Date: 2019-02-24 22:00:00+00:00
Publisher: 4 Gates Publishing

A

Gleaming Path

Book Two in The Legend of Light

Jeffrey Pawlak

This is a work of fiction. All characters, terms, locations, all other names, and all events are products of the author’s imagination and are entirely fictitious.

A Gleaming Path

Book Two in The Legend of Light

Copyright © Jeffrey Pawlak 2019

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be copied or reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without permission from the author or publisher.

Published in collaboration with 4 Gates Publishing, a subsidiary of It’s A Thing Media.

First Edition: February 2019

Cover Art by Pam Hage

Cover Design by Jamie LeRoy

Map by Sebastian Breit

Acknowledgments

The greatest and sincerest of thanks to my squad of proofreaders, and everyone else who helped make this publication possible

Alexander Camiolo

Brittany Derry

Jonathan Gruchy

Peter Herr

Josiah LeRoy

Lauren LeRoy

Joshua Robinson

Jarrett Steffen

Jessa Wolfe

Trey Wydysh

For Audra, David, Alex, and Jason

Four older siblings who I will forever be grateful to for their guidance and support throughout the years

The story thus far…

After suffering a tragic loss and failing to become the skilled magic-user he was said to be, Alamor was content to spend the rest of his days in his hometown of Geldiar, seeing to his daily routine as a soldier in the Tordalian military. But one summer afternoon, his former mentor, Tiroku, returned and spoke of troubling incidents across the land. Against his own wishes, Alamor was ordered by the military to accompany Tiroku to the capital city of Caldeya, where a great meeting was to be held between powerful figures from all across Tordale. There, Alamor rekindled his bond with an estranged friend—Princess Raissa Hokara.

But a great darkness soon emerged. The man named Baldaron, wielder of the destructive, corrupting magic known as Scourge, sacked Caldeya with his army of undead soldiers and monsters. He claimed to seek vengeance against the Hokara royal family for transgressions against his own people. Alamor, Princess Raissa, Tiroku, and the rest of their allies fled the capital city, and organized a mission to challenge their mighty enemy. They set off to find the Radia—two relics which contain the most powerful sources of Serenity, the sacred magic which is the only means to combat Scourge.

Their journey took them into the sprawling woodland of Sleekleaf Forest, where they traveled below the earth and encountered a community of the subterranean creatures called Bachus. A friendly pair, the husband and wife Hinton and Pauma, offered to guide their party through the rest of Sleekleaf Forest. Deep in the woodlands, they came to the ancient fortress called the Jade Keep, where Alamor finally learned how to channel his magical ability. With Princess Raissa’s help, the two young heroes obtained the Radia of Gallantry. Their party then sailed out of Sleekleaf Forest, and reunited with Prince Tridian Hokara’s fleet out in the ocean.

All the while, Baldaron and a portion of his army marched through the Tower Mountains. With his unprecedented mastery over Scourge, Baldaron corrupted the waters of Heaven’s Bay, where the clouds of mist and fog rise to the lofty realm called Skyscape. As Alamor, Raissa, and their allies continue their quest for the Radia, Baldaron’s darkness now threatens all life from the skies down to the world below.

A Gleaming Path

1

Once Amanyra could no longer see the trees, she realized that she and her brothers had made a grave mistake. The tall ash, poplar, and Sleekleaf trees were there, many standing but a few yards from her, yet their trunks were lost to the swirling, crackling brume that had captured this forsaken village in its destructive grip. When she looked up, Amanyra saw no canopy, no green boughs, not even a trace of the sky.

In all directions, there was only crimson haze that filled the air.

Scourge.

“Let’s try to head back the way we came,” Iras offered, his hands tightening about his sword’s hilt. “We all release as much of our Serenity as we can, and we make a mad push back to the village entrance.”

“We don’t even know what direction that is, right now,” Ilios argued. “We’re lost in here. If we try that, we could just as easily head deeper into the Scourge, and when that happens, we’re doomed.”

“We might be doomed if we just stand here and watch it, too,” Iras retorted, panic beginning to overtake the frustration that had previously seized him. “We should have gone slower, we should have taken our time clearing our way through before we went too far…”

“You’re the one who charged ahead of us!” Ilios snapped. “Our plan was much safer before you started to get carried away and act like the big hero who—”

“Enough, both of you!” Amanyra shouted.

She may have been just fifteen, and both Ilios and Iras a year her elder, but Amanyra’s command silenced their bickering. At that moment, she had no choice other than to at least attempt to rally her brothers’ concentration, as well as their confidence.

“We all moved through here together. If someone acted irrationally, we all acted irrationally. We got this far together, now let’s stop with the blame and figure out how we can escape together.”

The hush that came from Ilios and Iras told Amanyra that her scolding had managed to get through to them. She was a little surprised at how effective her words had been—she could only imagine what a denouncement from Master Xogun would do…

Amanyra, Ilios, and Iras huddled together, backs against one another as they anxiously watched the clouds of Scourge churn and seethe around them. Lady Ralu and Master Xogun sent them into the village to disperse most of the destructive presence, leaving Lady Ralu with an easier task to banish it altogether. After five years of training in the ways of Serenity, Amanyra and her brothers had become powerful Spiritcasters. They were more than capable of fending off moderate masses of Scourge. They proved this in similar missions to what they currently found themselves in, being the first ones to enter an area where Scourge maintained a powerful hold, weakening its grip before Lady Ralu and Master Xogun would eventually destroy it.

These missions were more than just a means to train Amanyra, Ilios, and Iras to combat dark magic; they were necessary for Lady Ralu’s well-being. Her repeated encounters with Scourge, where she both endured its destructive touch and invoked exorbitant magic from her soul, were beginning to wear on her life force. Even Master Xogun’s assistance was no longer enough. If she was to continue her efforts to purge Tordale of the most vile energy that ever plagued it, she needed Amanyra, Ilios, and Iras to ease the burden.

Amanyra and her brothers had succeeded before, but this time, things went awry for them. The malevolent magic had them trapped—the very danger they always sought to avoid when battling Scourge. They overestimated their magical abilities, or perhaps underestimated their enemy after a series of victorious encounters. Whatever the reason, it was a foolish blunder given their familiarity with Scourge, and the many horrors it brought.

Scourge could bear down on them at any moment. The way that it continued to swirl in place, only pressing forward inches at a time, was as if the merciless energy taunted them, toying with them in the way that a predator did with cornered prey.

It was only Amanyra’s bounding eyes that alerted her to Scourge’s first strike. The crimson ceiling came crashing down, falling toward Amanyra, Ilios, and Iras like a waterfall. Amanyra lifted her staff high above her head, simultaneously directing a wave of Serenity through it to meet with Scourge. Her noble magic clashed with the destructive essence, holding Scourge at bay.

But Scourge was relentless. Its crimson clouds took shape into long, twisting strands that eerily resembled the arms of some nightmarish beast, claws soaring at Amanyra and her brothers.

Ilios and Iras intercepted Scourge’s grasp. Their swords aglow with Serenity’s radiance, they sliced through the dark magic’s claw-like constructs that came near. Scourge’s advances were halted when the Serenity-infused edges cleaved through its baleful essence, but where there were only two swords behind Ilios and Iras, their foe had infinite arms until banished from the world.

At least I can give them one more weapon… Amanyra thought to herself, recognizing how dire the circumstance was quickly becoming.

She amplified the release of Serenity that she used to hold back Scourge above—enough that her ray of purifying magic dispelled the torrent of destructive energy that tried to fall upon her, but not so much that it completely drained her magical reserves.

Her bright orange staff—carved from palm tree wood of the desert—became engulfed in white light. Amanyra began to swing at whatever blood-red form approached she and her brothers, her staff cutting through Scourge’s arms like a blade through cloth. Their efforts may have been futile, Amanyra acknowledged, but she would make fate wait a while longer before it decided on that.

Amid the shrill hisses that rang out any time a vein of Scourge was immolated by Amanyra’s or her brothers’ Serenity-infused weapons, she suddenly heard footsteps within the crimson clouds, many of them.

No, not footsteps Amanyra soon realized, as their clatter rose from faint to unmistakable. That is a gallop.

Off to the right, a white glow appeared within the waves of destructive magic. As Scourge dispersed from the outpouring of Serenity that had penetrated it, Amanyra and her brothers could see what rode in to assist them.

Xogun stormed into the fray, one hand guiding his luminous sword that sheared through Scourge, while his other held the reins on Phaedryn. The hulking steed had been a Wraithling when Amanyra and her new family came upon him in her homeland, but once Ralu purified him with her Serenity, Phaedryn became a mount who fearlessly carried them into any battle with Scourge. The brawny, black horse galloped so prodigiously that he sometimes risked enduring Scourge’s touch before Xogun’s radiant sword could dispel it.

The rider and mount were one great chromatic contrast. Phaedryn’s coat and long, voluminous mane were jet black, his brown eyes lost to his dark features. His grey hooves were a murky blur while he was in full stride.

Atop Phaedryn, Xogun was embraced by the white aura of his magic. His flaxen hair and white cape flowed with Phaedryn’s gallops. His silvery armor and his mask—shaped like a falcon’s outstretched wings—gleamed under Serenity’s light.

Amanyra had not known such relief in many days as she watched Xogun ride through the village. With each of Phaedryn’s strides, more of Scourge succumbed to the righteous magic that radiated from Xogun’s blade. The conglomeration of Scourge was fading, its presence already so weakened that it had ceased sending its arms groping toward Amanyra and her brothers.

She was so enthralled by Xogun’s arrival that she did not hear Ralu approach. She only knew that the woman was right behind her when she sensed a source of Serenity that dwarfed even Xogun’s.

Amanyra and her brothers spun around. Ralu stood but a yard from them, a tender smile over her tawny face, and her body encapsulated by a golden glow that shone brighter with each passing second. The light that flowed from her body and filled the air was so brilliant that Amanyra, Ilios, and Iras had to avert their eyes. They stumbled back a step or two as they felt Ralu’s tremendous magic surge against them.

Even though Amanyra could not see it, she could feel Scourge’s presence being eradicated in every direction. Ralu’s Serenity engulfed the village and much of the surrounding forest, cleansing every branch, leaf, and blade of grass that had been blighted by Scourge.

As the last remnants of the dark magic were banished from the area, the blinding light which surrounded Ralu began to dim. The receding glow revealed the ash, poplar, and Sleekleaf trees that encircled the village. Homes, sheds, and other buildings emerged into view after once being drowned in Scourge’s haze.

“You have done well here today, my children,” Ralu said, her form finally becoming visible within the waning radiance. “Because of your brave efforts, this village has finally been freed of Scourge’s grasp.”

When the light faded, the first thing that Amanyra noticed was the tender smile that lay over Ralu’s tawny face. It was as if Ralu had been totally unconcerned with the unthinkable danger that they all had just faced.

The next thing that Amanyra noticed was the exhaustion in Ralu’s eyes, and the tremors of weariness that appeared through her white robes.

Still astride Phaedryn, Xogun hurried to join all of them. He dismounted his burly steed and rushed to Ralu’s side, taking her in his arms.

“Are you all right, Ralu?” he asked.

Her reply was not immediate. For a few moments, her smile leveled as she fought to steady herself. Phaedryn trotted over to them, stopping next to Ralu. She eventually straightened and took hold of the reins that dangled along Phaedryn’s thick neck. Her smile only returned after she released a heavy breath.

“I will be just fine,” she finally said.

Voices came from further off in the village. The doors to some of the homes came open, and men, women, and children slowly emerged from their dwellings that they had barricaded themselves in to survive Scourge’s coming. Ralu turned her eyes to them before any of the people even spotted her.

“Let me go see them,” she said. Ralu uttered the words softly, yet it was an order that Xogun would dare not contest. As soon as he released her, Ralu started toward the villagers. Phaedryn went with her, lending his reins and his muscular flank to support her.

Amanyra smiled as villagers converged onto Ralu and Phaedryn. Whether they were man or woman, young or old, there was immeasurable gratitude on their faces. They came to her joyfully, some reverently, all offering their thanks to the woman who saved them from a horrific demise. Many of the children flocked to Phaedryn’s legs, their eyes wide with wonder as they stared up at the black horse who towered over them.

No matter how many towns or villages that Ralu saved, this was a sight that Amanyra never tired of.

“I hope you three realize just how close you came to failing today.”

Xogun’s harsh tone sent a chill down Amanyra’s back. She was afraid to turn around and face him. Judging by Ilios’s and Iras’s expressions, they were just as nervous about doing so.

She gulped, and slowly turned alongside her brothers.

Amanyra felt every muscle in her body tighten when she looked up at Xogun’s cold countenance. He had removed his mask, letting nothing hide his stern glare. Amanyra had never seen his icy blue eyes so penetrating.

“Lady Ralu was being sincere when she commended you, but that does not absolve you of your poor efforts,” Xogun went on. “If she and I had arrived a minute later than we did, she may have only had Wraithlings to speak to. Maybe less than Wraithlings.”

“F-forgive us, Master Xogun,” Ilios somehow found the nerve to say. “We were doing just fine, but then the clouds of Scourge seemed to thicken all at once. By the time that we realized how much they bolstered themselves, we had gotten too far into the village to fight our way back…”

“I’m well aware of what you three did wrong today,” Xogun said.

Ilios cringed in response.

Xogun crossed his arms, and continued. “You performed admirably the last few times you assisted Lady Ralu and I. You three grew complacent, maybe arrogant. You forgot that our foe is not a thoughtless essence. Those clouds of dark magic are calculating. They have a will and an intent of their own. They may not be of flesh and blood, but that is what makes them the most dangerous enemy in this world. Scourge is an incorporeal foe with the understanding of a corporeal being. It can adapt in battle like any mortal creature—often, better.”

Xogun lifted his eyes from Amanyra and her brothers, aiming them across the village at Ralu and the people who greeted her. His scolding may not have been over with, but Amanyra at least appreciated the reprieve from his dour gaze.

“Lady Ralu and I have had you follow us into battle so that you three can learn how to combat Scourge. At this time, we do not expect you to be able to banish a mass of it like what we faced today all on your own. What we expect of you is to do your part in battle without needing our help to survive the encounter. Lady Ralu and I will not always be here to save you.”

He did not say it, but Amanyra inferred that Xogun meant for she and her brothers to look at Ralu. The three of them obeyed his wordless command.

“Every time that Lady Ralu purifies an area as large as this, she summons an amount of Serenity that no other human in history has equaled,” Xogun said. “You know just as well as I do that this is a feat she has accomplished many times now. That strain, alone, would break most humans; it does not even take into account what agony she has endured by occasionally withstanding Scourge’s touch while she confronts it. Any other human would have perished long ago if they cast the same spells that she has. Lady Ralu’s soul may hold the mightiest Serenity that this world has ever known, but she is still only mortal. She cannot carry this burden forever—perhaps, even for much longer.”

As Xogun spoke, Amanyra’s eyes were pinned to Ralu. The woman welcomed every villager who approached her, smiling at each and every one. She leaned against Phaedryn’s flank, and her legs quivered beneath her white robes.

The villagers saw Ralu’s fatigue, as well as her outward defiance to it.

What they did not see—but what Amanyra, her brothers, and Xogun could sense—was Ralu’s unthinkable anguish.

Amanyra eventually shared a glance with both Ilios and Iras. There was guilt over their faces, just like what festered in Amanyra. Yet, there was also a newfound resolve, one that all three of them knew had to be fulfilled.

We must grow stronger Amanyra thought.

She knew that the same sentiment echoed in her brothers’ minds.

2

Nearly 700 years later

The Tower Mountains rose high over Tordale’s surface, their imposing forms stretching as if to pierce the sky. Some of the tallest peaks were believed to reach even further, aiming for the heavens. Whether that myth was true or not, what was certain was that the mountains did pass through another realm in their ascent from the land below—the realm known as Skyscape, home to the mysterious and reclusive Aesur.

Skyscape was a secluded domain concealed by the clouds which gathered beneath the tips of the tallest mountains. There was no path to it that could be traveled by foot. It was only discovered when a wandering tribe of Aesur of long ago found the natural phenomenon called Wind’s Way, where the winds from all directions gathered after their journey throughout the twisting maze of mountains, and joined into one tremendous gale that flowed skyward.

When the Aesur who first came upon Wind’s Way leapt into its billowing flow, the plumage over their bodies allowed them to soar with the air current, climbing miles above Tordale and ascending far beyond where any other peoples had ventured. Wind’s Way eventually brought them to Skyscape, the realm hidden among the clouds that seemed untouched by any other living creatures. The Aesur saw it as a paradise that was bereft of war, pollution, and chaos. They knew that they wanted it to be their home for the rest of time.

But they could not return to the surface world right away, as there was no passage downward aside from a deathly descent. Realizing that their only way back was Wind’s Way, some of the Aesur eventually learned over time to channel the magic dwelling within their beings and direct it into the very air about them. When they accomplished this, the Aesur found that they could control the movement and nature of the air, bending it to their needs. These Aesur became known as Airtamers, and they used their unprecedented ability to reverse the flow of Wind’s Way and return themselves to the continent floor.

They sought out the rest of their kin and told them of Skyscape, soon gathering together every living Aesur and bringing them to Wind’s Way, where they left Tordale’s surface, never to call it home again.

The Aesur did not leave Skyscape for hundreds of years, until a young, bold member of their race descended from their lofty utopia to meet with the races of the surface world and reestablish relations. She was not yet twenty-five years of age at the time, but there was no one, not even her father, the Highfeather, who could keep her from completing what she believed was a worthy, and beneficial cause to both the Aesur and Tordale’s other races.

She more than accomplished the task, forming a strong bond with King Aurilion Hokara of the humans, and eventually became the sworn guardian of his children, Prince Tridian and Princess Raissa Hokara.

The one called Dayneth was the first of the Aesur to return to Tordale’s surface since her people first left, and now, another member of her bloodline would soon leave Skyscape, as well.

Elisstriss did not possess the same cold, penetrating gaze that Dayneth did; a more meek and gentle spirit rested within her eyes. Her features were soft for an Aesur, giving her a closer likeness to humans than was normal for her kind. Her snowy white hair fell far past her shoulders. Several of the long, wavy strands were tinted cerulean, like the ocean’s waves. Close-fitting, teal robes concealed most of her petite form that would have been dwarfed by Dayneth’s tall figure. Only Elisstriss’s arms and the bands of white plumage remained uncovered by her attire.

But while her older sister was the more commanding of the Highfeather’s daughters at first glance, Elisstriss housed a power that Dayneth could never match.

Elisstriss was an Airtamer, one of the greatest among the Aesur. It was because of that power that she felt it her duty to descend to the surface world—for her home among the clouds was now threatened by an unforeseen darkness.

Elisstriss could still see it as she stood miles away in an opposite corner of Skyscape. To most eyes, it would have appeared as a faint, red cloud lingering in the distance. It occasionally flickered with a violent light, no different than a storm cloud that slowly rolled across the horizon.

But like the rest of her people, Elisstriss’s far-seeing sight allowed her to look deeper into the foreign energy, and behold its vile essence. The Aesur may not have understood where it originated, or how it came to be, but they knew what it was—a dark, malevolent magic that intended to creep throughout all of Skyscape until it had corrupted the entire realm.

Before the Aesur were even aware of its presence, it engulfed the Spirit Shrine where the passage to Ralu and Xogun lay. When they confronted it, they were proven powerless to halt its advance. Even the mightiest Airtamers, whose magic granted them power to summon winds like that of a hurricane, could not stop the dark energy’s continued progress. Several Aesur perished in the endeavor, enduring a nightmarish demise as they were captured by the dark energy’s destructive touch.

Elisstriss tried to block out those frightening memories. The Aesurs’ magic had failed to eliminate the evil presence from Skyscape, but it still offered them a possible way to protect their home.

Elisstriss turned to the portal before her, a gaping hole in the clouds where a mighty gale emerged in its ascent along the mountains and into the skies. She peered through the portal, past the clouds that gathered near the peaks, past the mountainsides, and all the way down to the continent floor where the kingdom of Tordale lay, as if painted upon a canvas.

She could only hope that the answer—the saving grace for the Aesur—lay somewhere beneath.

Elisstriss looked back to the Aesur who were to accompany her, a group of twenty brave soldiers who intended to protect her with their lives during this mission. Each wore silvery mail over their chest and torso, leaving their slender, feathered limbs bare. Half of them wielded spears that were longer than the soldiers were tall, with rods forged out of a clear, crystalline substance, and topped by gleaming metal blades. The other half of the soldiers wielded unique weapons that the Aesur had invented themselves—steel blades crafted in the likeness of talons that fit over their hands and feet.

The most renowned of the Aesurs’ warriors, a man named Ausmus, stood at the front of the regiment. He was armed with two pairs of the steel talons, and although he wore silvery armor like his fellow soldiers, his status was signified by a turquoise scarf that was bordered in white clouds. His short hair spiked upward, as if it was the crest of a great hunting bird.

“We are ready to descend when you are, my Swiftness,” Ausmus announced. Despite addressing Elisstriss with the reverent title that was reserved only for the Highfeather’s wife or daughters, his voice carried a friendly, informal tone—confidence that he had earned after loyally serving Elissitrss and her family for most of his life.

Elisstriss nodded wordlessly. She once again let her eyes drift to the portal and the land below.

“There is no shame in fearing this task, my Swiftness,” Ausmus said. “I also harbor fears for the mission. Every soldier standing before you does.”

“It is not fear for the mission that grips me,” Elisstriss replied. She tried to think of the word that more accurately described her thoughts. Regret? Disgust? Sorrow? She could not decide. “It’s terrible, Ausmus. This should be a momentous journey for us. We are the first Aesur aside from my sister in hundreds of years to leave Skyscape. This should be a celebration, yet we stand here only because we are on the verge of annihilation. I am not even able to look forward to a reunion with Dayneth, because she must be in grave danger, too.”

“I’m sure your sister is all right,” Ausmus tried to assure. “She is as formidable as any Aesur who ever lived. I have no doubt that she continues to fight against the evil force that menaces Tordale, and I can promise you she will not let such a thing defeat her.”

There was certainty and optimism in Ausmus’s words, yet Elisstriss struggled to adopt either. “I can only hope so. Dayneth left behind everything she knew so that she could establish unity between the Aesur and the surface world. I pray that she lives to see it.” Elisstriss paused, and another chilling thought made itself known in the back of her mind. “I just keep wondering what can possibly be down there. If its reach is so great that it can find us all the way up here in Skyscape, what horror has it been capable of down there?”

“I, too, wonder the same,” Ausmus admitted. “But it’ll do us no good to dwell on that. All that will create is an unstoppable threat for us, and we must believe that we can eliminate it. There is only one way to learn the truth about the catastrophe.”

This time, Elisstriss found herself in agreement with Ausmus’s logic. She turned, and her eyes washed over Ausmus and the collection of Aesur soldiers who stood before her. “Thank you all for your bravery. I am indebted to each and every one of you for volunteering to join me.”

Ausmus and the soldiers were impassive to the praise. “It is our sworn duty to stand between the Highfeather’s offspring and danger,” Ausmus said. “If anything, we are indebted to you. This is no task for a beloved Swiftness, yet you have chosen to face it without any hesitation.”

Elisstriss shook her head. She meant to dismiss his praise just as he had of hers. “I’ll do Skyscape no good if I stay here and watch that corruption slowly approach. My father can keep things under control here. Down on the surface world, I may actually be able to help our people.”

Ausmus smiled admiringly. “You and your sister are truly one in the same, then. You think so far beyond yourself; you have all of Skyscape in your concern.”

Once again, Elisstriss could not bring herself to relish in Ausmus’s adulation. She especially felt herself unworthy to be compared to her older sister. Dayneth descended to the surface world purely by her own ambition; Elisstriss’s descent had been forced by necessity.

She turned back to Wind’s Way. “I do what must be done to protect our people.”

Elisstriss said no more. She stepped closer to the gaping hole in the clouds, stopping just at the edge where Skyscape fell away to the earth. Elisstriss closed her eyes and brought her hands to her chest. She reached deep within herself, summoning the great power that rested in her being. When she felt it, touched it, she sent it spilling from her physical body and into the powerful air current that rose from beneath the clouds in front of her.

Elisstriss melded her magic with the winds, her mind, body, and spirit working as one to shape them to her desired state. The mighty gales sank beneath the clouds, their flow reversing and racing back down along the sides of the Tower Mountains.

She eventually opened her eyes. With her spell complete, Wind’s Way now allowed her and the Aesur soldiers a path to the surface of Tordale.

“We go,” Elisstriss said.

At her declaration, the soldiers began to leap into the portal. They bravely went first so that they would meet with any possible dangers before Elisstriss did, and so that she could maintain her tremendous spell while they fell to the continent floor. Once all of the soldiers, including Ausmus, had begun to make the descent, Elisstriss followed behind. She spread her arms and jumped through the opening in the clouds.

The air current of Wind’s Way caught the feathery bands along the Aesurs’ bodies, carrying them from Skyscape to the surface of Tordale.

3

When night began to drape the ocean in its shadowy grip, and the sweeping winds relaxed into gentle breezes, most of the Balcryst’s crew ushered themselves below deck. The crews aboard the two warships that followed behind, the Waveskimmer and the Bluetreader, did likewise. Only a handful of men and women remained on the ships’ decks to handle the masts and to observe their course—all others joined together to eat dinner and relax for the remainder of the evening.

The gathering within the Balcryst’s deep hull was decidedly the largest, filling almost every inch of the ship’s dining hall. Every seat was occupied, and there was hardly even room to stand with the number of soldiers and sailors who crowded the hall.

They all wished to be in Raissa’s presence as she and the rest of her group sat down to exchange accounts with Tridian. After reuniting with the Prince of Tordale earlier in the afternoon, Alamor and his party abandoned the trading boat that they discovered on the Cabos River and climbed aboard the mighty Balcryst.

Tridian shared his story first. The Prince of Tordale told Raissa and the others of his trek southward once he left Caldeya, which eventually brought him to the coastal city of Lansuu. It was hardly a grand entrance for him and the Tordalian soldiers, he noted, the frustration evident in his features as he spoke. He explained that the citizens of Lansuu provided a tepid welcome at best, with more of the people watching on with doubt than saluting him with cheers and cries of thanks for his effort. It turned out that many of Lansuu’s citizens harbored the same cynicism of their prince as their mayor, Gora Karalus, did.

Not surprisingly, Tridian spoke bitterly of Gora, whose unpleasant disposition did not seem to change after the summit at Tordale Castle, where Gora had been so critical of Tridian’s rule.

They encountered opposition beyond the citizens and politicians, as well. Tridian explained that the admiral of the naval station in the city was very unreceptive of his plan to sail across the ocean in search of answers for the mysterious cases of destruction across Tordale. The admiral was yet another high ranking official who doubted Tridian’s capabilities. He was defiant to the bitter end, Tridian described, only relenting once the Prince was forced to enact his royal authority to have his wishes met.

Tridian and his troops sailed over the ocean for several days aboard the Balcryst, Waveskimmer, and Bluetreader without making any significant discoveries—at least, anything other than shipwrecks and islands that were torn apart. They only came upon another intact ship when they found Raissa, Alamor, and the others aboard their small craft.

Once Tridian was finished, Tiroku began to recount the many events that had happened since the prince’s departure. He started with the attack on Caldeya, telling of the sudden invasion that saw Baldaron and his dark force’s capture the capital city. He next described their flight across the Plains of Oston to Geldiar, where they formulated plans to combat their enemy.

But before the Champion of Light could elaborate on any part of their quest for the Radia, Raissa expressed her desire to relay her experiences to Tridian and the soldiers. She spoke of the ambush on her way to Tirth, her escape back to Caldeya, and then of Alamor’s gallant rescue from the Strife Wing inside the Temple of All.

There was something to Raissa’s account that captured every soldier and sailor who crammed into the dining hall. As Alamor glanced about, he saw nothing but wonder in their eyes, a mixture of awe and fascination with the challenges that the Princess of Tordale had overcome.

Out of all the warriors in the room, not one of them could command attention like Raissa did, Alamor realized.

Tiroku seemed to detect her alluring presence, as well. He allowed Raissa to speak of their journey since leaving Geldiar. She was clearly unaware of her charisma at work. She recounted their entire quest through Sleekleaf Forest: the Strife Wings’ attack on the road forest, being saved by the Bachus, their trek through the maze of underground tunnels, when they were chased by the pack of Narogas, their night spent in the Bachu Caverns, when they explored the Jade Keep, and lastly, her and Alamor’s journey to the Hallowed Plane, where he proved his might to Ilios and Iras and obtained Xogun’s Radia, the Radia of Gallantry.

The only one who did not appear awestruck was Tridian. When all of the stories were finished, he squared up in his seat. His eyes wandered. It was obvious that he required a few moments to take in all of what was said, but he eventually expressed that one detail, in particular, concerned him greatly.

“So, Caldeya is under enemy control now,” Tridian breathed.

“Regrettably,” Tiroku confirmed.

Tridian averted his eyes from the Champion of Light, his face lined with frustration. “Maybe I never should have left in the first place. I could have been there to help protect the city and the castle.”

“Do not blame yourself for what happened, your Highness,” Dayneth interjected, drawing his gaze. “You know better than anyone that I was unsure of your mission, but you were completing what seemed like the most noble course of action at that time. As well, it is unlikely that you or the troops here would have been enough to alter the outcome of that attack; Caldeya would have fallen whether you were there, or not.”

“Trust us, your Highness,” Tiroku broke in. “You should consider yourself lucky that you were not in Caldeya that night. I consider it a blessing that you were out here on the ocean, where you were far from harm.”

Their words did not appear to placate Tridian. “I still would rather have been there to defend the city, and all of those people, instead of sailing half a continent away on a wild chase looking for an unknown culprit.”

Raissa placed a hand on his arm. “This ‘wild chase’ was your way of protecting the kingdom and proving to the people that you were dedicated to it,” she said. “You can’t have any regrets about that.”

Tridian’s demeanor instantly softened. He smiled at his sister. “That is much easier for you to say when you can help the kingdom with a secret magical ability.”

Raissa’s face reddened for a moment. She seemed uncomfortable with the reminder of the Serenity that she hid from him for so long. “I’m sorry that I could never tell you, but even father thought it was best not to let anyone besides Tiroku and a few scholars know about it. He never wanted there to be too much commotion while I was younger, and Tiroku agreed. They both felt it would have hindered my progress in understanding Serenity.” She stopped for a moment, shooting a brief glance in Alamor’s direction. “In the end, it seems that it may have been for the best, considering what we’ve already accomplished.”

Tridian gently patted her on the shoulder with a chuckle. “It’s all right, Raissa, you don’t have to explain yourself. I understand why father would have wanted to keep that secret.” The Prince of Tordale looked up from his sister, aiming his gaze back at Dayneth and Tiroku. “But what I don’t understand is how the Radia will be enough to save Tordale. Do you really believe that we can stop Baldaron with their magic?”

Tiroku nodded confidently. “They are the only answer we have to vanquishing the man who is essentially Scourge incarnate. We have already made great progress in a short amount of time by acquiring the Radia of Gallantry, which Alamor and your sister were able to find all on their own.”

“May I see it?” Tridian asked.

Tiroku looked at Alamor, and Alamor knew right away that the Champion of Light was offering his approval to reveal the sacred vessel. Alamor reached into the pouch at his waist and pulled free the luminous gemstone for all to see, while Tiroku told them the legend behind Ralu’s and Xogun’s final moments in the world of the living.

Alamor doubted that any of the soldiers and sailors could sense its awesome power, but he saw the fascination in their faces as they stared at the Radia. He felt powerful by flaunting Xogun’s Radia, basking in the number of awestruck expressions from the gathering of men and women who looked upon him.

Tridian still did not appear to be impressed, and Tiroku seemed to discern the prince’s continued uncertainty. “It may not seem like much of a weapon, but be assured that nothing else in this world will come close to matching the wicked magic behind Baldaron and his army,” the Champion of Light said.

The Prince of Tordale straightened in his chair. “How exactly will they allow us to do that? You have told me at length of the power within them, but you haven’t explained how we will use them to actually defeat our enemy.”

“That is not for me to say,” Tiroku said. Tridian’s brow furrowed, but Tiroku was ready with clarification. “Your sister and Alamor will be the ones to wield the Radia, and that is another reason to be assured that we can succeed. The two of them have proven incredible ability as Spiritcasters, greater than my own. There are no better people in the kingdom to combat this darkness that we face.”

As Alamor began to put away the Radia of Gallantry, he noticed Tridian cast a glance toward him. No one else in the hall seemed to sense the tension that filled the air, but Alamor felt it as soon as his eyes met with Tridian’s. In just one instant, Alamor felt the Prince of Tordale direct a stream of doubt and cynicism at him.

It was only when Tridian looked back at Raissa and her beaming face that his expression softened, once more.

“Believe me, Tridian,” Raissa said, “Alamor and I will be able to do this, especially now that you’re helping us.”

Tridian nodded, forging a smile that he could not possibly hide from his sister. “If that’s how you truly feel, then I will do my best to trust in you and assist you in any way that I can.”

They eventually drifted into conversations of different matters, more cheerful talks that had little or nothing to do with their quest at hand. The dining hall began to boom with discussions and laughter. The grave subjects were left behind, and for another hour or two, everyone on board the Balcryst enjoyed one another’s company while forgetting the dire circumstances over the kingdom.

It was well into the night when the gathering dispersed. One by one, every person in the dining hall left, either to attend to other duties, or to go straight to bed. Although Tiroku, Rawner, and all of the others eventually went off to find their rooms, Alamor waited patiently for Raissa.  She stayed by Tridian’s side for as long as she could before the Prince of Tordale was called to take care of other matters aboard the armored galleon.

Alamor was more than pleased that Raissa came straight to him once Tridian had left. She greeted Alamor with a tight, affectionate hug. “Thanks for waiting,” she said, looking up at him with a smile. “I didn’t mean to pay so little attention to you today. I’m still just overjoyed to see Tridian again.”

Alamor returned the hug. “I would expect you to feel that way,” he replied. “You’re just lucky that I don’t get jealous very easily.”

Raissa released her embrace and laughed at Alamor’s joke. Alamor offered a wide, satisfied grin. When Raissa stopped laughing, Alamor waited for her to look up at him before he spoke again. “Remember when I told you that it was a good idea to come out here on the ocean, in case we could find Tridian?”

Raissa’s smile brightened. She nodded.

Alamor flashed her a wink. “I told you we would be able to find him.”

“I’m so happy that we did,” Raissa said. “I wasn’t sure for a while if we ever would, or if he would even still be alive.” She stared at Alamor fondly. “I should have been more optimistic, like you were.”

“I think it’s like Tiroku said to me the night we sailed out of Sleekleaf Forest—sometimes, the answers only come when we have faith,” Alamor said. “All of us probably just need to have a little more faith that we’ll be able to stop Baldaron.”

Raissa suddenly seemed embarrassed by something. Her eyes briefly shot down the hallway that Tridian passed through as he left the dining hall. “Please don’t be mad at my brother. I know he doesn’t fully trust our plan, or in the Radia, but I’m sure he’ll come around, eventually. He’s probably just as overwhelmed by all of this as we were at first. He has so much else on his mind, being the acting king, and all.”

In truth, Alamor remained perturbed by Tridian’s doubts, specifically what he believed the Prince of Tordale directed at him. He was not sure what Tridian’s reasons may have been, but Alamor sensed that Tridian had a particular distrust of him, perhaps even so much as disdain.

Alamor did his best to conceal those thoughts and nodded at Raissa. “I agree, it must be a lot for him to deal with all at once. He’s just doing what he feels is best for the kingdom, and for you. He can’t be blamed for that.”

Raissa appeared to be relieved by Alamor’s empathetic response. “Thank you for understanding. I promise, once he has a few days to think this over, he’ll be more supportive.”

“It’s good to have him around,” Alamor said. “He’ll be a big help to us along the way, especially if he cheers you up this much.”

“You both do that for me,” Raissa replied.

Alamor grinned. “I’d hope so, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve almost gotten killed protecting you over the last few weeks.”

Raissa laughed heartily, and Alamor was just as pleased by her mirth as he was before.

“Maybe I’m bad luck,” Raissa said in jest.

“Well, if you are, I guess I’m in trouble for a while, then,” Alamor said.

Raissa turned toward the hallway that led to the Balcryst’s decks above. “Why don’t you come make a wish for better luck, then? I was going to head on deck and see what stars were out tonight, if you want to come with me.”

“I’d love to.”

Alamor followed behind Raissa, and they left the dining hall together.

4

Alamor awoke to a single ray of morning’s first light lancing through the window in his room aboard the Balcryst. He got out of bed with a great yawn—not one of weariness, but out of relief after a peaceful night’s sleep.

As he dressed himself in his armor, Alamor could not keep his eyes off of the calm, cerulean waves that swirled beyond his window. He, Raissa, and their companions had been out on the ocean for three full days since sailing from Sleekleaf Forest. Two were upon the trading boat they discovered along the Cabos River, and now a full day on the mighty warship that Tridian commandeered from the naval base in Lansuu.

If the continent of Tordale was a vast place, than the ocean was even vaster, it seemed. After three days of sailing, there was no change in the world around them to tell what kind of progress they had made; nothing but water and the sky running in all directions.

Once Alamor dressed, he left his room and started through the hallways within the Balcryst’s hull. He made straight for Raissa’s room, hoping to find her before anyone else that morning. When he came to her cabin, however, it was already empty. Even Dayneth was nowhere to be found. He went to Tiroku’s cabin next, thinking that the Champion of Light may know of Raissa’s whereabouts, but he found Tiroku missing, as well.

He wandered throughout the hallways for a few more minutes until he eventually heard a deep laugh boom nearby. When he turned in its direction, he spotted Rawner exiting a room and starting down the corridor.

“Looking for someone, kid?” Rawner called out to him as the man approached.

“Well, I was looking for Raissa, but right now I’d be happy to find anyone,” Alamor answered.

“Unfortunately, I know as much of their whereabouts as you do,” Rawner said. “I haven’t see any of them this morning. I’ve been in the mess hall this whole time sampling the cooks’ breakfast.”

“That doesn’t surprise me at all,” Alamor said with a laugh.

Rawner grinned. “Laugh all you want, but one of the cooks in that kitchen sure knows how to make a good pancake, as big and as fluffy as they come, and even better when you cover it with some of the syrups they have back there. It might be the best pancake I’ve ever had in my life.”

Alamor’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Even better than Chef Drengo’s back home at the Red Helm?”

“Believe it or not,” Rawner confirmed. “Just don’t ever tell him I said that to you; he’ll stop giving me extras whenever I ask for them.”

Alamor quickly began to see the appeal in going to enjoy a good breakfast. He looked down the corridor toward the mess hall and rubbed his stomach. “You think they have any leftovers? I’m starting to get hungry now that you’ve mentioned all of this.”

“Don’t worry about leftovers, kid, they’ll whip up something fresh for you,” Rawner said, patting Alamor on the back and setting them forward toward the mess hall. “I’ll even come with you and help myself to some seconds. I’ve still got room left for more of that grub.”

“Again, that doesn’t surprise me at all,” Alamor remarked.

They went to the kitchen and were quickly served some of the steaming-hot pancakes that Rawner lauded. Just as the man had claimed, the pancakes were among the biggest and fluffiest Alamor had ever seen. Each piece that he cut off with his fork was enough for an entire mouthful. They doused their pancakes in a number of different syrups made from raspberries, blackberries, blueberries, and strawberries. After eating two platefuls, Alamor felt as if his stomach was stretched to its limit, but he had to agree with Rawner that they were perhaps the best pancakes he had ever eaten.

When they were finished with their breakfast, they made their way up to the main deck. As soon as they emerged from the ship’s hull, they spotted Hinton and Pauma on the aft deck. The Bachus peered over the railings, their bodies shaking with excitement.

“Look at those clouds it’s billowing out!” Hinton said aloud as Alamor and Rawner approached. “Those things are big enough to fit right in the sky! You could cover a village with those things!”

Rawner visibly restrained his laughter when he and Alamor joined the Bachus at the railing. “What’s got you two all fired up this morning?” he asked.

“The steam vents on this boat, of course!” Pauma answered, and pointed down along the Balcryst’s stern. “Take a look for yourself!”

Alamor and Rawner looked over the railing to the great steam vents that jutted from the Balcryst’s armored hide. There were three, in all, each one a giant, steel cylinder that was as thick as a tree trunk. Masses of white steam poured out of the tubes, fluttering over the ocean’s surface until they gradually ascended and dissipated within the warm, summer air.

“Well, I’ll be darned,” Rawner said. “I didn’t realize that this ship was outfitted with a steam engine.” He glanced up and peered out across the ocean, toward the Bluetreader and the Waveskimmer. Traces of white steam could be seen emerging from behind their sterns. “Or that the other two boats were, as well. The Prince picked out some fine vessels to voyage with.”

“I didn’t realize that ships even had steam engines,” Alamor admitted, still staring down at the vents. He was not surprised to hear that steam engines existed, as the races of Tordale had long ago discovered that machinery and turbines could be powered through the boiling of water—he was just surprised to see that their use had now become so widespread that they were being put inside ships. He always believed that they were too big and too heavy to be transported, and were kept primarily to places like the mills and factories in Caldeya’s River District.

“Steam engines aren’t especially common, at least, not yet, but they’re popping up more and more among battleships in our navy,” Rawner explained. “The scientists employed by the military are the ones credited with inventing them, after all, so they know best how to load one of the big machines into a ship. As the years go on, I won’t be surprised if they figure out how to drop one into every craft possible, even little guys.”

“You think one day all ships will be steam powered?” Alamor asked.

“It’s possible,” Hinton chimed in, clearly eager to join the discussion. “It’s just that it won’t be for a long, long time. I may not know much about the water and swimming and the like, but I do know that if you want something as big as one of these battleships to be fully powered by a steam engine, you need to have a big engine in there, one as big as a house. Then, on top of that, the ship itself needs to be sturdy enough to hold that thing without cracking or sinking. Might have to make those ships entirely out of metal, at that point. I couldn’t see even this beauty we’re sailing on right now being able to hold one for long before it was at the bottom of the ocean.”

“So, how big is the steam engine on this boat, you think?” Alamor asked.

“It’s actually a fairly little guy,” Pauma answered. “Not even as big as one of those machines you saw the Bachus feeding ores and minerals to in the forges back home. But then again, this ship was never built to hold something much bigger. The captain was nice enough to let us take a good look at it last night.”

“And it’s still an impressive piece of machinery!” Hinton added excitedly. “That thing would impress all of the Pakas and Vashus back at the Bachu Caverns. It may not be powerful enough to move a hulking ship like this all the time, and even very fast, but it’s the perfect backup plan on a day where the wind isn’t blowing so perfect.”

Alamor turned and looked back along the Balcryst’s decks. It was only then that he realized the huge sails laying along the masts were nearly limp and without any activity. The wind that day out on the ocean was light, and it only managed to catch a corner of the Balcryst’s sails, given the direction that it moved. If the ship was only able to use the wind, it would have been crawling across the ocean, but thanks to the steam engine laboring within its hull, it got an extra kick of momentum behind its metal-clad form to push on over the waves, however gradually.

It was also then that Alamor spotted Tiroku. The Champion of Light stood on the opposite side of the Balcryst, near the bow. Tridian was with him, as was a host of other soldiers who encircled them.

“I wonder what’s happening over there,” Alamor wondered aloud, and started across the decks. Rawner followed behind him, while Hinton and Pauma stayed at the aft deck’s railing to continue watching the steam vents. Alamor and Rawner made their way across the Balcryst, and as they approached Tiroku and Tridian, they noticed that the assortment of officers surrounding the two watched and listened intently to whatever discussion was taking place. A number of other soldiers continued their chores nearby, most making a very poor attempt to remain discreet as they, too, listened in on the conversation.

Alamor eventually spotted Joth near the front of the gathering. The man from the Arid Reaches stood with his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed. It gave him an unusually stern look.

“What’s going on?” Alamor asked as he and Rawner joined Joth at his side.

Joth’s surly eyes never moved from Tridian and Tiroku. “A bit of an argument, you could say,” he answered, sounding frustrated by the situation. “The Prince doesn’t seem to be very confident about our plan to acquire Ralu’s Radia, and he’s letting Tiroku know that.”

“So, is he planning on just turning the ship around and sailing somewhere else?” Rawner asked, his tone softly sarcastic.

“You may not be that far off,” Joth answered. “It seems that he wants to head straight for the mainland and avoid the Arid Reaches, altogether.”

“Has the kid lost it?” Rawner blurted. “What good is that going to do any of us?”

“Not very much, that’s for sure,” Joth said. “But the Prince is adamant about it. Apparently he has his own ideas on how to deal with Baldaron.”

“I hope Tiroku has explained to him that, without the Radia, we’re no match for Baldaron’s army,” Rawner said.

“Tiroku has made that point more than once,” Joth affirmed. “Unfortunately, the Prince doesn’t seem to trust in the magic of Serenity. He thinks that the brute force of our military is more likely to stop Baldaron. I’m not sure why he doubts the Radia, but whatever the reason is, it’s making it difficult for Tiroku to get through to him.”

They went quiet then, and turned their full attention to Tridian and Tiroku, who continued their debate.

“Even if you sail back to the coast right now, it will take you at least two days, and you still have a two-week march back to Caldeya,” Tiroku said. “It is not as if you can accomplish this much quicker than we can.”

Tridian’s eyes moved in the direction of Tordale’s distant mainland. “It is still better than sitting this far away from our capital while it lies in enemy hands,” Tridian argued. “If we don’t make some kind of attempt to reclaim Caldeya, the entire kingdom will think that we’ve abandoned any hope of stopping that man and his army. Any faith that the people have in my sister and I will be gone, and anarchy will spread across the land, leaving it open to be conquered easily.”

“At this moment, the peoples’ faith in you and Raissa is nowhere near as important as your safety, which will be in dire jeopardy if you take us any closer to Baldaron and his army,” Tiroku said.

“What kind of king thinks that way?” Tridian asked. “No ruler should ever sit leagues away in comfort while his kingdom and his people are under attack, least of all, a son of the Hokara line. My father would have met this challenge face to face.”

“Your father would have recognized his capabilities and seen that he could not resolve this problem on his own,” Tiroku rebuked. “He was not some battle-loving savage who charged headlong into a fight, nor are you. You have General Sagar and the rest of our military to deal with this threat directly, for the moment. The reason why he stayed behind in Geldiar was so that he could rally our remaining troops and defend the countryside surrounding Caldeya. He’ll keep Baldaron’s forces away from us as we continue our mission.”

“That will not restore hope to our people,” Tridian said. “They need to see Tordale’s monarch marching against our enemy to protect its borders,” Tridian said.

“As much as it may pain you to hear this, your Highness, the truth is that you will not restore any hope in such an attempt,” Tiroku told him, his voice cold and unwavering. “All that you will manage to accomplish is that you will lead an army straight into its demise.”

Tridian’s indignant gaze shifted back to the Champion of Light. “You underestimate the will of the Tordalian military, especially the men and women I have under my command at this moment. These soldiers are among the very best in the kingdom. Caldeya may have fallen, but it did so while we were not there to protect it. I do not mean any offense, Tiroku, but I also believe that you underestimate what my men and women can accomplish while I’m the one leading them.”

“Just as you underestimate our enemy,” Tiroku said, matter-of-factly. “You and a hundred soldiers cannot succeed where nearly half of Tordale’s military failed. No matter how strong of a force you command here, you would need far more than this to even consider retaking Caldeya.”

“Then we will find more soldiers!” Tridian exclaimed. “We will march across the kingdom gathering those who were not stationed at Caldeya, as well as all those who survived. You said it yourself that General Sagar and many soldiers are in Geldiar now. They will be able to help us.”

“General Sagar will also tell you that the idea is futile,” Tiroku said. “He was in complete agreement with our plan to set out and obtain the Radia to combat Baldaron. I assure you, Prince Tridian, that you cannot defeat him merely through brute force and manpower.”

“You claim that the bulk of the military is helpless to eliminate this threat, but you want me to believe that my sister and Alamor can?” Tridian questioned, and their debate continued.

Alamor’s eyes smoldered. His body went rigid with anger.

He had sensed from the beginning that Tridian was skeptical of the Radia and their ability to challenge Baldaron; what he did not sense was how blind and how stubborn the Prince of Tordale was over the subject. Tridian was merely looking for the quickest, easiest way to deal with the threat at hand, and worse, he had the audacity to dismiss the quest for the Radia.

It made Alamor furious. Tridian had no respect for what he and Raissa had to go through to claim the Radia of Gallantry. Tridian did not understand the magnitude of the task that they were able to accomplish together.

Raissa spent her entire life learning to master Serenity, while Alamor had suffered numerous failures, endured immense tragedy, and overcame seemingly impossible odds to finally discover the means to control his own magic.

All of that was on the verge of being thrown away now, because Tridian could not believe in Serenity.

Alamor refused to let that happen. He pushed through the circle of officers.

“You need to stop making excuses and start listening to Tiroku,” Alamor called out, his fiery eyes locked onto the Prince of Tordale. His words were commanding, something that was both uncommon for Alamor, and for the way anyone ever addressed Tridian. The Prince and Tiroku instantly halted their quarrel, and like everyone else on deck, they turned their eyes to Alamor.

Tridian’s first reply was a sneer. “Stay out of this, Alamor,” he said, threateningly. “You have no place in this discussion.”

Alamor came to the front of the crowd and stood firm. “Actually, I do. I wield one of the Radia, the only hope we have to save Tordale. I came on this journey to do whatever it takes to stop Baldaron, and I’m not going to let you jeopardize everything we’ve fought for.”

Tridian approached Alamor until their fierce stares were inches apart. “What makes you think that I’ll answer to you, of all people?”

“Because, unlike you, I realize that leading an army into Caldeya without the Radia will get everyone slaughtered,” Alamor replied. “The Serenity in the Radia is the only thing that can defeat Baldaron, whether you want to believe what Tiroku and I tell you, or not. The power of Serenity has a long history in your family. You should recognize its capabilities better than most.”

Tridian eased back, his expression relinquishing some of its hostility, but it was still cold and unyielding. “I know that the Serenity in the Radia is sacred, but I also know that you were unable to become a Spiritcaster when you trained with Tiroku. So, you’ll have to forgive me if I can’t fully trust in the Radias’ power after you acquired one.”

The Prince of Tordale promptly turned and began to make his way back to Tiroku, as if he had decided that the conversation was over.

Alamor’s ire soared. He could barely restrain his emotions at the way Tridian so callously spoke of his previous failures.

“Raissa believes in me,” Alamor eventually said aloud. “She has faith that I can use one of the Radia, and that together, we’ll stop Baldaron. Don’t you trust your own sister’s judgment?”

Alamor said it as less of a question and more of a declaration—a ruthless barb that clearly struck Tridian deep.

The Prince of Tordale looked back at Alamor with an equal amount of hate filling his eyes. “My actions and my decisions are always made with Raissa’s well-being in mind. I trust her judgment well enough, but I also will not let her risk her life in battle with a man as powerful as Baldaron. I will always do whatever is possible to protect her.”

“With all due respect, while you’ve been out here on the ocean all this time just to appease some politicians and doubtful citizens, I’ve been the one protecting Raissa.”

“Don’t ever question my devotion to my sister, you coward.”

“Then show some faith in her like a loving brother actually should.”

Tridian swung not a moment after Alamor finished. The Prince’s fist caught Alamor over the chin, nearly knocking Alamor off his feet.

Before any of the bystanders could react, Alamor struck back. He leapt at Tridian like a pouncing beast, slamming into the Prince and throwing him to the deck floor.

They traded blows on the ground, Tridian peppering Alamor with short punches, and Alamor striking with his elbow. They continued scuffling even as Rawner, Joth, and several of the officers came in and pried them apart. By then it seemed that nearly every person on board the Balcryst had scrambled to the bow to see the commotion, many of which jumped into the fight to pull the young men away from one another. Still, Alamor and Tridian furiously tried to break loose of the men and women who held them back.

“Enough of this!”

Dayneth’s command immediately brought order to the deck. She stepped in between Alamor and Tridian, shooting both of them a fiery glare. They began to compose themselves, but they could not keep their sneers and their maddened visages off one another.

“Is this how Tordale’s leaders will behave while the kingdom’s fate hangs in the balance?” Dayneth continued in a fervent tone. “This foolishness will solve nothing. Alamor, you’re a Champion of Light gifted with the ability to wield one of the Radia; and Prince Tridian, you are the acting King of Tordale, one of the rulers of this entire continent—neither of you should succumb to such childish animosity. The two of you are allies, not enemies. You need to be working together to protect Tordale!”

Alamor finally turned away from Tridian to look at Dayneth. “He’s mocking our entire journey! Everything we’ve fought for—he has no respect for any of it!”

Tiroku joined Dayneth at her side. The Champion of Light did not look to be persuaded by Alamor’s protest. “That does not give you cause to attack another man, whether it’s with fists or with words.” Tiroku’s dark gaze shifted over to Tridian. “That goes the same for you, your Highness. You should be ashamed of yourself for resorting to violence. A man of your power and your status should be displaying far greater poise.”

Despite being addressed by Tiroku, Tridian never looked away from Alamor. “I never would have done so if your arrogant apprentice had known his boundaries,” the Prince of Tordale growled. “Next time you should—”

“Don’t argue with him!” a cry rang out.

Alamor recognized that it was Raissa’s voice, and his entire body went taut. After a glance at Tridian, he sensed that the Prince must have also realized who it was.

Raissa burst through the bystanders, her expression brimming with anger. She shook as she faced Tridian. “What in the world has gotten into you!?” she screamed at her brother. “You’re the acting King of Tordale! This isn’t how father would want you to behave!” Her irate gaze shot in Alamor’s direction. As her eyes settled upon him, a look of disappointment began to leak through her furious expression.

Alamor’s skin went cold as he watched tears form in Raissa’s eyes.

“And you…” she said, nearly in a whisper, before she apparently became so overwhelmed by the situation that she ran off.

Alamor immediately chased after her, pushing through the soldiers and deckhands. He hurried across the Balcryst, eventually catching up to Raissa near the entrance to the hull. He took hold of her shoulder before she could descend below deck.

“Raissa, I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to—”

Alamor never finished his apology. Raissa spun around and slapped his hand away. The tears that she struggled to withhold before began to roll down her cheeks, but her trembling features still showed anger boiling within her. “Don’t try to explain yourself!” she exclaimed. “You have no excuse for what you did and what you said back there!”

Alamor was so caught off guard by her outburst that it took him a few moments to find his words. “I-I just didn’t like what Tridian said about our mission and—”

“That’s no reason to suggest that he doesn’t care about me! You have absolutely no right to say that about a member of my family!”

Raissa seemed to want to say more, but she caught herself. She looked away from Alamor, unable to contain her emotions as the anger on her face gradually gave way to despair.

“He’s all that I have left of my family, Alamor,” she eventually said, her voice shaking. “Tridian may still have doubts about our quest, but you have no idea what he’s going through, what kind of pressure he’s been under. You can’t expect him to understand what we’re doing after just learning of it and all that’s happened in Tordale since he left.” Raissa paused for a moment and swallowed back some of her emotion. When she continued, her voice was more steady. “Tridian has always been there for me. He’s watched over me since we were kids, and he’s taken care of me through everything in my life: when I was growing up wondering why my mother wasn’t around, when my father died, when you never came back from your training with the Dawnwatch…” She turned her agonized expression back to Alamor. “He never abandoned me like you did!”

Alamor felt a chill race throughout his entire body. He watched helplessly as Raissa wheeled and ran down the stairs into the Balcryst’s hull.

He stood by himself, as his heart seemed to fall away into an endless void. It was as if all of the life was evaporating from his being. He could not comprehend what had just happened. All he knew was that a part of him was shattered after seeing Raissa so hurt, and realizing that he was the cause of it.

Alamor did not even notice Hinton and Pauma join him by his side. The Bachus were clearly concerned for he and Raissa. “There, there, lad,” Hinton tried to console, patting Alamor on the elbow. “I’m sure she didn’t mean all of that.”

Pauma nodded. “Aye. We all do and say things we regret when we get upset enough. The husband and I can attest to that better than anyone else in the whole land.”

“She just needs some time to calm herself, and eventually things will get better,” Hinton added. “We’ll go talk to her and see what we can do to ease her mind.”

“I got a feeling that I’ll do most of the good, of course,” Pauma said, half under her breath as she and Hinton started down the stairs.

The Bachus made their way into the hull in search of Raissa, but Alamor still paid no attention to them. His blank eyes simply stared at where Raissa once stood, his thoughts consumed with guilt.

* * * * *

Leagues behind the Balcryst, the trading boat that Alamor and his companions used to sail out of Sleekleaf Forest bobbed on the surface of the ocean. After reuniting with Tridian and his host of soldiers, Alamor and the others abandoned the little ship, taking only what provisions they had carried onto it before boarding the Balcryst. They left the small craft to float atop the waves, unmanned, possibly for it to find its way back to the coast at some point.

The creature beneath the waves sped toward the ship, picking up speed as it raced far below the surface of the ocean. It had caught the scent of the ship hours ago, following it for miles throughout the vast, watery realm.

When it finally came to the ship, the wooden craft stood no chance. An enormous body of scales and muscle shattered the boat on impact. Fangs and claws tore apart what pieces of the boat endured the first blow, shredding the remains to splinters.

In only a few moments, the lonely trading ship lay strewn across the surface of the ocean in countless fragments.

The creature finally emerged from the waters amongst the wreckage. It was a gigantic beast, nearly as large as the Balcryst. Its reptilian head surfaced first, followed by the long neck that craned high into the air. Emerald scales covered its remarkable bulk, glistening in the sunlight. A frill of pale green membranes crowned its head and ran down the length of its dorsum. As enormous as it appeared in open air, only a portion of its entire mass emerged from the depths. The rest of it still lay beneath the waves: its four legs, the claws that were each as big as a barn house, and the sinuous tail that it used like a propeller to guide itself through the water with incredible speed.

The monster’s deep-set eyes washed over the wreckage from the trading ship. The scent of living, breathing creatures still lingered, but the monster could see that no one had been aboard the craft when it attacked. It tilted its long snout to the sky, its nostrils recapturing the scent and reaching further to find where the source lay.

Behind, two more creatures surfaced from beneath the waves, one coated in azure scales, and the other in vermilion scales. They looked just like the colossal creature that destroyed the trading ship, only smaller, about half of its size. In place of a frill on their bodies were series of thick dorsal spines running from their heads down to their tails.

By then, the largest beast had reclaimed the scent. Its quarry was still many leagues away, but that was a distance that could be covered in less than a day’s time.

The enormous monster looked back at its brethren. It growled and honked, speaking to the smaller monsters in their own primeval tongue, telling them that they were not far from the ones that they pursued.

Once it was finished, the three ocean beasts dove beneath the waves, and they renewed their hunt across the ocean.

5

A storm accompanied nightfall across the ocean. A ceiling of thick, dark clouds spanned the sky, blotting out the multitude of stars that hung in galaxies far beyond Tordale. The storm brought powerful winds with it—screeching gales that raced over the ocean and lifted the waves into enormous walls of water that threatened to engulf any ship that they struck.

Alamor sat by himself in his cabin, watching through the lone window as waves slammed against the Balcryst. The swells looked like the hands of some watery giant who continued a relentless attempt to reach from beyond the depths and capture a ship within its grasp. In between the waves, Alamor caught glimpses of the black sky, and the steady rain which was only a precursor to the downpour that would eventually assail the ocean.

The storm perfectly mirrored the emotions thrashing about in Alamor’s mind. Part of him was still consumed by anger, mostly at Tridian, for the Prince’s attempts to halt their journey, and especially for what he said regarding the Radia and Alamor’s role with them.

A greater part of Alamor was wrought with guilt. He had hurt Raissa deeply with his words and actions; that was the exact opposite of what he had promised to do from now on.

The worst part was that he had not even realized that what he did and what he said may upset her. At the time, all that he thought about was proving Tridian wrong. He was so driven to challenge the Prince and get his point across that he never considered the ramifications of his words.

That was Raissa’s brother who he insulted and fought with. Even if Tridian had been in the wrong, Alamor knew that he should have been more respectful to Raissa’s last living family, if for no other reason, for her.

“He’s never abandoned me like you did!”

Her words still stung. Alamor had never seen Raissa so distraught before, even when they had spoken about sensitive subjects, like the deaths of her parents.

And I’m the reason why… Alamor thought to himself. A crippling sense of disappointment rushed through him. He had gone through so much on his way to rekindling his bond with Raissa. Together, they overcame struggles that would have separated most people for life.

Now, a foolish outburst seemed to have negated all of that progress.

Raissa was right, after all. Tridian had been by her side for her entire life, and he must have offered tremendous support following King Aurilion’s death, without doubt the most trying period she had ever gone through.

Where had Alamor been that whole time? Moping and pitying himself, among many other decisions that he regretted. While his beloved friend was in pain, he sat around feeling sorry for himself.

The situation was not so different now, but there was little he could do to change it. Raissa had locked herself in her room all day, initially even refusing to let Hinton and Pauma in, until the Bachus managed to calm her. Alamor thought about going to see her earlier, but he realized that would not have been a good idea until the Bachus could confirm that she was ready to be spoken to.

Alamor was not sure what hurt more—how upset Raissa was, or that he could not do anything to help her.

He heard a knock at his door, a loud thud that could have only come from a huge fist. Alamor immediately knew who it was. “Come in,” he said, scarcely any energy in his voice.

The door opened, and Rawner stepped into the room. While he appeared to be in a pleasant mood, as normal, his big face was missing the grin it usually wore, as if in respect to Alamor’s situation.

“Hey, kid, how are you feeling?” Rawner asked as he took a seat next to Alamor on his bed.

“Guilty,” Alamor answered, not even bothering to turn his blank eyes away from the storm outside.

It was inevitable that a grin would eventually make its way across Rawner’s face. “Because of everything with the Princess, or because you punched royalty square in the face?”

“I never landed a single punch,” Alamor answered, being completely honest, even though it was obvious that Rawner was making a joke. He lifted an arm and patted his elbow. “I hit him with this, instead.”

Rawner laughed. “Where did you ever learn to fight like that?”

Alamor shrugged. “Something I picked up while I was training to be a King’s Fang, believe it or not. They always taught you that if you don’t have your weapon available, you fight with the part of your body that’s most similar to it, and I am a swordsman, after all.” Alamor showed a flicker of a smile, but only for a moment. He dropped his gaze and let his head hang in shame. “A really stupid one.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Rawner said. “Maybe you did make a mistake, and maybe it’s even a pretty big one, but it’s not the end of the world. I mean, if the consequences were that dire every time someone messed up, I’d still be stuck in a dungeon somewhere for one of the countless blunders I made when I was younger.”

Alamor sat back and looked up to the ceiling, releasing a gusty sigh at the same time. “I just feel awful about all of it. Raissa’s gone through so much, and nothing about this journey is easy on her. I should be one of the people who helps her get through all of this—not someone who just makes it more difficult.”

“Who says you still can’t be?” Rawner asked.

“Well, right now I can’t be because she probably doesn’t even want to see me, let alone talk to me,” Alamor grumbled, perturbed by Rawner’s blithe question.

“You’re being overdramatic, again,” Rawner said. “It took some work, but Hinton and Pauma seemed to have gotten through to her. That’s why I came to find you. This might be the best time to go talk things out with her.”

“Are you sure?” Alamor asked, very much hesitant.

“No way to know unless you try.”

Alamor stood, another hefty sigh shooting past his lips, as if he exhaled a thick cloud of stress from his lungs. “You’re right about that,” he conceded, and started to the doorway. Just before he stepped into the hallway, he glanced back at Rawner, showing the big man a faint, but appreciative smile. “Thanks, Rawner.”

Rawner crafted his own smile and nodded back. “Don’t mention it, kid.”

Alamor left his cabin and started down one of the long corridors inside the Balcryst’s hull. It was a few minutes before he rounded a corner and spotted Raissa’s bedroom at the very end of the hallway. Her door was open, and Alamor could see Raissa sitting on her bed, Hinton and Pauma by her sides. Raissa eventually noticed him approaching, but only spared Alamor a distressed glance before looking away. The Bachus noticed him, too, and after whispering a few final comments to Raissa that Alamor could not hear, they got up and left the room.

There was a look of sympathy in both Hinton’s and Pauma’s eyes as they came to meet with Alamor in the hallway. Still, they both managed a smile. “I think we got the job done, lad,” Hinton said proudly, adding a wink afterward.

Alamor lifted his eyes to Raissa once again, who only sat stoically on her bed, refusing to look in his direction. “I hope you’re right about that.”

Pauma only partially hid her grin. “Trust me, Hinton is right,” she assured. “The Princess may still be a little unnerved, but we reasoned with her plenty. The lass simply needed some time to cool down, that was all.”

Hinton nodded firmly. “Yep yep! You’re all clear to sit down and chat with her again. Just take it slow and easy. The girl’s still a tad tender, and by the looks of things, you seem to be, too.”

“I can’t deny that,” Alamor admitted.

Pauma gave Alamor a gentle, encouraging pat on the hip. “Be a gentleman like you normally are, and things will turn out just fine. The husband and I will leave you kids to yourselves.”

The Bachus continued on down the hallway, but Alamor paid no attention to them as they left. He only stared straight ahead, his pained, guilt-ridden gaze fixated on Raissa. She still had not looked at him. She almost seemed afraid of Alamor’s presence.

Alamor knew that it was not going to be an enjoyable conversation, but it had to be done.

He started forward, and only took a few steps before the entire hallway shook. Alamor lost his footing and toppled into the wall as it felt like the ship had been thrown into the air. When he recovered, he saw that Raissa had fallen off her bed. She was just as stunned as he was.

He began to call out to her to ask if she was okay, but his words were drowned out by a series of thunderous sounds which boomed above them. Raissa lifted herself to her feet even as the floors, walls, and ceiling continued to shudder. Her widened eyes met with Alamor’s, the two of them wordlessly asking one another—“What’s going on?”

Alamor wasted no time in trying to find out. He turned and began to hurry throughout the hallways, struggling to keep his balance as everything shook and trembled around him. He eventually found his way out of the hull and onto the main deck, where he stepped into a scene of complete hysteria.

The storm had grown even more violent, filling the air with furious sheets of rain. Arcs of lightning flashed in the sky, ripping through the clouds before sonorous claps of thunder roared over the ocean.

It was difficult to see through the heavy rain and darkness, but Alamor was able to make out the figures of Tridian and some of his companions standing atop the aft deck. He started toward them, navigating through the crowds of men and women who labored frantically to keep the Balcryst right. Gigantic waves continued to thrash about the ocean’s turbulent surface, striking the Balcryst and the other warships with strength that threatened to drag them beneath the waters.

As he ran across the decks, Alamor heard what he thought was more thunder, but the booming sounds were too near and too numerous. He eventually noticed flashes of fire and smoke through the rain, and he realized that the Balcryst’s cannons shot at something out in the ocean.

He also noticed Tiroku, who raced over the decks toward the stern. “Tiroku, wait!” Alamor shouted, somehow loud enough that the Champion of Light heard him over the din. “What’s happening?” Alamor asked as he joined alongside Tiroku. “Why are the cannons being fired?”

“The ships are under attack!” Tiroku answered as they pushed across the Balcryst. “Some kind of giant monsters have ambushed us!”

They climbed to the aft deck where the others stood, and where Tridian paced about frantically as he shouted orders. The Prince of Tordale brandished a weapon that Alamor had never seen him use before—an ornate lance that seemed to be fashioned entirely out of gold, aside from the steel blade at its head.

Alamor tried to spot the creatures further away. Through the curtain of rain, he made out two huge shapes in the distance. One was vermilion, and the other bright blue, azure. He peered closer, and he got a better look at the reptilian monsters as they swam on the ocean’s thrashing surface beneath the Waveskimmer, striking at the ship’s hull. Their long necks sent their fang-filled maws darting up along its wooden frame, while their claws tore out entire chunks with each swipe.

“Continue firing!” Tridian roared. “Get them away from the ship!”

“But, your Highness, those monsters are too close, now,” said a nearby soldier who was manning a cannon on the aft deck. “We may actually hit the Waveskimmer if we do that!”

“And if we just sit here and watch, the ship will be destroyed by those things!” Tridian’s fiery expression shot back to the Waveskimmer and monsters in the distance. “Aim and fire!”

The soldiers obeyed, steadying the cannons as best that they could in the torrid conditions. The hulking barrels recoiled and screamed, launching their shells through the pouring rain and far over the waves. Two of the shots landed just short, while the third struck the azure beast on the back and sent it tumbling under the waters.

But it appeared to do little lasting damage to the monster, who along with its vermilion-scaled partner quickly craned its long neck in the Balcryst’s direction and began swimming after Tridian’s ship.

The Prince of Tordale nearly had his soldiers open fire once more, but before he could utter the command, he balked at a sight ahead of him. A third monster emerged from the roiling ocean, a gargantuan behemoth of emerald scales that was twice the size of the other two, nearly as large as the Balcryst. It leapt clear out of the water, pouncing onto the Waveskimmer as a predator did to its prey.

The enormous monster crushed the deck beneath it, and the warship’s entire frame came apart. In just a few moments, the Waveskimmer and her crew were swallowed up by the ocean’s furious waters.

“Everybody head to the main deck!” Tiroku yelled. “Hurry!” He was seemingly the only person who had not been frozen in horror by what they had just seen. The Champion of Light got everyone down the stairs just in time as they felt the Balcryst buckle beneath their feet, surely from the two smaller monsters ramming into its sides.

Dozens of soldiers and sailors crowded the railings as the monsters surfaced and attempted to climb up along the Balcryst’s hull. Tridian’s troops released salvos of spears and arrows at the monsters, but their weapons were not even an aggravation to the creatures which had withstood cannon fire. The azure beast managed to pull its upper body onto the main deck, snatching two soldiers in its jaws before flinging their mangled, lifeless bodies away.

As the soldiers retreated, Alamor, Tiroku, Rawner, and Joth charged to meet the creature. Alamor felt a rush of energy shoot through his whole being as he took hold of his sword and shield. He began to call upon the Serenity rooted deep within his soul, ready to use it for the first time since Raissa helped him unlock it in the Hallowed Plane during his duel with Ilios and Iras, two of the Sages of Loyalty.

Alamor came to the monster before any of his companions did. He struck at its flank with a mighty cut as he summoned every measure of his magic into the blade.

His sword merely bounced off of the creature’s azure hide, failing to graze a single scale.

Time seemed to stop as Alamor’s mind separated from the situation at hand. His stunned eyes stared in disbelief at his sword’s steel blade, which had not shone with even a flicker of the luminous energy he wielded just a few days ago.

His Serenity refused to answer his call. He failed to summon it yet again.

Alamor was so distraught that he did not see the monster swipe at him with the back of its claw. He was thrown clear off of his feet and slammed onto the deck. He could only watch helplessly as the creature aimed its jaws down at him.

Tiroku rose to intercept it just in time, his sword flaring with white light. He slashed at the monster’s throat, and the magical aura burning around his blade seared through the monster’s armor-like scales. The creature lashed out with its free claw as Tiroku hurried away.

The ocean beast did not seem to notice Joth as he stormed in and attacked where Tiroku had already wounded it. The man from the Arid Reaches sent his saber darting into the open cut that Tiroku’s Serenity had made, stabbing through layers of soft flesh beneath the azure scales. The monster hollered in pain and reeled back, soon throwing itself off of the Balcryst and back into the raging waters below.

Rawner grabbed Alamor and hauled him back to his feet, but Alamor was still in shock as his companions regrouped at the center of the ship’s main deck. By then, several men had poured out of the lower holds to inform Tridian that the Balcryst had suffered damage along the hull, and was already taking on water. Several rooms were flooded, and there seemed to be no way to stop the leaks.

Tiroku was the first to offer a solution. “We need to get off this ship, now,” the Champion of Light warned.

“And jump right into that storm?” Tridian questioned. “We’ll never survive out there!”

“We won’t survive on board a sinking ship that’s being attacked by those monsters, either,” Tiroku argued, his eyes and words hardening. “At least out there, we have a chance.”

Tridian did not immediately have a reply for Tiroku. He desperately looked about the Balcryst’s chaotic deck, as if making one final effort to search for another possible plan of action before he would give in to Tiroku’s urging.

But Tridian found no other answer. He begrudgingly shouted a command for the lifeboats to be readied, and took the others to one side of the Balcryst where a pair of the small, wooden crafts could be lowered down into the waters. A handful of crewmen loaded the boats into their harnesses. With the boats dangling along the Balcryst’s hull, Tridian began directing Alamor and the others to drop into them.

Dayneth went first, although only to catch Raissa, who was hurried into the dingy by the others. Joth was the third to descend.

He would end up being the last. None of them paid any attention to the largest of the three ocean beasts as it surfaced and charged the Balcryst. Every cannon that could be aimed in its direction was fired, peppering the emerald behemoth with a barrage of explosive shells that bathed it in fire and smoke when they struck. It was enough to halt the monster’s advance, but not enough to save the doomed Balcryst.

The colossal monster’s jaws fell open and dispelled a concentrated beam of scalding water. The stream was like a laser as it passed by, slicing the ship’s masts clear in half and sending the wreckage spilling onto the decks. The monster quickly swept its beam over the Balcryst a second time, pulverizing the aft deck and tearing deep into the hull.

Nearly half of the ship exploded from the inside out. The lifeboat that held Raissa, Dayneth, and Joth dropped from the devastated warship, while the others still aboard the Balcryst were flung into the raging ocean, where they were swallowed up by the waves.

Alamor’s world became a dull blur of water and darkness. He was dazed and battered after being hurled from the ruined Balcryst, his consciousness hovering on the edge as he was slowly dragged deeper into the merciless ocean. His blank eyes could only make out the vague shapes of his friends nearby, some of them fighting doggedly to overcome the violent waters, while others were helpless to keep themselves from sinking further to the depths.

And then he felt something take hold of him. At first Alamor believed it was merely the powerful currents continuing to toss him about, until he realized that whatever had come upon him was pulling him along through the water in a deliberate direction. He tried to get a look at it, but by then his vision was only flashes of the murky and distorted surroundings.

Soon, he did not even know that, as the last of his consciousness faded away.

6

The day after Baldaron cast his sinister spell upon Heaven’s Bay and cursed its waters, he set his army’s course through the Tower Mountains, into the region that he once called home—the Arid Reaches. It lay in the far northeast corner of Tordale, a realm that was known to most only for its seas of sand, its hordes of outlaws, and its scorching heat. It was said that if a traveler wandered too long within the desert before finding shelter, the sun’s rays could eventually burn the clothes right off their flesh.

Although, when that sun retreated from the sky, and night took over the region, a bitter chill swept over the sands. The once-blistering air became caught in an icy grip that cut as deep as winter’s coldest gale.

The frigid air was so penetrating that even Tauroc and his fellow members the Rockclaw Tribe felt it prick their skin through their thick fur. Most of the Baroso warriors had spent their lives within the Tower Mountains, where Tordale’s tallest peaks were often enveloped by freezing air, and the winters were among the most brutal in the kingdom, but they still saw a need to build a sizable bonfire every night when Baldaron brought their march to a halt.

It was their third night in the desert, and just like during their trek through the mountains, Baldaron remained reticent about his destination and his plans. He rarely spoke to the Baroso. He kept his rare conversations mostly to his uncle, Golric, and his second-in-command, the huge Wraithling called Captain Ironbone.

As they stopped and began to make their camp for the night, Golric summoned every armored soldier under Baldaron’s command back to him. His hand glowed with dark magic, and the silent suits morphed into wisps of red light that eventually flew to his long, crooked fingers. Once all of the Wraithlings had returned to him, Golric promptly huddled beside a small fire that was built for himself, Baldaron, and Ironbone, even though he was the only one among them who seemed to have a need for it. Ironbone did not feel cold or warmth without any flesh upon his body, while Baldaron appeared to be immune to the chill that came to the desert at night.

Tauroc watched the man as he and the other Baroso gathered around the bonfire they made on their side of the camp. If the cold penetrated even the Baroso’s natural layers of warmth, it surely would reach far into the body of a human, the Rockclaw chieftain had assumed.

Yet, that night, like any that they spent in the Arid Reaches, when the temperature around them plummeted, Baldaron did nothing to acknowledge the freezing air, his muscles sparing neither a twitch nor shiver. The man stood alongside Ironbone on the opposite side of their camp like a statue, staring into the empty horizon.

Whatever it was that he gazed upon, or was searching for, Tauroc could not know. In a way, the Rockclaw chieftain was content with that. He believed that there was nothing to gain from understanding the diabolical desires of a man like Baldaron.

Tauroc looked back to the roaring fire that he and his fellow Baroso gathered around. The blaze that the Rockclaw warriors built that night was perhaps the largest and hottest of any during the time that they spent enslaved to Baldaron’s will.

The huge fire reminded Tauroc of the kind that his tribe regularly had burning in the center of their home upon the ridges in the Tower Mountains, Rockclaw Rise. Although his tribe built several huts in their settlement for shelter from the most unfavorable weather, they preferred to spend most of their time outside, especially when they slept. The great bonfire that burned in the heart of Rockclaw Rise warded off both the cold, as well as the darkness of night, allowing the Baroso to bask in nature’s boundless, pure air.

Tauroc longed to see that great bonfire again, along with the rest of his village and the many members of his tribe. It was more than a month that he had been away, marching across Tordale under Baldaron’s dark command, while the cubs, she-bears, and elders of the Rockclaw Tribe remained behind to clean up from Baldaron’s attack and await their kin’s return. Tauroc hoped that they were coping with this terrible circumstance. He did not worry for their safety, as the she-bears were just as strong and ferocious as the male warriors, and many of the cubs, like his son, were more than capable of defending themselves. But he was sure that there must have been terrible uneasiness within the village while so many of the warriors were away on a dangerous journey, under the order of a man who threatened to eradicate their tribe, should they not cooperate.

But it would all be over, soon enough, Tauroc continued to remind himself. He was not sure when that time would come, but he tried to believe that it would not be many more days before Baldaron saw the Rockclaw Tribe’s use fulfilled. When that happened, the sinister man would allow them to return to their ridges, where they could hopefully regain some semblance of peace in the wake of the devastation that came to Tordale.

Soon enough, we’ll be home again… Tauroc told himself.

“You’ve turned your eyes toward Lord Baldaron and I several times tonight.”

The voice broke Tauroc’s thoughts. He looked up from the fire and saw Ironbone standing beside him. The great Wraithling took a seat upon a rock next to Tauroc, a wicked grin never fading from his skull. “Is there something about us that’s beginning to capture your fascination, Tauroc?”

Tauroc sneered. “Not my fascination. But perhaps my disgust.”

Ironbone chuckled. His red eyes scanned the Baroso that sat about the fire. Most had gone quiet and stared at the skeletal giant as he spoke with their chieftain. “You continue to abhor the man who spared your life, and many of your own kind?” Ironbone asked, apparently to mock Tauroc’s hatred.

“Yes,” Tauroc answered, immediately. “And my kin feels the same, I assure you.”

“At least you’ll be able to say that you have kin when all of this is over,” Ironbone said. “That is a lot more than many others will be able to boast.”

Tauroc was both enraged and sickened by Ironbone’s comments. They were painful reminders to him of the horrors that Baldaron brought to the land of Tordale, atrocities which Tauroc and his tribe unwillingly aided.

“Why does he keep us?” Tauroc asked. “We know nothing of this desert. We cannot guide him to any place here.”

“Of course not,” Ironbone interrupted. “Lord Baldaron was born in and grew up in these parts. Few in the world aside from himself and his uncle know as much about the Arid Reaches.”

“So, what purpose is there in keeping us enslaved among his army?” Tauroc growled.

“He must admire the strength and ferocity of you Baroso even more than he would admit,” Ironbone said. “Aside from his own troops, your tribe might very well be the most fearsome group of warriors on this continent.”

“And yet your master saw for himself that we Baroso are not his, nor his army’s equal.”

Ironbone’s grin widened. He seemed to take pleasure in hearing Tauroc admit his tribe’s inferiority to Baldaron’s dark power. “That is true. But you and your warriors still bring noteworthy strength to Lord Baldaron’s ranks.”

“He wants to have us by his side so that we can watch him conquer this land region by region?” Tauroc snarled.

Ironbone shrugged. “That is a possibility, I suppose, but you must realize this, Tauroc—I know as much as you do about what Lord Baldaron has planned for your tribe. He speaks just as little to me as he does to you about subjects like that. I am not even sure if he’s divulged all of his thoughts to his own uncle. You can expect him to continue isolating himself for a little while, now that we have come to the desert. This is his homeland, after all. It’s the place where he was born and raised, and then saw everything he knew and loved destroyed in a single day. It’s a realm that tried to end him, but failed. I have to imagine that returning here for the first time in many years is bringing back a host of memories for him. His thoughts are with himself, not with the curiosity of his subjects.”

Tauroc’s lips curled at the mention of the Rockclaw Baroso being referred to as Baldaron’s subjects. “So, will he ever tell us when we will be free of our pact?”

“He will, eventually,” Ironbone answered. “But I assume it will not be until he feels you truly understand the reasons for why he recruited your tribe, and why he’s kept you among his army for as long as he has. Lord Baldaron prefers to keep many of his desires and ambitions private; rather than speak of them, he chooses to display them for all to see. He ascribes to the belief that actions strike deeper than words. It certainly explains why he had his uncle hide all of his Wraithlings, and make us appear vulnerable.”

Tauroc’s brow furrowed. He did not understand what Ironbone meant by those last remarks.

When Ironbone eventually turned and faced the Baroso chieftain’s bemused expression, the undead warrior smirked.

“You are not aware that we have been followed for the last few hours, are you?” Ironbone asked, and aimed his eyes into the murky horizon. “There is a fairly large group of bandits that have tracked us since late in the afternoon. I would guess that there are a few dozen of them, more than enough to outnumber you and your tribe. Now that Golric has summoned back all of Lord Baldaron’s soldiers, we must appear much more vulnerable to those bandits’ eyes. If that is the case, it is only a matter of time before they decide to head our way. The people who manage to live in this desert are brazen and ruthless. They will not spare an opportunity to ambush what they think is an unsuspecting party to plunder.” Ironbone chuckled softly to himself before continuing. “Unfortunately for those bandits who discovered us, they have no idea that Lord Baldaron understands their way of life even better than they do. They are about to attack a man who wandered this desert as a child and not only survived its merciless grip, but was forged into the most powerful being ever to walk this continent.” Ironbone’s chuckle quickly escalated into deep laughter. “They’re heading right into a fate worse than death.”

As Ironbone continued to laugh, Tauroc noticed several dots of light appear in the distance. They seemed to multiply in number as they began to slowly draw nearer while spreading out across the horizon. The sounds of shouting and hurried footsteps soon joined their arrival. It took only a few moments for the sounds to rise from far-off murmurs into a chaotic chorus. By then, Tauroc was able to discern the horde of bandits that ran through the darkness.

With torches and weapons in hand, the desert outlaws stormed into the firelight and encircled the camp. They were grizzled, wild men who very much looked as if they had all been chiseled into savage marauders by the unforgiving desert. Those with hair let their disheveled locks flow freely from their heads. Just about all of them bore some kind of mark of a previous battle over their faces; scars, missing teeth, even some with roughly fashioned eye patches. A few wore light armor or chain mail, but most donned thick, flowing cloaks over their ragged shirts and pants. Several had tawny skin, indicating that they were native to the Arid Reaches, while many more were tanned by the sun’s rays. These men must have been among the countless who came to the Arid Reaches from distant parts of Tordale, seeking to exploit the troubled region.

About half of them wielded bows that had an arrow notched firmly within the string, the arrow pointed at any of those among Baldaron’s ranks within the camp. The rest brandished a variety of axes, daggers, spears, and curved swords.

The men did not attack, but instead stood with their weapons aimed at their intended victims, holding all where they stood. One of the bandits soon came forward, who Tauroc assumed was their leader. The man was tall and garbed by a flowing cloak the color of stone, which concealed most of what appeared to be a simple vest and leggings beneath. His skin was darkened by the sun’s oppressive rays, although not darkened enough to hide the long scar that ran from beneath his left eye down to his chin before becoming lost in his thin, black beard. His messy hair fell into short, curled locks, and a dusty bandana held it from falling into his eyes.

He wielded a curved sword as he began to pace within the campsite. “It’s unusual to find Baroso in this desert,” he said with a callous grin. “You beasts don’t tread beyond your mountains too often. When I first got word that you were moving through here, I thought my boys were wrong, but here you stand before us, a pack of the great ‘Bear-men’. I doubt you have much in the way of riches in your possession, but there’s still a good deal of satisfaction in saying that we took down a band of Baroso. Your kind are like prized game to us.” The man looked about at his fellow bandits. “Am I right, boys?”

As the other outlaws cheered and hollered in response, Tauroc realized that they were guilty of a terrible misunderstanding. These men who attacked the camp seemed to believe that he and the Baroso were in charge.

“Pretty strange group you are, though,” the leader of the bandits continued. “Earlier in the day, you beasts were walking alongside a whole army of other soldiers. Now you’re just sitting around your fire all by yourself. Did you happen to run away from the rest of your pack?” He then turned his eyes toward Baldaron and Golric. “Or did you nab a few prisoners before you went rogue?”

Tauroc almost feared for the man as he began to approach Baldaron and Golric. “Are these men your slaves, now? You know, we don’t take too kindly to slavery out in these parts. If you’re going to force your victims to follow you after you’ve beaten them and taken everything, you might as well just kill them!” The man stopped midway between the Baroso and Baldaron, throwing his head back and breaking into laughter.

As most of the other bandits joined him with their own chuckles and cries, Baldaron stood and silently watched with a calm smile.

The leader of the bandits eventually ceased his laughter, and continued. “Or maybe I’ve got the wrong idea, and these humans are actually friends of yours. This one over here in the black armor and that long hair is nearly as big as one of you Baroso.” He then turned and stepped toward Ironbone. The undead warrior had never stood from his seat since the bandits arrived, nor turned away from the bonfire. The leader of the bandits came up behind him and tapped Ironbone on one of his shoulder plates. “The same with you, big boy. For a human, you’re a mountain of a living thing.”

Ironbone finally lifted himself to his feet. He turned, and showed the leader of the bandits a ghoulish grin. “Not quite human,” he said.

The leader of the bandits nearly collapsed. He stumbled backward, a look of both shock and horror coming over his features as he looked upon Ironbone’s skeletal face. It was only when Ironbone stood in full view that the rest of the bandits seemed to finally notice that he was no living creature of flesh and blood. Several of them loosed startled cries, and some nearly dropped their weapons.

“Wha-what are you?” the leader of the bandits gasped. “A monster?”

“No,” Ironbone answered, and turned his eyes toward Baldaron. “But he is.”

As panic quickly began to set in across the horde of bandits, Baldaron turned to Golric. “Uncle, would you like to show these men where the rest of my army lies?”

Golric cackled devilishly as both of his hands became enshrouded in crimson light. “With pleasure!”

The blood-red light arced from Golric’s fingertips and flew out in a multitude of bolts across the camp. They touched down on the desert’s sandy floor next to every last bandit, instantly materializing into the forms of Baldaron’s armored Wraithlings.

Most of the bandits were so awestruck that they had no time to defend themselves. The ghostly suits of armor lashed out with their cruelly-shaped weapons, disarming the men of their bows and blades before they delivered crippling blows that threw the men to the ground.

A few of the bandits, including their leader, reacted quickly enough to fight back against the sudden onslaught. Their leader, along with some five others, brandished their weapons in time to fend off the Wraithlings, but it only saved them for a few moments.

Ironbone was upon them at once. He struck with his jagged sword and bladed shield, overwhelming the men with unnatural strength and speed. Those who attempted to deflect his blows had their weapons thrown from their hands before Ironbone caught them with one of his deadly edges and brought them to their knees. Those who struck back found that even when they did manage to land a blow, their weapons were incapable of inflicting any pain or damage to Ironbone’s skeletal form.

Tauroc watched as the men fell one by one beneath the undead giant’s savage attack. In the middle of it, a shrill shriek split the air about the camp, momentarily drowning out the sounds of the numerous melees. Tauroc looked out into the desert and saw that a dozen of the bandits had ran off in a desperate escape. Before they retreated even fifty yards, three huge, winged shapes came hurtling out of the sky and landed upon them.

The men stood no chance as they came face to face with Destrala and her sisters. The Strife Wings ripped them apart with fang and claw in such a gruesome display that even Tauroc was forced to avert his eyes.

When he returned his gaze to the camp, the slaughter was over. Every last bandit lay upon the ground, disarmed of their weapons, and incapacitated with terrible wounds from the Wraithlings’ or Ironbone’s attacks.

Yet, not one of them had been killed.

Tauroc soon developed a grim suspicion as to why they had been kept alive. He looked to Baldaron, who finally moved after all that time. The man strode forward and approached the leader of the bandits. Although Baldaron kept his eyes fixed upon the leader, he seemed to speak to all of the bandits while he spoke.

“You said before that if you’re going to take everything from your victims, that you might as well just kill them. I agree. There are far greater uses to be found in those that you conquer than slavery. In the case of these Baroso, they have offered me great strength in battle, as well as knowledge of certain corners in this kingdom that I have traveled.”

Baldaron stopped just in front of the leader, and aimed his devilish smile down at the man. The leader of the bandits struggled to keep himself on his knees, clutching at an awful gash over his chest that Ironbone had inflicted, while staring up at Baldaron with a look of pure terror.

“Now, when it comes to you and your men,” Baldaron continued, “you offer me your very existence.”

Baldaron reached down and wrapped one of his enormous hands over the man’s throat. The leader of the bandits initially struggled as he sat within Baldaron’s grip, but when Baldaron’s eyes suddenly became engulfed in red light, the man froze. Droplets of glistening energy began to appear upon the man’s body, racing from his head before crawling onto Baldaron’s arm and disappearing into the black armor. The droplets became more numerous as the seconds went by, more and more appearing every moment as they ran over the man’s form and into Baldaron’s.

It was not just the leader of the bandits. Each and every one of the other outlaws went stiff like statues before they, too, began to tremble. Their eyes rolled into the back of their heads, and their jaws fell open, loosing only choked gasps. The same tiny bits of energy flowed over the mens’ bodies before flying off their flesh and through the air, all converging onto Baldaron.

At last, a ghostly form emerged from the leader of the bandits. It looked just like the man, as if his body had been morphed into pale blue light. The shade wore the same clothes as him, and bore all of the same physical features; even the broadened eyes and gaping mouth that revealed his expression of horror.

An ethereal image leapt from each of the other bandits, as well. Together, they soared toward Baldaron and onto his body, disappearing as they melded with his black armor.

When all of the ghostly forms and droplets of energy had vanished, the bandits went still. Baldaron released his grip on the leader, and the red light in his eyes faded.

Tauroc and the Rockclaw warriors glanced about at the dozens of lifeless bodies that now lay strewn about their camp, astonished by what they had seen.

“If you have ever been curious,” Baldaron broke in, drawing only a few of the Baroso to pull their stunned eyes away from the dead bandits, “that is the form that Scourge takes when I absorb a living being’s soul, the essence of their existence.”

Baldaron seemed to know that Tauroc and the Baroso were deprived of words. He turned from them and faced the Strife Wings, who now approached the camp.

“I would have had more men to demonstrate my power upon,” Baldaron continued, glancing past the Strife Wings at the mangled bodies of the men who the monsters had mauled, “but my creatures left nothing for me to consume.”

“Forgive us for the slaughter, Lord Baldaron,” Destrala said, she and the other Strife Wings bowing their heads. “If I had known you wished to absorb their strength, my sisters and I would have done our best to keep them alive.”

“It is no grave concern,” Baldaron said. “Even if you had been aware of my plans, it’s likely asking too much of a man to survive your fury.”

Destrala and her sisters grinned in response to Baldaron’s twisted compliment, revealing blood that still clung to their fangs.

“What news do you bring me from your flights over Sleekleaf Forest?”

Destrala’s grin vanished. “We managed to find the Princess and her allies several days ago, but they escaped our grasp,” the monstrous Strife Wing answered. “They fled underground into the tunnels. My sisters and I searched nearly every mile of the forest to see where they may have emerged, but they continued to elude us. We eventually lost any scent of them altogether.”

“If they are not in the forest, then where could they possibly be?” Golric asked.

“They may have taken to the underground tunnels beneath Sleekleaf Forest, once again,” Baldaron mused. “But if they intend to find the Radia of Hope, as I suspect, they will need to leave the forest. If they do not move by land at this time, then the only other way they could be taking is over the ocean.”

Destrala’s eyes flashed with vicious eagerness. “My Lord, if you command it, my sisters and I will fly at once to the ocean. We will sweep over the waters for as long as it takes to find their ship.”

Baldaron smirked. “No, Destrala, I will not have you do that. Instead, I ask that you three accompany my army for the time being while we remain here in the Arid Reaches. You and your sisters are among my most formidable servants, but the ocean is not your domain. That realm belongs to Garadev and his brothers.”

Destrala’s lips curled in disgust. “You will leave such an important task to those brainless reptiles?”

Baldaron was actually amused by her discontent. “I know that you are not fond of them, but there is no one among my army who is better suited to patrol those waters. Garadev and his brothers ruled that ocean before the Onda’s guardian monster drove them away. That defeat left them bitter, and hungry for revenge. When I found them and offered them an alliance, they did not hesitate to join with me.”

“If the little water lizards and their precious guardian proved mightier than Garadev before, then they will do so, again,” Destrala argued.

“They will have no chance, any longer. When I received word from some of my scouts that the Onda’s guardian went to slumber beneath the island of Waverock, I told Garadev and his brothers. They moved out with haste and attacked while she did not expect it. The Onda’s guardian is now trapped deep beneath that island. She will never breach the surface of the ocean again.”

“We should be thankful for that!” Golric added. “The Onda’s guardian is far mightier than any order of Spiritcasters. If we had to deal with her ourselves, she would have caused us a lot of trouble.”

Baldaron nodded in agreement. “And since then, Garadev and his brothers have continued to prove useful to me. They sank many trading ships, even a handful of the Tordalian navy’s vessels. They will be perfect for tracking down the Princess and her allies should they ever sail those waters.”

Destrala still did not appear to be swayed. “Garadev or one of his gluttonous brethren will probably just eat the Princess before they realize who she even is.”

The great Strife Wing did not jest, but Baldaron still chuckled. “If she must die at someone’s hands—or jaws—other than my own, then that is at least a fitting demise for her.” He turned away from the Strife Wings and looked into the dark horizon. “And if by some chance Garadev and his brothers fail, and the Princess and her allies manage to cross the ocean safely, I will be waiting for them here.”

7

When Alamor awoke, the first thing he saw was a moist, glistening ceiling high above. As his vision slowly cleared, he glanced about his surroundings. He lay within what looked to be a yawning room hewn entirely out of greenish rock, like a deep cleft in the side of a mountain. The green rock was the color of jade, with veins of brightly-tinted sediment running over its surface.

Alamor sat up, a sharp jolt shooting through his sore limbs. He gently stretched his arms to alleviate some of the stiffness that clung to his muscles, and it was then that he realized he was not wearing any of his armor, or even his cape. His sword and shield were also nowhere to be found.

He was not alone. Tiroku, Rawner, Hinton, and Pauma all lay on the moist floor around him, each of them sound asleep. Just like Alamor, Tiroku and Rawner were also missing their armor; they were only garbed by the tunics and leggings they normally wore underneath. Their weapons were also absent, as was Hinton’s large satchel that contained his blast orbs.

Alamor felt a cool mist caress his face. He looked ahead to the space’s opening, which revealed a fantastic view of the ocean and the afternoon sky. He stood and slowly began to make his way to the edge, his legs gradually remembering their strength.

He eventually came to an overhang, and saw that the ground dropped away into a jagged incline down to the water, where it met with the ocean’s rhythmic waves. To his sides, Alamor saw that the land ran off over the ocean, forming thick, rocky masses. The terrain sported nearly every color in the rainbow as it rose from the water, its vibrant surface spangling from the constant surfs that struck and doused it with mist.

Where are we? Alamor wondered.

He spotted a narrow pathway that ran from the edge of the overhang further down into the landmass. He entertained the idea of following it, but he heard someone behind him groan, and he recognized that it was Rawner. Alamor looked back and saw the man slowly sit up.

“Am I actually alive, or did I make it to the heavens after all of that?” Rawner asked, although he seemed to be wondering aloud more so than asking someone in particular.

“Nope, it looks like we somehow survived the night,” Alamor answered as he went to join Rawner, kneeling before his good friend. “Don’t ask me how, though.”

Rawner blinked rapidly to reclaim his vision. When he did, his brow furrowed, and he looked up and down his huge frame. “And what happened to my armor?” He glanced at Alamor. “Or yours, for that matter?”

Alamor shrugged. “Don’t ask me that, either.”

Nearby, Hinton and Pauma began to stir. Tiroku also began to come awake, although the Champion of Light was not the least bit groggy, while the Bachus appeared just as weary as Alamor and Rawner had been.

“What in stone and soil’s name happened to us last night?” Hinton asked through a great yawn, and shook his fur dry.

Pauma also shook free the remaining moisture that was in her fur. Afterward, her face bent into a grimace of pain. “Yikes! It feels like we fell down a mountainside. I tell you, this is a worse wakeup than from some of our wildest feasts back at the Bachu Caverns.”

Tiroku lifted himself to his feet with hardly any struggle. “Are all of you okay, aside from some soreness?” the Champion of Light asked, casually brushing off his arms.

Rawner also stood for the first time, although it did not come as easy to the big man as it did for Tiroku. “I’ll be fine after a few minutes. I just need to let the old body come back to life.” As Rawner bent from side to side to get some movement going through his body, he looked about the opening they stood in.  “More than anything, I’d like to know how in the world we got here.”

Alamor also wondered the same, but there was an even greater concern on his mind. “Or better yet, what this place is.”

An unfamiliar voice broke in no more than a moment after Alamor finished expressing his thought. “Onda Reef,” it said.

Everyone’s eyes shot to the edge of the overhang, where a creature stood next to the pathway. It looked like a lizard, but was man-sized, and it stood on its hind legs with its arms crossed. Its dark blue scales were like sapphires, while its underbelly was cyan, white around the edges. A long tail fell behind its body, the whip-like appendage occasionally writhing as the creature stood. Its head was smooth and narrow. There was an intelligent look in its eyes and smile as the creature watched the group.

Hinton nearly jumped when he first looked upon it. “What is that thing!?” the Bachu exclaimed.

Tiroku approached it without any hesitation. “He is an Onda,” the Champion of Light answered.

Even though Alamor had never seen an Onda in person, he knew that Tiroku was correct. The Onda were an aquatic race said to be among the most intelligent creatures in Tordale. They rarely ventured on land, and even fewer, if any, lived on the continent proper. Instead, they kept to the oceans, making their home on a variety of islands.

Tiroku offered his hand as soon as he came to the Onda. The aquatic creature accepted the gesture with a hand that was webbed with pale blue skin in between his fingers. “Well met, my friend,” the Champion of Light greeted. “My name is Tiroku.”

“And you can call me Sharq,” the Onda replied. They released their clasps, and Sharq’s eyes moved past Tiroku to Alamor and the others. “May I be introduced to them, as well?”

Tiroku introduced them one by one, telling the Onda their names and where they hailed from. Sharq acknowledged each of them with a friendly nod. The Onda was clearly pleased to learn more about them. “It’s nice to finally know some things about all of you,” Sharq said, a smile appearing in one corner of his snout. “You have been sleeping since you arrived here. Of course, it’s hard to blame any of you for that; you all are lucky just to have survived such a disaster as what you found yourselves in the other night.”

Tiroku took on a serious gaze. “Then it was you and your kind who brought us here?”

Sharq nodded. “Some of our scouts spotted your ships days earlier, and once our leader learned that you were a party associated with the royal family, she sent us out at once to warn you about Garadev and his brothers. Obviously, we weren’t able to reach you before those monsters did, but at least we got there in time to save several of you from certain death.”

“Is this ‘Garadev’ that you speak of one of those monsters who attacked our ships?” Tiroku asked.

“He is,” Sharq confirmed. “Garadev is the biggest and most powerful of the three that you encountered the other night. If you can remember any of it, he was the one who sliced your ship in half with that water beam he can spew. The other two are his brothers. The red one is called Rotour, and the blue one is Saphos. They may not be as dangerous as Garadev, but they’re still formidable beasts. Together, they make an even deadlier threat. When all three gather, they’re the bane of this ocean.”

Rawner showed a stunned, grave expression. “So that thing and the other monsters took out all three of our ships?”

Sharq nodded at Rawner. He was clearly not happy to make the gesture. “Unfortunately, your vessels were just some of many that Garadev and his brothers have destroyed recently. They have been menacing these waters for some time now, attacking all who sail in these parts.”

Rawner’s expression sank even more. “So many soldiers lost, then,” he said in a low breath.

“We believe that there are more who survived,” Sharq said. “This morning, one of our scouts returned and told us that he spotted some thirty men and women sailing in life boats several miles to the south. He said they looked like Tordalian soldiers, and that they were eventually taken in by other Onda on a smaller island. So long as those monsters don’t find that island, they should be safe.”

Alamor glanced in Tiroku’s direction. “Those monsters must have been what caused those trading ships to go missing a few weeks ago,” he said. “They probably destroyed them all.”

Sharq spoke up before Tiroku could even acknowledge Alamor. “If we’re thinking of the same ships, then I can tell you that you’re correct. My scouting party came upon the wreckage of five Tordalian trading vessels not long after they were attacked. Everything I saw of their remains told me that Garadev and his brethren were the reason that they sunk to the bottom of the ocean.”

“Were you able to find any survivors?” Tiroku asked.

“Not from those ships,” Sharq answered, “which is why it’s something of a miracle that so many of you survived, at all. No other crew attacked by those monsters have lived to see a day afterward. Myself and the Onda who carried you back here to the island weren’t sure if all of you would make it, but remarkably, you all hung on. It would seem that fate is intent on keeping you in this world for a little while longer.”

“You said that you rescued several of us,” Tiroku began, drawing Sharq’s attention. “Was it more than just us five?”

“Yes, we were able to save a few of your other companions.” Sharq explained. “And if I had to guess, they were definitely on the same ship as you five. They looked as if they came directly from Tordale Castle judging by their outfits.”

Raissa! Her name immediately flashed in Alamor’s mind. His heart began to race as he breathed a quiet, but hearty sigh of relief. She must still be all right, he thought to himself, overjoyed to hear that she was with their company.

“Speaking of outfits, what happened to all of ours?” Rawner chimed in. “The same for our weapons?’

“My scouts claimed most of what you all carried with you the night that they found you; everything is being kept in our armory,” Sharq explained. “We have made sure to clean them thoroughly and dry them so that they do not rust. You can grab everything at some point today, perhaps alongside the rest of your companions. Most of them awoke earlier this morning, and if I’m not mistaken, they’re currently speaking with our leader. If you want to see them again, I’ll take you to her chamber. As it is, our leader has also been anticipating an audience with you five.” Sharq turned and took a few steps down the path that ran deeper into the island. “Just follow me. I’ll show you the way and introduce you to her.”

Alamor and the others glanced about at one another for a moment, as if silently consulting before they started to follow behind Sharq. The Onda took them down the narrow trail, which clung to the side of the cliff before it turned and fell into the heart of the island.

Sharq was quick to indicate its namesake for Onda Reef. Far off from where they walked, a sprawling mass of coral stretched out into the waters, rolling on into the distance like one of the fields in the Plains of Oston. The reef was completely submerged beneath the ocean’s turquoise waves, but the waters were so clear that, even from a distance, one could make out the innumerable varieties of coral, algae, and marine creatures that came together into a thriving marine ecosystem.

As they continued over the island, the ground became slick from the constant mist that doused its floors, occasionally making Alamor or one of his companions slip as they walked. Sharq was as steady as if he strode over dry grass, his feet designed by nature to traverse wet surfaces.

There were many of his kind about the island while Sharq led them on. The Onda did not have any form of housing that they constructed on their own, not even small huts. The interior portions of Onda Reef were carved into the rock itself, Sharq explained, but unless the ocean conjured a violent storm, most Onda preferred to spend their days outside in the open air.

Alamor and the others saw that the Onda sported scales of varying color. Some were deep blue, like Sharq, while others came in shades of purple and pink. Although a few could be spotted basking in the warm sunlight atop tall rock formations, most of the Onda kept to the many pools and streams about the island. Some lounged comfortably within the waters or conversed with one another, while others went about their regular labor harvesting various weeds, shells, sediments, and other materials that the island produced for its inhabitants. The most common that Alamor saw were huge mussels, some bigger than his shield. Their shells were jet black, but when they were pried open, their insides were milky white, like snow.

There were even a few Onda that Alamor saw who leapt from the waters like arrows shot from bows, diving right back in afterward and continuing to swim with grace that no other species in Tordale could equal.

As the terrain upon Onda Reef climbed higher, the vibrant rock formations began to build up into the main portion of the island. It was truly a wonder that only nature could have erected, like the prized jewel of the oceans. Alamor thought that the island must have looked like a fortress from afar; the land continued to rise as it neared the heart of the island, where it eventually came together into a mountainous cluster of the vivid rock.

But no fortress built by living hands was this beautiful, Alamor knew. Even Tordale Castle, in its full splendor, could not compare this. It seemed that every time he looked in a different direction, he saw the island take on a new, sparkling shade. In one area, the ground seemed to be made out of solid ruby, in another, out of amethyst, and in another, out of pure gold. The rock seemed to know no ends when it came to its array of colors.

Sharq eventually brought them to the towering formation in the heart of Onda Reef, which they entered through a short tunnel. They stepped into a huge, rounded chamber that was perhaps even more beautiful than what lay outside. Much of the floor dropped away into a lake of the cleanest water that Alamor had ever seen. The tall walls rose to a domed ceiling, with a gaping hole in its center where the afternoon sunlight spilled in and illuminated the chamber.

Several Onda swam about in the lake, occasionally bounding out of the waters like the others that Alamor and his companions had seen. Other Onda, evidently guards, stood in place stoically, each bearing a spear that was crafted from what looked like the sturdy bones of aquatic monsters. The walls and floor were made of the same jade-colored rock as the room where Alamor and the others awoke earlier. Reflections from the lake’s shimmering waters danced across the walls in an elegant display. Several walkways were carved into the walls, running high above the chamber floor. Some seemed to follow after other tunnels and rooms, while others carried a pristine current of water that eventually formed into a waterfall and fell into the lake below.

Sharq directed them over a stretch of rock that reached across the lake, ending in a dais where a throne of white seashell sat. A female Onda stood just before it. She was a stunning creature, beautiful to all eyes no matter the race or being who looked upon her. Her scales were violet, except for her underbelly, where they were grey and glimmered like silver. She held a staff that was taller than herself, the rod carved out of bright pink coral and topped by a pearl the size of a man’s hand. She wore a crown that was also fashioned out of lavender-colored coral, a gorgeous headpiece with many points.

Sharq brought them before the dais and gestured to the stunning Onda who stood there. “Friends, allow me to introduce you to our leader—Tsunari,” he announced.

Even though Tsunari may not have been a monarch, Tiroku fell to one knee as a sign of respect. Alamor and the others did the same. After all that she had already done for them, their group wished to show Tsunari as much gratitude as possible, and that included venerating her as if they were her underlings.

“It is good to see you all unharmed,” Tsunari spoke as they came back to their feet. Her voice was smooth and warm, motherly. Her smile was just as comforting as she looked upon the group. “I understand that you have endured great hardship of late, but I am most pleased that my scouts were able to rescue you all from certain death.”

“We are very grateful for that, Tsunari,” Tiroku said. “I don’t think we will ever be able to thank you Onda enough for saving our lives.”

Tsunari shook her head. “No thanks are necessary from you, especially when it seems like you and your other companions are allies to us.”

“If I may ask, where are our other friends?” Tiroku inquired.

“They are retrieving their weapons and other possessions from our armory,” Tsunari answered. “I spoke with them shortly before Sharq brought you here. The royal family of Tordale is represented very well. Are the rest of you also from Tordale Castle?”

“No, we five actually come from a few different corners of the kingdom,” Tiroku answered. He introduced everyone to Tsunari and told her where they hailed from. “We only met with our other friends a few days ago out here on the ocean.”

“The ocean has not been a safe place as of late,” Tsunari said. “You had a very specific purpose for leaving the continent, didn’t you?”

“That is correct,” Tiroku answered. “Perhaps our other friends already told you, but we journey to put an end to the man called Baldaron and his army, who have swept over Tordale in the hopes of conquering it. Baldaron and his uncle are wielders of the destructive magic called Scourge, which once nearly engulfed all of the continent hundreds of years ago.”

Tsunari offered a grave nod. “Yes, we Onda have been aware for some time now of the terror that has befallen Tordale. Your companions told us all what Baldaron and his forces have done to the mainland in recent days. It is at least comforting to hear that there are some who intend to stand against this evil, but I am curious to know how you will do it. Your numbers were small even before that monster Garadev and his brothers attacked you the other night. Now, there are just a few of you left.”

“Strength in numbers has never been our plan,” Tiroku declared. “We already have a much greater power in our possession, and we seek another of its kind.”

Tsunari did not immediately respond. Her features hardened, her expression almost becoming stern. It seemed as if she knew what power Tiroku referred to. “Is that power the gem that this young man carried with him?” she asked, indicating Alamor.

“It is,” Tiroku confirmed. “You have kept it?”

“We have,” Tsunari answered, her voice lowering. “It nearly killed one of my guards when he tried to touch it, but it’s being kept with your other possessions.”

Rawner showed a look of surprise. “Nearly killed them, huh? That’s not what we thought the thing was supposed to do…”

Alamor internally echoed Rawner’s sentiment. How could the Radia of Gallantry have possibly harmed one of the Onda? Its Serenity was tremendous, but none of the Onda would be able to use that energy. What else would be so dangerous about it?

“Would you explain to me just what that gem is?” Tsunari went on to ask.

Even as he daydreamed, Alamor thought it was strange that Tiroku did not answer. He soon felt the Champion of Light nudge him on the arm, and he looked up to see that the Onda’s leader stared directly at him. Alamor’s body went rigid with embarrassment as he realized that Tsunari had directed the question at him. He swallowed nervously and hurriedly regained his focus.

“It is called the Radia of Gallantry,” Alamor began, gradually finding his words. “It contains the Serenity wielded by Xogun, the Sage of Valor, when he was mortal. He and Ralu, the Sage of Mercy, protected Tordale when Scourge ran amok centuries ago. Before they died, Xogun and Ralu instilled all of their magic into a pair of stones known as the Radia, to be used to protect Tordale from Scourge when it returned.”

“Such as it has, now,” Tsunari said, finishing for him.

“Yes,” Alamor said, acknowledging the gravity of the situation.

“You say that the Sages, Ralu and Xogun, created the two Radia. What is the other called?”

“The Radia of Hope. That one was created to hold Ralu’s Serenity.”

“Do you also possess that?”

“No, we are still searching for it. We know that Ralu’s Radia is hidden within a Spirit Shrine somewhere deep in the Arid Reaches. That was where we were heading before our ships were attacked the other night.”

“And you are confident that these Radia that you seek will stop the man called Baldaron and his army?”

Tiroku broke in and took over for Alamor in the conversation. “It would be unwise to place absolute confidence in any strategy, given the strength of our enemy, but the Radia do provide the greatest hope Tordale has to vanquish Baldaron. That hope is enough to place our trust and our efforts in them.”

Alamor was slightly relieved that Tiroku began to speak for him again. Even though he felt that he articulated himself well enough before Tsunari, he did not feel very comfortable doing so. He was nervous enough addressing the leader of a different race, never mind trying to explain the Radia and their magic—two things that he still did not fully understand.

Tsunari likewise appeared to have difficulty comprehending it all. She nodded several times in silence, not looking at Tiroku, Alamor, or any among their group as she digested the information. It was several moments before she spoke again. “I admit, I am not very familiar with magic other than what we Onda control, but I am very glad to know that there is in fact action being taken to protect Tordale. From what I have seen of the Radia you possess, you seek a truly tremendous power in the other. Perhaps you will be able to save this kingdom, in the end.” Tsunari’s expression took on a worried look as she averted her gaze from the companions. “We Onda would proudly assist you in your quest, however, we are helpless to do much beyond these waters at the moment. Ever since the man called Baldaron set Garadev and his brothers loose upon the ocean, we Onda are at grave risk by swimming far beyond this island. It was dangerous enough for Sharq and his fellow scouts to seek out your ships. He only did so to warn you, and, admittedly, because we hoped that you may be able to help us in some way.”

“So, then, those monsters—Garadev, Rotour, and Saphos—are in league with Baldaron?” Tiroku asked.

Tsunari nodded. “We believe so. Those monsters had been driven from these waters many years ago. That they have only returned now when Baldaron moved out across the continent seems like far too great of a coincidence. Ever since Garadev and his brothers came back to menace these waters, many Onda who lived further out in the ocean have been killed, along with several of my scouts. The ones that rescued you the other night were lucky to have not been noticed. Had they, surely none of you would have survived.” Tsunari looked back at the group. Her eyes suggested that there was more to the Onda’s plight than she had already revealed. “We are in even greater danger since we have lost our guardian, the ancient behemoth called Samuras.” Her words were especially morose, and as Alamor glanced about the chamber, he saw a look of great distress—almost defeat—upon every Onda’s face.

“Was she killed?” Tiroku asked.

“No, but she has been trapped inside the island of Waverock, to the south,” Tsunari explained. “The island houses a vast system of underwater caverns, which Samuras has often ventured to as she roams across the ocean. Garadev and his brothers ambushed her one day while she was resting there, causing a massive landslide that has locked her beneath enough rock that even she cannot break through.” A semblance of a sneer reached across Tsunari’s snout. “Those cowardly beasts know that Samuras is stronger than any of them, for she was the one who fought and drove them away from these waters many years ago. That is why Garadev and his brothers chose to trap her rather than face her in battle once again.”

“Can you tell us more about your guardian, Samuras?” Tiroku spoke up. “Is she of Onda blood in any way?”

“No, she is a leviathan of her own kind, with no equal,” Tsunari began, her voice filled with respect and admiration, as if she spoke of a god. “We Onda refer to her as the Queen of the Ocean, for she has guarded this part of the world since Tordale’s earliest days, ridding it of those who harm it and protecting those creatures who respect it, including my people. Onda Reef has long been a spot where she comes to rest, and any time she has, we Onda have always paid tribute to her, in gratitude for her protection. Throughout the ages, my people developed a connection with her; at least, as strong as one could be with a creature like herself. Samuras cannot communicate with us, but we Onda have learned to speak to her, in very unique calls and cries that her primal mind has proven to understand. This ‘language’, if you would call it that, is a very small selection of utterances that has been passed down through my bloodline. Only my family, the females of which have always been the leaders of the Onda, may learn it and speak it. My mother taught it to me as I grew up. Although the rest of my kind may venerate Samuras with song, dance, or prayer, I am the only one who can address her in speech. I do so to give her thanks for safeguarding the ocean, and if necessary, to request her might. Whether she heeds me is her own decision. If she were here, now, I could ask her to drive away Garadev and his brothers, so that perhaps we Onda could help get you back to the mainland. However, it has been weeks since she was trapped within Waverock, and still she has not emerged. It seems that she never will.”

“Is there still a way into the island called Waverock?” Tiroku questioned. There was a measure of conviction in his voice that hinted at a strategy on his part.

Tsunari blinked, as if taken aback by his words. “According to my scouts, most of Waverock is still traversable, it is only the cavern which Samuras had been resting in that is entirely buried.”

Tiroku’s aged eyes showed implacable resolve. “If you could show us the way, there might just be a chance that we could free your guardian.”

Like most of the Onda who heard it, Alamor’s eyebrows perked with surprise and curiosity. What in the world does Tiroku have in mind? he wondered.

“You truly believe that you can help Samuras escape from Waverock?” Tsunari asked, traces of disbelief still in her voice.

Tiroku nodded confidently. “With the skills and magic in our possession, I think there could be a way.”

Rawner stepped forward and joined Tiroku by his side. “If you’re going to put your trust in anyone, it’s this old fellow,” Rawner assured with a grin reaching across his face. He looked at Alamor and the Bachus, then. “And the rest of us, for that matter. We’ve gotten through some sticky situations before. We’re more than willing to chance another if it means lending you Onda a hand.”

Tsunari appeared to be filled with doubts and questions in the face of the offer. When she had no answer for them, she instead turned her head to the side, her attention being driven elsewhere. “If you do in fact intend to aid us, now you can at least discuss it with your other friends.”

They all looked in the same direction. Tridian and eight King’s Fangs entered the chamber through one of the long tunnels that ran into it. All of them were fully dressed in their armor or normal garb, and some even carried their weapons with them. Alamor recognized one as a veteran named Tagran, who he had seen while he trained years ago at Tordale Castle, and was now serving as Tridian’s right-hand man during this expedition.

Tridian was steel-eyed as his group walked along the path carved into the chamber wall. Alamor silently prepared for another argument to spring up now that Tridian would join them. He had no doubt that the Prince would be defiant to the plan proposed by Tiroku. Tridian had threatened to halt their progress once before, and he would surely be slow to accept their ideas, again, now that their journey had gone so far off course.

But as Alamor watched Tridian distrustfully, he eventually noticed something about the Prince’s company, or rather, someone that was missing.

Raissa.

Alamor’s heart pounded like a drum as Tridian’s eyes bounced across their group. It was as if the Prince looked for someone.

“Where is Raissa?” Tridian immediately asked.

Alamor felt his bones run cold.

“She has not been with you?” Tiroku replied.

“No, I assumed she was with the rest of you,” Tridian answered, worry rising to his features.

They shared a long, uneasy stare before their faces snapped in Tsunari’s direction. “Was there anyone else that your scouts rescued?” Tiroku asked. “A young woman, no older than Alamor here?”

Everyone looked to the Onda’s leader desperately, a silent prayer coming from the group that Tsunari would give them the answer they hoped for.

But she merely shook her head. “Unfortunately, no. You were the only ones who were brought back to our island.”

Alamor could not even begin to process his thoughts as he turned to Tiroku. “We have to go find her, now,” he gasped.

Tiroku gently laid his hands on Alamor’s shoulders. “We need to calm ourselves, first,” the Champion of Light advised, clearly intent not to let panic run through the group.

Tridian did not seem to agree. “Tiroku, I will not stand here and wait around while my sister is lost somewhere out there in the ocean or wherever else in the world!”

“I understand both of your concerns very well,” Tiroku quickly replied, his voice rising. “But it will not help us to lose our composure and make any rash decisions out of fear and worry.”

Alamor leapt away from Tiroku, throwing the Champion of Light’s hands off of him. “No, Tiroku, Tridian is right…we can’t abandon her!” Alamor stammered, his whole body shaking and his mind becoming warped by horror. “I-I can’t…I can’t…”

He never finished his sentence. Alamor turned and sped out of the chamber, not even hearing what his friends cried out behind him. He dashed back outside, hurrying across the island in a maddened sprint, nearly bowling over several Onda and passing by many more who watched him with baffled eyes. He finally stopped when he came to the beach that Sharq led him past earlier.

This time, he did not see any of the majestic sight before him. He saw the blue ocean as an endless, indestructible monster that Raissa was lost to. Alamor’s panic-stricken mind worked in a frenzy, trying to think of something he could possibly do to find her. He wanted to call out to her as loud as his throat would let him, just to see if by some miracle she might hear him, even answer him. He even considered diving into the ocean to search for Raissa, searching until he either found her, or the ocean and his exhaustion defeated him.

But then, the cold, unforgiving truth struck him like a sword stroke, and he realized how futile his ideas were. There was nothing he could do at that moment.

Alamor fell to his knees, his trembling eyes staring helplessly out into the ocean.

8

It was a somber day across Onda Reef after it was discovered that Raissa, along with Joth and Dayneth, were still missing out in the ocean. The fear that enveloped the companions from Caldeya and Geldiar permeated throughout the Onda numbers; even though not one of the ocean-dwelling beings had ever laid eyes on Raissa, they sensed their guests’ distress. They empathized with it, given their own plight in recent times.

Tiroku spent much of the day trying to keep the party at ease. It was a difficult task even for the wise Champion of Light to suppress their gloom, particularly with Tridian, who needed several hours to settle his emotions before he eventually listened to Tiroku’s counsel.

Alamor was left to himself. He chose to be alone for the day, refusing to speak to anyone.

When night fell over the ocean, Tiroku, Tridian, and Tagran once again met with Tsunari, this time to discuss the idea behind freeing the Onda’s guardian. Tsunari took them to a high ledge outside of her hall that provided them a panoramic view of Onda Reef and the vast ocean surrounding it.

Tsunari pointed out to the darkening horizon as she explained the whereabouts of the island known as Waverock. “It rests only a few miles to the south,” she explained. “The waters that you will pass through are fairly shallow compared to most regions of the ocean. The ocean floor does not fall very far from the surface in these parts, so you will not be swimming at a very great depth, at least until you reach the island. Waverock’s terrain is very steep, and there is little, if any, flat ground there. You won’t be able to traverse the island’s surface. You’ll need to enter through one of the chasms beneath it.”

“And all of this is underwater, as I understand?” Tiroku asked.

Tsunari nodded, but showed no worry for the fact. “Waverock’s core is a series of enormous caverns, some of which run below even the ocean floor in those parts. Be assured, though—you will not get lost along the way. All of the Onda scouts that I will have accompanying you have swam within Waverock before. Sharq is especially familiar with it; he will have no trouble guiding you to where Samuras is trapped.”

“I do not mean to disregard any of your intentions, Tsunari,” Tridian broke in, “but you say all of this as if myself, Tiroku, and our other companions are also Onda. We humans aren’t made for the water like your kind are. The depth doesn’t need to be very great before it can become dangerous to us. That’s not to mention that swimming the whole way will be impossible for us. No man can hope to hold his breath for that long.”

“There is a solution for that, Prince Tridian, one that my people have spent generations perfecting,” Tsunari said. She lifted her free hand, and as if at will, a stream of water suddenly rose from her feet and began to hover in mid-air around her fingers.

Tridian stepped back in surprise. He looked down to the ground, where he saw that the stream of water Tsunari somehow produced was the conglomeration of the moisture that lay over the rock. The thin, slick layer of water on the ledge’s floor had gathered into what looked like a long tendril at Tsunari’s command.

“Is that…magic?” the Prince of Tordale asked.

“It is,” Tsunari answered. “We Onda call it Waveweaving. It is a form of magic unique to our people, like the magic you call Serenity is unique to humans.”

Tridian still watched in awe of Tsunari’s spell as he spoke. “Is it like what the Aesur Airtamers can do? But with water?”

“I am not sure if any Onda in history has been in the presence of an Aesur,” Tsunari said. “So, while I cannot speak from experience, everything we Onda do know about the Aesur Airtamers leaves me to believe that our forms of magic are indeed similar. Where the Aesur expel their innate energies into the air around them and control it, we Onda do so with any amount of water nearby. Once our magic has entered the water, we assume full command over it. We can have it take different shapes, like what I do now; we can also change the water’s form, having it become steam, or even ice.”

Tsunari demonstrated that claim. Her eyes hardened for a brief moment, her focus assigned only to the strand of water she had summoned. In seconds, the aqueous tendril solidified, the water freezing before everyone’s eyes until it became a spiraling mass of ice.

Just as Tsunari released her spell, and before the icy strand could fall to the ground, Sharq raised a webbed hand. He kept Tsunari’s construct aloft, revealing himself to also be a Waveweaver. With a flick of his fingers, the ice melted, becoming water once more.

“One of the other techniques that the most skilled Waveweavers know is how to separate pockets of water within a larger amount,” Sharq said. He gestured to make the water strand morph into a ball. He flicked his fingers again, and this time, a very obvious air bubble materialized within the watery globe. “When you accomplish that feat, you can have a small area of empty air sitting inside a body of water as vast as the whole ocean.”

Tagran’s eyebrows perked up. “So then, in theory someone could breathe while underwater?”

“Not in theory,” Sharq corrected. “It is proven.”

“That’s how you brought us to your island safely, isn’t it?” Tagran deduced. “You used your magic to keep us from drowning while you swam all the way from our ships.”

Sharq nodded, adding a grin. “There would have been no other way for us to get you all here alive; at least, as quickly as the other scouts and I did.” He lowered his hand, and just like that, the watery globe he once commanded fell to the ground with a splash.

“I assume that Waveweaving wears on your physical being, just as my magic does, when immense quantities are summoned,” Tiroku said, turning to Tsunari. “Are you confident that you Onda can maintain those spells long enough for the journey to and from Waverock for my party?”

“My scouts will only have to summon the spell as an act of desperation,” Tsunari said. “I do not say this to boast, but I am the mightiest of all Waveweavers among the Onda; it is a power that runs through my family, and part of why we have always been the leaders of the Onda. My magic, alone, is strong enough that I will be able to grant every person in your company the freedom to breathe while you swim to Waverock.”

“I know it might sound scary, but you’ll see firsthand that Tsunari means what she says,” Sharq interjected. “My scouts and I were able to cast the spell long enough to bring you all here to Onda Reef, and none of our magic even begins to compare to Tsunari’s. With any luck, hers will last long enough that we’ll only have to cast something on you all for the final few minutes of our swim home.”

Tridian pursed his lips worriedly as his eyes moved back to the ocean. “We’re going to need a lot more than luck for what we have ahead of us, though” he said.

Tagran also stared pointedly into the dark, watery horizon. He laid a reassuring hand on Tridian’s shoulder. “At least we have this opportunity before us, your Highness. This small hope is better than none at all.”

“I learned a long time ago how to get by with only meager shreds of hope,” Tridian replied, clearly reminiscing on the many struggles that he had seen in his lifetime, both old and recent. “If I thought that there was no chance for us to succeed, I would not have us join this mission.”

Tiroku let a faint smile cross his face. “I am glad to hear that you have made a decision in this matter,” Tiroku said. “We will need your support if we are to accomplish this task.”

Tridian did not express the same enthusiasm that Tiroku did, but he showed that he was in agreement. “If it gets us any closer to possibly finding my sister and the others, it has my full support. I promise that I’ll give whatever effort that I can, as will my remaining soldiers.” He turned again to Tsunari and Sharq. “I just hope that this monster of yours doesn’t think of us as her enemy when we head into Waverock. Or, as a meal.”

Sharq had to restrain himself from breaking out into laughter. “Trust me, you won’t have to worry about that,” he said. “We’re so tiny compared to her that we’d hardly make a satisfying snack, even if she saw us as an enemy. If Samuras wants to hunt, she goes after the biggest prey in the ocean, creatures like whales, giant squids, and the largest serpents. She doesn’t do that regularly, though. She usually prefers to feast on the huge kelp holdfasts that gather throughout the ocean, or any of the coral reefs, like some of our formations here. She’s always found the coral on Onda Reef particularly enticing, which we believe is partially why she returns here so often. If it wasn’t for Tsunari and other Onda leaders’ ability to communicate with her, we doubt Samuras would permit us to live on this island.”

There was a hint of regret in Tsunari’s smile as she chimed in. “I still feel as if there is more that I could contribute to this task. I am sending you to free the mightiest creature in the ocean, who will likely terrify many among your company, into an environment not meant for your kind. That is much for me to ask of allies we Onda have only met this day.”

Tiroku returned the smile. “You said it, yourself, that if we have Sharq and the other Onda scouts with us, they will be able to show us the way, and that your guardian will know that we are not her enemy. There is no reason for you to put yourself in danger. The rest of the Onda will need their leader here if anything unexpected should happen while we’re gone.”

Tsunari nodded in concession, still smiling the whole time; she had no argument for the Champion of Light.

Tridian’s blank stare slid to Tiroku. The Prince was surprised, maybe even impressed, to hear what influence Tiroku’s wisdom had on the leader of another race.

Tsunari eventually waved a hand to dismiss her fellow Onda. Sharq and the other scouts turned and walked off into the island’s central chamber, as Tsunari prepared to follow behind. “I would think that we have discussed all that is necessary, then,” she said. “Is there anything else to be said here, or that I can do for you before we all retire for the night?”

Tiroku briefly glanced over the ledge, down to the beach below. He held his gaze upon the lone person sitting among the sands. “No. At least, not between us.”

* * * * *

Alamor sat in silence, his languid eyes settling upon the night sky and the dark ocean that filled the horizon. He had not moved from his place on the beach in hours. He had no desire to.

He isolated himself since learning that Raissa was missing, refusing to eat, speak with any of his friends, or even dress in his armor. There was no will in him for any of that. The only time he left the beach was for a few minutes to grab one of his possessions from the armory.

He looked down at his hand, which cradled the Radia of Gallantry.

It bought him no comfort.

Hardly a week ago, Alamor held the blessed relic and felt the greatest source of power he could ever have imagined. It was the culmination of a series of events that saw him discover new purpose in his life, and saw him redeem himself for his most painful failures.

He had rekindled his relationship with Raissa. He had finally learned to channel his Serenity, the very same that once defeated him, and haunted him for so long. He had realized that he played a role in protecting his homeland from a terrible threat.

In just one night, all of that was ripped away from him. All of the progress he had made was for naught. The greatest source of inspiration in his life—the very person who had helped him overcome his fear of the Serenity and learn to harness it—was lost. She might no longer be alive.

He had also lost his ability to control his magic. When he tried to summon it on his own as the Balcryst was attacked by Garadev and the other monsters, he failed—just like all of the other times before.

Alamor was not sure why. He had felt no different at any time leading up to that night during the storm, no less capable of projecting the magic that dwelled within him. But when he attempted to call the Serenity to his aid, he received no answer. He felt as weak and as powerless as he had when he first endeavored to be a Spiritcaster.

If he could not use his Serenity when he needed it most, how could be possibly defeat Baldaron?

He heard someone nearby, but he did not have the interest to look and see who it was.

Tiroku eventually joined him at his side, and they sat together on the sandy shore. They did not acknowledge one another. It was as if they were oblivious to the other’s company, not so much as looking at the other as they sat in strained silence. Alamor aimed his sullen expression into the sand, while Tiroku’s stoic countenance reached far over the ocean.

The drawn out hush lasted for some time before Tiroku finally spoke. “What did you feel the other night when we fended off that beast on the Balcryst?”

Alamor lifted his bemused eyes. “What do you mean?”

Tiroku kept his gaze fixated ahead of him. “You tried to summon your Serenity when you went to attack that monster. I know this.” He spoke his words in a kind of commanding declaration, as if he expected Alamor to deny any of it. “Tell me what you felt when you attempted to project your Serenity.”

Alamor’s gaze dropped. He felt any trace of emotion that might have existed in his features dry up. “Nothing. I didn’t feel a thing.”

Tiroku nodded, stoically accepting the answer. “Then we have yet another grave concern on our hands.” He finally looked at Alamor. His eyes were cold and penetrating. “You have a grave concern that you must solve on your own.”

Alamor could not bring himself to meet Tiroku’s eyes. A crippling mixture of distress and disinterest amassed inside of him. “I don’t know how I can do that.”

“Then I implore you to find a way past this issue as soon as possible,” Tiroku said. “We need you to be at your most capable when we set out to free the Onda’s guardian tomorrow, and especially for when we continue on with the rest of this journey.”

Alamor’s lips curled. “Didn’t you hear me before? I don’t have any idea how to use my Serenity! The only way that I’ve ever known clearly doesn’t work. Either it’s not the proper method, or I’m just not capable at all.”

Alamor expected Tiroku’s own anger to rise, but the Champion of Light remained calm in response to the defiant outburst.

“Your magic has not vanished,” Tiroku noted, his tone still stern. “We can see this because of your ability to hold Xogun’s Radia with your bare hands. That may not seem like very much of a feat to you at this moment, but it proves that you still have tremendous Serenity welled up inside of you, just as I have always suspected. You unleashed that magic once before. It may have been under very unique circumstances, but if you were able to do it once, you can certainly do it again. You have merely arrived at an impasse where your struggles are the same, but you require a different path to overcome them. You thought that you had solved everything with Serenity, as well as everything with your relationship with the Princess. You were wrong, but as you should understand very well by now, you can always make things right if you strive for it. You must endure this shock that you are feeling and realize that you can resolve all of this by getting back on the path that you set yourself on, where you sought to restore the faith between you and the Princess, and your faith in your Serenity.”

At once, Alamor’s anger subsided. He felt his disappointment and anguish renew themselves as he thought back to when he battled Ilios and Iras inside the Hallowed Plane and released his magical ability for the first time.

He thought of the one reason why he was able to do so that time.

“Without Raissa, I don’t think I can ever do it again,” Alamor said, choosing not to hide any of the shame that he felt about himself.

“You must not think that way.”

“How else can I? You said it yourself that night we sailed out of Sleekleaf Forest—Raissa inspires more confidence in me than anyone or anything else, and I knew it to be true. I’ve always wanted her to be proud of me. If it wasn’t for her, I never would have believed in myself enough to channel my Serenity in the first place.” Alamor stopped for a moment, the realization of his futility hitting him harder than ever before. “That’s why I couldn’t summon my Serenity the other night, because she was still upset with me after my fight with Tridian. Knowing that she was so mad at me, disappointed in me, I didn’t have the same faith in myself as I did before. Without her, I’m clearly powerless.” He looked up at Tiroku, his face suggesting that he had been defeated. “I’m no Champion of Light, Tiroku, and I’m definitely not one of the Echoes of Light if I can’t use my Serenity without Raissa’s encouragement.”

Tiroku stared at Alamor’s expression of hopelessness for a few moments before releasing a quiet sigh. He turned away, his eyes closing with a subtle grimace. “You do not have a choice, Alamor,” he said, an edge in his words. “It pains me just as much to say this as it probably does for you to hear it, but there is a chance that Princess Raissa perished last night. I pray that there is hope for us to someday reunite with her, but we must accept the possibility that she will no longer be with us on this quest. If that may be the unfortunate case, we still have a mission to complete, and you have a task to complete. With or without the Princess, we must stop Baldaron. Otherwise, all that we know will come to an end.” Tiroku’s hardened visage fell back to Alamor. “You must let Princess Raissa embolden your power, but you cannot let her be your power.”

Alamor knew that everything Tiroku said was true, and that Raissa would agree with all of it. If anything, she would probably say the very same things to motivate Alamor, if she could.

If she could…

Alamor understood the responsibility that lay before him—the kingdom itself, and every living being in Tordale, their fates rested on the success of his company claiming the Radia and fulfilling the Legend of Light. Of everyone in his company, Alamor carried the biggest responsibility, as he was supposed to use the Radia against Baldaron, the harbinger of Scourge.

He knew all of this.

He also knew that he could not see it come to fruition.

“I can’t do it,” Alamor finally said, his mind wrought with so many doubts. He extended his hand—and the Radia of Gallantry—to Tiroku. “Here, you hold onto this. I’m not capable of the Serenity that we need, but at least you may be.”

Tiroku did not face Alamor directly. He peered out of the corner of his eye, where traces of anger began to kindle. “No, Alamor, I cannot use either of the Radia.”

“But you’re a Champion of Light, one of the greatest Spiritcasters in Tordale,” Alamor pressed, in desperation. “If anyone can do it, it has to be you. Why waste time and hope in thinking that I can wield the Radia? With you, we’ll stand a much greater chance of stopping Baldaron and saving Tordale.”

“You know that I failed to acquire the Radia of Gallantry when I first tried.”

“But that was so many years ago! You’re not the same person now that you were then; you’re a much greater Champion of Light today! You said it, yourself—you can make things right if you strive for it. You couldn’t obtain the Radia of Gallantry before, but maybe you’ve become worthy since then.”

Silence fell between them. Tiroku eventually stood, his expression still and austere.

What Alamor did not see was the conviction that boiled beneath Tiroku’s features.

“Very well, Alamor. I will take it.”

Tiroku reached out and placed his hand over the Radia of Gallantry. At once, it flared with a bright light, but not the noble, righteous light as what it emitted when Alamor first claimed it. This light was violent and merciless, like a maddened outcry against the fingers that touched it.

Before Alamor could even react, Tiroku pushed him away. When Alamor regained his footing, he froze in horror at the sight before him.

Arcs of white magic crackled along the Radia’s sharp edges, racing into and upon Tiroku’s body, seemingly torturing him for placing his hand on its blessed form. Tiroku’s legs quivered, threatening to give out at any moment under the duress. His face became a strained mask of agony.

Alamor realized, now, how the Radia of Gallantry must have harmed the Onda guard who touched it.

“Do you see, Alamor!?” Tiroku cried. “Do you see what happens when an unworthy being tries to harness this Serenity!?”

Alamor threw himself at Tiroku to take the Radia away, but the Champion of Light hung on with what seemed like an unbreakable grip. “Tiroku, stop! Let go of it!”

“No, Alamor, you must understand why it is your responsibility to wield this power! You must realize why it is your duty to wield the Radia and fulfill the Legend of Light!”

Alamor continued in vain to either overpower Tiroku or pry the Radia from his grasp, but somehow, the Champion of Light maintained his hold. Alamor could see the agony in Tiroku’s expression as he endured the Radia’s unforgiving response to his touch. Alamor could feel the wrathful Serenity that overwhelmed Tiroku’s entire being and punished him for trying to hold one of the Radia in his own hand.

“Tiroku, stop! Please stop!”

Alamor finally managed to wrench the Radia out of Tiroku’s hand. The furious light and magic faded almost instantly. Tiroku collapsed to his knees, breathing heavily, his grimacing features coated in sweat. Alamor set the Radia down at once and went to check on Tiroku.

“Are you oka—”

The Champion of Light did not allow him to finish the question. Tiroku burst to his feet and limped away, not once looking back at Alamor.

Alamor watched Tiroku go, his face raw with disbelief. He then slowly, fearfully, turned back to the Radia of Gallantry.

It lay within the sand, its shape now dull and without any activity, as if its violent response had never occurred.

Alamor hesitantly reached for it. He gingerly placed his fingertips upon it, afraid that it may react the same way it did for Tiroku. When nothing happened, he let his hand wrap about Xogun’s Radia.

Just like all of the other times before, he held it without any difficulty. He felt no pain or agony—only the awesome, divine magic that rested within its sharp form.

If Tiroku can’t even lay a hand on this… Alamor thought, then that means…

The truth began to trickle through him.

When Scourge reawakens and casts its shadow over the land

The Echoes of Light shall rise, challenging it with purest magic in hand

Proving their will, faith, and truth in the world’s darkest hour

A Gleaming Path shall lead them to Tordale’s inexorable power

Guided by valor and mercy to thwart all that is malice and hate

They who wield the light shall usher in a Radiant Fate

Alamor did not have a choice—if Baldaron was to be defeated with the Radia, if Tordale was to be saved, he had to find a way to control this Serenity, and his own.

9

Following his conversation with Tiroku, Alamor waited quite some time to retire for the night. Eventually, he went up to the room inside Onda Reef that he and his companions were offered to sleep in, the very same where they first awoke earlier that day. By the time Alamor got there, all of them were already asleep, including Tiroku. Alamor joined them, but he was unable to enter the same peaceful rest that they enjoyed.

He lay awake for most of the night, his mind enveloped in deep thought. Alamor could not stop thinking about what happened when Tiroku tried to hold the Radia of Gallantry, how its Serenity rejected the Champion of Light’s touch and lashed out at him for it. Alamor was still in a state of shock, almost disbelief, as he tried to fall asleep. He could hold the Radia of Gallantry without any difficulty, as if it were an ordinary rock, but when Tiroku—the greatest Spiritcaster he ever knew—attempted the same, it nearly killed his wise mentor.

It left Alamor with a maelstrom of thoughts and questions about their mission, but even more so, about his own role in the mission. Hours before, he had abandoned all hope in his duty to wield the Radia and wanted nothing more than to rid himself of the responsibility.

He still did not understand much of it, but as he lay there that night, he felt that, perhaps, he truly did possess an ability that was much greater than he had first imagined.

Eventually, Alamor managed to finally fall asleep, and it was a deep slumber that granted him a few hours of much-needed rest after the strenuous day. He would likely have slept well into the afternoon had he not be awoken by an Onda guard early in the morning. As his senses slowly returned to him, Alamor saw that he was alone in the room. The Onda guard informed him that the others awoke nearly an hour beforehand, and were all readying themselves down on the beaches to head out on their journey to Waverock. The guard guided him to the armory inside Onda Reef, where the Onda had kept all of the armor and weapons among Alamor’s party after they were rescued.

Not only were they stored there, but they were also treated. Alamor’s crimson armor had been rolled within sand to dry it out and clean it, the same for his sword and shield. In addition, the Onda guard explained that his weapons, as well as his companions’, had all been coated with extract from the huge mussels that grew upon Onda Reef. The extract was a white, slimy substance that the mussels secreted from their largest organ, as Alamor was shown, which kept their shells shut even under the strongest water currents. When the secretion dried after being applied to a weapon, it created a thin, nearly imperceptible coating that the Onda said would keep any metal from being damaged by the ocean’s salty waters.

The guard left Alamor by himself to dress in his armor, since Alamor knew the way to the beaches once he was finished. He slipped on every piece of his crimson mail, as well as his white shoulder pads and his silver cape.

Just as he was finishing, Tridian entered the armory.

They shared only a passing glance at one another, but there was heavy tension between the two when their gazes met. The silence that filled the armory quickly became a strained one.

Without looking back at Alamor, Tridian went over to claim his spear. The Prince of Tordale lifted his weapon and inspected the blade, running his fingers over its steel surface.

Alamor hastily grabbed his sword and shield and started forward. He was nearly out of the armory before he heard Tridian behind him.

“Wait, Alamor.”

He stopped. For a moment, Alamor considered walking ahead and ignoring Tridian. He was in no mood to engage in another hostile discussion.

But he turned around nonetheless, and gave the Prince of Tordale his attention.

Tridian did not say anything else, at least immediately. His words appeared to be caught on a combination of hesitation, and frustration. When he eventually did speak, again, it came after a labored breath. “I apologize for what happened between us the other day. There is no excuse for what I did to you.”

Alamor was surprised to hear a tone of sincerity out of Tridian. Although the Prince of Tordale’s countenance was hardened, and he chose not to look Alamor in the eye, Tridian seemed to be genuinely remorseful. It was a few moments before Alamor was able to decide on the appropriate response, and he only found one that was suitable.

“There’s no excuse for what I did to you, either.”

Tridian shook his head.  “You had every right to strike back at me. There was no reason for me to attack you that way.”

“I wasn’t talking about when I tackled you or hit you,” Alamor clarified. “I meant when I questioned your love for Raissa.”

“Perhaps you never would have said that had I not called you a coward.”

“You weren’t wrong. At least, if you were referring to what I think you were. You meant how I never returned to see Raissa after my training with the Dawnwatch, didn’t you?”

Tridian nodded, but he seemed angry with himself that he had to do so.

Alamor could not blame him for that anger. “Well, when you’ve been there to comfort and protect Raissa for her entire life, and someone like me runs away from her because he’s depressed, I can see why you’d be bitter toward them. If I were you, I’d probably hate me, too.”

“I don’t actually hate you,” Tridian said. “No matter what you did in the past, I can’t deny your devotion to my sister ever since that day you returned with Tiroku. With you, she’s been in good hands when I haven’t been around the last few weeks. You’ve gone to great lengths to protect her, and I’m grateful for that.”

Tridian’s expression did not soften, but his graciousness was evident. Alamor averted his eyes and released a quiet sigh. “I wish we could say that I had protected her better aboard the Balcryst the other night.”

“Unfortunately, I think that was out of our control,” Tridian said. “No matter how much you or I have strived to keep her from harm, there was nothing we could do to change what happened that night. All that we can do now is assist Tiroku in this plan of his, and if we free the Onda’s guardian, we can get off this island and start searching for Raissa.”

Alamor looked up at Tridian. He was surprised by the certainty that the Prince spoke with. “Then, you truly believe that she is still alive?” he asked.

“I have to,” Tridian answered. “I can’t possibly go on without her in my life. And I’m sure that you are no different.”

Alamor did not need to respond; they both knew that Tridian was right.

“You must forgive me, as well, if I am a little slow to fully trust in the Radia,” Tridian went on. “I don’t doubt that they contain incredible Serenity, but…I am not always so quick to worship the magic of Serenity.” Tridian paused. His features tightened; he was obviously fighting back the emotion that attempted to overwhelm him. “Serenity is supposed to be this pure, divine power that can heal and protect, yet no amount of it was able to help my mother when she died. She was said to be one of the greatest Spiritcasters of our era, and even she did not have the ability to save herself from an untimely death.”

Alamor could relate to that sentiment. “Well, as you know, I haven’t always had the best experience with Serenity, either,” he said. “It’s a mysterious form of magic, that’s for sure. Sometimes, I get the feeling that it’s not meant to be entirely understood. Trying to rationalize it when I trained as a Spiritcaster just brought me disappointment. Trying to rationalize it even now, after I acquired one of the Radia, has done me little good.”

Alamor held up on his words. He waited until Tridian finally looked back at him. He needed to be eye-to-eye with the Prince for what he would say next.

“But if it alleviates your doubt at all, just know that it was only because of Serenity that Raissa and I were able to return safely from the Hallowed Plane. Serenity was what allowed me to protect her while we tried to obtain Xogun’s Radia, and I’m ready to use it again to save her.”

Tridian smiled, as sincerely as Alamor had ever seen of him. He approached Alamor until they were no more than a foot apart. The Prince of Tordale reached out and set his hand on Alamor’s shoulder. “Then let’s go find her.”

Alamor smiled, too. He patted Tridian on the chest, as one would do to a lifelong friend.

They left the armory together and headed out onto the beaches. They eventually found their comrades on the island’s southern shore. All twenty of the Onda scouts who were to accompany them already had gathered there, each one outfitted with one of the Ondas’ traditional weapons—a spear carved from the bones of great ocean monsters, or a pair of curved blades hewn from the hardest coral on the island and treated to be as sturdy as metal. Sharq was one of the warriors who wielded those blades, his pair bright pink in color, and their handles blue like that of an aquamarine gemstone.

Many other Onda had gathered there, far more than just the scouts who were heading out to Waverock. Plenty were there to send their brethren off and wish them well on their mission. Tagran and the other seven King’s Fangs who had survived the attack the other night were there, as were Rawner and the Bachus. Tiroku was further off from most of the gathering, speaking with Tsunari.

Alamor was thankful to see that the Champion of Light was unharmed after what happened the night before. He was also thankful that Tiroku was occupied at that moment, as Alamor was reluctant to speak to him, or even be near him. Alamor felt guilty over the dangerous occurrence with the Radia of Gallantry, and he was not sure if Tiroku might have held some contempt over it.

“You’re a little overdressed for the occasion, boys,” Rawner called out as the young two men approached the gathering.

Alamor did not immediately understand what Rawner meant before he glanced about. It was only then that Alamor noticed that the King’s Fangs—as well as Rawner and Tiroku—were not wearing their armor, but only the leggings and tunics that they would have normally worn underneath.

“I can see that, now,” Alamor said.

“You’re just going to sink if you go in there with your armor on,” Rawner added. “You’d be trudging along the ocean floor the whole way rather than swimming.”

“I never even thought of that…” Alamor admitted, embarrassed by his blunder. He clearly was not thinking very straight that morning. He began to remove his armor, and Tridian also chose to take off his long, purple coat. “You’re not taking a weapon, either?” Alamor asked Rawner.

“Nah, my poleax will be far too heavy to swim with, and the way that I see it, no other weapon is any better for me than these big arms of mine,” Rawner answered as he flexed one of his enormous biceps. “I’d say you keep your sword with you, though. You should be able to swim with that just fine. The same for you and your lance, your Highness.”

As Alamor finished removing his last piece of mail, Hinton and Pauma came forward to him and Tridian. “Here, lads, let us take all of that for you,” Hinton offered. “Might as well give me the shield, too, Alamor. You won’t want that weighing you down.”

Alamor handed his shield, along with every piece of his armor, over to Hinton, while Pauma took Tridian’s coat. “You’re not coming with us?” Tridian asked.

“Not out of cowardice, I assure you,” Pauma answered. “It’s just that we Bachus aren’t so good at swimming. Probably more accurate to say that we can’t swim, at all.”

Hinton nodded. “Aye. We can dig, climb, roll, you name it, but throw us in the water and we swim as well as rocks do.” He tucked all of Alamor’s belongings under his arm and pointed over his shoulder with a thumb. “Besides, I was nosing around here on the island, and I think I found some whale oil that the Onda keep that can help me fix my busted blast orbs.”

“Which means that while you lot are down there freeing that big monster the Onda have been talking about, we’ll hopefully be concocting more devices to blast something with!” Pauma added excitedly.

Hinton’s wide grin showed that he shared his wife’s enthusiasm. “If only I had a couple more days to experiment with all of the wild materials and elements here on this island. Who knows, I might even be able to get the blast orbs to work underwater. You fellas would be able take them down with you to that cavern, then.”

“As useful as those may be,” Rawner broke in, “I think we’re in good enough shape for this little mission. I’ve got a feeling that whatever ploy Tiroku has come up with is all we need to bring the Onda’s guardian back with us.”

Not a moment after Rawner finished mentioning his name, Tiroku finished his conversation with Tsunari. He turned and began to wade through the crowd of Onda as he headed in Alamor’s and the others’ direction.

When Tiroku joined them, Alamor recognized the aura of calm that the Champion of Light carried with him. “Good to see that you two have finally joined us,” he greeted, his eyes falling upon Alamor and Tridian.

Alamor quickly dispelled his reservations about seeing Tiroku so shortly after their heated confrontation over the Radia of Gallantry. There was a peaceful, friendly demeanor over Tiroku, one that brought indescribable relief to Alamor’s worried mind.

“Did you sleep well last night, Alamor?” Tiroku asked.

“Well enough, just not anywhere near long enough,” Alamor replied, rolling his eyes with a brief sigh.

A subtle grin appeared within Tiroku’s white beard. “I’m sorry to hear, but you look fairly rested. I think you will be just fine going about this task today.”

As he finished, Sharq approached their group. While Alamor watched the Onda warrior shuffle across the beach, it was only then that he noticed a long, thick strand of kelp wrapped about each of Sharq’s ankles. Alamor looked to the other Onda scouts on the beach and noticed that they, too, wore the strands.

“Excuse me if I missed the answer while I was sleeping, but why do you all have kelp tied around your legs?” Alamor asked.

Sharq grinned. “So that this journey is as painless as possible for you humans,” the Onda answered. He lifted one leg and gestured to the kelp strand. “At best, you all would take days to swim to Waverock back and forth; at worst, you all would die of exhaustion. With this kelp, though, we Onda will tow you all the whole way.”

“Is the kelp what we’re supposed to hold on to?” Tridian asked, apparently not sure what to make of it, just as Alamor was.

Sharq looked down at his ankles along with Alamor and Rawner. The Onda seemed to have total confidence in the kelp strands as he answered. “Yep, once you get these wrapped about your hands, there won’t be a chance in the world that you get separated from us while we pull you along. This kelp is what we call tideweed. We’ve grown it for years here on the island in tide pools where the most runoff from the streams collect. All of those minerals in the water help make it as sturdy as a tree branch; you need to take a few sword strokes to it to just to cut through.” He glanced back at the other Onda, who had gone over to Tagran and the other King’s Fangs, and began to help them take hold of the tideweed. “If fact, why don’t you all come with me and we’ll show you the best way to tie them around your hands. I think everyone’s just about ready to leave.”

Alamor and the others followed Sharq across the beach. Rawner chuckled as they walked, a hint of embarrassment coming through in his expression. “I hope that tideweed—and you Onda—are as strong as you say. After all, I’m a bit heavier than everyone else around here.”

Sharq laughed, and patted Rawner on the arm. “Trust me, my friend, you’ll be no problem for us. If it makes you worry any less, know that I’ll have the two biggest and strongest Onda attached to you for the journey.

Alamor also laughed, but for a very different reason. “I think you’ll need closer to five,” he muttered, just loud enough for Sharq and Rawner to hear.

They joined the rest of their companions, and within a few minutes every one of them was properly attached to the Onda scouts who had been designated to guide them along on their way through the ocean.

Once all were secured, Sharq crossed the sandy beach until he stood within the rolling tide at the very front of the gathering. It did not take longer than a few moments before all eyes began to settle upon him. He eventually addressed his comrades. “Remember the plan, everyone—no one goes ahead of me. I’ll stay at the front and lead the way. Stay tightly packed together so that we frighten off most creatures. We don’t want anybody trailing off too far from the group. It’ll make you a ripe target for some hungry beast down in those waters, especially if the packs of Longjaws are still making their home inside Waverock like they did the last time Samuras wasn’t around.”

“What exactly is a Longjaw?” Rawner asked.

“It’s a very large predatory fish that prefers the depths of the ocean,” Sharq explained. “Each one is big enough to swallow a man—or Onda—whole. They have a pack mentality, and whenever Samuras is roaming for extended periods of time or resting here at Onda Reef, they take refuge inside Waverock. Since she’s been dormant for a while, we suspect the Longjaws may have returned there.”

Rawner grimaced. “Well, that’s definitely something to watch out for. You Onda will be able to keep us in the know if things get ugly underwater, right?”

Sharq nodded. “We Onda communicate underwater with soundwaves that only we can produce. The sounds we emit are our way of ‘speaking’ to each other, so to say. They can also bounce off of objects; this helps us understands our surroundings if we’re in a spot where we can’t see very well, and can tell us if there’s another creature in the distance. Our projections are much clearer than any other vocalizations in the water, and they spread farther, so our ears are always alert while we swim. You won’t be able to make any sense of our messages between one another, but if you keep an eye on us, we’ll make plenty of gestures to let you know what to do.”

Sharq lifted his gaze over the entire party. “If no one has any questions, we’re going to dive in.”

“May luck be with all of you,” Tsunari spoke aloud from behind them all, capturing each member’s attention. “We will be anxiously awaiting your safe return here while you’re gone.”

Sharq flashed a confident grin. “No need to worry. We’ll be back here in no time. And we won’t be alone.”

Tsunari smiled in return. She had no more to say, though, and merely lifted her free hand.

Alamor’s brow furrowed. He felt a pang of magic suddenly manifest around him, and as if in response to it, globs of water leapt from the tides. They inexplicably, deliberately, hovered through the air, settling just above the heads of everyone in Alamor’s party.

“What in the world…?” Alamor gasped.

“Stay calm, Alamor,” Tiroku urged, the Champion of Light standing perfectly straight. “Tsunari is using her magic known as Waveweaving. She will manipulate the water around us so that we can breathe while we’re swimming. That’s what Sharq and the other Onda used to bring us here safely the other night.”

Alamor’s widened eyes had not settled. The explanation sounded impossible.

With another gesture from Tsunari, the globs of water slowly began to descend toward the humans.

“Stay still, everyone,” Sharq called out. “You can’t be moving around much while Tsunari is commanding the spell. It may seem a little scary, but you’re in no danger.”

That’s easy to say for someone who practically has gills… Alamor thought to himself.

When the watery sphere was inches from his head, Alamor looked down and shut his eyes. He held his breath. He felt the water wet his hair and his face, but it did not feel as if he was submerged. In fact, it felt like he was surrounded by fresh air. The only water he could still feel was at the base of his neck.

He opened his eyes, amazed to see his view filled by water, but none of it was over his face. His head sat within an empty air bubble. He was able to breathe no differently than when he stood on dry land. Alamor turned his head and looked about; the water that Tsunari had placed over him moved with him, as if he wore a helmet. Tiroku, Rawner, and all of the other humans in his company had the same aqueous globes fitted to their heads. Although his sight was somewhat obscured, Alamor could see that most of his companions were just as astounded as he was.

“Tsunari’s spell is powerful enough that it should last you the entire time we’re swimming to and from Waverock,” Sharq announced. He raised his voice, as sound was somewhat distorted for Alamor within the watery globe. “Your hearing and your vision won’t be quite what it is in open air, but you’ll be able to speak, and we Onda will be able to hear you. If you have any concerns along the way, especially with the air bubbles that Tsunari has made, call out to us, and we Onda will be able to help. All of us who are going are Waveweavers, too. I promise that drowning will not be any fear for you whatsoever.”

With that, Sharq turned and leapt into the turquoise waves, propelling himself downward into the waters. One by one, the other Onda followed, with the respective human they were tied to by the tideweed right behind them. Eventually, the entire group had descended into the ocean and beyond anyone’s sight on the beach.

Alamor was still amazed at how effective Tsunari’s Waveweaving proved to be. He could not quite wrap his mind about the fact that he breathed effortlessly while venturing deeper and deeper within the water. It was a strange feeling to be totally submerged, enshrouded by the ocean’s touch, and yet be able to draw breath as if he stood out on dry land. He glanced around at his companions as he was pulled along by the Onda. Tiroku, Rawner, Tridian, and the King’s Fangs all seemed to be just as comfortable as they held onto their tideweed strands and let the Onda tow them through the depths.

It seemed to Alamor that time slowed beneath the surface of the ocean, where everything moved in a gentle, unhurried pace as it floated within the blue miasma. There was hardly any sound that traveled throughout the vast, watery realm, a serene hush that was only broken by Alamor’s breathing, and the occasional, faint droning of noise that echoed far and wide across the ocean from unknown sources, and from unknown distances.

Some rays of light managed to break through the ocean’s surface and cut through the blue canvas before them, filling the shallower waters with luminous curtains. The ocean depths were not altogether dark, but they were somewhat murky, particularly in the distance, where it looked like clouds of indigo engulfed the water.

That, above all things, made Alamor uneasy during the beginning of their journey. In time, the ocean floor came alive before Alamor and his company. Aquatic flora and marine creatures of all colors, sizes, and variety seemed to appear in mere moments, filling the once empty, blue void in all directions.

Thick stalks of kelp rose like trees, their green forms swaying rhythmically, as if dancing with the currents. Shorter strands of seaweed the color of garnet grew together in tightly packed patches, some groups so large that they looked like rolling fields. Clusters of vibrant coral and sparkling rock, much like what comprised Onda Reef, gave shelter to countless creatures that swam about peacefully and rested within the natural domains: fish, turtles, rays, eels, crustaceans, mollusks, cephalopods, and many more that Alamor did not recognize.

At first, he was nervous about passing through their territory, in the environment where land dwellers were at their mercy. But, as Sharq referenced earlier, few creatures would dare threaten them while they stayed together in such numbers.

It allowed them to take in the amazing sights without concern. They swam throughout the underwater ecosystem for much of the morning, seeing so many different lifeforms that Alamor eventually lost count of them. He was positive that there were plenty that he missed during the journey, either because they were hidden among the ocean floor’s kelp, coral, and rock formations, or because there were simply too many of them for his eyes to keep track of at once, even during the times where the group stopped to take a brief rest.

After roughly three hours, the ecosystem began to fade from their surroundings. The multitude of aquatic creatures dwindled, and the numerous varieties of kelp and other underwater flora thinned, gradually being overtaken by nothing but dark rock. Alamor was surprised, initially, until he noticed that the ocean floor was also beginning to rise as they pressed on further. It slowly climbed throughout the watery realm, running upward in a journey to the surface, where water and air met in their eternal divide.

The portion of the ocean floor that Alamor and his companions followed did not stop when it breached, but continued to ascend until it formed the island that the Onda called Waverock. It looked like the peak of a mountain jutted out from the waters, a towering mass of stone that sat ominously out in the open ocean. Unlike Onda Reef or the ocean floor they just swam through, there was little beauty in Waverock. There were no beaches of soft sand—only steep, jagged bluffs of sharp rock that the swells slammed against. There was little if any flat terrain upon the island, most of its surface running up in slick slopes to its pinnacle. It wore no vibrant coral or lush kelp. All it featured were pools of saltwater left behind by the waves, and loose stone that had managed to break free from the island’s imposing makeup.

Sharq had their party stop along its rocky shores so that the Onda could rest a final time before diving inside, as well as for Alamor and the other humans to detach themselves from the tideweed ropes. Several of the Onda were beginning to feel the effects of swimming several miles throughout the ocean, and Sharq emphasized that every last member of the company needed to have as much of their strength as possible while they swam within Waverock. Once they entered the island’s depths, there would be no returning to the surface and the open air until their mission to free Samuras was complete.

The sun’s position in the sky suggested that it was just past noon when Sharq had them submerged once again and ready to head inside. He guided the company along Waverock’s base beneath the waters, eventually bringing them to a massive chasm that served as the doorway to its inner depths.

As they swam into the deep cut along the island’s rocky base, shadows encroached around them. The blazing sun’s rays did not reach far enough to brighten the long tunnel that they swam through, leaving them to venture through inky black waters that grew darker with each stroke.

It was around this time that Alamor began to hear a distinct clicking sound all around him. The noise was the keenest that Alamor had heard since he was submerged that day, not at all distorted by the water or depth pressure. He was able to hear it as clearly as he would a sound in open air. It was like the cadence of ice chips raining onto a hard surface, a continuous string of strident pings that shot throughout Waverock’s depths.

Alamor eventually determined that it must have been coming from the Onda, and that it must have been the special soundwave that Sharq mentioned earlier. The unique biological mechanism intrigued Alamor when he first learned of it; now it amazed him. The soundwaves that the Onda released appeared to tell them just as much about their surroundings as if they could see straight through the dark depths. Based on how those soundwaves traveled, the Onda scouts were able to assess what direction they could take to safely swim through the shadowy tunnel. It was a remarkable feat of navigation, as Sharq and his fellow scouts examined the watery passage, all while coordinating Onda and human alike to swim in their protective formation.

The party eventually rounded a corner, and the darkness suddenly lifted. Shrouds of light fell through large crevices in the tunnel’s ceiling, their bright touch stretching to the sandy floor. The illumination revealed just how massive the tunnel was—it must have been nearly one hundred feet tall, and nearly twice that width. The long chasm was so big that the light that spilled in through the gaps high above could not fully brighten it, as shadows gathered in gloomy clouds along the further corners of the steep walls.

What the light did manage to reveal, however, was that Waverock’s inner depths were a stark contrast from its exterior. While on the outside, Waverock was a daunting, foreboding mass, on the inside it was beautiful and adorned by ancient features. The teal rock that made up the walls glistened, even where the sunlight did not touch its spangling surface, as if the rock and water had become one after coexisting for countless ages.

For much of the tunnel’s length, the walls were decorated by friezes that must have been sculpted hundreds of years ago. The renderings depicted the endless ocean, with a band of crashing waves running over the rock as far as the tunnel appeared to stretch. A litany of figures were carved above the swells, some representing islands or sailing vessels, but most serving to portray the ocean’s many creatures that called it home. There were carvings of octopi, whales, serpents, sharks, schools of fish, and fearsome reptilian monstrosities—likely Samuras and other leviathans of her nature.

As Alamor’s eyes washed over his stunning surroundings, he caught glimpses of those creatures hidden within the huge stalagmites that climbed from the tunnel’s sandy floor. Collections of bones lay trapped inside the enormous mineral deposits, the fossilized remains of primordial beasts who once skulked about Waverock’s depths. Alamor saw the remnants of fins, claws, tails, and skulls. In some cases, the bones amassed into a full skeleton to display the entire form of what antediluvian monster had perished beneath the island.

Alamor was so enthralled by the many ancient sights around him that he did not initially notice the huge, dark shape that raced past one of the lead Onda.

Sharq and the other Onda scouts came to an immediate halt. The pings of their internal soundwaves ceased, but silence did not descend upon the submerged tunnel. As Sharq began to make a number of hand gestures to direct the Onda into a new formation, he uttered a sound that was both fascinating and eerie to Alamor. Sharq’s throat vibrated, the veins bulging against his blue scales. He released a prolonged thrum that rang throughout the water. The sound pulsated with such intensity that it was as though he roared without having to open his mouth.

As the Onda scouts began to take up a circular formation, Sharq looked directly at the humans in their party. He brought both of his hands together repeatedly, slamming his open palms against one another. The gesture may have resembled applause, but Alamor and his companions recognized that Sharq’s actual intent was for them to huddle together.

Another dark form suddenly appeared as if it was simply hurled out of the cavern’s gloom. Alamor got a look at this one, enough to discern that it was a large creature, but no more than that. It sped through the water so fast that his eyes barely managed to follow as it blindsided one of Sharq’s scouts and captured the doomed Onda in its jaws. It never stopped moving, even as it clutched onto its quarry, swimming away just as quickly as it arrived.

Panic beginning to rise, Alamor glanced about. It seemed that a pack of the creatures who Sharq earlier referred to as Longjaws had beset their company. More than a dozen emerged from the shadows in the tunnel, some pouring out of crevices in the walls. They were huge fish who looked like they emerged from a nightmare. Each was larger than a horse, with corpulent heads that were as plump as the rest of their thick bodies. A bony ridge lined the center of their backs. Their scales were dark purple, and their wide fins, which looked like wings, were a lighter tint. Each beast’s lower jaw protruded far beyond the top, forming into the shape of a shovel—the perfect design to scoop up helpless prey.

Alamor reached for his sword and pulled it free from the sheath. Tiroku did likewise, while Tridian and the King’s Fangs also brandished their weapons. Rawner balled his hands into huge fists. The humans converged onto one another as tightly as they could, placing themselves back to back as they floated in place. Few of them looked away from the pack of Longjaws that circled their group like vultures. The predators’ hungry, red eyes glowed in the murky waters as they waited to strike.

Two finally broke away from the pack. They sped toward the party, fearlessly swimming head-on at the gathering despite being outnumbered so greatly.

Three Onda scouts intercepted the first, throwing themselves upon the monstrous fish and tearing into it with their spears. Sharq met the other on his own. Proving that the Onda were superior swimmers, and enhanced by what Alamor sensed was the aid of his Waveweaving ability, he deftly maneuvered to the side just moments before the Longjaw’s teeth reached him. As it rushed by, Sharq hurled himself onto the creature and drove his coral blades well past its purple scales. The Longjaw swam off in disarray, thrashing about as it tried to shake off Sharq.

Just before the rest of the Longjaws moved in, Alamor sensed another, far greater outpouring of Waveweaving. He felt it wash over his body, embracing him with its magical touch. At the same time, it seemed to form a thin, but impervious barrier between his skin and the water. He soon realized that some of the nearby Onda were the ones who summoned it. They directed the magic onto not just Alamor, but all of the other humans, as well.

Within seconds, Alamor felt the Waveweaving essence renounce the physical limitations that a terrestrial being experienced underwater. The water’s overwhelming resistance relaxed, and Alamor was able to move his limbs with greater ease than ever before. It was like he now floated in open air, with no element to hold him down. He kicked, flinging himself a foot or two forward. His movement was still unwieldy, but he and his fellow humans could now function almost as comfortably as one of the Onda underwater.

The Onda Waveweavers finished casting the spell just as the entire pack of Longjaws stormed toward them. Despite the company’s best effort to stay together, their formation fell apart, and a chaotic melee quickly ensued.

Alamor remained close to Tiroku, his eyes bouncing in all directions as the Longjaws continually drove through in search of a vulnerable target. One of the ravenous predators came within inches of Alamor’s leg as it swam just underneath him. Alamor swung his sword in a looping arc as the Longjaw passed by, but he only dealt a glancing over the bony ridge that ran across the creature’s back. He watched in horror as the same Longjaw struck an unsuspecting King’s Fang from behind, catching the man in its frightening jaws before swimming off.

He spotted another of the aquatic killers heading in his direction. Before it ever came near, however, Tridian blindsided the Longjaw and skewered it with his lance. As it writhed in agony, Rawner moved in and reared back with a balled-up fist. The man slammed home a crippling punch to the Longjaw’s forehead, and an audible crunch could be heard within the water. The predator’s entire body shuddered for a moment before it went limp.

Alamor could not marvel at Rawner’s strength for very long before he felt a tap on his shoulder. He spun around, startled, but was relieved to see that it was Tiroku. His relief vanished a moment later when he saw the Longjaw that Tiroku pointed to, a particularly large one that sped toward them. Alamor briefly considered a desperate attempt to evade the creature until he saw Tiroku assume a defensive stance. Trusting his mentor’s confidence, Alamor readied his blade and stared down the approaching Longjaw.

The two swordsmen kicked themselves forward at the precise moment, and their thrusts found their marks in the Longjaw’s head just before its teeth could reach them. By the time that its momentum subsided, the creature was inert and lifeless. Alamor and Tiroku pulled their blades free, and the Longjaw slowly sank into to the depths of the tunnel.

Alamor looked up and spotted Sharq again. The Onda had survived his first encounter unscathed, and was now combating another Longjaw on his own. His peerless swimming ability and Waveweaving kept him from the creature’s mutilating grasp, and after he struck it with several lightning-fast cuts from his coral blades, the Longjaw was finally vanquished.

Sharq did not bother to watch the slain predator fall away into the tunnel as he swam on. He thrummed aloud, waving frantically for everyone to move on further down the tunnel.

Alamor surveyed the chaos as he began to swim. Their party had succeeded in fending off most of the Longjaws; the only ones still about were being held back well outside the groups’ edge by several Onda scouts. Sharq propelled himself forward and began to lead the others deeper through the tunnel, gradually distancing the company from the few remaining Longjaws that lingered behind.

This time, Alamor paid no thought to the carvings in the walls or what fossilized skeletons were apparent in the stalagmites. He was certain that no one else did, either. He and his fellow humans swam as fast as they could, gliding through the water with ease. The Waveweaving spells tempered the resistance of the water on their bodies so much that most of them managed to keep pace with the Onda. Alamor and his companions were still not quite the Ondas’ equal, but their swimming abilities had been enhanced to be comparable, and that was a testament enough to the Waveweaving magic.

As they hastened deeper into Waverock, all that Alamor paid notice to was a faint tremor that occasionally flew throughout the walls and water around him. At first, it was almost indiscernible, nothing but a vague hum in the distance. It amplified with each interval, until it was impossible to ignore. The hum grew into a short, but powerful boom, and it began to sound more like the savage utterance of some unknown entity. The walls trembled for a brief instant every time the violent vibration returned, and the water itself roiled.

Several minutes went by. Their group traversed a sizable length of the twisting tunnel that took them deep into Waverock, and still none of them slowed their retreat. They only did so when their journey brought them into a massive, rounded cavern. It was easily the largest of any space that they had swam through, stretching hundreds of yards in all directions. The cavern looked as though a tower had been carved into Waverock’s core. It was taller than it was wide, its walls rising to a gaping portal which showed sunlight and the afternoon sky far above. At its pinnacle, its waters were bright, and likely warm from the sun’s rays, but near the bottom, they were cold, and there seemed to be a perpetual shadow seeped within.

An enormous pile of stone, gravel, and debris sat silently against the wall on the other side of the cavern. It looked no different than if a landslide from one of the Tower Mountains’ largest peaks had been dumped into the cavern, forming a sheer wall of rock that could trap any creature—even the Onda’s monstrous guardian.

Another tremor raced throughout the heart of Waverock. The giant heap of stone briefly shuddered, and the same faint, rumbling boom that Alamor and his companions heard before flew by them, this time louder, and more ominous.

Everyone in the company knew that Samuras was behind that landslide.

Tiroku produced his sword once more, and began to swim ahead. Sharq and some of his scouts started to follow, but Tiroku noticed them before they got too far. The Champion of Light spun around and threw his arm out in a commanding gesture. Sharq and the other Onda stopped, at once. Tiroku did not need words to order everyone to stay back.

The Champion of Light proceeded across the cavern alone. The others remained where they entered, just as he intended, every member of the party watching anxiously and with great anticipation to see what he would do in an attempt to bring Samuras from her tomb. As Tiroku neared the towering pile of stone, his sword lit up with a white radiance. The magical light shone through the gloomy waters like a star within the pitch black night sky.

Alamor was surprised to sense just how strong it was. Tiroku did not need to exert much of his Serenity to instill it into his weapon, and he was a good distance from their party already. But even as the Champion of Light swam further and further away, it remained one of the most intense energies that Alamor had ever encountered.

That intensity began to roar once Tiroku stopped in front of the landslide. He stood almost motionless in a meditative stance, both hands wrapped about his sword’s hilt as the blade became engulfed by a blinding light.

Alamor’s heart raced; Tiroku called upon an unthinkable amount of Serenity, as if the Champion of Light intended to expend every last fragment in his being.

At last, Tiroku plunged his blade into the wall of rock. A moment later, a wave of white magic sped out of the sword and surged throughout the landslide.

The entire wall exploded from the inside-out. Solid stone and loose rock shattered as Tiroku’s Serenity tore through it in an immense blast. He was sent flying backward alongside the incalculable debris. Alamor and his companions were spurred ahead by the harrowing sight, but they were met by a shockwave and a gigantic cloud of dust that brought them to a halt.

The island of Waverock shook as though an earthquake had struck its shores.

As soon as Alamor regained his composure, he sped through the haze that dispersed throughout much of the cavern. The smoke and dust from the explosion slowly began to thin. He did not even look to see if Rawner, Tridian, Sharq, or any of the others followed.

A thrumming cry from one of the Onda scouts rang out behind him.

Alamor only spared a fleeting glance over his shoulder. Several of the Longjaws had returned, and promptly began to encircle the group just as they had before. Their numbers were greater this time than their first attack, and Alamor noticed some of the predatory fish emerge from crevices within the cavern wall. They did not converge on the Onda or Alamor’s fellow humans, but instead raced to the other side of the cavern, their red eyes seemingly set on Tiroku.

Alamor pushed himself with all of the strength left in his limbs until he eventually came to Tiroku’s body. The Champion of Light still held onto his sword even as he floated through the water. Alamor took hold of him at once, finding that his air bubble was still wrapped about his head. Alamor was even more relieved to find that Tiroku was still conscious, albeit very weary from the incredible act of magic he had just performed.

But that relief was short-lived as soon as Alamor looked up and saw six Longjaws ahead of him. The vicious creatures stared hungrily at him and Tiroku, their maws agape and their teeth gleaming. Alamor tightened his grasp about his sword as the Longjaws began to approach.

A rumbling growl reverberated from behind the devastated wall of stone, once more. What little remained of the landslide shuddered, and Alamor saw a huge claw tear through a portion near the top.

The rest of the rock heap fell apart as a colossal shape stormed into the cavern. It plowed through the six Longjaws, striking the predators with such horrific impact that the Longjaws’ mangled bodies were thrown more than halfway across the cavern. When the massive form came to a halt, it sent a whelming wave racing over the rest of the cavern. Alamor held onto Tiroku as the wave hit them and tossed them throughout the water. Alamor felt his body spin and tumble backward, his vision a blur of bubbles and darkness.

When his and Tiroku’s bodies finally settled, he fought through the disorientation to straighten in the water and regain his senses. Thankfully, Tiroku’s air bubble once again stayed intact. Alamor looked behind them and saw that his companions were also thrown a fair distance across the cavern—the same for the remaining Longjaws, who now gathered at the very entrance to the cavern after being hurled away.

Out of the corner of his eye, Alamor noticed another Longjaw just a few feet from him. He was momentarily startled, but he quickly saw that the aquatic predator was no longer a threat. Its jaw hung uselessly, its fins were torn apart, and its crumpled body hung lifelessly in the water.

Alamor froze when he looked past the Longjaw at the monstrous figure before him.

Samuras had come to a halt no more than thirty yards from where he floated.

The Onda’s guardian was an absolutely titanic reptile. She was as large as the Balcryst had been. Cerulean scales coated her gargantuan form—a thick, stocky frame that made her appear even more massive than Garadev. Her long tail was club-like, and each of her powerful legs ended in a claw the size of a farmhouse. A mane of sponge-like frills wrapped about her neck. The frills were white in color, but blue streaks of mysterious energy pulsated within, their light slicing through the murky waters. Her head was bulky, the same for her snout, which housed fearsome jaws that could surely crush an armored galleon.

She aimed her thin eyes down at the two humans before her.

Alamor could not even blink. His mind registered no thoughts other than paralyzing awe and terror as he beheld the most incredible living creature he could have ever imagined.

Samuras eventually lifted her head and looked out across the cavern. Her face was wrought with fury at the sight of the Longjaw pack. Her jaws fell open, and she released a booming roar that shook the island all the way to its rocky shores.

Each Longjaw turned and made a panicked retreat back into the tunnel. They seemed intent to swim on until they passed far beyond Waverock’s depths, never again to return to Samuras’s chosen domain.

The Queen of the Ocean issued her edict, and the inferior creatures would never dare to defy her anger.

Samuras, too, left the cavern, but while the Longjaws swam into the tunnel, she darted toward the portal high above in the tower-like chasm. She raced to the pinnacle with unequaled speed, and although the opening was smaller than her monstrous form, it did not halt her advance.

* * * * *

Samuras burst through the portion of solid rock that her body did not fit through, shattering it without effort. Streams of water and stone soared skyward as she emerged from the island’s depths for the first time in many days.

She did not relish in the warm sunlight or clean ocean air that had been denied to her for so long. Samuras immediately sought the scent of the miserable creatures who had not only returned to her territory after she drove them away long ago, but had ambushed her and locked her away beneath Waverock.

When she finally detected Garadev’s presence in the distance, rage flickered within her eyes.

Samuras threw her head back and loosed a mighty roar that soared across the waters—a warning to Garadev and his brethren that the Queen of the Ocean had reawakened, and that she was coming for them.

10

While Alamor and the others ventured to Waverock, the day went about as normal at Onda Reef. Summer granted the ocean another warm, sunny afternoon, allowing the Onda who stayed behind to pass the hours outside. They went about their normal routines as if nothing was out of the ordinary, swimming through the streams and pools, harvesting natural materials, or merely laying about lazily in the sunlight.

Hinton and Pauma went about their own work to repair the blast orbs. While the explosive contraptions were still intact, most of the wicks were no longer flammable after being ruined by the salty ocean water. Luckily for the Bachus, the Onda harvested a resource that was ideal for bringing flame back to the wicks—whale oil. Hinton discovered it the day before when he happened across some of the torches that the Onda lit at night across the shores. The torches were the hollowed-out halves of enormous mussel shells, which the Onda then filled with whale oil.

The Onda did not actually hunt whales. They only made use of the creatures when they found those unfortunate enough to have beached themselves on various islands across the ocean. The oil pulled from a single whale’s blubbery hide was enough to fill Onda Reef’s stores for months, Tsunari explained. A small bowl provided more than enough for Hinton and Pauma to dip the wicks on each blast orbs into and get them soaked with the flammable fluid. Once dried, the wicks kept a flame just as well as they did before, and long enough to run down into each blast orb’s core and set off the ignidust power within.

“You’re going too fast for me, Paka!” Pauma shouted as she set aside the blast orb she had been cleaning. She tossed her husband a few of the casings that the damaged wicks were removed from. “I’m still trying to get the old fuses out of all these so you can replace them!”

Hinton chuckled as he took the explosive casings and began to insert the oiled wicks into their openings. “Sorry about that, darling. I don’t mean to overwork you, I’m just excited by this, is all!”

Pauma’s momentary frustration faded as a grin crossed her snout. “Well, I suppose I can’t blame you for that. This is a mighty neat find on your part, even if it was only by pure luck.”

“You call it ‘luck’, my gal, I call it ‘fate’! Yep, I deem that it was fate that dropped us on an island and with creatures that had the perfect possible thing for us to fix the blast orbs!” Hinton looked up to Tsunari, flashing the Onda leader a wide grin. “Never thought you’d see the day when whale oil would be used this way, eh?”

Tsunari shook her head as she smiled. “Not in all my years,” she agreed. “We Onda thought we had seen every possible use out of the many resources that the ocean provides us, but then you two Bachus come along and show us a creation that we never could have imagined.” She knelt down and took hold of a blast orb. She studied it curiously. “It still astounds me, though. How did you ever put together such an item?”

“Years of practice!” Hinton exclaimed. “That, plus a whole lot of materials that we Bachus are fortunate can only be found in the earth we built our caverns into. Still, I’m learning now that there’s even more I can do with these blast orbs if I use materials from other environments. Thanks to just how flammable this whale oil is, if I get the wicks real short enough, I may just be able to find a way to get these things to even go off underwater! No guarantee on that, since lighting stuff isn’t so easy underwater, but we’re one step closer to that idea coming alive!”

Normally ready at any moment to keep her husband’s wild imagination from growing too big, Pauma was just as excited as Hinton, this time. “Why, if you ever pull that off, you’ll have another spot in the history books for yourself, you crazy Paka! Too bad you couldn’t have had a little more time to experiment with these new wicks. Like you said, maybe you could have had these ready for our boys and the Onda to take with them on their way to that Waverock place!”

Hinton let out a sigh through his wide grin as he dipped his last blast orb’s wick into the whale oil. “I know what you mean there, my gal. These might have come in darn handy for them lot, but better to look on the bright side of things—at least I got to put these together in the first place, and hopefully they’ll get us out of another jam down the road.” He looked to Tsunari. “Besides, our boys and those scouts will certainly be able to take care of the job on their own, right?”

Tsunari smiled and nodded to him. “I’m certain of it,” she replied, handing the blast orb back to Hinton. “And I’m also certain that they’re going to be just as impressed by your ingenuity as I am.”

Hinton and Pauma were almost overwhelmed by the praise. “It’s nothing that special, I swear,” Hinton said as he waved a dismissive paw. “We’re just making do with the time we got on this island of yours. We Bachus aren’t much used to being surrounded by water on all sides.”

“Well, I would say that the two of you have settled in quite well,” Tsunari said. “I know it was unfortunate circumstances that brought you and your friends to Onda Reef, but I cannot express how grateful I am for it. Before your party arrived, no member of the other races had stepped foot here in my lifetime.”

Pauma’s eyes broadened. “Are we really the first folk you Onda have seen in so long?”

“At least on this island, yes,” Tsunari answered. “In the last few decades, we have only ever made contact with humans out in the ocean, either returning those who have fallen overboard back to their ships, or meeting with them upon their crafts. Even those instances have been far fewer in number than I would like. I regret to say that the Onda have grown reclusive in recent ages, so much so that my people have become content with keeping to the ocean and our own islands, rarely bothering with the rest of Tordale. I have tried to change that in my time as our leader, but my efforts were halted after Baldaron brought Garadev and his brothers back to prowl these waters.”

The Bachus nodded understandingly at Tsunari. “We know all about that,” Hinton began. “We Bachus back in Sleekleaf Forest decided a while ago that we would close ourselves off in our caverns and tunnels and never deal with the rest of Tordale anymore. Our own leader, Boss Blairo, was the one who decided that, but what he says goes with the Bachus, and the rest of us never had the mettle to stand up to him.”

Pauma took over as soon as Hinton finished. “So, at least you’re trying to make an attempt to mend some relations, Tsunari. No one can fault you or the Onda for that!”

The guilt and regret quickly evaporated from Tsunari’s face. Her appreciative smile soon returned to her. “That is very kind of you to say,” she told the Bachus. For a moment, her gaze drifted, and she appeared as if a wonderful vision came to her. “Once all of this is over, and peace has returned to Tordale, perhaps we can work to have both of our races reconnect with the rest of our world, including one another. If I can learn so much from just you two, I would love to see what all Onda could learn from all of the Bachus.”

Hinton and Pauma expressed their approval with bright smiles of their own. “No doubt about it!” Hinton said. “And if anyone can do that—”

His response was cut short when a rumbling cry passed over Onda Reef. It sounded as if the largest trumpet in all of Tordale blared a signal of war. Hinton, Pauma, Tsunari, and several nearby Onda fell silent as they exchanged confused, worried glances. A second, booming cry split the air again, and it was followed by a number of nervous shouts and hollers from the southern shore.

Tsunari and the Bachus hastened in that direction, anxious to learn what caused the commotion. Several Onda warriors joined them, and dozens more poured over the beaches and rocky outcroppings. There were just as many Onda who ran about in complete panic, some fleeing from the scene as if it was their only hope for survival.

When Tsunari and the Bachus came to the island’s southern edge, they understood why. Not half a mile off in the ocean, Rotour and Saphos surfaced from beneath the waves. Their long necks stretched high above the water, their ferocious eyes fixated upon Onda Reef as they advanced. Another half mile behind them was Garadev, uttering his strident roar as he followed his beastly brethren.

Tsunari acted before hysteria could overtake her people. Her calls rang out across the island, silencing all commotion and murmurs. She directed all Onda off the beaches and into the island’s core. The Onda seemed inspired by their leader’s poise, moving swiftly and calmly in the face of the approaching danger. It was not long before each and every one of them crowded into the island’s central hall and the surrounding halls. The warriors did not remain there, but instead gathered as many weapons as the armory held and hurried to the cliffs outside. They set up formations along Onda Reef’s mountainous core, setting down as low as the rocky crags just above the beaches, and as high as the caves, like where Alamor and his company had slept. By then Rotour and Saphos, advancing faster than Garadev, had already reached the beaches, and began to move onto the island.

When the monsters were close enough, the Onda commenced their desperate assault. They showered Garadev’s brethren with spears and stones flung from slings made out of kelp, showering the monsters with so many projectiles that it looked like a cloud of bone and rock descending to the beaches.

But all that struck the monsters merely bounced off their thick hides. Rotour and Saphos waded through the salvo and soon came to the lowest crags along the island. They sent their long necks swinging down at the Onda who had taken up position there, snapping up doomed warriors in their jaws and trampling others underfoot.

Most of the Onda began to retreat into the island’s inner chambers. Only a small group remained behind—the Waveweavers who had not ventured out with the humans to Waverock. With the tides crashing all around them, the Waveweavers took command of the waters nearby. They focused their magic to direct the water at the approaching monsters, expelling it in the form of furious jets. Their violent streams were so powerful that they tore away at boulders littering the shore before their aim found Rotour and Saphos.

The ocean beasts could not wade so easily through the Waveweaver’s attacks as they could through the spears and rocks. Although their armor-like scales withstood the water pressure, their advance slowed to a crawl. Rotour and Saphos roared in defiance as they fought doggedly to press on through the jets of water, each step a great struggle under the might of the Onda’s Waveweaving.

The ploy bought enough time for the other Onda to find refuge inside the depths of their island, but it could not stop Rotour and Saphos for good. Like any form of magic, the Waveweaving took its toll on the Ondas’ physical being, the strain taxing them until even their willpower could no longer allow them to maintain their spells. When their water jets were silenced, the Waveweavers also retreated, leaving Rotour and Saphos to begin pulling themselves up over the cliffs in pursuit of the remaining Onda above.

With no other opposition to the approaching creatures, Hinton and Pauma decided to see how effective the repaired blast orbs would prove. They took to the edge of a precipice high above the shores, and began to hurl the explosive inventions down at Rotour and Saphos. They threw so many and with such haste that they barely took the time with their tosses. Still, the Bachus were surprisingly accurate, striking the monsters with nearly every blast orb that flew from their paws. The blast orbs slowed the monsters’ advance, jarring their huge forms with explosions and bathing them in fire.

But Rotour and Saphos came on. They pressed through the Bachus’ barrage and began to pull themselves higher along the cliffs, slowly creeping up to where Hinton, Pauma, Tsunari, and many more Onda watched on. The ocean beasts were more than halfway up the slopes when Hinton and Pauma made a last-ditch effort to halt their advance.

Hinton filled his satchel with nearly half of his remaining blasts orbs, some fifteen in all, and tossed in a lit one among them. With Pauma lending her strength, the Bachus lifted the bag over their heads and cast it down toward the monsters.

Just as it hit Saphos square on the forehead, every blast orb inside the sack went off. The enormous explosion threw the azure monster off the cliffs and sent him crashing into Rotour. Both beasts tumbled down the slopes, hollering in fury as they crashed back onto the beaches.

The Bachus’ desperate plan succeeded in buying Onda Reef’s defenders some time, but it did little harm to the ocean beasts. Saphos and Rotour soon got back on all fours, Saphos the only one wearing any visible damage—a fresh wound above his left eye no bigger than a knight’s shield.

They quickly became the least of the Bachus’ and Ondas’ worries. Garadev at last stepped onto the beaches, and the leviathan wasted no time unleashing his terrible might upon Onda Reef. His great jaws fell open and spewed a beam of scalding water, the same that sliced the Balcryst in half. The nightmarish stream swept over almost the entire length of the island, ripping apart the slopes and shredding solid rock and coral. A number of unfortunate Onda were caught within its devastating reach, suffering a grisly end as they were either thrown from the force of the beam tearing into their surroundings, or as they were instantaneously scalded beyond recognition from the water’s frightening heat.

When Garadev’s beam dissipated, no one upon Onda Reef continued to challenge his and his brothers’ approach. With the Ondas’ defenses all but subdued, Garadev uttered a savage, dominant cry. He looked to his brothers, barking orders in their beastly tongue. Rotour and Saphos started forward, and Garadev followed. Ready to tear the entire island down until it lay beneath the waves, the three monsters marched upon Onda Reef, once more.

Until a thunderous roar flew from the ocean behind them.

* * * * *

Samuras burst through the ocean’s turquoise surface, sending geysers of water shooting into the air. She sped toward Onda Reef, moving faster and with greater power than any warship in the Tordalian navy. Her eyes glowed with hatred for the three malevolent foes ahead of her. Her lips curled into a snarl that contained merely of a hint of the fury she harbored for the beasts who trapped her beneath Waverock and dared to attack her domain.

Garadev leapt back into the waters and propelled himself forward, showing no hesitation to meet with the Onda’s guardian and prove himself the mightiest of the ocean’s monsters. He only did so now because he knew that Samuras did not yet possess her full strength. Being trapped beneath Waverock for so long and laying idle under that island had left her weakened. Her true might was only gradually returning to her.

But for Samuras, any amount of strength was enough to fuel her vengeance and her longing for battle. No matter the disadvantage, she would make Garadev pay.

The two behemoths came together in a collision that sounded like a thunderclap. Their impact nearly split the waters around them. They rolled over and under the surface of the ocean, locked together in a violent struggle that saw them rip away at one another with fang and claw. They ignored the blows that the other landed even as they tore into their armor-like hides, both behemoths fixated on inflicting the most crippling strike that they could muster.

Samuras raised one of her front legs and brought it down in a brutal arc. Her claw slammed onto Garadev’s head, smashing his jaws together and sending the vile beast plummeting beneath the waves. Samuras hastily followed after him, and they rejoined in battle, exchanging barrages as they sank to the ocean floor. In time, Samuras’s ferocious assault began to wear on Garadev, her crushing swipes slowly breaking his will.

Realizing that she gained the upper hand in their close quarters encounter, Garadev finally pushed away from Samuras and put his body’s superior reach to use. His long neck darted forward, and the serpentine giant sank his teeth into Samuras’s shoulder just beneath the mane of white frills.

Samuras’s agonized cry rang throughout the waters. Her fore claws worked frantically to get a hold of Garadev in an attempt to rip him off, but his lengthy neck kept the rest of his body just far away enough to avoid her grasp.

The Onda’s guardian soon gave up in the attempt, and employed another. She steadied herself for a moment before thrashing about so forcefully that she threw Garadev clear off. Even as the serpentine monster’s teeth shredded her hide while being removed, Samuras ignored the wounds and launched herself at her disoriented foe.

She slammed into Garadev’s flank with bone-crunching force, her head working like a battering ram as she pushed him across the ocean floor. Samuras finally slowed once she sent Garadev spilling into a huge rock formation. The towering monolith shattered as the leviathan smashed into it.

Samuras was ready to pounce onto her foe, but Garadev replied with a whip-like strike from his sinuous tail. It raked over Samuras’s face and nearly spun her around. Rather than press his advantage, however, Garadev sent himself shooting back to the surface of the ocean. When Samuras recovered, she promptly gave chase, ready to catch up to Garadev and continue their battle.

But as soon as she surfaced, Garadev unleashed his nightmarish beam of scalding water. It struck Samuras on her sponge-like mane and washed all across her body, searing her hide and momentarily paralyzing her with agony.

Garadev did not waste a second opportunity while she was incapacitated. He threw himself onto Samuras, striking out with both claws as he landed, and the duel between the two giants continued.

* * * * *

Far behind the clash between the two gargantuan monsters, another battle ensued. By the time that Rotour and Saphos were back on their feet and ready to resume their assault on Onda Reef, the brave warriors who ventured to Waverock emerged from the waters and poured onto the beaches. Sharq, his fellow Onda, Rawner, Tridian, and the Prince’s loyal King’s Fangs charged to meet the ocean beasts, using their numbers to encircle Rotour and Saphos and harry the beasts just enough to keep them from moving elsewhere.

Only Alamor and Tiroku did not join them. Tiroku was in no shape to do battle with either of the malicious creatures after summoning nearly every fiber of magic within his spirit to free Samuras. He was physically and emotionally drained, his body like an empty shell that had once contained his wise and powerful form.

He had been incapable of much movement since the journey to Waverock. As the Onda scouts swam hurriedly behind Samuras in their return to Onda Reef, Tiroku had barely enough strength to simply hold onto the tideweed and the additional Onda who offered to assist him. Even now, hours later, the Champion of Light was hardly able to walk, instead hobbling about with Alamor holding him up and helping him along.

They eventually stopped near a small tide pool far down the beaches on the eastern side of the island. Alamor gently set Tiroku down, letting him sit against a boulder. Tiroku’s face was drawn and devoid of any expression, his eyes clouded with exhaustion.

But still, Alamor sensed an unquenchable resolve resting within the man. It told him that Tiroku was not in any grave danger, and that Tiroku still dwelled on a very important subject.

“Leave me here, Alamor,” Tiroku told him, his hoarse voice almost a whisper.

“Will you be all right?” Alamor asked, even though he already knew the answer.

Tiroku returned an emphatic nod. “I will recover, eventually.” The Champion of Light then turned his eyes to their companions as they attempted to fend off Rotour and Saphos. “Your abilities are needed elsewhere at this moment.” He looked back at Alamor. His face gained life, hardening with fiery conviction. “You know what you must do to make sure those beasts are stopped.”

Alamor understood the charge. It was a charge that Tiroku had placed upon him more than once in his lifetime, one that had always terrified him.

But as he stood and looked back at the battle between the ocean beasts and his companions, Alamor cast away all uncertainty and all fear for his task.

He would unleash his Serenity—solely by his own command.

“I won’t fail this time,” Alamor said, and sped off down the beach.

As he ran, his sword’s steel blade began to pulsate with white light. Alamor could feel the symbol of Serenity blaze upon his forehead once again.

He watched the battle unfold further down the beaches. The warriors defending Onda Reef managed to separate Rotour and Saphos, drawing the two huge creatures away from one another so that they would not strike at any of their group in unison. Although the weapons they hurled at the monsters hardly grazed their hides, and most of their efforts were simply to distract them from joining Garadev or moving in upon the island, they courageously continued with the endeavor. Sharq and his fellow Onda had expended most of their magical reserves on their way back to Onda Reef, using their Waveweaving ability to propel themselves faster than their bodies, alone, could swim. Without the aid of aqueous constructs, they were forced to wield only their spears, swords, and bravery against Garadev’s breathren.

Eventually, Saphos seemed to grow bored with the Ondas’ and humans’ attacks. He turned and began to advance back to the cliffs that rose to Onda Reef’s central chambers, but not before Sharq and two other Onda scouts climbed to a tall rock formation and leapt onto Saphos’s back. Holding onto the azure beast’s spines, the three Onda relentlessly drove their coral blades into Saphos’s scales, scraping away at his armor-like hide and doing everything they could to keep him from moving ahead. Saphos tried to reach for them with his terrible jaws, but even his serpentine neck did not allow for him to rid the Onda that pestered him. With a sudden, violent buck, he threw Sharq and the other Onda clear off, and started up the cliffs.

Rotour remained on the beaches, where he was encircled by a number of Onda scouts, along with Tridian and the King’s Fangs. The vermilion monster was never stationary, turning in a new direction every instant. He made both ends of his body work tirelessly to claim an unfortunate victim, his jaws snapping forward and his tail swinging about wildly as his tiny foes continued to pester him with insignificant attacks.

His tail was too fast for a pair of Royal Guardsmen at one point, slashing at them before they could evade it in time. The whip-like appendage flung their crumpled bodies across the beach, one of them clipping Tridian over his shoulder and knocking him clear off of his feet.

Rotour immediately spun around and charged after the fallen Prince of Tordale, his eyes gleaming with devilish anticipation and his jaws falling open. Tridian might have been devoured, if not for Tagran. The veteran King’s Fang lobbed his spear and struck Rotour just beneath the eye, momentarily bringing the beast’s advance to a halt.

Before the vermilion giant could recover, Alamor finally joined the battle. He rushed Rotour and plunged his sword into the base of the monster’s throat, breaking through the red scales and scoring far below. The magical energy that radiated about the blade—his Serenity—burned away Rotour’s hide and seared his flesh underneath. The magic flowed over Rotour, a pulsating wave of white light that nearly toppled the monster.

Rotour’s long neck arched upward as he uttered an awful shriek, allowing Tridian an opportunity to avenge his slain soldiers. The Prince of Tordale aimed his lance and hurled it into the creature’s mouth, the entire head burying itself into the roof of Rotour’s great maw. The ocean beast’s neck swayed listlessly for a moment until his entire form crashed onto the beach and went still.

“Up here! Keep on coming!” a call rang out across the island.

Alamor, Tridian, and the Onda turned and looked back to where Saphos ascended the slopes. No more than thirty feet above the monster, Rawner stood at the edge of a precipice, staring down at Saphos and shouting more taunts. The big man had both of his hands wrapped about the shaft of his massive poleax. Alamor assumed that he went back into Onda Reef’s armory to retrieve it as his comrades held off their monstrous adversaries.

Rawner eventually leapt from his spot on the cliffs, falling toward the azure monster as he reared back with his poleax. By some miracle, his aiming and timing were perfect. He struck mere moments before Saphos could react, slamming his poleaxe’s bladed head straight into the open wound above the monster’s eye that had been created by Hinton’s blast orbs.

Saphos did not even cry out as he tumbled down the slopes. Rawner fell with him, holding onto the shaft on his poleax while the head still lay inside the beast’s skull. Saphos was already dead by the time he smashed back onto the beach.

Alamor, Tridian and every Onda hurried at once to the slain monster to see what had become of Rawner. To their shock and relief, they found the big man lying within the sands relatively unscathed.

They nearly began to celebrate, having defeated both Rotour and Saphos.

But a piercing roar interrupted any exultation. When they turned and looked back out to the ocean, they realized that the greatest threat still remained. The duel between Samuras and Garadev went on.

* * * * *

Both titans wore a number of dreadful wounds across their bodies, yet neither Samuras nor Garadev showed any regard for them. Their pace had not slowed, and their ferocity had not been tempered since they first came together in combat. If anything, it was even greater than before.

Samuras had endured the worst of the encounter, much of her back seared or raw after suffering the merciless touch from the scalding water that Garadev spewed. She proved far stronger than whatever her foe had harmed her with, still able to maintain her poise and match much of Garadev’s prowess, but Garadev had gained the edge in their battle ever since he unleashed his fiendish projectile. His attacks came faster, became more frequent, and he managed to evade many of Samuras’s strikes as he slowly wore down the Queen of the Ocean.

As Samuras committed a reckless change, Garadev easily glided out of the way and brought one of his fore claws down in a wicked arc. His claws effortlessly ripped through a portion of Samuras’s hide that had been burned by his water beam. The Onda’s guardian screamed in pain and immediately responded with a blind swipe that Garadev ducked under. The malevolent monster drove forward and leapt onto Samuras, tearing away at her as they fell beneath the waves.

Samuras eventually pulled free of Garadev’s vicious grasp. She straightened in the water, and when Garadev approached, she struck. She pivoted and swung her tail up from under her body, catching Garadev beneath the chin. The impact was so great that it knocked several teeth clear out of his maw. Garadev was dazed, nearly knocked unconscious. He was helpless to do anything as Samuras slammed into him and pressed her advantage.

They rolled about underwater, Samuras pummeling Garadev relentlessly with her claws. Garadev endured the savage battering until he eventually regained enough of his senses to counter. He wrapped his long neck around Samuras’s throat and closed his fearsome jaws onto her mane of white frills. Samuras tried to shake herself free, as she did before, but with Garadev constricting her like a taut coil, she found herself trapped. Garadev squeezed even tighter with his neck and jaws, intent for his death grip to be the end of his brutal encounter with the Onda’s guardian, once and for all.

Where any other creature would have perished in that inescapable hold, Samuras readied an attack that would turn the tide in her favor. Her most powerful energy had been regenerating throughout the battle, but after lying dormant beneath Waverock for so long, she knew that she had to be judicious with releasing it. Summoning it too soon could expend her reserves, and leave her without the ability at her command for the rest of the battle.

Now that it swelled to its full strength, and with Garadev right on top of her—so close that he would receive every measure of its fury—Samuras called to that unimaginable power. Her eyes became engulfed by a blue gleam, and her mane crackled with bolts of blue energy that looked like lightning. She became enshrouded by a cerulean glow as she roared and sent her energy pulsating throughout her entire body. The same energy shot into Garadev, burning him inside and out.

Garadev instantly released his grip as he loosed a horrible cry. The mysterious energy that coursed from Samuras’s mane flung him away violently, as if she had thrown him with her own claws. Garadev quickly shambled in the opposite direction of the empowered Samuras, groaning in agony as he retreated to the ocean surface. The Onda’s guardian sped after him, her body still glowing with cerulean light.

Before long, both monsters were out in open air again, and Garadev immediately turned back to Samuras. He spewed his beam of scalding water, striking Samuras atop her mane and burning her hide.

The Onda’s guardian screamed, but she did not slow her advance. She continued forward, swimming through the searing stream. It caused her unthinkable agony, but it was incapable of breaking the will to defeat her hated foe—a will that could only be comprehended by an indomitable force of nature like the Queen of the Ocean.

Samuras finally came to Garadev and clamped her immense jaws onto his throat. Garadev’s scalding water beam ceased at once. With Samuras holding onto him like a vise, Garadev thrashed about madly, trying desperately to free himself as he uttered a gurgled, frightened cry.

The glow about Samuras grew brighter and fiercer with each passing second.

* * * * *

Alamor and his comrades watched in awe from the beach, until Samuras unleashed an enormous burst of energy that was brighter than the sun. Every human, Onda, and Bachu on Onda Reef instantly shut their eyes and turned away from the incredible radiance that may have spanned the entire ocean. They felt an invisible force race over the waters and onto the island, knocking many of them off their feet. A booming, thunderous peal joined the powerful wave, as chilling and as mighty as one of Samuras’s cries.

Once they were certain that it had passed, they looked back to the ocean, their vision slowly returning after the tremendous light.

Samuras still held onto Garadev by the throat; only now, Garadev was almost unrecognizable. His limp, lifeless form had wisps of smoke rising from his charred hide, his once-emerald scales blackened and ruined.

The Queen of the Ocean released her vanquished foe, letting him fall beneath the water’s surface and sink to the depths, where he would lay for the rest of time.

As cerulean energy crackled over her body, Samuras reared back and bellowed a victorious roar that all of Tordale could hear.

11

Celebration did not come right away to Onda Reef following the battle against Garadev, Rotour, and Saphos. Before any kind of peace could truly be enjoyed, the bodies of all who had been slain—Onda and human alike—were gathered together. They were taken to a large pool near the northern edge of the island that the Onda called the Well of Eternity. The pool was exceptionally deep, said by the Onda to fall even deeper than the ocean floor. It was where all deceased Onda were laid, their bodies allowed to sink through the tranquil water to their final resting place.

All told, nearly thirty Onda, and two of the King’s Fangs were placed into the Well of Eternity as every other Onda, as well as Alamor and his companions, stood by to honor their comrades one final time.

There were other bodies to remove from the island—Rotour’s and Saphos’s. The ocean beasts were much too large and too heavy for any amount of the Onda or humans to move, their bodies like mountains of scale and flesh that would slowly rot underneath the sun. Tsunari communicated with Samuras to have the great behemoth cleanse the beaches by hauling the monsters’ carcasses into the ocean. Samuras dragged them out into the water before letting them drop to the bottom, where they would likely be devoured by the ocean’s many scavengers until nothing remained of them.

When Samuras returned to the island, she set her massive frame down onto one of the long, rocky outcroppings that ran far over the waters. The Onda gathered nearby and commenced a special ceremony to honor the Queen of the Ocean. Ten female Onda approached Samuras until they were no more than twenty yards from her, where they performed an elaborate and beautiful dance. It was said to represent the Onda’s indescribable gratitude to the leviathan for her protection. Behind the dancers, the rest of the Onda population gathered and genuflected to Samuras, silently offering the Queen of the Ocean their prayers and their thanks.

Samuras barely acknowledged the Onda’s exultation, only turning her huge eyes to look upon the tiny creatures a few times. When she did, she seemed indifferent to their numbers and their actions. Even still, the Onda went about the ceremony in total reverence, venerating the majestic monster well into the evening, until night began to draw over the ocean.

The next two days saw little activity across Onda Reef. Every Onda returned to their normal routines, while Alamor and the others spent the days resting and plotting out their journey to the Arid Reaches, where they would continue their quest for Ralu’s Radia, the Radia of Hope. Tsunari promised to assign a host of Onda scouts to help them travel across the ocean, and she also offered to speak with Samuras once again, in the hopes that the great monster would accompany their group to guard them along the way from any other threats that still may be lurking in the ocean.

On their fifth day since being rescued and brought to Onda Reef, Alamor and the others awoke early in the morning to set out for the Arid Reaches. The sun steadily lifted itself from the horizon as the humans, Bachus, and Onda gathered on the island’s southern beach and made their final preparations.

But Alamor did not join, at least not right away. As the others readied for their departure, he stood alone atop a tall rock formation on the opposite side of the island. Samuras lay further down the shore from him. Her gargantuan body almost did not fit on the outcropping that she rested upon, but she seemed perfectly comfortable. The great behemoth hardly shifted an inch on the slippery stone as waves crashed into the island’s shores and sent clouds of mist washing over her claws and underbelly. She kept her head tilted skyward, basking in the sun’s light that brought warmth to her cerulean scales.

It was strange for Alamor to see her so calm. Before, he had only witnessed her unbridled fury after she was freed from Waverock, and when she dueled to the death with Garadev, where she fought with a kind of ferocity that Alamor was certain no other living thing in Tordale could equal. Now, she appeared to be totally at peace, content to lay about Onda Reef lazily and enjoy the comforts that a halcyon summer day brought to the ocean.

But as Alamor watched her rest, when she appeared almost harmless, he was still in awe of the Onda’s titanic guardian.

He could not explain why. He had seen huge beasts before her—the Strife Wings, the Maldritch, Rotour, Saphos, Garadev—but none of them roused a sense of wonder in Alamor the way that Samuras did.

It was breathtaking simply to look at her, a creature the size of a battleship who was also stunning in appearance. Her scales glimmered like sapphires, and the glistening mane of white frills about her neck gave the look of an ornate adornment that only a powerful ruler would be worthy to wear. It was a feature that suited her title “Queen of the Ocean” perfectly. As she lay upon Onda Reef, a place that was like her own throne, where she was surrounded by the tiny creatures who exalted her, she certainly had the aura of royalty in the natural world.

And yet, Alamor felt that he saw her greatest beauty during the times when she unleashed her unimaginable wrath, where she was like a living, breathing disaster that could annihilate any foe in her path. He thought back to how terrified he was when he stood before her after she emerged from the rubble that had trapped her beneath Waverock, or even to her battle with Garadev, when he watched the awesome, unstoppable power that she used to slay her hated enemy.

Maybe it was not fear that dwelled within him, Alamor thought, but respect—respect for an incomparable creature that acted by no will other than her own, and whose might was beyond anything that the rest of the world could ever hope to match.

Eventually, Alamor heard someone approach. He never turned away from Samuras, but looked out of the corner of his eye to see Tsunari join him in his spot on the rock formation.

“You have watched Samuras for nearly an hour now, even while she has hardly moved,” the Onda leader said as she placed the end of her staff firmly on the ground. “You are amazed by her, aren’t you?”

“Very much,” Alamor answered matter-of-factly, his eyes still fixed on Samuras. With Tsunari there by his side, he decided to ask a question that had piqued his curiosity for the entire morning. “I’ve noticed that all of her wounds from the other day are already gone. It’s as if she never endured any damage from her battle with Garadev. How is it that she has healed so quickly?”

He looked over at Tsunari, and the Onda’s leader surprisingly offered a blissful shrug. “I am not sure, myself. The Onda have always just known that Samuras’s body repairs itself far faster than any other living creature. Perhaps it is somehow related to the energy stored in her body, but we can never be sure. It is merely another awesome power of hers that we will probably never understand.”

As Alamor accepted her answer, he began to dwell on just how many things about Samuras that he could not comprehend. “It astounds me,” he eventually admitted. “With her power, she could tread wherever she wanted. She could probably destroy any trace of civilization in Tordale and claim the entire kingdom as her territory, but instead she remains here to guard over the ocean and the rest of its inhabitants, and even live with you Onda. It almost seems that she doesn’t realize what she is capable of.”

Tsunari’s widening smile suggested that she was amused by Alamor’s thoughts. “I can assure you that Samuras knows better than anything else in the world what she is capable of. She is not ignorant of the domination she could have over Tordale, she is merely indifferent to it.” Tsunari paused, and several moments went by until Alamor noticed that she had set her eyes onto him, as if she waited for him to look at her before she would speak again. As soon as he turned to her, Tsunari continued. “You must understand that Samuras’s mind is not like yours or mine. She does not ask questions or seek answers; she acts purely based on what her instincts tell her. She has no desires other than to exist freely and to guard her domain.”

“And in doing so, she protects the Onda,” Alamor said.

“Yes, but she protects more than just my people,” Tsunari noted. “Whether it is within the oceans or upon the continent, she protects many creatures wherever she treads, so long as those creatures respect the very same world that she so fiercely defends.”

For a moment, Alamor thought back to the horrific night when Garadev attacked his company out in the ocean. He and his companions were helpless to stop the leviathan then, and even the Balcryst’s tremendous firepower failed to thwart him.

Samuras not only defeated Garadev, she slew him. She managed to kill the same monster that Alamor would have otherwise believed was invincible.

What other foes could she vanquish?

“Do you think that Samuras is the most powerful creature in our world?” Alamor asked.

Tsunari pondered the question for a few seconds before she responded. “It is possible. She is surely the mightiest that I have ever seen, but I also have not seen each and every living thing that calls our world home, so perhaps there is someone or something out there that is her superior.” She turned to Alamor. Her gentle eyes were strangely penetrating. “You ask me this because you want to know if she could defeat the man named Baldaron, am I right?”

Alamor was somewhat embarrassed that Tsunari had seen straight through his question. “Yes, I do,” he answered meekly.

Tsunari looked to Samuras once again. Her expression morphed into a stern gaze. “It is something I will not consider, because it will never be my or anyone’s choice other than Samuras’s whether she will challenge that man.” Tsunari’s words came in a deliberately dour tone. Alamor sensed that she intended for them to be a warning to him. “Samuras may be made of flesh and bone, but she is very much like a force of nature. No living thing beside herself has control over what she does; all that anyone can do is exist in such a way that they draw her respect instead of her wrath. I know almost nothing of the man named Baldaron who desires domination over Tordale, so it is impossible for me to judge if Samuras is mightier than he. She may one day seek him out and rid him from this world, or she may keep to our oceans, forever far away from him and the rest of his army. The answer to those questions is not for any of us to decide. Our only decisions can be what we place our hope in during this time of turmoil. The Onda and I have hope that Samuras will continue to protect this world, but we also must do our own part to ensure that peace one day returns to Tordale. We cannot expect Samuras to solve everything for us. That is why we also place hope in ourselves and the other peoples of this world.”

Alamor could not help but feel that she meant to admonish him for considering to trust in Samuras more than what he and his friends could accomplish. If that was truly Tsunari’s intention, then her words achieved the desired effect. Alamor was humbled after her cautionary explanation, enough so that he immediately cast aside any further thought of Samuras completing the task that he and his companions had taken up.

But he was also inspired by what she said. Tsunari had been the herald of wisdom and poise every time that he had seen her, acting as an anchor for her people even in the wake of an immense catastrophe. If she knew fear or doubt, she did not reveal them. She only continued to display inexorable faith that somehow, the kingdom of Tordale and its inhabitants would overcome the chaos that threatened them.

Faith.

The word suddenly echoed through Alamor’s mind. He recalled the conversation that he shared with Tiroku as they sailed down the Cabos River shortly after he claimed Xogun’s Radia, when the Champion of Light implored him to have faith in his aspirations. Although Tsunari did not utter the word, nor did she advise Alamor the same way that Tiroku did, he felt her message reach him just the same. If Baldaron was ever to be defeated, if the Legend of Light was to be fulfilled, it would require faith long before it required absolute power.

Alamor smiled as he felt a great understanding flow through his being. Faith had taken him this far—perhaps it was meant to take him even further.

“Tsunari,” he eventually said, his voice filled with such regard and graciousness that it drew her attention immediately. Once her eyes were upon him, he bowed. She may not have been royalty to the humans of Tordale, but in that moment, Alamor felt that she deserved to be honored like such. “Thank you for all that you have done to help my friends and I on our mission.”

Tsunari hardly acknowledged his show of reverence. Instead, she smiled as she waited for him to stand. Once he did, she bowed to him. “Thank you, young hero, for all that you and your friends have done for the Onda. Good luck in the rest of your journey. May the waves forever guide you to bountiful shores.”

When she straightened, they shared a silent moment where their eyes met and their tremendous respect for one another passed between them.

Tsunari then turned and left Alamor, heading in Samuras’s direction. She made her way across the beaches until she was near to the resting behemoth, where she then issued her request for the Queen of the Ocean to accompany Alamor and the others along their swim to the mainland.

Alamor watched as Tsunari communicated with the majestic titan. It was still odd for him to hear Tsunari utter the base, booming cries that she used to address Samuras, the secret language that only the Onda’s leaders were allowed to learn. Tsunari always spoke in such a gentle tone that it seemed impossible that she could ever release such undulating cries as what she loosed into the morning air to gain Samuras’s attention, and yet Alamor stood and listened for the second time as Tsunari’s throat produced the series of rumbling vocalizations that Samuras appeared to understand.

Samuras turned her eyes down at the lone Onda, eventually replying to Tsunari with a tilt of her head that vaguely resembled a nod, along with a single grunt that bubbled from within her throat. The great monster lifted herself off the rocky outcropping and strode into the waters, where she then began to make her way around the island until she was headed in the same direction that Alamor and the others would travel.

As she swam about, Alamor thought he saw one of Samuras’s huge, reptilian eyes turn to him for a brief moment.

Alamor eventually took hold of his possessions and stepped off the rocky hill. He made his way across the island until he arrived at the beach where his companions and their Onda escorts gathered for their departure. Along with Sharq, Alamor counted ten additional Onda scouts who would venture with them through the ocean.

A second group of Onda would escort Tagran and the remaining King’s Fangs to the islands where the other survivors from Tridian’s ships were said to have taken refuge. Rawner was speaking with Tagran as Alamor approached them.

“Make sure to give all of those boys and girls my best once you meet up with them,” Rawner said. “The same for whenever you get back to Geldiar.”

Tagran chuckled. “I’m sure that everyone at the Red Helm will be asking a lot about you. I’ll certainly let them all know what you’re up to. General Sagar will also be very glad to hear what you’ve accomplished.”

“Much appreciated, my friend,” Rawner said. His grin was wide, but his tone proved his sincerity. “I know Tiroku and the Prince probably said it enough by now, but it’s only right that I tell you myself how grateful I am that you took this task. There’s few better than you to go rally our troops.”

Tagran smiled. The veteran King’s Fang clearly appreciated the praise, but like any longtime soldier, he did not relish it so much as he did the personal gratification that came from helping his fellow comrades. “Thank you for that, old friend,” he replied. “I wish I could join the rest of you; I’d give anything to see the Princess found, and all of you obtain the other Radia. But the rest of our soldiers can’t be forgotten, either. I consider us blessed, in spite of all that’s happened. The way that I see it, we have the ideal people still around to complete both missions.” Tagran extended his hand, and Rawner immediately accepted it with a firm grip.

“Be careful out there,” Rawner said. “And don’t worry, we’ll watch out for the Prince just like you would.”

“I have no doubt that you will,” Tagran agreed. They released their handshake, and Tagran stepped away. “Best of luck to you all. I look forward to reuniting with you back in Geldiar, soon enough.”

The veteran King’s Fang turned and headed off to the other Royal Guardsmen who would accompany him. After they said their goodbyes to Tridian, the Onda Waveweavers had them ready to safely dive beneath the waves.

Once they disappeared into the ocean, Rawner turned to Alamor. “Glad you could finally join us,” Rawner remarked with a grin.

“At least I didn’t oversleep this time,” Alamor replied, well aware of his good friend’s harmless joke.

“What exactly were you up to all morning?”

Alamor stopped next to Rawner and set his armor and weapons on the sandy ground. A blithe smile came over his face. “I just needed a few things answered before we left this place for good.”

Rawner could see that Alamor preferred to keep the subject private, and he respected Alamor’s wishes by not prying any further. The man instead reached down and handed Alamor a large sack that was made up of some shimmering, grey material that Alamor did not recognize.

“Then load up your stuff so none of it is a rusted mess by the time we get back to the shore.”

“This definitely isn’t fabric or leather,” Alamor said, pointing out the obvious fact as he looked over the peculiar bag. “What is this?”

“Ray hide, they told us,” Rawner answered. “The Onda say that it’s waterproof, so it’s an extra layer of protection aside from that mussel secretion to keep all of our weapons and armor from rusting during the swim back home. The mussel secretion eventually wears away, apparently, and since we’ll be swimming much longer this time, the ray hide sacks are one more piece of insurance.”

Alamor placed his sword, shield, armor, as well as the pouch containing the Radia of Gallantry into the ray hide sack and tied it as tightly as he could at the top. When he finished, Sharq approached them.

“You’ll be amazed at how well those sacks keep out water,” Sharq said. “When you open them once we get you back to the continent, the insides will be bone dry. It’ll be as if we wrapped your weapons and armor with our Waveweaving.”

Rawner chuckled as he began to place his pieces of armor into one of the ray hide bags. “Good thing for that, too. We likely wouldn’t get very far once we landed back on Tordale if our weapons and armor were all brittle beyond use.”

Sharq looked back to admire the calm, scenic ocean for a moment. “And luckily for us, the weather has more than cooperated to keep the ocean at ease. This journey to the continent should be no trouble for us. I’ll be surprised if we so much as see a single cloud in the sky along the way.”

“About how long is this swim going to take us?” Rawner asked.

Sharq grinned. “We Onda may not be as fast as one of your battleships, but we’ll be able cover this distance in short time; it shouldn’t take us more than two days.” Alamor and Rawner briefly showed concern on their faces before Sharq clarified. “Don’t worry, we aren’t planning to swim straight through. There are several small islands along the way that we can stop at to rest and eat, and if by some chance a storm happens to roll in over us, we also know of a few reefs and atolls that can provide enough shelter for us.”

Rawner breathed a whistling sigh of relief. “I’m glad to hear all of that; for a second there, I thought you had planned to drag us across the ocean nonstop.” The big man indicated Alamor by nudging him with his elbow. “I think the kiddo here was just as worried.”

Alamor nodded his head in concession with a sheepish grin. “I’m not going to lie, I was.”

Sharq threw his head back and laughed. “Trust me, after all we’ve been through the last few days, none of us Onda have the energy to do that. We’ll just have enough to pull you all along as far as we’re heading.”

“And you boys and girls are doing the Waveweaving this time, as I understand it?” Rawner noted.

“That’s right,” Sharq said. “Even though it’s been a few days, I can assure you that Tsunari’s magic isn’t fully restored; that was probably the most people she’s ever used her Waveweaving on at once when we took you all to Waverock. Asking her to do that again, especially for as long of a swim as we have, isn’t safe for either her or all of you.”

Rawner laughed. “If it gets us back to the continent safe and sound, I’m not going to question whatever the method is.”

Sharq glanced further down the beach, where his Onda scouts and the rest of Alamor’s company were making final preparations. The Bachus and the humans were beginning to attach themselves to their Onda escorts with the tideweed ropes.

“Let’s go join our friends and get this journey under way, then,” Sharq said. Alamor and Rawner grabbed their ray hide sacks and followed. They were soon attached to an Onda scout, and standing to accept the air bubble that the same Onda summoned for them.

Once they were certain that their tideweeds were secure, that the air bubbles were conjured effectively, and that their bags were tied tightly to their waists, they began their march into the waters. Just before they dove under, they turned back to call goodbyes and wave to the Onda who watched them leave, including Tsunari, whose eyes showed a mixture of joy and sadness as the Onda’s brave, newfound allies departed from Onda Reef.

As soon as Alamor and his company were submerged, Sharq and the other Onda propelled themselves onward in the direction of the mainland. Even though the Onda had previously displayed their swimming prowess before, Alamor—and most of his companions, he assumed—was surprised by just how fast the amphibious beings darted through the water. Even while dragging the humans and the heavy equipment behind them, the Onda’s sleek, deceptively-powerful bodies glided within the ocean depths like a bird of prey in the sky. Alamor sensed only a small amount of Waveweaving magic coming from the Onda to help them swim, their natural strength and grace doing the brunt of the work.

For Alamor and his friends’ part, they made sure to maintain a firm grip about the tideweed constricting their palms. They were also keen to keep their bodies as flat as possible, just like Sharq and the Onda had advised them, since letting any part of their body fall would create resistance and slow the Onda down.

It was certainly an unconventional means of travel, something which Alamor would never have guessed in his life he would ever experience. But, just like during the swim to Waverock, it proved remarkably effective. Although the idea was something like a sled dog pulling his master through the snow-laden wilderness, Alamor felt more as if he was flying, soaring throughout the vast, blue miasma with solid ground far below him. While journeying to Waverock, the waters were relatively shallow compared to the rest of the ocean. As they made their way west toward the continent, the depth was dramatically greater. The ocean floor fell far beneath them, often lost entirely within the blue void.

They soon caught up to Samuras, who had chosen to make straight for the mainland after Tsunari requested her aid, rather than wait around for the Onda to join her. She swam at a far more reserved pace than what she was capable of, clearly in no great rush to reach their destination as she had been days earlier when she sped through the ocean to Onda Reef with incredible speed.

Her pace did not diminish her peerless strength. At one point early on in their journey, the ocean became engulfed by a kelp holdfast—an immense mass of seaweed that looked like a floating jungle. There was so much kelp, and so tightly clustered together, that Alamor, the Onda, and his friends would have had slowed to a halt at the risk of becoming trapped.

But Samuras cleared the way for them. Even while moving at what amounted to a peaceful glide, she tore through the fields. As she parted the holdfast with each stroke, it opened the way for the Onda to swim through accessible waters. At one point, her jaws fell open and she began to gobble up entire mouthfuls of the kelp. Each bite she took out of the holdfast seemed to contain enough kelp to fill one of the courtyards in Tordale Castle.

When the kelp forest was behind them, the ocean came alive with some of the same sights that Alamor and the others had seen in their journey to Waverock. He glanced about the sprawling surroundings to take in the unbelievable scenery. When he had first traversed the watery depths, he had been leery about journeying for miles underwater with only a magically-constructed air bubble as his protection from drowning. His mind had also been plagued by a number of thoughts during that trek to Waverock, namely the vivid memories of his conversation with Tiroku the night before about his Serenity and the Radia.

But now, Alamor’s mind was free of any disturbance. He was able to enjoy the amazing sights all around him, whether it was the mountains of rock that rose from the ocean floor, or the forests of tall kelp and other aquatic flora that brought living rainbows of color to the otherwise blue landscape. He spotted all sorts of ocean-dwelling creatures along the way, even more than he and his company passed by on their way to Waverock. None were as large or as stunning as Samuras, but Alamor found himself no less fascinated whenever they came into view, particularly such giants like the lumbering whales.

There were four of them that Alamor spotted in the distance, slowly advancing toward their party. Although the whales likely posed no threat, Samuras did not allow them to come any closer to the creatures who she had been asked to protect. She turned her head in their direction as a guttural grunt flew between her lips, rolling through the waters and reaching the whales. The huge creatures promptly turned and began to swim in another direction, showing no desire to challenge her warning.

Alamor watched them go, once again amazed by the commanding presence that Samuras had. She did not even need to utter an actual cry to frighten off four of the ocean’s largest inhabitants—merely a fleeting breath told them not to approach her underlings.

He only stopped watching the whales when he suddenly sensed a faint hint of Serenity.

Alamor immediately looked to Tiroku. The Champion of Light was as idle as anyone else in their group, and upon studying him for a few moments, Alamor realized that the magical presence could not possibly have come from him. It felt very distant, as if it hailed from an unseen corner of the kingdom. Alamor tried to focus on it with his mind and spirit, but no matter how close he ever thought he came to meeting it, the mysterious power remained elusive.

He could at least discern that it emanated from a very strong source. Whoever projected it was able to do so over a tremendously vast space; that feat, alone, required masterful control over it. But he also sensed that it was not from an act of strength, such as the means that Champions of Light like himself and Tiroku used their magic for. Whatever this Serenity was, it was not intended to fend off evil or overwhelm a foe. It seemed like its sole purpose was to search out and connect to something.

Or someone.

Alamor was not sure whether he eventually locked in on it, or that it locked in on him when he began to see images in his mind. The distant magic carried visions of an unfamiliar wilderness, one that appeared barren and unforgiving. In time, the visions cleared, and he understood that what he saw were images of the desert that he and his companions traveled to—the Arid Reaches.

Another image flashed in his mind. It showed Alamor the person who commanded the Serenity to reach far out across the land.

He recognized her immediately.

Raissa!

12

Elisstriss hurried over the sandstone hills with Ausmus and the rest of the Aesur soldiers ringed about her. She glanced over her shoulder once or twice while they ran. Night had fallen over the desert, making it difficult to discern most shapes beyond what was near her, but she could see several torches burning through the darkness.

They were still being pursued.

Three days earlier, Elisstriss had detected a distant, but immense outpouring of magic. Even though she had only experienced the powers of Airtamers in her life, she knew that what she sensed was the empyreal essence of a Spiritcaster. Believing that it could lead them to a valuable ally, who could possibly provide answers on the state of the surface world, Elisstriss guided her team of Aesur soldiers through the Tower Mountains into the region where the far-off source of magic seemed to originate from—the Arid Reaches.

They had traversed much of the Tower Mountains fairly quickly. With the many air currents that flowed throughout the twisting maze of rock spires, they were able to soar between the peaks, the plumage that covered their bodies acting as sails to carry them great distances in little time. When they came to the desert, however, their progress slowed dramatically. The barren wasteland did not offer the same air currents that could carry them for miles, and although Elisstriss had the ability to conjure winds of a similar nature, repeated efforts would drain her magic, and her life force, leaving she and her soldiers to spend nearly all their time in the desert marching by foot.

But the distant magic that she followed urged them onward, particularly a day earlier, when she had sensed it, again. This time, she saw a vision of who summoned the magic. It came as a brief, vague image of another person, a human, as far as Elisstriss could tell. The person was a young woman, seemingly Elisstriss’s age. She was beautiful, with green eyes that shone like emeralds, and long, thick locks of amber hair. Her clothing told Elisstriss the most about her—regal attire that was adorned with a panther surrounded by four diamonds.

Elisstriss had never seen this young woman before, but she had been told enough by Dayneth long ago to know that it was Princess Raissa Hokara who she perceived in the vision.

However, she now feared that she may never even reach the Princess of Tordale.

As night fell upon their third day marching through the desert, a great horde of bandits beset their group. They appeared swifter than the darkness that veiled the Arid Reaches, and in far greater numbers than what Elisstriss had in her party. They did not issue a warning or an announcement; they ambushed the Aesur without hesitation, ill-intentions painted over their malicious expressions. They were rough-looking men, dressed in dingy clothing and worn, mismatched armor. Each one was outfitted by an array of swords, daggers, and other deadly weapons. Some guided themselves through the night with torches, while others used the gloom to conceal themselves before attempting to catch the Aesur off guard with a surprise attack.

Ausmus and his soldiers expertly held off the first wave that threatened them. Despite being outnumbered nearly two-to-one, the Aesur proved that their years as Skyscape’s most elite warriors had forged them into combatants that were far superior to the reckless bandits. The Aesur took to battle formations without delay, unifying their fighting strength and granting them the protection of their fellow soldiers at their side. Their spears and bladed-talons, used in tandem with their unequaled deftness, proved insurmountable. The Aesur foiled the marauders’ attack before it seemed to even begin.

But where the first wave of bandits failed, more took their place. It quickly became evident that a sheer horde of ruthless outlaws set their sights on Elisstriss’s party, surrounding the chain of rocky hills. No matter how skilled the Aesur soldiers were, they could not face what amounted to a small army. Ausmus led Elisstriss and the soldiers onward, making sure that they hurried as quickly as possible while shielding the Highfeather’s youngest daughter from any danger.

On occasion during their retreat, a handful of bandits leapt out of the darkness at them. The men rarely posed a grave threat, being easily dispatched by the Aesur just like the other assailants. As their attacks continued, however, Elisstriss realized that her party’s advance slowed, allowing more of the bandit horde to close in on them.

The Aesur eventually came to the crest of a hill that overlooked the rest of the rocky chain, granting them a broad view of the desert beyond. As they neared the crest, Elisstriss saw that several bandits had already gotten there, and more were hurrying to join them. She pushed her way to the front of the Aesur soldiers and began to silently call to her innate magic, readying a mighty spell that would capture the marauders in a furious wind.

She never had the chance to unleash it, though. Just before she could, Ausmus and a few other soldiers dashed ahead of her and met with the bandits, themselves. Ausmus alone felled half of the ruthless men. His bladed talons struck them down with flurries that the bandits were helpless to defend against. The other Aesur soldiers disposed of the remaining foes with little trouble.

At a different time, Elisstriss may have been in awe of the soldiers’ prowess in battle, but she was frustrated that they threw themselves into danger when she could have handled it herself.

Ausmus apparently sensed it from her. He faced her as soon as the brief melee was over. “You should not have to waste your powers on lowly beings like these,” he said. Ausmus did not look at her long enough to even allow her a response. Instead, he turned his eyes to the oncoming swarms that continued to close in. He then looked to the horizon that ran away from the rocky hills. “But if you wish to use it, now would likely be a good time.”

Elisstriss knew exactly what he meant. She could settle her dispute with him later. Without a word, she began to summon her Airtaming ability, once more. Having already called to it before, it did not take very long before she was able to gather the necessary magic that she required for what she intended.

When she felt her magic peak, she directed it out of her physical form, sending it into the very air around the Aesur. As her magic and the air converged, she bent the desert air to her will, crafting it into a tremendous rush of wind that roared over the hills like a hurricane.

She and her fellow Aesur caught the monstrous gale with the plumage over their limbs. The desert floor dropped away from them, and they were lifted high into the night sky. Even as Elisstriss ceased her spell, the gale roared across the desert like a tidal wave from the most furious ocean, carrying the Aesur far away from their pursuers. Soon, Elisstriss could not spot the bandits’ torches burning in the night.

The monstrous air current took them a few miles over the desert, setting them down just beyond a vast canyon that ran from one edge of the horizon to the opposite. They ran on for a short while, if only to further widen the gap between themselves and the bandit horde.

They finally stopped when they came upon a rocky outcropping in the middle of the flat expanse, where they decided that they would make their camp for the night. As soon as they gathered at the heart of the outcropping, Elisstriss surveyed her companions. She counted the number of soldiers and was relieved to see that there were still twenty of them—no one had been lost in the ambush.

“Are all of you okay?” she asked, as they began to sit or recline over the rocks.

Ausmus glanced about their numbers, and answered for the soldiers. “Aside from a scrape or two, we seem to be fine. But what’s more important is that you’re unharmed.”

Ausmus’s reverence may have been entirely sincere, but Elisstriss was still somewhat vexed to hear him so casually dismiss his and soldiers’ own safety, simply because of her. “I’m fine; you should be more concerned for yourselves,” she said. “I didn’t have to fight off any of those men like all of you did.”

“That’s exactly how it should be,” Ausmus replied, total confidence in his voice. “We’re supposed to face dangers so that you don’t have to.” He paused and looked back at the rest of the soldiers, all of which were either tending to their weapons and armor, or reclining over the rocks. “Besides, wild men like those bandits are no match for a squad of elite Aesur soldiers. There was no reason for you to get involved and risk your well-being when we were hardly in any danger, ourselves.”

Elisstriss frowned. She knew that she would never convince Ausmus otherwise in an argument regarding his dedication to protecting her, so she simply let the matter end there. She turned from him and stepped a few yards away, where she took a seat on a lonely boulder. She set her eyes to the desert that stretched out before her, gazing into the dark, sandy realm that she and the soldiers had found themselves in.

It was not long before Ausmus followed her and stopped by her side. He, too, stared out into the darkness.

“I understand now why our ancestors were so desperate to escape this continent and flee to Skyscape,” he said, a hint of disdain in his tone. “We’ve only traveled the surface world for a few of days, and we already got a firsthand look at some of the savage things that live here.”

Unlike before, Elisstriss was more than willing to argue over this subject with Ausmus. “I think you judge the surface world too quickly,” she said, her voice unusually stern. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ausmus raise an eyebrow in surprise.

He looked away and shrugged. “Maybe it’s justified when it provides us such an inauspicious start. Since we’ve left Skyscape, the only living things we’ve seen are beasts in the mountains who probably wanted to devour us, and ruthless men who likely wanted to kill us and rob us of everything we have.”

“We’ve also seen barely a portion of the regions that make up Tordale,” Elisstriss said. “We haven’t even caught a glimpse of the countless other beings who call this world home.”

“If we could see as many treacherous things as we have in the short time we’ve been here, I see no reason why there won’t be far more throughout the rest of this land.”

“There probably are. This continent is a vast place. There are sure to be far worse things than what we’ve already encountered.”

“As evidenced by the destructive magic that brought us here in the first place.”

He was making a point in his favor, but Elisstriss still nodded. “That’s right, but in a world this large, there are also sure to be many who we can consider allies.” She aimed a firm gaze at Ausmus. “My sister must have felt the same way. That’s the only reason why she would have left our home to work among the living beings here. She wouldn’t have dedicated her life to a world that was without good people like ours.”

In a way, Elisstriss felt it was unfair to bring up Dayneth. She knew better than anyone the legendary status that her older sister had among the Aesur. To mention Dayneth’s name in an argument was to silence any rebuttals that the other person may have. Elisstriss did not even need to fully explain her reasoning. All she had to do was reference Dayneth, and there could be no rebuke from a fellow Aesur.

That was why Ausmus—despite the clear disagreement still in his eyes—fell silent and submitted to Elisstriss’s words. No matter how much more he may have wished to say, he was never going to utter anything that would suggest opposition to Dayneth and her mission to reconnect Skyscape with the rest of Tordale. He turned his rigid expression away from Elisstriss and looked to the murky horizon.

The strained silence between them lasted for only a few moments before Ausmus chose to speak up, once more.  “How close do you think we are to her?”

Elisstriss did not need him to elaborate; she knew that he referred to Princess Raissa, and the magical beacon that Elisstriss had detected throughout the last several days. “I can’t be certain what the distance is, but we’re definitely nearing her. This was easily the strongest signal that I’ve sensed thus far.”

“Were you able to see anything new, this time?”

“Not so much new, as it was…clearer. I was able to see the Hokara Princess again, but it was for longer, and the vision of her was as if she was standing right before me. I also got a clearer sense of why she was sending out that magical signal. It seemed desperate, as if she was trying her hardest to reach out to someone very far away.”

“Could you tell who it was she was trying to reach?”

“No, and even if we were right next to her, I doubt I would be able to sense that. What I could sense, though, was some of what she was feeling. It felt like there was a lot of concern and fondness in her magic; it seemed that, whoever she was trying to connect with, she had a very great love for them. I also sensed that she was projecting a great deal of her magical energy. Whoever she was reaching out to must also be a very powerful Spiritcaster.”

“So, it couldn’t have been your sister that she was trying to reach.”

Elisstriss nodded. “And that means that either Dayneth is with her right now, or…” She did not want to speak the alternative, and before she had to, she felt Ausmus gently lay his hand on her shoulder.

“Or, nothing. Your sister must be with the Princess, then, and we should all look forward to seeing her, again.” He said no more than that before he stepped away from Elisstriss and went back to join the other soldiers, leaving her to be alone.

At that moment, Elisstriss appreciated the solitude. As she let her eyes settle onto the empty horizon, she admitted that there was at least one thing that she agreed with Ausmus on—this world was completely different from her own. Skyscape was a realm where the very tips of the Tower Mountains stood, surrounded by fields of ice, mist, and seas of clouds and fog. This desert that she and the Aesur soldiers found themselves in had shown them nothing but rock and sand thus far.

Although, she was still positive that there was much more to Tordale than what they had seen, just as Dayneth had believed.

Her older sister remained in the forefront of Elisstriss’s mind while she sat and ruminated over what the next few days may have in store for her. Even if Dayneth was safe and in Princess Raissa’s company, Elisstriss was consumed by anxiety at seeing her older sister for the first time in many years. After Queen Saruma Hokara died, Dayneth made it clear that she would no longer consider Skyscape her home, and that her dedication was to the surface world’s benefit. Elisstriss had only actually seen Dayneth a handful of times throughout her lifetime; she could not even remember some of Dayneth’s visits when she was very young.

Dayneth’s last return to Skyscape was years ago, when Elisstriss could barely be considered a young woman. Elisstriss had come to accept life without her older sister. She resigned herself to the fact that she may never see Dayneth again as the years went by without another visit.

Now, she was likely just a few days from reuniting with Dayneth, and under dire circumstances, no less. Elisstriss wondered what her fearless sister would think of her. Would Dayneth approve of Elisstriss’s actions as the sole daughter of the Highfeather in Skyscape? Would Elisstriss’s leadership and effort to preserve her people be comparable to Dayneth’s accomplishments?

Perhaps more than anything else, Elisstriss questioned how their lives could ever go back to normal after reuniting and working together to save both of the worlds that they had dedicated their lives to protecting.

Elisstriss quietly sighed. She was truly caught in a strange circumstance if she was more concerned about reuniting with her only sister than the dangers of bandit hordes or a harsh, merciless desert.

13

Raissa’s eyes slowly came open, but the jarring change in what they beheld quickly forced them shut. One moment, it had been total darkness, and the next, a fiery light invaded her view. The Princess of Tordale allowed her senses to return before she cautiously opened her eyes for a second time. The blinding light that hung high above her was large and intense enough to capture her entire field of view.

The air around her was rife with heat that was greater than the hottest summer day on the Plains of Oston. The soft ground beneath her was warm, as though heated by a roaring fire beneath. The soothing floor brought relief and comfort to her weary body. She lay beneath the overhang of a rocky hill that offered barely enough shade from the sun’s punishing light.

Raissa sat up, but not without struggle. It felt as if most of her energy had been drawn out of her, leaving her weak and exhausted, even after sleeping for what she assumed was the entire night.

She scanned her surroundings. Just like before, the earth was almost nothing but dunes of sand in all directions, only occasionally broken by mounds of dusty and gritty rock. Any trace of plant life was rare, and that which did somehow exist in the unforgiving desert was gnarled by its struggle to survive. Perhaps there was more plentiful flora in the distance, but Raissa could not see it. The horizon was a blurred, hazy curtain made by the sweltering heat and blinding rays of sunlight.

She began to stretch her arms, her bangles sliding down her wrists. Even after being thrown from a battleship and holding on for dear life in a tiny boat during a raging storm, her mother’s bangles had somehow refused to leave her body during all of the chaos.

Raissa groaned as she lifted her listless arms. The sound immediately attracted the attention of her two companions.

Dayneth and Joth turned and leapt from where they sat a few paces away, hurrying over to Raissa’s side.

“Are you all right, Princess?” Dayneth asked.

“I’ll be fine in just a little bit,” Raissa answered. She offered no other explanation than that. Silence followed her reply until Joth spoke up.

“Did it work?” he asked, a tinge of hesitation in his voice.

Raissa nodded. “I was able to reach Alamor with my spell. I couldn’t speak to him, but I saw where he was; he is still out in the ocean, heading toward the mainland. He also knows, now, that I’m alive and that we’re here in the Arid Reaches.”

Dayneth sat back, a look of awe in her eyes. “Your Serenity is truly astounding to allow you that feat.”

Raissa’s expression hardened with frustration as she averted her gaze. “I wish it allowed me to do more.”

“I may not know much about magic,” Joth expressed, “but I’d say if you had tried to do any more, you would have come close to killing yourself.”

Raissa’s frustration shifted to a new target. “I told you before, I’ll be all right. I’ll have all of my strength back very shortly.” As soon as she finished, she regretted snapping at Joth. Her narrow eyes relented, and she felt shame rise to her features.

Joth, however, grinned. He clearly was not the least bit offended by her tone or her words. He sat down just a pace from Raissa. “I don’t doubt you for a moment,” Joth said.

Dayneth also joined Raissa near her side. “Were you able to see if the others were with him?”

Raissa was glad that Dayneth changed the subject. “They all are. Tiroku, Rawner, Hinton, Pauma, as well as my brother.”

“You said that you saw them out in the ocean; are they on a boat?” Dayneth pressed.

“No, they are actually swimming this way.” The surprised reactions that Raissa saw from Dayneth and Joth prompted her to clarify. “Well, I mean, they weren’t actually swimming, themselves. There were these other creatures who swam, but they were pulling Alamor and the others the whole way. They were lizards, but they were the size of humans. They must have been the Onda. They also had a huge monster with them, like the size of the one who destroyed the Balcryst. This monster seemed to be guarding them, though, if that makes any sense.”

“I’ve heard stories in the past that the Onda revere a colossal beast who protects their kind, so I think your guess is correct,” Dayneth said. The Aesur woman straightened, her eyes becoming contemplative. “The Onda must be the reason why they survived that night our ship was attacked. There’s no other way that they could have made it through that storm without any kind of help.”

Raissa briefly thought back to that harrowing night. “Yes, we were lucky enough, as it is,” she murmured, thinking to herself more so than answering Dayneth. As her eyes drifted, Raissa noticed that Joth had crouched down in the sand, using a finger to inscribe something. “Joth, what are you doing?” Raissa asked.

The man did not answer her until he finished his sketch. “Come here and see.” He beckoned them with a wave of his hand.

Raissa and Dayneth shared a glance before they shifted over to where Joth was. Before him, a makeshift map of what looked like the Arid Reaches and the ocean was drawn into the sand.

“This is to give us an idea of everyone’s positions, and where everyone will be heading to get to the Sandstone Mausoleum,” Joth explained. He indicated a marking on the far right side of his crudely-drawn map. “This is a rough estimate of where Onda Reef would be in the ocean, since that is the primary domain for the Onda. I suspect that Alamor and the others are coming to the desert from there. This would mean that when they land here, they’ll just about have a straight trek west to the Sandstone Mausoleum.” He let his finger fall to a small marking near the bottom of his map. “If my guess is right, this is our present location. We’re actually not that far from the northern edge of Sleekleaf Forest, maybe a four day’s march. We’ve come deep enough into the desert that we just have to move north, now.”

“But if we know that the others are coming this way, why would we go to the Sandstone Mausoleum instead of trying to meet up with them?” Dayneth inquired.

“Because we’re closer to the Sandstone Mausoleum than we will be to them when they make landfall, and that’s even if we stop to rest at the Azure Sands Outpost, which would be along our way north,” Joth said. “Stopping there may lose us some time, but I think it would be invaluable for us to get a true night’s sleep, and most importantly, load up on supplies. The fact that we’ve made it almost five days in the desert is incredibly fortunate, maybe even a miracle.”

Dayneth’s breath was laced with fatigue. “You’re absolutely right about that,” she agreed.

Joth pursed his lips thoughtfully. “The only problem with that plan, however, is that we’d have to hope that the others can navigate the desert on their own. I don’t mean to boast, but I worry for their chances without me to guide them.”

“Leave that to me,” Raissa promptly declared, without looking at her companions.

Dayneth’s eyebrows perked with curiosity, and perhaps a hint of suspicion. “Would you like to explain how?”

“By doing the same thing I did before,” Raissa answered. “I’ll reach out to Alamor with my magic once we get to the Sandstone Mausoleum, and then he can follow that presence there. Only, this time, I’ll try to perform a more consistent spell so that I can link to him. It will also be easier for Alamor to follow if we stay in one place instead of constantly moving.”

Dayneth did not appear to be totally convinced by Raissa’s reasoning, but the Aesur woman also did not appear willing to argue. She sat back in a gesture of concession. “Very well. I just hope that it will not take us too long to get there.”

Joth remained much more optimistic. “The Sandstone Mausoleum is only a three day’s march from the Azure Sands Outpost, which I suspect we’ll come to tomorrow night, or the morning after.”

Raissa stood, still a little groggy, her legs not fully underneath her. “I won’t delay us any longer, in that case.”

“Nonsense, your Highness,” Joth replied. “You don’t need to hurry yourself if you’re still weary.”

“Trust me, if I sit much longer, I’ll get too comfortable,” Raissa said. “It’s better for me to get moving again.” She thought about what she said for a moment. “It’s better for all of us.”

Raissa received no protest from either Dayneth or Joth. Her two companions stood alongside her, gathered what few possessions they still had, and resumed their journey throughout the desert.

This was the fifth day now that they traveled the Arid Reaches after being separated from their comrades out in the ocean. They had miraculously escaped the wrath of the ocean beasts who laid waste to the Balcryst, Waveskimmer, and Bluetreader, somehow staying aboard their tiny lifeboat as the furious storm carried them far away from the chaos.

It was one of the longest nights of Raissa’s life. There was no hope of steering their helpless craft amid the torrid rain and towering waves that threatened to swallow them up every time the water rose from the ocean in a gigantic arm. All that they could do was hold on with every measure of strength in their limbs and pray that the enraged ocean would not consume them.

The morning finally brought them calm waters, as well as land in the distance. They paddled by hand for what felt like hours, eventually reaching the shoreline.

After expecting to land in the Arid Reaches, the coast was nothing like what Raissa expected it to be. Instead of a desert, they found themselves in the Gracereed Wetlands. Just beyond the soggy beach were verdant marshes stretching into the horizon. Three different rivers emptied their flows into the marshes, filling it with life-giving water. Tall shoots of bright green reeds rose from the watery floor, as numerous as the trees in Sleekleaf Forest. Exotic flowers blossomed throughout the marshes, their petals sporting beautiful colors that would make any painter envious.

There were several patches where thick bushes grew, and within their tangled forms often rested fruits that Raissa had never seen before. Joth collected several that he determined were safe to eat, but there were others that he did not dare to touch, explaining that they were highly toxic. He also gathered a few of the thickest reeds that he could find, the ones that the wetlands were named after. After plugging one end of the gracereeds and filling the tube-like stalks with water, he plugged the opposite ends to create makeshift canteens for their journey.

Although Raissa found the stalks somewhat laborious to carry as they marched deeper into the continent, she eventually understood why Joth prioritized them. As they moved further inland, she saw that the rivers which spilled into the Gracereed Wetlands did not extend to the heart of the desert. Their flows originated to the north, closer to the shores, as if making a taunting retreat from Raissa, Dayneth, and Joth.

They came across several other water sources during their first day or so after leaving the Gracereed Wetlands, but none were as bountiful as what they left behind them. Instead of gushing rivers and vast reservoirs, there were only trickling brooks and tiny springs. Thin streams crawled along the length of wide gullies in the earth, suggesting that their flows were once powerful in the time before that region was ravaged by Scourge. Empty pits dotted the forlorn land where ponds and lakes originally sat.

The land swiftly grew dry as they marched deeper into the continent, but it did not decay altogether. The meager, yet adamant water flows managed to bring some semblance of life to the rocky, dusty countryside. Fields of grass sprouted where the soil was soft and nourished, the shoots thick despite being browned by the oppressive sun. Other plants grew in defiance to the hot clime; vines, flowers, bushes, and even copses of trees. Most were gnarled by the sweltering temperatures, and many bore arrays of thorns and bramble, but their existence proved that life could indeed go on in the Arid Reaches. When Joth rang out certain shrubs or cracked open the stems of larger plants, it revealed pockets of moisture that the vegetation had stored away.

Raissa and her two companions survived on the edible, less-prickly plants that Joth foraged during the early stretch of their journey. Creatures native to the sweltering land appeared to do likewise. Raissa saw plenty of birds soaring through the sunlight and nesting in the rare trees that they passed by. Lizards, snakes, and other reptiles were often slinking about over the hot stones and through the grass. She even spotted large rodents on occasion, including hares and stoats. Survival may not have come easy in the scrubland, but its inhabitants offered many testaments that it was possible—far more than Raissa would have believed without witnessing them for herself.

Those signs of life dwindled after just a few days, as the land became nothing but desert all around them. Water sources of any variety vanished. Grass and other vegetation seemed to disintegrate within the scorching heat. The ground beneath Raissa’s feet—once dry, yet solid—withered away into coarse sand and broken gravel that was fried by the blistering sun.

To withstand the sun’s rays, Joth cut portions from his cloak for himself, Raissa, and Dayneth to use as shawls over their heads, which gave them cool shade and a shield against the searing light.

Raissa also chose to remove her long gloves when Joth advised against wearing any garments that were tight fitting. He explained that such clothing would not allow the skin to breath in the sultry air, which combined with any perspiration that gathered beneath them, could badly irritate or even infect the skin. Removing her gloves may have made Raissa’s arms and a portion of her shoulders bare, but she decided that it was better for them to deal with the sun’s rays than the alternative.

The grueling trek and inhospitable conditions were never Raissa’s primary concern, though, not the way that her missing companions were. Desperate to learn anything about their whereabouts, or if they were still alive, she began to make attempts at casting her magic far across the land to link to them.

Several of her first attempts brought no answers, merely images of barren land like the scorched desert and the dark ocean. This only made her desperation swell as the days passed and she continued to be unaware of what fate had befallen Alamor, Tridian, and the others. It forced her to increase her magical output, eventually making her exert so much of her Serenity that the act itself temporarily drained her of energy—physical and spiritual.

But even though her body succumbed to the pressure and sent her into a deep sleep after her most recent attempt, on their fourth day in the desert, her spell finally succeeded. She managed to make contact with her lost companions, although not in the way that she had expected. Whereas Raissa believed that Tiroku would be the one to sense her magical signal and accept it, he had proven incapable. It was Alamor who detected her Serenity, and briefly allowed her a connection between them. It was a testament to his rapid growth as a Spiritcaster.

Raissa’s fatigue made the march even more difficult during their fifth day. The water supply Joth created was nearly depleted, the same for the fruits that he gathered. The sweltering air seemed to grow hotter the further they walked, only retreating when the bitter-cold nights enveloped the land.

But the waning hours of the day brought another of the desert’s seemingly-endless hardships. A fierce wind picked up with the coming dusk, lifting loose sand from the desert floor as it raced across the region. The air became filled by a cloud of swirling sand, dust, and gravel—the desert’s own imitation of a blizzard. It quickly became impossible for Raissa and her companions to see more than a few yards in front of them. Joth urged her and Dayneth to wrap their makeshift shawls around their heads so that they covered as much of their faces as possible. Joth noted that it would not only protect their eyes and allow them some degree of vision, but it would also protect their mouth and other orifices, which could easily be choked by the blowing miasma of sediment.

Their march slowed dramatically as they found themselves caught in the middle of the sandstorm. The three companions strode less than an arm’s length from one another, fearful to stray too far apart and risk becoming lost within the desert squall. Even still, Joth routinely looked back, making sure that Raissa and Dayneth were near as he led them on.

If it had not been for the oncoming night, Raissa would have had almost no sense of time’s progression during their slog through the storm. The desert slowly darkened around them as the once blazing sun fell into the horizon, further obscuring what little vision they had. Their surroundings soon became an impenetrable screen of sand and shadow, with only the howling wind to remind them that they still walked somewhere upon Tordale.

They at last found shelter late that evening when they came upon a large, rocky hill that sat in the middle of the desert. A cave crawled into the heart of the mound, offering them a bare, roomy grotto to hide from the relentless sandstorm. Joth entered first to inspect it, so to make sure that no other wild creatures had already taken refugee inside. He found no dangerous predators, but there was one desert dweller that he removed—a large, insect-like creature he called a Gritback. It was as nearly as big as a housecat, with a brown exoskeleton that made it resemble a crab. It moved on six pointed legs, while a pair of curled appendages arced from its rear and ended in pincers.

Joth skewered the Gritback with his sabre, and tossed its carcass back outside, leaving the cave to just himself, Raissa, and Dayneth. After each of them shook off a considerable amount of sand that had amassed on their garments, Dayneth and Raissa sat down, while Joth turned and went back out into the desert. He claimed to have seen a copse of trees and bushes not far off that he could gather kindling from. The man had not spent a minute in their shelter before he stepped back outside and became lost to Raissa’s eyes within the violent screen of sand.

With nothing else that she could do, Raissa sat back and waited. Not a word passed between her and Dayneth as they rested. The only sounds that broke the cave’s silence came from the screeching wind that soared throughout the Arid Reaches. Even though it was the first time that they had the chance to rest following their arduous march that day, Raissa did not feel very much at ease with Joth still out somewhere within the storm. While Dayneth reclined against the wall and closed her eyes, Raissa kept her gaze solely on the cave entrance as she waited anxiously for Joth to return.

She was not sure how much time had passed before he finally did. It had felt like she waited hours before she finally saw him emerge from the sandstorm beyond the mouth of the cave, dragging a pair of bushes behind him. Joth eventually turned around and set the huge shrubs down, placing them so that they made a barrier between the cave and the outside.

“Those bushes will offer us some protection,” Joth said as he approached Raissa and Dayneth. “They’re covered in thorns, so they’ll hold back any beast that might happen to find this spot. At the very least, they’ll slow anything down long enough so that we can’t be caught off guard.” He took a seat and unwrapped a large piece of cloth that was tied to his waist, dropping a collection of branches and thick, dry grass onto the cave floor. He neatly packed them together into a circle and scrapped his sabre over a flat rock to get a small fire going. The cave had several shafts that ran up through the ceiling, opening at the top of the hill and allowing the fire’s smoke an escape to the open air, rather than to crowd the space inside.

Raissa was once again amazed by Joth’s extensive knowledge of the desert. Her face reddened a bit. “I have to admit, I got a little angry when you went back out there before. I just don’t want anything bad to happen to us while we’re out there, but I should have trusted you of all people.”

Joth grinned as he casually leaned against a large rock behind him. “Nonsense, it was crazy of me to head back into that storm,” he replied, clearly not wanting Raissa to feel guilty. He flashed her a wink. “But I appreciate you being so concerned for my safety.”

Raissa’s smile was more of an amused one as she regarded Joth’s gratitude with a nod. Once he had the blaze roaring, Joth unwrapped a second bundle of cloth, containing two plump, pink fruits he had taken from the Gracereed Wetlands—possibly the last two their company had in their possession. Raissa felt her stomach growl at the sight of them. Fruits that would have just been a suitable snack at Tordale Castle had grown to be as appetizing as a full-course dinner while she traveled this harsh region.

After Joth thoroughly cleaned his sabre, he cut apart the fruits. He skewered each piece on a thin branch and placed them above the fire. He had done this other times during their trek through the desert, explaining that fruits from the Gracereed Wetlands sometimes would attract tiny bugs to burrow inside of them for their sweet juices. It was always safest to roast them beforehand.

Raissa and Joth waited for a short while as tongues of flame lapped at the fruits’ round forms. Once they were browned, and even charred along the edges, Joth deemed that they were safe to consume and pulled from them from the fire. After they cooled, he offered pieces to Raissa and Dayneth.

Raissa bit into one, finding that the fruit was still warm, but that it also contained a fair amount of its delectable juice on the inside. She also found that thankfully no bugs or other minute creatures were inside.

A hush fell between her and her two companions as she ate. Joth and Dayneth seemed content to sit and eat their share of the fruits in relative quiet.

Raissa looked around her dwelling. All at once, it dawned on her how dramatically her journey for the Radia had changed. Before, she had been sailing the vast ocean aboard one of the mightiest warships in the Tordalian navy, surrounded by her most trusted allies and scores of brave soldiers. Now, she huddled inside of a dusty cave in the heart of the merciless desert, with only two members of her original party.

Raissa sighed, just quietly enough that Dayneth and Joth could not hear. The thoughts suddenly made Raissa feel worried, almost lost. She had not expected that this journey would be easy, or without tragedy, but she still could not shake the horror that sprang in her mind when she recalled that night out in the ocean when she was separated from her other friends, and when so many courageous men and women lost their lives.

The emptiness that she felt for the last few days grew just a little bit more as she thought about Alamor and Tridian. She missed them most of all.

Fate had been cruel to rip them away from her so shortly after reuniting with both. With Alamor, it felt as though they were finally solidifying the bond that they nearly lost after spending more than a year apart.

Then there was her brother, who she had worried about every day while he was out searching for answers to the attacks across Tordale, that they now knew were the diabolical actions of Baldaron. She had been overjoyed to see Tridian again, to have him by her side, just as he had always been throughout her life. In one night, he was gone again. So was Alamor. It was as if the universe played a callous joke on Raissa.

There was hope that she would eventually see Alamor and Tridian, but like anything else involved in their mission, it was not certain. As she explained to Dayneth and Joth, she had a means of connecting with Alamor through their respective Serenity. That provided hope. What roused the uncertainty was what she had not told her two companions earlier in the day.

If Raissa was to guide Alamor and the others to where she stood, it required more than merely her Serenity. It also required that Alamor’s Serenity was up to the task.

To forge a connection between two distant persons required that both possessed some measure of magic in the first place, even the person who was being sought after, as Alamor was. You could not link yourself with someone who did not harbor the same energies.

The act was not easy to accomplish, even if your target was nearby. When they were leagues across the continent, it was nearly impossible. Only Raissa’s tremendous Serenity allowed her such a feat. Tiroku’s magic was not great enough to perform the spell. Just the same, the Champion of Light was also not capable of sensing the magical conduit that Raissa had attempted to establish from her distant place—only Alamor, with his mighty, but unrefined Serenity had been.

Of course, the spell had been incredibly taxing on her whole being, physical and intangible, and this was what concerned her. With how far away Alamor was, it forced Raissa to exert a tremendous amount of Serenity in order to project her magic across the vast distance. This was to ensure that not only would it find Alamor, but also that he could realize it in the first place. As magic traveled, its aura became diluted. If Raissa did not project enough, Alamor might never be able to sense it, as had been the case during Raissa’s first few attempts to connect with his party.

The amount of Serenity which had been necessary to reach Alamor earlier in the day had greatly weakened her. She could not perform a spell of the same intensity many more times before it might drain her being of all energy and kill her, but she also could not leave Alamor and the rest of their companions to aimlessly wander the Arid Reaches.

That was Raissa’s quandary—she had to figure out a steady, manageable link that Alamor would be capable of detecting, and that would not gravely drain her of her life force. She and Alamor would need to cooperate their Serenity without even knowing it.

Raissa was fairly certain that she could succeed on her part, but could Alamor? Had he and his Serenity grown enough for him to accomplish this act?

She hoped, and trusted, that he would.

Raissa’s thoughts were broken when she heard a raspy growl somewhere nearby. She quickly looked up and spotted a pair of shapes standing at the cave entrance, just behind the wall of thorn bushes which Joth had set up. Raissa could not make out much detail on them, as they were concealed by the night’s murk, the swirling sands, and the branches. All that she could tell was that they were large hounds who stood on all fours, with a noticeable hunch in their backs.

Dayneth certainly heard them, too. The Aesur woman took hold of her bladed rings and rose to her feet. “Should we deal with them?” she asked aloud, never looking away from the menacing creatures.

“I’d rather we not get into a scuffle with anything that we don’t have to,” Joth answered. “Wait for just a few moments.”

Dayneth obeyed, and the three of them all watched as the hounds began to pace back and forth near the cave’s mouth.

One of the beasts eventually tried to press through the makeshift barrier, drawing back with a snarl as sharp thorns repelled it.

Still, it seemed to be enough indication for Joth that the creatures were not planning on leaving anytime soon. The man brandished his saber and a burning branch from the fire as he stood. “Stay back here,” he told Raissa and Dayneth. “The fire should scare them off.” He made his way to the cave entrance, and the beasts already started to backpedal even before he got to the wall of thorn bushes.

For a split second, Raissa got a clearer look at the creatures as Joth waved the flaming branch at them. They were ugly, wild things, with matted, ocher fur running across their gaunt bodies. Black eyes and yellow fangs gleamed in the fire’s light as the hounds barked defiantly at the flames that repulsed them.

Then, just like that, they fled beyond the torch’s glow, and they were merely dark, indistinct shapes once again within the murky night.

When they retreated into the sandstorm, far beyond sight, Joth turned and made his way back to the fire. He sat down and dropped his torch into the flames.

No one said anything. The three companions sat in silence as the fire crackled and the wind continued to howl outside the cave.

14

Joth and Dayneth were readying themselves to resume their trek when Raissa awoke the next morning. Most of their meager supplies were packed, and the fire long extinguished, leaving Raissa to do little more than lift herself from the cave’s floor before they ventured back out into the Arid Reaches.

Thankfully, the sandstorm from the night before was a distant memory. A much more tender breeze strolled through the desert that morning, and it carried no threat of the dust clouds that assailed them the previous day. Raissa actually found the breeze to be very welcome as it tempered the region’s balmy air. The mornings in the Arid Reaches were far more comfortable than the sweltering afternoons, but they were still hotter than the sunniest of summer days out on the Plains of Oston.

Although Joth had hoped to cover as much ground as possible while the heat was less of a burden, the sand found a new way to impede their progress. Like a fresh snowfall, it lay in a thick, dense carpet after the storm the night before, burying the region in its gritty, dusty reach. The sand was difficult to walk through in many parts of the desert while they marched that morning, their feet often sinking into its grip.

The terrain slowly rose beneath their footfalls as they progressed. It was not quite noon when the Arid Reaches’ floor broke the surface of the sand and began to rise into a long chain of ridges that ran like a spine of mountains across the desert. Joth considered navigating around the ridges, but with how far they spread over the desert in all directions, he surmised that it would take far longer than it would to simply traverse them.

As they made their way up the rising terrain, they soon learned that there was more than a steep climb that would test them. After the sandstorm the night before, the ridges were covered by a layer of loose sand that sat like a blanket of icy gravel. The sand turned the coarse surface of the ridge’s rock into a slippery hazard, like a glassy sheet that attempted to disrupt Raissa and her companions’ every step. Not only that, but the sand was deep enough in some spots that it disguised the numerous crevices and inclines over the ridges.

Raissa learned the danger of this when she stepped down where the sand hid a short slope from view. When her foot touched down on it, the loose sand fell away and nearly caused her to stumble down the slant.

She only avoided the fall because Joth reached out in time and took hold of her.  “Careful, your Highness,” the man said as he pulled Raissa up. “We haven’t come this far to have a silly little fall do you in.”

Raissa grinned. As always, Joth remained upbeat in the middle of their trying journey, and he seemed intent to spread his cheer to her and Dayneth. “I never thought sand could be so much trouble,” Raissa admitted as they resumed walking across the ridges.

“Neither did I,” Dayneth added. “It’s a much greater nuisance than just the way it gets in all of your clothes and hair.”

Raissa barely contained a giggle. “Or, for some, the way it gets in all of their feathers.”

Joth’s head fell back with a loud laugh. Even Dayneth could not refrain from chuckling at Raissa’s quip.

“It’s not the realm for everyone,” Joth said. “Much like the sand, the Arid Reaches is quite deceiving. Everyone has a general idea of what it’s like, but when you experience it firsthand, you quickly learn that there is much more to it than you could have ever imagined.”

Not a moment after he finished, Joth lost his footing and staggered. Raissa felt her heart drop for an instant as she and Dayneth instinctively leapt at Joth and captured him by the arms to keep him from falling. Once he had steadied himself, they all glanced down at where he had stepped. Following his footfall, the sand began to slide away, revealing a sharp incline on the ridge that it had managed to conceal. If he had taken another step, or if Raissa and Dayneth had not caught him in time, Joth would have tumbled down a steep slope that fell a considerable distance down the ridge.

He looked back at Raissa and Dayneth with a sheepish grin. “Perhaps I need to listen to my own advice a little better,” he said.

“Please do,” Dayneth advised, with only a faint smile as obvious concern joined her words. “Without you, we don’t stand a chance of making it another day across this desert, never mind all the way to the Sandstone Mausoleum.”

Joth did not seem to share the same worry that the Aesur woman did, despite just narrowly avoiding a precarious fall. He veered away from the slope and began to take them across a different path over the ridges, treading just slightly more cautiously than he did before. “Well, luckily for us, we’re not far from the Azure Sands Outpost,” Joth said. “Based on that sandstorm last night, I’d say we’ll probably arrive there sometime tomorrow afternoon.”

Although Raissa found some relief in hearing that they would finally come to a human settlement soon, she was more curious by how Joth claimed to know it. “How do you know that because of the sandstorm?” she asked.

“Sandstorms happen because of the air currents that move onto the continent from the ocean,” Joth explained. “As those air currents hit the heart of the Arid Reaches, where the land is at its absolute driest, that’s when they pick up all of the dust and dirt. The heart of the Arid Reaches is mostly flat country. It was once fertile fields that ran for as far as the eye could see. It’s ringed by areas like what we’re making our way through now, these chains of rocky hills and ridges. Before Scourge spread, that flat country was farmland, where the harvests were said to be the most bountiful in all of Tordale. These rockier regions couldn’t hold crops as well, but people mined them for stone and other metals. Much of Tordale’s iron supply once came from here. But after Scourge ravaged the land, not even those resources could escape its destruction. The stone became coarse and brittle, and the metals corroded by that terrible energy. It withered this whole region, until a simple breeze could lift away what gravel and dust remained.”

Joth paused, taking a moment to gaze far into the distance. “So, then, as the air currents from the ocean wanes the further it moves inland, and the terrain becomes more stable, that wall of sand like what we walked through dies down. Seeing as how there’s not even a sign of that sandstorm anymore, we must be getting closer to the outer rim of the Arid Reaches, where the Azure Sands Outpost lies. That sandstorm last night was probably just the tail end of something far worse.”

Raissa was shocked to hear Joth dismiss the severity of the squall that they had been caught in. “They can actually be worse than that?”

Joth glanced back at her and nodded. He appeared to withhold a smile. “A lot worse,” he confirmed. “The strongest storms have so much dust and sand in them that you can’t even see your own hand in front of you, and they usually last for an entire day, not just a few hours like the one last night did. If we had been overtaken by a storm at its absolute worst, we probably would not have survived the night.

“Have you ever had to travel through a storm that powerful?”

“Yes, but only once.” Joth bent his gaze upward. He seemed to have to recall more of the experience. “It was about twenty years ago, if I’m remembering it correctly. It was during a trek I took with a scouting party to map out some of the inner desert. Thankfully, we were dressed properly to keep from being blinded and suffocated by all of that blowing grit, and we were able to find shelter rather quickly. A good thing we did, too. If you don’t get out of those storms in time, it’s not uncommon that you end up being buried alive when it’s all over.” Joth let his eyes settle on the horizon, as if he peered longingly at something unseen in the distance. “Yes, I’m definitely glad that part of the desert is far behind us. I promise that once we get to the Azure Sands Outpost, we won’t have to worry about those sandstorms anymore. They rarely move into that region, and even when they do, they’re a lot easier to endure when you have a sturdy house to sit inside of.”

“How much further do you think we have until we arrive there?” Dayneth asked.

“It’s not very far now,” Joth answered. “After these ridges, it’ll be flat desert once again, so we’ll make better time. Even if we stop and rest for the night, we should come to the outpost tomorrow afternoon. We may even arrive earlier if—”

Joth suddenly went silent. He came to a complete halt at the top of a rise on the ridge. Just as Raissa and Dayneth joined him at the crest, the man threw his outstretched arm at them to keep them from proceeding any further.

“Don’t move,” Joth said in a hoarse whisper. He was totally still, his eyes focused on something ahead of them along the rock masses.

Apprehensive to speak, Raissa looked in the same direction that Joth did, hoping to spot whatever he already had.

She noticed the hulking beast immediately. It stood on all fours as it ambled across a flat overhang no more than a hundred yards off. It was longer than a warhorse, and its thickly muscled body was covered in copper red scales that looked like armor. A short, stocky tail flopped about as the creature sniffed the overhang’s sandy floor, searching for a scent. Its head resembled a bull’s, with a long snout and a big, flat forehead, but it sported two very unique features. A pair of indigo tusks protruded from behind its lower jaw, the boney weapons curving like scimitars as they ran past the length of its snout. Three bloated, tentacle-like appendages dangled from each side of its huge head.

“What is that thing?” Dayneth dared to ask, keeping her volume to a whisper just as Joth had.

“A Kaivu,” Joth answered, never taking his eyes off the beast. “They’re alpha predators, something I was hoping we wouldn’t stumble upon out here.” Joth let his hand slowly creep behind his back, where his fingers began to wrap about his saber’s hilt. “Back away slowly,” he urged. “Don’t make any sudden movements.”

Raissa and Dayneth heeded his command. They backpedaled cautiously, careful to be as quiet and as discreet as possible.

They took no more than five steps before the Kaivu lifted its head and looked up at them. Raissa felt her feet become pinned to the ground as the creature stared in their direction. Even with the distance between one another, Raissa still could see its snout twitch, and she thought she could hear a low, menacing growl that sounded like it came from the lowest depths of the beast’s throat.

The Kaivu lifted a clawed foot and placed it forward, beginning a slow, deliberate advance toward them.

Joth no longer whispered. “Run!”

Raissa did not require his urgent tone to be spurred onward. She turned and sped across the ridges back the same way that they came. Dayneth followed right behind her. Raissa knew that her sworn guardian could easily have passed her while they ran in a desperate escape, but Dayneth ran purposefully slow to act as a barrier between Raissa and the approaching predator.

Joth ran behind both of them, his saber and shield now drawn. He constantly looked over his shoulder while they ran, keeping a close eye on the Kaivu to gauge how close it came to overtaking them.

“Follow the same path that we took before!” Joth called out.

Raissa quickly spotted the tracks they had made in the sand from earlier and began to follow them. At first, she wondered the reasoning behind running along that exact path, but she soon found that it allowed her to move considerably faster than before. Their previous march had left plenty of deep footprints in the sand, and by running through those, their feet were not ensnared quite as much when they first traversed it. Not only that, but it also showed them a safe path that did not have any threat of hidden crevices or ledges that they could accidentally plummet over. Confident that she had solid ground beneath her feet, Raissa ran across the ridges as fast as her tired legs would let her.

She eventually spared a glance behind her, hoping that by some chance they had outrun the Kaivu and that it had given up.

A terrified gasp got caught in Raissa’s throat from what she actually saw. The Kaivu had already closed the distance between them, charging just ten yards or so behind Joth as it relentlessly pursued them. Despite its great size and girth, the beast moved like a cat, bounding over the sandy carpet and the rocky terrain with none of the difficulty that its intended quarry did.

Dayneth apparently doubted that they could escape it any longer. She stopped and drew her arm back as she clutched one of her bladed rings.

“Joth, duck!” she cried, not even waiting for the man to heed her words before she flung the glimmering weapon. Dayneth’s aim was true—even if Joth had not dipped his head in time, the bladed ring never would have struck him as it spun through the air and eventually scored along the Kaivu’s snout.

The beast bellowed a rage-filled growl as it stumbled and slowed for a few moments. But even as it nearly toppled, it still ran on, seemingly impervious to any pain that Dayneth’s bladed ring may have caused it.

Raissa seized the chance to gain more ground from the Kaivu, pushing her already sore and weary body to move even faster in her flight. She thought her legs might finally submit to the exertion before she spotted a deep crevice that ran into one of the walls of rock around them.

Joth evidently spotted it, too. “Into that cut!” he instructed, echoing the idea.

Raissa hurried into the gap, which could not have been more than a yard across—wide enough to contain a person, but too narrow for the Kaivu to follow them inside.

As soon as Raissa entered the crevice, she spun around to make sure that Dayneth and Joth joined her. The Aesur woman sped into the cut just moments later, while Joth was only a few strides behind.

But so was the Kaivu. It lunged after Joth just as the man dashed into the crevice. Even though he avoided the beast’s prodigious pounce as the Kaivu was blocked by the narrow walls, the tip on one of its tusks reached just far enough to lance into Joth’s backside. The man fell onto his stomach as if he been struck by a battering ram, bowled over even by a grazing blow from the powerful predator.

Raissa and Dayneth hurried to his side and helped him back to his feet, at the same time pulling him further away from the relentless Kaivu who still tried doggedly to pursue them into the cut.

“That was a close one,” Joth said alongside a sigh of relief. He seemed to hold back a shudder. He peered over his shoulder to where the Kaivu’s tusk pierced him. Merely the boney tip had been enough to lance through his chainmail and bore a shallow gash into his flesh. “If I had been running just a few strides slower, that probably would have been the end of me.”

“Does your wound need any attention?” Raissa asked.

“Not right now,” Joth answered. “It’s hardly bleeding. I wouldn’t mind cleaning it out at some point, but we have a more pressing concern at hand.” He lifted his eyes back to the Kaivu, who still tried in vain to follow them into the crevice.

“Can’t we just wait to see if it grows bored with us and leaves?” Dayneth offered.

Joth shook his head. “No, because that thing can wait us out for longer than we can stay cooped up in here. Besides that, we can’t give it too much time to catch its breath. Kaivu are fast, but their stamina isn’t the greatest. Our best hope of escaping this thing is to start running again until it tires itself out.” He positioned his rounded shield out in front of him as he began to carefully step toward the Kaivu, his curved saber tightly in hand.

Raissa looked at the Kaivu as it repeatedly snapped its jaws through the air in a futile attempt to claim one of them. For a moment, she noticed a shallow groove in its thick hide along the side of its head—the only semblance of damage that Dayneth had inflicted with her bladed ring.

“Joth, don’t!” Dayneth said. “You won’t be able to hurt it!”

“Not if I hit one of those tentacles on its head,” he assured matter-of-factly. “Its skin may be hard as rock, but those tentacles are soft. They’re used to store water, and their bases are pretty sensitive, sort of like a nerve point. If I hit that, it’ll forget all about us for a few seconds.”

Raissa stepped forward; she was already calling to her Serenity. “Let me help you with that,” she said. “I’ll blind it, first.”

Joth initially raised an eyebrow, but he quickly deduced Raissa’s plan. “You mean like Tiroku did to those Narogas under Sleekleaf Forest?”

“Exactly like that,” Raissa answered, her hand glowing with golden light. “My magical reserves aren’t at their greatest right now from all of the signals I’ve sent to Alamor, but I’ll have enough for one great burst. In a cramped space like this, it’ll seem even brighter. Make sure both of you close your eyes, because it could blind you, too. When I yell for you to open them then, Joth, that’s when you can strike.”

Joth and Dayneth obeyed. As Raissa cautiously inched closer to the persistent Kaivu, she lifted her hand and pointed it at the creature.

“Be ready to run,” Joth warned.

With the Kaivu staring directly at her glowing palm, Raissa expelled a bright flash of light. The flare swallowed up every inch of the crevice, showing no mercy to the Kaivu’s eyes. The desert beast uttered a hoarse, agonized cry as it was momentarily blinded, and it began to backpedal out of the crevice.

“Now, Joth!” Raissa yelled as the harsh light dissipated.

The man was already in motion before he opened his eyes. Joth’s curved saber flew ahead and stabbed deep into the base of a tentacle appendage. Raissa felt her bones rattle as the Kaivu let out a piercing shriek. It ambled back onto the ridge, almost collapsing more than once. It began to shamble about madly, wobbling with each step as it shook its head in a desperate attempt to rid itself of the awful pain and discomfort that Raissa’s and Joth’s attacks brought to it.

Joth exited the crevice first, but he stopped to let Raissa and Dayneth hurry on ahead of him. They ran in the same direction as they had earlier, before they encountered the Kaivu.

Their escape continued to test Raissa’s physical limits. The time they spent hiding in the crevice was not enough for her to rest her tired lungs and legs, and now their path took them uphill, making each stride more demanding than the last. Just as well, her magical burst of light had been a potent one, putting further strain on her innate energy.

Still, Raissa ran on, hopeful that the Kaivu’s stamina would eventually fail it, just as Joth suggested. She eventually looked back, where she saw the beast chasing after them once again. It had recomposed itself following Joth’s strike, and although its sight was distorted following Raissa’s spell, it seemed to pursue them through its acute senses of smell and sound. The Kaivu was a fair distance behind them, but Raissa knew that it would close the gap quickly, even when it was partially blinded. She pushed harder, determined not to let the desert predator end her quest on the ridges.

Then she saw Dayneth’s face twist in horror.

“Princess, look out!” Dayneth shouted.

Raissa heard a savage growl ahead of her. Another Kaivu pounced onto the ridge’s rocky floor no more than a few yards from her. Had Raissa kept running, the beast would have captured her in its vicious grip. Instinctively, she pointed her palm at the beast and summoned another flash of golden light, although the burst was nowhere near as intense as what she cast inside the crevice. Her spell startled the Kaivu, allowing her to back away safely as Dayneth rushed to her aid, but it did no more than that.

Dayneth brandished her remaining bladed ring as the Kaivu lashed out. The Aesur woman jumped away in time to evade most of its powerful swipe, but the Kaivu’s long nails scraped against her breastplate and knocked her flat. Dayneth was quickly back to her feet and threatened several slashes of her own—action that was just enough to hold this new Kaivu at bay for a few moments.

Raissa began to panic. A second of the desert’s fiercest predators had found them, and the one that they originally ran from was swiftly closing in on them. Her Serenity was too depleted to ward off the creatures any longer. She saw nowhere to run; to one side, the ridge rose up in a sheer wall of stone, and to the other side was a steep drop over the cliffs.

They were trapped.

But then, without any warning, the gentle breeze that had swept throughout the desert that day inexplicably became a roaring wind. It was joined by an unfamiliar energy which Raissa knew to be magic—a form that she had never encountered before now.

Raissa was almost thrown off her feet when the unheralded gale raced over the ridges, lifting sand into the air and tossing it about into a gritty miasma just like the sandstorm from the night before. She threw an arm over her eyes to protect them from the whirling clouds of dust and sediment, although she was baffled as to how the squall could come about so abruptly.

She briefly saw the shape of the Kaivu that Dayneth fended off amble about aimlessly, the creature clearly lost and disorientated within the storm. She heard what she thought were voices, calls being uttered within the screaming winds. Raissa saw other shapes emerge within the blowing sands. They were people who soared like birds as they came upon the ridges.

Before Raissa could try to discern any more about them, Dayneth came back to her side. “Hold on to me, Princess,” the Aesur woman said. “We have to leave, now.”

Raissa was hopelessly shocked and baffled by the situation, but the urgency in her guardian’s words told her not to waste time, and simply to obey. She wrapped her arms about Dayneth’s body, and a moment later, Dayneth leapt off the cliff.

Even if the air had not been filled by churning sand, Raissa would not have been able to keep her eyes open. She tightened her embrace about Dayneth even further as she felt the Aesur woman catch the powerful winds with her plumage and sail along their path. Raissa clung to her guardian’s torso with every measure of strength in her arms while they glided in union with the mysterious gale. She refused to look down to see just how high her feet dangled above the ridge’s rocky tips far below.

Not long after, Raissa felt the storm begin to dissipate. The mighty winds slowed their advance over the Arid Reaches, and the air started to be freed of the choking dust and sand. When Raissa eventually opened her eyes, it was as if Dayneth had flown completely beyond the storm’s reach; she now sailed over a calm and undisturbed desert.

The Aesur woman glided for just a short time more before alighting gently onto the Arid Reaches’ flat, sandy floor. At once, Raissa looked back to the ridges that were now nearly half a mile behind them. The chain of mountainous rock formations remained encapsulated by an enormous cloud of sand and dirt, but even that appeared to be receding.

“Dayneth…what happened?” Raissa asked, unable to take her eyes off the fading haze, and just as much unable to wrap her mind about the strange occurrence.

“We were saved,” she heard Dayneth answer, a note of joy in her voice.

But by who? Raissa wondered, and before she could verbalize the question, she spotted several shapes appear within the settling dust cloud. They must have been the same ones she saw before, for they glided through the sandy cloud just as they did when she stood on the ridges.

Only now, these shapes were heading in her direction.

Soon, they emerged from the haze, soaring like birds through the sun-drenched air. Raissa noticed that Joth was with them, holding on to two of the flying beings by their belts as they carried him along in their graceful flight. While she was relieved to know that Joth escaped the ridges unharmed, Raissa committed little, if any, of her attention to the man as the flying beings finally landed just a few yards from her and Dayneth.

She counted at least twenty of them in all as her widened eyes scanned their group. Each one of them stood like humans, but had long, slender limbs that wore bands of glistening white feathers. Their skin was bright blue, and their features narrow, their faces resembling formidable birds of prey.

Almost all of them were dressed in glistening, silvery armor over their torsos, not so different from what Dayneth wore. The only one of them without it was a young woman, seemingly Raissa’s age. Her body was wrapped in teal robes that were closely fitted to her slight frame. Streaks of cerulean ran through her wavy, white hair that dangled far past her shoulders. Her face was narrow, like the rest of her company, but decidedly the most human-like of them all.

The young woman stepped toward Raissa, her smile glowing with admiration. “You must be Princess Raissa Hokara,” she declared in a soft voice, and bowed reverently. “It is a tremendous honor to finally meet you.” The rest of her group all bowed at once, and remained in their stances of respect even as the young woman stood and looked at Raissa once more. Her smile had not wavered. “I am Elisstriss; I have come to the surface world on behalf of the Aesur and all of Skyscape.”

15

Raissa gasped. “Elisstriss? Then you are…” She could not finish the thought with her words, and instead looked back at Dayneth, who smiled gently.

“These are my people, your Highness,” Dayneth confirmed. She indicated the one who had introduced herself as Elisstriss, waiting for Raissa to look to her before speaking once more. “This is my younger sister, daughter of the Highfeather.”

Elisstriss approached Dayneth slowly. As she came to Raissa’s sworn guardian, there was a pang of wonder in Elisstriss’s eyes. She seemed to marvel at her older sister. “It is great to finally see you after all these years,” she said in a meek tone, as if she was not worthy of standing there. She reached behind her back and produced one of Dayneth’s bladed rings—the one which Dayneth had thrown at the Kaivu earlier.

Dayneth smiled as she accepted her weapon. “And it is an honor for me to see you, Elisstriss,” she replied. “You have grown into a fine young woman; our people are in very good hands with you as the future Highfeather.”

Elisstriss’s smile remained after the praise that Dayneth bestowed upon her, but her joyous radiance fled from her features. “I appreciate your approval, sister, but I would not be here this moment if all was right with our people.”

“I assumed as much,” Dayneth said, her expression darkening. She seemed aware that the conversation would move to graver matters. “What has brought you to the surface world?”

Elisstriss turned her eyes northward, where the vague shapes of the Tower Mountains rose just above the horizon. “Our home is being threatened by a wicked force,” she answered. “The clouds which rise from Heaven’s Bay have been corrupted by a destructive energy, one that is gradually spreading in a terrible wave over Skyscape. It kills anyone that it touches, and it is impervious to anything that the Aesur have tried to stop it with.”

“Even the Airtamers’ magic has failed?” Dayneth asked.

Elisstriss nodded soberly. “When we left Skyscape, the clouds had become so large that no number of Airtamers could overwhelm them. Our magic has proven to be but a small hindrance. We have been able to break through it, but the dark force always reforms and continues its advance over our realm. Even my own magic could not stop it.”

As soon as Elisstriss finished, Raissa felt the realization strike her. “If you are an Airtamer, then you were the one who made that sandstorm on the ridges, aren’t you?” she asked.

“I am,” Elisstriss answered, turning to Raissa. “You sensed my magic, I assume?”

Raissa was somewhat taken aback by Elisstriss’s keen intuition. “Yes, I did. How could you know that?”

“Because I have been able to sense your magic in the last few days,” Elisstriss explained. “When we first fell from Skyscape, we set out through the Tower Mountains. We planned to travel to Heaven’s Bay, to perhaps learn why the rising clouds had been poisoned by dark magic, but then I was able to detect your power here in the desert. I believed that it was worthwhile for us to investigate.”

Raissa was amazed by what Elisstriss told them. Tiroku, the great Champion of Light, had been unable to sense her magical beacon, and yet Elisstriss—who was not even a Spiritcaster—perceived it accurately enough to discern their location in the vast Arid Reaches. “Your magical ability is astounding,” Raissa said, still trying to make sense of the extent of Elisstriss’s power.

Elisstriss appeared to take little pride in the adulation. “Even still, it has failed to vanquish what imperils my people. Mine does not compare to the magic that you harbor, Princess Raissa.”

Raissa’s jaw tightened. “Unfortunately, my magic is also not enough to protect my kingdom.” She paused, and briefly spared a dispirited glance at both Joth and Dayneth. “That is why you’ve found us here, wandering the desert.”

Elisstriss’s expression hardened. She already seemed to empathize with Raissa’s plight. “Then, the rest of Tordale is also in danger?”

“It is,” Raissa answered, her words grave. “A man named Baldaron has gained mastery over the ancient, destructive magic known as Scourge. A few weeks ago, he attacked our capital city and drove us out, but he will continue to move across the land until he has conquered all of Tordale. Based on what you tell me threatens Skyscape, I believe that he has directed Scourge to sweep over your home, as well. This has compelled my allies and I to seek out two sacred vessels known as the Radia. They are the most powerful source of Serenity in our world, which is the only power that can stop Scourge. With the Radia, we may stand a chance of striking down Baldaron.”

Elisstriss’s eyes widened. “It is exactly as described in the Legend of Light…”

“We are hoping that we can fulfill its words,” Raissa said. “But to do that, we first need to reach the Spirit Shrine in Skyscape so that we can travel to the Hallowed Plane to meet with Ralu and Xogun. We believe that they can help us better use the Radia to defeat our enemy.”

A shadow fell over Elisstriss’s face. She looked back at some of her fellow Aesur. When Raissa followed her gaze, she saw that each Aesur soldier was just as dour.

“I’m sorry, Princess,” Elisstriss began, “but the Spirit Shrine in Skyscape has already been overtaken by the waves of Scourge which suddenly appeared.”

Not even a breath managed to escape past Raissa’s lips.

Only Dayneth dared to speak as the rest of their company fell silent. “Then, for both of our worlds to be saved, it seems that our fates have been joined.”

* * * * *

Raissa spoke with Elisstriss and the Aesur soldiers for only a little while longer before they set out across the desert, now a unified party. She was more than glad to have Elisstriss and the Aesur by her side, as it offered immeasurable benefit to both parties. Not only would it ensure greater protection for all of them as they continued across the unforgiving Arid Reaches, but it also seemed that, at least to Elisstriss, Raissa and the Radia presented hope to destroy the advancing darkness that threatened to consume all of Skyscape.

Raissa could not entirely fathom what power she would need to remove Scourge from the Aesur kingdom, but the many unknowns did little to weigh on her spirits. She was grateful enough to have Elisstriss and the Aesur soldiers journeying alongside her.

As Joth led them through what he deemed to be the last leg of their march to the Azure Sands Outpost, Raissa and Elisstriss shared a number of stories and accounts with one another. Raissa spoke at length about the recent events that brought such chaos to the surface world—how Baldaron’s attack swept over the region and how she and her companions were forced to travel the continent in search of the Radia. She provided every detail of their journey up to that point, particularly about Alamor, Tridian, and the others, who they would hopefully reunite with, soon enough.

Elisstriss did not have as much to say about her journey. After descending to the continent floor along Wind’s Way, she and her soldiers made their way through the Tower Mountains, originally intent to reach Heaven’s Bay, until she detected Raissa’s magic and changed their course.

For her part, Elisstriss explained more about her magic that allowed her to manipulate the air around her. She explained that, unlike Raissa’s magic, it could not be used to supersede the physical laws and limits of their world, such as how Raissa called out to the others with her own magic, or how Tiroku and Alamor could infuse their weapons with Serenity.

Instead, Elisstriss’s magic needed to be fully joined with a physical property to be fully realized, and the air around her, already so vast and so malleable, proved to be the ideal component. By combining her magic with it, Elisstriss could alter and even create her own air flows of differing strength—from something as slight as a steady breeze that allowed her kind to glide, or as mighty as an unstoppable cyclone that could pull a tree straight out of the ground.

Elisstriss also told Raissa much about the Aesurs’ perception of the surface world since Raissa’s father and Dayneth began their initiative to bring greater unity between the races.

As Elisstriss spoke of the growing respect that her people held for the world and people below, it was only then that Raissa realized that Dayneth had not said a word to her younger sister since they resumed their trek. Raissa’s sworn guardian walked by herself that entire time, never offering her own thoughts to the conversation, and appearing to pay no mind to Elisstriss, at all. Just the same, Elisstriss never made an attempt to speak to Dayneth, either.

This puzzled Raissa; the two sisters had said only a few words to one another in their reunion, their first time seeing each other in many years, and yet they seemed perfectly content to stay distanced from each other. Although Raissa rarely heard Dayneth speak of her family, Raissa would have assumed that her guardian would be more joyous to see Elisstriss again. As it was, the reunion between the two appeared to be purely perfunctory.

Raissa finally relegated the curiosity to the back of her mind when Joth alerted their group to his sighting of the Azure Sands Outpost. It lay in the middle of the otherwise empty countryside, the only semblance of civilization for miles throughout the barren region.

As they approached it, Raissa was able to make out details of the isolated fort. A thick wall of brown stone encircled the settlement, its surface gritty and coarse, like sandstone. Clusters of palm trees rose about the exterior, some standing so high that they came just feet from the top of the walls.

Several buildings rose behind the walls. They were perfect cubes of smooth, ivory-colored stone, while their flat rooftops were made of wood. A number of vibrant pennants and banners hung from their sides, some displaying the royal family emblem of the sitting Plains Panther surrounded by four diamonds, and others only showcasing bright colors that were in stark contrast to anything else in the forlorn desert for many leagues.

As Raissa and the others neared the Azure Sands Outpost and the iron portcullis that served as the primary entrance, she saw several guards standing atop the ramparts. Like Joth, they all wore cloaks the color of sand, with chainmail underneath. Most of the lightweight armor was steel-grey, although a few of the guards were outfitted by brownish chainmail that looked like bronze.

Once Raissa’s group had been noticed, more soldiers appeared on the ramparts. They watched her party approach the wall with unmistakable apprehension on their faces, most likely due to their uncertainty of the Aesur, Raissa guessed.

But as soon as Joth waved to them and called out a greeting, that uncertainty disappeared. One by one, each guard’s face was split by a wide smile, and they replied with their own hollers to welcome their returning captain. It was like they had suddenly forgotten all about the unusual company that Joth shared.

“Great to see all of you boys and girls, again!” Joth shouted to them. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything important by dropping in at this time!”

“Even if you were, it wouldn’t matter to us, Captain!” one guard exclaimed with a laugh.

“Watching you stroll this way is the best sight we’ve seen in weeks!” another guard added.

“Well, I appreciate the hospitality more than ever, but do me a favor and get that gate open so we can finally step out of the sand,” Joth said, still as jolly as could be even while he issued orders. “And if you don’t mind, one of you go find Aydri and Maro for me; I can’t wait any longer to see the two of them.”

One sentry flashed Joth a salute and hurried down the rampart as he answered. “I’ll get right on that, Captain! I’m pretty sure they’re out by one of the gardens. It won’t take me long to let them know!” The rest of the eager guards all rushed to the center of the wall, where they began drawing the huge levers that raised the portcullis.

As the door of long, iron spikes slowly lifted from the desert floor, Joth looked back at Raissa. “Aydri is my wife and Maro is my son. I think they’re both going to take quite a liking to you, your Highness.”

When the portcullis was fully raised, Joth led Raissa and the Aesur into the Azure Sands Outpost.

Raissa was surprised by what lay within. Outside of the walls was what felt like an ocean of sand, but there was very little of it sitting in the interior grounds. Rather, the Azure Sands Outpost’s dirt floor was sturdy beneath Raissa’s feet. The open grounds ran off for perhaps thirty yards from each wall, rivaling the length of the lawns out in front of Tordale Castle.

Although the grounds here were not even remotely as lush, they sported more flora than Raissa expected from a settlement in the middle of the desert. Patches of short grass occasionally sprung from the dirt. Sizable bushes dotted the grounds with some regularity. There were more of the tall palm trees standing inside the Parched Outpost. Huge, bright green leaves dangled from their crowns.

Raissa and the others crossed the lawns and started on a pathway that was carved out of white stone. It took them to the built-up center of the Azure Sands Outpost, where the houses and other buildings were tightly packed together. Their alleyways were so narrow that it seemed only a single person could fit through them at a time.

Eventually, even the streets offered less space to move, but that was because of the numerous stalls and tents that had been set up. Joining them in the road were several dozen other people, maybe as many as a hundred. While there were plenty of soldiers intermixed within the crowds, there were just as many—maybe more—women, children, elders, and other men whose occupation was clearly something other than a warrior. Raissa identified what she believed were merchants, artisans, and scribes walking the streets that afternoon.

She recognized those people whose lineages were tied to the region. The people who hailed from the Arid Reaches had the same rich, tawny complexion like Joth had; those people who migrated to the desert from the south, likely with the military, were only tanned by the sun’s rays. The crowds of people seemed to be an even mix of the two origins.

It was also easy for Raissa to discern who were the residents that called the Azure Sands Outpost home, and who were visitors. The visitors, unsurprisingly, continued to stare at her group with confusion and uncertainty in their eyes as they passed by. The normal residents initially did the same, but like the guards at the top of the walls, their expressions immediately lit up when they recognized Joth.

“Daddy!” a youthful voice rang out.

Joth stopped and looked in the direction where the cry came from. A young boy who seemed to be no older than six years old dashed through the crowd toward Joth, his tawny face beaming.

As Raissa watched him, she could not help but feel like she was looking at a little soldier of the Azure Sands Outpost. His short hair was black, closely cropped without a lock out of place. He even wore a cloak that was just like what Joth and the other soldiers donned, although his garments beneath were a simple tunic and leggings, not chainmail. Raissa realized right away that it could only be Joth’s son, Maro, when the two came together in an embrace.

Joth chuckled as he stood and held his son tightly. “Somehow, I think you’ve gotten bigger and stronger in the short time I’ve been gone!” He took the boy by his chin so that they looked at one another. “Have you looked after your mother, like I asked you to?”

“He has done more than a fine job of that,” a nearby voice answered for the boy. A woman made her way over to Joth and his son. She was beautiful, with rich, brown skin like that of all people who originated from the Arid Reaches. She was somewhere in her early forties, Raissa assumed. Her hair was just as black as Maro’s, and was tied into a long braid behind her neck. She wore a tight-fitting dress that was pale blue, with a maroon sash over her chest. The sash was marked by the royal family emblem in gold.

When the woman joined Joth by his side, she affectionately stroked Maro’s arm. It was evident to Raissa that this must have been Aydri, Joth’s wife. “He’s also done all of his chores, often without me even asking him to,” she said.

Joth’s warm expression showed that he was impressed with what he heard. “Is that true, Maro?”

Maro nodded proudly. “Yep! I promise!”

Joth smiled at the boy. “Well, it’s great to know that our home is in such capable hands when I’m not around.”

Aydri approached him and laid a loving hand on his shoulder. “It is still much better when it’s your hands, though,” she said, and gently kissed Joth on the cheek. “We’ve missed you quite a bit the last few weeks. Where have you been?”

Maro was excited, not upset, when he echoed his mother’s sentiment. “Yeah, daddy, what kind of adventure did you go on this time?”

Joth laughed. “The strangest one I’ve ever been on. I could keep you up for an entire night telling you the stories about where I’ve gone and what’s happened.”

“Be careful suggesting that,” Aydri interjected, failing to hide her grin as she looked at their son. “He’ll probably want you to actually do it.”

Maro’s eyes glowed up at his father. “Can you, daddy? Please?”

“We’ll make time for that, I promise,” Joth replied as he patted his son on the thigh, and then turned to yet another person who approached their group. This time is was a middle-aged man with a welcoming smile over his brown face. He was bald, and without even a fleck of facial hair to be found on his features. He was well-dressed, sporting a pristinely-white tunic that parted near his chest, and had golden buttons lodged into his collar and cuffs. His pants were charcoal-grey, and ran down to a pair of black shoes that appeared freshly polished.

Joth strode over to him and extended his hand. As the two men exchanged a firm handshake, Joth made another comment to his son. “But before I tell you any of my wild stories, Maro, I think Mayor Barlov deserves an explanation out of me.”

Raissa remembered Joth telling her about the mayor of the Azure Sands Outpost during one of their days marching across the desert. Although the Azure Sands Outpost’s primary purpose was a fort, it also contained a fair-sized town that was home to a number of people who had no role in the military. As Captain, Joth handled the military operations, while Mayor Barlov oversaw the domestic affairs.

Judging by the way they greeted one another, Raissa could see that Barlov and Joth had developed a very close friendship after their many years of managing the Azure Sands Outpost together. “You owe me no explanation at all, Captain,” Barlov said. “I am just glad to see you finally return to us safely.”

“How has everything been here since I left?” Joth asked.

“We have been well, I’m pleased to say,” Barlov answered. He looked away from Joth and surveyed the man’s many companions. “I see that you did not arrive alone, either.”

Joth chuckled. “Yes, I hope you don’t mind that I brought some company along with me.”

“I don’t mind in the least,” Barlov said, his gaze moving along the Aesur ranks. He was clearly amazed by their presence. “I just never would have expected this kind of company to ever step foot in our little town.”

Maro was also intrigued by the Aesur. “Yeah, daddy, who are all of those people?” the boy asked. “And why do they have such funny-colored skin?”

Joth nearly burst out laughing. He turned to look at the Aesur, his lips still quivering. He seemed relieved that none of them showed displeasure at Maro’s innocent remark; Dayneth and Elisstriss actually smiled in response. “They’re not funny looking at all, Maro, they’re just different from people like you and I,” Joth explained, managing a very earnest tone to get his message across. “They’re called the Aesur. They come from a land very high in the mountains called Skyscape, and they helped me escape from a couple of Kaivu that nearly got me on the ridges south of here.”

A few whispers emerged from the crowd of people nearby. Raissa glanced around at them, noticing that most if not all of the townsfolk appeared stunned by the revelation that the fabled Aesur stood before them.

Maro’s curiosity, however, had still not been satiated. He looked at Raissa, hardly even blinking as he studied her for a moment. “She looks more like you, though. She’s not an Aesur, is she?”

Joth shook his head, still smiling from his son’s constant wonder. “No, she is a human, just like you, me, and your mother.” He lowered Maro to the ground and took a step back, out of the way between his son and Raissa. “Now, I want you to be a gentleman and do what I always taught you when you meet a very special lady. You see, this here is Raissa Hokara—the Princess of Tordale.”

A collective gasp rose from the Azure Sands Outpost residents; they had been totally unaware that one of the last remaining members of the royal family had been in their presence that whole time. At once, the crowds of townsfolk dropped to their knees and bowed their heads in a show of reverence to their Princess and acting Queen of Tordale.

Maro did the same, and although he probably did not understand her importance quite like the others, his courteous show of respect moved Raissa the most.

“A pleasure to meet you, your Highness!” Maro exclaimed when he looked up at Raissa with a beaming expression, clearly remembering the conduct that his father had instilled in him.

Raissa fell to one knee and returned a bright smile. “An even greater pleasure to meet you, Maro!” she replied enthusiastically to humor the boy, and extended her arms to him. He immediately obliged, throwing himself at Raissa as the two met with a hug.

When they separated, Raissa noticed that the crowds of folk from the Azure Sands Outpost still knelt. She was almost embarrassed by their continued show of reverence. “Please, you all may stand,” she eventually said, her voice carrying across the streets.

The townsfolk rose back to their feet, and when they did, each one no longer looked baffled, uncertain, or shocked, as they had before. Their faces now glowed, only revealing a portion of the joy they must have harbored in seeing their beloved princess standing before them.

Aydri, however, was clearly overwhelmed. “Please forgive me, your Highness,” she said, hardly having the nerve to look into Raissa’s eyes. “If I had known that it was you before, we would have acknowledged you properly much sooner!”

Raissa suppressed a giggle. No matter how many times it happened in her life, she never quite managed to get used to hearing another adult so many years older than her speak to her with such humility. “You don’t have to apologize for anything,” she said, and spared a quick glance at her dusty, tattered attire. “I don’t exactly look the part of a princess right now, anyways.” Raissa was relieved to hear Aydri laugh at the remark.

“Nonsense, you look just as beautiful as I imagined, your Highness,” Aydri said. “To do so after wandering the desert for as long as you have is a true feat!”

Raissa had her turn to laugh now, with Joth, Dayneth, and several others joining in.

When they finished, Mayor Barlov spoke up. “No doubt, though, it is amazing that you all have crossed the desert with what appears to be such meager supplies. What exactly prompted this visit, your Highness?”

At once, the mirth slowly began to fade from the group, and Raissa’s expression leveled as she realized that the news of Baldaron’s attacks had not yet reached this remote part of the kingdom.

Joth appeared to come to the same conclusion. “It’s not for the most uplifting reasons,” he said. “You see, a few weeks ago—”

Raissa raised a dismissive hand. Joth immediately fell silent, realizing that Raissa felt the need to articulate the grim news this time. All eyes turned to her. She straightened where she stood, taking in a long, muted breath to compose herself. Although the subject still haunted her, she felt that it was her responsibility as acting Queen of Tordale to inform others about such happenings, and it was time that she was strong enough to live up to that task.

“Caldeya was attacked and captured by a mighty enemy just a few weeks ago,” she began, and recounted her escape from the kingdom’s capital city. She told them of Baldaron, his army, and the man’s mastery of Scourge. She then explained the Legend of Light, the Radia, and how they were the only hope at matching Baldaron’s dark and twisted magic.

While the rest of the townsfolk fell into stunned silence, Barlov took in the account with a measure of calm. “Then, am I correct to assume that you have traveled this way to find the Radia which was placed inside the Sandstone Mausoleum?” he asked.

Raissa nodded, and looked back at her companions. “Our group was originally very different from what you see before you. Aside from Joth and my guardian, Dayneth, Elisstriss and her fellow Aesur only joined up with me earlier this day. Before, our party had included other friends of mine, as well as my brother, Prince Tridian. He had left Caldeya days before it was attacked with a regiment of soldiers to scout the ocean, and we were lucky enough to encounter him after we marched through Sleekleaf Forest. We were separated from my brother and our other companions when monsters controlled by Baldaron attacked our ships out in the ocean.” Raissa noticed Barlov’s gaze harden, as well as several terrified faces throughout the crowd. “My brother still lives, however, as do our other friends. They are currently in possession of Xogun’s Radia, which we obtained from its resting place in Sleekleaf Forest. We hope to reunite with them at the Sandstone Mausoleum.”

Barlov nodded silently, clearly requiring a few moments to take in all of the shocking information. As Raissa allowed him to reflect over it, Joth broke in. “I’m thankful to say that the other soldiers who accompanied me to the summit at Caldeya also survived the attack,” he said. “They remained behind at Geldiar to bolster the town’s defenses, and help out where needed in the countryside. I’ll make sure to tell their families that they are safe.”

“A good idea, Captain,” Barlov agreed. “They have recently started to worry as to where all of you were. Knowing that all of you still live will bring them comfort.” The mayor of the Azure Sands Outpost looked away from Joth and faintly shook his head in disbelief. “Although, that comfort may be short-lived when they hear why they are in Geldiar. This is truly a remarkable turn of events. If there is any way our town can contribute to your quest, Princess Raissa, we will do our very best to accommodate you.”

“Your hospitality is already appreciated by all of us,” Raissa said. “Simply spending some time resting inside these walls will be invaluable to us before we depart for the Sandstone Mausoleum.”

“Then, I hope that we are able to do all that we can to prepare you for success on the rest of your journey,” Barlov said.

“I’m certain that you will,” Raissa said. She looked about, her eyes scanning the crowds of townsfolk. She made a deliberate attempt for her gaze to fall upon as many of the men, women, and children as possible to let them know she spoke to each and every one of them. “And I promise, your aid will go a long way in helping us save our kingdom.”

16

Even though the Azure Sands Outpost was the first proper settlement Raissa had seen in weeks, she spent little time resting after she was introduced to Mayor Barlov and Joth’s family. Instead, she went with Aydri to help prepare dinner, despite numerous protests that “the Princess of Tordale had no place laboring for others”. Raissa dismissed every argument with a smile, and cheerfully assisted the many cooks inside the fort’s barracks, who saw their normal meal preparation suddenly include a great deal of additional work with the nearly two-dozen guests they now had to feed.

Although Raissa and the Aesur were invited to eat in the barracks, the dining halls were not nearly big enough to contain the large gathering, so they sat outside on one of the fort’s spacious lawns. Normally, the desert’s relentless heat even made eating an ordeal while outside, but as the sun slowly slipped from the sky, it actually proved more comfortable to sit in the fresh air rather than to cram inside the barracks.

Shortly after they finished eating, the guards at the top of the nearby walls announced that a number of creatures they called “Grimali” had approached the town. Almost immediately, Maro hurried to the ramparts, scampering up the stairs so quickly that even Joth could not keep up with him. Aydri eventually went to join them, and she invited Raissa to come with her to see the Grimali.

Three had gathered to graze on the palm trees at the wall, and several more roamed not far from the fort. Raissa thought that they were beautiful creatures—built like a horse or an elk, but nearly three times the size, with long necks that craned up to the palm trees’ crowns to grab the choicest leaves. A pair of thick, black horns fell behind their heads. Their pelts were dark brown, while white stripes ran over their flanks.

Eventually one of the Grimali noticed the humans watching it. The tall creature turned to them and slowly approached the wall, its long snout coming just shy of the parapet. Maro quickly grabbed a handful of green palm leaves that had been stored on the top of the walls, and extended one to the Grimali. The creature obliged without a moment’s hesitation, and began to munch on the leaf that Maro excitedly offered.

As Raissa watched, she finally realized that she had seen the Grimali somewhere before. “I remember why the Grimali seem so familiar,” she said aloud as she looked at Joth. “You have one engraved on your shield.”

Joth smiled and nodded. “It’s funny you mention that, because that was one of the very first things that Alamor noticed about me. He asked about it while were walking through Sleekleaf Forest one evening.”

Raissa looked back at the Grimali that Maro fed. “He probably would really enjoy this right now. I think he would love seeing the Grimali so close.”

Joth grinned and patted his young son on the shoulder. “I doubt as much as this child, though. It’s like I told Alamor, the Grimali, alone, make Maro content to live out here in the desert. He’s even tried to get one as a pet!”

Raissa laughed, but Maro seemed to think it was a perfectly reasonable endeavor. “I still don’t know why you and mommy won’t let me keep one,” the boy said as he stretched a second palm leaf down to the Grimali.

Aydri rolled her eyes. “Because, like we’ve told you before, by the time it was full grown, it wouldn’t even fit in the stables. Unless you’d like to build the town a brand new one.”

Joth threw back his head and laughed. “Yes, if Maro had it his way, we wouldn’t be riding our black horses when we’re on patrol. Instead, we’d be riding the Grimali.”

Raissa giggled. “I actually think that would be sort of fun.”

Maro was thrilled to hear someone share his sentiment. “That’s what I always tell everyone!” he exclaimed, making Raissa laugh again. He then handed the Princess of Tordale a palm leaf as the Grimali finished the one he had been feeding it. “Here, your Highness, try feeding it to him.”

Raissa gladly acquiesced and reached down with the long leaf. The Grimali accepted it just as casually as the others, grabbing it with its long tongue before chomping away with its flat, boxy teeth.

When the Grimali had finished, it turned away from the wall and slowly began to walk back out into the desert. The other two Grimali eventually followed, and soon the three creatures joined with the rest of their herd and marched off toward the darkening horizon.

“Aw, they’re leaving a lot sooner than they usually do,” Maro said, unable to hide his disappointment.

“Do they normally stay around the town at night?” Raissa asked.

Aydri nodded. By the grin on her face, Raissa guessed that the woman knew from experience. “If there’s enough leaves for them to grab from the trees, or for someone to hand to them, they’ll stand around here for hours. There have been a few nights where one little boy, in particular, has stayed up long past his bedtime feeding them.” She glanced down at Maro as she said that, but he paid no attention to her as he watched the Grimali wander off, a smile still stretching across his face.

“Speaking of which,” Joth chimed in. “I think it’s getting late enough that he should make sure he does all of his chores before bedtime rolls around.”

“I agree,” Aydri added, looking at their son again. “Come along, Maro, let’s help everyone clean up from dinner, and then you can play with your toys before bed.” As Maro obediently jumped to his feet and began to follow his mother down the stairs back to the lawns below, Aydri looked at Raissa. “Don’t even think of coming with us this time, your Highness,” she said in a good-natured warning. “I refuse to let you do any more work tonight.”

Raissa laughed and simply nodded back with a wide smile; this time she would respect Aydri’s wishes.

Her smile remained as she watched Aydri and Maro head down the stairs and make their way across the lawn. When they came to the tables where everyone had eaten supper that evening, the mother and son immediately began to gather up plates and utensils to bring back to the kitchens.

Raissa glanced at Joth. The man stood just beside her, also watching Aydri and Maro. He smiled, but his was one of unspeakable pride in his beloved wife and child. The more that Raissa looked at him, the more she got the sense that Joth was impossibly happy with the blessings he knew in his life. He seemed to have all of his desires satisfied in the company of Aydri and Maro.

As that realization came to Raissa, her smile slowly faded. “Joth, listen,” she eventually said, her words only coming gradually. “I’ve been thinking about this for the last few days, and if you would rather stay back with your family while we move ahead on the rest of our journey, I won’t try to stop you.”

Joth did not answer Raissa immediately, nor did he even look at her. He kept his eyes fixed on his wife and son as they continued to help the other attendants clean up from dinner. After a lengthy silence, he finally grinned. “I appreciate that offer, your Highness, but I have no plans to abandon you just yet.”

“You wouldn’t be abandoning me,” Raissa insisted. “You’ve already helped our cause more than I could have ever imagined. You’re the only reason why Dayneth and I were able to make it across this desert. We don’t have much further to go; I’m sure we could get to the Sandstone Mausoleum on our own, and then the Aesur could guide us through the Tower Mountains to Skyscape.”

“You’re probably right, but I’m not remaining by your side just to make sure you that don’t get lost,” Joth countered. “When I agreed to join you on this quest all the way back in Geldiar, I didn’t do so expecting to bow out halfway through. I had every intention to see this through to the very end, and that hasn’t changed because I got a nice reminder today of the beautiful wife and the lovable son I have here.”

“Would you still feel that way if I told you that I do not plan to stay here for more than another day?” Raissa asked, a foreboding edge in her voice.

Joth finally looked in Raissa’s direction. He seemed unfazed by what she said. “Yes, I would. You could even want to leave tomorrow morning, and I would be awake as soon as the sun came up and marching out of the town’s front gate right alongside all of you.”

He let his eyes settle on Raissa, as if to solidify his answer’s sincerity.

Raissa could not bear to face him for long. She eventually turned and nodded silently, having nothing to say in response to Joth’s unflagging dedication to their journey. She was not entirely surprised by his answers, but it still amazed her just how committed he was to their task, even with the sacrifices it required of him. Despite spending nearly an entire day with his beloved wife and young son, the man was willing to say goodbye to them at any moment and embark once again on a quest that brought the risk of death at every turn.

“Your Highness,” Joth said. She looked up at him once more, and his grin had leveled into a warm smile. “I can see that you feel guilty over this. Please, don’t be. This is my own choice. I’ve made choices like this for my entire life; they’ve been necessary for me to carry out my duty as a soldier of Tordale. This is not the first time that I’ve had to look away from something that I love dearly in order to contribute to this kingdom, and I’m certain it won’t be the last.”

Raissa still could not entirely conceal the sympathy and regret she carried. “But what will Aydri and Maro think? You just returned today after weeks of being away from them. How will they be able to deal with you leaving again?”

“They’ll be disappointed, no doubt, but they’re a lot stronger than you might think,” Joth said. “They’re a military family—they understand my responsibility just as well as I do. It’s not the easiest life for them to live, but luckily for me, they respect and admire the work that I do. They know that even if I’m not always around, I’m doing something they can be very proud of. That provides them a great amount of solace to help them cope with my absence. They know that they’re serving the military and the kingdom, too.”

“And how do you deal with it?” Raissa asked.

“Not so differently from them,” Joth answered. He looked back to the courtyard where they had all gathered for dinner that evening, where Aydri and Maro continued to help with the cleanup duties. His eyes softened as he watched them. “While I’m far away from these walls on a mission, very few moments go by where I don’t think of my wife or my son. Knowing that they have such pride in my work, knowing that they look at me as a hero for the sacrifices that I make, it allows me to carry out my tasks without any regret. I’m only able to be the soldier that I am because of their unfailing support.” Joth snickered for a moment before a chuckle escaped his lips. “It also has seemed to inspire Maro. I can’t make a foolproof prediction for what a six year old boy has in store for him the rest of his life, but based on what I’ve seen and heard from him lately, he’s well on his way to someday being a proud soldier himself.”

Raissa laughed as she watched Maro diligently hurry across the courtyard, lending a hand wherever it was needed. “It wouldn’t surprise me at all if he turns out that way. You and Aydri have obviously done a wonderful job raising him. I’m certain that he will grow up to be a fine man.”

“Thank you, your Highness,” Joth said. “That is an extraordinary compliment coming from you of all people.”

Raissa turned to Joth again, this time showing him a bright smile that had been absent from her features for most of their conversation. It seemed to be what Joth had waited to see, as he gently placed a hand on her shoulder before stepping toward the stairs.

“If you don’t mind, then, I have things to take care of before the end of the night, namely with our preparations for when we leave. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to let Aydri or I know.”

Raissa nodded, and Joth made his way down the steps that led him off the wall. As she watched him go, Raissa felt a great weight be lifted from her conscious. She had been nervous about initiating that conversation with Joth, mostly because she was not sure how he would react to finding out that she wanted to leave the Azure Sands Outpost so soon after arriving. She previously worried that Joth would have been conflicted over her offer for him to stay with his family. She did not want to see the man feel regret over whatever decision he made.

It was comforting for Raissa to know that he was in full support of what she chose, and that he would loyally follow her as they continued this dangerous and wild journey. She was certain that he would think of his wife and son often throughout the rest of their quest, as he likely had done since the beginning, but Raissa understood now that Joth would never let the distance from his family hinder his efforts in whatever mission he may undertake. If anything, it was evident from their conversation that by thinking about Aydri and Maro, Joth would be inspired to lend his abilities to their absolute fullest.

She stayed atop the ramparts for a little while, letting her thoughts settle as she watched the dusk slowly become night within the desert sky. As the celestial canopy grew dark and became filled by swirling galaxies and glimmering stars from far-off worlds, it offered Raissa a gorgeous vista to take in.

There were still many things in Raissa’s future that concerned her, but after her conversation with Joth, she could at least say that one issue no longer plagued her mind.

* * * * *

While Raissa did not want to have an extended stay at the Azure Sands Outpost, she recognized the benefit of, at the very least, a full day’s rest with all of the comforts and amenities that the fort offered. Just how much of a difference sleeping in a soft bed, eating hearty meals, and taking in the atmosphere of civilization for a day or two would actually have on Raissa and her companions was uncertain, but she was eager to welcome the relief, even if it was only temporary. When she woke up the next morning and stepped outside, finding herself surrounded by four protective walls, among so many good, honest people, she was confident that just a taste of this bliss was worthwhile. After encountering the very worst of the desert, where both the environment and its inhabitants were lethal, the Azure Sands Outpost and those who called it home felt like the very best part of the Arid Reaches. The town was as stalwart as it was comforting, defying the harsh environment by thriving in a region that was so inhospitable.

That prosperity came with the blessed flow of clean water from the spring which the town had been built around. Early in the afternoon, Aydri and Maro took Raissa and the Aesur to it so they could pick flowers from the bountiful vegetation that flourished along its edges. The spring’s size amounted to little more than a pond; Raissa had seen larger out on the Plains of Oston. But while standing in the shallows, where some of the town’s children splashed around to cool off on the sweltering summer day, she could see through the crystal-clear surface that the waters fell deep into the ground.

This natural miracle emerged from the earth bearing the promise of life in the unforgiving desert. The invigorating, unspoiled waters gushed from the Arid Reaches’ floor as verdurous vegetation sprang along its rim. Tall palm trees cradling fruit just beneath their crowns rose at the very edge of the waters’ reach. Carpets of jade grass and patches of vibrant wildflowers surrounded the palm trees’ trunks, while clusters of reeds sprouted in the shallows.

The lush sights reminded Raissa of the Gracereed Wetlands, which seemed like a lifetime ago after the last few days of slogging across the sandy, barren land. As much as she appreciated every bit of beauty that the spring offered, she did not appreciate it quite like Elisstriss and the Aesur soldiers did. For Raissa, it was refreshing, relieving; for the Aesur, it was fascinating. They came from a world where vegetation never formed so voluminously and so vividly. Skyscape was a realm among the tallest mountaintops, where the air was chill, and the most common sights were ice and rock. The plant life around the spring was like natural artwork to the Aesur, a wonder for them to behold.

Raissa and her companions collected a plethora of colorful flowers, most of which would be used to decorate various spaces about the barracks, but Maro saved three to courteously offer to Raissa, Elisstriss, and Dayneth. Even after they finished, they stayed at the spring to enjoy its comforts. Maro went off to play with the other children in the shallows. Raissa was content to sit by the edge of the spring and keep her feet dipped in the waters; simply being submerged up to her ankles was soothing enough while enduring the desert’s perpetual heat.

Dayneth eventually gathered the other Aesurs’ attention. She had seen such vegetation before during her time spent on the continent, and her kind’s admiration for the foliage prompted her to begin recounting more of her experiences from over the years. Every set of eyes and ears were drawn to her as she told stories of what incredible things she had seen on the surface world while working to build relations between her people and the other races. Raissa could not decide if Dayneth’s fellow Aesur were more amazed by her stories, or just by her mere presence. At a certain point, even Aydri sat down to listen to Dayneth’s tales.

There was one person absent from their gathering, though, and it spurred Raissa’s curiosity once she noticed it. She stopped and glanced about the spring, soon spotting Elisstriss.

The younger of the Highfeather’s daughters sat alone, on the opposite side of the spring. She was far away enough from the other Aesur that there was no way she could hear anything that Dayneth would have said. Elisstriss never even glanced in Dayneth’s direction, showing no interest in what her sister and her fellow Aesur discussed as she sat quietly, eyes settled on the waters.

Raissa eventually stood and went to join her. Even as she came near, Elisstriss still seemed to be unaware of anything around them. “I’m surprised that you’re not listening to Dayneth with the rest of them,” Raissa finally said when she was within earshot.

Elisstriss’s eyebrows jumped momentarily, suggesting that she was startled by Raissa’s presence. The Aesur’s smile seemed to mask her embarrassment as she looked back at her sister and the soldiers. “I have already heard many of the stories that she is telling them,” Elisstriss said. “During my sister’s few visits to Skyscape years ago, when she brought news of her exploits here on the surface world, she mostly spoke to just my parents and I. She tended to keep her distance from the rest of my people.”

As Raissa sat next to Elisstriss, she chuckled softly. “That sounds like the Dayneth that I know. After all of the years that she’s spent at Tordale Castle, she has yet to say a word to most of the soldiers and attendants who live there.”

Elisstriss’s eyes shifted. “If anyone would know her well, it is you,” she added.

Although Elisstriss did not display it outwardly, Raissa could not help but feel that there was some pain in those words. It was a fairly innocuous statement, but the implication behind it struck Raissa hard, mostly because of the truth that it carried. Elisstriss was Dayneth’s only sibling, someone actually connected to her by blood, and yet it seemed that Elisstriss hardly knew her.

Raissa suddenly felt a new understanding of what Dayneth meant to her, a new, greater sense of appreciation. She was not even of the same race as her guardian, but their relationship was infinitely deeper than anything Dayneth maintained with her own family.

“I’m definitely lucky for her to have been such an important part of my life,” Raissa said, deliberately speaking with reverence in her tone. “I hope you know just how appreciative I am of her.”

Elisstriss peered at Raissa through the corner of her eye. A moment later, she turned and faced Raissa, a look of concern coming over her. “Forgive me if I sounded bitter,” Elisstriss said. “I wasn’t trying to express any kind of resentment about my sister, or the duty she took upon herself. Please believe me when I say that I hold no kind of blame against you or your family.”

Raissa smiled. She was moved by how meek and selfless Elisstriss could be. “I know that you don’t, I am sure of that.” Raissa let her expression level. She prepared to venture upon a heavier subject. “However, there is something I must ask you, if you don’t mind.” She paused. Raissa was reluctant to bring up the question, but her curiosity was too great to leave unsated. “Why have you and Dayneth said so little to each other? I apologize, since it is probably not my place to say this, but it almost seems that you two are avoiding one another…”

Raissa’s voice trailed off as she felt her nerve evaporate after making the bold statement. To her relief, Elisstriss showed a soothing expression.

“Don’t feel guilty; it is a fair question for you to ask,” Elisstriss replied, clearly aware of the apprehension that Raissa harbored. “After all, there is much truth to what you said.”

Even though she suspected that her intuition was right, Raissa was still stunned by the confirmation. “Why do you both do that, then? Why distance yourselves from one another?”

“I cannot speak for my sister, but I am confident that she would agree with me when I say that our different duties cannot allow for us to become any closer with the other,” Elisstriss answered.

Raissa could not comprehend the explanation, but before she could press further, Elisstriss continued.

“You must understand—I love Dayneth very much, and I know she feels the same of me. But the ultimate reason why we have remained apart is because of the choices that we have both made. It is our individual aspirations—mine to be a master Airtamer, and serve the Aesur, while Dayneth’s is to serve your family and unite our peoples—that have placed us in two different worlds. It is our own doing.” Elisstriss looked at Raissa, then. The Aesur wore what Raissa found to be a strange sense of calm over her features, given the subject at hand. “Perhaps there is no harm at all in exchanging more words then we have thus far, but what we are not willing to risk is any kind of longing for one another’s presence. I cannot become accustomed to seeing Dayneth, or hearing her voice, because I know that it will not last. It would only keep me from offering my full dedication to Skyscape and the Aesur.” Elisstriss laughed softly to herself. “I know that must sound so cruel of me to say, but this is the fate that has been bestowed upon us, certainly by our own choosing. Our duties are worlds apart; no matter how unfortunate it is, we can never share a bond as normal sisters if we are to remain in service to the peoples we have dedicated ourselves to.”

Raissa shook her head. “It’s not cruel at all; it’s tremendously wise,” she noted, and it was a genuine insight. “I can see it in you just how much you admire Dayneth. You two may not know each other quite like family perhaps should, but you love one another just as much.”

Something of a sheepish grin briefly formed through Elisstriss’s lips. “I am sorry to say, though, that it was not always that way. There was a time years ago where my love for Dayneth was far more possessive. I did not understand the work that she did or the good that it brought to others. I was upset that I could not have my older sister in my life, while others who were not even related to her or of our race were lucky enough to.” Elisstriss looked at Raissa, a veil of guilt falling over her eyes. “I was very jealous of you. I questioned why you got to have my sister by your side growing up, while I was left with very rare—and very brief—visits. Eventually, for many years, I didn’t even have those—only scarce memories and my imagination of her. I was a very foolish young girl back then, too selfish to realize the comfort that Dayneth must have brought you after the terrible plight that befell your family.”

Elisstriss did not need to say precisely what that plight was. Raissa knew what Elisstriss referred to. “I am forever grateful for the guidance that your sister has given me over the years,” Raissa said. “I want you to know that her sacrifices made my brother and I far better people. Not having my mother there to care for us as we grew older, it made me appreciate every last thing Dayneth ever did to instruct and protect us.” Raissa’s gaze hardened somewhat, her eyes sinking into Elisstriss. “Dayneth is an incredible woman. You should be honored to call her your family.”

Elisstriss nodded. “I very much am, and that has helped me learn how to be grateful for what she has blessed my life with. You see, Dayneth is viewed differently by my people from myself; she may be a daughter of our father, the Highfeather, but she is spoken of as something like a mythical figure. Even though she has not stepped foot on Skyscape in many years, the Aesur hold her in great regard. My people have grown to revere her for her efforts upon the surface world. I am proud to say that I eventually grew to have that same understanding of her. We may not look upon one another or speak to one another, but Dayneth’s goals, and her commitment to them, it all inspires me. It compels me to be just as strong as she is, and to do as much good for my people as she does elsewhere in the world. That is not bizarre to you, is it?”

Raissa’s smile reached far across her face. “Not at all,” she answered. “It is not so different from how my mother and my father continue to guide me.”

Elisstriss returned a smile equally as warm as Raissa’s. “I think that we are both being guided very well, then.”

They reached out and took one another by the hand, sharing a loving clasp that contained all of the respect, understanding, and admiration that they had managed to gain for one another in such a short amount of time.

Raissa felt that her life had been blessed, again.

17

Waking up the next morning was much more difficult than Raissa anticipated. She slept comfortably for the second night in a row, which she attributed to her sleeping in an actual bed. Since leaving Geldiar, her nights were spent on the cold, hard ground, within cramped cots aboard swaying ships, or on flat cushions that hardly lifted her from the rocky floor of the Bachu Caverns.

Two nights’ sleep in a spacious, soft bed, and in a room that stood still was a luxury during this journey, one that she wished she could indulge in longer.

But she was the reason why that could not be. She was the one who decided that her party would leave the Azure Sands Outpost after just two days’ rest to continue their trek to the Sandstone Mausoleum. Raissa forced herself out of bed shortly after Dayneth roused her from her slumber, and she hurriedly readied herself for their departure. If she was to be the reason why her companions had so little time to rest, then she could not appear weary or disgruntled; she would have to at least appear as if she tolerated her quest’s rigors.

She also did it out of respect for Joth and his family. Raissa still harbored a measure of guilt that the man was leaving his wife and son once again, and so quickly after reuniting with them. Joth, as well as Aydri and Maro, were making a tremendous sacrifice for the quest to claim the Radia—a far greater one than a few extra hours in a comfortable bed.

When Raissa, Joth, Dayneth, and the rest of the Aesur were ready, they gathered at the Azure Sands Outpost’s main gate, where Mayor Barlov and several townsfolk and soldiers gathered to see them off on their journey.

Aydri and Maro were also there. They were surprisingly stoic about Joth’s departure. But then again, Raissa remembered, Joth had said that this was a circumstance that their family was accustomed to by now. Still, to see a wife and such a young boy regard the situation without a single tear amazed Raissa. Aydri and Maro accepted the reunion’s end with quiet dignity as they said goodbye to Joth that morning, also spending a few minutes with Raissa to offer her their best wishes. The tight embraces that they gave Raissa in farewell were as if they came from lifelong family members.

It was the Azure Sands Outpost’s soldiers who seemed to be the most upset at Joth’s abrupt departure. They withheld any frowns, but there was no mistaking the disappointment in their faces as they said goodbye to their respected captain before he embarked on a dangerous journey without them.

Mayor Barlov was the last to speak to Raissa’s party, making a special note to thank her for the brief, but uplifting presence she brought to the town. When Barlov was finished, Raissa and her companions set out, the last goodbyes being shouted as they passed through the main gate and ventured into the Arid Reaches, once more.

Within a short time, their trek took them far enough that the fort was a vague shape of brown and white stone behind them. Raissa glanced back at one point and was just able to make out some of the palm trees rising next to the town’s walls. Not long after, when she looked again, she could hardly discern any of it.

Despite how tired most of the company appeared to be, Joth had them march across the desert at a brisk pace that morning. He explained that he wanted them to cover as much ground as possible in the day’s early hours, when the heat was not so oppressive. Raissa and the Aesur complied with Joth’s urging, showing no issue with moving swiftly, even after their truncated stay at the Azure Sands Outpost. Every member of the party kept their feet moving as they followed their resolute guide further into the barren realm.

Still, it seemed that the Arid Reaches’ sweltering temperatures began to arrive just a short while after they commenced their journey. It was as if the desert made a deliberate attempt to thwart their sound strategy for travel, like a conscious effort by the unforgiving environment to make their march as trying as possible.

Raissa was nearly convinced of this when they came to an area of the desert were the sand lay in a thick, heavy carpet, like the very same that they waded through after the dust storm days earlier. Joth had said that the violent squalls only occasionally touched the area of the Arid Reaches where the Azure Sands Outpost stood, but evidently one managed to move into those parts recently. Just as it had been before, the packed sand impeded their hurried strides, slowing their each and every step with its coarse, choking grip.

At least, that was until Elisstriss offered her magical abilities. She summoned the air currents around her and joined them into a single, concentrated stream that she used to push aside the layers of sediment from their path. By clearing away the dense floor of sand, Elisstriss made it so that they walked on empty, nearly flat terrain, allowing them to move much faster than if they were to trudge through the sand.

Elisstriss maintained the incredible spell for more than an hour, only stopping the act of Airtaming when it was clear that her body and spirit could expend no further magic without dire ramifications. She expressed regret at having to rest when she did, but Joth assured her that it allowed their group to cover a vast distance in good time, while Raissa and Dayneth marveled at her immense magical capabilities, and her endurance for them.

As predicted, they were forced to slow their pace in the afternoon when the heat was at its worst, and the blazing sun stared down at them with its harshest rays. Joth did not hurry them after that. He seemed content for their group to move leisurely throughout the rest of the day.

He called for them to stop once twilight approached. They camped at the base of an especially large sand dune which served as a wall against the chill wind that night. They built a pair of small fires, but the tempered flames were barely able to ward off the cold that fell over the desert when the land grew dark.

The next three days of their trek were not much different from their first, with the exception that Elisstriss never needed to move the sand from their feet again, although she did attempt to generate gentle breezes around their group to keep them cooler during the afternoons, when the sun’s rays were almost unbearably hot.

On the fourth night, they were unable to find any kind of shelter, forcing them to camp out in the open wasteland, where there was no protection from the cold winds. That night more so than any other made Raissa long for the warm bed she slept in at the Azure Sands Outpost, and she suspected that everyone else in her company felt the same.

They resumed their trek very early the next morning, if for no other reason than that most of them did not sleep much throughout the night, and there was nothing to gain from trying to fall asleep once dawn came to the land. With the sun just beginning its gradual ascent into the sky, they set out along what Joth said was the last leg of their march to the Sandstone Mausoleum. His claims that they were just hours away from the ancient resting ground seemed to inspire the rest of the party; even after a night where hardly any of them slept for long, the group remained lively and upbeat during their march.

Raissa did not look at it as any sort of conclusion, however. It may have been the endgame for their tumultuous journey across the Arid Reaches, but it did not mean the end of their quest to save Tordale.

No, she realized, there would still be much to do afterward.

Their journey dictated that they navigate the Tower Mountains, find the Spirit Shrine in Skyscape that would take them to Ralu and Xogun, and, eventually, face Baldaron and the nightmarish Scourge that he wielded.

Of course, all of that would come to be only if they managed to obtain the Radia of Hope, but that was not what Raissa considered the most difficult task.

Alamor.

Her mind became wrapped around the thought of him as she and her party closed in on the Sandstone Mausoleum. He was still out there, somewhere in the heart of the vast, cruel desert with likely no inkling of where to go aside from what her magical signals told him, if he truly understood them at all.

That would be what determined the fate of their quest, Raissa knew. She had no doubts that she and Alamor could acquire Ralu’s Radia when reunited, but whether or not they actually would be reunited was still a question with no sure answer.

Raissa felt fear and anticipation boil inside of her as the day wore on. The time was coming to see if Alamor had attained an understanding of his immense Serenity, if he had truly overcome the numerous doubts and hardships that for so long kept him from realizing his boundless potential.

Only then would there be hope to rescue Tordale from Baldaron’s darkness.

Raissa had to believe that she would be reunited with Alamor, soon enough.

She spent so much time contemplating Alamor’s role in their desired success that she barely perceived the hours pass by during their trek. It felt to her as if they had just left their campsite when her thoughts were interrupted by Joth’s proclamation that they had at last come upon the Sandstone Mausoleum.

As Raissa’s focus came back to the world around her, she was not sure at first if she believed Joth. All that she saw in the distance was a gigantic ridge that spanned much of the horizon. The land behind it appeared to climb from the desert floor, ascending into mountainous masses of solid rock—surely the place where the continent began to grow into the Tower Mountains.

Then her eyes discerned more features of the ridge. A façade carved into its rocky surface became apparent to her. A series of steps ran up to the gaping entryway, the stairs rising fifty feet or more to the arched pinnacle. An obelisk fashioned out of the ridge’s reddish rock stood on each side of the yawning gate, their tall forms culminating in a pointed tip.

With each step that they took toward the ridge, Raissa began to sense the spirits that still dwelled inside the Sandstone Mausoleum. Many were those of Spiritcasters from long ago, whose souls had descended to the ancient monument, surely to watch over the awesome magic that had been hidden with its halls.

Raissa’s party stopped no more than a hundred yards from the steps that led up to the Sandstone Mausoleum’s entryway. Each member of their group took a moment to marvel at the incredible structure that was carved by bare hands some hundreds of years ago.

“This is the place that you have been seeking?” Elisstriss asked aloud.

“It is,” Joth confirmed. He breathed something of a sigh of relief. “I’ve stood here many times before, but this is certainly the happiest I’ve ever been to finally see that entrance.”

Dayneth approached Joth until she stood side by side with him. She placed a hand on his shoulder. “You have done a great job in guiding us this whole time. We would not be here right now without you.”

Joth smiled, even though it did not appear entirely sincere. “Well, I thank you for that, but I’d rather you commend me once our mission is finally accomplished. As it is, our work is only half done.” He then looked at Raissa. “Isn’t that right, your Highness?”

Raissa nodded, but she did not turn her eyes from the enormous entry upon the ridge. “We will have to wait before we even begin to complete that task, though.”

“You mean to wait for your other companions to arrive,” Elisstriss said, not so much of a question as it was a statement. “And especially for your friend, Alamor.”

“That’s right,” Raissa confirmed. “That is the only way we will obtain the magic hidden inside those walls.”

Without so much as a glance at the others, Raissa turned and walked off. To her relief, she heard no questions or cries of protest from any of them as she left the group. Evidently, they understood what she was heading off to do.

She finally stopped when she came to the top of a high rising sand dune. She had not walked terribly far from her companions, only enough that she could not hear them, or that they would not distract her.

Raissa gazed into the depths of the desert. The flat, sandy floor seemed to run on forever into the hazy horizon, which was blurred by the scorching heat. Somewhere out there in that vast region, Alamor, Tridian, and their other companions were attempting to make their way to the very spot where she stood.

You can do this, Alamor, Raissa thought.

She took a deep breath. Closing her eyes, she began to invoke her Serenity. The magic welled up quickly at her command, but it was only the beginning of what she intended to call to her aid. Raissa fell into a state of focus so deep that her consciousness was soon lost to the world around her. She dug deep into her magical reserves, gathering Serenity from all corners of her being and collecting it into one stupendous measure.

When she was confident that she had summoned enough, she cast it from her physical form. It was a voiceless cry, a proclamation without words that roared into the desert ahead of her. Raissa’s link flew far from where she stood, echoing across the barren land in search of her lost companions.

Just as it had been the times before, she felt like she traveled with it, soaring alongside the magical message in its flight. She saw each and every mile that her call journeyed over, like a rushing wind over the seemingly endless land of sand of rock.

Raissa sensed several signs of life during her pursuit—harmless animals like the Grimali, dangerous beasts like the Kaivu, even a handful of humans who happened to be roaming the harsh desert, but none who could receive and understand her message. She continued to stretch her magical call until time became a distant memory to her, and she no longer recognized its passing as she searched for Alamor.

It could have been hours, even days for all she knew, when she detected a pair of magical presences many leagues away from where her body still stood. Both presences revealed incredible Serenity, but one was far greater than the other, and it was bolstered by a pure, sacred power of unfathomable magnitude.

She saw him, and he was not alone.

Through the eyes of her Serenity, Raissa watched Alamor, Tridian, Tiroku, Rawner, Hinton, and Pauma march across the Arid Reaches.

18

Even larger than one of the wolves that roamed the Plains of Oston, and with ocher fur that allowed it to blend in with its sandy environment, the Dunehound was one of the most cunning predators in the Arid Reaches.

The wild dog followed the Gritback’s scent, its long legs slinking across the sand. The smell grew more potent with every step, telling the Dunehound that it did not need to go far before it would find its intended meal. It moved so delicately that its padded paws hardly disrupted the sand beneath them—the act of a silent hunter that kept it from giving prey any warning of its arrival. The Dunehound’s stealthy movements were so discrete that its footfalls were inaudible even to humans. It was not especially common for the desert beast to hunt humans, but if it was desperate enough for sustenance, or it happened upon one that seemed vulnerable, the Dunehound was more than capable of bringing down a grown man.

Although the meal that the wild dog sought right now would not be quite as filling, it would suffice. The Dunehound plunged its long snout into the sand, reaching far enough to capture the idle Gritback in its jaws.

The Gritback was dead before it was pulled from the ground. The Dunehound’s powerful fangs crushed the insect’s exoskeleton with ease and sliced into the soft, juicy flesh beneath. The Dunehound let its quarry fall to the ground and steadied the Gritback with a paw as saliva oozed from its lips.

It was about to take its first bite when the Dunehound realized that something was nearby. The wild dog lifted its head and looked out into the desert. It sensed, more so than heard or smelled, whatever moved among the sands in the distance. It was moving closer as the seconds rolled by. Whatever it was, it made the Dunehound’s primal instincts warn of danger.

The Dunehound was a formidable creature, but it was not without threats in the desert. Another Dunehound could be a dangerous foe, while a rival pack was sure death. If a hungry Kaivu might be pursuing it at that moment, the Dunehound stood no chance.

The wild dog chose not to risk learning the intruder’s identity. It scooped up the Gritback in its mouth and scurried off into a nearby ravine, its legs carrying it far away as Baldaron and his army approached.

The man marched until he came to the very spot where the Dunehond had captured its prey. Baldaron stopped atop the hill, and his Wraithlings and the Baroso came to a halt behind him. Only Golric joined him as he stood and stared out over the desolate expanse. What lay before him looked no different from what he walked for miles in the previous days—a wide, sprawling plain of dusty sand dunes, broken only by occasional formations of gritty rock that struggled to pull themselves from the earth.

Yet Baldaron knew that he had finally come to a place of significance in the Arid Reaches; not for what lay before him, but for what lay beneath.

His uncle also realized the importance of where they stood. “It brings back memories for you, doesn’t it?” Golric asked as his thin eyes scanned the empty expanse.

“Many,” Baldaron answered. “The last time we were here, I was still just a boy.”

“And not very long after I returned home and found you,” Golric said.

Baldaron nodded. There was no look of satisfaction over his features; his pale face was bereft of any smile, smirk, or grin. Taking their place was a brooding expression that told of the grim thoughts and memories that filled Baldaron’s mind at that moment.

A grin crossed Golric’s face, however. “I remember the look in your eyes as we huddled behind the rocks and watched the battle. You showed no fear, no disgust of what we witnessed that day. You were stoic to what you saw, as if you studied it. Any other child, even many men would have been horrified of those sights.”

“That is because I had witnessed far worse just days earlier,” Baldaron said.

“Yes, you did,” Golric agreed. “And though you suffered such a cruel fate and had so much taken from you, you were not broken. You became stronger because of it.”

Even though his uncle spoke with blatant enthusiasm about the darkest chapter in his life, Baldaron was not angered. It was, after all, what eventually brought him and his uncle together, and provided his uncle with a feeling of power and accomplishment that he had been denied for all of his life beforehand. “I suppose that cannot be denied.”

“Do you remember what it is was that you asked me as we watched all of those men slaughter one another that day?”

Baldaron recalled the moment in his head; he could hear himself from his youth repeating the question that his uncle referred to. “‘Can Scourge destroy all of those men?’”

“And do you remember what you said once I told you that it could?”

“‘Teach me,’” Baldaron answered.

In that moment, it felt as though Baldaron’s consciousness traveled back through time, flying from the present to take shelter in the traumatized boy who had stood in this same spot so many years ago. When his feet last touched this particular stretch of the desert, he was hardly a week removed from witnessing the horrors that claimed his home and family. He was only in the infancy of his mastery over Scourge.

Baldaron had already heard Scourge’s whisper even before the first time that he and his uncle came to this plain of sand and dust. He had known it from the very day that he watched his family and friends slaughtered, and his village destroyed, even if he did not understand at the time what wordlessly spoke to him. He also did not yet understand the fiery symbol that mysteriously began to burn on his palm—the fist clutching flames.

He could not acknowledge, nor respond to Scourge back then, but they were the earliest calls which Baldaron heard to accept the glory of vengeance, of rage. It revealed truths which his faith in the Sages and Serenity had kept hidden from him. With its very first utterances to Baldaron, Scourge told him that it would give back to him what the Sages and Serenity refused to protect, and more.

His uncle, returning to their village for the first time since venturing to the south to study magic with the Dawnwatch, sensed Scourge’s bubbling presence in Baldaron. Golric enlightened Baldaron that he had been chosen by the incomparable energy, gifted with a power unlike any other in the wake of losing everything else. Scourge had selected Baldaron to reshape what life had stole from him.

Golric took Baldaron under his wing, fleeing not to the bountiful regions in the south, but further into the Arid Reaches, where war continued to wage. Baldaron and his uncle followed the conflict, bloodshed acting as a beacon. Those countless humans who fell to the carnage served as Baldaron’s stepping stones toward his perfect union with Scourge. The dead allowed him to hone Scourge’s blessing of matter manipulation. The dying offered an even greater bounty to be reaped—the last gasps of life, which taught Baldaron how easily existence could be manipulated.

The war which tried to take everything from him in turn provided Baldaron his army of Wraithlings, and the strength which allowed him to challenge the limitations that time and space levied upon living beings. With Scourge, Baldaron defied more than just Serenity and the Sages. He defied mortality. He defied fate.

Scourge gave him a choice which would have otherwise been impossible—to forge the destiny he deserved.

As Baldaron’s attention returned to the present, Golric seemed to be exuberant over his vivid memory. “You appear to remember that glorious day just as well as I do.”

“I hope you are not surprised, uncle,” Baldaron said. “That is a day that should be etched into our minds for all eternity. On that day, we began our conquest of this land.”

Golric turned and swept his beaming eyes over Baldaron’s army. “You’ve come so far in your goal. Many years ago, it was just you and I standing here as we watched those men slay one another. Now, we are joined by an entire army that you have created with your own power.”

Baldaron also looked out over his ranks. His eyes settled upon his many underlings: Captain Ironbone, Destrala and the Strife Wings, the scores of armored Wraithlings. Years ago, there may have been an army that he watched upon that plain, more than one, at that, but this army before him was one that was solely under his command.

Eventually, his dark gaze fell to Tauroc and the Rockclaw Baroso.

“Not all among my army were fashioned by Scourge,” Baldaron said, raising his voice so that the Baroso would hear him. “But they no longer have to consider themselves a part of it, if they choose.”

The implication behind Baldaron’s words seemed to gradually fall in place for each Baroso warrior. One by one, the glares and scowls that had bent their features for days finally leveled. Many among them glanced about at one another with broadened eyes filled with disbelief.

Sensing that they had no words in response, Baldaron continued. He looked directly at Tauroc. “I no longer require your tribe to bolster my army. You Baroso are free to return to your home.”

Tauroc stared back at Baldaron as suspicion began to rise in his beastly eyes. It was as if the Rockclaw Chieftain was unnerved to hear Baldaron address him with such a stoic tone. “So, our pact is finished, then? You will leave my tribe alone after all of this?”

“You think that I am the most vile being to walk this land, but I abide by any agreement that I ever make,” Baldaron said. “You have offered me your knowledge of the mountain passes, as well as your strength in battle. For that, your kind is safe from my reach as I sweep over the rest of Tordale. At least, so long as you never interfere with any of my plans.”

“On behalf of my entire tribe, I promise that will not happen,” Tauroc quickly replied, as if he was desperate to gain Baldaron’s approval. “You will never see, nor hear from any of us ever again. We will remain in Rockclaw Rise for the rest of our days.”

“I trust that you will, but first I wish to show you something before you depart,” Baldaron said. “Do you know what this expanse behind me is?

“If it bears significance, then I do not,” Tauroc answered.

“Great significance,” Baldaron said. He turned away from Tauroc and back to the bleak horizon. The chaotic images that he witnessed as a young boy nearly three decades ago seemed to manifest themselves before his eyes, once again. “Like so many other corners of this region, the expanse we stand before hides a bloody secret from the past. Years ago, a great battle was waged over these sands, the largest of any recorded during King Aurilion Hokara’s campaign to claim the Arid Reaches under the royal family’s rule. It occurred a few weeks after the Tordalian forces first marched into the desert, when the innumerable tribes of outlaws realized that, individually, they stood no chance before the king’s army. This brought many gangs and other bandit hordes together to create their own army, and they eventually met with the Tordalian forces on this very plain. It was a vicious battle, and although the bandit army was eventually routed, they managed to bring down much of King Aurilion’s army. When it was over, the bodies lay over the desert floor for nearly a league in all directions. It would later come to be known as The Battle of the Red Sands, because for years afterward, the ground was stained with the blood of all those who died.”

As Baldaron paused, he lifted an arm and pointed his outstretched hand toward the desolate horizon. He silently called forth his Scourge, summoning to his fingertips a multitude of the many souls he harvested throughout his time spreading terror across Tordale. “All of the slain soldiers and bandits were eventually buried over the years,” Baldaron went on, “becoming unceremoniously trapped beneath the shifting sands after giving their lives in battle. But today, they will finally be freed.”

When his words concluded, so did his spell. At his command, the souls that he called forth flew from his body in arcs of glassy light. They darted forward and into the ground, disappearing beneath the sand. Baldaron felt them travel deep into the earth as he guided them toward their new vessels that lay far below. When the souls came to one, he had them enter and take it as their new entity. The symbol of Scourge materialized somewhere upon their forms.

Baldaron turned his open palm skyward and lifted his arm, commanding the souls and their new bodies to reveal themselves. One by one, an army of corpses emerged into open air for the first time in nearly three decades, their long-decayed bodies now animated through Baldaron’s magic. They came in many shapes and sizes, some dressed by simple garb like cloaks, tunics, and leather armor, while others were covered by steel mail that bore the emblem of the royal family upon their chest plates. One trait shared by all, though, was the bleached bones that were visible where no clothing or armor lay, including the skulls, many of which seemed to still wear the agonized expression of the man when he was slain.

The corpses rose from the ground like puppets on strings, only moving because of the master who gave them life. When they landed on their feet, they became as still as statues, waiting silently for Baldaron’s next command.

Baldaron stared at the waves of Tordalian soldiers and desert bandits who fought and died in The Battle of the Red Sands. Their numbers were nearly as great as the army that he had marched with since leaving Caldeya, but they still required some fitting before they would serve as Wraithlings.

“Uncle, dress them, and arm them,” Baldaron said, never even turning his eyes to Golric.

“Of course, my nephew,” Golric hastily replied. The old sorcerer seemed delighted by the opportunity to utilize his own Scourge. He pointed his fingers toward the risen army, directing bolts of crimson light that sped at each reanimated body. The lights landed within their skeletonized hands and granted each one a weapon—a sword, an axe, a spiked mace, a lance, among other hideously-shaped varieties.

Golric then directed bolts of his Scourge to spill over the corpses, themselves. The crimson light enveloped them, shimmering and bending as it brought them new forms. When the light dispersed, those soldiers stood encapsulated by black armor like the rest of the Wraithlings in Baldaron’s army, their bones and skulls completely hidden beneath the dark mail.

Baldaron turned back to face Tauroc. He took a few moments to look into the eyes of every last member of the Rockclaw Tribe. The Baroso stared at the newly conjured army with still, grim expressions. “I will let you go free, now,” Baldaron began. “But you will not make your journey back to the mountains alone. Destrala and her sisters will accompany you, as will a battalion of these soldiers that I have just brought forth from the earth. They will ensure that you do not stray off your path, and that you make straight for your ridges, where, for your own well-being, you will remain for the rest of your existence. They will also serve to remind you of this—wherever the dead lie, I can raise them. I can create an army large enough to cover an entire countryside. This kingdom will eventually fall beneath my hand, and there is no force, whether it be Spiritcasters, the Hokara children and their allies, or the Rockclaw Tribe, that can ever hope to stop me. Those who challenge me, those who interfere with my conquest—I will eradicate them all.”

Baldaron’s sunken eyes bore into Tauroc, and the Rockclaw Chieftain said nothing in reply.

19

It came to Alamor suddenly, just like it had the time before when he was within the depths of the ocean. The faint echo of a distant, powerful magic reached out, whispering to him, encouraging him onward to its location. Images flashed in his mind—the sprawling desert, a citadel hewn into the face of a rocky landmass, and just briefly, the one who directed the magic to him.

Somewhere out there, Raissa continued to guide him along in their quest.

This was the fourth day that Alamor had sensed Raissa’s presence, even when she stood many miles away from him. Ever since that afternoon while the Onda pulled his party through the ocean, and he received the first direct link from Raissa’s Serenity, he had recognized a vague trace of her nearby. Although he did not always see visions like he had just now, he had still felt her Serenity in the distance. It was as if she continuously called out to him, gradually bringing them closer and closer to reuniting.

Alamor looked to the sky. There was not a single cloud hanging above the desert, and the sun continued its merciless attack as it had every day since he and his companions emerged from the ocean. On that day, Alamor had been relieved to tread on dry land again, after spending nearly two days being pulled through the water by Sharq and the other Onda scouts. Now, there was a part of him that wished to march back to the beaches and dive into the ocean to escape the Arid Reaches’ unrelenting heat.

While that temptation grew louder as the days passed by, it was immediately silenced when he saw the vision of Raissa.

Alamor glanced back at his companions, surprised to see that they lagged a considerable distance behind him; Raissa’s magical presence must have spurred him to move faster than he even realized. He stopped and decided to wait for them to catch up, setting down his sword, shield, and his crimson armor that he had been carrying on his back. He had shed his armor shortly into the journey across the desert, understanding that it would become extremely hot on the inside, an oven that threatened to roast his entire body.

Tiroku and Rawner also chose to remove their armor, while Tridian did the same for his long, thick coat. The Prince of Tordale carried his coat, his spear, as well as Tiroku’s charcoal breastplate, insisting that the Champion of Light should not be burdened by its weight. Even with the number of items he shouldered during their trek, the Prince of Tordale maintained a determined pace the entire time, only trailing behind Alamor along the way.

Hinton and Pauma saw a much greater struggle. The Bachus were understandably not at home in the desert, where their thick fur made the scorching heat almost unbearable for them. They were only able to continue alongside Alamor and the others because of the ray hide sacks that the Onda provided their group. The outside of the ray hides contained a layer of the creatures’ glimmering scales, which the Onda explained were capable of reflecting sunlight. By draping the ray hide sacks over themselves like cloaks, Hinton and Pauma were able to ward off some of the desert’s grueling heat.

Still, they had to be careful. The reflective side of the sacks became extremely hot after being exposed to the sun, and could only do so much in protecting the Bachus from the heat. Hinton and Pauma regularly strode near the back of their party, walking along at a much slower pace as they endured the sweltering conditions.

“Hey, Hinton, Pauma!” Alamor called out to them. “How are you two holding up back there?”

Panting with his tongue dangling out of his mouth, Hinton lifted his head and smiled ahead at Alamor. “We’ll be all right, lad! We don’t plan on letting this desert beat us any time soon!”

Pauma also managed to smile through her weary expression. “I know we can’t keep pace with the rest of you lot, but if we Bachus can manage to survive working in the forges you saw back at the caverns, then we’ll be able to make it through this sandy stretch of land. We just have to take it one step at a time!”

Alamor smiled in response to the Bachus’ determination. Of all the realms in Tordale, the Arid Reaches was probably the least suited to their survival. Yet in spite of what must have been an immense amount of discomfort for them, Hinton and Pauma continued to press on, never once uttering a complaint or asking for the rest of their group to slow down.

Rawner echoed the sentiment as he, Tiroku, and Tridian finally approached Alamor. “They’re a tough couple of little beasts,” the big man said, grinning. “I’m not going to lie, at first I was worried that we might have to leave them behind, but they’re holding up darn well out here. A lot better than I expected.”

Tiroku bent his gaze upward toward the sun. “Luckily for them, they’ve endured the worst of today’s heat. It won’t be more than a couple of hours until the sun starts to set and the land begins to cool down for the evening.”

Rawner’s expression bent in a mock grimace. “Thanks for reminding me about the nights around here,” The big man could not withhold a laugh before continuing. “I swear, there’s been nights in the middle of winter that were warmer than these here in the desert. What a weird part of the kingdom this is—hot enough to melt rocks during the day, and cold enough at night to freeze them solid!”

Alamor rolled his eyes at Rawner’s exaggeration. “Well, at least it gives some relief to Hinton and Pauma. For what they have to put up with during our marches in the daytime, I’m actually glad that the weather becomes more suitable for them at night.”

Tridian wiped the sweat from his brow, and let out a deep breath. “I almost look forward to whenever night comes. This heat has been especially difficult to deal with today.”

Tiroku looked at the Prince of Tordale through the corner of his eye. “It might not be so hard on you if you did not have to carry such a heavy load.”

“I’m not giving your armor back, Tiroku,” Tridian hastily replied. “I told you, there’s no reason for you to have that burden when I can manage it.”

Alamor grinned and held out his sword and shield. “While you’re at it, do you mind holding onto these for me?”

Tridian nearly laughed. “Don’t mistake my generosity for foolishness.”

By then, Hinton and Pauma finally joined them, the Bachus panting like a pair of dogs who had just been on a long run. “Thanks for waiting for us, boys,” Hinton said. “I know I’ve told you this about a thousand times now, but we really appreciate you not minding us taking our sweet time while we walk.”

Hinton may not have actually been exaggerating when he said that he told them that a thousand times. “You two are doing just fine,” Alamor told the Bachus. He turned and looked out into the distance. “Besides, it’s like Tiroku just said to us—it won’t be long until the sun starts to go down. Even better, I don’t think we have too many more days of this left. I got another message from Raissa just now. We’re getting closer to her.”

If there were any signs of weariness on his companions’ faces, Alamor saw them vanish once he mentioned that he made contact with Raissa. “You saw my sister again?” Tridian asked. “Is she safe?”

Alamor nodded. “She seems to be in no danger.”

“When exactly did you make contact with her?” Tiroku asked.

“Only a few minutes ago,” Alamor answered. “It was definitely the strongest presence I’ve felt from her since we’ve been in the desert. Maybe it was just because she summoned the most Serenity for it, but I think it’s because the distance between us is nowhere near as great as it was before. I think we’re nearing her.”

“Great things to hear all around!”  Pauma exclaimed, her eyes glowing. “I sure can’t wait until we get to see her again!”

Alamor acknowledged Pauma with a nod, but he quickly turned his gaze to Tiroku. His brow furrowed as he looked at the Champion of Light. “I likely already know the answer to this, but I’m guessing that you didn’t sense this message from Raissa, either?” he asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

Tiroku’s expression was stoic as he shook his head. “Not in the way that you did. I admit, I detected a faint semblance of Serenity, just as I did before when we were out in the ocean and the Princess first contacted you, but not clear enough that I could discern who summoned it, or where it came from. Even if I did, my Serenity is not capable of witnessing the images you must have seen this time.”

Hinton brimmed with excitement as he looked up at Alamor. “Is he right, lad? Did you see more visions this time?”

“I did,” Alamor confirmed. “Raissa showed me where she is, again. This time, it looked like she was within the outer rim of the desert, where the land wasn’t as flat and sandy. I saw huge ridges running off into the horizon, like a chain of mountains. One of the biggest had a great opening that seemed to be carved out by someone long ago. It had pillars on its sides, and steps leading up to it.”

“The Sandstone Mausoleum,” Tiroku said, a statement more than a suggestion.

Alamor nodded—it was the only possible explanation. “There were more people with her this time, too,” Alamor continued. “Joth and Dayneth were still with her, but so were many others I did not recognize. They were Aesur. They had blue skin and white feathers just like Dayneth, and they wore armor similar to hers. At least, most of them did. There was one who was dressed differently. She seemed to be Raissa’s age. She was definitely an Aesur, but she wore a dress instead of armor. Her hair was still white, but it had blue streaks in it.”

“That could be Dayneth’s younger sister, Elisstriss,” Tridian suddenly spoke up.

Everyone turned to the Prince of Tordale. All but Alamor had looks of surprise in their features.

“How can you know that?” Rawner asked.

“Dayneth told me about her once or twice when I was younger,” Tridian explained. “For as long as I’ve known Dayneth, she’s always been reluctant to speak about her family, but as children, my sister and I were so curious about her past that we always begged her to tell us about her previous life. On occasion, she told us about the younger sister who she left behind in Skyscape. Dayneth did not like to think of herself as any kind of leader to her people because of the task she took up with my family, so she always referred to her sister as ‘the true daughter of the Highfeather’. According to Dayneth, Elisstriss is almost as old as Raissa, and from a young age has harbored tremendous magic that she can use to control the air around her.”

Alamor thought back to the day several weeks ago as he rode to Tirth, where Dayneth divulged that she had a younger sister, and that her sister was a mighty Airtamer. Since finding out that day that the Aesur could manipulate the air through their magic, he continued to wonder what unthinkable feats were possible through that kind of power.

That wonder only lasted for a few moments, though, before he noticed the shadow that appeared in Tiroku’s rigid expression.

“If all of this is true that there are other Aesur with Princess Raissa, then this would be the first time in hundreds of years that such a group has descended from Skyscape,” Tiroku said, his words ominous. “With the daughter of their leader, no less.”

Hinton’s eyebrows perked. “Hundreds of years? Boy, and I thought we Bachus had holed ourselves up from the rest of the world for too long…”

“What could possibly have brought them back down to the rest of the kingdom?” Rawner asked aloud. His eyes bounced about their group, but he was only met with silence.

The hush over their party lingered. In his head, Alamor was certain that each of them had come to the same conclusion—whatever had made Elisstriss and the other Aesur return to the surface world, it was probably something to fear.

Tridian was the first of them to finally find any words. “We only have one way to find out, though, and that’s to keep moving,” the Prince of Tordale said.

“Well, we won’t keep you from that!” Hinton enthusiastically announced as he and Pauma set their pace forward. “On we go!”

Alamor and the others followed behind the two Bachus, and their party resumed their long march across the desert. Alamor once more placed himself ahead of his companions, his mind constantly staying alert for Raissa’s magical signal.

He never mentioned it to the others, but Alamor felt it very strange the way that he led them through the Arid Reaches. In truth, he guided them based on what was largely one great hunch—merely a guess on his part as to where Raissa actually was. He knew the place where she projected her Serenity to him, but if he had been asked to indicate it on any kind of map, let alone explain the route on how to get to it, he would be at a complete loss.

Their route was essentially being decided on a whim, Alamor realized. He had no idea which way they would take the next day, or even in the next hour, for that matter. Each step he took was only being determined at that very moment, based on the tiny glimpses of Serenity that called out to him from afar. For all that he knew, he might be leading his companions along a much longer, and more arduous path than was necessary. He could not know for certain.

In that way, he felt a great deal of pressure accompany his uncertainty. He understood that the vital quest to acquire the Radia—to save Tordale from Baldaron—now depended solely on his ability to follow Raissa’s magical signal and reunite their parties. It was a feat he had never attempted until just a few days ago. In fact, going as far back to his earliest days training with the Dawnwatch, he had never even thought of using his Serenity in this manner. He was still only beginning to understand the potential behind the magic that rested within him, and it was his sole responsibility to successfully perform an act that not even a mighty Spiritcaster like Tiroku could accomplish.

Alamor could not fail at this, because if at any moment he was unable to sense Raissa’s power, he would be utterly lost. There was no hope to find her or the Sandstone Mausoleum without that persistent beacon of Serenity drawing him toward her. He and the others would be doomed to aimlessly wander the treacherous desert until it finally claimed their lives.

Although that grim thought tarried in a deep corner of his mind, refusing to grant him total peace, Alamor fiercely withstood its taunts. He continued to tell himself that neither he, nor Raissa, would falter. He believed that she would stay strong enough to continue projecting her magical presence to him, and that he had grown so much as a Spiritcaster in just the last few days that he would continue to support his end of the link between he and Raissa.

He could not be entirely sure what fate awaited him, but he had to trust that he and Raissa would succeed together.

* * * * *

They traveled over the desert for a few more hours that day. Just like Tiroku surmised earlier, the intense heat waned as the afternoon gave way to dusk. This made the march far less trying on Hinton and Pauma, but it also was the beginning of yet another cold night that threatened to chill Alamor, Tiroku, Rawner, and Tridian to the bone.

Their group finally came upon a spot in the desert that offered some relief. The last remnants of a pond sat within the sands, a muddy bowl that held just enough water to make a small pool. Sights like these had been common during Alamor’s time in the desert. In another era, before Scourge’s rampage, the water sources would have been bountiful, their life-giving touch sprouting verdant vegetation all around them. Those pockets of water that withstood the calamity now fought on to remain in this unnatural environment, where they were surrounded by seas of sand and rock. It was as though they endured for no other purpose than to perchance be the saving grace for what living thing strolled past them in a march across the barren land.

The oasis offered just enough for Alamor’s company to refill the water hides given to them by the Onda. A handful of trees struggled to stand along the banks of the dried up pond, their trunks long withered, and their branches bereft of any leaves or buds. The bark about their barren frames was still fairly thick, however. Alamor and the others hewed several of the fattest limbs, and used the wood to start a fire in their campsite. The flames brought welcome warmth that they had not experienced at night in several days. Before, they simply had to endure the long, chill hours and the icy gales that raced across the desert when darkness fell.

They ate some of the rations that the Onda had provided them for their trip. The more delectable foods that they had eaten while staying at Onda Reef—various fish, clams, shellfish—would spoil during a lengthy journey, especially through an environment as extreme as the Arid Reaches. They were gifted primarily with kelp and soft coral that the Onda had farmed into edible foods over the ages. Normally, such things pulled from the ocean would be unsafe for a human or a Bachu to eat. Most would not even be very nutritious for the Onda, but the ocean-dwelling reptiles cultivated many different aquatic plants and coral within the freshwater pools and streams around Onda Reef to make them suitable for consumption. By transitioning the food sources from the salty ocean waters to the mineral-rich soil and waters on their island, the Onda created crops that could be eaten by any creature, and contained a number of nutrients that strengthened the body.

The rations’ tastes to a human, or a Bachu, were bland at best. The kelp’s consistency was fairly close to that of lettuce. The soft coral was not so accurately named, appearing and tasting like sticks of dry, stiff bread. Still, these food items could stay fresh for days on end, and provided substantial energy with their potent nutrients. Alamor and his companions were merely thankful to have any food to fill their stomachs. They had found almost nothing to eat within the desert during their journey. If not for the Onda’s generous amenities, they could have starved just days into their trek.

Tiroku, Tridian, and Rawner soon fell asleep after their light supper. In addition to the roaring fire nearby, they stayed warm with some of the belongings they already had with them. Tridian wrapped himself tightly in his long, purple coat, while Tiroku and Rawner covered themselves with the ray hide sacks that Hinton and Pauma wore earlier. The scale-side of the sacks stayed warm long after they spent hours exposed to the desert’s bright sunlight, acting like a hot blanket for Tiroku and Rawner to slumber beneath.

Alamor offered to spend the first half of the night taking watch over their campsite. He sat by the campfire while the others slept, wrapped in his silvery cape and Tiroku’s evergreen cloak as he stared into the flames.

The Bachus kept him company, with Hinton staying awake to tinker with some of his remaining blast orbs. Pauma sat by his side, diligently assisting her husband where she could. According to Hinton, he had used up well over half of the blast orbs that he brought with him from the Bachu Caverns—including his original satchel when he tossed it at Saphos—and he was keen on making sure that he did not run out before the end of their journey. As he sat near the campfire, he worked carefully to displace some of the blast orbs’ ignidust into empty casings. By his own admission, this would temper the explosions from his remaining blast orbs, but it at least granted Hinton more of the unique weapons to carry with him for the remainder of their quest.

Alamor could only marvel at the Bachus as he watched them through the corner of his eye. Even after the exhausting trek that day, Hinton and Pauma did not appear to be the least bit tired. If anything, they were more lively than they were at any other time. The cooler nights always refreshed the two, seemingly injecting them with a burst of energy. Tonight, it proved to rejuvenate them so much that they indulged in the meticulous labor surrounding Hinton’s blast orbs without so much as a yawn.

They actually seemed to be more concerned with Alamor as their work went on. “Are you sure you’re not cold over there, lad?” Hinton asked at one point, taking a moment to look up from the blast orb that he deconstructed.

Alamor smiled. “Trust me, I’m fine. This fire is keeping me plenty warm.”

“Just be careful over there,” Pauma added. “You’re sitting awfully close. We don’t need those capes you’re wearing to catch a spark and go up in flames.”

A grin stretched across Alamor’s face as he looked over at the Bachus. “If anyone should be careful about getting too close to the fire, it should be those of us holding a bunch of bombs in their hands.”

Both Hinton and Pauma immediately threw their heads back and laughed. They quickly quieted themselves a moment later when they remembered that the rest of their group slept just a few yards away from them. But they could not keep every last giggle from escaping their lips. “You got a good point there, lad, I’ll give you that one,” Pauma replied. As her laughter died, she looked into the blazing campfire. “I’ll tell you, though, it sure is nice to have this at night, again. I don’t think I realized until now how much I missed having a good, warm fire when the sun goes down.”

“I thought you two liked the cold nights out here, though?”

“We do, but it’s the dark that we don’t enjoy,” Hinton clarified. “Things are always a lot better when you’re not surrounded by shadow in every direction that you look, I say.”

“That sounds pretty ironic coming from two creatures who live underground.”

The grin across Hinton’s snout indicated that he understood Alamor’s good-natured joke. “That’s why we have all of those lanterns hanging from the cavern ceilings! Without them, those halls would be blacker than the night out here. We probably wouldn’t spend two minutes inside!”

“So, what’s the perfect kind of weather for a Bachu, then? A sunny day in the middle of winter?”

Alamor had meant for his comment to be another joke more than anything, but Hinton and Pauma both shared a glance, as if they silently consulted with one another. Eventually, both Bachus nodded.

“Yep, that sounds about right to me!” Pauma answered. “We Bachus love the snow. It barely even feels cold, what with all of our fur. Winter is one of the few times of the year that we even consider romping about Sleekleaf Forest away from our caverns.”

“Of course, the ground is a different story—that gets cold in a real hurry, especially our tunnels,” Hinton added. “Our caverns would probably be freezing during the winter, but luckily we got our forges to warm up the place!”

Alamor smiled as he thought back to the time where Hinton led him and his other friends straight into the sweltering forges of the Bachu Caverns after escaping the pack of Narogas. “I remember just how hot those forges were. It still amazes me how you Bachus could work in there without passing out, and it’s not as if you had any ray hide from the Onda to keep you cooler. I’m getting too warm just sitting next to this fire right now.” Alamor unwrapped his cape and Tiroku’s cloak from his body and set them aside. Although he only wore a sleeveless undershirt and his armored leggings, he felt more comfortable beside the roaring campfire.

“Yikes!” Hinton suddenly blurted. “What’s that on your arm, lad?”

Alamor was briefly alarmed by the Bachu’s apparent dismay, but when he glanced down at his arm, he immediately knew what Hinton asked about—the long scar running from his shoulder down to his elbow. “It’s just a scar,” Alamor answered, deliberately trying to sound unconcerned with it. “I’ve had it for over a year now, but the wound healed well enough.”

Pauma’s eyes narrowed as she stared across the campsite, seemingly studying the faded wound. “Looks like it was originally a nasty cut you had there. What’d you ever get that from?”

She was left waiting for a response. It was almost as if time came to a standstill for Alamor as he sat there in silence, pondering what answer he would give Pauma. He had lost track a long while ago of how many peopled asked him about the origin of his scar, as well as the number of different stories he came up with explaining how he got it. Sometimes, he told people that it had been from a training session that got out of hand at the Dawnwatch’s Spirit Shrine. Other times, he told them that he fell during a march across the countryside. He could easily tell the Bachus one of those phony accounts and never return to the subject with them again.

But for the first time that he could remember, and for reasons he could not explain, Alamor was not afraid to tell the truth. It was as if at some point during his journey for the Radia, his humiliation over the incident that injured him had suddenly vanished. He felt no reluctance in telling Hinton and Pauma the frightening story that he had kept secret for more than a year.

Alamor decided right at that very moment that it was finally time to stop lying about how he got his scar.

“It happened shortly after I returned to Geldiar, when I quit my training to become a Spiritcaster,” he finally answered. “I went out by myself one day into the Plains of Oston and found a plateau with a very steep cliff face. It must have been about fifty feet tall, maybe taller. I took off my armor, set down my sword and shield, and started climbing. I climbed, and I climbed, and I climbed. I was maybe halfway up when I hesitated, and I lost my grip. I slid down along the cliff face, and my arm caught some jagged rock as I was falling. It tore me open right away. Things could have been a lot worse, though, if I hadn’t managed to catch hold before I fell too far. My arm hurt pretty bad, and the cut was bleeding a lot, but I eventually managed to lower myself back down to the ground safely.”

“That all sounds like a pretty dangerous stunt on your part,” Hinton said, his voice carrying his disapproval. “What in stone and soil’s name were you trying to do making a climb like that?”

Alamor never took his blank eyes off the dancing flames before him. “I was planning to jump from the top.”

He could hear the blast orbs fall out of the Bachus’ paws and into the sand. Although he did not turn to look at Hinton and Pauma, Alamor could imagine the appalled expressions that must have taken over their faces.

“Oh, lad…why would you ever do such a thing?” Pauma asked, tremendous concern in her words.

“I wanted to escape all of the pain in my life at that time,” Alamor answered. “I felt so useless back then, like I didn’t offer anything worthwhile to this world anymore. I abandoned my training to become a King’s Fang to try and become a Spiritcaster, because I was so sure that I could control my magic. When I failed, I felt as if I made the biggest mistake of life, and I had no idea how I could correct it. Of course, I went on to make far greater mistakes soon after that…”

Through the corner of his eye, Alamor noticed Hinton and Pauma slowly approach him. When they settled at his side, he could see the saddened looks in their eyes.

“But you must have had all of your friends and family supporting you back then, right?” Hinton asked. “I mean, I see it now—you’ve got lots of great pals. They must have tried to help you when you were down, didn’t they?”

“Many of them did, but I was so lost that I couldn’t recognize it or appreciate it,” Alamor answered. “Tiroku wanted me to stay with him and continue to train with the Dawnwatch, because he always knew that I could one day achieve mastery over my Serenity, but I didn’t believe him, and I didn’t believe in myself.” Alamor lifted his gaze from the fire and pointed it to star-laden sky high above the desert. “Besides that, I was so hurt by my parents’ death that I could hardly focus on anything else.”

A quiet gasp escaped Pauma. “Oh, dear, we never knew that your mom and dad weren’t alive anymore.” She paused, more of what seemed to be hesitation on her part before speaking again. “Do you mind if I ask what happened to them?”

“They died while I was away training to become a Spiritcaster,” Alamor explained. “According to the other townsfolk where I lived, there was a powerful storm that moved across the countryside one day, and it rained so much that it made a nearby river flood and turn into violent rapids. There were families that lived near that river, and some people from my town, including my parents, went to go help them flee the area. A few children nearly got swept up by the river, so my parents dove into the water to save them. The children got out safe. My parents…they were swept away and never made it out. They were heroes; but they never got to see me accomplish anything. I never even got to say goodbye to them.”

As another hush fell over their conversation, Hinton and Pauma looked at one another, silently debating whether they should ask the next question that was clearly both on their minds. It was Hinton who eventually worked up the nerve to say it. “Is all of this what made you and the Princess keep from talking to each other for a while?”

Alamor was briefly surprised by the question, as he had never told the Bachus about the time he was apart from Raissa. However, he soon came to the realization of how they must have known. “Yes. Raissa told you about that when you talked to her after our fight on the Balcryst, didn’t she?”

The Bachus replied with silent nods. They seemed to be more upset by knowing that unfortunate part of Alamor’s past than any other.

Alamor let out a deep sigh as his eyes fell to the sandy ground. “Raissa was the only reason that I attempted to become a Spiritcaster, in the first place. She was by far the most encouraging and the most supportive person that I knew, and she was absolutely certain that I would be able to accomplish it. Honestly, I only believed that I could do it because she believed that I could do it. I wanted more than anything in the world to make her proud…so when I failed at the Spirit Shrine, I felt like I let her down.”

Alamor stopped and realized that what he was about to say next was something else that he concealed for the longest time—the answer that he was too afraid to tell Raissa a few weeks ago in Caldeya when she asked him why he never tried to reconnect with her while they were apart.

“There was also a part of me that was angry with her. I was so disappointed with what happened at the Spirit Shrine, so upset that I failed, that I desperately looked for an excuse other than my own failings. So I cast blame on others, and one of those people was Raissa. I blamed her for getting my hopes up, as if she had encouraged me to go after a goal that I never truly had a chance of realizing. I had those thoughts for a while, until I came that close to killing myself. After that, I finally began to think straight again. I understood how foolish my anger at Raissa was. I was so ashamed of myself for it, and the attempt to end my life, that I didn’t feel like I deserved to see her again.”

Alamor glanced over at the Bachus when he heard what he was sure was Pauma sniffling. He could see that she was holding back tears, but Pauma also managed a stern look on her face. “Well, I hope you understand now to never do something like that again,” she said, pointing a stiff finger at him as her strong voice occasionally cracked. “I don’t mean to yell at you after talking about all of those sad memories, but I just don’t want to ever hear you think that taking your life is the answer to anything. It never is! You got too many duties to see to in this world, and more importantly, too many wonderful people that you mean a whole lot to!”

Alamor smiled at Pauma. He did not think of her words so much as a scolding, but as both a determined attempt on her part to pass on a vital piece of wisdom, as well as a show of love and appreciation for him.

In a way, he felt like it was his mother trying to speak through Pauma.

“You don’t have to worry, I’m never going to try that again,” Alamor assured her. “I decided on that the very moment I caught myself after I almost fell off of that plateau. I’ll never forget how terrified I was when I realized what I had almost done. Once I got back down to the ground and did my best to treat the cut on my arm, I just laid there for hours, trying to make sense of what happened. I couldn’t believe how I came that close to ending my own life. The realization hit me all at once how much I would have been throwing away, and I knew that no matter how miserable I might be, it would never be worth it to abandon my future altogether.”

Most of the austerity had faded from Pauma’s features by then. She gave Alamor several nods of approval as she wiped away her remaining tears. “Well good, I’m darn glad to hear that,” she said, piecing together her composure. “I never want to see a young’n like you thinking that you got nothing to live for. There’s always something to be thankful about, I say, and you never know what great thing life might have for you around the corner, next!”

“I agree,” Alamor said. “I’ve come to understand that better than anyone over the last few weeks. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the fact that none of this would be happening if that jump off the plateau had actually ended how I originally wanted. I wouldn’t have reconnected with Raissa, I wouldn’t have learned to control my Serenity, and I wouldn’t be on this mission to save the entire kingdom, to fulfill the Legend of Light. I obviously had something very important destined for me; I’m glad I didn’t miss it.”

Hinton smiled widely as he patted Alamor on the shoulder, making what seemed like a deliberate note to touch the one without the scar. “That’s my boy! You definitely got what it takes to be a hero, and I say this part with all honesty—I’m sure honored to be along on this journey to see it happen.”

Alamor took Hinton’s paw in a brotherly, gracious clasp. “And I’m honored that you both decided to come with us. I can’t thank you two enough for all that you’ve done, even just for Raissa and I.”

Pauma placed her own paws over Alamor’s and Hinton’s friendly clasp. “We wouldn’t have it any other way, lad,” she told him, a smile reaching from one end of her snout to the other. “Don’t you worry. That magic sense of yours is going to bring you and the Princess back together soon enough. I’m positive of it!”

Alamor returned a similarly broad smile to Pauma. “It really means a lot to me to hear you say that.”

Hinton eased back. He squared up where he sat, and something of a rakish grin came over his face. “You know, it may not be my place to ask this, but it’s been on my mind ever since I met you two kids, and I can tell you for sure that it’s been on Pauma’s mind, as well. You and the Princess…I realize you two are friends…but is that exactly what you think of her?”

Alamor knew what Hinton was trying to glean from him. It was hardly the first time someone had asked Alamor that question. In the past, it always made Alamor incredibly uncomfortable; he could think of countless instances where he had frozen up in embarrassment. His face would turn as red as his armor, and he would stumble on his words to speak a futile fib.

But this time, Alamor did not feel the slightest bit awkward about it. He actually felt a tinge of satisfaction coming over him. “I’m madly in love with her.”

The blunt, honest response sent Hinton falling back with a hearty guffaw. Alamor was quite amused at the Bachu’s reaction. “I knew it!” Hinton said, making sure to quiet his laughter as not to wake the others. “Nothing wrong with a guy and girl being good friends, but I had no doubt in my wild mind that you’re crazy for the young lass!”

Pauma rolled her eyes at her husband’s remarks. “I think anyone who sees the two of them together could have figured that out,” she said, and glanced at Alamor. “No offense, lad.”

Alamor shrugged nonchalantly. “None taken.”

“But this begs another question, if you don’t mind,” Pauma continued. “Have you ever told her about this?”

Alamor’s smile quickly grew rigid. “Nope.”

“And what about the Princess?” Pauma pressed. “I can see it in her that she’s not exactly platonic about you, either. Has she ever told you what’s brewing in her heart?”

All Alamor could do was shake his head in response.

“Well, why in blazes not!?” Pauma suddenly burst out. It was as if she was genuinely exasperated to hear that Alamor and Raissa had never pursued their feelings for one another.

Alamor veered his sheepish expression from Pauma’s frustrated gaze. “There’s a few different reasons for it, at least on my end,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“I doubt any of them justify it,” Pauma shot back.

“I mean, you’re probably right,” Alamor conceded. “For the longest time, I didn’t say anything because I felt that there was no possible way for the Princess of the kingdom and a simple soldier to be together. It’s one thing for royalty to secretly love a common citizen, but it’s a whole other matter to have a public romance. I was also terrified of being rejected, especially as the years went on where we were friends. Once that truth gets out, there’s no taking it back, and if Raissa didn’t—or couldn’t—reciprocate it, well, our friendship would become the most awkward friendship in the world.”

“Yet, she never found anyone else, now did she?” Pauma pointed out.

It’s like Pauma’s an expert on this subject… Alamor thought to himself, almost stupefied by how the Bachu was able to read him. “No. In all of the years that I’ve known Raissa, she’s never found herself a suitor. Even during that time when we didn’t see each other.”

Pauma’s expression softened. She was not trying to tease or badger Alamor any longer. She was entirely sincere. “That sounds to me like she’s determined to wait for the perfect fella—and that’s you.”

“I’m not really sure if a mission to save the entire kingdom is the right time to be proclaiming my love to her,” Alamor said dryly.

Hinton nearly leapt back to his feet. “All the more incentive, then, for us to find the Princess and see this adventure through! Once this is all over with, and your jobs are done, you can let her know what’s really welling up in that heart of yours. I have to agree with the wife on this one—it sure sounds like fate has a plan in mind to make sure you two are together for life!”

Alamor could not help but smile. Everything that Hinton said sounded overdramatic. Yet Alamor found himself being persuaded by the Bachus’ combined encouragement. “Maybe when this is all done, I’ll finally tell her.”

Pauma nodded approvingly. “You better. And by the earth and sky, lad, I truly hope it all works out for you two.”

Alamor acknowledged Pauma’s earnest words graciously before he looked out into the horizon. Below lay the cold, murky desert, and above was the endless night sky, where thousands of distant galaxies and stars radiated within the darkness.

Between them was Raissa’s magical presence that still called out to him.

Alamor had believed for a few days that he would find his way to Raissa, but Pauma and Hinton had made him that much more confident that he would soon be reunited with her—and he was never more eager to see her than he was now.

20

“Hey, what do you think that is over there?” Rawner asked aloud.

Alamor looked in the direction where Rawner pointed. A group of dark, block-like objects stood in the otherwise empty stretch of desert not half a mile from where they stood. Alamor squinted his eyes to get a clearer view into the hazy horizon, but he could not make out any more detail on the shapes.

“I can’t really tell,” Alamor admitted, and let out a great yawn. For some reason, he did not sleep very well the night before following his long conversation with the Bachus. Even though it was nearly noon, he still had not quite regained his bearings. “A bunch of boulders, maybe?”

Rawner did not appear to agree. “I don’t know, they seem awfully large to just be boulders,” he said, still staring ahead at them.

The Bachus joined Alamor and Rawner and also stopped to peer into the distance. Their eyes narrowed until they were nearly closed before Hinton spoke up. “They’re not boulders from what I can see. Nope, if I’m not mistaken, those are houses!”

“Houses?” Alamor blurted in disbelief. “Are you sure?”

“Yep, I’m seeing the same thing as him!” Pauma answered. “Those are definitely houses sitting out there.”

One of Hinton’s paws reached out from underneath the ray hide sack draped over his body as he pointed ahead. “If you can manage to look real close, you can see the roofs on them, and there’s even a couple of windows on their sides,” Hinton explained.

“I’m not going to be able to see any of that from here,” Alamor said flatly. “I’ll just take your word for it.”

Rawner squinted for a few moments before ultimately giving up, also. “Yeah, I guess I’ll have to do the same.” He glanced at the Bachus and grinned. “If you two are right, then those are some good eyes you both got in your skulls—far better vision than I could ever hope to have.”

“Well, it’s certainly not as keen as someone like Dayneth’s,” Pauma said humbly, “but the Bachus have developed respectable vision over the ages. I’m pretty sure it’s been to help us keep on the lookout for nasty foes while we Bachus have explored the wilderness.”

Once Tiroku and Tridian caught up to the rest of their group, Alamor started forward in the direction of the looming shapes. Within just a few minutes he was able to see them more clearly, and he realized that Hinton was correct about them being houses. While he still could not make out their finer details, such as the rooftops and the windows that the Bachu mentioned, Alamor noticed that there were several more than he initially imagined. Smaller structures slowly appeared to his eyes within the shadows of larger ones, and clusters of other buildings ran off behind those in the very front. It soon became apparent that they were approaching some kind of town.

Alamor immediately developed mixed thoughts. On one hand, this was the first settlement that they had come upon during their five days in the Arid Reaches. Up until now, the only other living creatures they had seen were various small animals. Coming into contact with other people could provide them with much needed supplies, including food and water, as well as knowledge on how to get to the Sandstone Mausoleum faster.

He also had reservations. There was no guarantee that the people of the town would be welcoming of his party. In fact, they could be hostile. This was not the Azure Sands Outpost, and Alamor knew that anything north of the military fort was said to be populated mostly by bandits and outlaws.

But as Alamor and his companions began to approach the outskirts of the isolated town, he dismissed both thoughts. It quickly became apparent that the town had long been abandoned by whoever may have once lived there.

Much of it was covered by a thick blanket of sand that looked to have accumulated over a span of many years, rising into sheer dunes atop the roofs and burying the pathways between buildings. The sand stood so high in many spots that only the vague outlines of smaller structures could be seen beneath it. The buildings that still managed to stand in open air were largely in disrepair, or outright devastated. Their doorways lay open, most of them seemingly smashed in. Gutters, tiles, and wooden beams hung listlessly from their rooftops. The entire sides of some were charred and blackened, while other structures had gaping holes and large gashes in their stone walls. In a few cases, the damage was so great that Alamor realized that what he had originally perceived as windows were actually missing portions of a building’s exterior.

“This place has certainly seen better days,” Rawner said lowly, as his eyes scanned the devastation. Even he seemed to be unnerved by the sight.

“I sure hope this didn’t happen recently,” Pauma said, glancing about nervously. “I’d hate to run into whatever made this mess.”

Tiroku started forward and entered the rubble-ridden street before them. “I doubt we have to worry about that,” Tiroku assured her, his brow furrowing as he examined the ravaged buildings. “It appears that no one has stepped foot within this place in a very long time.”

“Well, whoever was here last apparently didn’t want no one else here ever again…” Hinton muttered as he and the others began to follow behind Tiroku. “Sheesh—and I thought the weather around here was the worst part about the desert…”

“It does not surprise me that we eventually found this,” Tridian said, a trace of disgust in his voice. “The most dangerous things about this part of the kingdom are what live here. This desert has been home to packs of criminals for hundreds of years. They know no order, no morals. They only live to ensure their own survival, even if it means slaughtering those who mean them no harm.”

Alamor was somewhat surprised by the venom in Tridian’s words. “You think it was bandits who ransacked this town?”

Tridian continued to look about the devastation around them while he answered Alamor. “Nothing else could cause this kind of destruction. Sandstorms do not ruin buildings this way, nor do wandering beasts, no matter how many of them there may be.”

“Are you positive of that, your Highness?” Hinton asked. “We’ve seen some fearsome monsters the last few weeks, and I’ve heard stories of many more throughout the kingdom in my time.”

“If that were the case, there wouldn’t be anything left of this town for us to look at,” Tridian said, his voice cold. He stopped and pointed at a nearby home that had a massive gap torn into its side. “This kind of damage wasn’t created by any kind of living hands—that’s a blast mark from cannon fire. I’d say that just about all of these buildings were bombarded at some point.”

Hinton scurried over to the structure that the Prince of Tordale had indicated. The Bachu spent a few moments inspecting the damage, pressing his nose right against its stone surface as he tried to pick up a scent. “Well I’ll be; you’re right about this, your Highness,” Hinton eventually called back. His tone suggested that he was impressed by Tridian’s astute observation. “There’s even some powder burns still lingering over here. This is definitely the aftermath of an explosive blast if I’ve ever seen it, and you lot know how much experience I got with that!”

“So then,” Rawner said, turning as he looked all about their surroundings. “If this place really was raided and pillaged, what for?”

“Maybe the people here were hiding a valuable resource,” Alamor suggested. “Perhaps they built this town around a mine?”

“I doubt that,” Tridian quickly interjected. “By the looks of it, this town was very poor. The people here must have struggled simply to survive in this desert.”

Rawner raised an eyebrow at Tridian’s statement. “How in the world can you tell anything about what this place was like before with the condition it’s in now?”

“Take a look at the buildings that are still standing,” Tridian calmly answered. As Rawner and the others more closely inspected the structures around them, the Prince of Tordale continued. “Most of them were clearly ramshackle long before they were blasted with cannon fire. You can see that many of their rooftops were comprised from a mess of different materials; wooden planks, tiles, even some thin sheets of metal. These people covered their homes with whatever was available to them.” Tridian then approached the building he indicated earlier, the same that Hinton inspected for blast damage. The Prince of Tordale knocked on the stone exterior with his knuckles. “Whatever kind of stone they used for the frames of these buildings tells me the same—it’s soft and brittle. If I took my spear to this enough times, I would be able to eventually gouge it. There’s also very little in the way of mortar inside these walls. They didn’t construct any of these brick by brick like you see in settlements elsewhere throughout the kingdom.”

Tiroku eventually turned his gaze away from what was behind them and looked out to the remainder of the town. “Regardless of whether this town knew wealth or poverty, it may still have amenities that could be of great use to us,” the Champion of Light said. “Given how meager our supplies are, just about anything could help us for the rest of our journey. Look for blankets, shawls, canvas, even old tools or flints. I doubt anything edible remains here, but there may be also be preservatives stored in some of these houses—spices and salts.”

“You want us to split up and snoop around to see what we can find here?” Pauma asked.

Tiroku nodded. “Yes, but stay in pairs. Even though this town seems abandoned, there’s no telling if something may still be hiding somewhere. Be cautious, everyone.”

Hinton and Pauma immediately headed off together in one direction, while Rawner offered to accompany Tiroku as they explored the rest of the settlement, leaving Alamor and Tridian as the last team. The Prince of Tordale started down a cluttered street without so much as a word to the rest of the group.

Alamor followed behind and let Tridian lead the way. He was actually glad that they ended up being paired together, as he was both intrigued and somewhat worried by the bitterness that Tridian displayed earlier. Once they had walked a fair distance from the others, Alamor decided to address the reticent Prince of Tordale.

“Something’s got you rattled about this place, Tridian.” He could think of no better way to approach the subject rather than to be straightforward about it.

Tridian continued walking, but he glanced back at Alamor and nodded. There was a calm look over his face that suggested he was both unsurprised by the question, and that he understood Alamor’s concerns. “I’ll be fine,” he answered, and turned back to the sand-covered street that they tread. “It’s just that seeing this brings back a lot of memories of my father—not all of them good ones.”

Alamor was taken aback by the answer. It was a few moments before the surprise wore off and he found the words to speak again. “How does this town make you think of your father?”

“Because my father greatly despised the kind of lawlessness and savagery that eventually destroyed this town,” Tridian began. As they continued walking, his morose eyes scanned the ruins about them. “Without even seeing it for himself, he knew the chaos that festered here, and he made it his goal to be the first man in Tordale’s history to finally confront it.”

Alamor knew what Tridian alluded to. “You mean the mission to reclaim this desert, don’t you?”

The Prince of Tordale nodded. “My father’s wish was to see order brought to every corner of the Arid Reaches. While outlaws may have claimed most of this territory following Scourge’s rampage, my father knew that they were peaceful, innocent people who lived here. They may not have been great in number, but he believed it to be his responsibility to one day bring them the same kind of protection that his rule brought to all other peoples throughout the kingdom. In doing so, not only would he create peace, he would also create a purpose for this desert. If he could eradicate the chaos that engulfed this region, then we could finally utilize the Arid Reaches’ resources to benefit all life across Tordale, like the many metal and gem deposits that were once mined here.”

“Of course,” Tridian continued, a hint of regret joining his words, “My father realized that such a task was an immense one, especially because he could only make use of a portion of our military during his time. To send the majority of our forces into this uncharted territory would have reduced our defenses elsewhere. That is why one of the very first things he had our troops accomplish was to establish the Azure Sands Outpost. By securing that part of the desert, it would allow us to contain the bands of criminals and other bandits. That, in turn, would buy us a great deal of time. We would be able to carry out the remainder of the operation at our own pace, saving us untold resources, manpower, and who knows how many lives.”

Alamor briefly thought back to the conversation he had with Tiroku many weeks ago while they rode from Geldiar to Caldeya. “It also set up a barrier between the desert and the rest of Tordale, right? It kept the lawlessness from ever slipping into other parts of the kingdom.”

“That’s correct,” Tridian affirmed. “Unfortunately, it was just about the extent to which my father realized his goal. He was able to reclaim the land up to the Sandstone Mausoleum, but he had hoped to spend several years after that spreading his influence until all of the Arid Reaches was under his control—years that he never got to see.”

The Prince of Tordale went silent for a few moments after referring to King Aurilion Hokara’s untimely death. When he began to speak again, the anger and bitterness that he previously showed had returned. “What has bothered me so much about seeing this town is that it also reminds me of the ignorant people who chastised my father for his mission.”

“But they must have been only a very small minority,” Alamor offered, almost in an attempt to sooth Tridian. “Your father’s judgment was revered by the people throughout the kingdom.”

“They were a minority, yes, but they were very vocal about their disapproval, especially because many of them were the very politicians that my father consulted with on a regular basis,” Tridian said. “They were also very cruel with their words, often referring to my father as being ‘naïve’ or ‘blinded with ambition’. If it had been a different man sitting in my father’s role, he may have had those people imprisoned for slandering the King of Tordale. But those fools knew that my father was too honorable of a man to ever consider punishing someone simply for their dissent, so they criticized him often, in public, and even in his presence.”

It was a difficult thought for Alamor to accept. “I can’t imagine how anyone rational person could have ever felt that way about your father.”

“I used to think the same,” Tridian replied. “But I eventually learned that in this world, if some people adore you, then it likely means that others hate you.” The Prince of Tordale stopped in the middle of the road, where a mound in the sand sat just before his feet. He stared at it for a few moments before drawing his spear. “Those who mocked my father’s mission believed that it was a waste of the kingdom’s military and resources,” Tridian went on. “I remember some of them saying that the lives of the peaceful folk in the Arid Reaches were not worth any sacrifices we may make to protect them, whether it came in the form of our money or our soldiers.”

As he finished, Tridian stuck the butt of his spear into the mound’s base and began to lift. Alamor watched with curiosity as the Prince of Tordale pried free whatever lay beneath. When enough of the sand had slid away, it revealed something wrapped in an old, ashy cloak. Initially, Alamor had not been sure what it was, until he noticed the skeletonized hands and feet reaching out from underneath the cloak. As he looked over the rest of the shape, he realized it was a long-perished body lying face-first in the sand.

Alamor felt his body grow cold for a moment as he looked back the way they came. He only now noticed several other small mounds rising in the sand. When he looked ahead, he saw even more.

Tridian gently set the body back down. “Maybe if those politicians had seen the horrors that haunted this region, they would have thought differently of what my father was trying to accomplish.”

Putting away his spear, Tridian started forward without another word.

Alamor did not immediately follow, but stayed behind as he tried to fend off the grim sensation that fell over him. While continuing to glance about at his ruined surroundings, he noticed a nearby home that was missing almost half of its façade—decimated by cannon fire, he presumed. He began to walk toward it, deciding that he needed to place his thoughts on something other than the grisly discovery that Tridian made in the streets.

When he came to the house, he ascended a wall of sand that built up against the ruined façade. Alamor slid down the other side and landed in a large, shadowy room. It was almost completely empty, save for debris that had been tossed inside by the wind. The room itself seemed to make up the entire first floor of the building; there weren’t any kind of closets, cupboards, or other alcoves as far as Alamor could spot.

The layout of the room supported Tridian’s earlier assumption that the people of the town had not been very wealthy. The simple design of the home’s interior suggested that the townsfolk did not have the knowledge or materials necessary to construct a house as other humans throughout the kingdom did. What little furniture that did fill the space was decrepit, and likely had been that way long before it sat neglected for years after the town was ransacked.

The only thing of note inside that Alamor could discern was a stairway in the far corner that climbed to the second floor of the home. But as Alamor started to approach it, he finally noticed that the room was not entirely empty.

Crouched within the shadows beneath the stairs were the remains of two more townsfolk. They lay slumped against the wall, their skeletons wrapped in cloaks that were made out of some kind of thick, coarse fabric. Unlike the body that Tridian unearthed, their heads were not covered. The empty eye sockets in their skulls stared back at Alamor blankly. Their jaws lay agape, as if uttering a silent scream for all eternity.

It was like the skulls were a reminder of the gruesome fate that had befallen the two people.

This was not the first time that Alamor had seen a human skull. In addition to the huge, undead warrior that he battled in Vosk Woods during his and Raissa’s trip to Tirth, he had seen one many years ago out in the Plains of Oston while returning to Geldiar with several other soldiers after a scouting exercise. At one point they came upon an unlucky traveler who had not survived his trek through the countryside. His mangled body lay in a thick pack of brush, the victim of wolves or some other predator.

Back then, Alamor had been so aghast by the sight that he could hardly stand to look at it for very long. Now, he could stare at the skulls with relative calm, even though he still felt a chill run over his skin as he gazed at the dead bodies.

Meanwhile, one question continued to repeat itself in his head.

What actually happened to this place?

His thoughts were broken a few moments later when he heard a deep, baying noise somewhere outside. He turned and hurried out of the destroyed home. When he emerged from the wreckage, he tried to spot the source of the strange sound, but to no avail. He only saw Tridian standing nearby, glancing about with a similarly concerned expression on his face.

“Did you hear that?” Alamor called out to him.

“Yes, but I have no idea where it came from,” Tridian answered, as his eyes bounced in all directions.

The noise rang out once again. Alamor was certain that it came from some kind of animal, but he could not imagine what, or where the creature may have been. His and Tridian’s views were blocked by the many tightly packed buildings surrounding them. He hurried back over the wall of sand, into the destroyed house, and ran up the stairs to the second floor. It granted him a better view of his surroundings. Not only was a section of the roof missing, but so were the walls for about half of the upper room. With the missing portions of the house acting as one great window, Alamor began to search the nearby streets in an attempt to discover what may have made the mysterious sound. It was only once his eyes looked beyond the town, itself, that he finally spotted its origin.

A little more than a hundred yards from where he stood, a herd of unfamiliar animals grazed peacefully at a grove of palm trees on the outskirts of the ruined settlement. There may have been thirty or more. They were fairly large creatures, shaped liked elk, but with far longer necks. Their legs were also very long, and ended in feet that resembled hands, based on the gap between each lanky toe. Rich, brown fur ran over their bodies, while a set of white stripes raced over their thick flanks. Their heads featured a pair of drooping horns that ran down over the back of their necks.

It took Alamor a few moments to realize that he had seen these creatures before—at least on Joth’s shield. These must have been the Grimali that he and Joth had spoken about those many weeks ago. Alamor smiled and nearly began to laugh to himself after initially being worried about what was making the baying call that the Grimali occasionally uttered.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he came to the very edge of the second floor and stopped to watch the peaceful beasts. They did little more than stand in one spot and casually grab leaves from the palm trees—which they then chewed on for what seemed like an excessive amount of time—but Alamor quickly developed great interest in the Grimali. He found them to be beautiful creatures, particularly because of how they had adapted to survive in a region as unforgiving as the Arid Reaches. Using their long necks, they were able to reach food that would have been inaccessible to most other creatures. If by some chance that was not enough, their hand-like feet were able to clasp onto most surfaces. Alamor noticed some of them place their front feet against the palm trees’ trunks to stand just a little bit higher in order to grab the leaves that lay at the pinnacle of the trees.

The grove was perhaps the lushest sight that Alamor had seen in his days traversing the Arid Reaches. The palm trees’ trunks appeared thick, and their long, green leaves were in stark contrast to the brown, dry surroundings in most directions. They were nourished by an oasis that lay at the town’s edge. Water bubbled up from an underground spring, filling most of a sizable crater. Alamor imagined that this natural reservoir was even more bountiful in the time before Scourge blighted the region. It explained why such a large town had been built in this particular spot. Even if the people living here were poor, a water source like the reservoir ahead was a certain means of survival in this perilous corner of Tordale. It gave life to both humans, and the creatures who managed to somehow thrive in the desert, like the Grimali.

Joth had been right, Alamor realized, recalling their conversation during their march through Sleekleaf Forest—“You can’t truly appreciate them until you see one in person.”

In the middle of marveling at the Grimali, Alamor remembered that Tridian was still standing in the streets, unaware that they were the source of the baying noise. He was just about to call out to the Prince of Tordale and inform him of his discovery before someone else’s cry interrupted him.

Alamor recognized it as Hinton’s voice, and when he turned, he spotted Hinton and Pauma racing through the cluttered streets and alleys. He was initially perplexed to see the Bachus running full speed across the town, until he noticed a pair of shapes no more than thirty yards behind them. Alamor’s eyes squinted, and he was finally able to discern that they were two dog-like beasts who pursued the Bachus—no doubt with vicious intentions. Their short, ocher fur helped them blend in with the sand, and made it somewhat difficult for Alamor’s eyes to follow the desert hounds. They appeared to be about the same size as wolves, although their bodies were thinner, likely nature’s way of granting them superior speed to hunt down their prey.

Hinton and Pauma were plenty fast on all four paws, Alamor knew, but likely not fast enough to evade the wild dogs forever. Were it not for the twisting streets and copious debris that obstructed the paths, Alamor was certain that the Bachus would have already been overtaken. He knew that Hinton and Pauma would need help, and as quickly as possible.

Alamor had nearly turned and began toward the stairwell before he then heard a chorus of the Grimalis’ cries in the distance. He looked out to where the herd had gathered at the town’s outskirts. The once calm Grimali had seemingly gone into a panic, shuffling about madly and trying to push through one another. Alamor then noticed movement not far from them—four more of the wild dogs like those that chased after Hinton and Pauma, but these ones hurrying after the Grimali. It was not long before all of the Grimali began to move as one, the entire herd storming ahead into the town to escape the oncoming predators.

Alamor’s heart dropped as he realized that his companions were now faced with far greater danger than just two wild hounds.

He could not waste another second. Without thinking, he bypassed the stairwell and leapt clear from the second floor of the building he stood in. The thick blanket of sand that coated the town’s streets proved a suitable cushion for his landing, even though it still jarred his legs upon impact. Ignoring the pain, Alamor began a frantic dash down the street in the direction of the Bachus. He looked back for just a moment to shout a warning to Tridian.

“There’s a stampede coming—run!!”

Tridian did not offer a question or any kind of protest as he followed behind Alamor—a choice that may well have saved his life. The incessant, sonorous rumble of the Grimali stampede quickly overtook every inch of the air around them. When Alamor glanced back just a few seconds later, the frightened creatures were already in sight, less than fifty yards from him. They were an unstoppable wave of flesh and bone, threatening to overwhelm and destroy anything that got in their way.

“Alamor, we need to get out of the way!” Tridian called out over the booming sounds of the stampede. “We need to run into a building and hide!”

“No!” Alamor yelled back, his determined eyes set ahead. “Hinton and Pauma are being chased by wild dogs, we have to help them first!”

They ran down the street for a few more moments before Alamor decided to veer off and hurry down a series of shorter pathways in between several buildings. Although they wore more rubble and garbage across their floors, making it harder for Alamor and Tridian to run at full speed, Alamor hoped that diverting their path would at least let them evade the stampeding herd of Grimali.

When he spared a glance behind, he saw that his plan was only somewhat successful. The town’s layout was so disjointed, the buildings often packed so close together, that the Grimali could not all continue moving straight ahead. Like water flowing through a system of branching pipes, a handful of Grimali broke off from the main group and started to storm down the same path that Alamor chose. These Grimali seemed to run even faster now that they had been freed from the clutches of their herd, gaining on Alamor and Tridian with each of their long strides.

Luckily for the two young men, it was no more than a minute later when they saw Hinton and Pauma speed down the street just ahead of them. The wild dogs that chased after the Bachus were only a few paces from overtaking the Bachus, prompting Alamor and Tridian to take action at once.

In a single motion, Tridian drew his spear and hurled it at one of the ravenous hounds. Even without allocating a second to his aim, the Prince of Tordale struck his target square in the back and instantly brought its pursuit to a halt. The wild dog did not even have the time to cry out before its body went limp in mid-air and skidded across the sand.

The other beast noticed the wild dog go down. Upon seeing its hunting partner slain, it promptly lifted its attention from the Bachus to face Alamor and Tridian.

Alamor met this one, unsheathing his sword as he leapt toward it. He swung his blade in a powerful arc before his feet even touched the ground, and while the desert beast bounded out of the way of his attack, it never replied with its own. As soon as its paws found the street’s sandy floor, it turned and sped off in a different direction.

Alamor was certain why it retreated so quickly; he could hear the deafening sound of stampeding Grimali just behind him.

“Hinton, Pauma—get inside!” Alamor screamed as loud as his throat would allow him.

The Bachus heeded his warning and immediately dove to safety into a nearby building. As that happened, Tridian reclaimed his spear from the wild dog he killed and followed Alamor to a house on the side of the street. Both of them were so desperate to escape the impending stampede that they simply jumped through the open window on the house’s façade to get inside.

Moments later, the Grimali came charging by. Alamor felt the ground tremble beneath him as the Grimali stormed over the street, shaking the very house that he and Tridian found refuge in. As it felt like an earthquake suddenly struck the abandoned town, Alamor briefly worried that the rest of the dilapidated house would come crashing down around him and Tridian. He could not even hear himself think as he struggled to lift himself to his feet. The thunderous cacophony of every Grimali’s feet stomping across the ground engulfed the surrounding area, and the only other noise that Alamor’s ears detected was that of the honking calls that the Grimali made as they ran on ahead.

Alamor eventually did manage to stand even as the ground continued to quiver, and he turned to look through the window at the passing stampede. A huge cloud of dust had risen while the Grimali raced over the town’s sandy floor, partially obscuring Alamor’s vision, but he could still see most of the charging herd.

He spotted the four wild dogs who had initiated their flight, in the first place. After chasing the peaceful creatures throughout half the town, one of the desert hounds finally chose to chance its luck and pounce at a Grimali along the edge of the herd. Unfortunately for the bold predator, it leapt right into a kick from the Grimali’s back leg. The blow carried such force that it reversed the wild dog’s momentum and flung its crumpled, lifeless body backward. Alamor could not decide if the Grimali’s kick had been an intentional attack, or an oblivious strike as the creature carried out its stride, but he was nonetheless amazed by its strength. He was just as amazed at the remaining wild dogs that continued to pursue the deceptively powerful Grimali even after watching one of its own be killed by a single blow.

Alamor was so captured by the scene that he did not recognize when both the quaking beneath his feet and the booming roar of Grimalis’ stampede finally began to wane. He only noticed it when fewer and fewer of the creatures hurried by him outside, until at last, the entire herd had passed by and continued running on through the town and out into the desert.

The hush that followed was almost eerie. After the thunderous roar that previously assailed his ears, Alamor found it strange to hear quiet once again; all that could be heard of the Grimali was a faint cadence in the distance that soon faded into silence. He and Tridian slowly—hesitantly—stepped outside, both of them not sure what to make of the calm around them following the chaos.

The cloud of dust and sand that had been kicked up from the stampede slowly dissipated, but that had not been the only thing lifted from the town’s floor. Both Alamor and Tridian quickly took notice of the dozens of skeletonized bodies that now lay out in the open throughout the street, the long-dead townsfolk unearthed from their sandy tombs by the passing Grimali herd.

They stared at the numerous bodies without a single word passing between them as Hinton and Pauma emerged from hiding and came over to join them.

“We might as well be strolling through a graveyard here,” Pauma said as she and her husband looked about at the many bodies.

“Yeah, and if we weren’t so lucky, you and I would likely be laying right there with them,” Hinton added. He turned to Alamor and Tridian, his expression filled by respect and gratitude. “Thanks for being so brave and helping us out there, you two lads. Are you both all right?”

“My legs will be sore later after running that fast for that long,” Alamor answered, “but otherwise I’m fine. I’m just glad to see you and Pauma are okay.”

Tridian’s only response to the Bachus was a silent nod.

“I’m glad to see that all of you are okay,” they heard Tiroku call out from further down the street.

They turned to see the Champion of Light approach them, Rawner at his side.

“The same goes for you two,” Alamor said. “Did that stampede ever come your way?”

“We almost got right in its way, actually,” Rawner answered. “Both of us heard it while we were trying to find Hinton and Pauma, and Tiroku was wise enough to get us up to a rooftop before we waited much longer. Those things ran right underneath us as they plowed through the town.”

Alamor looked back in the direction that the Grimali stormed off in. “It’s probably for the best if we just all stay together as a group from now on,” he offered.

“I would think it even better if we simply leave this town behind us,” Tiroku said. “We’ve spent enough time here today. Let’s move on and try to cover as much ground as possible before nightfall.”

Everyone in the group seemed to agree with Tiroku’s suggestion. The Champion of Light started forward, and the others promptly followed.

Alamor only took a few steps, however, before something caught his attention out of the tail of his eye. He immediately came to a stop and looked over at a skeletonized body that lay next to a building about twenty yards from where he stood.  Like the many others, it sat out in the open, leaving him to believe it had been freed from the sand during the Grimalis’ stampede.

But the reason why this one had drawn his curiosity was because of what it wore—steel armor. As he looked at it closer, he also thought he saw a familiar emblem marked over its chest plate. Alamor ran over to the body and hurriedly wiped away the thin layer of sand over its armored outfitting. He was stunned by what it revealed.

A sitting panther surrounded by four diamonds.

“Alamor, what are you doing?” Rawner called out behind him.

“This was a Tordalian soldier,” Alamor answered, but never turning his eyes away from the body. “He’s wearing the royal family emblem on his armor.”

Alamor did not wait to hear a response from his companions. He quickly stood and glanced about the nearby streets and alleys. As he surmised, the Grimalis’ stampede had partially unearthed a few other bodies that wore dark, iron armor. He ran to each one to inspect its chest plate, each time finding the royal family emblem marked on the surface in white. He found eight altogether by the time that his companions arrived to look over the dead soldiers, but he was certain that there must have been even more laying deeper within the sand beneath his feet.

“What were these fellas ever doing all the way out here?” Hinton asked aloud.

“That’s a very good question,” Rawner said, his brow furrowed as he studied the remains of one soldier. “These guys definitely weren’t just scouts or heralds; if their armor is anything to go by, they actually look they were knights in the military. They were some of the most elite soldiers that could be used as infantry.”

Pauma approached another body and eyed the long spear that its skeletonized hand still clasped. “Well, whatever they were here for, they were wielding some fine-looking weapons. Seems like they were right in the middle of the fight when this poor town got ransacked.”

“Regrettably,” Rawner said in a solemn tone. “They must have been a part of the force that King Aurilion sent into these parts years ago. They probably spent a night or two in this town during their campaign, and got caught up in all of the chaos when a gang of bandits rolled through here.”

Judging by the grave expressions on his companions’ faces, Alamor guessed that they all found Rawner’s explanation to be a reasonable one. It had been unsettling enough for them to discover the ruined town and its slaughtered residents, but to now find the remains of several Tordalian soldiers clearly unnerved them even further. Rawner, a proud man of the military himself, seemed to be especially affected by it.

“As I said before,” Tridian eventually broke in, his voice dripping with contempt, “the criminals who dwelled here knew no kind of order or moral code. They would have had no respect for what the emblem on these soldiers’ chest plates meant. Whether it was an ordinary citizen, or one of the military’s finest warriors, they would never hesitate to murder another person.”

Tridian’s grim words hung in the air after he finished, causing the group to fall silent. Like the many bodies that lay throughout the town, his bleak statement was a strong reminder for the others of just how brutal and callous living beings could be toward one another.

At the same time, it spurred Alamor’s curiosity even further. While everyone else was willing to accept Tridian’s and Rawner’s assumptions about the findings, Alamor only continued to have more and more questions. He did not share them with his companions; everyone else was unnerved after discovering the dead Tordalian soldiers, and he did not want to seem disrespectful to the deceased warriors.

Still, he could not ignore the questions that repeatedly whispered to him.

What had the soldiers been doing this deep in the desert to begin with? Alamor recognized that he was no expert on the region, but he was at least sure that the Azure Sands Outpost—the extent of the military’s control over the Arid Reaches—was a few days’ march away. As Rawner had pointed out, the soldiers that they found were not scouts. So, what had brought this many knights such a great distance from the military’s sole stronghold in the region?

Another question that slowly burgeoned in Alamor’s mind regarded the bodies that he and his companions found that day. If this town had truly been attacked by a horde of bandits as Tridian surmised, why had they found no remains of any of the marauders? There were a few dozen bodies on this street, and yet every last one appeared to belong to that of a Tordalian soldier, or the helpless townsfolk. They should have found some—any—signs of a slain bandit among the dead by now.

There was one question he asked himself—the very same he had asked himself before when he stood inside that ruined house less than an hour ago. It felt like it echoed within his thoughts with each and every moment that passed by.

What actually happened to this place?

21

After they left the abandoned town behind them, Alamor and his companions made a determined march across the desert. They had spent over an hour searching through the ruined settlement, and they hoped to make up most of that lost time by setting a deliberate pace through the rest of the afternoon and into the evening. The sun was not as intense during that time of the day, the same for the desert heat, allowing Alamor’s party more favorable conditions to proceed with their hurried trek.

They stopped just before nightfall, ending their march at a lone outcropping of sandstone that sat like an island in the middle of the desert. The large, rocky mound rose high from the ground, offering them an elevated spot to build their campsite that they hoped would offer further protection from any wild beasts. After their encounter with the feral hounds and Grimali in the ruined town, they realized that it was wise for their group to start taking greater precaution of the desert’s wild inhabitants.

It was also agreed that they would now have two people awake at once for watch duty throughout the night, to ensure that their party would not be the victim of a surprise ambush while they slept. This meant that each of them would get less sleep over the course of the night, but it was a unanimous opinion among them that it would be worth it to guarantee them greater safety. They had been lucky thus far not to encounter any of the bandits who called the desert home, and given how deep they were within the desert, they knew that they had to be more vigilant than ever for signs of hostile peoples. The abandoned town that they discovered taught them that much.

The group slept peacefully that night following the day’s tumultuous events, and they awoke feeling refreshed the next morning. The air gradually grew cooler the further they moved northward, easing the struggle of their march through the forlorn desert. With renewed vigor, they carried out a swift pace, covering more miles that day than they had on any other during their journey through the Arid Reaches. They once again employed a two-person watch system when they stopped and made camp at night. Just like before, they pushed themselves so much throughout the day that each of them fell asleep quickly.

The next morning saw the party embark with their spirits at the highest they had been since emerging from the ocean a week ago. A cool breeze managed to find its way into the Arid Reaches that day, sweeping over the group with its gentle touch. They struck up jovial conversation with one another for the duration of their march over the desert, sharing jokes, humorous memories, and many laughs between one another.

Alamor was the only one who did not join in. He once again led their trek, walking by himself at the front of the group with his eyes locked onto the desert in front of him. The land rose in the horizon, forming into hills and ridges that signified the region of Tordale where the Arid Reaches gradually ended, and the Tower Mountains began their steady ascent to the heavens above. With every hour that passed, those titanic landmasses of solid rock grew a little larger and nearer. But before Alamor and his party would come to the Tower Mountains, they would first find the Sandstone Mausoleum, and most importantly, Raissa, Dayneth, Joth, and their newfound allies.

The magical signal from Raissa felt the strongest that it had since he first sensed it, telling him that he was closing in on her and his other lost comrades. Knowing that he was near to finally reuniting with Raissa, Alamor could not bring himself to join his companions’ merrymaking; he could only think and wonder about how Raissa would look at him when they finally came back together.

“Hey, kid, you want to split this piece?”

Rawner’s voice eventually freed Alamor from his own thoughts. He looked to the side and saw that Rawner had at some point caught up to him. The man held out a hand that clasped a thick strip of the kelp that the Onda had provided them as rations.

“Sure, why not,” Alamor said with a shrug, and accepted the offering from Rawner. He took a bite and continued walking.

A few seconds went by until Rawner spoke again. “Is something on your mind?” he asked.

“You could say that,” Alamor confirmed.

Rawner chuckled. “I had a feeling. You have that look on your face like you’ve been doing a lot of thinking. You mind if I ask what about?”

Alamor did not so much as blink while he stared ahead into the horizon. “I’ve just been thinking about Raissa.”

“That’s a big surprise,” Rawner quickly interjected, making no attempt to hide his sarcasm.

Alamor managed a faint smile, amused by Rawner’s harmless humor. “Yeah, well, this time it’s been a little different. I’ve been wondering for the last couple of days now how she’s going to react when we finally see each other again.”

“She’ll probably be happy beyond words,” Rawner said.

“That’s not what I meant,” Alamor said. He lowered his tone to indicate the importance of the subject to him. “I know she’ll be glad that I’m safe, and that our group is back together again, but what I want to know is what she thinks of what I’ve accomplished since we were separated out in the ocean.”

Rawner nodded his head in understanding. “Ah, yes, I get what you’re saying. You’re hoping that she’ll be impressed with everything you’ve done.”

“‘Impressed’ isn’t the right word,” Alamor said. “More than anything else, I want her to be proud of me. I want her to feel like everything she’s done for me has truly made an impact on my life. The last time she saw me, I was getting into a stupid fight with Tridian, and then failing to use my Serenity when I needed it to protect our group. When she sees me again, I just hope that she’s proud of how much stronger I’ve become.”

“Well, I hope you’re not wracking your mind over it, because if you ask me, you’ve got nothing to worry about,” Rawner said.

Alamor smiled. “That’s the funny thing, though. I’m not worried. Actually, I’d go as far as to say I’m excited.”

“That’s definitely a different outlook from what you had before heading off to Caldeya for that summit,” Rawner said, grinning.

“No doubt about that,” Alamor agreed. “That’s the other funny thing—obviously this isn’t the first time that Raissa and I have been apart for a while, but when that last happened, I was too terrified of her reaction to ever face her again.”

“I know, it took me flexing my authority to even get you out of Geldiar,” Rawner noted.

Alamor laughed as he thought back to how Rawner issued an official military order for him to accompany Tiroku to Caldeya. “That’s right, and it was the only reason why I went through with it. Before, I was so terrified of the thought that Raissa might be disappointed in me, that I couldn’t bring myself to face her on my own. Now, this time, I actually can’t wait to find out what she thinks of me. I want so badly to show her how much I’ve grown in the last couple of weeks. Sort of surprising, huh?”

Rawner shook his head. His grin had faded. His expression and tone leveled. “Nope, it doesn’t surprise me at all,” he said. “I’ve known you for a long time, kid, since you were just a little guy. I’ve seen you at your very best, and I’ve seen you at your absolute worst. If you had said all of this a month or two ago, I might be surprised, but certainly not anymore. What you’ve managed to overcome in the last few weeks is more than impressive. It’s amazing. Life has thrown plenty of brutal blows your way, and even though you’ve stumbled here and there, you’re still standing today. You’re not just standing, either, you’re standing firm. You’ve proven that you’re made of nothing but grit and willpower, and I have to say, I’m proud that I’ve been able to watch it the whole way.”

At first, Alamor was not sure how to respond to what were perhaps the most heartfelt words he had ever heard from Rawner. The big man rarely spoke without some kind of grin reaching across his face, and it was even rarer for him to speak so emotionally.

Once Alamor’s initial disbelief finally wore off, he smiled. Indeed, Rawner had been by his side for a very long time, watching him both triumph and struggle at many different points in his life. Aside from Raissa, if there was anyone who understood Alamor and what he had been through, it was Rawner.

Alamor showed his longtime friend a smile that was filled with every measure of his appreciation and gratitude. “Thanks for that, pal.”

“Hey, you deserve it,” Rawner said. “You’re a man, now.”

Alamor grinned as he recalled a conversation that they had many days ago. “But you said a while back that I wouldn’t be a man until I lived to see twenty-five years.”

Rawner seemed to be amused that Alamor remembered his words. He offered a shrug in response. “Some people are worthy of an exception.”

Alamor was ready to say something in reply, but just before the first word passed his lips, he suddenly felt a spike in the magical presence that he had been following since arriving in the desert. Without any kind of warning, the magical signal burst forth with magnificent strength. It was now a sonorous cry that captured the very air around Alamor. It felt as if he had traveled miles in just a few seconds, and now stood mere feet away from Raissa.

She was near.

Very near.

Alamor started running ahead. He let go of his armor and let it fall into the sand, no longer wanting anything to slow him down even if it meant reaching Raissa just a few moments sooner.

“Wait, Alamor, where are you going?” Rawner called out to him.

“Raissa’s nearby! Let everyone know!” Alamor shouted back to him.

“And I’m supposed to just lug your armor the rest of the way?”

“I’ll pay you back sometime!”

Alamor did not wait to hear if Rawner passed on his message; he did not care. All that he could think about at that moment was that he might finally be on the verge of closing the vast distance which had separated him and Raissa for nearly two weeks—a period of time where he became a far greater man than she last knew him as. After more than a minute, the heightened intensity of the magical link that he had formed with Raissa still remained, confirming to him that the spike had not been merely an anomaly, and that it was indeed because he was very close to where Raissa waited for him.

The desert did not reward Alamor right away. All that he set foot over was an endless wasteland of dusty stone and sand dunes, no matter how far he ran. Even as the rocky hills slowly—almost tauntingly—inched their way closer to him, it still seemed like they deliberately lingered in the far off distance.

Alamor refused to slow down. He continued to chase after Raissa’s Serenity, even as the desert’s balmy heat tried to wear away at him. He knew that he could be wasting energy by maintaining such a hurried pace, and in truth, he had no idea where exactly he was running to. For all that he knew, Raissa could still be several miles away. If that were the case, his body would quit on him long before he even got to lay eyes on her.

Still, he ran on, his indomitable will holding back the burn in his lungs and the throbbing ache in his muscles. No matter how much his fatigue threatened to bring his pursuit to a halt, his faith that Raissa was near pushed him forward. He may very well have been fueled by his Serenity, his magic empowering him well beyond what his physical form could ever achieve.

Alamor had no idea how long he dashed across the desert before he reached the top of a particularly large sand dune. Further away, there was a sight that made his heart soar—an enormous ridgeline rising from the desert’s sandy floor. His eyes squinted, trying their hardest to peer through the hazy horizon created by the Arid Reach’s heat. When he was able to make out what he believed to be a huge doorway carved into the front of the ridge, he took off in a maddened sprint.

It was the fastest mile he had ever covered with his own two legs. Even though his body was weary and his breath threatened to fail him, the sight of the Sandstone Mausoleum growing closer only spurred him forward. It was not long before he spotted several shapes standing in front of the tall ridges. They were the same shapes he saw in his vision a few days ago.

He saw the group of Aesur warriors. He saw Dayneth and Joth.

He saw Raissa.

When he finally got to her, they seized one another in a joyful embrace. Alamor wanted to say so much to Raissa, but his throat would not allow it as he tried to regain his breath. His legs quivered, so sore that they seemed to want to collapse beneath him. If he had been anywhere else, with any other person at that very moment, he likely would have fallen to the ground in complete exhaustion.

But like so many other times before, Raissa kept him standing.

When they at last released one another from their embrace, Raissa looked at Alamor with a smile that contained more than just her love and admiration for him.

“I’m so proud of you,” she said.

The smile that Alamor returned to her could have reached from one side of the desert to the other.

* * * * *

It was a little while before all of Alamor’s companions finally managed to catch up to him, their group having been unable to match his determined pace as they hurried across the Arid Reaches. Tridian was the first to arrive, and he was just as elated to finally reunite with Raissa. Tiroku and Rawner joined them a few minutes later, bringing with them Alamor’s armor which he had dropped behind him. Lastly came Hinton and Pauma, although not without an effort on their part to join their friends as soon as they could. The Bachus had tried to conserve their energy during the last leg of their trek, but once they were within sight, they came bounding across the sand dunes faster than Alamor had seen from them in the last several days. Even the desert’s unbearable heat could not temper their joy at seeing Raissa.

Their group was just as happy to be reunited with Dayneth and Joth. Once their party was finally whole again, Dayneth took a few moments to introduce Alamor and the others to her sister, along with the regiment of Aesur soldiers accompanying her. Tridian’s earlier guess as to Elisstriss’s identity proved true, but he, Alamor, and the rest of their group that traveled the Arid Reaches together were still amazed to see and speak to Dayneth’s sibling. Tridian was especially intrigued by Elisstriss, having grown up his entire life knowing of her, and only meeting her now for the first time.

Elisstriss recounted the plight that had befallen Skyscape and drove the Aesur to descend to the surface world in search of help. She spoke of their journey all the way up to the afternoon on the ridges where she and her soldiers rescued Raissa, Dayneth, and Joth from the predatory Kaivu. Raissa then took over to explain their long trek across the Arid Reaches. Alamor also told of his party’s journey, going into great detail about their days with the Onda, and how they reawakened the monstrous Samuras in order to do battle with the monsters who attacked their ships.

“And now, here we are,” Alamor said to close out his account, his eyes moving up along the giant ridges that housed the Sandstone Mausoleum, “The resting place of Ralu’s Radia.” He looked back to Raissa. “You’ve been here for a few days you said, right? Why did you not enter the Spirit Shrine on your own?”

Raissa smiled. “Because I doubt I would have been able to obtain the Radia of Hope by myself,” she answered.

Alamor recognized that she was not merely trying to compliment him; she was confident that she needed him by her side. Just the same, Alamor knew that he would need Raissa’s magic in order for them to claim the second Radia. “Well, no reason to wait any longer,” he said, and glanced about the rest of the group to gain their approval. “As long as nobody objects, I think we should head inside.”

Nobody argued.

“Allow me to lead the way, then,” Joth announced, and started toward the ridge. “Follow me, all.”

The party did not immediately heed him, but instead waited to allow Alamor and Raissa to go first, knowing that the young man and the young woman were the most capable among them at meeting their task inside the ancient structure. Everyone fell in line after them, and they followed Joth to the base of the front steps that stretched to the yawning entryway high above.

It threatened to be a grueling ascent. The stairway was very steep, running with scarcely any angle up along the rock. Each huge step rose nearly three feet above the last. The staircase would have been difficult—if not, dangerous—to climb, but Elisstriss’s remarkable Airtaming ability provided a safer means of reaching the top. She gathered a great deal of her magic together and took command of the air all around their company, forming a series of air streams that she guided beneath everyone’s feet. As if she created a massive platform that floated up along the rock formations, she directed the air streams to send the company hovering high above the desert floor until she set them down at the top of the staircase.

The pinnacle of the steps showed them a beautiful, panoramic view of the sprawling desert behind them, as well as a harrowing look down at the near-fifty foot drop along the stairs—a sight that sent the entire party hurrying onto the safety of the ridge’s solid, secure ground.

Joth led them into a long tunnel that ran deep into the mountainous rock formations. It was fairly roomy inside, much wider and taller than the tunnels beneath Sleekleaf Forest. In that regard, it reminded Alamor more of the hallways inside the Bachu Caverns, although it was nowhere near as fine. While the entryway’s façade was obviously cut with great care, the tunnel’s walls were crudely carved. The more that Alamor looked about, he wondered if the passage had actually been formed more so by erosion over time than by living hands, perhaps from a river that flowed through there in the time before Scourge’s devastation.

He and the others reached the end of the tunnel and stepped into something that was certainly crafted by hands of long ago. The tunnel opened into a sprawling courtyard that was hollowed out of the ridge’s rocky makeup. The floor and walls were as smooth as those in the regal halls of Tordale Castle, the stone having been expertly hewn by the ancient engineers of a past age. They were so polished, and still so pristine, that they glimmered like marble underneath the bright desert sun.

Two rows of obelisks ran across the center of the space, each standing at least twenty feet tall. Their sides were filled by glyphs that had been carved into their surfaces—the script of a language that likely had not been written elsewhere, or even spoken, in thousands of years.

The columns of obelisks concluded at another yawning entryway. Like the first one that the party passed through, it was elaborately cut into the sandstone that formed the ridge. Standing atop the arched threshold were a pair of huge statues that were fashioned out of the same rock as the rest of the courtyard. The giant effigies depicted Xogun and Ralu. The Sage of Valor stood with his sword in hand, encased in armor, mask over his face. Beside him stood Ralu. Both lifted their heads, their expressions fixed on the sky. Ralu held her right arm close to her chest, covering her heart with her hand. Both she and Xogun reached skyward with open palms. The gesture made it appear as if they were trying to grasp something, perhaps the heavens above.

Most of the group was captivated by the amazing sights as they passed through the courtyard, but Alamor’s attention was seized only by the entryway beneath the great statues, and the mystical presence that dwelled within.

He felt it the moment he stepped beyond the mouth of the tunnel. Similar to how he detected Raissa’s Serenity, it was like a beacon calling out to him from afar. Its cries emanated from somewhere deep within the chambers of the Sandstone Mausoleum, and its echoes traveled far enough to reach the courtyard and whisper to Alamor’s spirit.

This magic was very different from Raissa’s, however. Alamor recognized this immediately by the fact that the magic was not deliberately searching for him, but was simply so immense that he could sense what was exuded in the distance. He also realized that it was not from just one source, but many, and none of them were living creatures. Even where he stood, Alamor felt the presence of magic from Spiritcasters and Champions of Light from long ago. Similar to when he walked within the Jade Keep, he perceived the souls of those ancient heroes who once drew breath in his world, but remained within the Sandstone Mausoleum’s chambers to watch over the portal to one of Tordale’s greatest treasures—the Radia of Hope.

“You can sense it, can’t you?” Raissa asked as she stood beside Alamor.

He nodded wordlessly, never looking away from the entrance ahead.

“Your Serenity has grown even more than you may realize,” Raissa told him. “To detect this kind of magic is a very difficult feat, especially given where, and who, that magic emanates from.”

“I definitely wasn’t able to do this when we were in the Jade Keep,” Alamor noted. “At least, not until we were nearly right on top of it by the portal to the Hallowed Plane. Maybe you’re right about how my own magic has grown.”

“I’m sure of it,” Raissa said, not a trace of uncertainty in her voice. “You’ve become a true Champion of Light.”

Even though it was one of the greatest compliments anybody could pay Alamor, he did not revel in it. His focus remained pinpointed on their task at hand. “Let’s hope that it’s enough for us to walk out of here with the Radia of Hope,” he said. Alamor then turned and looked back at his other companions behind him. “Raissa and I will head inside,” he announced, and spared a glance in Joth’s direction, as well. “There’s no need for any of you to follow.”

“Are you sure of that?” Joth asked. “I may not have explored the entirety of the temple, but I can at least guide you through some of the early hallways and chambers.”

“I appreciate you wanting to help,” Alamor replied, “but we won’t need a guide. We’ll be able to find our way on our own.”

Joth’s expression leveled; he seemed to understand that Alamor was implying his and Raissa’s ability to follow a magical presence. Still, there was a hint of concern in Joth’s eyes as he looked back at the entrance. “It just doesn’t feel right to send you two in there all alone when there’s so many of us available to come with you,” he explained. “It’s likely been a couple of months since anyone from the Azure Sands Outpost stepped inside, and far longer for the parts you two will be venturing through. There’s no telling what traps may lay there, or if some wild creature has managed to find its way inside.”

“There were no other living things inside the Jade Keep,” Raissa said. “These temples built by Spiritcasters and Champions of Light have certain…ways of keeping dangerous, unwanted things out of their halls.”

“As for any potential traps,” Alamor continued. “If Raissa and I wouldn’t be able to overcome them on our own, then we’re probably not capable of wielding the Radia of Hope in the first place.” He and Raissa faced Joth with their unflinching expressions, the young magic users making it very clear that had no intention to relent.

The Captain of the Azure Sands Outpost could only stare back at their determined faces for a few moments before he looked behind them. “Tiroku, what do you think?”

All eyes fell to the Champion of Light, who stood with his arms crossed and a stoic expression over his aged features. He did not answer immediately, but seemed to contemplate his choices as everyone waited on his response.

“They have accomplished it before, and they will have to do so once again,” Tiroku finally said. He gradually approached Alamor and Raissa as he continued to speak. “I have my own worries about what awaits them inside, just as you do, Joth, but what Alamor said before is true—they cannot hope to use the power of Ralu’s Radia if they will be stopped by what possible dangers are inside the Sandstone Mausoleum.” He finished just as he came to Alamor and Raissa. He looked only at them, his firm eyes sending their own message along with his words. “They are ready to meet this task.”

“I’m with Master Tiroku on this,” Rawner added with a broad smile. “Alamor and Raissa have handled far worse than a few dark and dusty hallways. There’s no two people better in the whole kingdom to take care of this.”

The Bachus appeared to be just as supportive as Rawner. “We’ve got complete confidence in you two young’ns,” Hinton said, he and Pauma flashing smiles to Alamor and Raissa. “You’ll find that next Radia in no time, I’m sure! I only wish some of my Blueblaze candles had survived our little dip into the ocean, I would’ve loaned you my lantern for you to take in there.”

Alamor smiled back at the Bachus. “Don’t worry, if the Sandstone Mausoleum is anything like the Jade Keep, there will be more than enough torches lighting the way inside. The magic that remains in there seems to make sure the flames never burn out.” He glanced over his shoulder at his sword’s hilt as it jutted from its sheath, and then briefly at Raissa. “And if we’re really desperate, our own magic will be able to help us.”

Behind him, Joth let out an audible sigh—a sign of admission that the man would no longer argue with their plan. Once Alamor and Raissa turned and faced him, Joth stepped out of their way and gestured toward the entrance. “Be on your way then,” he said, evidently making an effort to appear encouraging, despite his pleas falling on deaf ears. “May you succeed just as you did before.”

Alamor and Raissa nodded to him, and then nodded back at the rest of their friends as a final show of reassurance. They only shared a fleeting look at one another before they started forward and entered the Sandstone Mausoleum.

22

The hallway that brought Alamor and Raissa into the depths of the Sandstone Mausoleum was cramped compared to the tunnel that led to the courtyard. Its walls were spaced just far enough apart for them to walk side by side, and the ceiling rose no more than eight feet high. Also unlike the earlier tunnel, which ran straight, this hallway took numerous twists and turns, snaking throughout the massive ridge like a maze. After no more than a minute inside, Alamor’s and Raissa’s view of their friends and the courtyard was cut off by the hallway’s shadowy walls.

Spindles of light fell through many holes and crevices above, illuminating portions of what would otherwise have been a pitch black passage. As Alamor and Raissa continued along, he noticed a uniform pattern to their placement in the ceiling, and there were far more than he would have expected to find from mere erosion. It seemed as though the tiny gaps were deliberately cut into the rock by the engineers who built the Sandstone Mausoleum long ago.

No matter their origin, Alamor was thankful to see so many shafts of light as he and Raissa made their way deeper. Without them, he would not have even been able to see Raissa beside him, at least not without one of the two summoning their Serenity. Given the strenuous spells that would be necessary to take them into the Hallowed Plane, and then what would likely be necessary for them to obtain Ralu’s Radia, they hoped they would not have to deplete their magic for anything but last resorts.

When the narrow passage finally ended, it brought a welcome change of scenery—a huge chamber that must have run one hundred yards across. As soon as they stepped beyond the tight, murky hallway and entered the chamber, Alamor and Raissa felt refreshed by the clean air that filled the space. It spilled in through windows carved high into the walls, flowing to the floor some fifty feet below. Those same windows also granted passage to great shafts of light that sent all shadows retreating to the chamber’s furthest corners.

Two rows of rounded pillars connected the floor to the tall ceiling. Each one was thicker than the trunk of an old willow tree. Series of caskets were set at their bases, sometimes in such great numbers that the caskets filled the space from one pillar to the next. Most of the caskets were made of stone, but Alamor spotted several others that appeared to be fashioned out of wood. He assumed that the ones made from stone were from ages ago when the Sandstone Mausoleum was first constructed, while the ones made of wood were brought by the folk of the Azure Sands Outpost in more recent times.

After initially being overjoyed to walk within the huge chamber, Alamor soon found his spirits leveling.

“There must be hundreds of people buried here,” he said as the sobering realization fell over him.

“Likely more than that,” Raissa noted.

“You think there are other burial chambers besides this one?” Alamor asked.

“Most definitely,” Raissa answered. “But I think that there are even more in this chamber than within the caskets.”

Alamor’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean by that?”

“The walls,” Raissa said, pointing to one side of the enormous room.

Alamor followed Raissa to the wall, and noticed that the lower half wore a greyish surface dappled in black, what Alamor assumed to be granite. It was a stark contrast from the rest of the chamber’s appearance, which was clearly hewn out of the sandstone that built up the ridge. Upon further inspection, Alamor saw that the granite portion of the wall was fashioned in a grid-like design. Each square block was the same exact size as all of the others, and they were lined up so evenly that there did not appear to be an inch’s disparity between any two. Alamor also noticed some kind of ancient script written over each of them. When he saw that it was the very same that wrapped about the pillars in the courtyard, he finally knew what each block represented.

“They’re all tombs, aren’t they?” Alamor asked.

“I would assume so,” Raissa answered. “If I had to guess, these that were built into the walls came first, and once the people of this region ran out of room, they began to place their dead in caskets out here on the floor.”

Alamor turned and peered across the chamber. The opposite wall’s lower half was also composed of the same granite blocks that surely housed countless persons who had been laid to rest over the ages.

As his eyes scanned the many tombs, Alamor’s gaze was eventually drawn to the upper half of the wall, where several paintings lay over the sandstone surface. The paintings were done almost entirely in red dye, portraying what seemed to be humans, although they were not realistic depictions. Their figures were painted in simplistic, ovular shapes that sported little or no detail, and their limbs were merely slashes of red dye that curled at their ends to represent hands and feet.

Their faces were more accurate, being given unique eyes, noses, mouths, and even various expressions. They were clearly given far more attention than any other part of their bodies, as evidenced by their eerie realism and the variety of colors used to create their features. All of their faces were lifted skyward, and while no one person was painted in the same exact pose, each held their arms up in what looked to be some kind of prayer-like stance.

Alamor’s eyes ran further up the wall, settling upon another figure painted in red. It was nearly twice the size of any that lay below. The figure stood with its arms and a pair of outstretched wings reaching to its sides. Its face was only painted from the mouth-down, as the rest of it was concealed by what seemingly represented a hood—a clear indication as any that the figure was none other than Ralu.

Alamor would have stared at the extensive murals along the walls for much longer, but Raissa eventually turned and began to make her way back to the center of the chamber.

“Let’s keep moving,” she said. “I believe that we are actually very close to the portal to the Hallowed Plane.”

Alamor followed behind Raissa, and as they crossed the massive burial room, he realized that Raissa was likely correct in her assumption. The magical presence that had guided them ever since they entered the Sandstone Mausoleum was especially strong now, growing more ubiquitous with each step they took. What was once a fading echo had grown into a sonorous cry, the essence of a sacred realm—and an unequaled source of Serenity—permeating every inch of the air around them.

They came to the far side of the chamber, where a new hallway emerged, leading deeper into the burial grounds. The passage’s floor was a carpet of sand. At the end of it were two burning torches that jutted from the wall of an adjacent hallway, the glow from their flickering flames revealing a huge pair of doors.

Behind those doors was the origin of the great Serenity that Alamor and Raissa sought. They started forward, both eager to find the portal to the Hallowed Plane, and thankful to have likely found it so soon.

They were halfway down the passage when Alamor sensed that something was amiss. His first few steps across the sandy floor were steadier than he expected. It felt as if he walked across solid earth rather than loose sand and grit. As he and Raissa progressed further, his feet sank incrementally into the sand—never so far that it was obvious danger, but enough that it roused Alamor’s suspicion. The sandy floor gave way beneath his footfalls with bizarre consistency, each step being pulled just slightly further into the grit.

Alamor looked to Raissa. Even though he wore armor from neck to toe, and she wore fine, light garments as part of her royal attire, along with a cloak, Raissa’s feet appeared to be sinking the same depth into the sand as Alamor’s.

Raissa stopped in the middle of the hallway before Alamor had to alert her. The look on her face told Alamor that she knew—not merely sensed—that something was wrong.

“Head back,” Alamor implored, suddenly feeling that they only had moments to escape the trap.

Raissa turned, forcibly pulled her feet from the sand, and hastily sped down the hallway back to the huge burial chamber. Alamor was right behind her. The length of the passage was only a few yards, but they ran with the same urgency as if they had to cover a mile, desperate to keep their footfalls as brief as possible.

At one point, Alamor glanced over his shoulder. In the middle of the hallway, right where he and Raissa briefly stood, a gaping pit had suddenly formed within the sand. It looked like the floor of loose sediment had parted to reveal a giant maw. The depression spread by the seconds, its reach rapidly stretching the entire width of the hallway as the sand fell away into a shadowy void.

Alamor and Raissa kept running even once their feet returned to the Sandstone Mausoleum’s solid, stone floor. They only stopped when they came to the rows of pillars and caskets, where they felt safe from the strange hazard in the hallway.

It was a few moments before they had the courage to approach the hallway again and inspect the sand that seemingly attempted to consume them. The mysterious pit had already retracted by the time they returned. The sand receded back into place, filling the depression and making the floor whole, once more.

Alamor bent down and picked up a loose rock. He threw it to the far end of the hallway. It landed in the sand, and within just a few seconds the rock sank into the gritty depths. It was as if the sand was a ravenous creature that devoured whatever touched the hallway floor.

“Quicksand?” Raissa asked.

“I don’t think so,” Alamor answered, his voice low. “I’ve never actually seen quicksand in my life, but from everything I know, it doesn’t react so…deliberately, like this did.”

“Joth was right, then, about there being traps inside of here,” Raissa said.

Alamor nodded. “Like you said before, I’m sure the spirits have ways of keeping out the unworthy.” He indicated the adjacent passage where the torches and doorway stood. “There’s no sand over there, and the floor at least seems solid, like everything else. We just need to be careful going forward.”

Raissa began to look about the burial chamber. Her gaze eventually set upon another hallway that ran off from the right side of the enormous room, and what appeared to be the only other path they could take. “Let’s head that way and hope it leads to the same doorway this hallway leads to.”

She started toward their exit, but Alamor remained behind for just a moment. As he stared at the long hallway before him, he thought he saw a shape move beneath the sand surface, like when a large fish briefly breaches the surface of the water. Alamor quickly followed behind Raissa, grateful that he and the Princess of Tordale had not tread further down the sand-covered hallway.

They left the burial chamber and entered the far passage that Raissa had spotted. The hallway ran only a short distance before it formed into a steep stairway, which ended with a view of the outside world. Even from the bottom of the steps, Alamor and Raissa could see the azure sky and rays of sunlight. The possibility of open air spurred them up the stairs in a hurry, and before long they emerged onto a wide walkway carved into the rocky hills. Alamor and Raissa were initially blinded by the bright sunlight. When their vision finally adjusted, they surveyed their surroundings. To their left, the ground fell away into another sprawling courtyard like the one that their party entered earlier.

Instead of pillars, this courtyard housed a number of tall statues that Alamor believed to be of past Spiritcasters and Champions of Light. He discerned the Spiritcasters as those who were dressed somewhat plainly, usually by robes, vests, or tunics, while the Champions of Light wore armor or a cape. Each figure was frozen in the same pose as the giant effigies of Ralu and Xogun that stood above the doorway to the Sandstone Mausoleum. Their gazes were bent skyward, one hand reaching above them, and the other hand held over their heart or bearing a weapon.

Alamor also discerned two yawning entryways within the courtyard that stood on opposite sides of the space. Although he was certain that one must have led to the corridor that he and Raissa had been unable to reach because of the strange sand, there was no way for them to enter the courtyard from where they stood, for the walkway rose some thirty feet or more without any safe passage downward.

He turned and looked to the right. The opposite side of the walkway was bordered by a wall of rock, but most of the bottom portion was hollowed out in the form of a window. It revealed a sweeping view of the desert that lay beyond the sandstone ridges. The Arid Reaches ran into the horizon seemingly without limit, a land of nothing but sunlight and sand beneath the immaculate sky.

As Alamor stared at the desert before him, he was reminded of the time when he first awoke on Onda Reef and looked out over the ocean from the cliffs. Just like that morning when he gazed at the endless world of blue waves, he felt now that he stood in one of the furthest corners of the kingdom, as far away as he could possibly be from other life and civilization. It made him realize that the Arid Reaches was its own kind of ocean—breathtaking in its vastness and emptiness, but also frightening for those same reasons.

“I’ve been in this desert for nearly two weeks now,” Raissa said as she joined Alamor by the window and stared into the horizon, “but I feel as though this is the first time that I’ve truly been able to appreciate how beautiful it is.”

“I understand what you mean,” Alamor replied, certain that he knew why Raissa had been distracted during her time journeying throughout the Arid Reaches. “You and I have both been preoccupied lately. It’s hard to take in everything that’s around you when you’re placing your entire focus on one person and their Serenity like we did.”

“I hope that someday I can come back here when I’m not completing such an important mission,” Raissa said. “I want the opportunity to explore more of this region, to see what other amazing things are hidden in this part of the kingdom. If there is one thing that the desert has taught me in the last several days, it’s that the reputation it carries across the rest of Tordale doesn’t fairly represent all of its beauty.”

Alamor shared that sentiment. “All that you usually hear about this region is that it’s hot enough to melt rock and that only the most miserable things survive here. You never hear someone speak about sights like this, the Sandstone Mausoleum, or a Grimali herd. After all of the terrible things I was told about this place, I never expected that I’d ever look at the desert the way I do now. It’s amazing how a couple of days—and even just a change in elevation—can give you such a drastically different view of the world.”

It was a few moments before Raissa added her own thought, and when she spoke, she did so with a soft, solemn tone. “There are many people throughout the kingdom who should see this same view,” she said. “All of those who say that the land here is inhospitable, or that all who dwell here are either wild beasts or savage outlaws—they are wrong. There is so much wonder here that goes unrecognized because of ignorance, even after Scourge tried to destroy it.”

Alamor felt that he knew why Raissa spoke so pensively about the subject. “Your father must have felt the same way. He understood that there were great things to be salvaged here. Scourge’s rampage scarred this region, but it didn’t destroy it.”

“And he never saw much of it with his own eyes, let alone a distant corner of it like where we are now,” Raissa added. There was a trace of awe in her voice as she recounted her father’s intuition.

“Your father’s judgment was something to marvel,” Alamor said. “Even more, the way that he saw good in the world when it appeared like there was little. It’s hard to imagine that any other person in Tordale would have trusted enough in this desert to do what he did to rescue it.”

Raissa turned to Alamor. Conviction and desire pooled in her eyes. “When all of this with the Radia and Baldaron is over, and we have brought peace back to Tordale…maybe my brother and I can continue my father’s mission. Maybe there will come a day when this desert is as prosperous as it was when the Sandstone Mausoleum was first built, before Scourge swept through here.”

A confident smile managed to cross Alamor’s face. He stepped away from the window and started across the walkway. “There’s only one way for that to ever happen,” he said, gesturing for Raissa to follow him.

They proceeded across the rest of the walkway. It eventually led to a stairwell like the one leading from the burial chamber. Even as they headed back into the depths of the Sandstone Mausoleum, the heat that they encountered outside did not recede. In fact, it grew more intense as Alamor and Raissa descended further. The air became thick and oppressive, not so different from the forges within the Bachu Caverns.

The stairs eventually brought Alamor and Raissa into a new hallway, but they could not see how far it ran, for a sheer wall of gold flame blocked their view. The strangely-colored fire sprang from the stone floor, dancing and crackling without any discernable fuel source. Many of the flames reached high enough to caress the ceiling with their touch. Perhaps even more inexplicable than the fire’s color was that Alamor could not spot any burn marks along the stone. Not a single inch had been charred or seared by the roaring blaze, even as its heat alone felt like it could ignite one’s clothing.

Alamor was seized with horror when Raissa stepped up to the fire and extended her hand into it.

“Raissa, no!” he screamed.

He froze just as he reached out to pull her away. To Alamor’s utter astonishment, Raissa did not so much as blink while her hand hung within the gold flames. The fire lapped against her skin, yet it caused no burns.

Alamor was again startled when Raissa stepped forward and disappeared within the fire. She entered the flames’ embrace as confidently as she would the cool mist of the ocean shore.

“It’s okay, Alamor,” she assured him. “This fire isn’t what you think it is.”

Alamor still balked at the frightening prospect. “I don’t really have any thoughts on what this could be…” he muttered.

Against everything his instincts would normally tell him to do, Alamor hesitantly reached into the fire. He was nothing short of stunned when he felt a soothing, energizing sensation wash over his hand. He eventually built up the nerve to offer his whole body to the fire as Raissa had.

When he stepped all the way into the gold blaze, the sweltering heat was suddenly gone. Even as Alamor’s vision was consumed by fire, the air around him immediately became subsumed by an unearthly, empowering presence. As he and Raissa slowly proceeded through the fire—which stretched further down the hallway than they initially suspected—Alamor encountered far more than just sensory elements like temperature and color. He perceived incorporeal essences amongst the flames, emotions that had taken physical form. Alamor felt the presence of extraordinary willpower, passion, ambition, and other attributes of mighty beings who once knew a mortal form. He could not be entirely certain, but he believed that the flames were the souls of ancient Spiritcasters taking form in the temporal world.

Alamor could not tell how far he and Raissa walked before they eventually stepped beyond the fire’s embrace, and back into an empty, shadowy hallway. The moment their bodies left the flames’ touch, the oppressive heat returned to the air around them.

“I need to see something…” Raissa said aloud, her expression tight with curiosity as she removed the dusty cloak she had been wearing over her royal attire. She casually tossed the cloak into the gold fire. The garment was immolated before any part of it could land on the floor.

While Alamor’s eyes widened at the results of Raissa’s experiment, she was stoic in response. “It’s just as I thought,” she said. “This fire is meant to ward off anyone who does not possess mastery over Serenity.”

Apparently satisfied with her conclusion, Raissa casually turned from the gold flames and started down the rest of the hallway.

“We definitely made the right decision coming in here alone…” Alamor said, still staring in wonder at the fire as he followed Raissa.

In time, the long hallway led Alamor and Raissa to the foyer they had seen earlier, where the stretch of sand ended and a great doorway sat within the wall. Sensing the immense source of Serenity more than ever, and knowing that only a few inches of stone separated them from the portal to the Hallowed Plane, Alamor pushed opened one of the heavy doors and stepped inside.

Beyond the doors was a stone bridge that stretched across an enormous rotunda. Each step they took seemed to echo for an eternity, and it was only when Alamor looked off to the side that he realized the room had no floor. The rounded chamber looked like it had been hollowed out. A drop into total darkness surrounded the bridge on both sides. Alamor could not tell where it led or how far it fell, nor did he particularly want to know.

The bridge that he and Raissa stood on reached out to a cylindrical platform which rose from the gloom. Its wide, flat surface held the altar that served as the opening to the Hallowed Plane. A huge torch stood on each side of the platform, their gold flames dancing within the candelabras and producing the only traces of light found inside the stygian rotunda. A lone pedestal rested between the two torches, the block of stone sitting silently, almost forebodingly as Alamor and Raissa approached the altar.

They stopped where the bridge ended. Neither of them said a word for several moments as they stared at the altar and felt the unfathomable presence of a sacred dimension bearing down upon them.

Nearly a minute went by where Alamor and Raissa stood in silence. It was finally broken when a faint sigh escaped Raissa’s lips as she started forward. “Stay here while I open the portal,” she said.

Her voice was filled with uncertainty, as if she feared the task ahead of her. Alamor was not entirely surprised by this; he harbored a suspicion for as long as they traversed the Sandstone Mausoleum that Raissa was concerned with summoning the spell that would take them to the Hallowed Plane.

“I’m not going to let you do that on your own,” he said, his voice so firm that it brought Raissa’s advance to a halt.

She looked back at him, her eyes questioning. “What do you mean?”

“I know why you’re worried about this,” Alamor said. “You’re concerned that after projecting your Serenity for so long to guide me across the desert, that your magical reserves won’t be able to withstand the burden of the spell that will bring us into the Hallowed Plane.”

“My Serenity won’t fail me,” Raissa declared. “I have no doubt that I’ll be able to open the portal.”

“Neither do I,” Alamor said. “But you know even better than I do just how tremendous the strain is in summoning the Serenity necessary for that, and if you try to do it with depleted energy, it could have serious consequences on your life force.”

Alamor deliberately avoided saying what was the most probable of those serious consequences. It appeared that he still got his message across, though, as evidenced by the silence that joined Raissa’s stoic stare.

She eventually nodded in concession. “I’m sorry that I did not tell you. I did not want you to fear for me or for our mission. Even though there is danger in it, I’ve always intended to carry out the spell, regardless.”

“Well, don’t worry. I’m not afraid. I’m going to help you with it.”

“Your Serenity is not capable of that,” Raissa said matter-of-factly. “You’ve developed remarkable control over your Serenity since you first harnessed it, but your abilities do not allow you to command the kind of spell that will take us to the Hallowed Plane.”

“Just let me try.”

Alamor’s gaze was unflinching, a confident stare that eventually forced Raissa to relent. The Princess of Tordale turned away without so much as a nod, and she once again started toward the altar. Alamor followed behind her.

She stopped just a few feet from the pedestal that rose in the middle of the wide platform. For several minutes, Raissa stood completely still. She did not make a sound. It was like she had become a statue as she prepared to cast the spell that would transport her and Alamor to the Hallowed Plane.

She gave no warning or indication to Alamor when she would begin, and with her back to him, Alamor could not tell where or what she may have set her sights on while she concentrated. Still, he understood that the spell she readied was among the most powerful known to Spiritcasters, and that she required total focus in order to achieve it, leaving Alamor with no choice but to simply stand behind her and wait.

His patience was eventually rewarded when he felt a flicker of Raissa’s Serenity. It began to expand, gradually rising in strength and stretching beyond her physical being. Her Serenity reached out to the sacred magic that swirled about in the huge rotunda, gently melding together and becoming one.

After nearly a minute passed by, Raissa’s body became enshrouded in a golden light. She lifted her arms out to her sides, and all at once, she called forth every measure of her Serenity.

Alamor felt Raissa’s magic soar from her being and into the unseen portal that connected their world to the Hallowed Plane. At the same time that her Serenity linked to the sacred realm and began to carry them into it, her soul, her life force, was struck by the incredible burden of casting such an awesome spell. It fell upon her without mercy, threatening to crush and overwhelm her as she relentlessly upheld the spell.

Even though he did not know exactly what to do, or if he would succeed, Alamor understood that this was the time where he needed to lend his own ability. Acting by instinct, or perhaps by faith, he reached out and set his hand on Raissa’s shoulder, calling forth his own Serenity to support her.

Raissa’s magic acted like a wall that protected her from much of the burden. It kept her from submitting to the intangible duress, and once Alamor’s Serenity managed to reach it, they joined together as one barrier. Immediately, Alamor felt some of the burden test his own soul. It was as though he and Raissa stood in the middle of a hurricane, or against waves from the ocean’s most violent storm. The spell’s strain seemed intent to batter their souls and consume them.

But no matter how fiercely it attacked, Alamor and Raissa’s Serenity continued to ensure that they withstood the mystical onslaught without faltering, the two of them sharing in the burden and empowering one another as they met the great challenge.

In time, the strain began to yield to their indomitable wills. Alamor felt it slowly retreat with each passing second, and as he looked about, he saw the rotunda change. Golden light flew from Raissa’s body and engulfed the shadows that once flooded the rounded chamber, turning all matter around them into a white glow. The air itself became the white glow, running on in all directions for what seemed like an infinite distance. Only the altar, torches, and pedestal remained as the rest of the Sandstone Mausoleum faded from view.

The gold flames leapt from their torches and coalesced with the endless screen of immaculate radiance. They streamed over the holy realm in long rays of glistening energy, like when the sun would begin to climb from the horizon. The rays of gold energy pulsated. Every time they swelled, they were joined by a distant, humming sound that echoed quietly across the space. Alamor sensed that they were the utterings of virtuous souls who dwelled within this corner of the Hallowed Plane, a kind of chorus by the long-dead heroes of Tordale to honor their place in such a blessed dimension.

When the strain had dissipated, Alamor knew that Raissa’s efforts in bringing them to the Hallowed Plane were successful yet again. She ceased casting forth her Serenity, letting her arms fall to her sides as the golden light faded from her body. Alamor also halted his Serenity, and lifted his hand from her shoulder.

They both collapsed, their physical and spiritual beings exhausted.

* * * * *

A grin crept throughout Baldaron’s beard as he brought his advance to a halt. He scanned the hills that lay before him, spying several courtyards and open-air catwalks that had been carved into the ridge long ago. In all of the years that he spent living in the Arid Reaches, he never stepped foot upon this ridge until now, but he knew the significance of what stood within the sandstone formations, and who tread inside of them at that very moment. He had been able to sense Princess Raissa’s Serenity for a few days now, using it as a guide to cross the desert and eventually arrive at the Sandstone Mausoleum, the resting place of the Spirit Shrine that led to Ralu’s Radia.

“Can you still sense them?” Golric asked as he joined Baldaron at his side.

“Not any longer,” Baldaron answered. “But I am certain that they have not fled. I felt a tremendous outpouring of their Serenity only a few minutes ago, until it vanished altogether.”

Golric appeared to deduce what had happened. “Then they must have traveled into the Hallowed Plane to find the Radia of Hope.”

Baldaron nodded. “That is what I assume. I do not feel the Radia of Hope’s power moving any further from us.”

“We should move out at once, then,” Golric advised. “We’ll be able to trap them before they even have the chance to escape.”

Baldaron smirked. “We will do just that,” he said, as he turned away from the Sandstone Mausoleum. He faced his hordes of Wraithlings, looking directly at Captain Ironbone. “Take a third of our force and make for the eastern end of the resting grounds. I will move in upon the center, while my uncle will advance from the western end with the remainder of the troops.”

Ironbone’s chipped teeth curled into a smile that dripped with malice. He reached to his side and pulled free his jagged sword, his red eyes slithering along its rusted edges. “In that case, leave that whelp who’s been protecting the Princess to me. He and I have matters that we need to finish.”

“Be sure that you leave no doubt about them this time,” Baldaron said.

Ironbone’s eyes flickered with ghoulish delight. “I promise you, my Lord, I will see to it that he endures far worse than a long fall this time.”

23

Raissa’s vision slowly steadied. When her senses finally returned, the first thing that she did was look behind her. Alamor knelt on the Hallowed Plane’s floor no more than an arm’s length away. Labored breaths escaped him as his head dangled near his chest.

“Are you okay?” Raissa asked, wanting to move closer to him, but unable to find the strength to do so.

It took a few moments before she got a response. “I’m more concerned if you are.”

Raissa managed a smile even amid reclaiming her own breath. “I’ll be just fine. At least I’m able to look up.”

She could see the grin crawl across Alamor’s face even as he continued to stare at the floor. When he finally did lift his gaze, he chuckled softly. “This is exactly why I need you around if this whole plan is ever going to work.”

He was clearly still weary from withstanding the strain of Raissa’s monumental spell, but Alamor got himself on one foot and forced himself off the floor. When he found his balance, he offered Raissa his hand and helped her to her feet.

Raissa’s vision swayed. It steadied after a few moments, and she began to gently move her extremities, gradually bringing life back to her fatigued form. Alamor did the same, and after a few minutes, they were able to start walking without difficulty.

“What are we supposed to do this time?” Alamor asked, obviously referring to how they would find the Radia of Hope.

Raissa scanned their surroundings. She followed the many rays of gold light that pulsated in cadence with the echoes of the souls who dwelled within this divine space.

There was one particular presence that stood out to her.

“I believe that we’re going to know very soon,” she said, waiting for the presence to make itself known.

Footsteps echoed across the Hallowed Plane somewhere behind them. They turned to find a woman standing just a few yards away. She once hailed from the Arid Reaches, Raissa assumed, judging by her rich, brown complexion. Her black hair fell straight, flowing far past her shoulders. She bore a wooden staff that was longer than she was tall, its surface painted with a bright orange dye.

A white cloak wrapped about most of her slender frame. She wore brown garments underneath the cloak—tight fitting pants, and a tunic with billowing sleeves. An orange symbol lay on the front of her tunic. It was an orb, with several droplets that looked like grains of sand falling within its contours.

Her dark eyes were naturally sharp. She did not glare at Alamor and Raissa, but there was innate austerity in her demeanor—a signal to the ardor she possessed for her duty.

In their first journey to the Hallowed Plane, Alamor and Raissa met with Ilios and Iras. Now, they knew that they met with the other Sage of Loyalty—Amanyra.

“I expected that you both would one day join me in this corner of the Hallowed Plane,” Amanyra said. Her tone was decidedly more welcoming than that of Ilios and Iras. “From this place where I have stood guard, I watched your meeting with my brothers. The two Echoes of Light who stood in the Hallowed Plane that day are a distant memory to the two who stand here now.”

As strange as that sounded—to refer to an event from weeks ago as distant—it was an accurate assessment. Amanyra seemed to verbalize the perception which Raissa had for her and Alamor’s dramatic maturation in recent days.

“Lady Amanyra,” Raissa addressed her. “We hope that we are worthy to join you in this sacred realm.”

“You are,” Amanyra confirmed. “You have been strengthened by the ordeals that you have overcome both individually, and together. You have grown into heroes who are more capable of protecting your world from the darkness that threatens to overtake it. You have come this time in the hopes of obtaining Ralu’s Radia, is that not correct?”

Alamor stepped forward and met Amanyra with a fearless, determined stare—a vastly different countenance from what he showed Ilios and Iras. “That is correct, Lady Amanyra; we have come to claim the Radia of Hope,” he declared, his voice unwavering.

Raissa felt great pride in Alamor as she watched him draw his sword and shield. She waited with bated breath, her body tense as a drawn bowstring as they both prepared for Amanyra’s response. Some kind of test surely awaited, a challenge that would prove they were worthy of returning to their world with the Radia of Hope. She took a step forward and joined Alamor by his side.

Amanyra may not have had a second companion to assist her, as Ilios and Iras each had, but she was a mighty Champion of Light in her time on earth. Surely, she was still a mighty Champion of Light in the Hallowed Plane. Even by herself, she would provide a tremendous challenge to those who confronted her.

Raissa would not let Alamor face this task alone. They would face it together.

“Then I shall grant you the Serenity which you seek.”

Before Raissa could comprehend what Amanyra had said, she saw a wondrous light out of the corner of her eye. She and Alamor both turned and saw that light emerged from the surface of the pedestal nearby. No longer empty, the pedestal’s flat top now held a spherical stone. It was milky gold in color, its reflective surface perfectly smooth and bereft of any abrasions or other marks. Golden light poured from its rounded form, but its rays did not blind Alamor or Raissa. They were able to look upon its incredible radiance with ease. The light was warm and soothing, like an aura that cast away all fear and worry as it protected whatever stood within its reach.

Even without laying her own hands upon it, Raissa could feel the power that lay inside the Radia of Hope—all of Ralu’s unequaled love and compassion.

She eventually looked back at Amanyra, baffled by how readily the Sage of Loyalty offered up the Radia to them. “Lady Amanyra, do you have no test for us?” she asked

“None as great as what you have already completed,” Amanyra answered.

Alamor, too, looked away from the Radia of Hope and faced Amanyra. “But aren’t we supposed to prove that we are worthy before we possess one of the Radia?”

“You both have already done so,” Amanyra said.

“I do not understand,” Raissa replied.

Amanyra took a step forward and began to approach them.

“When Ralu and Xogun left your world and created the Radia, they appointed my brothers and I to guard over the vessels of their unequaled Serenity in this blessed sanctuary. In doing so, they also appointed us to judge whether those who may come to claim it would be worthy, or unworthy of wielding their power. To possess the Radia of Gallantry—the Radia that houses all of Xogun’s strength, courage, will, and vigor—one must possess all of those abilities, as well.”

Amanyra stopped just a few feet from them. Her eyes fell toward Alamor.

“With your Serenity, you proved that you possessed those qualities, young Champion of Light. You conquered your doubts and matched my brothers in combat, all to protect someone very dear to you.”

Raissa looked to the Radia of Hope once again. “Then, does someone have to prove that they harbor the same love that Ralu had, if they wish to use the Radia of Hope?”

“More than that,” Amanyra answered. “One must also possess the same faith, compassion, hope, and understanding to be worthy.”

Raissa remained confused as to why Amanyra was granting them Ralu’s Radia. “Then, how have we proven ourselves worthy of it? You said before that no test of your own was as great as what we’ve completed. What have we done to show that same faith or understanding as Ralu?”

Amanyra’s answer was immediate. “You have come together even when fate has attempted to keep you apart. I have watched over your journey since you first came to the Hallowed Plane and obtained the Radia of Gallantry. I have seen the many hardships that you two have overcome together. Like any two mortals, neither of you are free of fault. Anger, misunderstanding, and regret challenged your devotion to one another, separating you a far greater distance than that storm and Baldaron’s monsters ever did. But no matter the divide, you both continued to believe in one another, and desired more than anything to reunite. Through your Serenity, and your faith in one another, that desire was eventually fulfilled. You followed a Gleaming Path to reunite.”

The Sage’s words were powerful, perhaps the most profound that Raissa had heard throughout their quest for the Radia. Indeed, she and Alamor had been tested over the last few weeks—physically, mentally, and above all, emotionally. No matter the threats or dangers that she ever encountered, the foremost thing on her mind was reuniting with Alamor and witnessing his emergence as a hero of Tordale, one of the Echoes of Light.

She looked over at him, and when their gazes met, they both smiled.

Amanyra spoke again. “Thus, you are capable of wielding the Serenity stored inside the Radia of Hope. Whichever of you wishes, it is yours to claim.”

Alamor glanced at the brilliant orb for a few moments before he turned his eyes to Raissa. “You should be the one for that,” he said, still smiling.

Raissa’s smile faded, but out of respect—and perhaps a measure of uncertainty—for the unparalleled responsibility that she was granted. She stepped toward the pedestal, her body bathed by the Radia of Hope’s gentle light. She stared into its gleaming surface for a few moments, looking at the reflection of her stoic expression that joined the sacred radiance.

She reached out and took the Radia in her hands.  At once, its magic washed over her fingers and coated her skin. Raissa felt the boundless Serenity flow into her being, capturing her in its benevolent touch. Ralu’s most righteous virtues came to Raissa in their grandest forms—compassion, truth, hope, and above all, love. They joined into a source of power that could stand firm against the most wicked of evils and cast all darkness away. Raissa immediately understood how this vessel could heal all pain, doubt, and worry that may afflict any living being, or even their eternal soul.

Alongside that beautiful power was Ralu’s desire for good and peace to reign in the world—a desire that Raissa so strongly shared.

Raissa lifted the Radia of Hope from the pedestal, staring into it with wonder, just as Alamor did.

Both Radia were finally theirs. After so much struggle, they finally had obtained the two sacred sources of Serenity that could hopefully rid their world of Baldaron’s baleful magic.

When she and Alamor turned, they saw that Amanyra was no longer alone. Two men stood with her. They were dressed the same: white cloaks with silver fastenings, indigo garments beneath, the symbol of a diamond with leaves falling within the edges woven in white upon their tunics. They bore the same physical features, save for that one’s head was shaved, and the other with thick, sepia hair tied in a braid.

Ilios and Iras had joined them in that corner of the Hallowed Plane. All three Sages of Loyalty—Ralu’s and Xogun’s very first disciples—faced Alamor and Raissa.

“We had hope that your feats would not end with obtaining Xogun’s Radia,” Ilios said. “We are most pleased to see that you have proven worthy to possess both of our masters’ Serenity.”

“What you two have accomplished here is a monumental event across all planes of time and existence,” Iras added. “Ralu and Xogun may have entrusted us three to watch over their Serenity, but we were only keepers of it. You two are wielders of the magic that will triumph where all other powers, energies, and abilities would falter.”

They were subtle, but Raissa was certain that she saw smiles reach across Ilios’s and Iras’s faces. There was genuine joy behind them, perhaps thrill from seeing their centuries-old duty finally realized.

If Amanyra shared the same emotions, she did not reveal them. Her stolid expression did not flinch.

“My brothers are here for more than just to commend you two,” she said. “They have joined me to bear witness as I tell you what only the Sages have ever known, and what we have never revealed to the mortals who visited the Hallowed Plane.”

Amanyra tapped the end of her staff onto the Hallowed Plane’s depthless, white floor. A dark shimmer pooled beneath her feet. It flowed from where she stood, like the current of some inky, black river that swallowed up anything in its path.

It expanded as it ran across the Hallowed Plane, like a chasm through the earth. Startled when it came near, Raissa and Alamor jumped out of its way, although they quickly realized that it was merely an ethereal image.

They watched it with just as much suspicion as they did curiosity. At first, all that the void showed was utter darkness, but lights eventually began to twinkle within the gloom. Faint veins of color and distinct shapes slowly emerged.

“In being worthy to wield the Radia, you completed trials which proved that you two possessed truly incredible will and faith,” Amanyra said. Her voice rose, signaling the importance of what she intended to proclaim. “To earn the right to meet with Ralu and Xogun, who will help you channel the full extent of their Serenity within the Radia, you must still prove your truth, just as Ralu foresaw in her final moments. Before you attempt that, you should know the truths behind magic.”

Raissa only glanced at Amanyra for a split second while the Sage spoke. When she looked back at the void, it had become filled by dazzling sights. It was like a view into the infinite cosmos. Blazing stars spread their light wherever they could reach, fiery comets streaked throughout the universal depths, and other celestial bodies radiated within this look across space and reality. Some simply hung within the darkness and glowed; others pulsated violently until they disappeared in a burst of light. When the light faded, smaller, similar shapes appeared, taking the place of the celestial body that disintegrated and beginning the cycle anew. Whorls and streams of color—some bright, others bold—twisted about the stars and comets, their chromatic currents twinkling as if filled by clusters of diamonds.

Two objects within the wondrous display caught Raissa’s attention. They moved gracefully about the empyreal realm as they exuded golden auras. The more that Raissa watched them, she discerned they looked more like figures than objects. The shapes, the limbs—they resembled humans.

She could not study them any further before Amanyra continued.

“Here in the Hallowed Plane, we Sages are able to view glimpses into all worlds, dimensions, and eras of time,” Amanyra said. “It is through this act which Ralu, Xogun, and all other Sages who followed them learned of the origins of our homeland, Tordale. Long before our kingdom was formed, the universe was home to a group of mighty beings who knew incomprehensible power, and none of the limitations which flaw mortals. These beings were exempt from the laws of time and matter, for they were the ones who created those laws in the first place. They held dominion over the many elements and energies that form existence. It is unlikely that they even had minds or emotions in the way that we as sentient beings understand. Instead, they acted through a supreme cognizance that only sought to guide the fullest use of their powers.”

“Sort of like instincts?” Alamor asked.

“Perhaps,” Amanyra answered. “But infinitely vaster than you or I can comprehend.”

The view into time and space seemed to narrow, fixating on the figures that Raissa watched before. With a closer look at them, she was certain now that they bore the forms and proportions of humans. She could not assign a gender to either, however. No matter how closely she studied them, neither appeared to be distinctly man or woman. In fact, within the auras of gold light that surrounded them, some their bodily features occasionally morphed, constantly in flux.

“These beings did not have names that we Sages could learn, both for their kind and their identities,” Amanyra said. “We Sages eventually decided to call them the Ultimals. There were many of them, but none more powerful than the two you see before you, Bayaal and Unaya. Their particular energies were used to bolster all which comprised the universe, supporting the foundations of worlds and creating new realms of existence.”

A new shape materialized within Amanyra’s conjured scene. It was a mass of crimson essence, crackling and flaring from the inside out. Its shape—if it could even be described as that—was like a conglomeration of many twisting arms, all ending in jagged digits, like a crown of blades. Those arms repeatedly groped for anything nearby. When they took hold of something, whether it was a star, a comet, or another celestial body, they tore it asunder until the object was no more.

“The only Ultimal who was as mighty as Bayaal and Unaya was Anatsu, who kept their acts in check. While Bayaal and Unaya created and strengthened, Anatsu destroyed. Sometimes, that more so meant deconstructing, separating the many parts which made up something great and liberating them, but in most cases, it meant total eradication from time and space.”

“Was Anatsu an evil Ultimal?” Raissa asked.

Amanyra’s eyes darkened. She seemed to be conflicted by Raissa’s question. “We Sages have never been able to determine that. As an Ultimal, Anatsu’s destruction may very well have been out of malice; it is also possible that it was done to ensure balance across the universe. Whatever Anatsu’s intention, the other Ultimals were not fond of it. They sought to spread their energies without fear of their efforts being wasted. That was why they all banded together to combine their energies into one creation—what would become our world, Tordale.”

The depictions of Bayaal and Unaya were suddenly joined by a multitude of other Ultimals. They came in all manner of shapes and forms. Some were amorphous masses of light and color, while others vaguely resembled earthly creatures, elements, or landforms.

One by one, they appeared to cast their essence down onto a single point in the vast universe, all guiding their unique powers for the same purpose. Upon that point, images of a continent flashed by, offering glimpses at the many regions of Tordale.

“Each Ultimal added their own energy to Tordale, creating the land, the oceans, the skies, the elements, wild creatures, sentient beings, the many emotions which lifeforms live by, and all other constructs that make up the world we have known,” Amanyra explained. “Where Bayaal and Unaya created humans, other Ultimals created the races we share Tordale with—the Aesur, the Baroso, the Bachus, the Onda, and those which have not yet been discovered by Tordalians. All mortal beings were the manifestation of balance, for they were made in the supernal image of the Ultimals, but burdened by such limitations like age, health, and knowledge.”

“But Anatsu did not recognize this combined effort by the other Ultimals. Anatsu saw it as a grave overreach of their powers, and sought to destroy what they created. When the other Ultimals stood in defense of the world that they shaped, Anatsu did not relent.”

In the ethereal scene, the representation of Anatsu expanded. Its arms grew longer, and multiplied in number. The other Ultimals threw themselves against it, ardently defending their beautiful creation, but none could match the immense power of Anatsu. Its hideous limbs captured the Ultimals, and its blade-like digits rent them until they were no more.

“As each Ultimal was destroyed, they committed a final act in defiance to Anatsu,” Amanyra said. “Before they were unceremoniously torn from existence, the Ultimals released their energies into Tordale.” As Amanyra detailed this part of the world’s distant history, two figures became the focus in the battle against Anatsu. One looked like an airy, cloudy wave, its finer details and contours resembling a host of wings. The other was a winding, aqueous stream, like a great tentacle of pristine water. “The energies that the Ultimals directed into Tordale became what we mortals came to know as magic. The Ultimal called Daikon, who created the Aesur, granted their race the power of Airtaming. Meanwhile, there was Toja, who created the Onda, and gifted them with the magic of Waveweaving.”

Although Daikon, Toja, and nearly every other Ultimal fell to Anatsu’s rampage, two still challenged it. Bayaal and Unaya stood firm, holding back its advance even when they were the very last of their kind who helped create Tordale. Just when it appeared that they too would be overwhelmed by Anatsu, the golden radiance around their bodies magnified. It spread in all directions, engulfing the epochal event.

When the golden light dispersed, and the view into the cosmos returned, Bayaal and Unaya were no longer there. Neither was Anatsu.

But Tordale still lay within the universe, untouched by the legendary conflict between Anatsu and the other Ultimals.

Amanyra no longer spoke with the same, resolute volume as she did before. Her voice lowered, sobering as she recounted the ending to this event from eons ago. “Bayaal and Unaya did not survive the battle, but their resolve to protect what they created was so great, greater than that of any other Ultimal, that it gave them the strength to strike down Anatsu in their final moments. They too cast their energies down into Tordale, as did Anatsu. All of them hoped that new participants, the wielders of magic, would continue the battle in another age.”

Raissa’s eyes broadened. Amanyra did not need to speak any further for the realization to come to her. She looked to the Sages of Loyalty, who stared back at her stoically, as if waiting for Raissa to declare her understanding.

“Bayaal’s and Unaya’s energies became Serenity,” Raissa said. “And Anatsu’s became…Scourge. That is why Serenity is magic that protects and heals, while Scourge only corrupts and destroys…”

Amanyra nodded wordlessly. She tapped her staff onto the Hallowed Plane’s floor again, and in the blink of an eye, the ethereal window that showed the history of the Ultimals vanished.

“What I have just told you is history that no living being in Tordale is aware of,” Amanyra noted. “You have only been granted this knowledge because you two have already proven the will and the faith that the Legend of Light dictated. Use this knowledge wisely to achieve the truth that will be the key to saving Tordale from Scourge’s return.”

“There is something I must ask about the Legend of Light, if I am allowed,” Raissa said.

“You may utter any question that comes to you,” Amanyra replied. “But I cannot answer all.”

In spite of Amanyra’s blessing, Raissa was still nervous. What she meant to ask was a bold question; it did not help any that she was directing it to one of the Sages of Loyalty. “Alamor and I have earned the honor to possess the Radia, but our own Serenity is not great enough yet that we can harness their true power.”

Ilios interjected before she could finish. “Remember that no one could use the Radia to their whim. Ralu and Xogun intended for them to be used by only the most worthy mortal beings, the Echoes of Light.”

Raissa sensed that Ilios’s interruption was not intended to chide. It was merely a reminder that she must regard the Radia with nothing but only the utmost reverence. “I understand all of that,” Raissa said. “But what I don’t understand is why we must prove ourselves even further to fully wield the Serenity in the Radia. Why do Ralu and Xogun not allow us to use the Radia right now?”

Neither Ilios nor Iras appeared to have an answer for the question, or they simply felt that Amanyra was best suited to address it.

She stared at Raissa silently, still as a statue. Raissa began to fear that she might have angered all three of the Sages of Loyalty.

Amanyra’s gaze eventually softened. She actually appeared to release a sympathetic sigh. “That, unfortunately, is one such question that I cannot answer, young Princess of Tordale. It is not for me to say what Ralu’s and Xogun’s reasoning might be. All that I can tell you is that, in your current states, there is more you must accomplish before you are capable of controlling the Serenity that Ralu and Xogun bestowed upon your world. The only way you may do that is to live up to the rest of the feats proclaimed in the Legend of Light, and then prove such before Ralu and Xogun.”

“Then, can you take us to them?” Alamor asked.

“Even if we could defy the Legend of Light, that act is beyond my own power, as well as my brothers’,” Amanyra answered. “We are able to return your corporeal bodies to your world, but we are not able to move corporeal beings through this realm.”

“What about Ralu and Xogun, though?” Alamor pressed. “Can’t they bring us to them? Or can’t they come to where we are now?”

“They can do neither,” Ilios spoke up.

“But how can that be?” Raissa questioned. She was more baffled by the answers than she was exasperated. “Ralu and Xogun were the greatest Spiritcasters who lived, the greatest heroes who ever lived. How do they not have the power to do any of that?”

“Because you two have their power now,” Iras said.

Both Raissa and Alamor went silent. The confusion, the frustration, they both evaporated as a fantastic truth slowly dawned upon Raissa.

Alamor’s eyes eventually fell from the Sages of Loyalty. He reached into the pouch at his side. He pulled free the Radia of Gallantry, and cradled it in his hands just as Raissa cradled the Radia of Hope.

For the first time since she appeared there in the Hallowed Plane, Amanyra smiled. It was as bright and as sincere as a human, whether mortal or Sage, was capable of. “You both must remember that all souls who rest in the Hallowed Plane were once mortal, too. Although our powers and our responsibilities may have changed, we are still the same beings who once existed in your temporal world. Our physical forms perished, but we exist through our minds and hearts. Our souls continue to exist here in the Hallowed Plane. We are not omnipotent, nor are we infallible—you two saw that when Alamor matched Ilios and Iras in combat. This is true even for those who you consider the mightiest—Ralu and Xogun. Their Serenity was not solely connected to their mortal bodies. It would have remained with them when they ascended here to the Hallowed Plane had they not chosen to leave it behind in the world you came from. They possess very little if any of their magic, any longer. You two now possess it. They wanted it that way; they knew that their magic could be put to greater use in the hands of mortals than in the Hallowed Plane.”

All at once, Raissa felt another profound realization hit her. She was in awe of the understanding that Amanyra brought to her. “Ralu and Xogun created the Radia because that was the only way they could continue to protect our world, wasn’t it?” Raissa asked. “They wouldn’t be able to use their Serenity from beyond the Hallowed Plane…because no Sage can.”

Amanyra nodded. “Just as there are laws and limitations in the realm of mortal beings, there are also laws and limitations within the Hallowed Plane. Souls who dwell here cannot interact directly with the world we once inhabited. We may watch over it, we may welcome those mortals who reach out to us, but we cannot reach out to them in their world. If we could, there would be no meaning for death. Where there is no meaning for the death that takes you into the afterlife, there is no meaning for the preciousness that mortal life has in all temporal beings. That is how Bayaal, Unaya, and the rest of the Ultimals wanted it to be.”

Raissa noticed Alamor quietly put away the Radia of Gallantry. He looked up at the Sages of Loyalty, an expression of rising determination coming to his features. He did not say anything, however. Instead, he let his mask of conviction speak for him.

“Just as my brothers were confident that you would one day claim Ralu’s Radia, I can say that I am confident that you will prove worthy of meeting with our great masters,” Amanyra said.

She tapped her staff onto the Hallowed Plane’s floor, harder than the previous times. In another moment, the Hallowed Plane began to disappear around Alamor and Raissa.

* * * * *

“I’m still not sure this was a good idea.”

Joth stood with his arms crossed and his eyes fixed on the entrance to the Sandstone Mausoleum. Even as he spoke, he did not turn to face Tiroku.

“Accompanying them and deliberately keeping them off a certain path would only raise questions,” Tiroku replied. Unlike Joth, the Champion of Light stood relaxed, looking out over the sun-drenched ridges without any concern in his features. “Alamor and Raissa are far too smart to ignore such a ruse. They would see through it and grow suspicious of you in little time.”

“I’d rather they be suspicious than find those tombs,” Joth said, a grave nature coming to his words.

“That knowledge was bound to come to them at some point or another,” Tiroku countered. He turned his eyes to the rest of their group as they waited in the courtyard, settling his gaze on Tridian, who stood further away, next to Rawner and the Bachus. “You can’t expect that truth to escape them their entire lives, nor would it be good for them to remain unaware of it forever. It’s especially important that the Princess and the Prince understand that part of history if they are to spend the rest of their lives ruling this kingdom.”

“At this time, though?” Joth questioned. “I don’t disagree that they should eventually know about it, but is it wise for them to have that on their minds in the middle of this mission?”

A pause fell between the two men before Tiroku eventually answered. “By no means do I expect them to handle the knowledge with ease, but make no mistake, the pressures and rigors of this quest have only strengthened their resolves. It will not break them.”

Joth continued to stare ahead at the Sandstone Mausoleum’s entrance with hardened eyes. “I hope you’re right.”

With the discussion seemingly ended, Tiroku stepped away from Joth and walked across the courtyard to join some of their other companions. He stopped next to Dayneth and Elisstriss, who stood together surveying the tops of the hills that surrounded the Sandstone Mausoleum.

“You two have been looking about for a few minutes now,” Tiroku said to the Aesur women. “Are you trying to spot something?”

“Perhaps,” Dayneth answered, never taking her narrowed eyes off the rocky formations that encircled them. “I thought I heard many footsteps in the distance, like distant marching.”

“Have you heard it, also, Elisstriss?” Tiroku asked.

“I’m not certain,” Elisstriss answered. “My ears are not so accustomed to the way that sound travels here on the surface world, but it does resemble what my sister has described.”

Tiroku glanced over at the Aesur soldiers. Like Dayneth and Elisstriss, each of them had their eyes set on the hills, their faces masks of concentration as they listened intently. “Your soldiers seem to have heard something, as well,” Tiroku said, and turned to Tridian, Rawner, and the Bachus. “What about the rest of you?”

“Can’t say that I have,” Rawner answered, and pointed his thumb to the Bachus. “But Hinton and Pauma said that they got a funny whiff of something a minute or so ago. What was it you two said it smelled like, again?”

“All sorts of old things,” Hinton answered, his and Pauma’s noses pointed straight in the air and twitching incessantly. “It’s like a cloud of dust and rust suddenly wafted through here.”

“And that’s what is so odd about it,” Pauma added, “You’d think it was here because of this being one great burial ground and all, but we only picked up this scent just now. It wasn’t around when we first walked into this courtyard.”

As everyone else continued to try and discern the smells and sounds that they thought they detected, Tridian approached Tiroku. The Prince of Tordale wore a hardened look over his face as he whispered to the Champion of Light. “Tiroku, perhaps we should consider heading into the temple to try to find Alamor and my sister.”

Tiroku was about to answer, but Dayneth’s cry interrupted him.

“We’ve got company!”

Everyone’s eyes turned to the top of the ridges where she pointed. A row of Baldaron’s black-clad Wraithlings now stood near the precipice, staring back at their party.

24

Alamor and Raissa were not allowed to linger within the Hallowed Plane after the Princess of Tordale took the Radia of Hope into her possession. They had only a few moments to offer their gratitude and their goodbyes to the Sages of Loyalty before Amanyra commanded her great Serenity to send them back to Tordale, where they would continue their mission to fulfill the Legend of Light—now with unprecedented knowledge of the world they were hoping to protect.

As their bodies soared through dimensions, the Hallowed Plane slowly faded. The white screen that once filled the air around them began to thin, shadow once again taking its place. The gold rays of light shrank, twisting and crackling until they took on the form of flames. When the floor beneath Alamor and Raissa’s feet became solid stone, the torches materialized nearby, and the flames settled down within their grasp. In time, every trace of the Hallowed Plane was gone, and they stood inside the gloomy rotunda where their journey throughout the Sandstone Mausoleum ended.

But the darkness was not quite as stark as before now that Raissa stood with the Radia of Hope glowing within her hands.

“It’s a lot better when someone else uses all of that Serenity to make you travel to or from the Hallowed Plane,” Alamor said, grinning as he stretched his arms. He glanced over at Raissa. “Do you feel okay to start moving right away?”

She nodded. “Yes, it feels as though most of my strength has come back. We shouldn’t keep the others waiting much longer.”

“Then let’s get going,” Alamor said, and started forward.

He only took a few steps before he realized that they were not alone inside the rotunda. He stopped and listened without a breath as the sound of heavy footsteps fluttered out of the doorway at the other end of the bridge. The footsteps slowly, ominously echoed throughout the huge chamber. A pair of tiny, red glows soon appeared within the shadows. Alamor knew who approached them.

Captain Ironbone eventually stepped into the faint edges of light that reached over the chamber. He stopped in the very center of the bridge, as six smaller, armored Wraithlings also emerged from the shadows and halted a few yards behind him.

“Remember me?” Ironbone asked, a grin seemingly painted over his skeletal face.

Alamor’s only response was a cold glare.

Ironbone chuckled, and lifted his red eyes off of Alamor. He appeared to look past the young man. “I see that I’ve come at the perfect time. Let me guess, you two were planning to run back to your friends with that little rock she’s holding? Well, I’ve got some unfortunate news for you—I didn’t come here all by myself. My master and a good portion of his army have descended over this place and surrounded it. You and your allies are trapped.”

Alamor looked back at Raissa. No words passed between them—merely uneasy glances as Ironbone’s chilling revelation sank in.

“If I had to guess,” Ironbone continued, casually strolling closer to the platform in the center of the rotunda, “my master and the rest of his troops are probably slaughtering all of your companions as I speak. But, at least Lord Baldaron was generous enough to leave you two for me.”

Alamor reached behind his back with both arms, taking hold of his sword and shield. “If I were you, I would curse him for that,” he hissed.

“You’re still a bold little whelp, I see,” Ironbone replied. “Are you sure you want to challenge me again? You didn’t exactly fare well protecting your precious princess the last time.”

“Only one of us still wears a mark from that battle,” Alamor shot back.

Ironbone’s jaw fell open and loosed a hearty laugh, as if to acknowledge Alamor’s statement by showing his numerous chipped and cracked teeth. “Maybe so, but remember this, boy—when I cut you down here, there will be no one else to save the princess, or anywhere else for her to run. There will be nothing to stop me from bringing her to my master, and even I shudder to think at what he’s going to do to her.”

If Ironbone had any more to say, Alamor did not allow him the opportunity. Alamor flew toward the skeletal giant, fury taking over. Ironbone immediately brandished his jagged sword and his rounded shield, leaping forward to meet Alamor’s charge.

They came together where the bridge and the platform joined, their blades clashing and ringing throughout the empty chamber. Alamor commenced a frenzied assault, hoping to push his ghoulish foe back onto the narrow bridge and as far away from Raissa as possible, but Ironbone did not relent. Instead, the huge Wraithling used his great strength not only to deflect Alamor’s attacks, but also to strike back, forcing Alamor either to duck out of the way or lift his shield to block Ironbone’s ancient blade.

Each time that Alamor stopped one of the crushing strikes, it felt like someone slammed a tree trunk onto his shield. Ironbone’s strength was so great that even when Alamor withstood the blows, they jarred his arm and numbed his muscles for a few moments. Despite having rested within the Hallowed Plane, Alamor’s magical reserves were still replenishing after committing so much to the powerful spell that took him and Raissa into the sacred realm. He considered summoning his Serenity into his blade, but he knew that the drain would be crippling on his body. He would have a potent weapon, and no strength to wield it. Alamor cursed that deficiency; with his Serenity, he could end this duel in seconds. As it was, he had no choice but to hold off Ironbone long enough until he could safely call to his magic and cut the Wraithling down.

Their battle eventually spilled onto the platform, where Ironbone showed that he was equally as agile as he was powerful. For such a massive figure, he moved with deceptive speed and grace, deftly slipping away from Alamor’s attacks and striking from a number of angles. Alamor’s speed could not be outdone, however, and the two warriors continued their search for the first blow.

“You’re not going to call your lackeys to help you again?” Alamor taunted, as he noticed the smaller Wraithlings who entered the rotunda with Ironbone standing silently back on the bridge.

Ironbone chuckled fiendishly. “No, I won’t have any of them rob me of the pleasure in finally tearing you apart!”

The undead giant lifted his arm and brought his sword down in a deadly arc. Alamor hopped to the side and out of the way, but landed within the path of another blow.

Just as his jagged sword touched the stone floor, Ironbone spun and swung his shield toward Alamor. The iron surface slammed into Alamor’s chest, the bladed edge scraping over his armor and coming within inches of slicing his throat. Alamor instinctively rolled with the impact, saving himself from being thrown to the ground, and potentially from being beheaded.

When he returned to his feet, Alamor had no time to contemplate an attack. Ironbone rushed toward him, savagely pressing the advantage and hoping to catch Alamor off guard. Ironbone threw a vicious slash, but he did so with such reckless aggression that when Alamor shifted out of its way, he hung helpless within the air for a brief instant.

It was just enough time for Alamor to capitalize on the opportunity. He stabbed at Ironbone’s midsection, his blade slipping through a gap between Ironbone’s chest plate and faulds before shattering what Alamor could only assume was one of Ironbone’s ribs.

Alamor quickly pulled his sword free, and Ironbone came to a halt a few yards away. The skeletal warrior stood straight and flashed a wicked grin. The blow that Alamor landed would have crippled any living being, yet Ironbone did not so much as flinch.

“Did you forget?” Ironbone asked. “I am not flesh and blood like you. I haven’t known pain in hundreds of years.” Without warning, he bounded toward Alamor, drawing his jagged sword back to ready it for a vicious attack. “Killing me is not so simple as killing you!”

Alamor’s only reply was a silent call to the magic rooted deep in his spirit. Enough of his Serenity had been restored by then to summon without threat to his life force. It flowed into his sword, enshrouding the steel blade in a white light that tore through the shadows of the dark rotunda. He lashed out at the incoming Ironbone, swiping with his luminous weapon.

Ironbone held his shield up, but he did not realize the futility of his defense until Alamor’s blade seared through the iron plate and cut it in two. The great Wraithling was stunned for a split moment, which Alamor used to hurl a second slash that lobbed off Ironbone’s left arm past the elbow. Ironbone replied with a stiff kick that caught Alamor in the chest and pushed him away.

Not a second after he regained his footing, Alamor charged, but Ironbone still proved to be a threat even after losing a limb and weapon. The skeletal warrior suddenly leapt into the air, jumping so high that his boots cleared Alamor’s head by more than a foot.

Alamor could not slow his advance in time before Ironbone landed behind him. The undead giant brought his jagged sword down in a brutal arc over Alamor’s shoulder, nearly denting the white shoulder plate. The impact was so great that Alamor’s shield fell from his grip and skidded across the stone floor as he collapsed to his knees. As Alamor lay on stone surface, Ironbone reared back to swing his rusted blade for a fatal blow.

He never saw Alamor spin around and strike with his luminous sword three times. The first slash cleaved Ironbone’s sword in two. The second severed his hand just below the wrist.

The third cut his body clear in half. Alamor’s radiant weapon sliced through armor and bone effortlessly, tearing into Ironbone’s torso and searing through his ribcage until it came out the other side. Ironbone’s upper body seemed to hang in the air for a moment before it finally came crashing down to the platform floor. A moment later, his limp legs also toppled.

All at once, the sounds of battle faded from the rotunda. The only noise that broke the silence was that of the crackling flames in the nearby torches, and Alamor’s footsteps as he went to reclaim his shield. He strode away, refusing to pay Ironbone’s mangled body even a glance. When he came to his shield, he bent down and wrapped his fingers about the grip on the back before lifting it to his hip.

The moment that he did so, he heard Ironbone’s deep chuckle behind him. Alamor looked back, and Ironbone slowly turned his skeletal face toward him.

“So, this is what it feels like to fall in battle,” Ironbone said. Even after being struck down and his body mutilated beyond function, a ghoulish grin remained over his fleshless countenance. “I never knew defeat before now. When there was still skin and muscle on these bones of mine, I lived through hundreds of battles, surviving many without a single wound. It was age that finally killed me, not a weapon.” His battered jaw fell open and freed a chilling laugh. “I never believed that of all things to end me, it would be a boy who’s probably seen fewer years than he has battles.”

As Ironbone continued to laugh, Alamor stared back with an unflinching glare. He set his feet forward.

“It’s even more amusing because of the way that my master warned me about you,” Ironbone continued, indifferent to Alamor’s approach. “Baldaron always upheld that you were mightier than you appear. You proved his perception here, boy. But don’t think for a moment that what you’ve done to me puts you any closer to protecting your princess and saving this land. All that you have done here is bring yourself closer to facing Lord Baldaron. When you finally experience what he’ll do to you in battle, you will wish that you had fallen in this temple before m—”

Ironbone never finished speaking before Alamor’s sword slammed into his face. The radiant blade shattered his skull and struck the stone floor beneath, sending shards of bone flying. A wailing cry tore throughout the rotunda, as if a cold wind rushed out from Ironbone’s remains.

The symbol of Scourge that granted life to his skeletal form had been destroyed, and his soul retreated to whatever devilish realm that it hailed from.

Alamor stood and looked to the six Wraithlings that stood on the bridge. The ghostly suits stirred for the first time since entering the chamber. With Ironbone now destroyed, and no else to order them, they readied their weapons and charged.

Alamor ran toward them. He swung his sword with as much grace as he did confidence, the luminous edge slicing through his foes’ weapons and armor with ease. His magically charged blade so overwhelmed the Wraithlings that he did not even employ the use of his shield. His relentless onslaught acted as a superior defense to any metal surface. Eerie wails reverberated throughout the chamber as Alamor cut down the soldiers one by one, their Scourge symbols being severed and ending the dark spells that had brought them to life.

It was less than a minute before Alamor stood with the remains of all six Wraithlings strewn across the bridge behind him, not a trace of movement among them.

He looked back at Raissa, who stood on the platform silently marveling the products of his martial and magical skills. “Let’s get out of here and find the others,” Alamor said.

Raissa heeded his words and hurried to join him. “I hope that they have been able to hold off whatever other forces have attacked,” she said as they started out of the chamber.

“Me too,” Alamor whispered.

They exited the rotunda and stopped in the middle of the foyer with the sand-covered hallway before them. A group of Wraithlings ran about inside the massive burial chamber on the other side, numbering at least twenty or more to Alamor’s eyes.

The magically-animated suits quickly noticed Alamor and Raissa. They immediately charged, clearly unaware of the sinking pits within the shifting sand. The first few that stepped down onto the sand soon fell away into its dusty grip, causing the others to halt their advance and retreat. After a few moments of surveying their surroundings, the band of Wraithlings turned and sped in the direction of the same stairway that Alamor and Raissa used to reach the open air balcony outside.

The grim realization came to Alamor and Raissa instantly. “They’re going to find the entrance to this corridor in no time,” Raissa said.

“And those flames probably aren’t going to hold them off for long, if at all,” Alamor added.

Raissa turned and looked down the remainder of the hallway, into the direction that she and Alamor had not followed before. “There’s no guarantee that this way is safe, but I think it’s our only choice.”

Alamor tightened his grip about his sword and shield. “I’ll lead the way,” he said, and they took off in a sprint.

They sped down the corridor, running blindly into parts unknown of the Sandstone Mausoleum, silently hoping that they would not come upon any more of Baldaron’s troops. While Ironbone had expressed his confidence that Baldaron’s army had already felled them, the grisly possibility that Alamor’s friends were beyond help was something that he refused to accept. He knew that no matter how large of an army that Baldaron brought into the Arid Reaches, his companions were the most capable in Tordale to fend off such a daunting threat; they would hold off Baldaron’s troops to their last breath. If he and Raissa could find Tiroku, Tridian, Rawner, and all of the others, they could promptly opt for a hasty retreat into the Tower Mountains, where they could easily lose Baldaron’s troops among the rocky spires and continue with their quest.

It was just a matter of actually finding wherever they might be within the sprawling, maze-like Sandstone Mausoleum.

The hallway eventually brought Alamor and Raissa to a foyer that connected it to three other corridors. They only had a few moments to decipher which path might be best for them when they heard a chorus of metal feet from further down the hallway ahead of them. A few moments later, multiple armored forms hurried out of the shadows. Alamor did not let his eyes settle on them for long, but he guessed that he saw more than a dozen of the Wraithlings storming down the corridor.

He nearly urged Raissa to follow him down the adjacent hallway before he saw an orange flicker materialize in the darkness behind the oncoming horde. A fiery blast tore through the corridor without warning, engulfing many of the armored suits and shaking the entire foyer.

A cloud of smoke filled much of the hallway, masking the remaining Wraithlings that had not been obliterated by the explosion. Alamor could vaguely make out two other figures within the haze. Both moved like lightning through the smoke, white flashes of light following one’s steps, and flashes of steel following the other’s.

When the smoke cleared, every last Wraithling lay in a heap across the hallway floor. Tiroku and Tridian stood above their remains, while Hinton and Pauma came bounding down the hallway.

“Look at them!” Hinton cried out in elation. “They’re both all right!”

“And they got that second Radia they were looking for!” Pauma added with equal joy. “You two kids managed to do it again!”

“We’re just as happy about it as you two are,” Alamor said, taking a quick glance over his shoulder. “But now’s not the time to stand around and celebrate. There’s a big group of Wraithlings coming this way.”

Tiroku took heed of the warning and started down the hallway from which he, Tridian, and the Bachus emerged. “Then we’ll talk as we move. Follow me!”

The others obeyed, taking off in a dash just behind the Champion of Light. Tiroku clearly knew the path that he took them on, as he ran throughout the murky corridors of the Sandstone Mausoleum without a trace of uncertainty in his steps.

“It’s a good thing we found you when we did,” Tiroku noted while they hurried along. “If we spent much longer inside of here, we may have been separated too far from the others.”

“Where did Baldaron’s forces even come from?” Raissa asked.

“We don’t know for sure,” Tridian answered. “It was an ambush. They simply poured out from over the cliffs above the courtyard where we were waiting. We held off most of their initial attack, but we knew that they would overwhelm us in time, and we needed to find you two so we could escape. Luckily, we managed to spot an alcove that led us out of that courtyard and over the rest of the ridge. It eventually opened up into a much larger pass along the temple than that little tunnel you two entered through, and it seems to run into most of the other courtyards.”

“That was when we decided to break into two groups,” Tiroku explained. “Myself, Tridian, Hinton, and Pauma here chose to head inside to look for you two, while I had all of the others continue to make across the ridge toward the Tower Mountains.”

“So, everyone is still all right?” Alamor asked. “Rawner, Dayneth, Joth, and the others?”

“We hope so,” Tiroku answered. “Their goal was to fend off as much of the enemy as possible, sort of to act as a distraction while we searched for you and Raissa. As of when we separated, no one had fallen, yet, to Baldaron’s troops.”

“They’re still making for the Tower Mountains while they fight,” Tridian added. “Once we join up with them again, we’ll head that way and hopefully escape this attack.”

“The only problem is that there’s a whole mess of those armored fellas around these ridges—maybe hundreds of them!” Hinton said. “Master Tiroku here has let me use my blast orbs to blow them up, even in a sacred dwelling like this, but I don’t have anywhere near enough to make a great dent in the army that’s trying to end us!”

“Speaking of the enemy…” Tridian said, pointing down the hallway. At the other end, another squad of Wraithlings rounded the corner and began a headlong charge toward them. It was a much larger group than what Alamor and Raissa had run from earlier, containing at least thirty or more of the lifeless warriors.

“Alamor, stay with me in front!” Tiroku ordered as he charged to meet the oncoming foes. “Prince Tridian, bring up our rear and give us support!”

The three of them fearlessly met the Wraithlings and launched their own offensive. They acted as just Tiroku commanded. Alamor and the Champion of Light met the ghostly suits of armor first, lashing out with their luminous swords. The magically imbued blades hacked through a Wraithling every time they swung, taking off a limb, helmet, or an entire torso with each cut. Both Alamor and Tiroku had proven capable of handling a group of Wraithlings on their own without much difficulty; now that they fought together, they seemed nearly unstoppable.

Tridian hung behind them, facing what foes managed to slip past Alamor and Tiroku. While the Prince of Tordale may not have wielded a weapon as devastating as Alamor or Tiroku, he thwarted the attacks of multiple enemies. He swung his lance with such strength and ferocity that he regularly disarmed the Wraithlings or flung them away from his reach. Many smashed into the walls so violently that portions of their mail came apart upon impact and fell into a useless pile upon the floor.

Alamor, Tiroku, and Tridian vanquished well over half of the horde before another dozen came storming down the hallway. When Pauma spotted them, she reached into Hinton’s sack of blast orbs and pulled one free.

“Let me handle the rest of them, boys!” Pauma shouted as she lit the wick.

“Get back and hit the deck!” Hinton added.

The three warriors immediately turned and hurried back to where Raissa and the Bachus stood, throwing themselves onto the floor just as Pauma hurled the blast orb. The bomb landed in the center of the remaining Wraithlings and the new reinforcements, detonating only a split second later. The fiery explosion that flew out from it seemed to swallow up each armored suit, pulverizing and incinerating their black forms along with much of the hallway’s makeup around them.

When the rumbling stopped and the smoke began to break, Alamor and the others saw that the corridor had been cleared of every Wraithling.

But they also saw that more soldiers were coming. They peered down the length of the hallway and saw that it connected to another corridor that ran adjacent to it. Shadows of marching Wraithlings danced along the walls of that distant hallway, an ominous portent to another horde of Baldaron’s armored minions.

“What do we do now?” Alamor asked, looking back the way they came, also knowing that the troops they retreated from before gained on them with every passing second.

“We have no further time to waste,” Tiroku said as he hurried to where the blast orb detonated. He stopped along one of the walls that had been damaged by the explosion, looking down at a sizable hole near the floor. He kicked away at the loose stone and soon revealed a gaping gash within the rock. “There’s another hallway down here; everyone hurry and get inside!”

They followed Tiroku’s command one by one, slipping through the hole near the floor and landing into the small corridor beneath. Once all of them had dropped down, Tiroku took to the front of their group once again and led them onward. They passed through a number of hallways over the next few minutes, each one as black and as murky as the last. There were no torches in the cramped passages, nor crevices that allowed rays of sunlight to creep through the rock. Only Alamor’s and Tiroku’s shining blades illuminated the spaces around as them as they hurried along.

The walls about them trembled on more than one occasion, signs of when another Wraithling horde marched directly above. The echoes from the ghostly soldiers’ footsteps seemed to trickle throughout the stone, filling the tight air within the stygian hallways. It soon became apparent that they had been unbelievably lucky that Hinton’s blast orb revealed the lower passages. If they had continued through the hallways above, they would have encountered dozens more of the lifeless armored suits that hunted them.

They eventually came into a large chamber, one that was partially brightened by sunlight that spilled through an open doorway on the other side. The chamber was further illuminated by a pair of large candelabras hanging upon one wall, gold flames rising nearly two feet along the stone. In between the candelabras was another hallway that ran deeper into the Sandstone Mausoleum, seemingly wider than the closed-in passages as they had escaped through before.

“That should take us to the ridge outside,” Tiroku said, his eyes fixed on their intended exit. “Let’s go!”

They dashed across the chamber, running faster than ever as they closed in on the portal that would take them back out into open air, and hopefully to their remaining comrades.

But Tridian only got halfway across the spacious room before he stopped. Raissa was the first to notice, quickly stopping as well, but to look back at her brother.

“Tridian, what are you doing?” she called out.

When Tridian did not answer, Alamor came to a halt and glanced back at the Prince of Tordale.

Tridian never looked at either of them. He stood like stone in the middle of the chamber, his perplexed expression scanning what lay before him.

Alamor watched Tridian for only a few moments before he, too, began to look about the chamber. He eventually noticed its strange contents. On one side of the room lay rows of long objects that were wrapped in what appeared to be cloth or canvas. Upon further inspection, Alamor realized that they were bodies—the remains of long dead beings simply strewn on the cold, hard floor without any other kind of care.

As Alamor studied the many corpses, he noticed a bizarre trend among almost all. On one side of each body was a weapon—in most cases a sword or spear—that lay broken in two upon the floor. On the other side of the body was either a shield or a breast plate of armor, every single one also broken in half. What baffled Alamor the most, however, was what was painted onto each of the shields and breast plates.

A sitting panther surrounded by four diamonds.

“Don’t linger!” Tiroku’s voice boomed throughout the chamber. “We must go!”

His words did not reach Alamor, Raissa, or Tridian. They all continued to stare at the countless bodies and the broken tools of battle, each of them completely baffled by what they had found.

“Why would so many soldiers be placed like this?” Raissa asked. “Without any kind of tomb, or even a burial?”

“I…I don’t know,” Tridian answered, his voice low.

Their eyes eventually fell to an inscription that was engraved into the floor nearby, just inches before the first row of bodies. When they came to it, they each read it silently to themselves—

FOR THEIR UNFORGIVABLE PERVERSIONS OF THE ROYAL FAMILY’S NOBLE AMBITIONS, THROUGH THE SLAUGHTER OF UNTOLD INNOCENTS IN THE QUEST TO CLAIM THIS DESERT, MAY THESE MEN AND WOMEN BE DENOUNCED AS SOLDIERS AND SPIRITCASTERS IN SERVICE TO THE ROYAL FAMILY AND TORDALE.

MAY THEY NEVER SEE MERCY FROM ANY OF THE SAGES OR GREATER POWERS AS THEIR SOULS JOURNEY THROUGH THE REALMS BEYOND THIS EARTHLY EXISTENCE

A soft, almost inaudible gasp from Raissa was the first thing to break the heavy silence between them.

“How can this be?” Tridian whispered, traces of horror joining his words.

“All of you, hurry at once!” Tiroku roared from near the doorway to the outside, the urgency unmistakable in his tone.

Again it was as if none of them heard Tiroku.

But at least for Alamor, it was because he heard something else behind him.

It was faint at first, but it quickly magnified, growing louder and shriller as it seemed to purposefully seek him out.  In time, the sound multiplied, being joined by many others like itself—so many that Alamor soon could not discern one from the other. It was as if thousands of persons wailed aloud, each one expressing unfathomable agony in the form of a desperate, despairing cry.

Alamor soon realized that this was not the first time he had heard the sounds; he heard them before while he made his escape through Caldeya.

He turned slowly, thinking back to when he stepped into that plaza and felt the most sinister magic he could have ever imagined. His eyes stopped upon the other hallway that connected to the chamber, the one that he and his companions had not traveled in their flight.

Baldaron’s pale countenance was the first thing to emerge within the gloom. His huge form strode into the light from the nearby torches on the wall a few moments later, along with the many Wraithlings that waded out of the murky hallway behind him. They were the largest and most fearsome that Alamor and the others had witnessed among his ranks; each one over six feet tall, clad in bulky, rounded armor and wielding maces that looked as if they could fell a yew tree.

Baldaron stopped on the very edge of the light from the torches. Unlike the last time that Alamor and Raissa were in his presence, Baldaron showed no sign of a diabolical smirk or grin over his ghostly white features. His expression was eerily still.

“For all of you, this is your first time laying eyes upon these murderous soldiers,” he began, his deep voice rumbling throughout the chamber. His gaze finally settled upon Alamor, Raissa, and Tridian. “But I have seen many of these men and women before now, back when they still drew breath. I saw them when I was younger than any of you three. I can recall that very day that they stormed into my village like a pack of wild beasts, tearing our homes down to the sandy floor while mercilessly slaying my kin. My village was not the only one to be targeted. There were others that were wiped off the face of this continent, along with the innocent people who called them home. All of this was done in the name of King Aurilion Hokara’s vision to claim the Arid Reaches under his rule—a goal that sought power, but only brought death to the people of this region.” Baldaron’s eyes narrowed with a measure of bitterness. “Thus, fate has brought us together, for me to exact vengeance on the Hokara royal family and take its kingdom into my own grasp after all that was taken from me and my kin.”

Alamor and Raissa had no response for Baldaron as they stood frozen to the chamber floor, but Tridian faced the huge man as fury lit up his expression. “I don’t know what these soldiers may have done in the past, but my father did not command any kind of destruction while he ruled,” the Prince of Tordale retorted. “If you or anyone else in the Arid Reaches suffered injustice, it was not through any of my father’s decisions.”

Baldaron’s sunken eyes fell up and down along Tridian for a few moments, as if he studied the prince. “You are much like I imagined, Prince of Tordale, a living legacy to King Aurilion Hokara—bold, brash, and blinded by your ambitions.”

Tridian’s face twisted in rage. “Do not speak of my father that way, you wretch!”

“Why?” Baldaron asked, his voice rising. “Because you fear the truth that haunts your bloodline? Because you will not accept what great sins lie upon the Hokara name, sins conjured by your father as he attempted to guide his dominion across this desert? You see the many men and women behind you, their corpses disgraced and their souls condemned for their actions; actions that were only carried out because your father ordered them to march into this region.”

“Our father sought peace for the Arid Reaches,” Raissa spoke up. “He sent his armies here to protect the people who were threatened by the chaos that swept over this desert. Whatever these soldiers may have done that was evil, it cannot be blamed on our father!”

“And yet, you only know about these soldiers because you’ve happened to come across their corpses in your escape from this temple.” Baldaron’s declaration brought silence to the chamber, the realization striking Tridian and Raissa so hard that neither of them found words in reply. His gaze hardened. “You have probably seen the aftermath of their atrocities, though, in your journey throughout this region. Some among you must have come upon one of the towns or villages that they destroyed in their senseless campaign.”

Alamor immediately thought back to the day when he and his companions explored that ruined town. The ghastly understanding fell over him.

It had not been bandits who destroyed those homes and killed the many people whose bodies lay beneath the sand.

“You saw one of those towns, didn’t you, boy?”

Baldaron’s voice ripped Alamor away from his thoughts. Alamor looked at Baldaron, who stared back at him with a penetrating gaze.

“I can see the truth over your face; the horror in your eyes reveals that to me,” Baldaron continued. “Would it horrify you even more to know that it was not merely Tordalian soldiers who participated in the slaughter? That there were Spiritcasters, even Champions of Light, who joined them? They are still with them, even today. Just look at the five bodies that lie furthest from you in this chamber.”

Alamor hesitantly turned to the rows of bodies lined across the floor. Just as Baldaron said, there were five that sat alone near the far wall. No shields or chest plates bearing the royal family emblem joined them. Only two of the wrapped bodies had a weapon at their sides. Both were swords that were broken in half.

“At one time, those blades radiated with Serenity, just as your sword does at this very moment,” Baldaron went on. “And just as you do now, those Champions of Light pledged their blades and their magic to the Hokara royal family. Does your pride still remain in protecting your precious friend and her murderous bloodline, just like those Champions of Light did before?”

Alamor could not bring himself to face Baldaron again. His eyes were frozen to the alleged bodies of the Spiritcasters.

“If such an injustice has ever existed in our time, it is that a young boy who once revered the Sages like Ralu and Xogun saw his family killed and his home destroyed, while the people who served as their most devout followers were the ones to slay innocent beings,” Baldaron continued. “Even after I fled my ruined home, I prayed—pleaded—to the Sages, begging for their protection, but neither they nor their Serenity granted me any form of solace. I only found that when I swore myself to the magic that my uncle showed me—magic that the Spiritcasters across Tordale denounced as being ‘impure’. The Sages and their myths are lies. You, boy, and all Spiritcasters are a living lie to follow in their footsteps.”

“Don’t listen to a word he says, Alamor,” Tridian implored through barred teeth. “He’s only deceiving you with his twisted accounts.”

“Why is it that you think your father never told you about any of these soldiers, Prince Tridian?” Baldaron asked. “Why is it that you think his subjects have never spoken about them long after his death? That is because there is no deception that passes my lips. The atrocities that these warriors committed were tied to your father’s ambitions, making their sins his own. Your father surely died with tremendous guilt wracking his mind. He chose to leave this world holding onto that bloody secret so that his children’s conscious’ would never suffer the same way, nor would the name of the Hokara royal family be stained for its bloody campaign.”

“You lie!” Tridian exclaimed, his features taut with rage.

Baldaron finally forged a smile, and turned toward Tiroku. “If I lie, then ask your wise master as to what the truth is. Or, perhaps, simply ask him why he has not disputed anything I have said inside this chamber.”

Alamor, Raissa, and Tridian all looked to Tiroku, but the Champion of Light could not seem to meet their desperate gazes. He kept his ashen expression averted from them, his grim eyes staring into the floor, as if he had been defeated by Baldaron’s words.

“No…” Raissa gasped, her appalled eyes widening.

A moment later, Tiroku finally stirred. He aimed his sword in Baldaron’s direction, and a wall of blinding white light suddenly sprang up in front of the man and his Wraithlings. The curtain of pure Serenity concealed them so quickly that Alamor could not even see if Baldaron reacted to it.

Tiroku dashed across the chamber and took Raissa by the hand, promptly turning back toward their exit. “We must leave, now,” he said to them, his voice hoarse and commanding.

Although they were still in shock over Baldaron’s disturbing revelation, Alamor, Tridian, and Raissa followed Tiroku this time. They sped out of the room as fast as their legs would allow them, not daring to look back at any part of the burial chamber.

“That spell I cast to barricade them is very powerful,” Tiroku explained as they raced through the sun-drenched doorway that led them outside, “it will hold them off, but I cannot maintain it for very long without depleting my Serenity, entirely. We must make haste for the mountains.”

They hurried out of the Sandstone Mausoleum, feeling clean and fresh air envelop their bodies. After spending so long inside the temple’s murky halls, all of them aside from Hinton and Pauma were momentarily blinded by the bright sunlight. The Bachus, with their eyes being accustomed to drastic changes in light after living underground for all their years, could see with little issue, and apparently discerned which direction they needed to move in to rejoin their other companions.

Once Alamor’s eyes began to readjust, he saw that they had stepped outside into a tall and wide path within the ridge, like a cut within the base of a mountain. The walls were steep and uneven on one side, naturally formed over the ages, while on the other side was the articulate and ornate exterior of the Sandstone Mausoleum, expertly carved down to the very inch by ancient masons of long ago.

As they ran through the pass, Alamor began to hear a number of sounds reverberating along the rock that told him a battle was nearby. Shouts, cries, and the ringing of metal clashing against metal grew louder with each stride he took. They eventually came to the foot of an incline within the pass. As they ran up the steep slope, Alamor was certain that they would reunite with their comrades.

His intuition proved true, but their comrades were also joined by waves of Wraithlings, all of them coming together in a widespread melee across a flat, sprawling portion of the ridge. Baldaron’s forces encircled Alamor’s companions and attempted to overwhelm them, but thus far had been thwarted. As Alamor briefly surveyed the carnage, he saw many of the armored suits lying limp and motionless, while it appeared that not one of his companions had been felled by the ghostly soldiers.

He found himself in awe of the way that his comrades fended off their lifeless foes. The Aesur soldiers who had accompanied Elisstriss fought with rhythmic grace, their slender limbs granting them speed and agility that it made it almost difficult to follow their blinding movements.

Alamor could hardly believe the way that those Aesur who wielded spears struck so deftly. They swung the long weapons as though the spears were weightless. He was also amazed by the Aesur who fought while wearing the talon-shaped blades upon their wrists and ankles. Those soldiers looked like living weapons as they danced throughout the chaos, each punch and kick that they hurled at a Wraithling proving to be as deadly as any sword stroke. The strikes were quick and precise, but they also carried enough force that they regularly floored an armored soldier in just a single blow.

Still, it was Elisstriss who drew Alamor’s greatest awe. She stood above the widespread battle, casting her magic into the very air beneath her and commanding it to levitate her body ten feet over the ridge floor. It was not all that she used her magic for. As she hung in mid-air, she continued to conjure her abilities and use them to hold off many of Baldaron’s soldiers. With a wave of one arm she would command a gale of unthinkable strength to lift an enemy off its feet and hurl it away as if it were a pebble; with another gesture, she would emit a rush of furious air that was powerful enough to overwhelm several Wraithlings at once and send them skidding across the ridge floor. She chained together spell after spell, each new motion in her arms acting as a prelude to a new and vigorous manipulation over the air that Baldaron’s troops were helpless to withstand. Some of the Wraithlings attempted to shoot her down by hurling their weapons at her, but Elisstriss was always aware of their throws and deflected each projectile with another gust of wind.

Ausmus and Dayneth were directly beneath her, relentlessly fending off any Wraithling who set their sights on Elisstriss. They attacked with even greater speed and ferocity than any of the other Aesur warriors. Ausmus’s bladed talons and Dayneth’s bladed rings flashed through dark mail with nearly every motion of their bodies.

Tiroku eventually leapt into the carnage and began to push his way toward Dayneth and Ausmus, with Alamor and the others following him. Alamor and Tridian surrounded Raissa and cut down any Wraithling who strayed too close to the Princess of Tordale, while Hinton and Pauma each tossed a blast orb into the largest cluster of soldiers that they could spot. When they joined Dayneth’s and Ausmus’s sides and began to fend off the remaining troops near Elisstriss, it allowed the Aesur warriors their first moment of rest since the battle had begun.

“You’ve come at the perfect time,” Dayneth said as she caught her breath. “I don’t think we can hold off this horde for much longer, even with you all here.”

“Has anyone been lost?” Tiroku asked, as he sliced an armored soldier in half with his searing sword.

“Not yet,” Ausmus answered. “But if we remain here much longer, it’s only a matter of time. Elisstriss is becoming especially weary; she’s summoned a tremendous amount of her magic already. Before, she held off an entire swarm of soldiers nearly this size. If she continues to fight, her body and spirit will eventually fail her.”

Dayneth turned her eyes to Raissa, her gaze settling onto the Radia of Hope. “If we’ve obtained what we’ve come here for, Tiroku, we need to retreat before it’s too late—for all of us.”

“Then we will move out at once,” Tiroku decided, and looked up at Elisstriss. “Come down!”

Elisstriss heeded Tiroku’s command and ended the spell that granted her levitation. The moment that her feet touched the ridge floor, she swayed and nearly collapsed. It was only when Ausmus took her in his arms and held up upright that she began to steady herself.

“Forgive me, but I do not know if I can use my Airtaming any further,” Elisstriss said, bringing a hand to her head and trying to regain her composure. Her voice was filled by the fatigue that must have weighed down her entire body.

“You have no reason to apologize, your Swiftness; you fought more admirably than any of our own warriors here today,” Ausmus said to her. “Will you be okay to move?”

Elisstriss nodded with a wince, but she then straightened. “I will need some help, most likely, but I’m certain that I can manage at least that.”

Tiroku appeared to have listened in on their exchange. The moment that Elisstriss finished, he spun around and started to move through the battle, this time in the direction of the Tower Mountains. “Then let’s get out of here!” he yelled as he began to cut through several armored soldiers that blocked his path.

Rawner and Joth, who had been nearby, quickly rushed to Tiroku’s side. “Allow us to lend some help, Master Tiroku!” Rawner said. They added their efforts to Tiroku’s and soon cleaved their way through the Wraithlings, primarily through Rawner’s immense strength. Each time that the big man swung his poleax, he sent two or more of the lifeless foes hurtling through the air and out of their way.

Behind them, Dayneth rallied the Aesur soldiers to move out. They wasted no time in breaking away from the melee, and soon their entire group was retreating from the Sandstone Mausoleum toward the Tower Mountains.

Tiroku and Joth continued to guide their party as they raced over the ridge, but Rawner fell back through their numbers toward the rear. Baldaron’s forces had not hesitated to pursue them, and there were several Wraithlings that came mere strides away from the back of the group. Rawner placed himself at the end of their formation and held off every armored being that stepped too close to their party, often breaking the animated suits apart with a mighty blow from his poleax.

He succeeded in removing the threat of those swiftest among Baldaron’s forces, but his efforts only vanquished a fraction of the enormous horde that chased after them over the ridge. This grim truth became painfully evident to Rawner and the others as the ridge floor gradually rose beneath their feet throughout their escape and eventually gave them a long view of the rocky slopes below.

All of Baldaron’s forces that attacked the Sandstone Mausoleum had come together as one, growing from a horde into an army. From afar, they looked like a giant wave of pure blackness that slithered up along the slopes. The countless armored suits ran tirelessly over the ridge’s gritty floor, showing no signs of slowing down as they mindlessly pursued the group of mortals that challenged their master’s conquest.

In time, the ridge floor leveled again, and they came to a wide, flat expanse that seemed to run off for miles into the distance as the land morphed into the Tower Mountains.

But it also wore a massive gash in its sandstone makeup, a rift that stretched so far in both directions that it was impossible to determine where it may have ended. The canyon was at least fifty yards across, and far deeper. When Alamor looked down over the edge, he only saw a drop that led to sheer darkness along the rock walls.

A lone bridge comprised of rope and worn timber appeared to be the only way across, but it was narrow, and could likely fit no more than one person in a line.

Still, with Baldaron’s army closing in on them, they were left with no choice but to chance it.

Raissa was allowed to go first, the Bachus following directly behind her. Dayneth, Ausmus, and Elisstriss went next, the younger of the Highfeather’s daughters clearly pushing herself as much as her remaining energy granted so that she did not slow their advance over the bridge.

Alamor was about to go next, but just before he stepped onto the bridge, the first of Baldaron’s soldiers ascended onto the flat plane of the ridge and charged toward them. The Wraithlings had caught up to their party quicker than Alamor or any of them anticipated. Now, not only was there the threat of being overwhelmed by Baldaron’s troops, but there was also the danger of the armored soldiers cutting down the bridge before they all crossed it. Or, while some of them still stood on it.

Rawner was seemingly ready to avoid that at any cost. “Everyone keep going,” he said, his huge fists wrapping tightly about his poleax while his expression hardened. “And don’t stop until you get to the other side!”

The big man stormed ahead to meet the Wraithlings. The moment that he came to them, he swung his mighty weapon and threw several of them aside. Those that avoided his attack launched their own offensives, but Rawner was fast to react and fended off their blows before once again hurling more of them away. His brave charge managed to halt their advance, and in doing so, he allowed his companions to continue crossing the bridge unmolested.

Alamor nearly ran to join Rawner in holding off Baldaron’s troops, but Tiroku and Joth stopped him and forced him onto the bridge.

“Listen to him!” Joth hollered. “We have to make sure that you get out of here safely!”

Part of Alamor wanted to argue, and even push past Joth and Tiroku to run to his friend’s aid, but once he was upon the bridge, he realized that he had to keep moving forward. He began to hurry across the wooden pass, silently praying that Rawner would be able to turn and follow them soon enough.

Yet, any time Alamor glanced over his shoulder, he saw that Rawner still faced Baldaron’s oncoming soldiers and fended them off. Even when Alamor was halfway over the bridge, Rawner remained behind, battling furiously to hold back the wave of Wraithlings.

Alamor eventually reached the other side of the canyon, but he did not run on as Raissa and the others ahead of him did. He stepped out of the way, and as all of the others behind him cleared the bridge and pressed forward toward the Tower Mountains, he set his terrified gaze onto his friend in the distance. Alamor’s eyes hardly blinked as he watched more and more Wraithlings throw themselves at Rawner, slowly pushing the man back until he was just inches from the bridge.

“Rawner, hurry up and run!” Alamor cried in desperation.

Each and every Wraithling suddenly came to a halt at the same exact moment. They backed away from Rawner and lowered their weapons with mechanical movement, ceasing their offensive as if they had been commanded to do so. Their numbers parted, the great horde splitting apart and forming a path between themselves.

Baldaron emerged amid the many armored soldiers. The huge man calmly strode over the path that his lifeless minions granted him. He stopped once he was in front of their numbers. Rawner was the only thing standing between him and the bridge.

He set his gaze upon the Captain of Geldiar. A sickening measure of cruel delight swirled within his sunken eyes, like a predator studying its prey before striking. Aside from when the desert’s howling wind blew aside his jet locks and his cape, he did not move, nor did Rawner. The two men simply stood in silence, staring at one another; a sinister grin reaching over Baldaron’s face, while a fiery glare exuded from Rawner’s eyes.

A minute passed before one of them finally stirred. Without any kind of warning, Rawner turned and swung his poleax. In one clean cut, he seared through the rope railings that clung to the supports on that side of the canyon, and the bridge fell away.

Time slowed for Alamor as he watched it sink into the abyss. The bridge swung to his side of the canyon and slammed into the rock wall, most of the timber planks shattering on impact and then plummeting into darkness.

Rawner glanced back at Alamor, showing him the same jolly grin that Rawner had shown him so many times over the years. The man then turned back to Baldaron. He fastened his hands about his poleax and planted his feet into the stone floor, readying himself for battle.

Baldaron’s voice rang out over the ridge. “What lies behind you presents a far more pleasant death than what stands before you. But if you are intent to challenge me, then I have no issue with demonstrating to your friends what fate holds for them by defying my conquest.”

Baldaron threw his arm out to his side, and a great weapon materialized within his grip. It was a massive broadsword, at least four feet long from the tip of the blade down to the pommel. The black blade looked like it was forged out of onyx, and an eerie, blood-red aura shone around its edges.

Rawner showed no fear of the weapon, or the man who wielded it. He charged and loosed the first strike, throwing his poleax in a deadly swing toward Baldaron’s head.

Baldaron lifted his sword and blocked the attack with ease. Rawner pulled his poleax back and struck again, only to be parried once more. The Captain of Geldiar continued to assail his foe with looping slashes, but Baldaron intercepted each one without effort.

Alamor could not fathom Baldaron’s physical prowess. For being such a huge man, who wielded a gigantic weapon, no less, Baldaron moved with deftness that rivaled the Aesur soldiers. His pliant arm twisted and curled with blinding speed to deflect each of Rawner’s attacks, always able to move in place just before Rawner’s poleax met his black armor. At the same time, his strength was frightening. He never flinched any time he blocked one of Rawner’s strikes. Any other living being would have been staggered, if not hurled backward from the force of the blows.

Baldaron eventually seemed to grow tired of toying with his opponent, and lashed out with a slash that Alamor’s eyes barely followed. The blade flew past Rawner’s defenses and scored through his chest plate, nearly bringing the Captain of Geldiar to his knees.

As Rawner doubled over and clutched his wounded sternum, Baldaron merely stood by and watched. A wicked smile formed within his black beard, as if he stopped only to admire his blow.

Rawner soon found his strength again and renewed his offensive. He seemed to ignore whatever damage that Baldaron’s sword had wrought over him, swinging his poleax just as vigorously as he had before.

Still, he could not overcome Baldaron’s deftness and speed. Baldaron blocked each slash that Rawner hurled, letting the Captain of Geldiar wear himself out until he slowed for just a fleeting moment. When that moment came, Baldaron struck again, his sword darting forward and into Rawner’s left arm.

Rawner’s agonized holler echoed across the ridge. His arm fell limp against his side, lamed by pain. He seemed helpless as Baldaron drew back and prepared a fatal slash, but just before the broadsword came his way, Rawner somehow lifted his poleax with his right arm alone and deflected the attack.

There was a look of surprise even in Baldaron’s eyes as Rawner commenced a maddened assault. Rawner swung his enormous weapon without any show of concern for his injuries, and he did so with even greater speed and ferocity than he had before—so great, that he eventually overcame Baldaron’s seemingly impenetrable defenses. With one swift cut, Rawner’s poleax slipped by Baldaron’s broadsword, and the tip of the poleax’s blade raked over Baldaron’s cheek.

The wicked man uttered a loud grunt as he staggered back. He lifted one of his huge hands to the cheek that had been struck. Almost immediately, droplets of blood crawled out between his fingers. When he removed his hand, he revealed a gash that ran from his cheekbone down to his jaw.

“Are you watching this, Alamor!?” Rawner cried out, his voice booming over the ridge. “He’s not like one of his Wraithlings! He feels pain just like you and I do! He’s made of flesh and blood like any man!” Rawner turned and looked out across the canyon. His blazing eyes reached over the rift and straight into Alamor’s. “If I can do this to him, if I’m able to hurt him—then you can defeat him!!”

Behind Rawner, Baldaron grinned. When the Captain of Geldiar turned to face him again, Baldaron flew ahead. The wicked man struck with a slash that nearly knocked Rawner off his feet, and he began to unleash a series of thunderous strokes that Rawner struggled to fend off. Baldaron attacked with speed and power that far surpassed his previous efforts. It was as if he had been holding back his true ability all along.

Rawner withstood the assault for as long as his exhausted, wounded body would allow, but each slash that Baldaron threw was quicker and mightier than the last, and the Captain of Geldiar waned under the duress of Baldaron’s fury.

Baldaron’s blade eventually found Rawner’s right arm, tearing through his taupe armor and slicing through the flesh below. Rawner’s grip about his poleax was lost as pain visibly overtook him, and with another cut, Baldaron disarmed him.

With a third blow, Baldaron slammed his sword into Rawner’s stomach.

Even from far across the canyon, Alamor could see the tip of the blade as it protruded from Rawner’s back. Alamor’s aghast eyes broadened, and his mouth fell slack, but no sound was able to climb from his throat.

Baldaron pulled his blade from Rawner’s stomach, and the Captain of Geldiar staggered backward. His jaw hung open and his eyes went wide as life slowly evaporated from his features.

Just before Rawner’s feet could go over the edge of the canyon, Baldaron came to him and clasped an enormous hand about his throat.

A great, vile magic began to overtake the air around the ridge. Alamor soon felt it stretch over the canyon and envelop him, chilling his body and spirit with its malevolent touch. It was somewhat familiar to him, similar to when he felt the presence of the countless souls that Baldaron had absorbed for his own power. But this new presence, this new magic, carried a more merciless nature with it, as cruel as the man who wielded it.

Scourge.

Alamor’s fears were proven true when he saw a host of ethereal lights slowly crawl from Rawner’s body and into Baldaron’s. They looked like tiny droplets, shining brilliantly with what Alamor knew was the essence of Rawner’s very life force and soul. A few moments later, they were joined by what looked like a ghostly outline of Rawner’s body. The bluish-white shade was no different from his physical form, even featuring the same shape of his armor. But most harrowing of all was that its face was identical to his, including the expression of shock and agony on Rawner’s countenance as his soul was siphoned.

When the ghostly image of Rawner finally dissipated, Baldaron released him. Rawner’s body fell into the canyon, his eyes lifeless, and his face still frozen in that same expression of horror.

Alamor wailed as he watched his friend’s body plummet into the abyss. Joth and Tiroku took hold of Alamor and began to drag him away, but he paid no attention to them. He hardly felt their touch as they pulled him along. He only looked back at the canyon while they continued their retreat, his screams filling the air and reaching far into the rift as Rawner’s body fell.

“Rawner!”

25

Even while the desert heat slowed their progress, Tauroc and the Rockclaw Baroso made a hurried march out of the Arid Reaches after Baldaron let them go free. They conserved their energy during the hot mornings and afternoons, moving at a determined, but measured pace while the sun blazed high overhead and cast its searing rays onto the sands below.

They rarely slept, mostly only during the hours of the daytime when the desert’s heat became too unbearable to wade through. Once twilight descended over the land, they resumed their march and moved swiftly through the night, only slowing their advance when the new morning came and returned the blistering heat back to the air.

It was an exhausting trek that would have ended most beings, but the Baroso endured it without reconsideration. If any of Tordale’s inhabitants could survive such a trying task, it was their kind, and not just merely Baroso, but the mighty Rockclaw Tribe. Where fatigue and pain were struggles for most creatures, they were only nuisances for Tauroc and his tribe. To the Rockclaw Baroso, the taxing march was well worth it if it brought them back to their ridges sooner, and sleep could always be recollected when they were safely with the rest of their tribe.

After three days, their trek brought them to the Tower Mountains, where the more hospitable air finally allowed the Baroso to move at the pace they could only long for in the desert. With the kingdom’s greatest peaks rising alongside them, they marched with greater urgency than ever before, knowing that they neared their village, and a return to normalcy after spending weeks under the command of the warlord who sought to conquer Tordale.

Baldaron may have granted them freedom, but his dark presence remained in the form of the Strife Wings and the battalion of Wraithlings that followed closely behind the Baroso. This, too, compelled Tauroc and his warriors forward; the sight of Baldaron’s minions made the Baroso feel as if they were still enslaved by the man’s will. A true sense of freedom could not even come to them in their dreams, for although they slept deeper and more often while they were within the mountains, the Strife Wings and Wraithlings did not. As the Baroso slumbered, Baldaron’s minions simply watched.

On the third day through the Tower Mountains, a dreary afternoon where the sky was a grey veil over the land, they finally approached their beloved home, Rockclaw Rise. Tauroc spotted the ridges and their village when it was all hardly a half a mile away. Even from that distance, he could see that their home still wore some of the devastation that Baldaron brought with his attack. Only a handful of the tall, thick fir frees that once dotted the ridges stood coated by green needles; the rest were charred, naked pillars that stood as reminders of the fires that nearly engulfed the village. Tauroc saw no other foliage, not even the thin carpets of grass that once brought color to the ridges’ rocky floor. In their place was either scorched earth, or blankets of dark soil that the Baroso put down to bury the ashen ground and cultivate the terrain.

It seemed that only half of their huts had been rebuilt, and most were clearly hurried attempts that were constructed out of necessity by the Baroso who remained behind. They were not erected with the same level of detail or care as they were originally, and most were noticeably smaller than what the Baroso were accustomed to. The rest of their huts lay in shambles over the ridges, still not touched by the she-bears, cubs, and elders who attempted to rebuild their home.

Even before Tauroc and his warriors set foot onto the ridges, many of the Baroso who they left behind weeks ago gathered to witness their return. It appeared that once Tauroc and his warriors were spotted, word spread throughout the tribe. Every she-bear, cub, and elder Baroso turned away from whatever they were doing to run and greet their brave fighters who had been forced to leave Rockclaw Rise many weeks ago.

Their joy lifted Tauroc’s spirits, but only briefly. As soon as he and his warriors neared the ridges, the Baroso who gathered to welcome them back took greater notice of the Strife Wings and scores of Wraithlings. At once, the relief and anticipation in their features fell into looks of fear.

Destrala, too, seemed to discern their terror. “This is what you wished to return to with such haste, Tauroc?” she mocked, her white eyes scanning the scarred ridges. “It has been weeks since Lord Baldaron tread here, and yet your home still lies in ruins, and your kind is still petrified at the sight of his forces. You would have been better off migrating elsewhere, or perhaps remaining among Lord Baldaron’s army.”

Tauroc’s sneer reached over his whole snout as he turned back and faced the great Strife Wing. “Any place in this kingdom is better than at your master’s side.”

Destrala’s grin had no purpose other than to taunt Tauroc. “Are you sure of that? If you had chosen to stay in service to Lord Baldaron, he likely would have offered you and your tribe a sizable piece of territory to settle upon, something far more appealing than these ridges.”

“We are more than content here,” Tauroc replied, defiantly. “We will continue to rebuild what your master destroyed, and eventually he will be nothing more than a memory to us.”

“Oh, he will never fade from your minds altogether, I promise you that,” Destrala said. “Maybe you will never look upon his face, again, but you will feel Lord Baldaron’s presence for the rest of your days while he rules over this land. In little time, should you ever step foot even a few miles beyond these ridges, you will witness some sort of reminder that this entire kingdom is within his grasp, and that you are merely confined to a small portion where he allows you to know any semblance of peace.”

“That is more than enough for us to be happy,” Tauroc said.

“Just remember this, Tauroc—you will only know ‘happiness’ as long as you heed Lord Baldaron’s words. He has entrusted me to remind you of his final warning, that should you ever meddle in his conquest over Tordale, you and your tribe will endure the same kind of destruction that he brings everywhere else he walks. You will only continue to exist if you are a simple memory to him.”

“That is what we will all be,” Tauroc said. “And since that has been decided again, here in our territory, this brings an end to the pact we made with your master.”

Destrala nodded. “You are correct about that. Your alliance with Lord Baldaron is finished.”

“Then do not linger. Leave our ridges and my tribe in peace.”

Destrala chuckled devilishly. “Don’t worry, Tauroc, we have no intention of taking another step forward. Lord Baldaron entrusted us only with the task of accompanying you back here. But still, I would think twice about speaking so boldly to us, for to defy us is the same as defying Lord Baldaron, himself. If I truly wished, I could see to it that my sisters and these soldiers wipe out what remains of your home and your tribe.” Destrala lifted her eyes and swept them across the Baroso that gathered before her. Her lips fell and revealed her cruel fangs. “It is already a tempting thought. A big, strong Baroso would fill our stomachs for weeks.”

Tauroc’s expression flared, and although the temptation to lash out at Destrala and make her pay for threatening his tribe screamed in his mind, he did not allow his rage to overtake him. He simply stood in silence, his glare riveted on the Strife Wings as he waited for them to depart.

When they did, they offered no further words. Destrala turned away from the ridges and lifted herself into the air, her sisters following closely behind her. A moment later, the many Wraithlings spun around and commenced their march back the way they came.

It was a few minutes before Baldaron’s minions were out of sight, and it was only then that the Rockclaw Tribe finally felt free of any threat. As the tension that once filled the air around them began to dissipate, the Baroso slowly came together, the warriors reuniting with their friends and family for the first time since being pulled away onto Baldaron’s trail of destruction across Tordale. The she-bears and cubs hurried to see their mates and fathers, cautious joy returning to their faces.

But as Tauroc looked about the reunion, there was one among his tribe that he could find. “Where is my son?” he eventually asked aloud.

His question was initially met with silence. His fellow Baroso immediately quieted their conversations among one another, telling Tauroc that they heard him, yet none answered. Most could not look him in the eye.

Tauroc began to grow nervous from their silence before one of the elders stepped forward. He was a squat Baroso named Kamal, who Tauroc had known as one of his closest friends for many seasons. He stood at least a head beneath most of the warriors, although it was partially due to the hunch in his shoulders that came in his old age. His pelt was milky brown in color, except for the fur near his snout, which was ashy grey, and grew long like a beard. To assist his old legs, he walked with a thick cane carved out of hawthorn wood.

“Your son is over this way, Tauroc,” Kamal answered, and began to make his way through the crowd. “Let me show you to him.”

Tauroc followed behind the elder, still confused by the other Barosos’ reluctance to answer him. Once he and the elder made their way beyond the rest of the tribe and further over their ridges, he spoke up again. “Is my son all right, Kamal? He’s not hurt, is he?”

“Not in the least,” Kamal answered, never looking back at Tauroc as he led him through Rockclaw Rise.

“Did he do something dishonorable?”

“Not that I would consider. In fact, I would say that no one in our tribe has worked harder to help us recover from the attack than he has. He’s stood guard at night, tended to the wounded, gone out into the mountains to forage resources, and he spends countless hours rebuilding the destroyed huts. You would be very proud of how strong he’s been.”

“Then why were you the only one who could answer me when I asked about him?”

Kamal’s response did not come so quickly this time. “Because while you would be very proud of Sarrek, he has begun to express different feelings about you.”

Tauroc was stunned by the elder’s response. It took him several moments before he could find his words again. “What do you mean by that?”

A quiet sigh escaped Kamal’s greying snout. The subject seemed to trouble him, as well. “It would appear that he disagrees with your choice to assist Baldaron in exchange for our tribe’s protection, and he has become very vocal about it in recent days. He seems to believe that what you chose was cowardly, and that the more honorable course of action would have been to defy Baldaron, even if it meant our tribe’s destruction.”

“He never said any of this to me before I left.”

“Perhaps he felt it disrespectful to challenge your decision in your presence. You are not merely a father to him, but the Chieftain of our tribe.”

“I would have hoped that my own son would be strong enough not to fear me when he disputes my decisions.”

Kamal shrugged. “I would not be so quick to question his courage. It’s impossible for either of us to say what has compelled him without hearing an explanation from his own mouth. However, I have no such right to hear that. This is a discussion meant for the two of you.”

They had walked so far now that they could no longer hear the Baroso further behind them. Kamal stopped when he brought Tauroc to the heart of Rockclaw Rise, where the Long Den stood. It was a great log house where the Baroso gathered for feasts and meetings when the weather outside was unaccommodating. The Long Den was a huge structure, running for more than fifty yards across the ridges and sitting wide enough to fit three of the Baroso’s stone huts in a row. Its walls were built out of the thickest fir trunks that the Rockclaw Tribe could find within the Tower Mountains, and its arched roof laid out with pliant aspen timber.

The Long Den had been partially damaged during Baldaron’s attack several weeks ago. Nearly half of it was set ablaze by the fires that stormed over the ridges, but the Baroso who remained behind had all but completely repaired it by now. Whatever restoration that could still be done seemed to be largely superficial.

Still, even as Tauroc and Kamal approached, Sarrek continued to scrape away at one of the Long Den’s sides and smooth its edges. It was as if he did so in a stubborn attempt to avoid acknowledging Tauroc or Kamal.

A Baroso of just fifteen seasons, Sarrek was not yet the size of one of the fearsome Rockclaw warriors, but he was one of the largest and fittest cubs in the tribe. He was already as tall as a human adult, and his muscles were quickly forming into the kind of bulk that would one day make him as big as his father—maybe bigger, Tauroc believed.

It was not the only way that he resembled his father. Sarrek had Tauroc’s same boulder-like head, thick snout, and dark eyes. He even wore iron wrist guards and faulds just as his father did. The one noticeable difference between the two was in their fur. While Tauroc’s pelt was beige, like wheat ready to be harvested, Sarrek’s fur was smoky grey, just like his late mother’s.

He seemed to be fitter and stronger from when Tauroc last saw him many weeks ago, and for that, the Rockclaw Chieftain was thankful. He watched his son work, even though Sarrek refused to look at him when they stood no more than twenty yards apart.

Kamal eventually turned and began to walk off in the direction they came, leaving the father and son to themselves. “I trust that you two will resolve this calmly,” the elder said as he left, and soon he was well on his way back to the rest of their tribe.

His departure did not immediately stir any conversation between Tauroc and Sarrek. As Sarrek continued to scrape away at one of the sturdy trunks that composed the Long Den, Tauroc glanced about their nearby surroundings. There were no other Baroso anywhere close by. In fact, if he did not look out to the far edge of Rockclaw Rise, where his returning warriors were still being greeted, he would have thought that the ridges were abandoned.

Tauroc noticed several other tools—hammers, saws, chisels—lying about on the ground near the Long Den. It seemed as though they had been dropped in a hurry by whoever last used them.

Sarrek surely must have known when Tauroc and his warriors arrived, but the young Baroso refused to join in welcoming them home.

“I’m not angry with you, Sarrek, if that is your concern,” Tauroc began. “But I’m somewhat disappointed that you would hide your thoughts from me. Why didn’t you say anything before I left that you felt I should have acted differently?”

“You wouldn’t have listened to me,” Sarrek answered in a coarse tone.

“That is not true,” Tauroc argued. “You are my son, and I value anything you might say.”

Sarrek finally faced his father. The young Baroso’s eyes were filled with bitterness. “Just like when you forced me to hide with the she-bears, elders, and other cubs when we were attacked? Even though I pleaded to fight by your side and defend our home?”

Tauroc recalled that night when Baldaron and his forces attacked Rockclaw Rise. Sarrek was relentless in his demand to join the adult Baroso in battle, adamant to stand against the strange enemies that suddenly swept over their home. Tauroc had been equally adamant that his son would stay away from the chaos and defend those Baroso who were not warriors.

“I never ordered you to hide,” Tauroc said, barely holding back a growl in his voice. “I ordered you to stay with the she-bears, the elders, and the other cubs so that you could protect them. They could not be left alone when we were being overwhelmed by such a powerful enemy. I wanted you to be with them because I trusted that you could keep them safe.”

“You say that as if we are any other creatures of this land,” Sarrek replied. “Any Baroso, old or young, male or she-bear, can defend themselves. Many of them wanted to join the battle that night, and they only didn’t because warriors like yourself ordered them to stay away. They respect and fear you too much to question your words.”

“We likely saved our tribe from complete destruction by that choice,” Tauroc said.

“You can’t say that for certain,” Sarrek retorted. “Our tribe’s full might wasn’t there to challenge those marauders. With my help, with the rest of the tribe’s help, it might have been enough to fend them off.”

“You saw how powerful our enemy was; even if all of you had joined the fight, it would not have stopped them,” Tauroc said. “All that we would have accomplished is that more Baroso would have died, maybe even you. I could never put you in a place so close to death.”

A vague sneer appeared over Sarrek’s snout. “At least you would have been letting us act like Baroso, and not cowards.”

“Is that what all of your anger is about?” Tauroc asked. “That I would not let you fight in a battle that we could not win?”

Sarrek shook his head. His eyes narrowed before he answered. “No, it is that you let a likely outcome of a battle decide whether you let our tribe fight or not.”

“So, you would rather I lead our tribe to death for the sake of fighting? All so that history would say that we challenged those stronger than us?”

“I would rather do that than ever submit to someone’s will, just like mother always believed.”

Tauroc felt a sharp pang in his heart at the mention of his beloved mate, Sheba. She had perished several seasons ago on a day when she was foraging in the mountains with Sarrek and a few other cubs and she-bears. That day, one of the mountains’ great predators attacked their group. Sheba fearlessly threw herself at the monster and fended it off while the others escaped. With her fury and her unbreakable desire to protect her cub, she kept the beast from harming the other Baroso, but she could not save herself. She and the creature eventually tumbled off the edge of a steep cliff as they fought, and the fall claimed both of their lives.

Tauroc swallowed back his sorrow before he spoke again. His voice was low and somber. “You’re right. Your mother would probably have never done what I’ve chosen. She was the bravest and strongest Baroso I ever knew. But I believe that she would understand why I’ve come to these decisions. If it had been me who died fighting that monster, she would do whatever it took to keep you alive, as well.”

“I cannot agree with that. For all of my life, I’ve looked at her sacrifice as a testament to her belief that we Baroso fight to defend one another, and most importantly, our way of life, even with death screaming in our faces. That’s who we are, father—we are fearless no matter the danger, no matter the challenge.”

“Your mother made that sacrifice to protect you and the other cubs. She would not have given her life out of a sense of pride as a Baroso, and I cannot do the same if it means endangering the lives our entire tribe. I am Chieftain, Sarrek. I am responsible for all of the Rockclaw Tribe.”

Tauroc was not surprised, but still disappointed to see that his words had little effect on his son. Sarrek’s eyes fell away from his father as he shook his head. The young Baroso dropped the scraper he had been using before. “I’m sorry, father, but I see no purpose in throwing away our honor so that we can live in uncertainty the rest of our lives.”

Sarrek did not allow his father another response. The young Baroso turned and walked off in another direction where the ridges were empty, leaving Tauroc to stand in silence.

It was only broken a few moments later when Tauroc’s nostrils released a long, disconcerted breath. This was not the return that he had so greatly anticipated for many weeks, nor the reunion with his son that he desperately longed for. He had expected to return home and quickly put the shadow of Baldaron’s coming behind him. He had expected his mind to finally be at ease.

There was obviously much healing left to be done, Tauroc realized. It would require time for the tension between him and Sarrek to settle. Much like the rebuilding of what was destroyed throughout Rockclaw Rise, the dispute with his son would eventually resolve, but it would not happen overnight. This would go on, and Tauroc knew that he had to stay the course and believe that all would one day turn out well.

That was what he had told himself during those many weeks at Baldaron’s command, after all.

Tauroc looked up into the sky. Somewhere beyond the clouds, he knew that he was being watched.

I’ll keep our son and our tribe safe, Sheba. I promise.

26

The ground rose steadily beneath Raissa’s feet as she and the rest of her party hurried deeper into the Tower Mountains. The Arid Reaches’ flat, dusty floor was long behind them, taken over by the mountains’ rocky surface that seemed to climb just a little higher with every step. It had been a few hours since they left the Sandstone Mausoleum, but still they moved ahead with great haste. They did not feel safe, even when Baldaron’s army was trapped on the other side of the canyon that they had crossed. He would eventually find a path around it, and he would surely pursue them. They sought to create as much distance as possible from the wicked man while he and his troops stood idle, so they chose to run on into the mountains for as long as the day would last.

It was only when twilight began to fall over the land that they decided that they needed to stop for the night. The sun sank quickly into the depths of the horizon, bringing a murky sky that draped the mountain passes in shadow. Tiroku, and even the Aesur, did not see it safe to journey onward over the steep crags and narrow pathways during the night, especially with the party worn down from their long and strenuous trek. With darkness hiding the dangers around them, it would be easy to commit a misstep and tumble to a perilous fall. Just the same, the coming night would surely awaken many of the mountains’ most fearsome predators, and no one in their group had the energy to combat one of those.

They spotted a lonely hill in the distance that was ringed by old hawthorn trees and boulders atop its crown. They deemed it to be a suitable place for them to make their camp for the night. As most of their party hurried in the direction of the hill, though, Raissa stopped to reclaim her breath. She did not want to slow the rest of her companions down, so she did not alert them while they moved on. Only Tiroku noticed her.

“Your Highness, we only have a little further to go,” he said. “Please, let’s hurry ahead, and then you can rest for as long as you need.”

In between deep breaths, Raissa nodded. She straightened, and although she tried to hold back her fatigue, she apparently did not disguise it very well.

“Are you all right, your Highness?” Tiroku asked.

Raissa did not answer him for a few moments. When she finally did, she spoke in a weak, defeated whisper. “No, Tiroku, I’m not…”

Tiroku seemed to understand that she referred to something far more profound than her physical exhaustion—the shocking, and grisly secret of her father’s campaign in the Arid Reaches that Baldaron revealed to them. His features tightened as a strained silence fell between. He appeared reluctant to speak again.

Raissa eventually lifted her eyes to the Champion of Light. She offered him a desperate, pleading look. “Tiroku…how could any of this be? How could my father’s mission have brought so much death and destruction, when it was supposed to bring peace?”

The pained look in Tiroku’s face suggested that he did not have a confident answer for her. “I understand that the revelation must be incredibly difficult for you to bear, especially with how it came to you, but you must also realize that what Baldaron said was only his perspective on what actually happened all those years ago. He did not tell you every last detail of what occurred in the Arid Reaches, and why it occurred.”

“But it still happened, didn’t it?” Raissa replied.

Tiroku had no response. His eyes fell to the mountain floor, as if in concession to Raissa’s grim words.

“My whole life, I have always believed that everything my father worked for as King was to preserve the peace of this kingdom,” Raissa went on, “but if this is true, then in a sense, my father’s decisions eventually created this chaos that has swept over Tordale. His mission in the Arid Reaches is the reason why Baldaron and his armies threaten us.”

“You cannot think that way, your Highness,” Tiroku said, trying to be stern. “You are assuming things that you cannot be certain of. There is no telling if this threat or another would have emerged even if your father never ordered our armies into the Arid Reaches. You must not question his decisions when he was seeking a noble goal.”

Tiroku’s words could not pull Raissa from her swelling distress. “But so many innocent people were killed by our own!” she exclaimed. “You have not denied it; you have confirmed it!” She turned from Tiroku and stepped away, tears beginning to pool in her eyes. “My father always told my brother and I that the purpose of our family, the reason for our rule over Tordale was to ensure that peace and prosperity existed in all corners of the kingdom. From what it appears, he never brought that to the Arid Reaches; he brought more ruin than peace and prosperity! And he hid that secret from us, even into his own death!”

Raissa spun around and faced Tiroku again. Her body trembled as she struggled to find her words. “What if it is true that all of this has happened because of the slaughters done by our army years ago? What if the reason why Caldeya was overtaken, and so many people there were killed, is because of my family’s mistakes? What if the reason why Rawner is dead is because of us?”

“Do not speak so rashly, your Highness,” Tiroku said. “Rawner willingly and valiantly offered up his own life to protect us. He would tell you himself that it is not yours, your father’s, nor your family’s fault for his death.” The Champion of Light looked away from her and aimed his eyes at the rest of their party as they made for the hill in the near distance. “Alamor would also never want to hear you say that. He is more upset than anyone among us that Rawner is gone, but he must know that—”

Tiroku stopped mid-sentence. As he watched their fellow companions just ahead, Raissa noticed rising concern take over his eyes.

She, too, glanced at the others, and it was not long before she made the same startling discovery that Tiroku must have made.

Alamor was not among any of their companions who ran on ahead.

She and Tiroku spun about, eyes darting in all directions, searching frantically for some sign of Alamor. But no matter where they looked, he was nowhere to be seen.

* * * * *

In their hurry to retreat into the Tower Mountains, Raissa, Tiroku, and the others had not even noticed when Alamor separated from the group. He did so deliberately, quietly slipping away at one point while the others continued their escape through the mountain passes. He knew in the back of his mind that it was risky to wander off alone, and that his friends would worry for him when they realized that he was not among their numbers, but neither concern could keep him from the solitude he so desperately craved.

Alamor stopped when he came to a precipice. It overlooked a wide valley nestled between several peaks. The view was spectacular. Most of the valley was densely forested with pines. It looked like a carpet of malachite-green that rested comfortably at the bases of the mountains. The natural spires of pure rock rose imposingly in the distance, clouds of mist and fog gathering near their pinnacles as they reached high above the earth. The sky morphed into a ceiling of cobalt and indigo shades, while long, fading rays of light from the sinking sun stretched beyond the mountains and draped their frames in shadow.

Alamor hardly saw any of the wondrous scene. He stared blankly into the horizon, his eyes wide open, but seeing none of the beauty.

All that he continued to see was Rawner’s lifeless form as it fell into the canyon.

Why?

Why did Rawner have to die?

The questions repeated themselves in Alamor’s head as he tried to make sense of the harrowing event he witnessed earlier that day. He could not understand why fate continued to be so cruel to him. He had already lost his parents, he had already spent years haunted by his mistakes and failures in trying to become a Champion of Light, he had nearly lost his bond with Raissa.

Why did life itself seem so intent to torment him that it now tore away Rawner—a man who had been watching over him since he was just a child?

Amid those questions and many others, a pang of regret festered in Alamor’s mind. He questioned whether he should have hurried across that bridge when he did. Perhaps if he had ignored Joth’s orders and ran to join Rawner in combat, his lifelong friend would be walking alongside him through the mountains right now.

The mountains.

At that moment, it dawned on Alamor just how far he had come in his quest to fulfill the Legend of Light. After weeks of perilous journeying across the kingdom, he and his comrades were in possession of both Xogun’s and Ralu’s Radia. They had crossed into the last leg of their trek—a march throughout the Tower Mountains that would eventually take them to the mysterious realm known as Skyscape, where they would find the portal to Ralu and Xogun. In the corner of the Hallowed Plane where the legendary Sages rested, watching over all of Tordale, Ralu and Xogun would hopefully empower Alamor and Raissa to use the Radia as weapons against Baldaron’s Scourge.

They had accomplished something magnificent—something that was thought by many to be impossible. There was real hope for their quest to save Tordale from destruction.

But Alamor felt little joy from it. That hope only existed because Rawner had given up his life.

What else would this journey take from Alamor before it was over?

HERE ENDS BOOK TWO IN THE LEGEND OF LIGHT

THE STORY WILL CONCLUDE IN BOOK THREE,

RADIANT FATE

Radiant Fate

Book Three in

The Legend of Light

Set to release Summer 2019

Until then, read on for an exclusive excerpt

Radiant Fate

Alamor ran his hands over the violet feathers that were woven together to make the bulk of the sail. The plumage was so thick that it felt like he held a heavy fur coat. He knew that he had seen this remarkable item somewhere before.

“These are the same sails of Zephawk feathers like what I showed you in Geldiar when we were planning our mission,” Dayneth said, jogging Alamor’s memory from several weeks ago, before their journey even began. “We’ll use these to get up to Skyscape. As long as you hold on tight, one of these can take you all the way up the mountains until you reach my homeland.”

Alamor looked to where the wind currents came together and rose high above the earth. He could feel his insides practically sink at the thought of such a harrowing experience. “Have you seen these work, for yourself?” he asked, silently praying that Dayneth could personally attest to their functionality.

“I’ve never required their assistance, but it’s been recorded in my people’s history more than once of creatures from the surface world using them successfully. In fact, it’s said that Ralu and Xogun ascended to Skyscape using these.”

Alamor’s face had all but become a frozen grimace. “I was sort of hoping that you would have a more recent example than something from hundreds of years ago.”

Dayneth smiled. “Trust me, you’ll be fine. These sails may be light enough to fold up compactly, but they’re extremely strong because of the Zephawk feathers. They’ll be able to withstand even the Barosos’ weight without tearing. Although, one of these will likely only be able to carry a single Baroso.”

Alamor took another glance skyward. “I don’t think these things ripping is necessarily what I’m afraid of…”

Dayneth gave him an assuring clap on the back. “Just hold on tight and nothing bad will happen. I can’t deny that it’ll be a little scary, but I promise that my sister will make sure that the winds guide us there safely.”

At the mention of her, Alamor looked over to Elisstriss. While everyone else was talking to one another and readying their own sails, Elisstriss appeared to have shut out the world around her. She did not even look to any of their companions. Her eyes were firmly shut, her head bowed.

Alamor briefly dove into the recesses of his being, where his magic lay. He reached out beyond his corporeal form, probing the surrounding space with his innate energies. Almost immediately, he sensed—touched—Elisstriss’s rising magic. She stirred what rested within her, awakening the entirety of the Airtaming ability that she possessed. Whatever kind of spell she was preparing, it was surely going to be something tremendous.

“Has everyone got their wrists wrapped?”

Ausmus’s voice returned Alamor’s consciousness from his magical examination. The Aesur warrior moved throughout their gathering, inspecting everyone’s holds over the sails that they were provided. When no one spoke up in reply, he continued.

“Make sure you all still keep a firm hold on the tassels,” Ausmus explained. With Elisstriss in a state of deep meditation, it must have been left for him to give instructions to those in their group who were not Aesur. “It’s unlikely, but if by some misfortunate you find yourself separated from your sail, you absolutely cannot panic. Just try to stay as still as possible, and the winds will carry you on their own.” He paused to spare a glance at Elisstriss, while numerous looks were shared between the Baroso and Alamor’s other companions. “When Elisstriss finishes gathering her magic, she’s going to use her Airtaming to take control of the winds coming over us from the mountains. She’ll use them to guide us through the path that Wind’s Way normally takes. With command over those winds, she’ll make sure that we stay within the air current’s grip. That’s why you need to stay as calm as you possibly can while we make our way up to Skyscape. You’ll only get there safely if you stay within the winds that Elisstriss controls. If you escape them, there’s no telling where across this land the winds will end up hurling you to. It’s going to be a rather…frightening experience for many of you, I’m sure. I might suggest you close your eyes for it. Elisstriss should be commencing her spell soon, and she won’t be able to give us a warning before she summons it.”

Hinton and Pauma—who shared one of the sails just as Alamor and Raissa did—immediately took Ausmus’s advice and closed their eyes. A sweeping glance throughout the rest of their party showed Alamor that the Bachus were not the only ones who were nervous. Most of the Baroso seemed unsure of their impending journey to the clouds, or perhaps in the strength of the sails. Each Baroso had a sail to themselves, surely because the beastly warriors were too heavy for any pair to share just one.

“Are you ready for this?” Raissa’s whisper suddenly came to Alamor.

He did not need to look at her to know that a grin crossed her face.

“No…” Alamor eventually groaned.

The moment that his response left his lips, Alamor felt a wave of magic crash over him. It spilled across the gorge, capturing the winds that poured in from the mountains.

The next moment, Alamor felt the winds surge beneath his feet. They caught the sails that he and the others held, and the natural plumage that lay over the Aesurs’ limbs. With Elisstriss commanding them, the mighty gales threw Alamor and his companions to the sky.

The ground dropped away from Alamor’s feet as the winds took hold of his body. He could do nothing but watch as the gorge almost instantaneously shrank beneath his boots. His stomach spun, a feeling somewhere in between thrill and terror shooting through his veins. He started to scream, but his breath was quickly ripped away and his mouth went dry.

He could not tell if his friends ascended with the same silence; any cry that they might have loosed was muted by the air streams’ roar as they raced toward the heavens.

It was a sensation unlike any other. Although the air over Tordale was vaster than the mind could measure, Alamor felt trapped, frozen in place where he held onto the sail with Raissa. He did not believe that he could move his limbs even if he wanted to. The winds had assumed dominance over his body, leaving him at the mercy of the air current that Elisstriss controlled with her Airtaming.

The only freedom that Alamor seemed to still possess over his physical form was to turn his head and let his eyes behold the spectacular sights surrounding him.

The land stretched far and wide in any direction he looked, granting him a view that he would not find even at the top of the tallest spire built by man. The entirety of the Tower Mountains stretched out beneath him, and soon all of Tordale’s other regions took their place in the vast world below. The Plains of Oston began to run along the continent to the south, while the dense woodland of Sleekleaf Forest sprang up in the east. Where Tordale’s reach concluded, the oceans took its place, water racing on as far as Alamor could see. It was as if every corner of the world was eager to show itself.

Alamor’s terror slowly faded, and undeniable euphoria began to set in.

He looked about inside the air stream to see how the rest of his companions reacted to this unbelievable experience. Both Hinton and Pauma did not seem fond of it. The Bachus forced their eyes shut, and their paws were clasped so tightly onto the sails’ tassels that their nails might tear right through the threading. Most of the Baroso seemed petrified by the phenomenon they found themselves in. Only Sarrek appeared to find any thrill in the journey, his eyes alight with wonder as he stared up into the heavens.

It was no surprise to Alamor that every last Aesur looked right in place, each of them basking in the grip of Wind’s Way. There was no trace of fear over their faces. They proudly held their limbs outstretched and let the gales catch their snowy-white plumage. They looked as though they were soaring with the same grace as the hunting birds who roamed the skies over the Plains of Oston.

Dayneth seemed most enraptured by their ascent. There was jubilation in her eyes to feel the winds’ embrace. For so many years, she must have been unsure if she would ever step within them again. There was evident anticipation over her features, as well—anticipation at returning to the realm she once called home.

A veil of fog rapidly thickened before Alamor’s eyes, obscuring the view of his companions. For the first time since being thrown from the Tower Mountains’ floor, he felt more than just the rushing wind over his skin. A sharp chill suffused the air, like the icy breath of a winter day. He looked up and saw that Wind’s Way carried him and the others into a great sea of clouds, where every portion of the distant sky was blanketed beneath fog, mist, vapor, and ice.

With each moment that they soared higher, the clouds expanded, and the air grew colder.

The world that Alamor knew only seemed to trail further and further behind him.

Jeffrey Pawlak was born and raised in Buffalo, New York, which he still proudly calls home. The three books in The Legend of Light trilogy are his debut novels, but he’s been writing fiction since he was just seven years old. He has a degree in Journalism from Buffalo State College, and he is a regular contributor to the pop culture website The Geekiverse, where he provides coverage for all manner of movies, television shows, video games, literature, and comics. He also spent more than eight years covering professional and international hockey, having been a credentialed reporter for the NHL’s Buffalo Sabres, the AHL’s Rochester Americans, and USA Hockey.

To learn more about the world of Tordale, follow The Legend of Light’s official Facebook page, where you can get updates on the books, see original artwork, read excerpts, and get all other sorts of behind the scenes details on the series.

And to learn more about Jeffrey, pay a visit to his website at JeffreyPawlak.com. You can also follow him on Twitter @JeffreyPavs, Instagram – Jeff Pawlak, or email him – JeffreyAPawlak@gmail.com