Don’t be in such a hurry to pass judgement on another.

You may think you know a little of their history, but that’s not what makes a person. Learning from their mistakes, breaking their prisons, refusing to give up and blazing new trails…thatís what makes a person.

That “little history” should soften your heart, evoke your compassion and remind you of a single, inescapable fact:

You have a history too.

The first two days of the journey weren’t as bad as Wendell thought they would be. He’d worked himself into a near mental frenzy, thinking they’d emerge from the valley and into the waiting clutches of the enemy. Running for days on end and barely escaping with their lives from a blood-thirsty horde laying in wait. Nothing had been further from the truth. The forest was quiet, paths empty—though there were ample signs of a large group moving north. Deep tracks, animal droppings and trampled foliage marked the way.

Dax was particular about avoiding any paths normally traveled by merchants. “If it’s wide enough for a wagon, we ain’t usin’ it,” Dax said…and he meant it. He even ignored the wizards complaints, though Wendell noticed Dax did slow their pace enough to accommodate the old man’s fatigue. This left hunting trails and blazing new paths of their own. He and Alhannah took turns scouting ahead while Chuck walked with Wendell.

The brilliant colors of fall had already washed over the forest. Leaves were falling. The cool breeze during the day turned bitter cold at night, cutting through the trees like daggers of ice. The miserable experience was only exacerbated by Dax’s refusal to make anything but the smallest of fires. The magic properties of Wendell’s mägoweave kept him comfortable, much to the annoyance of Dax and Alhannah—who huddled together to keep from freezing.

Chuck, however, was oblivious to the weather altogether—wrapped up in his winter hat, boots, gloves and parka. While his smaller companions slept near the fire, the wizard lay sprawled across the grass, fast asleep—his immense beard wrapped around his face once, then folded under his head as a pillow. His snoring was startling at first, but turned out to be a mixed blessing. It made it difficult to sleep…but it also kept the wild animals from wandering into camp.

On the upside, the wizard seemed to have an endless supply of food. He assured Wendell it had to be rationed, but at every mealtime Chuck pulled out large portions of bread and butter, honey, dried meats, apples, pears and other fresh fruits from his side pouch.

“How do you do that?” Wendell finally asked on the third night.

Chuck stopped chewing, the juice of an orange dripping down his beard. He swallowed roughly, then wiped his lips across the sleeve of his robe. “Do what?”

“Store so much stuff in such a small bag? You did the same thing at the book store.” Wendell pulled out his money pouch and jiggled it in his hand. “This does it too. I’ve already taken out more than it should hold, but every time I look in it—it’s still full. There might be an endless supply!”

The wizard shrugged, “I wouldn’t know about that.”

“Come to think of it,” added Alhannah, “you do the same thing with your hat and robes, Uncle Chuck.”

“What is this, analyze the food-bearer night?”

“It’s just a question,” chimed Dax, who was working on his twentieth egg, “so tell ‘em.”

“Oooo!” Chuck retorted, eyes wide, “Captain grumpy wants to play does he? Well then, play we shall! Give ’n Take, that’s the game. The boy can ask a question for a question. If you refuse to answer, you’re out.”

Alhannah sat upright, “I’m in.”

“Me too,” said Wendell.

Chuck stared at the troll, the grin under his mustache unmistakable. “Grumpy?”

Dax spat over his shoulder, “Fine.”

“Fine is not ‘yes’. Yes is…”

“YES! ….for crying out loud—just play the game, will ya?”

The wizard wiggled his eyebrows at Wendell and smirked. Rubbing his hands together, he reached inside a sleeve and pulled out a small lantern. The candle was already lit. Placing it on the rock between himself and Wendell, he gestured to it. “It’s called a repository spell. Makes something bigger on the inside than on the outside. Works great for bags, barrels, hats, just about anything really, even a 1963 police box. However—I added a methodize twist to it. When I reach in, I think what I want and if it’s in there, it’ll be the first thing I feel.”

Wendell grinned, “Wow.”

Chuck grinned, “Yes, very clever. Alright, my turn.” He leaned back and folded his arms, “Tell me about your family back home.”

The smile faded from Wendell’s face. Personal information. He shrugged. “Not much to tell, really. I have a mom and a few older siblings. Never really knew them though. Everyone was already married and gone by the time I was born. Mistake child I guess.”

“Doubt that,” said the wizard, “You seem to come from a loving home. People loved you, cared for you and that sort of thing?”

“Well, yeah, I guess it was. Well, is. I mean…dad died a few years back—which kinda changed it all. Cancer.”

Alhannah frowned. She looked at Dax, who shook his head and shrugged.

“It’s a disease that grows—kills your body. It…grew in my dad’s…” Wendell trailed off to a whisper, placing a hand over the smiley face, feeling the hard surface of Ithari.

“Chest.”

The smiley whimpered silently.

“Right!” chimed Chuck, “Your turn, son.”

It took a moment for Wendell to gather his thoughts. He shrugged off the feelings of home and locked onto the bright smile of the gnome. “Alhannah, how did you ever get stuck with these two?”

“Hey,” smirked Chuck.

“Oh that’s easy,” she beamed, “my parents. Mom was a fighter, dad a researcher. When mom…vanished, we…I mean, I…” She looked into the fire, as she trailed off. She grit her teeth. After a few moments, Alhannah looked up at Wendell—her eyes moist. She cleared her throat. “Never mind, I’m out.”

Wendell opened his mouth to apologize.

“Right!” chimed the wizard again, “Ask Dax a question, then.”

Wendell bit his lip as Alhannah wrapped her arms around herself and stared into the fire. He stared at the troll, slurping down raw eggs, one after another, making loud smacking noises as he did so. Sure. Ask Dax a question. What could I possibly ask…and not tick him off?

“Ok. Dax…if you could face any enemy of your choice…who would it be?” Wendell grinned at the wizard, quite proud of his thoughtful question and avoiding anything personal. Dax seemed to enjoy the physical discipline of combat.

Chucks face looked unusually pale.

Leaning towards Wendell, the dancing light of the fire created unnatural shadows above Dax’s cheekbones, blacking out his eyes. His thick, dark brows rolled forward into a single, solid, storm cloud. Egg shells rolled over his bottom lip and fell from his mouth.

“My father,” he sneered through clenched teeth.

Alhannah dropped her head forward into her lap, while Dax threw his last egg across the cave and stormed out. Wendell wrapped his arms around himself and rocked back and forth.

“Well,” said Chuck, scratching his head, “…that sucked.”

****

On the forth day, they stumbled across signs of the enemy.

A camp, down in a ravine, set back from any path. Trees had been chopped down and used as fuel.

“What’s that stench!?” Wendell coughed, covering his mouth with his shirt. There was a foul, lingering smell.

Dax jabbed at black piles of excrement under a tree with a stick. “Hound feces.”

Wendell winced and tried not to vomit. “That’s one potent puppy.”

Chuck knelt beside the tree and ran his fingers along a deep groove in the bark. “Chain marks,” he sighed. “Definitely hounds. And they’re big.”

Alhannah knelt near the fire pit. “The coals are still warm. They’re not far ahead of us. Less than half a day. Twelve, maybe fifteen of them.” She scurried around the edge of the camp, until finally kneeling and examining markings in the ground. “The tracks lead south, southwest.”

“I thought the bad guys were going north,” asked Wendell. He moved closer to his companions, shifting away from the woods as if they might snatch him up and carry him away. “How do you know it was, you know, …the bad guys?”

Dax tossed the stick to the ground, ignoring Wendell’s question. “This isn’t the main group—and these guys are staying off the main roads AND they’ve got Hounds. What do they want this far west…’cause they sure ain’t followin’ us?”

The rest of the day was traveled in silence. Keeping to the deeper parts of the forest, each remained wide-eyed and alert. Chuck was overly jumpy, reacting at anything out of the ordinary. A prolonged silence, startled birds taking to the sky overhead—it all caused the old man to hit the ground or hide behind the nearest tree.

Wendell couldn’t sleep that night.

Dax wouldn’t allow a fire to be built, so Wendell had to be content with staring up into the night sky. A million diamonds thrown across a black sheet of silk. He wasn’t sure how to take all this mountain man information being gathered, but not explained. How close are they? Wendell had noticed Dax and Alhannah quietly exchanging information as they hiked through the hills. Are we lost? Do they actually know where we’re going?? The wizard wasn’t any help in belaying his growing fears, either. Chuck wandered aimlessly when left alone, or he would…if he wasn’t hitting the dirt in fear of chittering squirrels.

How was it that we can be moving further south, away from the enemy, but still cross their trail? It just didn’t make sense. Then Dax and Chuck starting exchanging words in private, especially when they’d stopped for the night. No one said a word to Wendell.

He kept staring at Dax’s shadow. The troll was sitting, leaning against a tree and staring into the dark woods.

Can Dax be trusted? Wendell shook his head. It was a silly thought—of course he can. He’s been living with Chuck and the Iskari for who knows how long. He’s grouchy and sometimes mean spirited, but…Chuck trusts him. The wizard was softly snoring against a rock nearby, Alhannah peacefully curled up in a ball next to him. Surely the High Council trusts him too. Right? Besides, it was Dax who was sent to Earth to grab the hero… He hesitated. And he grabbed the wrong guy. Could he have done it on purpose? Grabbed me instead, so evil could win? He shuttered. No! That’s insane. The Council wouldn’t risk the gem falling into the wrong hands, would they? Right. He’s leading us away from the danger. Wendell shook his head again. Of course Dax is on our side. It wasn’t long before he’d worked himself into a profound headache.

The last sliver of doubt tortured him all through the night.

Breakfast the next morning was anything but. It consisted of a single, hard-boiled egg and a small crust of stale bread. Apparently Chuck had told Wendell the truth…the supplies were not endless after all.

“We’ll have to do some hunting soon,” said Alhannah.

“We don’t have time,” replied Dax.

“Well we either make time, or we go hungry,” she countered. “Besides, this’ll be a good opportunity to teach Wendell some useful skills. Time well spent. A little hunting, a little survival…some self-defense. Whaddya say, Wendell?”

He didn’t say a word. Wendell’s face had been frozen, eyes locked on something in the distance for most of the morning.

“I think our boy snapped a noodle,” whispered the wizard.

Chuck leaned over and tousled Wendell’s hair, like a little child, “We’re going to be just fine, son.”

Wendell blinked, painfully. “There’s nowhere for us to run out here.” His voice was shaky, hands trembling. “If we get caught, they’ll kill us. Like dead, kill us.” His mind raced with horrible possibilities that made his stomach turn. Images of the severed torso rotating over the open campfire taunted him. This time his face was on the body. I’m in a forest with hidden cannibals. Lurking. Hunting. He looked at each of them helplessly, his gaze lingering on Chuck. And I’m being protected by the looney squad. His bottom lip quivered.

“I’m not even ready to be fairly bruised,” he complained out loud, “I don’t want to be killed dead.”

Alhannah smiled at him reassuringly. “First of all Wendell, in the woods, there’s all sorts of places to run. Secondly, I think it’s a good time to start some self-defense lessons. Build some confidence.”

“Right,” coughed the old wizard, shaking his beard clean of crumbs. “I’ve got this.” He stood up and did a few side bends, trunk twists and jumping jacks. “Chuck-Fu it is.”

Taking a deep breath, the old wizard pulled his elbows back to his sides and took a shoulder-width stance. Pushing his knees outward, he squatted, exhaling. There was a pop…then a groan…then a thud as his legs buckled and he hit the ground, butt first.

Dax laughed out loud, wiping a tear from his eye. “That looked more like Chuck-Fooey to me.” He laughed again, “Oh let’s get moving…”

“Don’t you mock me,” snapped the wizard, “I will have you know I spent my life battling impossible odds, defying demons, dragons, death…and mild uncomfortableness whenever possible. Wipe that smug look from your face, monkey—I’ve SEEN the plagues of every great civilization: GREED! LUST FOR POWER! IGNORANCE!…FAT WOMEN IN SPANDEX!!” He shuddered violently, “Trust me, belly fat shouldn’t be allowed that much freedom.”

But Wendell wasn’t paying attention. His mind was taunting him again.

****

The day was long, the fog thick. Much to Wendell’s relief, it gave them plenty of cover as they traveled. Dax lead them higher and higher, until he stood above the dense moisture. The highlands poked through the clouds like great islands in the sky. Unfortunately, the thick cover came with a price. Bitter cold and the slush of an early snowfall at high altitudes made the experience utterly miserable for the gnome. Wendell listened to the clatter of Alhannah’s armor and weapons as she trudged on without complaining.

By nightfall, they had worked their way back down near the valley. Dax discovered a sheltered outcropping to make camp.

Wendell quickly set about to gather firewood, while the other three tried to warm up. Dax was too numb to use his fingers. Alhannah attempted to use her dagger and flint, to no avail. The blade fumbled from her fingers and flipped into the dirt. When Wendell finally stepped forward to take over, he was promptly shoved aside by the wizard.

“This is taking too long,” Chuck said, his teeth chattering violently. He held out his walking staff and turned his head away. “I don’t care what you say, monkey…I’m cheating tonight.”

Springing to his feet, Dax jumped back and threw his hands up over his face.

Wendell had never really paid much attention to Chucks staff. It was certainly interesting to watch it come and go, floating and jumping in and out of the wizards hands—but he’d never taken a closer look. He stood next the wizard to get a glance. The grooves in the wood looked a great deal like scales, the knots like eyes, and the ripples and waves in the wood like the curvature of…skin.

It was a tiny dragon!

Slender wings folded back over its curved body and a long tail wrapped around the staff it perched on.

Chuck shook the staff firmly, pointing it at the dry firewood. “Well…go on now—light it already,” he demanded. Reaching out with his other hand, he rapped the dragon on the head with a knuckle. “Wake UP I say!”

Wendell almost lost his balance when he noticed the rounded arch of wood flinch, then blink. Lifting its horned head, the staff…or the creature upon it, stretched its neck…and finally rotated its shoulders, spreading two paper-thin wings. The bulbous beak turned to its master, a small forked tongue flicking into the wind.

Chuck shook the staff violently, “Get a move on, you lazy walking stick!”

The dragon hissed and flipped its head abruptly, opening its mouth. Flame leapt from the staff, consuming the neatly arranged wood. Twigs and logs popped and crackled. The dragon turned back and hissed once more, before reverting back to its original inanimate form.

Taken aback,  “I don’t know where you learned such language, but just for that,” the wizard tossed it into a crevice of the rocks, “you go sit in the corner.”

Alhannah put her hands near the flames, rubbing them in relief.

Dax slowly opened his eyes and blinked.

“Huh. You actually did it,” he scratched his head. “No one got hurt…and you still have your beard. Good job.”

Chuck waved away the comments and plopped down next to the fire. Poking a couple marshmallows onto a stick, he passed the bag to Alhannah. “Don’t look so surprised. I have my moments.”

“That you do,” Dax said politely.

They ate what remained of their food near the warmth of the flames—the last scraps of bread and some aged cheese that Chuck found in the recesses of his hat. Moldy parts were handed to Dax, who eagerly scarfed them down. They also discovered a small stream nearby, which provided fresh water for their skins.

Wendell and Alhannah took the time to clean the dirt and grime from their own skin.

The gnome returned with a collection of mook berries, gathered in her cloak, which she had quietly harvested near the waters edge. With little to no wind, all they had to content with was an occasional stray ember leaping out of the campfire.

Washed, warm and somewhat fed, Alhannah began humming a tune to herself as she braided her hair.

Dax sat upright. “Sing it out loud, Alhannah, or you won’t do it justice.”

Wendell thought the gnome looked so very tiny, without her armor on—the pale color of her bare forearms like cream against the firelight.

“You sing?” he asked.

She shook her head, fingers lingering in her hair strands. “It’s my brother who has the talent in the family. Brilliant kid—he writes and performs all over, but there’s one he wrote for our people. It’s what I cling to when I’m far away from home.”

“Then sing it,” Dax encouraged again.

She looked almost embarrassed. “Not tonight.”

It seemed odd to Wendell, this walking, talking, sword-slinging warrior. For all the rage and skill and fight in her, she seemed to have a softer side she was afraid to let out. Then again, she did show a nurturing side. At least as a sister and daughter. He couldn’t resist asking, “What made you decide to become a fighter, Alhannah?”

Dax and Chuck stayed silent.

She stared through the flames at Wendell, her eyes glowing aggressively, like polished emeralds.

Wendell shifted in his seat, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

“It was my mother.”

Wendell frowned, “Your…”

“My mother,” Alhannah repeated, “She was part of the elite N.E.R.D.S. team.”

Wendell stifled a laugh. Chuck shook his head vigorously.

“I’m sorry,…nerds?”

“National Environmental Recon Deployment Service,” she clarified, “charged with exploring new locations and resource acquisition for Clockworks City. She was a damage control specialist. Translation: a tarkin good fighter. My mother was…how did the government say it, Dax?”

The troll stretched out on his bedroll and yawned. “Freakishly skilled.”

Wendell’s eyebrows arched upward, “Really?”

Alhannah smiled, “Yeah. Always loved that ‘official’ definition. She had a gift for pain. Dad was on contract and mom was second in command under Lieutenant Pickett.” She dropped her gaze into the flames, her hands lowering to her lap, her little fingers kneading warmth into her palms. “I always wanted to be like mom. Especially when she…”

“Shhh!” hissed Dax his head popping up, ears twitching.

“Dax,” chastised Chuck, “she was in the middle of bearing her soul, you nit!”

Dax rolled up onto his hands and feet like a cat, turning his gargantuan head from side to side. “We’ve got company!” he whispered and scurried away, up between the rocks and into the night.

Without a moments hesitation, Alhannah pulled on her vest and mail shirt over her head. Securing her armor with a belt, she grabbed her weapons and likewise dashed into the darkness.

The wizard sighed. “I hope there won’t be running involved. Have I mentioned that I hate running?”

Dax nimbly weaved through rocks and trees. Wendell trailed behind Alhannah, helping the wizard along. We’re running towards the danger? How does this make any sense? If there’s someone nearby—shouldn’t we be going the opposite direction!?? The gnome ran and hopped around obstacles without effort, occasionally turning back to encourage the wizard forward.

Chuck wasn’t amused, however, and openly objected to being taken so far from the warm fire he worked so hard to start.

As the party reached the top of a small hill, Wendell’s legs nearly buckled under him.

Tha-THUMP-Thump!

Urrk!! Clutching his chest, Wendell pulled at the collar of the t-shirt, a burning sensation creeping up and into his throat like a backed up sink. What’s happening to me!? He fell forward, struggling for breath. He nearly took Chuck with him and had to catch himself against a tree.

“You alright, son?”

“Come on guys!” stressed Alhannah.

Tha-THUMP-Thump!

“I’m…fine,” Wendell lied, swallowing painfully, “I’m right behind you.”

And then they all heard it. An echo rising above the fog.

Thundering drums and the high-pitched ringing of metal. Clashing. The biting of steel. Screams. Shouts. Growing louder.

They stopped where the jagged rocks met the forest below in what looked to be the rubble of an old avalanche. Giant boulders and fallen trees, intermingling and piled high just beyond a forest clearing. The tall trees grew up to meet the ledge they were perched on, creating a small fan of cover. On the other side, less than forty feet below, lights moved, fires blazed as the sounds of battle raged.

Dax, lying on his belly atop the biggest boulder—motioned for them to do the same. He placed a finger to his lips.

“What teams are playing?” whispered Alhannah, scooting close to Dax. She was grinning. She patted Wendell on the arm. “Hey—maybe you’ll get that training you asked for. Nothing like an unexpected, life-threatening event to gain some experience.”

Wendell looked at her aghast. Is she psychotic? A man screamed from somewhere in the distance and was abruptly cut short in silence. Wendell trembled. “You’re joking, right?”

Alhannah elbowed him, as if she was being teased, completely unaffected by the horrid sounds of death. “What you need is some adrenaline pumping, Mahan’s-Pink-Panties-I’m-Gonna-Die conflict.” She winked, “It’ll clear your senses, I guarantee it.”

A trickle of acid crept up the back of Wendell’s throat, coating his tongue. She loves this stuff, which is….disturbing. He tried to smile back, but could only manage it half-heartedly. …maybe I shouldn’t have asked for her help.

“Let’s get a closer look,” Dax whispered…and pulled himself forward on his belly.

“Closer!?” Wendell squeaked, but he immediately slapped a hand over his own mouth. He lowered his tone. “You’ve got to be kidding!”

“Shhh!” Dax hissed back, shooting Wendell a warning glare. Keeping low, polka dotted behind in the air, he crept up to the ledge, staying behind the sparse weeds growing out from between the rocks. Alhannah and Chuck followed in like.

Wendell followed, nervously, like an arthritic caterpillar—his butt rising and falling as he went. Not good…not good…not good.

Burning wagons and tents lit the battlefield, illuminating the conflict between men and beasts. Swords flashed in the night, while screams of agony ripped the air. The mountain wall reverberated the sounds of battle across the landscape, repeating the sounds of pain and death.

Hundreds of human soldiers formed tight ranks—most shoulder to shoulder—shields raised, spears thrusting. Wave after wave of deformed and enraged creatures, poured out of the darkness. Howling like banshees, they lunged and jumped, screaming, swinging with fist, claw and club.

Soldiers stood their ground, defying the horde.

Wendell could hear their chants. A rising call of deep voices, shouting out as they pushed against the enemy:

GIVE NO GROUND, LEAVE NO PREY,

PROTECT THE BACKS OF MEN,

FEAR NOT THE NIGHT, FOR WE ARE BRAVE,

TURN AGAIN AND REND!

TOGETHER MIGHTY SOLDIERS,

CUT THEM, MAKE THEM FLEE!

FOR BARDS SHALL SING OF ALL YOUR DEEDS,

AND HEROES YOU SHALL BE!

With each shout, the humans surged forward. Knocking the enemy aside, trampling them under foot. Spears pierced flesh, punctured chest and skull. Swords flashed and severed limbs.

Wendell cringed, gripping the stone to keep from shaking. I don’t want to see this. I can’t see this. It’s going to give me a complex, I just know it.

Animals with jagged teeth, curved tusks and thick fur lunged at the lines. They looked like giant puma’s, dark and sleek, with six legs…and scales. They tackled the humans, knocking a dozen or more to the ground. Thick claws raked away armor as if it were cloth—teeth sinking deep into exposed flesh. Some of the beasts found their demise at the end of spears and swords, while others howled victory.

The sounds seized Wendell. Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap. We need to go back. Need to hide, get some help! He wanted to vomit and he clenched his eyes tight. I don’t want to see anymore! Please don’t make me see anymore.

“PLEASE!” he finally begged out loud in an strained whisper.

“Shhh!” Alhannah said, quickly slapping a hand over Wendell’s mouth. She frowned in an are-you-insane-you-moron? look he couldn’t mistake. He yanked his head back.

“What’s wrong with you guys?!” he wheezed, “You’re supposed to run in the opposite direction when you find people dying. You could be next!”

With a frightfully firm grip on his arm, Chuck tugged at Wendell. “Now you listen to me, son. I know this isn’t easy. I know it’s frightful—but you’re not here for tea and biscuits. You’re here to make a difference! No, you don’t feel like you can do anything yet. Fine. But those men down there are doing their duty.” He tugged again on Wendell’s arm, “Doing their duty…despite the odds against them. This isn’t about fighting fights you can win, son. This is about fighting for other people who can’t. You…” Chuck jabbed Wendell hard with a boney thumb, “are our ultimate back-up plan!”

Wendell’s stomach heaved.

The wizard released his grip. “Get used to it.”

Arrows flew across the field with deadly accuracy, impaling the cat-like beasts through neck and face. Shafts that hungered for soft leather, soft throats and open mouthes found their targets. Even an armored juggernaut fell to crossbowman, who targeted their heavy bolts at the Vallen’s protective chest plate and helmet.

Chuck groaned. “That’s Til-Thorin’s flag.”

“This far south?” whispered Dax. He flinched as a human crashed against the ledge. Bones snapped. The corpse slid off the slight incline and fell to the battlefield below. “That doesn’t make any sense…why would they leave the Keep?”

The wizard bit his lip. He pulled at the weeds beneath his hands. “Govind,” he whispered sadly.

The dawn had already begun to reveal its light along the belly of the clouds. Near the center of the conflict, standing in a semi-circle, were a handful of knights surrounding their fallen leader. Several black shafts protruded from a mound of bright silver armor. Wendell couldn’t see a face or much detail. Only that standing over the silver knight was an old man in faded red robes. His long, white beard complimented the silver emblems along his sleeves, reflecting the firelight.

“You know these men?” asked Wendell.

“The mägo,” the wizard choked, “is a friend. Govind,” he repeated, “A…dear friend. I was hoping to take you to him. Ask him to begin your training.”

Govind made sudden lifting motions with his hands, clawing through the air. Flames leapt from the burning wagons, arching through the trees in rolling pillars. Like serpents seeking mice, the flames lashed out, consuming enemies unwilling to retreat from the battlefield. Giants cried out in agony as armor melted, bubbling and turning to slag against their skin.

Cheers rang out from the humans.

Wendell watched, transfixed, as the mägo’s hands flared with a white intensity. This guy’s my teacher? The field lit up with the brilliance of a small star. Light also flared from Govind’s eyes. Trees burst into flames. The sparse grass withered and the few patches of early snow hissed, evaporating under its touch.

Wendell grinned, Coooool.

The Vallen had stopped advancing, but they didn’t retreat beyond the rim of the forest. A black robe, hobbling along, pushed its way through the ranks.

Alhannah hissed like a cat.

Wendell looked to the wizard in concern.

“Tauku,” answered Dax. He reached over and squeezed Alhannah’s hand. “Ain’t nothing a gnome hates more.”

The hooded hunchback silently lumbered across the field, the flames flickering and dying out as it passed. The soldiers from both sides withdrew from the battlefield.

Govind stepped down from the knoll and into the small clearing. He weaved his way through the mangled bodies of noble soldiers, light still flaring from his eyes.

The ground shook. A tremor. Then another.

Splitting at the feet of the Tauku, the rock and soil ripped open. The tremors continued as nature moaned in anger. The black robe stumbled backwards, hobbling to retreat, but the crack expanded, arcing wide until the robe was encircled, its escape route cut off.

Govind’s very skin glowed with power and Wendell could hear the mägo chanting. With a final shudder, the ground heaved flame and molten rock out of the fissure, engulfing the Tauku.

Deafening cheers exploded from the humans, swords banging against shields.

The cheer, however, was short lived. Flames gathered and curled like the rolling waves of the sea, twisting and lifting above the black robes. The Tauku stood in the center of the isle…unscathed.

A rapid succession of shrill sounds pierced the night. For a moment, Wendell swore that he saw snake heads flicking out from under the cloth of the mägo’s black hood.

Wings stretched forth, claws formed and a long tail rolled out through the trees, setting them aflame. The dragon blinked its golden globes and launched itself into the air. A fanged maw opened in a silent roar, circling in the sky.

It dove at the battlefield.

Archers fired arrows, to no avail, some rolling to safety as others too slow to react were consumed. The dead fell in piles of ash. Wendell watched Govind—the light still shining brilliantly from his eyes. He called out words Wendell didn’t understand, pointing at the serpent of flame.

The dragon rolled and dove, mouth agape, claws extended. Teeth snapped over Govind as the white light flared.

The dragon vanished.

Govind’s charred body collapsed to the ground.

With a deafening roar, the horde launched themselves across the field, charging past the laughing Tauku.

…and the slaughter commenced.

Wendell bit his own tongue to keep from yelling out. The tavern was scary, but this!? His chest heaved, fear clawing the back of his mind. How can I do this…if that guy was supposed to be my teacher?!

He looked up at Chuck.

The wizard didn’t smile. He didn’t try to comfort Wendell at all.

Wendell clenched his eyes tight, trying to block out the screams he could still hear on the battlefield below. This is nothing like the movies. Nothing like I imagined. Playing all those role playing games—watching so many action movies. He took a deep breath and slowly let the air out. Hold it together, Wendell.

“Let’s get out of here before they start looking for us!” whispered Dax. He slowly backed away from the ledge.

A finger poked him on the shoulder.

Dax froze.

Wendell, trembling, grabbed onto Chucks arm.

“Woah! Careful now, son, or I might end up down there with…what’s the matter?”

The wizard looked up and flinched so hard, he almost fell off the ledge. “MAHAN’S PINK PANTIES!”

Dax looked over his shoulder…just as the club struck him across the temple.

“HEEL!” laughed the giant shadow, as Dax’s body flipped and rolled up against the cliff.

“DON’T LET THE OLD ONE GET AWAY!” barked a second voice, but Wendell couldn’t tell where it was coming from.

Chuck looked at him and sighed, “Did I mention I hate running?”