CHAPTER 1

WHAT NOW?

Do not trust in the arm of flesh.

It’s not that the flesh is always evil…but relying on someone who cannot meet your needs is unwise.

You want to trust, to believe and hope…but as long as circumstances are greater than a persons capacity to perfectly control those circumstances—there will always be the possibility of failure.

Thus flesh will always falter in the end.

It had been a while since Wendell had been alone.

Completely alone.

He found the chirping of crickets soothing. Nature, having a conversation with him. It was also the only sound that stood out in the crisp night breeze.

Spring was here, but the season couldn’t quite kick the winter chill.

Patches of snow still littered the ground, while grass stubbornly poked its head upright wherever the ice was thinnest.

The mägoweave he wore—a gift from the wizard Morphiophelius—protected him from the elements. The result being that the breeze felt wonderful against Wendell’s hot skin.

He raised both arms over his head and stretched, shoulders and upper back popping in response.

What a beautiful night…

Stealing a large portion of the sky were two huge moons. Giant sphere’s of powder blue looming overhead, casting their glow upon the inhabitants below. Wendell couldn’t help but grin in amazement.

Not sure I’m ever going to get used to seeing more than one moon in the sky like this.

After all, this wasn’t Earth.

It was Elämä.

The name meant life…and there was certainly a lot of that running around. Plants, people, animals, so many new and exciting things to see, learn about and experience.

Then there was the magic.

Amazing, mind bending, addictive magic—used in every day life.

It never got old, watching people manipulate the very fabric of reality. Moving things, changing things, shaping the environment in ways Wendell had never considered. It was like…well, magic.

He chuckled softly.

Wendell had already learned to use magic in a few ways ways. That in and of itself was exciting. People back home would never believe what he could do. Light, for example, was little more than a thought and minor exertion of will. It could be shaped and expanded.

Magic was harder to perform than Wendell had realized, though. It wasn’t at all like the movies or fantasy books he’d read growing up. You couldn’t just wish for something to happen, wave a hand or stick made of some rare wood and get a result.

There were rules.

Costs were associated to everything you did.

At first Wendell found it a bit frustrating. You had to say things just right. Not just pronunciation, but the inflection in the words you used. Intent mattered. The good news was it wasn’t long before Wendell realized the complexities and effort required made learning magic all the more exciting.

You had to earn the skills…and it was worth every moment spent.

Wendell had started going through the school books Chuck had bought him during a trip to the Black Market. Books on the basics of how magic worked—on the disciplines and areas that one might study and become proficient in.

Most of the information didn’t make sense to him.

Not yet, anyway.

Can’t wait to receive real training, with a real tutor. Books are great, but they’re even better when you can actually read them and apply what you learn!

It would come, he told himself. It will come.

But magic and training was for tomorrow.

Tonight, it was time to rest.

No meetings. No obligations.

Chuck said to rest from travels and responsibilities. Wendell stroked his invisible beard and dropped his tone a few octaves, “You just forget what those blueberries want for now. They’re not in charge and they don’t know what’s best for you. I want you see you doing nothing but letting go.” So that was exactly what I’m doing.

Wendell took a deep breath of the chill air—letting his lungs fill to capacity.

He held it in the quiet night.

Among the beautiful nature.

The village seemed so small from up on the hill. Small groupings of houses sitting among a clearing of trees, surrounded by a vast mountain forest. They’d traveled for days through this forest, which stretched east and west for hundreds of miles.

What fascinated Wendell was how tall the trees were. They looked like an army of giants looming in the darkness behind the village.

Tiny tips of the trees reaching up to tickle the moonlight.

Wendell grinned wide. I’m on another planet. Among alien people. How cool is that!?

He’d thought his life would amount to nothing after high school. And he he was—walking among the stars, as the hero of an entire world!

Mrs. MacCallister would be choking on her coffee right about now.

How many teachers, jocks, and the ‘in-crowd’ could say that they spoke with and interacted with aliens?

…and not from across the border type aliens.

“Have you tried a glowing snail yet Missy Thompkins?” he chuckled out loud. “Try them with butter—they’re yummy.”

Truth be told, there wasn’t a single high school counselor that wouldn’t have a serious brain-fart just contemplating where Wendell was and what he was doing at this very moment.

He sat upright and puffed out his chest.

With a single nod, he said, “I am a super hero.”

Looking from side to side and finding no one to challenge this statement of truth, he thrust out his chest further.

“With a babe-magnet diamond the size of a softball embedded in my chest.”

Hmmm. That didn’t sound as cool as he thought it would once it left his lips.

“A magical diamond,” he added, “giving me the power to bend reality to my will.”

Ohhhhh, he grinned, that sounds good.

I’m a hero.

An accidental hero, sure—but hey—I still got the job.

What he wasn’t truly prepared for, was that with this job came a slew of expectations.

Wendell pinched and rubbed the bridge of his nose with two fingers.

So many expectations…by so many people.

Which isn’t unreasonable, he told himself.

I’m not sure I can meet those expectations, but this is their world. Their lives. And they’ve had a plan in place to deal with the evils of this world for hundreds—thousand—well who knows HOW long!? So of course they’re going to have expectations.

Wendell inhaled through his nose and rolled his shoulders back.

Don’t go there, Wendell. It’s not helpful. You don’t need any more stress. The answers will come. It may take some time, but they’ll come.

Wendell had developed a habit of talking to himself when alone. It wasn’t a new habit, of course, but it did seem to be growing since he’d arrived.

That’s because you’re not sure who you can trust. This is about self-preservation. Trust no one but the Ithari. Right?

He nodded to himself.

Right.

His nod quickly faded.

It wasn’t right.

There were people he could trust, and Wendell had proof.

Dax and Alhannah were at deaths door because they had supported him. They didn’t question where they stood concerning Wendell.

Don’t go there. Anywhere but there. You’re the Wendellizer. You have to be strong!

Besides, who talks to themselves, anyway?

Okay, other than Chuck?

Talking to yourself is as odd as having an imaginary friend.

Wendell looked down at his chest.

Not a word from you.

His fingers, almost of their own accord, rose to touch the circular ridge protruding from his chest.

Wendell snorted out loud.

Imaginary friend. Right.

Since arriving Wendell had been chased, kidnapped, beaten, tortured, thrown in the garbage, chained up, manipulated, poisoned, burned, and even killed.

Well, technically killed, anyway.

That was just the first six months.

Then again, he’d also become the first human to win the Trench Wars title in Clockworks City. He had to do it under the enchanted guise of a gnome, sure, but it didn’t make competition any easier.

Heh, he chuckled to himself, It’s been been a busy year.

Talking to ones self, Wendell concluded, is one of the few ways left to have a decent conversation without being interrupted or lied to.

Looking up into the bright night sky, he took in another deep chest-full of crisp air.

Stop thinking about the past. You’re free now from Noah. No one’s chasing you. You’re safe. Just enjoy the night air—enjoy the quiet. Enjoy being alone with the trees, the forest, the beautiful mountains and…

A distant sound cut through the rhythm of chirping crickets.

Howling.

Wendell froze.

Without moving his head, wide eyes darted about, scanning what he could see of the treeline to his left and right. His fingers gripped his pants tightly…and even the smiley on his shirt snapped wide awake.

The howl continued for one long breath that seemed to last most of a minute.

For some reason it never occurred to Wendell as he walked out, into the dark…..alone…that there might be something wild and dangerous out here.

…in the middle of the night,…in the mountains,…surrounded by a giant forest…obviously filled with animals he couldn’t see.

That’s when Wendell realized he was a moron.

The long drawl and pitch—was identical to something he could have heard back on Earth. At the same time, his gut twisted and pulled at him, whimpering at what might have made the sound.

It lingered, slightly rising before it died off.

Something was calling out.

Searching.

The thought made the hair on Wendell’s neck stand on end.

Nawwwww, he argued, Wolves make sounds like that. But they’re communicating with other wolves, right? Righhhht!

“Hello?” he said aloud without thinking.

He flinched at the sound of his own voice. It seemed so loud. So alone in the night.

What are you doing, you dummy? Who calls out to a howl? Where’s the brains in that?!

Another howl cut through the night air. This time much closer.

Wendell’s spine snapped rigid.

The sound came from behind him, where the blackness of the forest was deepest.

Wendell gulped.

Of course it came from behind me. Cause that’s how the Universe rolls with me. It lulls me into a sense of semi-fear, then WHAM! Smacks me across the face with zombie-brain-slurping-terror!

The light from the moons didn’t afford him much of an advantage. He’d been walking in the grassy field for a while, not paying attention to where he was going. He’d been drifting towards the forest edge and hadn’t even noticed. Now the tree line was only a rocks throw away.

Wendell was in the open, completely exposed.

Crap. Crap. CRAP! Wendell complained. Hopping to his feet, he began a light jog towards the village. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

Run Wendell.

Another howl.

THA-THUMP-THUMP!

Seriously? I have to be scared AND have you pushing me…because YOU’RE worried?!? He set his sight on a single light in the village and took off running. COME ON LEGS—Don’t FAIL me now!!

Get To The Houses, Wendell.

I’m going! I’m going!!

The stars out in their majesty danced among the twin moons high in the night sky, and for a moment, Wendell caught a glimpse of the fading flame of Erimuri. The ‘desert flower’, people called it—which was a bold, beautiful reminder that people lived on the moon.

The Iskari people.

Millions upon millions of crystals, both glowing and reflecting the light of the hidden sun, granting the magnificent city the illusion of being a giant flower of yellow and red light, burning in the darkness.

Even a glance from the corner of his eye made him gasp at the sheer beauty of the creation.

Wow.

Sanctuary was the only safe place Wendell knew. A place to rest without having to worry about being hunted, abused, or doing something wrong.

Get To The Houses, Wendell.

Another howl split the night air behind him—the sound so close, it echoed into the open valley.

…which made it impossible to pinpoint.

Focus, Wendell—you have GOT to get out of here! Go, go, GO!!

This howl was immediately accompanied by another.

Branches snapped to his left along the tree line.

THA-THUMP-THUMP!

Wendell’s heart pounded in his chest—blood pumping so hard it echoed in his own ears.

Whatever that is, it’s near the tree line and might be able to see me!

Feeling a desperate need to get out of sight, he made a lunge towards a rock formation in front of him.

It seemed like such a simple a maneuver.

…in his mind.

Instead of rolling smoothly, coming to his knees and dropping down the other side of the stone, he stumbled. His toes crossing one another, sending him into a tumble, face-first.

In one awkward motion, Wendell hit the stone ribs first, then his shoulder. The momentum of his body rolled him over the far edge and onto a patch of grass like a 50lb sack of potatoes.

Wendell’s face bounced off the ground with a loud “UNGH!”

He quietly bit his lip.

Don’t give away your position! Don’t make a sound!!

Scraped and sore from the impact, his ribs burned like lava. Wendell clenched his teeth tightly together and quickly propped himself up.

Poking his head over the lip of the stone, Wendell caught glance of a shadow emerging from the trees.

It didn’t have four legs, or fur…or even a wagging tail.

In fact, it didn’t look anything LIKE a wolf.

It slithered low to the ground at a shocking speed, darting a short distance, then stopping abruptly, its head perking up, looking from side to side.

What the heck IS that thing?

THA-THUMP-THUMP!

THA-THUMP-THUMP!!

Get To The Light!

A sudden breeze rolled across the open field, up the hillside, over Wendell and into the forest.

Oh SURE, Wendell trembled, now it has my scent!

He glanced over his shoulder towards the village. It wasn’t that far away, and he could see a clear-ish path down the hillside.

Get to the village, Wendell, he told himself. The last thing you need is to have some wolf-badger-dragon-gerbil-thingy eating your handsome face! Think of all the girls that haven’t met you or been swayed by your charm. They’ll be heartbroken if you have no face!

No, you need to get to that village and get inside. Preferably to hide among people with really big sticks!

But for some reason Wendell couldn’t get his body to move.

Oh come on, you. It’s time to get in gear! Breathe, Wendell,….breathe—It was small. It wasn’t far away…it was just small. Small enough to kick if it gets too close. Now get up and run. Pitter-patter, pitter-patter…get those feet moving, buster!!

Wendell froze.

He frowned.

Fingers, trembling, reached out to touch the jagged patterns of the rock in front of him.

Have I…been here before?

The thought was absurd. The whole reason he’d come to…

What was the name of the village?

Ithari, have we…

ARGH!

He flinched, shoulders rising, his chin clenched tightly against his chest. The sharp pain pierced Wendell’s temple like a nail, stabbing inward just behind his eyes.

For several moments he gripped the rocks white-knuckled, gritting through the pain.

Another howl ripped the air, this time from the open ground.

Wendell’s spine jumped.

“That’s it,” he whispered nervously, blinking through the blistering jabs behind his eyes. “We’re done talking! Move your butt, Wendell, before something finds it, chews it up, and spits it out in the middle of this field!”

Ignoring the sounds, Wendell pushed himself to his feet and focused on the only task at hand.

A task he was quite experienced in.

Running away.

That’s right Wendell, run. Just keep moving, he told himself, don’t look back! The last thing he wanted added to his list of growing experiences, was to be EATEN.

Go, go, go…he focused. The village is close. Come on feet….MOOOOOVE IT!

Turns out not wanting to be the chew-toy of the unknown is a great motivator. Wendell pushed his legs to move faster and faster, ignoring the burning of his lungs.

This is, until he stepped into some animal hole and twisted his ankle.

The momentum threw his body forward, slamming him face-first into grass and mud with a THUUDD! Wind knocked from his lungs, the world spun round—hundreds of sparkling lights exploding and dancing about the rim of his vision. Pain pulsed through his jawbone.

Rolling onto his back, Wendell pulled his knee towards his chest, clenching his teeth tight to keep from crying out in pain.

Dang it, Wendell! We’re on the run and you have to go and wound your ankle?! Pain ripped up the inside of his leg and calf, hitting the inside of his knee like a hot dagger.

Wendell bit his lip hard. Seriously?? You’ve graduated to the helpless movie girl move?!? ‘Run, Wendell, run! …and yet when he hits the clearing, with the attacker chasing, he trips, right in the middle of the path. Then, instead of getting his butt UP AND RUNNING, he looks around, with that so-stupid-and-utterly-helpless-doe-in-the-headlights look, hoping that someone will come and rescue him from his own pathetic ness!!

THA-THUMP-THUMP!

The crickets went silent.

Wendell’s ears twitched.

The world around him held its breath.

Another gust of wind washed over him, and he couldn’t decide if he should cry out, keep his mouth shut…or wet himself.

You gotta move, Wendell…you’re out in the open. Swallowing the pain, he twisted his hips and forced himself to crawl behind a small set of rocks jutting out from the snow, dragging his bad leg behind him.

Come on, Ithari…I need your help to get through this.

With all his might, he tried hard to make himself smaller and sink back into the nothing that was silence. To become a part of the rock he was hiding behind.

For several minutes, all Wendell could hear in the lingering silence was the beating of his own heart heavy in his ears, while the throbbing of the Ithari working her healing pulled at his attention.

Thank you Itha—

“Hsssssss.”

The sound lingered, drawing closer overhead.

Wendell slowly pulled his legs in tighter, tucking his face into the stone.

Snakes? Of all the things I had to deal with tonight, we went from wolves to giant snakes!?! That’s it…game over. I wanna go home.

Wendell—Get To The Light! Do Not Stop Until You Get To The Village!!

Too afraid to look, Wendell kept low and rolled back over onto his belly, crawling across the grass as fast as he could.

Come on, man, get up! Move it!

Another howl.

The sound caused Wendell to slap a hand over his own mouth, his heart threatening to pound right out of his chest.

The sound wasn’t from an animal.

…it sounded like a wounded person.

It was a cry.

A distinct…moan.

Wendell’s hands shook violently.

No. Stay calm, Wendell. Stay calm.

Wolves…or whatever was howling, was far scarier than a snake.

Well,…as long as it’s a small snake.

Wendell could feel the warmth washing over skin and pulsing through bone and muscle. Would it be enough? He needed to find some sort of…

His attention was immediately pulled back to the present.

“Hssssss. Skkrrrrrr. Skkrrrrrr. Skkrrrrrr.”

It sounded like scraping. Something large, being dragged over gravel.

“Hssssss.”

Crap. Oh Crap. CRAP!

Hands quivering, Wendell pushed off the ground and darted towards the village as fast as his feet would carry him.

Of course it’s a huge snake! Why would it be small? I’m out here in the middle of nowhere, all by myself, so why wouldn’t there be something big, nasty, and dangerous to EAT ME!??

The sounds followed him in pace.

“Hssssss. Skkrrrrrr. Skkrrrrrr. Skkrrrrrr.”

Screw calm! RUNNNN!!!

Wendell ignored his burning ankle as best he could. Remembering his air soft competition training as his teams distraction target, he darting back and forth in a weaving pattern.

Duck and weave…DUCK AND WEAVE!

His mind kept visualizing long fangs piercing his legs, injecting deadly alien poison to paralyze him long enough to swallow him whole.

Okay mom—you were right—all those late night horror movies were NOT a good idea! Stupid teenagers screaming and dying because they wouldn’t listen to adults.

A small whimper escaped his lips and he ran.

I don’t want to become animal poo!

“Skkrrrt. Skkrrrt. Skkrrrt. Skkrrrt. Skkrrrt. Skkrrrt.”

The movements were fast and loud—briefly scraping against the rock patches.

Please. Please. Please, he pleaded. Don’t…, and he stopped whimpering.

Like a splash of cold water in the face, he blinked.

Then blinked again.

Wait a minute. I have been here.

The trees, the grass, the stupid hole he fell in. Wendell quickly took in everything he saw as he darted down the hill. It was just like the dream back at Til-Thorin. Over and over he’d had the same dream. Some of the pieces shifted or changed, but the whole of the experience had remained the same.

That was the point. The underlying message.

This…isn’t real.

Problem was, he wasn’t actually positive he was correct.

This has to mean something regardless, he convinced himself.

Then he saw it.

The light from the moons cast long shadows along the ground. Dark shapes moved near Wendell’s shoulder.

It was not a snake.

Tattered and worn, the creature was dragging itself across the rocks and grass.

Wendell couldn’t believe what he was seeing at first. The contours didn’t follow any recognizable form he knew, but one thing looked certain…the beast had been in a fight. Its skin, which hung loosely from its body, looked flayed. Both arms, back and belly were rent like fabric, long fibers hanging from its form.

I-it can’t be…

Wendell kept running, watching the shadow projected in front of him.

He couldn’t help himself.

…he turned his head and glanced back.

The creature lunged forward, dragging its mass at unbelievable speed.

“EEEEEP!” Wendell squealed, darting to the side.

The creature rolled across the grass and regained its composure and pace almost instantly.

RUN!

I AM! I AM!!

The clearing narrowed as he approached the village. Grass and wild flowers turned to orchards and tilled ground, forcing Wendell to slow as it gave way under his sneakers.

“HSSSST!”

Without warning, the creature lunged at Wendell again.

Instinctively he threw himself forward, rolling in the dirt like a bad B-rated movie hero…the giant snake-thingy crashing wildly into a tree trunk.

It was not wounded animal.

Wendell cringed, stumbling back to his feet and dashing between two trees. Gasping for breath, he grabbed one of the thin trunks and let his forward momentum carry him in an arc away from the creature of his nightmares.

A flicker of shadow whipped out where he once stood and the tree trunk splintered.

“Jussst a boy. Jussst a CHILD.”

Trembling, Wendell shuffled backwards, weaving through the trees to keep distance between him and the…

“No,” he choked, “You’re not real. You’re,” but he couldn’t finish the statement. Thoughts and feelings collided with such clarity—it all came to him in an instant.

The creature swayed in front of him, reeling up like a viper. A robe of charcoal blackness.

Til-Thorin. The dreams. The things seeking after the shard. That’s what you are! But… he hesitated. It couldn’t be real. The robe didn’t exist. It had been another creature in a robe that Wendell fought. One with magic, trying to kill Lili.

Hollow, vacant holes stared back where a face should be. Shredded sleeves in place of hands of flesh, reaching out…yearning.

“Clossssser child. Let ussss end your pain.”

Like a specter, it moved slowly towards him, crawling, prowling along, pausing only to stand upright. It towered over Wendell even while it hunched, arms outstretched. Fingers—or the cloth version thereof, curled inward. The words projected into Wendell’s mind, chilling him to the bone.

“You made your choice, boy.”

“NO!” Wendell screamed, his senses returning. The robe lunged again—but not before Wendell arched wide, sidestepping to avoid its attack. The swipe from fleshless claws raked only air as a blur of motion flashed between them.

With a thunderous growl, a giant wolf lunged in front of the hero and sunk its teeth into the outstretched arm of the tattered robe.

Wendell never heard the approaching footsteps, nor the panting of the great beast. Larger than two grown men, the canine continued its forward motion, ramming into its prey. Whipping its head from side to side, it continued to growl, jaw clenched tight.

The night air split with a high-pitched scream, sending chills down Wendell’s spine as the robe wailed in pain.

Without looking back he dashed through the orchard and into the village.

Weaving through the last of the trees, Wendell skidded to a halt on a gravel path. Even in the moonlight, he could see it looped in a basic circle among the huts and structures of the village.

Most of the dwellings were dark, no light in their windows.

Wendell hesitated. I’m leading the danger right to their doorsteps.

He needed help.

Hero or not, Wendell could not do this alone.

Not yet.

Have to get everyone’s attention.

“Välo,” he barked aloud, followed by, “Teho!”

Light instantly gathered around him, blazing like a beacon. He held an image of his skin in his mind, glowing like the noonday sun. I hope this doesn’t hurt.

“Teho!” he shouted, again.

This time the light flared from the Ithari, bursting through the black fibers of his shirt.

HSSSST!

A robe, right on his heels, reeled back, a tattered sleeve covering the gaping opening of the hood. The creature flipped about in pain—the sounds of the wolf still fighting behind it.

Wait,…there’s more than one?!! That’s it—these people have to know what’s going on out here!

“HEY!” Wendell bellowed, “WAKE UP! EVERYONE UP! YOUR VILLAGE IS UNDER ATTACK!”

It wasn’t the truth, but he didn’t have time to explain.

“LET ME IN!” he cried, “LET ME INNNN!!”

He didn’t stop running until he’d reached the hovel he’d seen with a light burning in a window. His momentum was so great, Wendell slammed into the front door with a loud bang.

“Who is it?” called a trembling voice from inside.

“My name is Wendell,” he shouted back in gulps, banging on the door with a fist. “Monsters. Out here. Trying to eat me. Help!”

The door remained closed.

“Come ON!” Wendell shouted even louder, “You guys have wolves the size of cars and those….those….oh, let me in! Let me in!” He banged on the door frantically, then reached over and rapped on the window. “Sanctuary! Refuge! Haven! Asylum!” He flipped around and placed his back against the door, the light still blaring from his chest.

No one responded to Wendell’s cries.

Man o man…snake food or doggy treat!

Rapidly knocking on the door, Wendell kept his focus on the robe, willing the light to blaze brighter between them. “PLEASE Mister, let me in!”

“I heard you,” replied the voice warily, “and it is night! No torch burns that bright—which means either you be the problem…or you have magic with you. If you have magic…then it is you who be the problem!”

“What?” Wendell gasped, “Are you serious? I’m trying to…ok, I want to get inside to save my skin, but hey—I’m also warning you! Have some heart—so what if I’m using magic!”

It had never occurred to Wendell that people might not be accepting of magic. He’d assumed that what he’d seen over the past few months was the norm.

Then again, he spent most of his time in the presence of magic using individuals.

Had he been wrong?

Could the use of magic actually be frowned upon or taboo by some?

By…most?

He shook the thought from his mind. It didn’t matter right now. The robe was hovering at the edge of the village path, waiting to attack.

Waiting.

Wendell turned his head slowly, the swaying motions at the edge of the light catching his attention.

Oh boy, he gulped. A second robe hissed loudly at him.

Where did the wolf go?

The light of Ithari dimmed…and the smiley on his shirt silently gulped.

In the gloomy distance, three more shadows converged—the faint hissing echo growing louder with each moment.

NOW THERE ARE FIVE OF THEM??!

Wendell flipped back against the door, and screamed frantically, “Come ON! PLEASE let me in!!”

“Go away!” the voice yelled back, irritated. “Best thing you can do is move along—take your problems with you I say!”

Ithari’s light waned…finally vanishing from under the black cloth of Wendell’s t-shirt.

Please don’t shut me out. Please listen to me. People are going to get hurt.

“Why won’t you listen to me?” he pleaded weakly. “The robes…” but it was no use. His forehead rested against the wood surface of the door.

Please open up…

“That’s why I’m in here and you’re still out there,” the voice chided, “You made your choice, boy.”

Wendell lifted his head. “What…did you say?”

“I said,” repeated the voice cooly, “You made your choice, boy!”

THA-THUMP-THUMP!

Wendell’s feet stumbled back from the door, hands clenching into fists.

That voice…those words…they sounded familiar.

Too familiar.

The door splintered, exploding from its hinges. Fragments flew outward, forcing Wendell to raise his arms to protect his face. A heavy rancid scent of decaying meat and molding rot rolled out from the doorway, assaulting his senses.

It made the world spin and his eyes water.

Slapping a hand over his mouth, Wendell reeled back, gagging.

In the shadows of the doorway, rising up to dwarf the height of the framework, lurked a sixth robe.

Black as midnight, tattered and frayed.

A chorus of howls echoed through the trees.

…and Ithari flared like the noonday sun.

****

“Any change?”

Slender blue fingers rolled over one another like a wild wrestling match until she laced them and clenched her hands tight. “No, High Elder. No change.”

The flow of the High Elders robes could be heard plainly, swishing across the stone floor of the Bedurrim as he walked. That and the crackle of flames overhead. The raw light cast shadows, dancing with their own will across the walls of the circular room.

He sat down next to Elder Nurri in one of the dragon-carved chairs used by each member of the Iskari High Council. Delnar twisted his lean body at an angle to face her and then pulled the hood of his robes back to reveal his freshly shaven head.

“You look troubled, my sister. Can I be of assistance?”

Her gaze never left the fire blazing at the center of the room. It’s hot coals gave the stonework of the floor, a giant lidless eye, unnerving life.

“No,” she said without emotion. She blinked, then added, “But thank you.”

Something had gone wrong. He could see it. Feel it. Nurri was usually forthcoming explanations. This was concerning.

“We can wait no longer, I’m afraid,” he said after a minute in silence. “Time has rarely been on our side and Elder Jiin has been unable to heal our messenger.”

It was then that Nurri looked up.

Surprisingly, Delnar saw a spark of anger in her eyes.

“They tortured him,” she said just above a whisper. She swallowed. “They took him to be one of those filthy abominations from the east and because they believed a lie, they pushed him to the edge of death.”

Reaching out, the High Elder placed a warm, firm hand over Nurri’s still flinching fingers and squeezed. “Word has already been sent to the Omä-es. I have charged Jiin to deliver a personal letter from myself, requesting her presence.”

Tears welled up in her eyes. “You believe Lady Alaria will come?”

“She will not deny him,” Delnar said softly. “A loving mother would never abandon her child. The evolu healers are unequalled in skill and knowledge. Our little friend will yet survive, I am confident of that.”

Shoulders crumpling forward, Nurri let out a shuddering sigh. “But you do not know he will survive, do you? You do not actually know if Dax will survive…”

The words gripped his heart with an unexpected force. The little messenger had been a part of the Iskari community long before Delnar was even born. He’d grown up knowing Dax and had even stood back to back in battle with the evolu.  For all the arguments and all the frustration, Daxänu was…family. The thought of losing him had never entered his mind—until now.

“No,” he breathed out slowly, “I do not know for certain.”

Nurri exhaled heavily, allowing the world to roll from her shoulders. She nodded.

“Your task now, dear sister, is to assist our young Hero.”

Nurri brushed white hair from her face, combing it behind an ear. “There is little I can offer--other than potions to numb his mind.”

“You cannot…”

She cut him off, “I have tried influencing him, merging minds and even walking—but some force prevents me from stepping inside his dreams.”

“Prevents?” The High Elder frowned. Nurri was known within the Council and among her people as the Master of Dreams. Her powers and knowledge over the unconscious realm allowed her to slip into the sleeping minds of others. To enter another’s dreams and weave her influence into the fabric of belief. Once in a mind, Nurri could shape the very essence of a person, both past and present, affecting their future by shifting one’s beliefs.

Not that she could change a persons beliefs altogether—that was beyond any power and went against the Law of Agency. Nurri’s ability could show acceptable shifts in thinking, in perceptions, so those sleeping might choose another way of behaving.

Such a power had never been thwarted, at least that the High Elder knew of.

“Chuck mentioned that this would be the case.”

“He gave you council about the Ithari?”

“Only that she could heal him physically, but mentally would go against Wendell’s agency. Thus the gem holds us at bay as well. Interesting.”

Nurri gave him a weak smile. “Wendell’s connection between himself and the gem is an anomaly. He does not yet have the ability to communicate with her freely, yet there’s already a bond beyond what I have read about in ancient text.”

Delnar nodded. “And…his nightmares?”

As if on cue, her hands trembled, wrestling once more—even under the pressure of the High Elders own hand. “All he would share is that the dreams started when he was traveling to Til-Thorin, then increased when he was tortured by Noah. He’s afraid to sleep…and I cannot stop them from happening.”

Delnar rubbed his own hands together, “How does he cope with them?”

Nurri allowed her hands to begin wrestling once more. “Like anyone plagued with dreams they cannot control—he exhausts himself until he simply cannot fight sleep any longer. Then it takes him.”

Slowly rising to his feet, the High Elder stepped down from the platform where the chairs perched and glided to the center of the circular room. The talk of strange dreams, dying friends…it amplified the chill of the room.

He warmed his hands over the open flames as the light continued dancing about, uninhibited children playing a game of tag along the walls. “What else has he told you?”

“Nothing.” She rose to her feet, shoving her hands into the sleeves of her robe. “It doesn’t take any skill to tell he’s terrified. Wendell is a good young man, and if I find him to be anything, it’s willing and honest. He told me he’s scared. Add to that the rings under his eyes, the shallow breathing. It’s been less than a fortnight since they’ve returned and he looks like he’s aged. He won’t speak to me or anyone else about what happened to him.”

She took a step down the stairs, then paused. “In fact, if Morphiophelius hadn’t mentioned his being tortured, we would not have known about it.”

“But he did mention it,” Delnar replied, rubbing his hands briskly, “which tells me this may be more serious than we realize.” But what could he, or the rest of the Iskari High Council do about it? He couldn’t force the young hero to confide in them. They couldn’t impose their will upon Wendell either. Wendell was already here, fighting a battle that wasn’t his…because of bad choices made by others.

Made by the High Elder.

And that weighed on him.

Wendell had not only accepted the plea of the Council, he’d exceeded their expectations at every turn. A boy with no experience, no training, no connections upon the whole of this world…and yet he had already fought, sacrificed his life for another…and retrieved the last Demoni Vankil seal.

In a word, the ordinary boy from Earth, with virtually no training or magical ability, had turned out to be extraordinary.

“I’m curious,” Nurri slipped up beside the High Elder, though keeping her own hands hidden from the flames. “Has Morphiophelius mentioned anything to you?” She stared at the High Elder, who continued to focus on the warming of his hands. “Perhaps some plans as to what he intends to do next with our young hero?”

“Who knows the ways of a mägo who can see the past, present and future as easily as we converse now? You’re guess is as good as mine, Elder, but I have no doubt we will be partakers of the truth as time rolls on.”

“That is what I am afraid of,” she whispered.

The High Elder chuckled then.

“This is no laughing matter,” she rebuked. “He has that peculiar look in his eyes…as he does when a landslide of mischief is at his heels! We are about to be partakers in that folly. You know the look that I speak of.” She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Now is not the time for taking risks. It is time for strategic planning and using our resources and connections to the greatest advantage.”

Delnar nodded to himself, “You are right, of course. Prudence and calculated action is always wise. Yet I find it comforting that we have rarely experienced our resident ancient to be wrong, don’t you?”

There was a long pause…and then a faint chuckle from Elder Nurri. “There are times I wish there was a manual on how to work with Chuck and Dax.

Delnar grinned then.

“Where would be the fun in that?”