It was obvious to Devrik that there was no way they would be able to alter the course of the massive island-ship, but he didn’t interfere as some of the others focused their energies on various possibilities. He was just relieved to have Raven and Aldari back with him again and safe… although the latter state might be only temporary. In point of fact, he had no desire to change their course. This vessel was taking him exactly where he wanted to go – the source of the threat to his wife and child.

And the source of the danger to the Empire, he supposed. But if he was honest with himself, that theoretical concern for justice took a distant back seat to the threat these people posed to his family. If stopping them proved beneficial to the world at large, well and good… but what actually drove him was a hot rage that his loved ones had been placed in jeopardy — again. He fully intended that those responsible would come to see that as a terrible mistake… before paying for that mistake with their lives.

Korwin had suggested that perhaps they had already defeated the architects of this mechanistic horror show, with the destruction of the two clockwork overseers. But as poor Captain Rünalt had pointed out, someone had to have created those two to begin with. However much autonomy those constructs had appeared to possess, they certainly hadn’t created themselves.

As he stared down at the still-smoking form of the four-armed wizard automaton, Devrik had a nagging feeling that he was missing something. Eavesdropping on the creatures’ conversation, during the brief interlude before the fight, he had felt an odd sense of familiarity with the wizard, as if he should know who it was. But that seemed impossible… unless, maybe, he had known the man whose mind had been used (stolen?) to animate the thing? Just as Captain Rünalt’s had been taken to power the form he now wore…

Certainly Devrik had had no such feeling on hearing the much larger clockwork “commander” speak, no sense of familiarity there. Only an aura of immense arrogance had come through the thing’s cold, mechanical voice. Devrik glanced over to where Toran’s battle axe was still firmly embedded in the sparking, twisted wreckage of that massive metal chest, a thin spiral of smoke rising up to dissipate in the cool, damp air. Not so arrogant now, he thought with a grim chuckle.

“What’s so funny, Papa?” Aldari asked, momentarily distracted from his fascination with the undersea vista visible through the forward windows.

“Oh, just thinking about how very much our enemies are going to regret their actions, son… and how very soon,” Devrik said, clapping his boy on the shoulder. Aldari grinned in return and nodded enthusiastically.

“That’s right, now they’ve got the Hand of Fortune on to them, and we always win!” Fortunately the boy didn’t catch the glare directed at his father that his comment elicited from his mother; but Devrik had no trouble interpreting the meaning of it, and just shrugged in amused agreement. Really, it was hardly his fault if the lad thought of himself as part of the Hand, after all.

In the end his friends reached the same conclusion Devrik had already arrived at – they were going to this mysterious island base, this Teshunir (tesh-oo-NEER) will-or-nil, and they had best make use of their time to prepare for whatever they might face there. Easier said than done, of course, with so little information to work from. They could see little outside the great crystal windows of the control room, aside from the dark waters of the ocean through which they traveled. They needed some sort of reconnaissance to plan properly.

“Now that we no longer have to worry about alarms and such,” Toran suggested, finally pulling his axe from the clockwork corpse with a shriek of tortured metal, “why don’t we open that cursed hatch and see what is topside?” Putting action to his words, he strode over and gave the metal wheel in the center of the door several strong twists. There was a sudden hiss, and the bronze and brass portal swung open.

“I know we’re assuming this leads up to the surface of this artificial island,” Mariala said somewhat diffidently. “But if so, shouldn’t we be worried about all those clockwork animals that attacked us the last time we tried to explore it?”

“I don’t think that’s something you need to worry about, m’lady,” Captain Rünalt offered, his cold, mechanical monotone in some ways more disturbing than Devrik’s grating voice. “I have… I don’t know how to describe it… there are lists, of a sort, in my head… or maybe they’re more like structures… it’s very hard to describe. But the point is, they tell me about things around me, and tell me how to control some of those things. I have nothing about the control of this strange vessel, but I do know other things… the guard routines, the controls for cells and lights and such… and the signals to control the mechanical animals that patrol the surface. Or at least cause them to ignore anyone that I tell them is off limits.”

With that assurance, the Hand ascended the long ladder beyond the hatch. It led to a steeply slanting corridor and, eventually, to another hatch, this one overhead. Erol, being the tallest amongst them, had to open it, a feat he managed with minimal trouble. Captain Rünalt insisted on being the first through, however, should any of the island’s guardians prove to be awaiting them.

None were, however, and the party found themselves once again on the constructed island façade which covered the top of the gigantic whale-ship, it’s artificial rocks and trees giving an almost, but not quite, perfect simulation of the real thing. They stood on a rocky bluff not far from the geyser-like “blowhole” which shot steam 50 meters up into the air at regular intervals. With none of the artificial vegetation blocking the view forward, they could see clear to the horizon as the great vessel plowed through the ocean towards its home base.

“From what those two were saying, I thought we were close to our destination,” Erol said, scanning the horizon for any sign of an island. “But I don’t see even a cloud bank… we must be some ways off yet.”

Before anyone could answer, there was a strange rippling in the air in front of the island-ship – and the leading edge of the vessel seemed to waver and vanish. The eerie rippling effect seemed to eat everything in its path, sweeping toward the gathered adventurers so quickly that they had time to do little more than turn toward the open hatch, ten meters away. Before they’d made more than a meter the ripple passed over them – and suddenly they could see the entire ship once more. They could also see the jagged peaks of a volcanic island directly ahead of them… less than two kilometers away, Korwin estimated.

“Ah,” laughed Mariala in sudden understanding. “Some sort of concealing shield must lay around this place, a great shroud of invisibility. Which explains why the Imperial Navy hasn’t been able to find these people yet.”

“By Tyvos!” Korwin exclaimed. “What power such a spell must require! If they’re capable of shielding an entire island like this, though, why didn’t they do the same for this ridiculous whale-island-ship of theirs? Why go to all the trouble of disguising it as an island?”

“A good question,” Devrik agreed. “Perhaps we’ll have the chance to ask them about it directly… before we kill them all. Vulk, can you send Cherdon aloft to scout out the island for us before we arrive? I’d really like to have some idea of the lay of the land before we’re forced into action on it.”

“I was just thinking the same thing,” Vulk agreed, and he threw up the arm upon which his familiar rested, casting the falcon to the skies. As he slipped almost effortlessly into the trance which allowed him to see through the bird’s eyes, Toran led him to a nearby boulder, helping him into a comfortable sitting position. It took the familiar several minutes for the bird to cover the distance, even as the great whale-ship drew closer to the island, and the others waited in tense silence. While the adults anxiously anticipated the report, Aldari stared at Uncle Vulk in fascination… he wondered if he might somehow contrive to acquire a familiar… Brann II was great and all, but a pet just wasn’t the same as a creature you could almost become…

“I see… it looks like a large sea-cave carved into the shield-wall directly ahead…” Vulk spoke in the distracted, almost dreamy cadences he slipped into during his vision-sharing trances. “Ah, the island is definitely volcanic… I see the circle of a great caldera… high cliffs all around a central plain… a lagoon… no, two lagoons, one near the caldera wall close to the cave… maybe the cave is a tunnel through the shield wall? The second lagoon is larger… a great crescent around the far inner plain… but… by Kasira!” Vulk’s voice took on a more urgent tone.

“There are a few small buildings… crude stone structures, the largest no bigger than a small manor house, I think… but on the central plain… there must be thousands of them! Clockwork soldiers, rank upon rank of them… all perfectly motionless, as if in formation drill… as if awaiting orders… they all face inward, toward the center of the island… where a great circle of metal and… I think crystal… is embedded in the ground…”

Vulk answered his friends’ questions as best he could – no, he saw no sign of non-mechanical life… no, none of the clockwork soldiers had yet moved… his best guess? There were at least 5,000 of the soldiers, and perhaps 500 clockwork animals as well… no, Aldari, there didn’t seem to be any clockwork children… Eventually the cantor released his grip on Cherdon’s senses and let the bird take a perch on the crest of the shield wall overlooking the great sea cave.

It was decided that they were already in the best position to observe and take advantage of whatever opportunities might come their way when the island-ship docked. Vulk had assured them that the cave opening could not accommodate the entire vessel, and Captain Rünalt was sure the process of unloading was carried out entirely by rote instructions… instructions he could sense but by which he was not bound, for whatever reason. It was entirely possible that the absence of the wizard and commander might not be immediately noticed, although it was unlikely that such a state of affairs could last for long. If they didn’t report, eventually someone must come looking for them.

The leading edge of the island-ship proved to fit very snugly, almost like a puzzle-piece, into the wide, arched opening of the sea cave. Two great sections of the faux-topography, complete with trees and rocks, cantilevered up as two wide metal catwalks extruded from the darkness of the cave to fit perfectly into the openings. Within minutes, ranks of clockwork men began marching out of the guts of the great ship, each carrying massive loads of material plundered from the many captured ships. Including Captain Rünalt’s ship… even in his mechanical form Mariala could sense the man’s terrible anguish as he watched, knowing that some of those clockwork slaves were his own sailors and passengers, as horribly changed as he, but lacking his miraculous possession of free will.

It became clear after a time that the unloading of the great vessel would take awhile. Some of the plundered loot vanished down side tunnels, while some was loaded onto a series of barges within the cavern and then moved on to the inner lagoon, where it was unloaded once more. It was also clear that the absence of the two masters of the vessel was raising no immediate alarm. Vulk was preparing to send his familiar in closer, perhaps even into the cavern itself, when Korwin stopped him.

“Listen, what do you hear?” he asked suddenly, laying a restraining hand on Vulk’s shoulder. Everyone had been as silent as possible since the docking of the island ship, but it was only now that the unnatural quality of the silence around them fully caught their attention. Aside from the sound of waves on rock, the wind, and the clanking of metal feet on metal catwalks, there was no other sound – most especially, none of the perpetual cacophony of seabirds that should be natural to this setting.

“Right, no bird sounds,” Korwin went on as he saw the light dawn on his friends’ faces. “And does anyone see any sign of life, anywhere? Cliffs like these should be swarming with the nests of many species of sea birds, the skies should be full of their wheeling and turning and diving for fish… and I don’t see even a scrub bush anywhere.”

It was true that, aside from a grayish-green lichen or moss, there seemed to be no more plant life than there was bird life – and although his attention had been rather diverted by the clockwork army, Vulk agreed that he’d seen no sign of plant or animal life in the island’s interior, either.

“Something does seem to have made a trail, however,” Toran observed, pointing toward a faint, narrow track that began near the tideline on the right side of the cave entrance. It wound up the steep face of the encircling wall, vanishing behind outcroppings every now and again before reappearing higher up. “As fascinated as I am to explore that sea cavern, and all the passages that appear to branch off from it, perhaps we would be better off infiltrating our enemy’s lair this way?”

After some debate, it was agreed that the outer path was the better option, not least because it would, eventually, give them the high ground and an opportunity for everyone to see for themselves the lay of the inner island. With Mariala’s Wall Flower spell cast over them all, the group made their way off the island-ship and onto the true ground of the ancient island of Teshunir…

The climb up the winding, narrow, crumbling path proved to be far more arduous than anyone, except perhaps Toran, had anticipated. In some places it was indeed more of a climb than a walk, and it was at one of these points, more than halfway up the 100 meter high volcanic ringwall, that disaster nearly overtook them.

Toran was in the lead, his expertise at finding and avoiding the weakest parts of the clearly ancient path making him the obvious trailblazer. Korwin was following close behind, and it was his foot that slipped on a crumbling bit of stone which the Khundari had bypassed. With a startled cry he reeled backwards, arms windmilling as he managed to snag Toran’s boot, pulling the Dwarf off balance as well. Devrik, immediately behind Korwin, was struck by the water mage’s other flailing arm – a glancing, harmless blow in itself, but enough to upset his own precarious balance and begin a chain reaction.

Devrik slid into Aldari, knocking the boy ass-over-tea-kettle, and only Raven’s quick reflexes saved their son from going over the edge. Unfortunately, as she yanked her son back, she overbalanced herself and staggered into Vulk. This sent the cantor wheeling backward in a spray of gravel and dust. His staff, flailing out as he tried to stop his slide, caught Mariala behind one knee even as she tried to leap aside, sending her crashing instead into Erol, who was bringing up the rear beside the Clockwork Captain.

Although momentarily staggered, Erol’s Telnori strength and reflexes allowed him to not only brace himself, stopping his own backward tumble, but also to grab Mariala and Vulk, bringing their own sliding falls to a halt. Above them, Toran’s own ninja-like reflexes clamped one hand onto a secure rock outcrop, and he instinctively invoked the Joining of Merkünon. Instantly his hand and feet became fused to the rock of the mountain, stopping his slide. The magic flowed through his other hand, which gripped Korwin’s arm, immediately locking the water mage into place; in turn, Korwin’s desperate grab caught Devrik’s cloak, sending the Tykizu energies through him as well, to arrest the fire mage’s precarious teetering on the brink. For a moment the world seemed to hold its breath, the only sound the clatter of stones bouncing down the cliffside…

A short time later the Hand resumed their climb, more cautiously, more subdued… and considerably more slowly.

Eventually, they reached the crest of the caldera wall, a little bruised and somewhat shaken, but alive and essentially uninjured. The view was much as Vulk had described it through Cherdon’s eyes – the handful of crude stone buildings, the innumerable ranks of clockwork soldiers and animals, and nothing moving beyond a wisp of smoke rising from an open forge near the largest of the buildings. The stillness and utter silence were eerie, and more than a little unnerving Vulk thought, shivering.

As they quietly debated their next course of action, a bored Aldari peered avidly down at the tableau below. He knew his parents were unhappy that he was with them and in constant danger, but the fact was, he himself couldn’t have been happier. This was what he had wanted, ever since they had left the cabin in the woods where he’d grown up and returned to the so-called “real world.” To be a part of his parents’ tales of adventure and excitement, to fight bad guys and save princesses, and–

His somewhat fevered daydreams were interrupted by a movement down by the small lagoon that connected with the sea cave. With a startled gasp he tugged hard on his father’s sleeve and pointed. The strange, undead, spider-legged clockwork monster which had abducted him and his mother aboard the Wind was now scittering off a barge and up the small dock toward the shore. At Devrik’s growl the others all craned forward to see, and Vulk gripped his Holy Baton tightly, paling a little. Why did it have to be the undead? he thought bleakly.

As the Hand warily watched the mechanized undead horror, secure in their hidden redoubt, it scittered from the dock up to the largest stone building nearby, and vanished within. They observed the structure intently for several more minutes, but the creature did not reappear, nor did any of the other, more mundane, clockwork constructs follow it inside. Instead, as they finished their unloading work, the mechanical soldier/slaves joined the motionless ranks of the existing army, forming several new files of unmoving figures.

A furious, whispered debate later, the Hand began moving cautiously down the trail on the inner side of the caldera wall. Although even steeper than the outer trail, this one seemed to be in better shape, less weathered and not so prone to crumbling. Taking care to stay out of sight from below as much as possible (although the clockwork men gave no indication of awareness once they joined the frozen ranks of their brethren), the party made their way down to the edge of the central plain of the island.

Once on relatively level terrain the Hand had Captain Rünalt lead the way, as if escorting prisoners. The subterfuge appeared to be unnecessary, however. Even passing within a few meters of the rearmost ranks of the amassed soldiers elicited no response at all. In some sort of sleep mode, supposed Toran, although he wasn’t inclined to test that theory by speaking aloud in their presence. At the stone building they found that there was no actual door, merely a wide, tall arch in the stone wall that opened into a single large, dimly lit interior room.

Entering cautiously, the Hand saw a great fireplace on the wall to their left, the hearth cold, with no sign that any fire had been lit there for a very long time. No windows pierced any of the other walls, and to the right, a wide, steep staircase of dressed stone led downward into darkness. No sign of the spider-like Zamora could be seen, and it was obvious that the only way forward was down, into the darkness…

The wide, high-ceilinged passage proved not to be so dark as all that – some ten meters in and down, faint reddish glow stones appeared near the ceiling, giving enough ruddy light to see by, once Umantari eyes adjusted. To Erol and Toran, of course, the light was as adequate as that from a bright torch. At 20 meters the stairs ended in a wide, tall corridor, itself some 20 meters long. A second set of stairs then descended, less steeply and not as long, to another length of corridor, which ended in a very tall, very wide archway.

Stepping though the arch, the group found themselves in a very different environment. Whereas the structure until now had been made of ordinary dressed stone, if somewhat cyclopean in size, the space wherein they now stood was… strange. The material of walls, floor and ceiling was a peculiar greenish-gray, almost black, stone-like material. But it was not cut from blocks, dressed and fitted together, but seemed rather to be of one, solid piece, as if the structure were carved from living stone… a stone that not even Toran recognized.

His first thought was Torlixam, the almost impervious pseudo-stone of the Ancients. But this material had an oily sheen to it, as if it were wet. Torlixam, on the other hand, he knew to be bone-white, with a hard, matte finish, and always fairly cool to the touch, no matter how warm the surrounding environment. When he laid a strangely reluctant hand on a dark wall, while it felt dry and matte, it was also ever-so-slightly giving… and disturbingly warm. With a brief wave of nausea, Toran had the sudden idea that the material seemed almost alive… which was absurd! Nonetheless, he removed his hand very quickly, wiping his palm on his sleeve.

An eerie, gray-green light seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once, illuminating the stairs which spiraled down to their left with a luminance brighter than the glow stones, but still cold and oddly unsatisfying to the eye. The scale of this new architecture was even grander than that above, as if made for giants… or gods… and the indefinable sense of tremendous age was almost overwhelming. With a shrug, everyone silently acknowledged the need to press on… as well as everyone’s complete lack of real desire to do so, except perhaps for Devrik. And Aldari — the boy seemed entirely oblivious to the oppressive weight of eons, focused entirely as he was on the grand adventure of it all.

As a precaution Mariala renewed her Wall Flower spell, and they moved as quietly as possible, winding down the wide stairs in double combat formation, with Toran and Erol in the lead, Devrik and Mariala close behind, Raven and Aldari in the middle, and Vulk and Korwin bringing up the rear with the Clockwork Captain. Strange, inexplicable machines and engines occasionally appeared, either extruding from the walls or set into great alcoves.

“The look like giant metal ducks,” Aldari observed, evoking a shushing from his mother and a brief laugh from Vulk.

After a time, Toran broke the almost hermetic silence with a whispered observation. “By my calculations, we must now be almost directly below that great metal and crystal disc we saw set in the center of the island. “

At the center of this level they found a great pit going down into darkness and, as Toran had predicted, up to the underside of the immense disc far above them; a great, deep thrumming sound emanated from below, and a faint green glow in the darkness. The only egress seemed to be more spiraling stairs along the outer wall, and perforce they continued downward.

The next level had a great engine of utterly alien design at its heart. The power coming off it was palpable, and set every T’aran sensitive amongst them on edge. While the others explored the walls and crannies of the strange room, Mariala and Toran both tried to determine if the markings, observable in several areas, were a language.

“Aaarrrgh!” Mariala cried after moment, clutching her head and wincing in obvious pain. “I don’t know what they are, but if they represent some language, it’s not remotely an Umantari one. Dear Shala, the psychic backlash…”

“Nor any Khundari language,” Toran agreed, rubbing his own temples and grimacing. “And I’d wager not any language of Telnori or Immortal, either.”

Korwin declined to try his psychometry on the ancient machine.

To the north the alien wall had been breached, and a passage of actual Torlixam led away from the central shaft. While obviously old, it was still much, much younger than the surrounding shaft, Toran was certain. “By an order of magnitude, at least,” he muttered as they passed into the new section.

Unlike what had come before, the newer area consisted of rooms on a more human scale and of more conventional design… they soon recognized several examples of Co-Dominion technology. “Similar to what we’ve seen before,” Mariala noted, ”and yet not identical. The style is unmistakable, though, even if the functions remain inscrutable…”

Moving cautiously through the various chambers, they eventually found a room full of strange coffin-like beds, similar to the one once used to keep the doomed Earl of Ukonis in stasis. Similar, like the other technology they’d seen, but not quite the same. “Like tools made by different smiths,” Toran suggested.

Vulk cautiously cracked the next door, which opened onto a wide catwalk arcing around to his left and overlooking a large circular chamber. Twelve of the strange stasis-pods, upright, lined the walls, and those he could see were occupied by immobile bodies. Thick translucent cables connected the pods to a strange apparatus of pipes and beams in the center of the room. Four glowing spheres lay at the heart of the apparatus, about on level with the catwalk, while thicker conduits of the same translucent material rose up to vanish into the shadowy ceiling above.

But what was more immediately arresting, and stopped Vulk in his tracks, was the sight of the two most majestic and beautiful clockwork beings he’d yet laid eyes on. One was in the form of a stunning woman in silver and gold, the plates of her metallic form beautifully engraved and inlaid with bright enamel. Standing almost two meters tall, a glowing red crystal shone in the center of her steel breast, and her eyes pulsed with an actinic blue-white light. Somehow, despite her mechanical form, Vulk thought her body language radiated impatience.

Next to her was an even more impressive and much larger figure, well over two meters tall. It was the most elaborately gorgeous, even regal, clockwork construct of all. It… he, beyond doubt… was encased in massive, intricately filigreed armor that appeared to be gold (but which Toran, who had come up next to Vulk, was quite certain must be something much stronger) and a large golden diadem orbited his head, held in place by some unseen force.

Like his female companion, his mechanical features were far more expressive than any the Hand had yet seen, and both the deep satisfaction and cold cruelty of his gaze were clear as he stared down at the still form of the Myrmitron of the Ocean Empire. Lord Kavyn was encased in a horizontal stasis pod, another of the translucent cables running from it to the central core. The look of satisfaction on that metal face quickly gave way to something more like annoyance, however, as he turned to address his companion.

“I fail to see why we should move up our timetable, Lucinda Var… the discovery of our disguised ship-killer is a mere inconvenience at this point; one made even less of a problem by our opportune capture of Lord Kavyn.” Unlike every other construct the Hand had so far encountered, his voice was deep, resonate, and very human-like. “There’s now no chance of him learning of our plans untimely, nor of him marshaling Imperial forces to oppose them. But we still need at least another thousand soldiers to be sure of overwhelming force in every theater of our planned offensive.”

Lucinda Var shook her head in obvious exasperation. Why does she seem so familiar? Vulk wondered… something about her voice? It was as human-sounding as her companion’s, and obviously female, as if her form wasn’t clue enough…

“We need to move quickly, my Prince,” she was saying, “I sense the touch of those meddling interlopers, the so-called Hand of Fortune, in this! You would do well to heed my advice and not underestimate them! Do not give the little bastards the slightest opportunity to unravel my – our – plans when we are so close to success.

“In any case, you are too cautious, Quorün – the troops we have are more than sufficient to our needs, so long as we retain the element of surprise. But having been forced to move on Kavyn Stormborn, we must now advance the entire timetable. I assure you, the Myrmitron’s disappearance will spark a response in many quarters… and not just in the mortal kingdoms. Should certain of the Immortals learn of it…”

The clockwork Prince Quorün looked surprised and shot his fellow conspirator a worried glare. “You assured me that we were free from the interference of any of the Immortals, here on this hidden island of yours! Do you now say they might yet be a threat to us? You swore this shield was impenetrable!”

“And so it is,” Lucinda Var waved an elegant hand, as if swatting away an irritating fly, “as long as none suspect its existence. The shield has kept this place hidden, even from prying Immortal eyes, for more than four millennia. And I have taken care to follow the Strictures to the letter – there is no chance of our plans unleashing a new T’aran War, which is really all the Immortals care about, at this point.

“Once our blitzkrieg has overwhelmed the opposition and you are on the Coral Throne, it will be a fait accompli, and no direct war magics will have been used. In the end, my mechanical men are no different than the various support magics which the Strictures do allow, and the Immortals do not concern themselves with mere political shifts in mortal power. Trust me, my Prince… have I yet led you astray?”

Prince Quorün shrugged acquiescence, seeming somewhat mollified at her words. His voice remained a bit peevish, however, as he gestured at the pods lining the wall. “Well, I admit your plan to defang the insufferable busy-bodies of the thrice-cursed Star Council has proven almost flawless. Has there been any word yet from the last of your undead minions, from Servia?”

“No,” the sorceress admitted. “We must assume that the attempt to capture the Telnori King has failed. But I had already accounted for that likelihood – he is now the head of a Council with no body, and so is of little immediate threat to our plans. There will be time enough to deal with him once our power in the Empire is secured. But only if we move now, no further delay – if we give him time to think and to plan, I can’t guarantee – what the Void!”

Lucinda Var turned to stare up at Vulk, who had crept out onto the wide catwalk in the hopes of getting a better look at who else was trapped in those stasis pods which were beneath the catwalk. Even as he’d stepped out onto the metal grating, however, he’d had a sinking feeling… the subtle, almost subliminal pressure he always felt when Mariala’s Wall Flower spell was in effect, as if the air around him was ever so slightly compressed, had popped like a soap bubble as soon as he passed through the doorway.

With a curse he ducked down and ran along the catwalk. He had spotted an alcove halfway around the room, just at the head of the stairs that lead down to the lower level and the two clockwork villains. A large console filled the space, and if his time on ancient Earth had taught him anything, it was that consoles were used to control the thing they called “technology.” He was pretty sure that it was technology which was at work here…

As soon as it became clear that the jig was up and they were detected, Toran hurled a blast of Stavin’s Arrows through the doorway, aimed at the head of the female automaton, whom he assumed was the mage behind all this madness. If he could take her out, the big bruiser was just— he stared in amazement as the shimmering force of his spell dissipated just inches from his hand, wafting away like the memory of summer in mid-winter.

Before he could quite get his mind around what was going on, young Aldari had darted past him and out onto the catwalk. With a high pitched yell he hurled his small spear down at the Golden Prince… who snatched it out of the air one-hand, snapping it in two with a snarl. Toran faded into the shadows at the back of the catwalk with a muttered suggestion to Raven, as she darted out to grab her son and pull him back into the room, that she put a leash on the kid!

Moving stealthily around the catwalk, Toran felt the heavy, shimmering energies of B’Harik’s Cloak, the protection spell he had cast on himself moments earlier, being snuffed out in an instant. With a sinking feeling, he tried to focus the Bladesharp spell on his battle axe, but there was nothing… curse it, an anti-magic field must fill this space!

As his mother yanked Aldari back to relative safety, Erol pushed past them and attempted to cast Burning Shaft, only to find… nothing as well. He could not sense the T’ara at all. Even if he could have summoned up a Form, he was apparently cut off from any Principle with which to fill it. He realized at almost the same instant ads Toran that the area must be filled with an anti-magic field, and a powerful one.

Erol spoke quietly but urgently into his comm unit, telling the others of his suspicion, for which Toran was grateful as it allowed him to maintain his stealth. An anti-magic field was not good, Erol thought as he leapt over the railing, but on the other hand it also meant that neither of their opponents could wield any of their own arcane powers either. If it came down to a merely physical fight, they outnumbered them three-to-one – more if you counted the current auxiliaries… he stabbed his trident at Lucinda Var, who nimbly dodged the blow.

From the magic-rich environment of the room they were currently in, both Mariala and Korwin attempted to launch attacks into the magic-dampened area beyond the wide doorway. Mariala’s Mental Bolt, being psionic in nature and partaking not at all from the power of the T’aran field, was unimpeded by the deadening aura. Unfortunately, Lucinda Var had apparently shielded her metal form well, and was obviously a strong psychic herself – the bolt blasted back at Mariala, nearly knocking her off her feet.

Korwin, who had been working for days on a possible spell to summon the power of the lightning, attempted an instant casting of his prototype, hoping the physical manifestation of the electricity itself, although summoned by magic, would be unaffected by the field. Unfortunately, his Form failed rather spectacularly, and he was forced to abort before summoning the Principle. Damn, he might have to use the final charge from the jorums with which Lord Kavyn had gifted him after all…

Devrik, thinking along similar lines about fire and its physical application, summoned Goraten’s Brand – with a woosh of superheated air his holy sword burst into brilliant flames. But before he could leap onto the catwalk and then to the floor below, the brass and bronze arm of Captain Rünalt shoved him aside. The Clockwork Captain, seeing the architects of his ruin, his very murderers, could hold back no more. He crashed down to the floor below, making a three-point landing directly in front of the Clockwork Prince, bringing his glaive up in a blinding strike.

The move was almost too fast for even a temporally-sped-up Erol to see – and yet it was blocked by an equally swift turn of a royal arm. Roaring, the Prince pulled a tremendous sword from his back and swung a savage one-handed blow at Rünalt, who barely managed to block it on the haft of his glaive.

Devrik used the Clockwork Captain’s distraction to race out and along the catwalk towards the stairs, joining Erol in engaging Lucinda Var — and cursed in frustration as his ethereal flames flickered and died along the length of his blade… as he’d feared, summoned by magic but also sustained by magic. Oh well, he’d just have to do this the old-fashioned way… he vaulted over the railing to land in a crouch beside Erol.

As he and Raven watched Devrik leap into the fray, Aldari managed to slip his mother’s distracted grip, darting out after his father. With a shout of frustration the harried Raven pulled her sling and several stones from the pouch at her belt and charged after her willful son. Well, it wasn’t like she wanted her son to be a coward, of course… but was a little common sense too much to ask for? She gave a silent apology to her own parents, for all the gray hairs she’d no doubt given them in her own childhood adventures…

Just as Toran was reaching the set of double doors halfway along the catwalk, his stealthy Shadow Knight skills keeping him essentially invisible to their enemies, Aldari sped passed him… apparently as blind to his Uncle Toran’s presence as their enemies were. The Khundari gave an exasperated, but silent, snarl and reached out to grab the kid before he could get himself killed…

Aldari had seen his father and Uncle Erol engaged with the mechanical sorceress, trading powerful blows but not seeming to make much headway. His parents, particularly Mama, were always going on about strategy and smart thinking, and it occurred to him that if he could come up from behind the lady robot, maybe that would give them a… what do you call it…? Oh yeah, a “decisive tactical advantage.” There was a doorway behind her down there… maybe these doors up here would lead him to her, and a surprise attack form behind! He skidded to a stop and shoved on the heavy metal doors, which swung open with surprising ease – to reveal two of the large undead spider-zombies in their glittering crystal encasements looming over him!

Aldari whipped his dagger from his belt and went into a fighting crouch — as if on instinct, Toran noted, with distant approval. But that approval was overwhelmed by fear, because the kid didn’t stand a chance against one of those things, much less two… and there was no guarantee that this time they’d be trying to take him alive. Toran’s great battle axe, Egrokon, came down with an almost musical note on the clear casing of the nearest monster, cracking the crystal and momentarily staggering the undead pilot…but no more.

Aldari was shocked to see Uncle Toran appearing from the shadows beside him like a ghost, but seized the opportunity of his surprise attack to dart in and land a blow of his own to a joint on the other creatures forward leg. He knew his dagger wasn’t likely to take out one of these things, but if he could just cripple it, that might be enough… he attempted to summon Goraten’s Brand, surely the flame damage would help… but there was nothing… not having one of the Areth-made communication bugs, he was unaware of the anti-magic field within which he now moved…

On the floor below, Lucinda Var laughed as she almost effortlessly blocked blow after blow from both Erol and Devrik. As they pressed her, she whirled as she redirected their latest attacks and slammed a metallic fist down on a panel behind her. With a thrum of sudden power, the spheres in the structure at the center of the room began to glow, and Devrik saw a greenish energy engulf the unconscious form of Lord Kavyn. As the hum of power increased, energy began flowing along the cable from the Myrmitron’s pod into the central core.

“I should have known you children would find a way to interfere,” the Clockwork Mage growled. “But soon enough you’ll be outnumbered by my Star Council puppets!” She smiled as she watched the energy flow from Lord Kavyn, into the core, and then vanish up the pipes in the ceiling.

Devrik realized that similar flows of energy were moving from the other nine forms trapped in stasis pods around the room, also vanishing up the central pipes into the shadows above them. In a sudden flash of insight, he realized that this must be the process by which these villains drained the minds or souls of their victims into their mechanical constructs, creating their clockwork army — and that they planned to do the same to the Star Council!

But the thought was driven from his mind almost as quickly as it came as his eye, following the flow of energy, saw his wife and son on the catwalk above him, being threatened by two of those crystal-encased undead monsters. Erol, following his gaze, yelled “Go! I’ll handle her!”

Devrik didn’t waste an instant, and was racing for the stairs even as Erol drove a wicked thrust at Lucinda Var, forcing her away from the control panel… too late to stop the process, unfortunately.

Vulk had been desperately studying the strange console in the nearby alcove, and had been able to make neither head nor tails of it. The labels were in what he recognized as the ancestral alphabet of his own Alfaic script, but thousands of years of usage and evolution had rendered the two mutually unintelligible. As the battle raged below him he finally decided he’d better just take action – what was the worst that could happen? And at best he might bring down the anti-magic field or at least awaken the Star Council… Kasira knew that would be helpful! It was about time their mysterious bosses pulled their own weight!

He began pushing buttons, but as Devrik barreled past him, face twisted into a snarl of fear and rage, he spun to follow his friend’s rush — and realized he was needed elsewhere. Two undead creatures threatened Raven, Aldari, and Toran, and even Devrik might not be enough. Vulk and his blessed Holy Baton, however, could literally turn the tide… pushing down the cold dread in the pit of his stomach, he pulled his Baton from his belt and ran after Devrik…

Meanwhile, the Clockwork battle between Captain Renaült and Prince Quorün continued in a blinding flurry of blows, the sound of metal on metal almost deafening in the chamber. Both were dented and scraped, but neither could seem to quite take the upper hand, although the Captain was being driven steadily back. As they moved away from the pod containing Lord Kavyn, Mariala saw her chance, and dropped down from the catwalk to land on the far side from the combatants… and felt her ankle twist beneath her as she landed, poorly.

Her involuntary cry of pain drew the attention of the Clockwork Prince, who realized the threat she posed. He turned to reach for her across the stasis pod, but the Captain was on him in an instant, wrapping an arm around the Prince’s neck and grappling his sword arm. At the same moment Korwin swung down from the catwalk next to Mariala, helping her to her feet. Her arm over his shoulder, he got her to the stasis pods controls, where she feverishly began trying to stop the draining process…

Realizing that even if she succeeded with Lord Kavyn, there were nine other mages being drained. They’d never save them all, not one at a time. With gritted teeth, Korwin fished one of the electrical jorums which the Lord Myrmitron had gifted him from his belt pouch and, muttering an incantation, he unleashed the full power stored within. An immense, eye-searing bolt of blue-white lightning erupted from his clenched fist, striking the heart of the columnar structure at the center of the room. The four glowing spheres didn’t so much explode as simply vaporize, and when his vision cleared all that remained were twisted, smoking metal pipes and bracings at floor and ceiling.

With a howl of rage, the Clockwork Prince Quorün flung the Captain from him into the wreckage and, despite the loss of his sword, he bore down on Korwin like a golden tidal wave. Eyes going wide at the wall of furious metal rushing at him, Korwin nevertheless felt strangely calm. He could sense the residue of the electrical energy from the jorum still within his body… as the Prince grabbed him, lifting Korwin up to crush him to his chest, the water mage laid his palms on that vast expanse of cold metal and released the last of the lightning within him.

While not as powerful as the bolt that had destroyed the room’s machinery, Korwin’s second bolt nevertheless blew clean through the Clockwork Prince’s chest, and out his back… leaving a jagged, smoking hole where his artificial brain had been. His metallic face locked in a final expression of surprise and disbelieve, the glow in Prince Quorün’s eyes faded out and his tall, once-powerful body toppled backward to crash to the floor, inert. Korwin kicked free as it fell and landed in a crouch at the former Prince’s feet.

On the catwalk above Toran, Raven, Devrik and Vulk stared down in surprise, and Aldari let out an enthusiastic cheer. Devrik, one hand clasped over a deep cut in his left bicep, nodded down at Korwin in impressed approval. In the room behind them, the clockwork zombies struggled feebly in the mass of webs within which Vulk had imprisoned them, after having driven them back with his holy symbol of office. Below, Erol and Lucinda Var also paused in their battle to stare in equal surprise at the fallen Prince.

“You— you—“ the Clockwork Woman seemed choked with sudden rage. “Once again, you somehow manage to bring my plans crashing down around me! Well this is the last time, you meddling fools, the very last time!” She whirled and darted out the door behind her, ignoring Erol’s parting trident thrust, which skittered along her flank. She couldn’t ignore Toran’s axe quite so easily, however — his masterful throw embedded it in her neck as she staggered out of the door. Pausing in the hallway beyond, with a shriek of tortured metal she wrenched the weapon from her body, throwing it to the floor while she slammed her other hand down on the door’s control. But even as the door slid shut, Aldari’s throwing knife flew through the narrowing opening to embedded itself in her right knee…

Erol immediately tried to force open the door, but it was viciously hot to the touch, and he snatched his hands back with a yelp. “Curse it, I think she’s melted the thing shut,” he grumbled, sucking on scorched fingers.

“Still, I suppose we’d better find a way to follow,” Vulk said wearily, as the rest of the Hand descended the stairs to join the others. “Kasira knows what she might get up to, even yet.”

“Of course you have to follow her!” a querulous voice said from the other side of the room. They all turned to see Master Vetaris, grey-faced, weak and obviously shaken, leaning against the stasis pod from which he’d just been freed. Once Mariala had managed to get Lord Kavyn out of his own stasis tube, and despite his own debilitated condition, the two had begun freeing the rest of the Star Council, starting with Mariala’s old mentor.

“Don’t you realize who this “Lucinda Var” is?” he continued, trying to straighten up, but almost collapsing until Korwin got an arm under his elbow. “She’s my mother, Alvira… the architect of all our troubles for so long. She must not be allowed to escape again! Hand of Fortune, I feel it in my bones… this is the moment the prophecies speak of… the fate of our world hangs in the balance, and only you can stave off doom.”

“Or cause it,” one of the other freed Councilor’s muttered darkly.

“He’s right,” Lord Kavyn called, ignoring that last comment. He was helping an exotic looking woman with golden skin and almond-shaped eyes from a stasis pod, but his voice was shockingly shaky and weak. “None of us are in any condition to confront her… a group of school girls would be beyond us just now, I’m sure… It’s up to you… you must go after her and stop whatever her failsafe plan might be…”

“And we all know she has one,” Master Vetaris sighed, sitting down cross-legged on the flooring and leaning against a stasis pod and waving a hand at them. “Go! Go!”

Despite the urgency of the situation, it took a few minutes for the Hand to find an alternate way out of the area, and to pick up Alvira’s trail. “I knew she seemed familiar,” Vulk said as they re-entered the more ancient section of the underground structure. “How could I have missed that?”

“We all did,” Devrik shrugged, rubbing his arm where the Staff of Summer had so recently healed the deep cut inflicted by that Void-cursed clockwork Zamora. “Blinded by that impressive clockwork body of hers, I suppose. Although it’s not quite so impressive anymore, eh?” He gestured at the trail of oily fluid on the ancient stone floor, which was leading them downwards once again. “Not sure if it was Toran’s axe or Aldari’s taburi, but she’s injured now.”

“Which only makes her more dangerous, my love,” Raven said, tension adding a certain vibrato to her voice. She had wanted to leave their son with the recovering Council members, despite the boy’s protests… she’d even tried to cajole Aldari with the idea that the adults needed him to guard them, in their weakened state. But he’d seen right through that bit of sophistry, of course; and when Master Vetaris had been so strangely insistent that the boy should go with them, she’d finally given in. The truth was, she did feel better having him under her own eye, given that there was danger here wherever they might leave him…

Her thoughts were brought up short as the group reached the next level down. They were all brought up short at the sight of five massive statues that filled immense alcoves evenly space around the circular chamber. The towering figures were vaguely humanoid, she supposed, if one were generously elastic with that word. They were truly alien, so much so that her eye had trouble interpreting what she was seeing… or maybe it was just the dim light… all she could tell for certain was that she didn’t really want to see more.

“Could these be the Ancients?” Mariala wondered aloud, unable to pull her own gaze from the disturbing images.

“Maybe,” Devrik growled, turning away after a moment. “But we don’t have time to dwell on the mystery now. Assuming we stop Alvira, we’ll have plenty of time to figure it out later. Let’s keep moving.”

It was on the next level down, the bottommost layer of this strange underground structure, that they finally found their quarry. Alvira stood beside a vast pit of glowing green, magma-like material, her back to her enemies. The space around the vast chamber was lined with alien machines, etched with lines and rings of glowing green energy. The Hand tried to move into the chamber, but made it only a few meters before being brought up short by an invisible barrier of some kind. It glowed with a translucent pale green light when touched, and proved utterly impenetrable.

Alvira’s new mechanical body was definitely a little the worse for wear, but was apparently still fully functional. She glanced over her shoulder as the would-be heroes rushed into the chamber to stop her and were brought up short by her shield. Her crystal eyes glittered with malice and hate, but she didn’t stop what she was doing at the side of the nearest of the great machines. Capacitors, actually, although she suspected these dolts didn’t realize that… or even know what a capacitor was. But they’d learn soon enough…

“Alvira, stop what you’re doing and surrender,” Devrik yelled over the tremendous thrumming of power from the pit and the capacitors. He could swear the sound was getting louder, the pulse faster, with each passing minute. “Lord Kavyn and your son are reviving the others, and soon you’ll face not only us but the entire Star Council. Even you must realize that you can’t succeed against us all!”

“Indeed not,” she screeched, her melodious artificial voice cracking for a moment under her sudden rage, splintering into a grating discordancy. “But you’ve ruined my plans for the last time, you meddling infants! I would have brought order and stability to the Empire, and eventually to the world; I would have ushered in a new Golden Age of learning, prosperity and peace. But you and your mewling masters just could’t let that happen, could you? Well, fine! If I can’t remake this world into what it could have been — I will unmake it altogether!”

“You’re mad, Alvira!” Vulk shouted. “However powerful this place might be, it’s not like it can destroy the entire world. Even if you’re only taking us with you, though, is some pointless revenge really worth your live? Life in defeat is life still —“

“You fools have no idea where we stand, do you?” Alvira cut the simpering cantor off with a malicious laugh. “This is the very spot where the Ancients first breeched the dimensional barriers and opened up this world to those truly alien beings we know as Chaos Demons – a mistake that ultimately lead to the death of their entire race, and the utter sterilization of this planet. For over a million years, until our precious Immortals came along and brought forth new life, this was a dead rock… but the Immortals proved to be no smarter than the Ancients, in the end.

“The Lost Immortal, the Unnamed, eventually discovered this place and just couldn’t resist tampering with what lay buried here. The Forgotten One and the four apprentices — oh, their names are remembered! Remembered and despised across the globe for unleashing a new plague of demons on the world and bringing down the Immortal’s shining Co-Dominion civilization. But they were never to blame… from what I have uncovered, I believe they all tried to stop the Immortal fool – Edergal, the Khundari, Zhezwan, the Telnori, and Besalyn and Trevon, the Umantari twins. But all were consumed by that first chaotic rush of demonic consciousness as it breeched the walls of our reality. Mortal and Immortal alike, their minds and souls were devoured, digested, merged — fated to become the core of Naventhül, the greatest of the new Demon Lords.”

“Wait, you have proof of this?” Mariala called out, momentarily distracted by this amazing tale. “There are legends… little more than fanciful rumors, really, but there’s never been any proof —“

“Oh, there has always been proof, at least amongst the Telnori… and certainly the Immortals know who was responsible, if not where exactly the event took place. The Lost Immortal, having found this island, placed powerful shields around it, reinforcing the fading ones left by the Ancients, and for millennia the other Immortals had their demi-godling hands full trying to undo and contain the damage unleashed by their wayward, and heartily cursed, sibling.

“But it was me, a mere Umantari mortal, who solved all the puzzles, broke though all the barriers and legends and lies, and rediscovered this place… although it took me nearly two lifetimes to do it. But unlike the Unnamed, I was smart enough not to tamper with the gates to realms which we were never meant to know. No, I stuck with the more basic technologies of the Co-Dominion and of ancient, lost Areth… and that’s all that magic is really, just another form of technology.

“With all the knowledge I gained here I would have — well, it hardly matters now. As you say, my plans are in ruins, and there is no longer a path to the victory I have worked toward for so long.” Her voice was calmer now, all the rage seemingly spent, and she finally turned to fully face her gathered enemies… Mariala realized Alvira’s hands had been busy the entire time she’d been speaking…

“You’re too late, my poppets! I’ve made sure that the tear between dimensional realities will be torn wide open – and this time there will be no closing it. If the world rejects my benevolent guidance, then so be it! It can die, instead! Yes, we can all die together!”

The rate of the pulsing thrum of power coming off the capacitors circling the pit had been steadily increasing in rate while Alvira had been working and talking, and now it reached a crescendo in a single blast of force that knocked everyone on their asses. As they staggered back to their feet, the Hand realized that the wall of force which had kept them from the mad clockwork woman was gone – and the pulsing light from the ring of capacitors had reversed itself.

They were now pumping energy back into the seething green magma pit, which was glowing brighter, the roiling energies growing more and more tumultuous. With the barrier gone, the Hand rushed forward to attack their old enemy — who laughed manically, and gestured toward the would-be heroes with a muttered a word of power.

Whatever she had expected to happen, she was clearly shocked by the actual outcome – her left hand flared with a blinding flash of light and blew apart into a thousand glowing metal shards. As she staggered back, glaring at her shattered limb, Erol unleashed a Blast of Norinos at her, sending shards of solid light into her metallic form. At the same time Mariala’s cross-bow bolt struck Avira in the abdomen, lodging between two plates. The Clockwork Mage staggered back another step.

Taking the opening, Toran leaped forward, his battle axe striking Alvira in the stomach. With a screeing of metal on metal, the blow did little damage, but kept her off balance, allowing Aldari to dart in and slam his now-flaming dagger into the sorceress’ right knee — the one already damaged by his thrown taburi. The limb sparked and buckled, bringing her to one knee, snarling in fury.

Korwin, who had held back, looking for the right opportunity, saw it as the clockwork villain staggered back up, reeling against the edge of the magma pit. He unlimbered his Ice Wand and muttered the control word to unleash a searing blast of super-cooled ice at Alvira – only to feel something go very wrong with the embedded spell!

Maybe it was the strange, seething energies of the magma, interacting with the opposite convocational power of the wand, or simply a poorly cast original spell; whatever the cause, instead of a lance of ice impaling the madwoman, a sheet of ice fanned out in a wide arc all around her. It briefly covered much of the magma pit… even as the heat blasted away the short-lived shell of ice, the rising thrum of power growing out of control slowed, and the frenzied pulsing of the capacitors noticeably decreased in rate.

Erol had followed up Toran and Aldari’s attacks to strike at Alvira with his trident, but she recovered quickly, taking the trident’s blow on her damaged left arm, at the same time seizing the ex-gladiator by the neck with her right hand. Lifting him off his feet as if he weighed nothing, she hurled him across the chamber.

As the mechanical woman tossed his Uncle Erol aside Aldari darted in for another attack… but this time she saw him coming. Her still-sparking left forearm backhanded him across the room as well, where he fell into a stunned, semi-conscious heap on the floor.

Raven, enraged at this attack on her son, sent a sling stone flying with all her skill, accuracy and fury behind it— the stone struck with a sharp crack, and the red crystal in Alvira’s chestpiece fractured. The damage, however, didn’t appear to greatly concern the madwoman, who seemed more focused on the sudden slowing of the energy build-up in the pit. Turning her back contemptuously on her enemies, she gestured at the slowly calming magma pit… and this time her spell worked!

A ball of orange-red flame burst forth from her undamaged hand and buried itself in the heart of the roiling energy. In a flash of brilliant green-white light the churning of the magma again began to increase in intensity, and the rate of pulsing light from the capacitors sped up.

Devrik, realizing that Korwin had inadvertently stumbled onto a way to stop Alvira, sheathed his sword and focused all of his concentration on his arcane mastery of flame and heat. In this place he felt his connection to his element bolstered, and the spell he unleashed felt more powerful than any he’d ever cast before. Quench radiated out from him to dampen the rising heat from the magma pit, absorbing much of the energy pulsing into it from the overloaded capacitors.

“We need to keep her from adding more energy,” he bellowed to his friends, sweat streaming down his fiercely contorted face as he struggled to pull in and redirect the massive energies in the chamber. “Korwin, more ice!”

Mariala, Vulk and Erol all began casting variations on Dispell, interrupting and deflecting Alvira’s further attempts to cast fireballs into the pit, while Korwin unleashed Korbid’s Icy Bite and Breath of Arandu in quick succession. The temperature in the room plummeted, and the throbbing sound of the building energies began to slow once more.

“No!” screamed Alvira. “You will NOT stop me this time! I’ve bound more than enough power into this new form of mine – and you’re exhausting yourselves already! I’ll see to it that you can never stop the overload!”

With that she turned and leapt for the edge of the magma pit. Glowing white webs flashed out from the Staff of Summer in Vulk’s hand, ensnaring the sorceress’ clockwork form… while the binding failed to completely stop her, it did slow her down. The tremendous strength of her constructed body allowed her to rip free of many of the clinging strands… and when her sparking left arm touched one of the glowing fibers it set off a flaming chain reaction that melted away the remaining webs, harming her metal body not at all.

She reached the edge of the magma pit and started to pull herself up onto its containment wall, laughing in psychotic glee in anticipation of her final, triumphant act – only to jerk to a sudden stop. Toran, taking advantage of Vulk’s delaying tactic and moving with his ninja-dwarf stealth, had grabbed her left ankle. Casting the Joining of Merkünon on himself, he was suddenly immovably welded to the stone of the chamber floor – and the power flowed through him to anchor her to him just as securely.

Alvira shrieked in rage and twisted to strike at the impudent Khundari, but between the angle, her foreshortened left arm, and his own reflexes she could land no blow that might force him to release her. As she struggled, the magma pool, under the combined assault of Korwin’s ice powers and Devrik’s psionic leeching of its heat, slowly settled back down to near its earlier levels.

Aldari, laying groggy and barely semi-conscious nearby, suddenly felt himself rising out of his body. Looking down in surprise, he saw himself sprawled on the strange stone floor… and he realized that this felt familiar. He had hovered outside his body before, he was certain of that, but he couldn’t quite remember when that had been…

Looking away from his dazed mortal body, the boy turned to glare at the evil clockwork lady, as she struggled against Uncle Toran’s grip. In his mind’s eye he saw the amber energies of the spell that anchored them both to the ground, as well as the violent, white power that was barely contained within her mechanical form; the roiling energy of the pit was something new, he realized, a color he couldn’t describe and that was difficult to even look at…

Aldari’s eye was suddenly caught by a strange ripple in the air over the pit… oh, he’d seen something like this before, more than once… but he had thought it was just in his dreams. In those dreams, when he had pulled at the edges of such a ripple, a doorway had opened… sometimes nothing came through the doorway, sometimes innocent creatures, like bunnies or deer, came through… but other times terrible things came through! Maybe that was why he never remembered, after he woke up, because was sure he’d done a bad thing… but the last time… he remembered that now! The last time, Papa and his friends had come through the door he’d opened in his sleep, to rescue Mama and him!

He sensed that he could open a doorway to anyplace now, anywhere at all. And he also felt his connection to the elemental force of fire so much more powerfully here than he ever had before – even that time he barely remembered, in the volcano chamber, when he was a baby. He felt like he could rip open a doorway into the very heart of the Fire – and with that thought came a sudden flash of inspiration!

He would open a doorway into the sun itself, the greatest fire there was, Papa had once told him! That would show that bad metal lady, she wouldn’t be able to resist their fireballs then! He and Papa would melt her right into a puddle! He reached out his astral hands and began to pull on the edge of that fuzzy place…

Then another sudden thought struck him, and he paused. The metal lady had been casting spells, too, including fire spells… she was obviously a Gray Mage, like Aunt Mariala had told him about. Maybe she’d be able to use the fire herself, if he opened a door into the sun… that wouldn’t be good. Then he thought about what Mama and Aunt Mariala had been telling him in his lessons, about using just the right amount of force to get a job done, no more. That more wasn’t always better. So maybe more fire wasn’t the answer, or more power…

Well, maybe he could send the bad lady away, instead… someplace cold and empty of power. He wasn’t quite sure what was going on, but he understood enough to know his friends did NOT want her to reach that strange pool with the color that hurt his mind to look at… and that bad things would happen if she did. Confident in his decision now, Aldari reached out again and grasped the edges of the slight ripple… and pulled.

Mariala saw the rift in the air over the pit as soon as it began to open. She watched in horror as it grew wider and wider, until it was nearly two meters across. Dear Shala, had they failed? Had that bitch managed to open the dimensional rift after all? But what she saw beyond the shimmering edges of the portal didn’t look like what she’d imagined the realm of pure chaos would. In fact, it looked more like a night sky, full of a billion stars, but each brilliant point of light steady and unflickering —

With a roar, the air in the vast chamber began to pour through the rift and into the vacuum beyond it. Every loose object for ten meters around was pulled relentlessly toward that sucking maw, the lighter bits of debris and unsecured clothing vanishing quickly into the void beyond. Mariala felt the tug and grabbed at the nearest fixed support, barely keeping herself from being sucked upward.

Erol wedged his trident into a crevice of floor and held on with all his strength, and when Aldari’s limp form skittered along nearby he reached out and snagged the boy as well. Devrik and Korwin were well placed to grab on to fixed structures, and Raven dropped down behind the nearest capacitor, while Vulk used the Staff to web himself in place. Toran was in no danger at all, of course, being magically fused to the planet itself… but, unfortunately, by the same token, so was Alvira.

“Toran, release her!” Mariala screamed over the relentless roar of outrushing air… was it getting hard to breathe, or was that just her imagination…?

Toran had already understood what was happening and needed no further urging — he relaxed his grip on the metal woman’s ankle, freeing her from the Joining at the same time. In the instant she realized what he was doing she screamed in inarticulate rage and reached out to grab him, to anchor herself to him with her great strength… but she was the closet of all of them to the sucking vortex, and her fingertips just brushed the Khundari’s arm before it lifted her like a leaf in a storm, pulling her up, up, and away. She spun madly through the portal, her screams unheard in the vacuum beyond… she shrank from sight with a shocking rapidity…

Aldari, transfixed by what he had done, suddenly realized that his family was now in danger… could he close what he had opened? Before, he thought his doorways had just closed on their own… but if he could open a doorway, he must be able to close it, right? He envisioned grasping the pulsing edge of the gateway and pulling it back towards its own center… and as he did the aperture began to grow smaller and smaller… in a few seconds it was gone altogether, and everything returned to normal…

Looking back at his body down on the floor, Aldari saw that his mother had reached him and was cradling him in her arms, patting his face, urging him to wake up, Uncle Erol kneeling next to them… and without volition he felt himself being pulled back into his physical body, as inexorably as Alvira Ketaris had been pulled into the void…