Haplo Marikilo stood tightly wrapped in his cloak against the chill of the Kristala Va midnight air and looked apprehensively at his companions. King Laravad, usurper of the Tharkian throne, seemed in one of his manic moods, gleefully bouncing on the balls of his feet, his breath visible as excited puffs of white. His chief lieutenant, Kinthol Arket, blew on his hands and smiled faintly at his monarch’s high spirits, while the six Royal Guards under his command (foreign mercenaries to a man) stood stoically arrayed around them. The royal “advisor” and de facto Court Arcanist, Jeriko Varan stood behind them all, in the shadows of the Royal Box, his face invisible in the deeper shadow of his hood, save for the ice-chip glint of his eyes.
It made his skin crawl to have the older man behind him, but there was little Haplo could do about it at the moment. In the month or so since he’d gained entreé to this increasingly unstable Court he’d risen steadily in the “King’s” favor, despite rebuffing the man’s rather desultory advances (while having no desire to be bedded by the syphilitic despot, Haplo was a little insulted the man didn’t make more of an effort). But his meteoric ascent was viewed with thinly veiled hostility by many of Laravad’s synchophants, with Lord Varan, as he styled himself, chief amongst them.
He was certain the mage had no clue of his true status as an agent of the Star Council, else he’d have denounced him on the instant. But that didn’t mean the man wouldn’t take any opportunity to stab Haplo in the back if he could manage it without earning his meal ticket’s ire. No doubt he feared the younger man was angling to replacing him as Tharkia’s head arcanist… and so his cold, reptilian gaze seemed always to linger on him…
Except at the holy day feast this evening – then Varan had been entirely focused on Laravad, the two almost completely ignoring the festivities to whisper conspiratorially between themselves. Their inattention had annoyed the various entertainers, although the only one to show any sign of pique was the newest jongleur Laravad had brought back from his progress last month. Fortunately the “King” had been too preoccupied to notice, but Haplo worried that Vox was going to get himself in trouble if he didn’t guard his emotions more closely.
The singer was, in fact, about the only person Haplo came close to trusting in this vipers nest. They’d met last year when he’d come across the jongleur and a group of the Norja Duin being attacked by angry villagers. Using both his fighting skill and his powers of illusion he’d helped the Night People drive off their attackers, and of necessity had traveled for several days with them to get clear of any reprisals. He and Vox had struck up a friendly acquaintance, and found some mutual respect, in that short time.
He’d been surprised to see the singer at Court when he’d found his own opening, shortly after the “King’s” Royal Progress had ended. And Vox had seemed actually dismayed to see him, in turn… or maybe embarrassed? For a tenday they’d warily circled each other in the gavotte of paranoia that Laravad’s Court fostered, until circumstances had finally brought them to a relatively safe place to hold a private conversation.
Although both were cautious and circumspect at first, it quickly became obvious the two held similar views on the current “government” of Tharkia. Able to relax a bit, Haplo had been relieved to learn that Vox’s presence was not entirely voluntary – and that he already knew of the monarch’s disease. Like Haplo, he’d managed to avoid Laravad’s lecherous advances, at least so far.
Haplo had been tempted to take the jongleur into his confidence and enlist his help. But it was too risky, and in any case not his call to make… the Star Council was pretty clear about that sort of initiative. In the end they had agreed to distance themselves, so as not to bring disaster on the other if one suddenly found themselves out of favor. The closest they’d come to speaking in the last tenday was tonight, when Vox had rolled his eyes at Haplo as he’d stalked out of the Great Hall after finishing only two ballads –
“Soon my young friend!” Laravad suddenly exclaimed, slapping Haplo on the back and snapping him out of his reverie. “Soon you shall have the show I promised you! Isn’t that right Jeriko? Any minute now!”
“Indeed, sire,” the Court Arcanist’s voice slithered from the shadows, dropping the temperature another two degrees at least, Haplo was sure. He still had no idea why the increasingly erratic king had insisted that his youngest mage should join his little expedition when they left Kar Zhuran just before midnight. Or why Varan hadn’t objected, not even to the extent of a cutting look or sarcastic comment.
“I promise you a night you won’t soon forget… nor will the enemies of my regime” Laravad had chortled, pulling the younger man along in his wake as the entourage hustled out the postern gate. “A night that shall see the end of my greatest foes!”
The usurper had a great many foes, Haplo had thought, and it was anyones guess which ones he found to be his greatest. Not long ago he himself would have said it was the Hand of Fortune, premiere agents of the Star Council (although Laravad was unlikely to know that particular secret). But the Hand had vanished over a month ago, after narrowly defeating the powerful head of the Vortex organization, to the great consternation of their, and Haplo’s, mentor Kiril Vetaris.
The mystery was not made any clearer when the party had arrived, after several delays caused by the crowds of drunken revelers that still packed the streets, at the site of an ancient and more than a little decrepit arena in the oldest part of town. Once used to house the early Taruthani games in a distant time before they’d been outlawed, in recent decades it had been used as a thrice-monthly farmer’s market. That use had come to an abrupt end, however, when Laravad had imprisoned his father and seized the throne some six months ago.
But it appeared to be back in use now Haplo realized as they entered through the Royal Door and climbed up the steep steps to the old Royal Box. The stone of the arena floor had clearly had recent work done, being now much smoother and even than he remembered from his previous visit to the market, several months past.
The seats and stairs, at least in this section, seemed also to have been refurbished, and a new canopy was spread over it. The twelve large stone fire basins around the perimeter had all been cleaned and packed with fuel, and now burned brightly. They illuminated the arena beautifully, although there was nothing to currently see… aside from the new stonework itself.
After several minutes of nothing Haplo had tried to draw out the “king” (and he really had to stop adding those quotes, even in his head – one day they’d leak out in his voice, and then he’d have some explaining to do), but Laravad seemed to have gone silent, merely vibrating with suppressed excitement… and nerves?… until now.
“A wonderful show,” the king repeated in a whisper, eyes huge and glistening in his pale face, lips parted as if in anticipation of a kiss.
As Haplo wondered just what this promised “show” was going to be, and how many people were going to die, there was a sudden flash of light from the floor of the arena – when his dazzled sight cleared, the young mage saw a pattern of seven Greater Warding Circles, glowing a brilliant blue-white, seared into the stone. A moment after that, but with no corresponding visual warning, six figures suddenly blinked into existence, one in each of the smaller circles of power.
Haplo’s eyes widened in shock as he recognized the six people caught in Laravad’s trap…
♦ ♦ ♦
Vox’s eyes widened in surprise as six people suddenly appeared out of thin air, standing in the eldritch glow of the magical symbols that had also suddenly appeared, seconds earlier. The singer was not unfamiliar with magic, but only with the common, simple magics of the everyday world – not this kind of obviously high-end, melt-your-brain, apocalyptic magic! He suddenly wondered what he’d gotten himself into…
It had been almost a whim that led him to follow Laravad and his lackey-patrol when he’d spotted them leaving the castle by the postern gate. He’d thought it odd, since the main gate was still open to allow revelers to come and go on this holy day of celebration. But the fact itself of the king leaving in the middle of the night was not particularly strange, given his debauched appetites, and Vox was disinclined to know more than he already did about such things.
But then he’d spotted his sort-of-friend Haplo amongst the group, looking worried, and had made the decision to follow along almost without conscious thought. Grabbing his cloak and, on another sudden impulse, his longbow and quiver, he’d hurried out the postern gate after the royal party.
It had been difficult to follow them – on this particular Day Between the Years the city of Zhuran had exploded in a frenzy of excess beyond what the holy day usually brought – an excuse to release the tensions of the last horrible half-year, perhaps? In any case, drunken parties were going on everywhere, and the streets were packed with throngs of inebriated citizens, soldiers, mercenaries, Ethmoniri and Firilani tribesmen, and who knew what others. The City Watch and the Royal Guard were clearly having trouble keeping it all under control… not least because a great many of the erstwhile guardians of law and order had been indulging all day themselves.
Vox smiled cynically at the thought, as he pushed through the crowds. Fortunately the king’s party was fairly large and not at all shy about roughly knocking aside tipsy revelers… he was able to follow their disrupted wake until he regained sight of them. The crowds thinned a bit once past Execution Square and over the canal, as they moved into the older part of town. But even here there was a density of inebriated citizenry unusual for the hour, if of a rougher sort than the more affluent crowds around the royal keep.
The mystery of what was going on only deepened when Vox saw the king and his party enter a run-down old arena. It had apparently been a farmer’s market, until the current monarch had come to power, and had sat empty in the months since. Shortly after he’d arrived in town, more-or-less stolen away from the Baroness of Ansilmoth by King Laravad, Vox had noticed some sort of activity going on there, a renovation of some sort, he’d assumed then. With no reason to give it a second thought, he hadn’t.
But now he began to wonder… the construction had started shortly after that strange woman had blown into town. In her late sixties, still handsome, if a bit worn down, no doubt from the road, she had impressed the young singer as someone not to be trifled with. She had been immediately received by Laravad, and the two were closeted for hours that first day.
A few evenings later Vox had been summoned to perform for them while they supped alone, although he was too removed to hear any conversation. She was in and out of the castle for a tenday, before vanishing just as mysteriously as she’d appeared. But he was sure now that the woman he’d spotted that day giving the workers instructions had been her…
Easily disposing of the rusty lock that secured one of the public entrances on the side opposite from that by which the king’s party had entered, Vox had crept slowly up the steep steps and out into the stands. Crouching down behind one of the flaming stone basins he’d peered carefully around the great shell shape of its light shield to see what he could see.
Which was the royal party, arrayed around the seats at the far side, under a new-looking canopy in the Tharkian royal colors. It was hard to be sure, given the distance and the shifting shadows and light, but Haplo seemed ill at ease, uncertain.
Ever since he’d come to aid of Vox’s adopted Zilkah Sül family of the Night People, during that unfortunate incident with the irate villagers over the missing pig, he’d rather liked him. Impressed with the mage then, Vox’s respect was renewed when they’d finally had a chance to talk after meeting at Court.
Originally worried that his acquaintance had taken up with the usurper out of personal ambition, he’d been relieved to learn it was not so. It seemed pretty obvious that Haplo was working some angle – to damage, maybe even bring down, Laravad – but was too canny to admit it. It was also clear that he wanted to protect Vox by keeping away from his agenda, whatever it might be, in case things went bad.
Vox appreciated the thought, but he could take care of himself… and so had taken to keeping an eye out for his sort-of-friend. Which was why he had followed along tonight, and was now staring in amazement at the greatest magical feat he had ever personally witnessed… and wondering what the Void he should do, besides slink away…
Just as he began to turn away one of the faces in the arena came suddenly into focus, and he inhaled sharply – Vulk Elida! It had been four or five years, but he’d know that tall, strong figure and beautiful face anywhere. He’d been an apprentice – no, they called them acolytes in the religion business – when he and his mentor had taken on the case of a young Norja Duin accused of being a runaway Darikazi serf in an Arushali town.
The cantor had gotten the charges against Vox dismissed, and he’d listened to the man’s sermon afterward, at first out of gratitude, but eventually out of real shared interest. It was that moment that had started him down the path to Kasira, his patron Immortal to this day. And he’d have shared Acolyte Vulk’s bed that night, too, given the obvious attractions they’d felt for one another, if Cantor Arindel had not been quite so vigilant of his ward’s chastity…
So now Vox had two dogs in this fight… and he was sure it was a fight, or soon would be. Skulking away was no longer an option, although he still wasn’t sure what he could do against such magic. He shifted his bow from his back, and nocked an arrow as Laravad began to monologue…
♦ ♦ ♦
Mariala stepped through the Gate – and felt a sudden wave of vertigo and nausea wash over her. This was not what she usually felt during a Nitaran translation… but the sensation passed almost as quickly as it had come, as she found herself… what the Void!
It was night, not late afternoon; it was even colder than it had been in the mountains; and rather than the expected copse of trees, she stood in the middle of what appeared to be an old, run-down Taruthani arena. And the moons… Osal was alright, just begin to wax from the new moon, as was right… but Aranda. Aranda was wrong. It had been a waning half-moon just last night, and now it was only a few days past the full!
The arena was well lit by large bonfires in stone basins, but the stands were empty of spectators… no, there were maybe a dozen people directly in front of her, in what must be the box reserved for the nobility… all staring down at her. Faces were hard to make out in the flickering, shifting light…
Glancing quickly around she was relieved to see the others were all here too, thank Shala! But then she noticed the eerie glow of arcane energies pulsing beneath her feet – and the Circle of a Sigil of Greater Warding that she stood on! Each of the others also stood within their own Circles, and all were encompassed by a larger Circle yet. Oh dear, this was not good…
Her attention was drawn back to what she was increasingly certain were their captors as a man stepped forward and spoke. Dark hair and beard, dressed in furs and very high-quality armor, he smiled down at the friends with a very… disturbing smile. His eyes, in the shifting light, seemed like black pools… and quite mad.
“Ah, the infamous “Hand of Fortune!” Welcome, my dear enemies, to your doom!” His voice was not particularly high, but there was an almost subliminal hysterical edge to it. “What so many others have failed to do, I, Laravad the Second, rightful ruler of Tharkia and soon of all the lands of the Ukali Basin, shall accomplish this night!”
So that’s the infamous Laravad, Toran thought as he cooly scanned the area, noting everything that might be useful in a fight. The man showed every sign of going on all night, so maybe it was time to shut him up… he began the mental construct for the Arrow of Stavin… only to find there was – nothing! He couldn’t feel his connection to the T’ara at all. Well, this was not good…
“The Mistress has told me of your interference in our plans,” Laravad droned on, “but that problem will soon be rectified – this very night, in fact! She… WE… have laid this little trap for you all – and you have fallen quite neatly into it.” He actually giggled then, a very disturbing sound Devrik thought.
Like the others, he’d tried to cast a spell only to find his connection to the Power gone. The cursed Warding Circles, without a doubt. But if magic failed, a more physical course might serve – he often preferred it that way in any case. He strode forward, reaching for the holy greatsword at his back – only to run into what felt like a wall of solid air. It gave slightly at first, but the more he pushed the harder the barrier became, until it was like steel. He stepped back, frowning in furious thought. This was certainly not good…
“She would have liked to have been here herself,” the demented usurper went on, “but I’m afraid your last meeting left her… a bit the worse for wear.” He seemed singularly unconcerned at his ally’s plight. “So she’s off… rejuvenating herself… a little spa retreat, I suppose you could say!” That giggle again. It really was creepy Erol thought.
Magic and physical strength having failed him, as the others, he was trying valiantly now to use his extra-temporal and power-enhancing psionic abilities. Actually, he was attempting something that Asakora had recently suggested was possible… to reverse the effect of his power, and dampen, rather than enhance, a nearby spell. But while he could feel the power within, he could not make it manifest in any way… no more than Grover, racing around in frantic circles, could pierce the barrier… but he’d keep trying, even if it wasn’t any good…
“So, it falls to me to eliminate the annoyance that is the Hand of Fortune... What a pretentious name!” Laravad sneered. “And soon I will do the same to your precious Star Council. Oh yes, don’t look so scandalized – I have no problem mentioning that secret cabal of vicious puppet-masters in broad daylight – well, at midnight, but you know what I mean. I have no fear of them!”
Vulk rather thought that last bit was more to convince himself than anyone else. The man seemed a bundle of insecurities to the cantor… little good the observation seemed to be at the moment, of course. While he was frustrated at his inability to access the T’ara and worried about Cherdon, circling above the barrier, it was the apparent severing of his connection to Kasira that had the cleric truly shaken. He’d hardly even been aware of the subtle thread of soul-silver that had bound him to his patroness until it was gone – and now he feared it might be broken for good. This was so not good…
“Now, my pet sorcerror will activate the spell that Madame Vortex worked so laboriously on – quite a complex one, I’m led to understand, a true masterpiece – and you will all vanish like that,” he snapped his fingers theatrically, “banished to some alien dimension, who knows where? Not I, certainly!
“You… but not your possessions, hee-hee! No, you shall go naked to your new world, and powerless, too. While I shall collect all your little knick-knacks, to gift to my loyal mages as the mood may take me… save for that ugly little ring the mistress desires, of course.”
Uh-oh, thought Korwin. Keeping the Ring of Dominion out of the hands of either of their crazed enemies was vital… but he’d be damned to the Void if he could see how they could do it. These Wards were simply too cursed powerful – even he couldn’t seem to break them. But he had noticed the presence of Master Vetaris’ other spy, Haplo Marikilo, up in the stands. Apparently the lad had found a way to infiltrate the Court after all! He could be the hidden card they needed to turn the tables… which was a good thing…
“But before Jeriko chants the final words that will complete the ritual and rid this world of you forever, my friends, we have one more bit of business to attend to.” Laravad made a sharp gesture, and two of the gurads stepped forward and seized Haplo. One, grinning at the young mage’s surprise, put a knife to his throat, forestalling any thought of immediate resistance.
“Did you really think you had pulled the wool over MY eyes, you foolish mageling?” the erstwhile monarch crowed, his face alight with glee. “I knew from the start that you were a tool of the Council… and like any wise ruler, I keep my enemies close, hee-hee! But the time has come to discard you, like a bad card, along with these other jokers. Jeriko! Throw him in with the others!”
The older mage had stepped forward out of the shadows when Haplo had been restrained, a cruel smile crooking his thin lips. Now he frowned. “Your majesty, I don’t know what his presence might –”
“I did not ask for your opinion, lackey,” Laravad screamed, his manic glee turning instantly to rage. Spittle flew from his lips and his hand trembled as he pointed at his Court Arcanist. “Do as your king commands!”
Vox, watching the drama unfold from his hiding place, saw the robed man shrug and motion toward Haplo. The younger mage was lifted off his feet as if by invisible hands – even from where he was Vox could see the surprise on his friend’s face. With another gesture he was hurled into the arena, landing almost gracefully, despite the assault, at the edge of the magic whosit circles.
The older mage then raised his hands, stepped to the railing of the box, and began to chant. Vox decided that if he was going to act, there wasn’t likely to be a better time… he stood, drew and released a shaft just as the man seemed to reach the climax of… whatever the Void he was doing…
♦ ♦ ♦
Several things happened almost simultaneously when Vox Arantia loosed his shaft, in what he instinctively knew was a perfect shot to the head…
Jeriko Varan, deep in concentration as he set in motion the complex series of interlocking spells Avira Vetaris had created, telekinetically swatted aside the incoming missile out of sheer reflex. Had his attention been less wholly focused on the spells, he would have simply stopped the arrow in mid-flight, and Fate would have bent in a very different direction. But it was, and he didn’t, and so…
The arrow arced sharply to the right under Varan’s push, piercing the compass of the Greater Ward Circle. It missed everyone in the circles, landing near the center of the Greater Circle. At that same instant the ritual was complete, and the interlocking spells flared to life… but Vox’s arrow, in breaking the surface of the barrier, had created a hole… and a path…
Suddenly, Erol’s efforts bore startling fruit as he both slowed time around him and simultaneously dampened the power of the spells blazing into reality… psionics, altered spells, fractured barrier… all interacted in ways no mortal could ever have predicted…
There was a blinding flash of light, a deafening non-sound, and the Hand felt as if their very souls were being ripped from their bodies. With silent screams each was caught up in a cyclonic kaleidoscopic of sights, sounds, pain, ecstasy, euphoria and despair that they could make no sense of. Vox, too, was caught up in this maelstrom as the energy raced back along the path of his arrow to engulf him. For an eternity the seven souls whirled in an ever-tightening spiral…
And then it stopped.
With no transition Toran found himself standing in a large, well-lit chamber facing a strange man in even stranger silvery armor. He felt disoriented and… wrong. It took him a second to realize it was because he seemed to be several feet taller than he should, that and the fact that he seemed to be encased in an armored shell himself… from head to foot! Strange sigils, their meaning just on the edge of understanding, glowed in the air before his face, next to little windows, like… small scrying pools?
Vulk was having a similar sense of disorientation in regard to height… already the tallest of his companions, he seemed even taller now. But more disturbing was the fact that his body seemed composed entirely of… living ice?! Looking around him in a daze, he realized he was surrounded by strangers… very queerly dressed strangers…
Korwin was not only having to deal with suddenly being in a strange body, in a strange place, with strange people – but also the fact that he was hovering in the air… wreathed in blue flames! How the Void did this happen?!
Mariana was having an easier time of it, not least because the body in which she found herself was not too dissimilar to her own. In better shape, perhaps, she quickly realized, and with amazing physical reflexes. There was no connection to the T’ara, however, which was disturbing. But there was something else… something about the voluminous black cloak she wore… As she took stock of the situation she also realized that she rather liked the scandalously form-fitting black outfit she found herself in…
Vox had been facing the Hand when… whatever the Void that had been… happened, and the body he suddenly found himself wearing was also faced toward this new group of strangely-clad people – and the view beyond them. Through a wall of… crystal? Surely not glass, not even the Khundari could make such huge sheets, and so flawless… Beyond that magical wall lay a city unlike any he’d seen. Or imagined.
Towers of stone and metal and crystal rose impossibly high, as far as he could see. Blue skies, white clouds, golden sunlight… and yet the light was wrong somehow… off in a way he couldn’t quite define, but couldn’t help noticing. And then there was that emerald green tower that rose twice as high as any other, seeming to pierce the alien sky…
Erol was trapped in madness.
Too many voices, all clamoring at once… fear, anger, bewilderment… Asakora, Faerendol, an unknown young man, an ancient raven, an angry eagle, so many more… but worst of all, he was in two places at once… in a vast, bright room lit by an alien sun… and also in an ancient stone arena under a blue moon he knew well…
♦ ♦ ♦
At that same moment, if that concept has any meaning under such conditions, the bodies of the Hand were playing host to the consciousnesses of those they had displaced in that strange new world… and confusing the Void out of Haplo.
He had seen Vox rise up beyond one of the fire basins, saw him take his shot at Varan, and saw it suddenly veer off and into the Wards, just as the mage finished his chant with a triumphant shout. There had been a flash and an arc of blue-white energy had snaked back along the path of Vox’s arrow to strike his friend.
And now… nothing.
Both Vox and the Hand of Fortune stood where they had been, only the glowing sigils of the Wards gone, the arena lit now only by the natural fire light of the stone braziers. For a moment silence reigned as everyone stood rooted in surprise. Then Laravad screamed, a piercing cry of rage and fear.
“She swore it would work!” he shrieked, turning on Varan, whose face was as white as the King’s. “YOU swore it would work! Now they’re free and they’ll kill us all!”
Arket immediately ordered four of his men to surround the king and joined them to escort their monarch out of the arena. As they hustled Laravad away he dispatched the other two guards to another task.
“Release the güls!” he ordered quietly. “Then join us to get his Majesty back to the castle.”
As a trembling Laravad raced down the stairs surrounded by his five mercenaries, Varan shook his head in annoyance. “That will never stop them… it will barely slow them down.”
Looking like he’d rather run hImself, Haplo rather thought, the older mage mastered himself and began murmuring another arcane chant…
Artemis looked around in confusion. A moment ago she had been confronting the Silver Samurai in a penthouse suite, with the rest of the Vanguard… then the villain had blown that ancient horn and there’d been that sudden twisting sense of vertigo… and now she was… here.
Wherever here was, exactly. It had been an early summer afternoon, now it seemed to be a winter night… under a large blue moon… with the sliver of a second, smaller moon just rising above the stone walls… another alien planet? She quickly dismissed the unsettling thought as currently irrelevant.
More pressing, her teammates had vanished and she was surrounded by strangers dressed like extras from Game of Thrones… hell, she herself was in some sort of Maid Marion get-up. Except… this wasn’t her, at least not her body. She knew her own form too well to be fooled… this body, while of a height with her own, was in nowhere near as good condition. Not flabby, or even unfit, just not up to her own (admittedly high) standards. More disturbing, she felt no connection to her cloak and its shadow powers… this could be bad…
Scion staggered momentarily as he tried to climb to his feet, wondering how he’d found himself sitting on his ass… and out of his armor! It took a moment for him to realize the problem – he wasn’t sitting. He was, in fact, maybe four-and-a-half feet tall! And with a huge, dark beard, and mustaches braided with… onyx beads?! And dressed like a Dwarf from the Lord of the Rings movies. In fact, as far as he could tell, he was Gimili… oh shit, this was bad…
Blue Flame found himself suddenly on the ground and fully human. Which was bad enough, and deeply unsettling, but what was really disturbing was that he seemed to be in the body of some sort of blond surfer dude! The long blond hair and the indefinable sense of water and the sea left him with that certainty. The weird clothes – like all the strangers around him, he seemed to be dressed like a reject form the Shannara Chronicles – didn’t fit, but he was too freaked out to think about it… because his power was gone! Try as he might to flame on, it just wouldn’t happen… this wasn’t just bad, this was a fucking disaster!
Quanta looked around in surprise. His first thought, that they’d all been teleported by the strange device the Silver Samurai had wielded, was immediately discarded as he realized he appeared not to be in his own body. Shorter, much stockier and, frankly, over-muscled… he also could feel no connection to his quantum powers. Some sort of mind-switch was, he supposed, a possibility… but for the moment and until more evidence presented itself, he was inclined to the theory that they were in some sort of very advanced virtual reality simulation. The D&D-style clothes and environment certainly supported the idea. A bad spot, to be sure… but also interesting…
Chilz was shocked to find himself much shorter than he’d been an instant before – and much meatier! He immediately reached for that switch in the back of his mind that triggered his transformation into living ice – and found nothing. Well, no… not nothing. There was some other sort of connection there… ignoring all the strangers in the Renaissance Faire costumes around him, Chuck focused on that feeling… and felt a sudden surge of understanding… there was a link within his mind to a Power, different from his own but somehow welcoming… and he sensed a Presence… He began to listen, and realized things maybe weren’t all bad…
Phantom Ace found himself standing behind a stone shield that backed a huge bonfire, a bow in one hand and the long shaft of an arrow in the other, looking down on a group of strangers in a kind of gladiatorial arena. They were all dressed like escapees from one of the more garish Robin Hood movies – maybe that old stinker with Kevin Costner? His first inclination was to go insubstantial and teleport to a safer spot – but the connection to his power was… gone! Instead he felt a ghost-like presence… and the certainty that if he just relaxed and… listened… he could shoot this longbow like an expert… which, he suspected, wouldn’t be a bad skill to have in Nottingham, or wherever he was…
Totem thought he was going mad.
After that disturbing sense of vertigo and dislocation, suddenly all of his avatars were in his head, babbling variously at him – angry, confused, demanding. And there seemed two… no, three… other voices… an Asakora… a Faerendol… and… Erol? But worse than this cacophony of voices was the fact that he – they– seemed to be in two different places at once… in Emerald City, with the confused faces of his teammates around him… them… and in some old stone coliseum, under a beautiful blue moon, with equally confused strangers… No! Not strangers, one of the voices said… friends… at his drunkest, he’d never experienced double vision like this… the cacophony in his mind seemed to redouble… in two worlds he collapsed to the ground, clutching his head…
♦ ♦ ♦
“Hand! They’re getting away!” Haplo yelled in frustration as the supposed heroes of the Star Council just stood around looking variously confused while the mad usurper and his minions fled. “And I don’t know what that swine Varan is up to, but it can’t be good for any of us!”
“Do I know you?” Artemis asked the striking-looking young man who was shouting at her. His words hovered just on the brink of comprehension…and somehow her own words came out of her mouth in that same almost-understood language!
“Yes!” the silver-haired man shouted, clearly very frustrated by something. “We met last month, just before you all vanished – I’m Haplo Marikilo. But there’s not time for –”
Artemis thought she recognized a name in that last spurt of words… Haplow Marakeelow… she should introduce herself next. “I am Artemis. Can you tell me–”
“Artemis! Is that you?” The stocky, muscular man with the flaming red hair strode toward her, an enormous, shining sword in his hand. “It’s me, Quanta. We appear to be trapped in some sort of advanced virtual reality simulation, as far as I can determine.”
He spoke in the same half-familiar language as the other man, but this time something seemed to click and she understood him… “Yes, it’s me… and if you’re really Quanta, then I think we can assume these others are our other teammates, yes?”
They quickly established their identities, using the code phrases the Vanguard had developed for just such doubtful situations, while the silver-haired Haplow danced around in impatience. Chilz quickly explained what he’d divined about their situation, forcing Quanta to reluctantly reevaluate his theory. After several attempts, with Artemis and Scion oddly enough having the most difficulty, the group managed to tap into the powers of the bodies they now wore… along with hazy memories and fragmented thoughts.
“I think we’re in a world where magic really works,” Chilz said, shaking his head in wonder. “It’s amazing!”
“There’s no such thing as magic,” Quanta sighed, shaking his own head in exasperation. “Only science we don’t yet understand. As Arthur C. Clarke said–”
But Kyle’s lecture was cut off before it could fairly begin by the sound of iron grinding on stone. From behind them and to either side openings appeared and four monstrous figures strode forth into the light. They were like nothing any of the Vanguard had ever seen – humanoid in build, with thick, muscular bodies, not especially tall, but far from short. Their jet black skin was covered in places with coarse, wiry black hair, and thick manes of blue-black hair covered their heads.
But it was the faces… those snarling visages seemed a horrifying mix of human and animal… snouted, fanged, with enormous tusks and glaring red eyes. Various pieces of armor glinted ruddy in the bonfire light, as the creatures rushed forward, bellowing guttural shouts of eager bloodlust, wickedly curved weapons raised high…
Scion, overcoming his strong desire to unleash armor-piercing rounds from armor he didn’t have, instead listened to the dimmly-heard voice in his mind… and let instinct take over. Drawing three throwing stars from his belt, he hurled them at the nearest creature, where they sank into the flesh of its right thigh and hip. One of the blades must have severed an artery, for with a roar of rage and pain, the beast-man stumbled, collapsing to the ground. It twitched twice before going still in a fast-spreading pool of black blood.
Artemis instinctively reached for the throwing knife at her forearm… but although both “sides” of her knew the weapon well, the alienness of this body’s reflexes unbalanced her… the blade flew past the charging creature’s head by a hair’s breadth. With a silent curse, Artemis drew the large dagger at her waist, and as the beast’s weapon flashed past her head she ducked, dove forward, and drove her own blade into its belly. With a grunt it staggered back, doubled over, blood gushing between the clawed fingers of the one hand clutched to the wound. But it was still up, and the rage in its eyes was almost palpable…
Quanta, cooly accessing the inner template he was now able to sense within his own mind, decide to take this “magic” that some of the others seemed to find so amazing, and see what it could do. Shape the Form, pour in the Power – not so unlike what he did with his own powers, really – and then let it out into the “world”… or whatever this was. Multi-colored ribbons of flame shot from his hands toward the nearest charging humanoid. But the creature jinked and dodged, and the flames splashed harmlessly on the stone wall behind it. Hmmm, this was perhaps more difficult than it had seemed at first blush…
Phantom Ace didn’t hesitate, following the silent urgings of that voice within. He’d leapt down into the arena to join his teammates once they’d established their bona fides, and he still had longbow and shaft in hand. In a fluid movement, done without thought, he nocked the arrow, pulled back to his ear, and released… the shaft drove straight into the chest of the creature rushing toward Jonny/Korwin. It dropped without a sound, dead before its body hit the ground, curved mang skittering away across the stones. It was a little disconcerting to be getting two names for everything, but Gideon thought he was getting the hang of it now…
Haplo, still too mentally distracted to use his magic, whipped out his axe and leapt to attack the gül that was engaged with Mariala. While she had gotten in a lucky blow with that fancy dagger, she surely needed the help! His blow was blocked by the wounded Hovguvai, however, with such force it almost wrenched his weapon away. Seeing its new opponent off balance, the creature attacked in turn – only to miss entirely as the mage ducked beneath its killing blow. Driving his axe in an upward stroke with all his strength, the blade bit deep into the creatures groin with a meaty thunk. It took only seconds for the shrieking monstrosity to bleed out and go silent.
The gül (and where did that word come from, Kyle wondered) that had dodged his flame attack now aimed a vicious series of blows at Quanta, who unconsciously raised the sword he carried in both hands and parried every blow almost effortlessly. Ha, no doubt his old fencing skills coming to the fore in this strange situation… the black monstrosity stepped back and began to circle him warily… he circled in turn…
Which put Quanta in the perfect position to see the results of Varan’s arcane mutterings – with a rumble the ground shook in a rolling shock wave as a huge patch of stone rose up, like a balloon suddenly expanding. In seconds a vaguely humanoid shape made of dirt and stone towered over the heroes and loosed a roar that sounded like great stones grinding against one another.
“An earth elemental!” Haplo cried out, turning from the dying gül at his feet. Perhaps if he could take out Varan with a Karmic Arrow… but the mage had vanished down the stairs as soon as his summoned minion had fully arisen. “Shit!”
Scion, disbelieving his eyes but never loosing his cool, instantly hurled another set of his shuriken at this massive apparition, almost before it had finished forming. But the metal stars merely plinked or cha-unked into the moving hill of rock and earth.
Chilz, coming out of the deep trance he’d been in for several minutes as he communed with Kasira – an actual goddess, this was SO frickin’ cool! – called on the silver thread he felt connecting him to Her. He felt Her power move down that thread and through him and out into the world – and felt the goddesses curse take hold of the shambling reject from Galaxy Quest! An actual holy curse! Hot damn!
Artemis, instantly forgetting her annoyance with Haplow’s interference – she’d have dropped the gül with her next attack, and he was lucky he hadn’t been killed himself – realized physical weapons would do little good against such a creature. Time to let this Mariala’s more arcane skills come to the fore… she relaxed and let the knowledge pour into her mind… it was very similar to the non-verbal communication she had with her cloak, truth be told…
With a shouted word and a hand gesture (overly dramatic, she couldn’t help but feel), Artemis released the energy she’d shaped – and felt it spread out to envelope the massive stone and dirt construct towering over her, fists raised. It stopped… it wavered… the arms dropped… and it toppled over with a deafening crash, and a shock wave that almost knocked them all off their feet.
Jonny had finally come to grudging terms with his new form as a damn surfer boy, and had been trying to let the body’s innate knowledge come to the front of his mind – a process suddenly accelerated when the ground had risen up in the shape of a man! Instinctively he’d begun forming a… well, a spell he supposed he’d have to call it… but by the time he sensed it was ready, the creature was already down.
Fortunately he didn’t need to let all that power go to waste… the gül that had been attacking Quanta/Devrik had been as taken aback as any of them by the appearance of the rock monster, but was again preparing to attack. Blue Flame unleashed his pent up spell of ice directly at the beast-man – and was gratified to see that the cone of frigid power was a beautiful blue. really, it was not that much different than a plasma blast. Just a lot colder.
The creature staggered under the onslaught of ice and cold, slowing it enough for Quanta to strike first. But in the excitement of the moment he overrode the instincts of the Devrik body and used his sword as if it was an épée. Which did have the advantage of being surprising – the blade slid into the beast’s gut, severing an artery and at least two vital organs.
But as is common with the gül-Hovguvai, it counter-attacked and even as it was fatally impaled, it slashed a wicked blow across Quanta’s stomach in return. The edge didn’t penetrate the armor he wore, except to score a shallow cut where front and back plates met, but the force of the blow was such that it knocked the wind out of him, and he collapsed wheezing to the ground, black whorls dancing before his eyes.
Once Chilz had used Vulk’s healing powers to revive Quanta, Haplo was finally able to get the group’s attention long enough to explain what was going on, from his perspective, and to learn who and what they claimed to be. While the others briefly debated their course of action Chilz also tended to the apparently delirious Totem/Erol, managing to get him to the point that he could at least stagger along – with just a little help from his friends.
With time growing short, Quanta cut off the debate by unilaterally going after the fleeing men. “God knows what kind of damage these Ren Faire primitives are doing to our reputations back home – and to the city!” he yelled over his shoulder as he disappeared down the stairs from the Royal Box. “I can only hope they’ll be stymied by the technology…”
Realizing that their best bet to get home was, indeed, to defeat the local villains who had brought them here – keeping them alive to reverse the process, if that was even possible – the others rushed to following their hasty teammate. Haplo paused briefly to cast Aerik’s Whisper on the sleeping elemental, then spoke a few words in it’s “ear.”
“No idea if that will work,” he muttered to himself as he hurried out of the arena. “But nothing ventured, nothing gained.”
♦ ♦ ♦
The crowds of holy night revelers showed no sign of thinning as the seven heroes raced to catch up with Laravad and his men. Quanta had paused once outside the arena, seeing the crowds of people, and now allowed Haplo to take the lead, once he joined them outside.
“I have an idea,” Quanta muttered, bringing up the rear as they shoved through the milling, drunken mass of humanity, his mind turned inward…
It took nearly half an hour, or one turn of the glass as Haplo called it, to catch up to their prey through the winding, narrow, medieval-looking streets of the city. The so-called mage, Jeriko Varan, was just crossing a short bridge over a canal when Chilz caught sight of him. Beyond the fleeing man was a large open square, absolutely packed with drunken revelers… and beyond the square was a fortress-like structure that rose up into the clear, cold night sky, several stories higher than the buildings around it.
“The Royal Keep!” Haplo called out to his companions. “If we can stop them before they reach it… well, that would make this all much easier!”
Unfortunately there were two men, very obviously soldiers or City Watch, guarding the bridge, and as they approached it was equally obvious they’d been warned against the heroes. Weapons drawn, they blocked the way forward. Artemis, missing her Shadow Cloak, sensed a silent suggestion from the Mariala instincts within… Ah, this Wallflower spell was just the thing she needed…
Scion and Haplo met the guards with their own weapons, battle axe and hand axe, only to have their initial attacks blocked. It was clear these were some of Laravad’s elite mercenaries, not the lesser fighters usually found in the City Watch. Their own attacks were blocked by the Dwarf and the mage, and it looked like it might be a long stalemate – until an arrow suddenly appeared in the left leg of one of the guard’s.
Surprisingly, the man’s partner actually died first from Vox’s attack – momentarily distracted in his own attack on Scion, he let the diminutive hero in past his guard in a lightning counter-strike. The axe blow to the face killed the man instantly. While Haplo continued to spar with the remaining guard, who seemed little discommoded by an arrow in his leg, the rest of the Hand flowed past and into Executioner’s Square.
Artemis, intensely focused on the fleeing mage Varan, snaked through the crowd with much greater ease than her target could manage – the spell she’d cast, combined with her own 150 years of experience, caused the crowds to seem to part around her. She’d bypassed the bridge guards before the fighting had even begun and now had a commanding lead on her teammates…
Her brief amusement at the expression of fear she’d glimpsed on Varan’s face when he’d turned around, scanning for pursuit, disappeared as she glanced beyond him to see Laravad and his posse mounting the steps leading to the castle gates. They paused on the highest step, apparently feeling safe so close to home, and encouraged the panting mage to hurry.
But the king’s look of relief turned suddenly to one of horror. For a moment Artemis thought he’d somehow spotted her – how long did this “enchantment” last? But she realized he was looking at something behind her… a sudden flare of reddish orange light cast her shadow starkly ahead of her, and she risked a look behind…
♦ ♦ ♦
Chilz had discovered a new ability that his Vulk-form possessed – he was able to communicate with, and even see through the eyes of, the falcon that circled above the group as they shoved their way through the streets. Cherdon, the gentle, amused, and definitely feminine voice deep within had said. The initial mind-meld with the bird had been disorienting, and he’d almost barfed… but soon enough (and with some divine help, he strongly suspected) he’d learned to deal with the double vision and was able to shout out to the others the position of their quarry ahead of them.
Once they’d arrived at the densely packed main square in front of the looming castle, it occurred to him that they’d need to thin the crowd if they hoped to catch up with this king fellow and his men. Calling down the falcon, he’d pulled the pouch he’d examined earlier from his belt, and communicated his wordless desire to the familiar.
With a harsh cry the bird had clutched the leather bag in its talons and soared up and out over the crowds… and at Chilz‘ command turned it upside down. A shower of gold and silver rained down on the north side of the square… and, as he’d hoped, people pushed forward to try and grab as much as they could. This thinned the crowds to the south somewhat, and he saw the others moving more quickly towards the palace.
He also noted that people seemed to be giving Jonny a wide berth as he shoved through the crowd, and losing quite a bit of their holiday cheer in the process… oh yeah, his friend had said something about a Cloak of Merthados spell a few minutes ago… and after he’d cast it, muttered that he finally understood what those girls in high school French class had meant when they talked about ennui. Chilz followed in his wake, but didn’t get too close.
And then the night was driven back by a sudden flare of ruddy fire light…
♦ ♦ ♦
When the group had slowed to confront the guards on the canal bridge Quanta, who had been slowly bringing up the rear as he focused his thoughts on the structure he was building in his mind and absent-mindedly guiding Totem/Erol, came to a stop. He saw the massive crowd ahead, and decided he was ready… settling his still incoherently muttering friend on a crate near some pillory stocks at the edge of the canal, he sat down cross-legged in the middle of the street before the bridge.
It had been a fascinating study in dimensional mathematics as he constructed the appropriate Form in his mind, following the template the “Devrik” persona provided while also examining it from the enlightened perspective of 21st Century quantum physics… at first he’d thought this primitive culture had somehow found a way, crude as it might be, to breach the dimensional barriers of the multiverse and draw an intelligence from an alternate plane of reality into this one.
But as he moved through the steps and structures in his mind he’d come to the realization that what they’d actually done was find a way to latch onto the alien vibrational frequencies of an extra-dimensional entity that was already in this universe and merely bring it to their current position in space-time. Impressive enough he supposed, given their apparent lack of a proper mathematical/physical model of the structure of reality, but not what he’d been excited about initially – he’d hoped to use the method to get them all home, should other methods fail them.
Still, he’d completed the mental structure, and he was relatively confident that he could “summon” such an extra-dimensional intelligence… it would be fascinating, and perhaps instructive, to speak with such a being… he might learn quite a lot, really. Plus, if it was as physically impressive as the earthen being that the man had summoned back at the arena, then it could help them in the fight that would inevitably come up… this was the Vanguard, after all…
He poured the Power into the Form…
Quanta felt a tremendous heat rush through his body and out… out to the bridge before him… and the air began to swirl and thicken, growing brighter as flames seemed to be pulled from every torch and bonfire in the Square, all congealing into a massive humanoid form that was suddenly standing over the bodies of the two downed guards.
Haplo, who had finally brought down the second guard with his Karmic Arrow attack, and then immediately rushed onward into the Square, was brought up short as he heard a tremendous whoosh of flames and felt a great heat on his back. Whirling around, he saw a huge fire elemental standing astride the bridge, the bodies of the two guards smoking and turning black beneath its feet.
He’d known Devrik was rumored to be a very powerful fire mage, a natural by all accounts, but this was staggering. It was the largest such elemental he’d ever personally seen, easily rivaling the earth elemental Varan had summoned earlier. And this one had been summoned by an alien mind merely possessing Devrik’s body – what could the mage himself do, once back in his proper place? And of more immediate concern, could this “Quanta” person now control the creature he’d managed to summon?
A question Quanta was asking himself just then. He felt the mind of the alien connected to his own, visualizing the link as a fiery rope stretching between them. But that other mind was truly alien, and for a moment he shied away… but the surge of joy it felt as his control loosened was all too human, and made him realize he had no choice. His mental grip tightened on the rope and he pulled it taut… the alien pulled against him, but its will seemed chaotic and fuzzy, while his own was sharp and focused… in a moment he’d reigned it in, and he felt it grudgingly subside, giving itself over to his control… for now.
Quanta was fascinated at this strange new mind, and the opportunities it presented. He began to probe, asking questions – what was it composed of in its native dimension? Where exactly was its native dimension? Did it have a name? Did it know how to travel between dimensions itself? But his questioning proved fruitless. There was an intelligence, or at least a consciousness of self, in the creature, but it seemed too chaotic to really communicate effectively… but maybe, given enough time…
But that time seemed unlikely to be granted him Quanta realized, as he suddenly became aware of the ground beneath him, vibrating in a rhythmic thumping, as if giant feet were stomping… leaping to his feet, he saw the rocky head of the earth elemental from the arena just over the rooftop of the nearest house. As it cleared the last street before the bridge it paused, catching sight of its fiery cousin…
It let loose with one of its stone-grinding-on-stone roars and began to lumber forward, arms outstretched as it hurled rocks at its foe. The fire elemental roared in return, a sound like a massive forest inferno, and prepared to meet the other’s rush, batting aside the stoney missiles with fiery fists.
Quanta quickly decided discretion was his wisest course just then, and he dashed across the bridge just as the earth elemental reached it. With a simply indescribable sound the two behemoths met and cracks radiated out across the bridge…
As flaming stones flew through the fire elemental and into the the Square the early-morning partiers finally realized that some serious shit was going down. Those not struck by the debris took to flight in screaming panic… in moments the vast space was cleared, save for the bodies those unfortunates trampled underfoot or struck down by burning rocks, and people simply too drunk to notice two immense elementals battling nearby.
The half dozen mercenaries that had been bearing down on the Hand from north and south were temporarily slowed by the fleeing mass of hysterical humanity, but soon enough managed to confront the heroes. Unfortunately for them, Phantom Ace had restrung Vox’s longbow, after having the string snap during the fight for the bridge… two died instantly with arrows in the chest, while a third took a shaft to the skull.
Gideon felt a little queasy as he dashed past that last one – the man was still on his feet, but wandering around in circles, looking dazed and seemingly unaware of the arrow in the left side of his skull. His right leg didn’t seem to be working properly… which was why he was staggering in circles. Well, he shouldn’t have been working for an evil dictator if he’d wanted a long, non-brain-damaged life, right?
Scion took out two more of the mercenaries with his battle axe – he was finally getting the feel for the thing. He’d have to think about working up a high-tech version if they ever got home… could be very effective in the right situations. He grinned at the thought of taking an axe to the Big Brain as he caught up to Artemis.
Artemis had stopped on the steps up to the main gate to the castle, having seen Laravad, Varan and the others disappear within shortly after the appearance of the fire elemental. Her camouflage “spell” seemed to have worn off, and there was no way she was rushing through an unknown doorway in this body… not without backup. And damn, she was actually slightly winded after such a short dash…
“Well damn,” Blue Flame said, mounting the steps himself. “Did you smell the lamb stew that one vendor was selling? It was incredible! I was hoping to maybe get the recipe, once we got this all sorted, maybe take it home to see what the guys at Krazee Burrito could do with it. But the crowds knocked the pot over in the panic…” He exhaled in a deep and wistful sigh.
Artemis and Scion exchanged a glance and just rolled their eyes.
As the others joined them on the palace steps, everyone turned to watch the two elementals battle it out on the canal bridge. The one melted and fused parts of the other, the other hurled rocks though the one, ripping outward in flaming chunks… and Quanta lingered nearby, watching in apparent fascination.
“I left a magical suggestion in the earth elemental’s sleeping mind, to wreak as much havoc as it could when it woke up,” Haplo panted to the others, still winded himself from the running and the constant string of fights. “It seemed a safe order to give a being of elemental chaos, and I figured it might provide a needed distraction… but I never imagined this…”
Suddenly they saw Quanta dash toward the elemental combatants, raising his hand in a commanding gesture – and a tiny seed of flame leaped from his hand. It grew to a sphere 7 meters across and engulfed the earth elemental, which staggered back. Its flaming cousin surged forward, flinging out its own searing attacks. But the creature of earth and stone leaned into the flames, bringing its two fists down in a mighty overhead blow that tore the fire elemental in half – if only temporarily.
But that last blow had been the final straw – even as the fire elemental reformed itself, the bridge cracked and shattered, crumbling away beneath them, dropping both elementals into the frigid water below. With an explosive hiss a massive cloud of steam engulfed the shattered remains of the bridge.
By the time Quanta made his way back to his friends the steam had cleared away enough to show that the fire elemental was simply gone… and the earth elemental was no more than a quickly vanishing pile of mud and rock, eroding under the sluggish flow of the canal.
“Hmmm… so water beats both fire and earth in this universe,” he said, more to himself than to his companions. “Good to know.”
“Well, as dramatic as that was,” Haplo said impatiently, “we need to move quickly. Given the state of the castle, much like the city itself, I doubt Laravad has many more reliable mercenaries close at hand – but he could still kill his father and barricade himself in a tower, trying to wait us out. Time is not on our side here!”
“Well, lay on, MacDuff,” Chilz said. He and Scion were both now encased in a faint golden glow, the result of his latest communion with the goddess Kasira – very cool mystical armor! He drew his own sword and brandished it dramatically. “We will not rest until this injustice is set right!”
With Artemis shaking her head, and the others mostly just grinning, the team followed Haplo into the Grand Hall of Kar Zhuran to dig out “King” Laravad II, like a rabid badger from its den…
♦ ♦ ♦
The castle was still awake, mostly… and no more sober than the rest of the city. Dinners lingered in the grand banquet hall, although more than a few were asleep in their cups, Dozens still danced in the great ballroom, to the dragging music of a clearly exhausted band. And guards still patrolled the hallways.
Despite having been warned that enemies were in the keep, the guards proved little obstacle to the Vanguard/Hand’s search of the old pile. Not finding their quarry on the ground floor, they dispatched the guards on the stairs and proceeded upward – the direction Haplo was certain the panicked ruler would run.
Th second floor proved as empty of fleeing monarchs as the first, but had rather more mercenary guards. Between Artemis‘ skill with the dagger (killing one mercenary with a single blow), and her continued use of Mariala’s Fire Nerves; Scions skillful use of Toran’s axe work; and Haplo’s Karmic Arrows (one of which took a poor guard in the groin, incapacitating him – and only making him wish he were dead) and drugged blowgun darts, it took only a few minutes to clear the way and complete their search.
Quanta suffered some injuries, however, and the brief loss of his sword, as he continued to override Devrik’s muscle memory and treat the greatsword as an épée. Eventually deciding he was more interested in the fascinating intricacies of the Devrik-form’s “magics” anyway, and inspired by both Blue Flame and Chilz, Quanta decide to attempt to actually alter the form he wore. Succeeding in properly formulating the steps of something called Immolate, he suddenly found himself composed entirely of flame!
Utterly fascinated at the new sensations he was feeling, he realized he might just gain some insights into how Jonny’s powers worked… maybe come up with some new ways for the kid to use those powers once they returned to reality. Half-abstractedly, Quanta wafted up toward the ceiling as the others headed for the stairs, seeping up to the third floor via the capillary-like network of cracks in the old stone of the castle…
It was on the third floor of the castle that the Vanguard/Hand finally cornered their badger – screaming at his men as they attempted to force open a massive ironwood door. “Hurry, you idiots! I should have killed the old fool months ago! Why did I listen to her?! Why?!”
When he saw the Hand of Fortune pouring out of the stairway, Laravad gave a shrill yelp and made a break for it. Dashing past his men, who automatically formed a wall between him and his enemies, he almost knocked his Court Arcanist aside.
“Your Majesty, wait!” called Varan, clutching at his sleeve, but the panicked usurper paid him no heed, vanishing around the nearest corner. A moment later a door slammed. Grimacing in frustration, the mage ran after his idiot employer, motioning Arket to delay the cursed “heroes” for as long as possible. He had a little surprise prepared, but he had to catch up to that fool first–”
Before he could take more than ten steps, however, he was brought up short by an apparition of smoke and flame that rose out of the floor between him and Laravad. As it took on a more solid form he recognized the fire mage, Devrik Askalan… Immortals, how he hated Askalans, the bane of his existence these days it seemed! But he had a cure for this Askalan, he thought with a malicious inward grin…
Before the man of living flame could take a step, Varan gestured at him and a cone of silvery blue energy flashed out from his hands, freezing the very air between them and engulfing the fire mage in a cloud of pure cold. Devrik staggered back, his flame form flickering wildly for an instant before vanishing, leaving a slightly stunned but entirely living human body in its place.
Cursing darkly – that had been his most powerful casting ever of Breath of Arandu, it should have killed the bastard instantly – Varan dashed past his distracted foe and out the door after his wayward ruler.
“We don’t have time for this,” Artemis said in exasperation as the rest of the team faced the wall of heavily armed mercenaries blocking their way. She gestured in the way she was becoming accustomed to, creating the Form and releasing the Power almost without conscious thought.
Kinthol Arket was just raising his longsword to attack when every nerve in his body suddenly felt like it was in contact with a red-hot iron. He spasmed so sharply he heard, dimly through the searing pain, his spine crack. The sword dropped from suddenly twitching fingers, and he dropped to the ground along with all six of his men, writhing in agony.
“You’re getting really good at that, Artemis,” Blue Flame said, stepping past her to look down at the twisting forms on the floor and brushing the horrible blond hair from his face. “I think I’m getting the hang of this magic stuff myself – watch this!”
Summoning up Korwin’s muscle memory and the psychic stamp left on this body’s brain, Jonny took only a minute or so to cast the Strands of Lakira. Webs of glowing white energy flowed from his hands, and as he gestured back and forth they began to wrap around the writhing men. Wherever they touched they seemed to cling, including to walls and floor. In seconds all the mercenaries, and their commander, were bound helplessly in place.
“That should hold them even after that fire-thing of yours wears off. Long enough for us to deal with their little king, anyway.”
With one of her slight smiles, Artemis led the others around the immobilized mercenaries and out the door Laravad, Varan and Quanta had used moments earlier. The team found itself outside, on what she estimated much be the roof of the grand ballroom… faint strains of music wafted up through the frigid air. A stone walkway and chest-high battlements surrounded an expanse of weathered wood on three sides, with the main tower of the castle rising on the fourth side, from which they had just stepped.
Laravad was almost to the farthest corner of the space, brandishing a magnificent-looking sword before him – at his own wizard! Jeriko Varan was trying desperately to calm his hysterical monarch, while glancing apprehensively over his shoulder at their gathering enemies.
“Laravad, please, listen to me! I can get us out of this, get us away – but you must let me–”
“No!” shrieked the usurper, spittle flying from lips drawn back in a feral snarl. “I see it all now! You’re in league with them!” His sword flicked briefly toward the now cautiously approaching Hand. “You’re in this together… planned this all along… to humiliate me… to take me prisoner and seize my throne! I know that’s what your vile mistress wants, to rule over every land! Well you won’t take my throne, you traitor!”
He slashed wildly at his would-be advisor, backing away from the man and breathing heavily. Varan began to move forward, hands outstretched somewhere between pleading and a desire to strangle, only to be hit in the back by Artemis‘ latest blast of Fire Nerves.
He staggered around to face this new threat, his own arcane power already dampening the pain, only to be faced with Devrik in his flame form once again. Before the Vortex mage could do more than gape, Quanta landed a powerful, burning roundhouse punch to his head, spinning him two-thirds around and dropping him like a puppet with its strings cut.
Racing past the downed mage, whose face was already beginning to blister as his hair smoked, Haplo approached the now seemingly fully mad ruler. He was backed into the corner where the battlements met, with no way out except a three-story drop to icy stone.
“Laravad… your Highness… if you’ll just let us–” Haplo barely dodged the swift blow aimed at his head, taking it instead on the forearm as he raised his dagger to block. The sharp pain of the cut across his arm and an uneven board beneath his foot as he pedaled backward sent him sprawling. Laravad’s eye’s gleamed with bloodlust and he raised his blade again…
Before the crazed royal could follow up, however, he was struck twice – first by a cross-bow bolt from Toran, which pinged off the plate greave protecting his thigh; and again, an instant later, by a longbow shaft from Vox. This shaft pierced the armor at Laravad’s left shoulder, sending him staggering back against the battlement.
Strangely, the wound seemed to actually calm Laravad somewhat, the hysterical tinge vanishing from his voice, and a cold, hard light coming into his eyes. He ignored the shaft sticking out of his body, and raised his sword in a defensive posture.
“I warn you, you’ll never take me alive,” he snarled at the arc of foes before him. “And I promise to take as many of you with me as I can! But it need not come to that, even now. Perhaps we can reach an… accommodation. I can be a generous master, when the mood takes me. Join with me, and we… we…”
His eyes suddenly rolled up in his head, and the soon-to-be-ex-king dropped bonelessly to the walkway, sword clattering musically on the stones.
The others all looked around in surprise to see Artemis/Mariala on the far side of the roof, a little pale and rubbing her temples. “I was in no mood for a monologue… and this magic stuff is really rather fatiguing. I wasn’t sure how much more this body had in it, so it seemed best to simply end things.”
This pronouncement was followed by a sudden silence on the freezing rooftop as it sank in that it was over, at least for the moment. Haplo was the first to recover, as it occurred to him that they’d just created a power vacuum – if they didn’t act quickly, things in Zhuran could get very ugly, very fast.
“We have to free King Balen before anything,” he said, helping Toran… no, Scion… damn, this was confusing… carry the unconscious usurper back into the castle. Devrik… Quanta… whoever, hefted the singed Vortex mage over his shoulder and followed on their heels.
Inside Laravad’s mercenaries were just beginning to recover from their recent encounter with Fire Nerves, to find that they couldn’t move more than a few centimeters, being bound up in some sort of sticky, faintly glowing white webs. Arket glared venom at the group as they strolled past him, struggling futilely against the restraints.
Haplo found Vulk… Chilz… by Shala, he really needed to get the Hand back into their proper bodies… any way, whoever was operating Vulk’s body was standing at the door Laravad’s men had been trying to break down, attempting to coax someone on the other side to unlock it. It took several minutes, and a judicious use of Abon’s Authority, but eventually the young page was induced to unbar the way.
Inside a very frail looking old man lay in the middle of a large, canopied bed. Haplo was shocked at the sight. King Balen was only 47 years old, he knew, but this man looked to be closer to 80… and not a healthy 80, either. His brown hair had gone entirely white, and his eyes were sunk in dark pits. But for all that the man seemed alert and in his right mind…
“You Majesty, we have… subdued… your son and his closest minions,” Haplo said, going to one knee and bowing low. “But the mercenary forces he controlled remain, many of them in the city. We need to – that is, what are your Majesty’s orders?”
Balen pulled himself upright, the young page rushing to help him and put pillows behind him so he could reclined against the massive carved headboard. His voice was surprisingly strong, coming from such a frail frame.
“I am grateful for your service, ser, but might I know who, exactly, you are who have done this deed?”
Haplo quickly introduced himself and the others, glossing over the complicating issue of possession and dual identities for the moment. Between them they managed to give the rightful – or at least legitimate – King of Tharkia a concise precis of the nights events, again leaving out some of the more arcane details. When they had finished the king had sunk back into his pillows, a look of deep grief on his face.
“So, the foolish boy finally decided he had to kill me… I never met this “Madame Vortex” he kept going on about, but it was obvious that she was the puppet master behind his treason, if not his growing insanity. I also knew she was the reason I was kept alive, although I could never decide why she wished it… perhaps as an additional lever on Laravad?
“He may have thought so, and while he wouldn’t, or maybe couldn’t, disobey her… well, I think he found a way around that. Someone has been slowly poisoning my food for months now… once I realized it, almost too late, I enlisted young Gavin here to help me.” The page blushed and suddenly found something fascinating to examine on the floor.
“He has been my loyal servant in my imprisonment, and he began bringing me clean food, and helping me dispose of the poisoned fare, for awhile now. I don’t think the cooks know anything about the poison, for they never stay to watch me eat it…” With an effort of will, Balen threw off his morbid thoughts and turned to more pressing matters.
“You are quite right, young Ser Haplo, we must act quickly if we are to seize back control of the realm. Tell me, have you any word on my daughter, Princess Relina? I know from young Gavin that she escaped her brother’s assassins on the night of the coup, along with her husband, Captain Masadin and some of my loyal Royal Guards, whom he commanded… but we’ve heard no more since…”
“I’m sorry, Sire,” Haplo frowned. “I’m afraid I’ve heard nothing in the month I’ve been at Court… nothing more than whispered rumors, and a dozen of those, all conflicting.”
“Damn. Well, the next step is obvious, with or without the Princess – we must contact the Baron Gevdan and acquaint him with the current situation. He was the only one of my vassals that Laravad and this Vortex organization failed to either suborn or take by surprise. I know he has held out at Kar Gevdan since the Crown Prince’s treason, and been quite a thorn in his side, too. Controlling Tharkia’s only major port was, at the very least, a major inconvenience to my rebel son.”
Between the king and Haplo, enough loyal (and relatively sober)servants and fighters were rounded up over the next two hours to usher the remaining Kristala Va celebrants out of the castle, acquaint the few remaining mercenaries and Laravad loyalists with the dungeons, and close the gates. There were too few soldiers to properly man the castle, but riders has been dispatched to the Baron Gevdan before all else. “If he’s half the man I know him to be, he’ll be here with all the forces at his command by the end of the Unicorn Watch today,” the king assured his rescuers.
“And with almost the entire city, including most to the Watch and the men-at-arms, suffering hangovers, there should be very few awake before then to offer resistance.” Haplo grinned in anticipation… he had a few illusions he could try, to ease the Baron and his men into the city, if the need arose…
Once the castle had been made as secure as possible, Haplo knocked on the door to the Kings Chamber. Gavin let him in with a shy smile. The stench of his traitorous son still lingering in the room, despite the servant’s hurriedly removing all physical signs of him, Balen had nonetheless insisted on reclaiming them as his own immediately. Despite the late – or rather very early – hour the restored king sat at his desk, signing orders and reading what reports he had on the state of his realm.
“Sire, we are as secure as we can be for the moment,” Haplo began, once the formalities were dispensed with. “I’m afraid, however, there is an urgent matter that I and the Hand of Fortune must deal with now… a loose end left over from the magical attack at the arena last night.”
“Ah, that sounds ominous,” the king smiled wearily. “But I can hardly deny that you all seem to know what you’re doing. Certainly, you have my permission to leave the castle and attend to this business, as you see fit, ser. Will it be dangerous, tying up this loose end of yours?”
“I… hope not, your Majesty,” Haplo said with a grimace. “But with magic you just never know…”
♦ ♦ ♦
It was the hour before dawn, at the tail end of the Cat Watch, when the Vanguard and their new friend Haplo returned to the old arena. A section of the structure had collapsed since they’d last seen it around midnight – no doubt as a result of the earth elemental making its own exit.
Scrambling over the rubble, they viewed the open expanse before them. No sign of the sigils of the Greater Wards remained to be seen. Artemis turned to Totem/Erol and raised an inquiring eyebrow.
“I/We should be able to do it, don’t worry,” the shaman/gladiator/mage said wearily. The team had recovered him from the spot on the edge of Execution Square where Quanta had left him, guarded by Grover and Cherdon. In the intervening time he had managed to come to some sort of understanding with all the various personas in his/their head(s), and learned to cope, somewhat, with the double vision of two very different realities.
“They’re ready on the other side, and Raven is prepared to work with Faerendol to recreate the framework… it won’t be the same as whatever the hell that cobbled-together nightmare of Avira’s was, but it should do the trick.”
As an afterthought he added, “Although I doubt the experience itself will be any more pleasant.”
As Totem/Erol/Raven/Faerendol/etc. made their preparations, the rest of the Vanguard/Hand gathered around Haplo.
“I don’t know how much of what we did tonight will be remembered by our hosts, once we all return to our proper bodies,” Scion said to the young illusionist. ” But you, and we, will remember. And if you should ever happen to find your way to our world… or time… or dimension… know that you’ll always have friends there, and will be welcome.”
For the last few minutes Haplo answered as many questions about his world as he could, mostly coming from Quanta and Artemis. But all too soon, Totem/Erol indicated that he/they were ready, and everyone took their places in the ghost-like echoes of the Wards that had appeared on the arena floor, and the shaman/mage began to chant…
