Warren Whittaker stood on an airship carrier, waiting for the Wanshi blockade to break. He gazed over the side of the gigantic ship, listening to the creaking of steel and the lap of waves against deep green sides. Wearing his helm, he saw clearly through the conjured metal to the distant Wanshi ships bobbing several knots away. In the last report, the soldiers of the great empire were playing Go and eating steaming white rice and pickled vegetables. It seemed a lot better than his breakfast, which was a dry sausage patty, a couple of massive starchy biscuits, and an overly salty gravy that couldn’t compare to his father’s. He gave away his muffin to a private that was barely eighteen. The kid still had zits on his chin. They had really rushed out the recruits to sit on ass and fill the Magi military ships.

There were others here too, Grunhir long boats, the sleek elvish ships of Aayen G’ld, dwarven metal behemoths from Henkdrek Dalk, Clockwork dreadnaughts, and the Manoware cruisers. The last ones were especially interesting to observe. As an island nation, their ships were smaller and faster. On the sides of them were blocky and colorful paintings of their highest gods, Plaka-hine and Havo-taene. The wife made the many fish of the seas and her husband swung his fishing pole about causing storms. There was also Motu-tangata, the island maker. The sand skinned god took flesh from his belly and rolled it like dough and plastered it onto the sea. He squeezed volcanos, shaping the many black sand islands that dotted the seas as well. Out of the magma came his Nohonga-wahine, the beautiful goddess with shining obsidian skin.

The boats of Manoware people bore their majestic gods as murals, whizzing past and kicking up waves. Atop of them were the brown skinned men and women in their sleeveless navy uniforms, waving as they hung off the railings. Seeing them and their boats, Warren could only think of the hurricane that nearly hit Grayhill.

The Paladin had never seen a hurricane that size diverted. As a show of good faith, the Manoware sea Druids sometimes gathered together to move small sea storms off the marshland of his home. Since the refugee Ash Makers had moved into the Dry Isles, many had expanded out into the hundreds of miles of swamp. Those met in those storms that had stuck with him the most. His whole life, his father bad mouthed the Heroes, passing down hate that his father had given him. Warren didn’t believe it fully until Angelina and the rest showed their true faces. To think, he had saluted that asshole lycanthrope. The “Guardian.” If the world knew he was a person eating monster, they’d tear all the monuments down and spit on them.

The princess though, he respected her and that Traveler. Warren had moved to the Magi kingdom when he was twenty three, heartbroken and miserable. Becoming a guardsman was easy and helped him forget all that he left behind. He had watched Diana grow up through the papers, and grew disgusted at the cruel names for her. Then meeting her, he knew that papers hadn't been honest enough about her adulthood. She was a sharp kid, and tough as nails, it was a shame she had to play by Angelina’s rule. Her boy was a lucky one. Those looks she gave him, Warren wished he could find some like that. Again, at least.

“Captain!” came the cracking voice of a young man.

A trained soldier, Warren didn’t start out of his thoughts, turning to the same face he had given his muffin to earlier. The boy put his fists together, inclining his fuzzy crew cut.

“At ease, Jonn,” Warren said softly.

“This came for you, sir,” the boy said, holding a rolled parchment in his hands, thumbs pressed firmly against it.

“Thank you,” he said, breaking the royal seal.

It was an offer to protect the princess, of all the things to get. He read it and quickly agreed. The rolled up parchment vanished back into the air.

Then Warren received another a few hours later, his father gloating that he had got him the position. It was supposed to be a day until he was needed, but another came from the king, a Wizard would be there to open a Door for him. Suddenly, Warren was having to wish all his men farwell, though he couldn’t say where he was going, only that it was a secret mission.

They were sad to see him go, but not jealous, they liked sitting on ass a little too much. The only frustrated soul was his cousin Sammy, who he had made the mistake of telling the truth. She followed him around as he packed, asking why he was going and she wasn’t.

He threw his duffle bag over his shoulder, ducking his head as he left his officer’s quarters. Sammy kept following him, her halberd catching on the ship’s doorframes. She needed to secure it better. Neither of them should really be here, they couldn’t even fire standard guns. Like the recruits, they were filling up space, supposedly protecting their homeland.

The night time deck of the ship was empty, save the airships and watch. Bright green lights flashed from the electric bulbs that lined the railings. They cast an eerie glow out onto the black sea and the mist rising up from it. Sammy stomped after him, dropping the pretense of a soldier. She was a Sergeant, Secondary Paladin, not an Officer like him. They had been stationed in Detention’s base before this, a wonderful port town where she found a girl. Now they were sent all over with the war on.

“Are you sure you don’t need me too, Warren?” Sammy asked, then halted, glancing around.

He squinted at the feminine version of his own face. The hard nose bridge and brow. She even had his wide jaw. “Are you fucking stupid?” he asked.

She shook her head, ponytail whipping about. “No, I ain’t, and I don’t like you saying that,” she said, huffing. “You know why we’re here, both of us.”

“Serve your time and you’ll get out,” Warren said with a grin. “I know you ain’t stupid, and I’ll miss you cuz.”

They embraced, their armor clanking together.

“Correct your damn weapon, it’s gonna hit someone,” he said, holding her shoulders.

Behind him was the sound of swinging hinges. On the deck stood an ornate golden door filled with all the complex equations it took to transport multiple people at once. Each of the problems were set into circles, as according to the Wizard’s preference. From out the door came the clear shine of an elven afternoon. Holding the knob was a woman of undefinable age in a pointed hat and short midnight blue robes. She beckoned for Warren.

“Looks like one of my dreams with Bekah,” Sammy remarked.

“She’s not my partner in this position,” he said, looking around the Wizard to see someone sitting in the grass of some shore.

“The court Mage, eh?” Sammy said with a sly smile. “Can you fix a broken girl?”

“You’ve been readin’ too many gossip mags,” he said, rustling his cousin’s hair.

“Damnit, you mussed it all up,” she grumbled.

“Take care, Sammy!” He slapped her shoulder, moving towards the Door.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t forget to write and all that shit…”

The tug of teleportation over such a great distance wasn’t the worst that Warren had ever felt. This Wizard was pretty good, he thought. They stood on the edge of an elven forest and river. Sunlight sparkled off the water as it flowed along lazily. The road of white stone they stood on shone brightly, the long diamond patterns were outlined by deep cuts of black.

Laying on the street, groaning, was his new partner, the tiny albino Rose. She held her knees to her chest, nearly contained in her long burgundy coat. She looked up at him with solid pearl pupils that caught the light with a flicker, furrowing her white brows. His body shaded her from the sun, and she laid out on her back, as if she were going to sleep.

“She’s not as practiced,” the Wizard said through thought. “Your father told the queen not to worry about you with her…” She looked down at the woman and her shabby pajama shirt and shorts. “Ms. Rose, you need to get up now… I’m sure that my transportation has not been that damaging to you.”

“I shouldn’t’ve ruddy agreed, I’m not cut out for this,” Rose whined, in a much deeper voice and accent than Warren had heard for the Mage.

“Do you want to return with me, Miss Rose?” asked the Wizard.

“No, I can’t go back there…” She rolled on her side.

On her legs were the pitiful remains of her bindings. The white wrappings were sparse, frayed, going up her legs and around her feet, but nowhere else. He had read quite a few articles on the twin court Mages, the last one saying that they both retired and split up. Over ten years of service gone within a day. He was also keenly aware of her role in that relationship.

“Don’t worry, miss, I’ve got her handled,” Warren said. “Thank you kindly for bringing us here.”

The Wizard nodded with a tip of her hat’s brim. “Here you are then, sir, a dedicated heart tracker for Miss Diana,” she said, setting a token within his hand. They both watched the rapid heartbeat dance across it. “That doesn’t appear good…”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“No, it doesn’t,” he said. “It’s my problem now, thank you.”

“Yes, I must return to my duties,” the Wizard said.

“I didn’t catch your name, Miss,” he said, putting out his hand.

She took it with a firm enough shake, for a Wizard at least. “I am Helena Scribira, the new Court Mage for the Magi kingdom,” she said with a measured smile on her thin lips. “Take care, Warren Whittaker, you too Miss Rose Shettfield.” With a bow, a Door opened up behind her and she stepped through it.

Sighing at the retired Court Mage, Warren set his hand on the road. A circle the size of a dessert plate cut into the stone surface, outlined by thorny vines. The rune full of equations summoned a spectral falcon from its glowing surface. The small golden bird twitched its head about as it landed on his finger. He showed it the token, and it listened to the heart beat for a few seconds, getting a sample. Squawking, it flew off towards the city in the distance. He had to get closer to it soon, Alpha was famous for its interference.

The Paladin focused back on Rose. “I don’t have time to fuck around, so either follow me or lay here and get trampled by the traffic,” Warren said firmly.

Rose glanced around the empty road, Alpha wasn’t known for its high volume of visitors. The lazy Sorceress made Warren uncommonly angry and he whistled for his Stallion so loud it made her cover her ears. Beside him came his horse of solid form with gold and silver paint spots, its eyes glowing brightly yellow. He wrapped the coat around Rose’s midsection, throwing her up behind the saddle. In the middle of this, she awoke from her pity party, flailing her limbs around like a cat.

“Don’t you fuckin’ manhandle mah, mate!” she snarled, bursting out of his grip. She floated a few feet off the ground, glaring at him. Some of her colorless hair stuck out from her braid and her nostrils flared.

“Good, ya can fly, now follow me,” he said, hoisting himself onto the horse.

She wavered in the air, holding onto the trim of the saddle. It seemed her small hand was a shame to her. He didn’t blame her for carrying guilt, but her magic was all willpower and confidence. Both visibly low within her.

“Go ahead and hold on if you need to,” he said with a chuckle. “The princess isn’t having a good time. You want to protect her, don’t ya?”

Rose flushed, holding onto the saddle with both hands now.

“Hold on tight,” he told her, smiling.

She wouldn’t look at him.

Pushing into the beast’s sides, the Stallion started off in a galop. Rose gripped tightly as she screamed. Flying horizontally over the horse’s ass, she bashed her hips into its rump. Damn, she was going to take some work, Warren thought.

Within moments they were on the long steps before the great Demon War gates, which loomed tall and mighty over them. Warren was on his own two feet before he reached the docks. He caught many of the dock workers blinking at the sight of the vanishing horse. They most likely knew what a Paladin’s mount was, but their wary looks after he started moving up the steps meant they had something to hide. Rose padded after him, struggling to catch up with his long strides.

His falcon sent him a message, it had found the princess, she was in the sewers with others. Putting on his open eyed helm of Psyin, Warren turned and picked up Rose by the waist. She fought him again, but he held on firmly this time.

“Quit yer yapping, I need to get us into this city quickly!” he snapped back at her. “She’s in the damn sewers, running around in a panic.”

The Sorceress of the Chained god was suddenly still at that. “How?” she asked calmly. “I guess I could fly over the gates…” She gazed up, craning her neck back. “Not with yew though.”

“They’re warded against that,” he said out the side of his mouth, his other hand weaving a spell.

One of the guards beside the gate yawned, heading over towards the two people apparently trying to get in. Finishing his prayer just as the elvish man approached, Warren set his hand on the guard’s unarmored neck. A replica of his diadem formed under the man’s helmet, driving incorporeal spikes into the elf’s mind. The bored elf was rather easy to break mentally. His eyes were blank and wide.

“We don’t have to worry about any customs or greetings,” Warren suggested, his voice taking on a ghostly echo. “We’re unimportant guests that are in a hurry.” Rose shuddered, but when he looked she glanced away. Good, he was sure he hadn't affected her by mistake.

The elf guard nodded, gesturing to the door behind him. “Right this way, sir,” he said. Moving away from the Paladin, he opened the side entrance to the city with a key.

Ducking his head, Warren walked in with Rose still in his arm. The helmet cut down the glare when they exited on the other side, but she grimaced at the bright dawn light of the city. He released her and she hovered in midair, more stable than before.

Still squinting, she referred to the closed door, then to him. “Would that guy do anythin’ for yah?” she wondered, an oddly excited look on her face.

Warren straightened out his duffle bag. “Within reason,” he said.

“Hm…”

The Paladin whistled, bringing back his horse. “Situation ain’t got any better,” he said, atop his stallion.

This caused Rose to waver.

“Ya can’t take back the past, but ya can change the future,” he said, offering his hand to her.

She screwed her eyes up, her jaw working. “Just go, I’ll follow yah,” she said quietly.

In the depths of the sewer, his arm aching, tongue dry, lungs burning and head pounding, Jonah had only one thought, Follow the moth. They had, for the last few minutes, as he ushered along the twins beside him. Their steps were stumbling and they nearly fell several times. He held onto their collars like his grandma had done for him as a much smaller child. He wasn’t that strong, but they weren’t that small. They looked far more haggard than him, he had taken a whole three naps today and he would need another after this.

After, he stressed to himself. There was always something after. Church was running too long, the preacher was mind numbingly boring. After he got to eat Sunday dinner, his grandmother would prepare something or they would go out and get burgers. He might even get a toy with his meal. The ball pit, crawling through those colorful tunnels.

Oh God, he was trying to escape to another world again. This world wasn’t so wonderful and fantastical now, he wanted out. The most he had been stressed out was school or that pit of a house. Before coming to Hera that was. He thought back to all the majesty he’d seen in this world of magic, now there were equal memories of horror.

No, no, he still had Diana and this was a good thing they were doing. He’d feel so much better after. When that white moth led them finally out of here. These kids, they had worse, they were relying on him. After was when he could escape. He could relax with Diana, he could sleep on a bed of heather again.

Holy shit this place smelled awful. The water was supposed to be cleaned out by the pipes, but a swamp smelled just as bad as a sewer.

There was the falcon again, ever escaping the Nymphs. No, wait, the bird was to his side. That golden light with its pinkish hue was…

“Oh thank the gods! A ladder!” Diana cried beside him, coughing.

The Nymphs were gathering around the ladder and the opening to the outside world. They wanted to block the couple and the young Ash Makers from leaving. Three Nymphs went tumbling back through the reeds as a black coated figure landed with a heavy thud on the ground. Straightening up, Jonah laughed with joy and hoarsely at the sight of the burly Warren Whittaker standing there with his helm on. From his belt he drew his daggers and bellowed an elvish word the translator said was, “Phantom!” The blades of his weapons turned from solid etched steel to a ghostly gray, translucent and smokey. In a flash of movement, he drove them through necks and hearts in neat thrusts at the Nymphs blocking their path. The blades slid through them, blooming out the other side. They fell to the ground with no visible wounds but a lightly smoking echo where the blade had touched them.

“Excuse me ladies, gentlemen, coming through, coming through,” Warren remarked. His great big boot slid the unconscious bodies of the Nymphs back through the reeds into the swamp. “Diana, Jonah, nice to see ya again.” He inclined his head, his black hole eyes scanning the three gray coated figures they were helping. The blonde twins stared up at him with awe. Without a moment's pause, he sheathed his weapons which caused a puff of smoke at the scabbard. He guided them along, blocking any further assault with his body.

They were at the ladder, finally, staring up at Kalyah who offered both her arms down. It was a fifteen foot climb and her tiny limbs were far away. Jonah, playing a true Hero, guided the twins to the ladder, encouraging them to climb before him. He tried to pick them up and help them along, but they were going terribly slow and he didn’t have the strength.

There was a clap of metal, and Warren was behind him. In the air was a golden wall of force made of fractal patterns. It blocked them in, causing Diana and her tiger bearing Chiru to squeeze up against the stone wall by the ladder. Great gushes of water thudded off the ward, but it held firmly.

“It’ll block bullets, so don’t worry,” Warren said, holding up his hands. His prayer pose was held by a wrap of twisting gold brambles. The water became ice and his thorny diadem glowed. “It’s about all I can manage at the moment, but I got it.”

Diana looked at the raging Nymphs. “I will have to make amends for this…” she breathed.

“Honey, stop, I’ll come down and get you,” Kalyah said, starting to climb down.

Susan was barely a few feet up, staring up into the sunlight. Her brother and Jonah were helping her, pushing from below. Water was starting to find its way over the tall force wall. Warren grumbled a prayer, increasing the height of the wall.

“Rose, I know you’re up there, help us!” Warren roared up the ladder.

All was silent for a moment. Through the light a figure came floating down. Jonah blinked, reminded of superheroes flying in to save the day. He had never known a superhero to be barefoot or wearing a baggy pajama shirt, shorts and a massive coat, or one to have such full legs.

“Wut the fuck? Ash Makers?” the hovering Rose said, furrowing her white brows.

Diana scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Oh gods…”

“They’re kids, you eejit, now pick them up and carry them out! Yer here to help Diana and Jonah, and this is their job, so that means it’s yours too!” Warren yelled loudly.

A splash of water hit Rose and she turned towards the Nymphs with fury. Behind her, the wall erupted into chains, the stone eaten away to form them. Besides her, Kalyah shrieked as the ladder was nearly consumed in the process.

“Focus!” Warren barked.

Turning from the offending creatures, the chains wrapped around all three of the Ash Makers, Aiko included, manacles clamping down on each limb. The source of the chains dragged up the wall, stone transmuted to steel. Rose rocketed up through the manhole cover, the three people and the tiger following her, the familiar going slack with wide eyes. Kalyah yelped, flattening herself against the ladder, which survived the ordeal. Jonah stumbled back into Warren, who held strong in his place.

“She’s such a fool without her brother,” Diana said angrily.

“She’ll learn,” Warren said. “Go on, hurry.” He jerked his head up the ladder.

Diana limped forward and Jonah helped her onto it. “Kalyah, can you carry Diana? She hurt her leg,” he asked up. The Druid thanked the strong Pixie and him.

Every wrung was pain, but Jonah made it up and Warren made it up last.

Finally, it was after, and they could breathe fresh air again.