With all of the beautiful forest cleared of green fog, Alan was forced to look to the sky. His map told of an incoming threat – a formation of warriors seeking Yineera’s Peg, no doubt.

He turned to the giant suit of armor at his side. “I think it’s time you meet my Borai.” He took out his coin.

“What is your strategy here, Sir Keeper?” Gardstrife asked.

“To puff my chest as best I can and hope they go away. They’re coming in too fast to run from, unless you tell me I can hop on your back as you strike trees at lightning speed until you’re blue in the face.”

“I do not recommend mortals travel at my striking speed.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Alan flipped the coin far away from him, covering his face when a flash of lightning turned into Yogi-Shontier.

The Borai spread both of his hind legs and flexed his arms. “Noble Alan. What must I pummel? Him?” He pointed to Gardstrife. “A possessed suit of armor. How evil. I will make quick work like I did the Yero—”

As much as Alan wanted to let Yogi keep talking, he waved his arms before things got out of hand. “Yogi, meet Gardstrife. Gardstrife, Yogi. You’re both on the same side – mine.”

“Greetings. I am not evil. I am a dutiful former Patrolgod of Hozzod.”

“Hozzod! You are misinformed. They are evil folk indeed. I have dealt with one – Farante Del Sol. Alan is infinitely more noble.”

“I agree. Our keeper is noble.” Gardstrife nodded.

“Yes.” Yogi nodded back.

“Yes.” Gardstrife nodded again.

“Okay! Now that we’ve found common ground, look intimidating,” Alan said as the formation became visible overhead. He considered unleashing the Five Pearls to orbit him but thought again. Such a move might be received in bad taste. Whoever was coming might seek revenge for him for all Alan knew.

“Here they come.” Alan gritted his teeth.

Gryphon-type creatures with long banners draped over each side soared down to their location. Each was mounted by a warrior, the head of which pointed a flagged spear toward Alan.

“Shall I strike, keeper?” Strife sharpened his blade-arms.

“Hold.” Alan drew Blood Edge.

Woosh!

The gryphons flapped their wings in unison – creating one momentous gust that stopped them all mere feet from crashing to the ground. Wind and dust washed over Alan, and when it cleared, a majestic bunch awaited him. Each warrior’s stature was military-straight, and their armor spoke of great accomplishment.

“I told you the long banners were a bad idea!” one of the warriors called from the back. “Now my squire will have to train in laundry rather than duels.”

“Quiet!” the head warrior called, then cleared his throat. “Greetings.”

“Uh, hi.” Alan relaxed his stance.

“I am Elkire Stelmont, principle spearman of this lot.” He hopped off the gryphon and extended a hand to create a staircase of air to step down on. The wind he conjured was visible and grey. Alan wondered what type of Saro commanded that. “See my Title as proof.”

Alan looked over Elkire’s head, where Spear Captain of the Sky was displayed.

“Very good,” Alan played along. “I am Alan Right, and these are my two friends-slash-bodyguards – Yogi and Gardstrife. How can we help you?” He eyed a rolled up map in Elkire’s belt that looked identical to Alan’s. “Ah, I think I have an idea.”

Elkire put his hands on his hips, then snapped his fingers for the other eight warriors to dismount. “We worried the Forbidden Merchant had gone mad, you see. His path is always through the thickest shrouds to go from one forbidden shop to the next. My brethren and I thought it quite odd to see the Peg traveling leisurely through the Green.”

“Oh, there was nothing leisure about it,” Alan assured, pointing to all the cut down trees on his account.

Elkire hooted. “I see. Well, allow me to introduce my brethren.”

“I hate that term!” a female warrior with two swords crossed at her back yelled. “I’m full of curves not seen on a thousand brothers!”

“Quiet, Irana. It is simply for convenience.” Elkire scoffed. “As you can see, we are a group ripe with personality. Anyhow. We are the Legion of Fate.”

“Jerk wanted to name us Legion of Peggers,” another warrior with a whip wrapped around his armor shouted.

Alan nearly spat. “I think the settled name is more appropriate.”

“Mm. The majority is with you.” Elkire sized up Alan’s minions.

“So, uh, what does the Legion of Fate do, exactly?” Alan stuck Blood Edge in the ground to get Elkire’s attention.

“We seek alliance with other Peg holders, in hopes to one day unite them in a fair and just way. In addition, we employ Stone Chasers to coach us on the understandings of our treasures.”

“Those blokes and lassies are bloody mad!” Whip-man leaned on his gryphon’s head, rubbing its fur and clearly annoying it.

“Yeah, they suffer a lot of questions without answers,” Alan called back, then turned to Elkire. “Your group sounds friendly enough to me. Yogi, Strife, do you sense anything out of the norm?”

Yogi bent forward and sniffed Elkire, causing him to lean back uncomfortably. “He is clean of darkness.”

“I concur.” Strife crossed his blade-arms behind his back.

“Excellent.” Elkire got to his tiptoes as he said it. “Gather round, gang. Let us put together our minds and come to a hopeful understanding.”

The guy with the whip used his gryphon’s head to flip off and saunter over. “Tenger Tanks. Nice to meet you, Alan.”

“Irana.” She was more standoffish.

The others all greeted in their own way from the back.

“So, before we get into it. I must ask the question racking all of our brains.” Elkire paced. “What happened to the Merchant of the Five Pearls?”

“Slain,” Alan said matter-of-factly to a row of gasps. “He tried to deceive my group and drag us under, so to speak. And… we prevailed.”

Elkire eyed Alan curiously. “That Merchant… was not someone who would’ve went down easy. His arsenal alone… good graces.”

Alan didn’t know what to say. He’s been touted as a future Herald of Ojin, and Lucius is a damn prince. Elkire was waiting for something, so Alan decided to reveal a bit more.

“Are you allies of Hozzod?” Alan asked, and as soon as he did, hands went to hilts. “Whoa. Whoa.”

“We are not, and never will be, allied with Hozzod,” Elkire’s tone changed completely.

“Alright, well that’s good, because Hyndole is the one who forced us down this path. Said he’d start a war with the realms if I didn’t either join his side or find my way out of them.”

The entire group exhaled with relief.

“Why you?” Elkire narrowed his eyes.

“Because Alan is noble.” Yogi pointed at him threateningly.

“I’m not sure that alone warrants the end of the universe.” Elkire arced an eyebrow.

“He believes I may one day be a force to contend with,” Alan said vaguely.

“In what way, lad?”

“A Herald of Ojin.”

The others whispered to one another, except for Tenger, who took a step forward, head tilted.

“If you ask me, Elky, this guy right here is a much better keeper of Yineera’s Peg then that creepy bastard.”

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“Thanks, I think.” Alan smirked.

“Not if his story doesn’t check out.” Irana narrowed her eyes. “Was Five Pearls an oddity? Yes. Does that make him evil? It certainly does not.”

“I have a question for you, then, Irana. What does the name Yineera mean to you?” Alan asked.

She scoffed. “The one who made it home. Everyone knows the tale.”

“What if I told you it was all a lie?” Alan challenged.

“Then we’d be cutting off coin to some of our Stone Chasers.” Tenger bark-laughed. “And Gryger would’ve been exiled for nothing.”

“Gryger?” Alan asked.

“A man who attacked Five in hopes for the shortcut home.” Elkire bowed in shame. “Not my proudest captain’s moment.”

“I see. It isn’t easy managing those with a strong pull to their Origins,” Alan said.

“Quite right,” Elkire agreed.

“Listen, guys, gals. I heard it with my own ears. In a shady realm near the dark portal, Five told it like it is – he was an ally to Jaeger and the other darker gods, hoping to instill his continued existence through whichever of them ruled the universe in the end. And Yineera? She was another one of Jaeger’s enemies dragged under, never to be seen again. I would assume Five’s Merchants spread the word over time, and that’s how the legend held.”

“Madness.” Irana turned abruptly.

“Suit yourself.” Alan shrugged.

“I— believe him.” Elkire straightened. “Or at least I may come to. Five has been an unreliable storyteller since we’ve known him. Tales of weaponry that we failed to find, armor claimed on a cloud city that mysteriously disappeared as soon as we reached it. He mocked us so. It would make sense that he’d divest an ounce of truth – even his grandest secrets – only to deaf ears. Or at least, ears that would soon be deaf.”

Now that Alan knew there was no stark ties to the Merchant, he flipped out his coin of the Five Pearls and let them slowly orbit around him.

“Proof, at least, of his fate,” Alan said.

“Proof that you’re a murderer, is all.” Irana folded her arms.

“Goll-y. If I didn’t know you so well, sis, I would think you might’ve slept with the guy.” Tenger laughed at his own joke.

“You are a disgusting creature in need to reunite with your people… in the sewers of Brack!”

“Brack?” Alan perked up. “Like, Hightower Brack?”

“Why yes. Half of us were reborn there, and still have allegiance.” Elkire stood even more proud, as if such a thing was possible. “Are you a part of us?”

“I’m from Strangey Town… unfortunately.”

“Mm.” The Legion collectively groaned, as did Gardstrife.

“But I do have a friend from there. He’s in this sword.” Alan drew it. “Trapped in it, actually. Maybe if I could visit his origins, I could get him back.”

Elkire shifted his eyebrows back and forth in thought. “We are due for a rest stop home. Legion, what say you? Wrangle a couple of guests as we discuss business?”

“Aye. This guy’s alright in my book.” Tenger slapped Alan’s arm.

“He wreaks of blood and stolen weapons,” Irana snarled, coaxing another guy to decline him as well.

But the rest were yeses.

“Remember, brethren, this is an opportunity to adjoin another Peg to our cause, and to one day return to our Origins in our accomplished new vessels. Hah.” He gazed at Alan. “That is our shared dream.”

It was mine, too.

Alan looked back at his Borai. “Hey, Yogi.”

“Yes, noble Alan.” Yogi bent to his level.

“Would you mind a detour? My plan was to head straight to the ice pond of Fistel’s Valley, to bury you with your people as I promised, but…”

“I am honored to be among you and have no doubt that our destination will be reached. Carry on as you must.”

Alan smiled. “Thanks, buddy.”

“It is settled then?” Elkire asked.

“It is. Beam me up, Scottie.”

“Ah! An Earth-man! I take back my nay!” The angry chubbier warrior with resplendent pauldrons pushed past Irana to personally shake Alan’s hand.

Alan chuckled. “Only one left to win over, it seems.”

“The hardest of us.” Elkire hooted. “C’mon now, recall your minions and let us travel to Hightower, where hopefully Junos will welcome your presence.”

Alan grew uneasy at the idea of recalling his protection. He’d been duped before. But that would mean two godlike creatures set to serve him had no sense about them. And that just couldn’t be.

“I will be a short coin-flip away, Sir Keeper.” Gardstrife bowed.

“I’ll take great comfort in that.” Alan dispelled both of them back to golden coins in a flash, which he caught.

Elkire did the honors of calling his god, Junos, which caused an almost calming portal to whisk into existence. Soft blue waves pulsed outward from the center, and the sound of a deep foghorn, like a cruise ship was somewhere far away, rolled through.

The lot of them took their gryphons by the reins and guided them inside.

Alan took a deep breath and did the same. His consciousness expanded and contracted more delicately than other trips, especially the one he most recently suffered at the hands of Five. But that was no longer here nor there.

He awakened in a realm of high balcony bridges decorated with creative banners, castles in the distance, and grey-brick streets full of whimsical Merchants. Adventurer groups traveled from castle to cloister, estate to essence shop. All the chatter was of armor enhancement and attempted beast-slayings.

I can dig this. Alan nodded to himself, taking in the scene.

As the group escorted their mounts toward a stable, Alan heard tavern music and rowdy patrons clinking beer mugs not far away. It invited a sense of joy that he’d been suppressing ever since he found Neesha with Gregorian. And Durger… that was a big reason he was here.

“A great realm, isn’t it?” Elkire’s posture was almost nauseating at this point. His chin couldn’t possibly get any higher. Alan didn’t really mind. It was actually kind of funny now.

“It is.”

“Good day, Elkire!” A man with a wide-brimmed hat bowed.

“Tenger, when are you going to whip me again? Teehee.” A barmaid giggled as she passed by.

“Hold your tongue, Hanny! It’s hardly past noon!” Tenger laughed and cracked his whip in the air for her.

They seem popular around here, and innocent enough.

As they approached the stable, Alan fought to hold his nose so not to be rude. It smelled like hay mixed with vomit, or maybe that was just gryphon food, but either way, not good.

He winced.

“Hah, you get used to it, lad.” Elkire hit Alan lightly on the back before guiding his cream-colored gryphon to a vat of water. “This is Myra’s stable, and our own personal safe. Feel free to dump your gear and take a load off. Feels good to roam the town a little lighter.”

“I’m okay, Elkire, thanks. Still getting used to the weight of all these weapons.” He meant it mentally more than anything.

“Right.” Elkire eyed the Soul Collector and Blood Edge. “Some dark forgings on your back.”

“Yeah. Wish I’d known the burden before I grabbed them.”

“Well, we are a people of smiths and tinkerers. Enchanters and forgers. It’d be a waste not to have your gear inspected at the very least.”

“I’d like that, actually.”

Alan glanced passed the archways designated for each stable, into a grassy enclosure where the gryphons spread their wings and butted heads in a playful sort of way.

“Majestic creatures.” Alan folded his arms.

“Truly.” Elkire leaned over the wooden ledge to admire his. “I tamed Myra years ago, in the amber fog of Kreel. My most accomplished feat to this day, if I’m being honest.” His pride hit maximum talking about his mount, which Alan admired, and hoped to grow as close to his burning steed one day.

“Even more than that spear on your back?”

“Hah, I didn’t say it was the most challenging find, though it is the one yielding the deepest bond. As I ally with other Peg-wielders… I hope to share the same experience with those I come to trust… those that move on to join the Legion.” He eyed Alan.

The prospect was enticing, but the goal was no longer in line. Alan didn’t want to know more about the Pegs right now. He saw what it could do to people.

“Having an ally in the wielder of Yineera’s Peg would gain us great clout in the long-term. Naysayers who call us mad dream-chasers, hmph. We would be one step closer to proving them all wrong.”

“I will be your friend, Elkire, but join the Legion? I’m sorry, but my path is a different one.”

“A slower one without a gryphon.”

“Maybe so.” Alan hooted.

“Come, there is no need to make haste about any decisions here.” Elkire whipped his spear ostentatiously and laid it in a magical golden-lit area within Myra’s station. He then unfastened the clasps of his legendary platinum-scaled armor and rested it carefully beside his other gear. Finally, as he placed his bag down, he reached inside to pull out an archaic style leg of a wooden chair. At least, that’s what it appeared to be.

“Is that your Peg?” Alan asked.

“It is.” Elkire rotated it in his grasp – the golden light showing a glossy finish. “It may not look it, but I claimed mine in the purple fog, from a void beast I had no business besting.”

“I would’ve guessed an Antiques Roadshow,” Alan’s joke was lost on him. “Back in my Origin World, we’d sell things like this all the time. Timeless furniture and whatnot.”

“Hm. Well, in here, at the center, there is an essence so infinitely dense, the mere awakening of it could cause a fracture between realms.”

“Like a portal?” Alan asked.

“Heavens no. A portal is a window and a door. A fracture is a destructive vacuum, attempting to make outside, unthinkable realms relevant to ours.”

“So I’ve heard. Relevance is the key to portal travel, right?”

“Indeed.” Elkire left his Peg with his other items. “It is said by our most esteemed Chasers, that only when these Pegs are fastened together, would there be a sense of stability in initiating outside universe relevance. Hearsay, ultimately, but we of the Legion are brave enough to test it when the time comes.”

“I see.” Alan followed Elkire out of the stable, toward Tenger and Irana awaiting him. “And who would be the first to travel it? I’m sure that’s a great point of contention, because the first may very well be the only person to get through.”

“Indeed. A delicate area for someone of my role,” Elkire agreed. “To dispel any notions of mal intent or favoritism, I have decided to make the first contender determined by random chance. A roll of the dice.”

“Ah, the stiff board telling you about his big dreams?” Tenger leaned on the side of the stable.

“To a Merchant-slayer we hardly know,” Irana scoffed.

The three of them looked no less intimidating without their armor. It’s like they wore their accomplishments in their confidence.

“You all follow at a one-in-eight chance of getting home, if you gather all the Pegs. And those odds may get worse if more are admitted,” Alan said.

“Better than one in a trillion, friend.” Tenger lazily kicked off the wall. “Which is what it felt like when we first showed up here. I got a sick brother back home in Al’tayu. Opius addiction. For that? I’ll take these odds any day. Besides, we’re all going to get through. All of us. Even this peculiar lady right here.”

Alan tried not to let his unease show, but it was fruitless against these sharp-eyed warriors.

“You don’t seem convinced,” Tenger said.

“Tell us your doubts.” Elkire lifted his chin.

“I don’t want to offend.”

“Nonsense. We are Fate Chasers. Our existence is to invite offense.”

“Well, Tenger, if your brother is addicted to some kind of drug in your home world, why not do your best to become powerful here, and invite him with open arms once he crosses into the realms.” Alan shrugged. “We can make it a sort of heaven for the people we care for.”

“Hmph.” Irana turned away.

“What?” Alan asked.

“I considered that,” she admitted. “And most here have settled into that view.”

“But?” Alan egged.

“We of the Legion are homesick. That’s all there is to it. We want back. And we’ve made it our mission to get there.”

“Ah, of course. I understand. This crazy place certainly isn’t for everyone.”

“It’s like a renaissance fair with real magic.” Irana spread her arms to showcase.

Alan’s eyes widened. “You’re from Earth?”

She ignored him. “Then we’re tossed to the sea of wolves in Ojin. A zoo from my nightmares plagued by fog… making us the prey.”

“Calm, my dear warrior of the will. You are as much a prey as I am a sheepster. With merely one swipe of your blades you can clear ten miles of blue fog.”

She held back a smirk at the compliment.

“Better yet. You didn’t wake up in Strangey Town as your freakin’ home,” Alan said.

“There is truth in what you say. Nonetheless, this is not home. I miss my coffee and my job, and my…” She choked up and turned away.

They’re right, these Fate Chasers. Everyone else seems like they’ve forgotten their past for a chance to shine – me included. But this isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, I suppose.

Tenger cleared his throat. “So, Elky. You taking him to see her?”

“Indeed.”