“Someone has to pay for this!” a man shouted. He was a smith by the looks of him: thick-muscled arms and a brown leather apron, stained black and gray by smoke and fire.
“Hold your tongue!” Sir Wilhelm Weber, who sat upon a brown Colechester destrier, and sporting plate armor, hissed through his visored helm. “Our Lord will speak first on this matter!” Lord Calvin Cartier straddled his black destrier, sitting amongst the smoldering ruins of the Elvish District, surrounded by an entourage of lesser nobles and soldiers dawned in Cartier colors. Oddly, his house elf was not amongst the retinue.
“Should you not hold your tongue, then?” Lord Crystalcreek, saddled beside the knight, rebuked. “This is a vile act. How can a man not protest?”
Augustus and his friends of the Moonlit Mysterium stood within a crowd of soot-covered commoners. Word spread as fast as the fires, and people of every kind joined the Elves in battling the inferno, but they could not stifle the spread. Hundreds would face winter without a home or hearth. Stablemaster Tobias and his wife were amongst them. The fire did not contain itself in the Elvish District. It did not discriminate. Lord Calvin turned first to Crystalcreek, then to Sir Weber–the Captain of his House Guard. “The Elves are my subjects. They’re supposed to be safe here.”
“Is that why we have half as many guard patrols as the rest of the city?” The elf, Tel’arian, wearing soot-smeared leather, shouted.
Lord Calvin grew up under the constant threat of death and the scrutiny of his grandmother, Lady Caterina. Now, he sat on his horse, amongst commoners and nobles alike, facing the scrutiny of his subjects. “I do not assign patrol duties to every guardsman and soldier under my command. I will speak with the Captain of the City Watch!”
A soldier straightened his back and stood at attention. “I’m sorry, my Lord! There are few crimes here! And fewer men to spare!”
“Will the Reds answer for burning down our neighborhood?” Tel’arian asked.
“There’s no proof that my boys played a part in this!” Maddox Masterson stood near the entourage of nobles. His clothes were clean.
A she-elf, wearing long braids of auburn hair and a green dress, shouted between cupped hands: “We saw them!”
“These bastards will do nothing,” Rose muttered.
The surrounding crowd pressed more and more. Commoners poured into the Elvish District to see the devastation and their Lord’s response. “There may have been Red Sashes amongst them!” Lord Calvin yelled. His voice carried well atop his steed. “As there are Red Sashes amongst us, now!” Calvin pointed into the crowd at a group of four common men, their skin and clothes stained black–even the red sashes tied around their arms and waists. Gus spotted Borgis standing in a separate group of soot-stained Reds. “Their guild is more than a few bad actors! Are the Red Sashes alone to blame?” The chattering crowd of commoners went silent. “I will find out! There will be justice!”
“Just like you found your jewel!” a voice cried.
Some people clapped and cheered, while others jeered. Lord Calvin kept his composure. “There will be justice.”
In the attic of the Western Inn, Gus leaned against the wall, staring out a window. The moon peered back at him, so many miles away, a gray circle in a sea of purple and blue. Skiggi sat on a dusty bench. “This game has become too dangerous,” he said, toying with his beard.
“We should move on down the road,” Dori, who sat beside her husband, agreed.
Gus kept his silence.
“I feel bad for the Elves. And, we all know, left to the nobles, they’ll never find justice,” Rose said. “But–”
Gus snorted. “You all talked me into this. I can’t stop, now.”
“What?” Skiggi snapped.
“Why?” Rose asked.
Is this how the Cartiers plan to ensnare me? Gus pushed off the wall and stalked through the attic. He found his dagger and swords, wrapped in his Cloak of Invisibility, stuffed in an abandoned cupboard. Perhaps they're right. Maybe it's time to leave justice to someone else.
“Augustus?” Rose snapped her fingers. He spun. Their eyes met. “Don't be foolish.”
“I know that Red Sashes were involved in this," he said. "I want to question Borris. What have you found out about him?”
“He’s well connected,” Rose informed. She paced around with arms folded over her chest. “He climbed the ranks fast and is close friends with Lord Candlebright.”
“We want no part of it!” Dori sliced the air with her hands, cutting off any debate.
“I stand with my woman!” Skiggi announced.
Rose passed a knowing look over her dwarven companions, then turned her gaze back to Augustus. She rolled her eyes and unfolded her arms, stepping toward Gus. “We’re not here to bring justice to the people. We’re performers, thieves, and rogues. I feel bad for the elves, but, honestly, it’s none of our business. We need to keep moving.”
“Will you leave the city, then?” Gus asked.
“This hive has become a keg of gunpowder!” Skiggi hopped up from his seat and lumbered to the window, climbing onto a crate to poke his head out and peer over the city. “Last night was merely the lighting of a fuse." He pulled his head in, hopped down from the crate, and moved to the center of the room, where he threw his hands over his head. "It's bound to explode, Gus! They elves will riot, the Reds will take up arms, and then the city guards will step in!” He lowered his hands. "That doesn't sound very profitable to me."
“And we’re going to steer clear of that mess,” Rose assured. “We’re leaving first thing in the morning.”
Gus chuckled. He paced the attic. “I’ll need to retrieve my belongings from the Mysterium. Where can I find Borgis?”
“You’re a good man, Gus,” Rose said. “Come with us. Don’t get caught up in this.”
Some things carry through, Gus mused. “Borgis?”
“At this hour?” Rose asked. “Probably at his home.” She shrugged.
“Which is where, exactly?”
Gus leaped across the roofs of Goldhill, higher and higher, around and around. Borgis lived near the crest of the hill, under the shadow of House Cartier, in an apartment fit for noble blood. The streets were well-lit and well-guarded, but the rooftops were a hidden road. His magical cloak caught a stiff breeze and flung Augustus through the air. He soared across a street. The apartment building boasted two massive chimneys and eight smaller ones. Its roof was shingled and tarred, as thick as a dragon’s hide. “Room five on the fourth floor,” Rose had informed. Gus looked over the edge of the apartment at the street below. Four guards stood at the doorway of the building, speaking with a pair of drunken noble-born boys. They laughed heartily.
Gus dove off the edge of the roof and spun, turning invisible. He grabbed the lip of a balcony and kicked off the brick wall of the building. The force of this motion stirred up a stiff wind the rebounded off the building and caught in his cloak. Gus flipped end over end, rising above the balcony, then landing on its railing. The men below never heard a sound.
The balcony door stood ajar. The room within was dark. Gus darted inside.
A man lay in a bed of silk sheets and feather pillows. The frame was exquisitely carved by ancient hands. Gus scanned the dark room. No one else. A desk sat near the far wall. Gus made his way toward it. Letters lay scattered about, so Gus pawed through them. Bills and receipts for his room and board… letters from his family… nothing business related, though–mostly personal matters. Nothing out of the ordinary. Augustus moved like a shadow, slipping toward a chest near the foot of the bed. It was large and adorned with metal flowers and vines. A steel padlock sealed its contents. Gus thumbed the pointy pommel of his dagger. It would be too loud to pry it or cut it. Then again, maybe it’s time to get loud.
He tugged at his cloak, and his invisibility faded. Gus stalked over to the bed, drew his knife, and held it at Borgis’ throat. Gus coughed, but Borgis did not stir. He shook the man’s shoulder with his free hand. As consciousness came to the western-born lordling, his eyes widened, and his movements became frantic. Gus leaned all his weight into his forearm, pinning the man to the bed. He raised his dagger high so that Borgis could see it. “You will speak, and I will spare you,” Gus threatened.
Borgis’ dark eyes darted from the dagger to Gus. “Wh-what?”
“Who was involved in the attack on the Elvish District?” Gus interrogated.
“I don’t–” Borgis reeled away as Gus jerked his dagger back, readying it to stab the man in the face or throat. “Okay! Okay!”
“Shush!” Augustus hissed. “Speak silent and swift, or your death will be the same.”
“M-Maddox sent them! I had nothing to do with it! I knew nothing about it! You saw me! You were there fighting the fires, too! I swear!” Borgis began crying. Tears streamed from his eyes, and snot from his nostrils. “It’s awful…”
Gus breathed a sigh of relief. “Tell me what you know so we can set this right.”
Borgis settled into his skin. “I came here to help my father gain influence. I found myself as a negotiator of sorts, for my father, as well as the Red Sashes, and eventually the nobility. My station rose quickly. I became a friend of Candlebright, for he lacked friends inside the nobility. I felt a sense of commonality with the man, to tell the truth,” Borgis admitted.
“Get to the point,” Gus threatened with his dagger.
Borgis flinched. “Candlebright approached me, seeking an introduction with the Red Sashes. I helped because he was my friend.”
“Helped him do what?” Gus asked.
“Gain influence,” Borgis admitted. He gulped. “But I never thought he wanted something like this. I thought he made a natural ally for the guild, who could help us make more money. But he and Maddox hit it off a little too well.” Gus remained silent. “Their hatred for the elves led them further and further astray from our original goals. They drank and plotted late into the night. Their disposition towards the elves ran rampant amongst the dwarves of the city. Most of the men who followed them felt the same, too. I never realized it would escalate to this, though.”
“Yet here we are,” Gus said.
“What a horrible time to be alive." Borgis shook his sweat-drenched head. "And I’ve gotten myself caught up in the mix.”
“How does the Jewel of Juulumbra play into this?” Gus asked.
Borgis blinked. “Is that why you’re here? The jewel? Elves died. Immortal blood was wasted!”
Gus moved his dagger toward Borgis’ throat. “Don’t get testy with me! Everyone believes the elves took the jewel. Sounds like a good frame.”
Borgis nodded ever so slightly. Animiki’s Talon waited below his chin. “It was the perfect opportunity. The elves took the blame, and we walked away rich and clean. It was good business for the guild.”
“Who has the jewel?” Gus interrogated. Borgis searched the darkness of the room for answers, eyes darting from left to right. “Let’s make this right, Borgis!” Gus prodded.
“Candlebright hired a thief,” Borgis said.
Stolen novel; please report.
“And?” Gus turned his dagger.
“They sold it to Edgerton Crystalcreek!” Borgis informed. “I heard Candlebright laughing about it with Maddox!”
Gus’s mind raced. The letter wasn’t delivered to Crystalcreek. Lord Crystalcreek wrote it! Did his wife’s death drive him to madness? His lineage is dwindling; he allows his legitimate daughter to shirk her duties and houses a bastard child whom he has no intention of legitimizing. He speaks boldly with his servants–even loose-lips like Matilda–hiring a thief like Tobias! The answers were right in front of me, but I mistook his apathy for empathy. Augustus stood, keeping his dagger pointed at Borgis. “You will take yourself to Lord Cartier and tell him everything you know.”
“He’ll kill me!” Borgis cried.
“Not if you’re clever,” Gus assured. “You have influence–wield it. Use your father’s name, if you must. Make yourself a hostage.”
“Why do you care if I live?” Borgis asked.
“I don’t,” Gus admitted. “But the guilt in your tears tells me there’s hope for a better man. One I would want to live beside.”
“I can’t…” Borgis stared into his eyes, his breathing heavy.
“Do what you will, but when Lord Calvin finds proof that the Red Sashes burnt down part of his city, there will be another eradication,” Gus chided. He walked towards the balcony door. Stopping to turn, he spoke: “And if I find out you have lied to me, I will come for you.” Gus exited the apartment and shut the door. He spun, flaring his cloak, and turning invisible once more. He jumped up onto the rails of the balcony. The night air was still.
Gus hid behind a large yellow curtain. The chamber's door creaked opened and heavy footfalls stumbled toward the bed. There was a loud thump, and the creaking of metal and wood, giving way to Lord Crystalcreek’s weight. Crystalcreek yawned. When Gus was sure the two were alone, he slid out from behind the curtain and floated across the room, carried by his magical cloak. The lord smiled as he yawned and moaned, shifting about in his bedding, smelling of stout wine. Gus tugged at the edges of his cloak, which rustled in the breeze of its creation, releasing wind that circled the chamber, scattering loose parchment and quills, snuffing out the light of every candle without a cover. “We know what you did!” Gus hissed.
Lord Crystalcreek sat up in his bed, looking around with wild eyes.
“We are eternal!” Gus spoke through clenched teeth. “We are forever,” he whispered.
“Who-uh-what?” Edgerton pulled his covers up to his chest.
“We are eternal!” Gus hissed.
Lord Crystalcreek flinched. “Oh! No-no-no!”
“You killed us!” Gus flapped his cloak and sent another breeze whirling through the Lord’s chamber. It picked up the curtain where Gus had hidden and sent the fabric crawling up the wall.
“No!” Lord Crystalcreek jumped up from his bed and ran towards the door.
He pulled and jerked at the handle, but Gus’ cloak released a steady gale, pushing the door away from the lord. Crystalcreek fell to the floor, crying. “We will never cease,” Gus hissed. “We are eternal!”
“Wh-what do you want?” Lord Crystalcreek crawled to his knees.
Gus levitated, invisible in the storm's eye. The wind picked up. Crystalcreek’s hair and beard fluttered. Gus’ cloak, and every curtain in the room, flapped. “Justice!”
Crystalcreek raised his hands in front of his face. The wind knocked him onto his back. “Help! Help!” the lord cried.
Gus maintained the maelstrom. “Justice! Eternal Justice!”
“Help! Please, God, help!” Knocks resounded on the door. It budged and wedged open, but the wind of Gus’ magical cloak was too strong for the intruders. Men shouted and cursed from behind the door. "Help me!"
“Eternal Justice!” Gus hissed.
“How?” Crystalcreek buried his face in his hands.
“The jewel!” Gus hissed. His cloak settled. Lord Crystalcreek stared at the ceiling in awe. Knights, guardsmen, and servants rushed into the room. “The jewel…” Augustus whispered as he backed away toward an open window. “The Jewel of Juulumbra,” he spoke loud and clear so everyone in the lord’s chamber would hear. “Eternal justice for the jewel!”
Gus dove out the window and into the night air.
His feet hit the cobbles with tenacity. Their thuds resounded and echoed off the alleyways. Gus made his way toward the West Gate, where Maddox lived in an apartment suite above the Lazy Satyr Inn and Tavern. He shoved off the ground, springing himself into the air. His cloak caught a stiff wind, allowing Augustus to sail high above the city.
The Lazy Satyr was a busy tavern, on the edge of the Western Road. There would be many people–potential witnesses. He would work quietly. The inn's roof was slightly rounded and well-shingled, which made for easy walking. Gus found the window of the inn’s attic and shimmied it open. He clung to the roof's edge and lowered himself, dropping then latching onto the windowsill. He crawled inside. The attic was dark and cluttered. Gus moved cautiously, carried by a graceful wind, and his cloak. Two large trapdoors on either side of the attic offered a way down. Which one? He listened to both for a time, but both offered silence. Gus lifted a door, chancing a glimpse of faint light revealing a stairwell. Gus descended the steps, shutting the attic door behind him. Maddox’s suite waited nearby. Gus practiced caution again, listening through the door for any signs of activity within. Once again, there was nothing. The hour is late, Gus assured himself.
He retrieved a set of tools from his belt pouch and worked the door's locking mechanism. When the latch sprung, Gus shouldered the door open. The room inside was well-lit. It was a sitting area, with a small fireplace and a worn sofa. Two wooden chairs sat on either side of the sofa. Across the room, an open doorway awaited. Along the left wall, a door sat shut. Gus entered. He crossed the room and stepped into a dining area. A sizeable red-headed man sat at a table alone. “Maddox Masterson?”
The burly man was startled, nearly falling from his chair. His eyes searched the dining room. “Who’s there?” He stood.
“An eye in the dark,” Gus said.
Maddox grabbed a knife from his table and stalked about the room. “I’ll put out your eye!” He chuckled. Gus let the man walk past him, invisible as he was, then took off his cloak. Gus wrapped up Masterson’s knife hand, then twirled around the man and dragged him into the next room. Maddox lashed out, but Gus placed his leg behind Masterson’s, tripping him. He flung the man into a chair. Maddox toppled over it and crashed upon the ground. Gus leaped on the man and wrapped the cloak around Masterson's neck, whose face turned red with anger and suffocation.
“You thought you could commit genocide and get away with it?” Gus stared into the man’s eyes. Maddox gasped and coughed. Spit drooled from his mouth. Tears welled in his eyes. “This is justice!” Gus snarled.
A door opened. A child stepped into the room–a little boy. “Paw?”
Maddox kicked and lashed about. Gus stared at the boy as his father died—tortured. Gus loosened his grip. Masterson used the opportunity to attack Gus, but Augustus buried his elbow in the soft of the man’s temple. Maddox fell unconscious.
The child looked Gus in the eye. He sobbed, frozen in terror.
Augustus stood up. He backed out of the apartment. He fled down the hall, up into the attic, and out into the street.
He ran through the city–lost and alone. The streets were empty, save a few sleeping beggars or passing patrolmen. The hostilities of late left everyone wary. The sun would rise soon. Gus stayed in the shadowy alleys, even as the sky reddened. His heart thumped like a drum. In his mind’s eye, the face of a fear-stricken child haunted him. He ran from the ghost of that child. As the reddish colors of dawn blended with blue, Gus found himself in the burned-down ruins of the Elvish District. The elves moved rubble and charred timber. Their clothes, skin, and hair were stained black with soot. Augustus had not seen them gathered in such numbers. Shal’a’til and Tel’arian were among them. No one spoke to or even looked at Gus. They moved with grace and purpose, their eyes and brows set on their task. Their flesh lathed with the sweat of labor. With the fire burned out, now, they looked to rebuilding.
Augustus sat down. He cried. Tears cooled his hot cheeks.
A soft hand found his shoulder. Gus looked up at the face of a divine–her beauty beyond time. “Evil cannot be avoided,” the apothecary said. “Don’t let this tragedy haunt you. You meant well, but you are just one man.” Gus stared into her eyes–dumbstruck. “We are immortal,” the she-elf spoke. “We will continue until this hatred loses the will to fight.” She left Gus to his misery.
Augustus gathered himself from the dirt. He joined the elves in their work.
Gus and the elves stopped working at noon to eat, wash, and rest. The smoldering ruins made the hottest part of the day hotter. The elves were merry, unlike Gus had ever seen them. They chattered and laughed. Shal’a’til stood at the center of the gathering, sharing stories of their heritage. He spoke of the Collapse, when their dragon gods swooped down from the skies and scattered their people into the wind, forcing them to seek refuge across the seas. He recanted the Arrival and the persecution their people faced at the hands of men and dwarves. The immortals became enraptured by Shal’a’til’s words. Sitting amongst them, Augustus realized that this recent tragedy merely connected the Elves to their roots, and brought them close to one another.
Tal’arian’s pointy ears twitched. He stood up and turned toward the south. Gus followed the elf’s gaze. A precession of armored guards and Red-sash auxiliaries–dwarves and men armed with axes, clubs, and mining picks–marched down a narrow street. Five men on horseback accompanied them. The guardsmen formed ranks. Reds swarmed at the wings of the guardsmen’s shield wall. Shal’a’til walked to meet them.
Tel’arian, his son, accompanied him.
On the wings, Maddox Masterson rode opposite a lord whose black tabard bore a yellow candle. That must be Lord Candlebright, Gus concluded. A blonde man clad in golden plate armor rode a large black warhorse ahead of the center ranks. Lord Calvin. Gus pulled up the hood of his cloak and stood amongst a group of huddled elves. Once again, the house elf of House Cartier was nowhere to be found. To Calvin’s left, riding between him and Lord Candlebright, sat an armored man wearing the tabard of the City Watch. Has Candlebright paid off the Captain of the Watch? To Calvin’s right, between him and Maddox Masterson, rode an armored knight, wearing the Cartier sigil on his tabard.
“Halt!” Sir Weber shouted, his voice muzzled by his helm. Their retinue obeyed.
Shal’a’til stood a few paces from Calvin's warhorse. “To what do we owe the honor of your presence, my lord?”
“I come seeking council with one of the Eldari. I come bearing great and terrible news,” Lord Cartier said. “We have found the Jewel of Juulumbra!” The elves stirred. They whispered and murmured. “Unfortunately, we believe one of your people sought to be a vigilante, taking justice into their own hands,” Lord Calvin continued. “My jewel was returned because of this same culprit so I will be merciful, but only if they step forward now!”
“My Lord?” Maddox barked. He sported a knot of flesh on the left side of his head, just behind his bruised eye.
“Quiet yourself, peasant!” Sir Weber bit back.
The wounded Maddox sulked, turning his eyes to the ground.
“Lord Crystalcreek came to me this morning,” Calvin spat. “Squabbling and crying about an elvish spirit of vengeance and justice–how it came into his room and stirred things–how it spoke to him but showed no visible form.”
“Elvish magic!” Maddox cried.
The Red Sashes nodded and stomped their feet. “Yeah, elvish demons!” a hairy dwarf shouted.
“I know not of such spirits!” Shal’a’til pleaded.
Lord Calvin Cartier raised a golden-plated hand. “Lord Crystalcreek returned the jewel and turned over the thief who stole it. One of my houseguards, unfortunately.” Calvin scanned the crowd. “However, Maddox Masterson was wrongfully attacked last night. He has no connection to the crime. Yet, his assailant wielded magic: much like the ‘spirit’ of Crystalcreek. I am no scholar on such matters but I know your people's tales. All other magic is either myth or divine.”
Shal’a’til turned and looked at his people. “Did any of you do this?” The elves were silent, as was Gus. The old elf turned back to the lords and their warriors. “We have no connections to this crime, my lord. Save our ruined homes and shops. But we are resilient. We will rebuild.”
Lord Calvin locked eyes with Shal’a’til. "Very well." He nodded. Then he turned to the captain of his house guard and whispered.
“Move out!” Sir Weber shouted. The guardsmen lowered their weapons and shields, then marched back down the street. Lord Cartier and his house guard fell in behind.
The Reds, however, stayed where they were. Lord Candlebright and Maddox Masterson shared a look. “That’s it?” Maddox shouted. “I was nearly killed by one of these rat bastards! Truly, there is no justice to be found in this city unless we make it ourselves!”
Candlebright shook his head. “Let’s go home!” the minor Lord commanded.
The Reds looked up to Masterson, ignoring their lordly benefactor. “We’ll have to make our justice!” Masterson's nostrils flared and his eyes went wild. He whipped his horse into motion, charging Shal’a’til. Horse hooves thundered. Tel’arian grabbed Shal’a’til and tugged his father out of the way at the last moment. “Blast you all!” Maddox shouted as his horse charged into the crowd of elves where Gus hid. Elves jumped and tumbled away. A rock struck Maddox in the head. The man fell from his horse, cursing. He stood and lashed out with an axe. Thankfully, the elves were too nimble and eager to retreat from the madman. “They’re cowards! Kill them!”
The Reds charged. “Stop, you fools!” Candlebright cried, but the group’s mind took over. The fight was on.
Gus punched, shoved, and kicked his way through a crowd of Reds. Every elf in the market square fought. Carried by the grace of eternity, the elves moved with the wind, flowing, and spinning, lashing out at enemies to every side. Gus quickly realized one unarmed elf was worth twenty untrained men. Neither side showed mercy. Elvish limbs were cleaved, and heads were battered. human and dwarvish bones snapped, their eyes gouged. Mortal and immortal blood spilled the same shade of red. Heavily armored men marched into the market square from the eastern road, crashing into the Red's flank. Sir Webber, carrying Lord Cartier’s banner, led the charge. In the pressing of chaotic bodies, Gus worked his way toward the edge of the conflict, seeking an escape. He watched as Tel’arian worked a dagger into the spine of Maddox Masterson. Maddox fell to the ground—disappearing beneath the fray. Augustus broke through a wall of bodies. He ran toward an alleyway, away from the fighting. He spun, becoming invisible.
Flapping his cloak with both hands, Gus soared into the air. He landed on top of a nearby building.
The City Watch formed a horseshoe, nearly encircling the riot. Cartier’s men prodded the embattled elves, dwarves, and men with the blunts of their spears and attempted to capture, rather than kill. The elves fell in line quickly, retreating into alleys or behind their lord's men. The Reds learned slowly, many beaten within an inch of their life. Some died. The Reds, pressed on both sides, faltered. Men threw down their arms. Sir Webber rode to Candlebright, who sat upon his horse, stunned by fear and shock of the moment. The knight drew a dagger and jabbed it into Candlebright’s neck. The lesser lord fell from his horse. His body hit the cobbles and bled.
It looks like someone told the truth, after all. Gus watched Shal’a’til treat with Lord Calvin, who offered the elf a fat purse of circlings. Then, Calvin retreated into the city, followed by his house guard. They left the City Watch to clean up the mess. It’s over, then.
Gus returned to the Western Inn. After a hot bath and a full meal, Augustus tried to catch up on some much-needed sleep but found his dreams haunted by the face of a frightened child. He stayed in Goldhill for two days, enjoying Garen’s hospitality, before striking out on the Western Road. His legs carried him down into the valleys of the borderlands–to the west. Pine and cedar gave way to oak and ash, and the soil softened into rolling farmlands and forested hills. He wandered alone through the foreign land. Sleep eluded him most nights, so he pushed ever onward. I’m a monster. That’s why I’m alone. Trees pressed in on all sides. Marching along a narrow road, he missed his companions. Monsters don’t have friends, just allies.
He stopped to rest his feet while thoughts crowded his head. His brain was full to bursting. At least they distracted me. And they did help me solve the mystery of Juulumbra, though they will never be compensated–much to their dismay. Gus groaned, rubbing swollen soles and tired toes. His flesh was puffy and tender, unlike the hard hooves of the satyr, Padair.
His eyes scanned the woods, searching east to west, along the lonely road. “Where are you, Padair?”