Chapter 124:

“Koumore doesn’t look like a witch’s haven.” Anton said aloud, leaning over his horse. “Just like another Graterious town.”

The map indicated this modest town, surrounded by a sturdy wooden wall, though in disrepair in some sections, was indeed Koumore. The city they were supposed to meet Ferula. The ride had been very short from the port, Wilford and the others were still loading more supplies and taking a needed break on solid, dry land.

“But…She didn’t tell us where we were supposed to meet her in Koumore.”

“Don’t think she meant for us to just hang around,” Verona said. “Doesn’t strike me as that kind of person.”

“What does she strike you as?”

Verona rubbed her chin. “Now that I think about it I really don’t know. But…I get the feeling that she’s not just going to come to us this time. Maybe she wants us to show some initiative. I know someone…”

“We stopped to make camp last time,” Cetina said, pulling back lightly on her reins. “The Dark Elves aren’t going to be happy to hear we’ve stopped to make a campfire.”

“That’s pretty easy with Anton here.” Verona chuckled.

“Looks like there’s a toll at the gate.” Kal held her hand above the brow on her mask. “Do we have any copper or silver? I think they’re going to ask why we’ve got only gold.”

“And gold with the markings of a dead Kingdom.” Anton mused. “No one’s complained yet, but someone’s taken notice I’m sure.”

“Seocuria?” Kal’s voice trembled slightly.

“Certainly hope not.” Anton held her hand. “And if they have we’ll just to resort to freeing the Beast-kin the old-fashioned way. Which I’m sure will be a lot more fun for them, compared to thinking they’re going to yet another hellish plantation or workshop.”

They continued trotting down the road, re-joining a small but constant stream of people travelling to and from the small port. It was nowhere near as big as Rusaddir, being the last port before reaching the desolate mountain walls of the Kar Kingdom, but it still thrived with trade and activity. If they weren’t in a rush they’d probably stay for the night. Not when so much rested upon them. A few travellers spared them glances, mainly towards Kal’s mask, but continued with their journey. While it was annoying that Kal had to cover herself it was far better than leaving her on The Snowberry all on her own. Luna’s presence would have caused too much of a distraction, especially when negotiating with a potential Strega Witch. Once nestled in a bundle of cloth she refused to rise again and dozed comfortably.

The guards, wearing armour that settled in quality between the bright, heavy armour of Porswea and the motley scavenged attire of Soulthor, were not actually collecting tolls. They kept their eyes on the merchants and peddlers travelling through the open gates but did little else. A few looked them over but they considered them not worthy of their time. Regardless it suited Anton just fine. Once inside it was clear Koumore was a simple yet thriving market town. Goods from the countryside and the surrounding woods were on open display, the smell of cooking meat filled the air, and caused one of their number to become temporarily distracted.

“I don’t think we can just ask anyone if they know someone called Ferula,” Anton said, taking hold of Verona’s reins. “Or if that’s even her real name. But…Someone must know something. Maybe we should just ask the stall owners again?”

“Only after Verona’s bought enough food for eight people.” Kal chuckled.

“Oh, yes please!” Verona pumped a fist into the air. “It all smells so good! After spending all that time on that boat with preserved food, this is making my mouth drool.”

Verona…wasn’t exaggerating.

“Oh! I recognise that plaque.” Cetina pointed excitedly to a modest building near the centre of town. Upon a large tower a large wooden emblem had been raised, the emblem of the Graterious Mercenary Guild.

“Does everyone still have their metal…cards? Tablets?”

“Yep.” Verona patted a small pack by her leg.

They hurriedly moved through the busy market streets, Anton had to promise Verona they would stop later and get some food, before arriving at the guild. Several well-armed people waited near the few horses tied outside. Each kept a keen eye on anyone that approached, their hands hovered over their blades and loaded crossbows rested against the building.

“Good thing they take security seriously.” Anton dismounted with a light thud. “I don’t see anyone hanging from the walls this time.”

“Probably somewhere else,” Verona said softly.

“I’ll wait here.” Cetina roughly tied their horses’ reins to the wooden poles. “Just in case…”

She looked to the guild guards. They didn’t show any visible sign of being offended, though something like that would be easy to mask given enough practice.

“Alright. We shouldn’t be too long.”

She gave a small wave as they entered the Guild building. It was much smaller than the one in Porswea, and more cheaply furnished. Perhaps it was more appropriately furnished for their conditions. Many tables and chairs littered the room, a giant board to the right with papers pinned to it and a reception on the far wall. A standardised approach, with intention to breed familiarity. Forty people lounged inside, drinking copious amounts of beer and stuffing their faces with steaming hot food. Most were men but a remarkable few were women. None were given any extra treatment, they argued and laughed with the men as equals. Anton was a little concerned to see a large group of mercenaries in the corner. What concerned him wasn’t their equipment or demeanour but their age. They could have barely been sixteen, all eight, yet they held their dirty and rusty weapons close, armour that had been scavenged and reassembled, a meagre meal lay between them as they eyed off everyone nervously.

“I wonder what happened to them,” Anton asked softly.

“Look like orphans,” Kal whispered back. They didn’t stop, lest they think they were being watched. Their eyes weren’t crazed. Yet. “Probably banded together for protection. And so they don’t have to sell their bodies to eat.”

“Does that happen often?” Verona asked.

Kal nodded. “Sometimes. But it’s not like a brothel. If they get lured by someone bad…”

Anton knew what fate awaited them. They waited patiently in the short queue until it was their turn.

“Hello.” The polite assistant, a young woman, smiled warmly as they approached. She wore the same uniform and presented the same neat and orderly impression as those in Porswea. It was truly run like a professional business, unlike the Red Company. “How may I be of assistance?”

Anton produced his guild tablet, as did Verona and Kal. “We’d actually like some help, if it’s not too much to ask.”

“Certainly.” A business smile grew on her face. “If you have a contract that has been completed we can process that here…I see that you are registered in Porswea. Is there a particular reason you have come so far south?”

“Well, we’ve been on a bit of an adventure. But we need to find someone that supposedly lives here. And since you are the local mercenary guild we thought you would be the best place to start.”

The woman smiled apologetically. “We know of many people, but Koumore isn’t exactly a village. Many people live in small hunting camps and hamlets surrounding the city, only coming to the city to sell their wares. But we’ll help however we can. Who was it you were looking for?”

“A woman by the name of Ferula-”

The receptionist’s face fell. “If…If you think that you can collect the bounty on her I’m afraid that you are gravely mistaken.”

“I don’t understand-”

“I’m telling you this for your own safety.” The receptionist spoke calmly and flatly. “You will die if you try and fight her.”

“We honestly aren’t trying to kill her,” Anton said. “Nor do we have any desire too. But…We need to know where she is.”

She looked between them before sighing. “Another group just came through thinking they would collect the bounty themselves. About thirty this morning…You’ll be able to find this information anywhere so long as you ask, so I’m not doing you any favours by not telling you. Head westwards until you see a giant stone with green markings. Then head south into the swamp. I have no idea where she is in there…Not that you’ll find her first.”

“Any particular reason why she’s wanted?” Verona asked. “She seemed friendly enough.”

The receptionist raised an eyebrow. “If you’ve actually met her then there is a chance you will survive.”

“So what did she do?” Anton asked.

“Something to do with the Emperor. I think it currently stands at thirty thousand gold coins.”

Anton coughed. “That’s…Insane. And yet no one has claimed it?”

“Not yet.” The receptionist glumly looked to her hands. “But she doesn’t bother us, so we leave her alone.”

“I’m sure the Emperor loves to know that.” Verona tilted her head.

The receptionist shrugged. “I wouldn’t know that. But the reward increases every winter.”

"Thank you for the information," Anton said. "We'll be on our way now."

"I'd advise you not to go there." The receptionist rubbed her cheeks. "No one comes back from the heart of the Basilisk Swamp."

How fitting, if she actually is a witch. We need to be careful. They worked over Duran and the other Bebbezarians pretty easily.

Anton bowed his head and turned to leave. He caught the eyes of one of the orphan children. He, in his heart, wanted to know more but there simply wasn't the time. It was quite possible they could run into trouble before they even left the building. When Anton stepped outside his heart and bated breath relaxed. Cetina chatted with the guild guards about something, by what fragments Anton picked up it was about the local weapons.

"Cetina." Anton whistled loudly. "Time to go."

Cetina quickly waved to the guards and unfastened the ropes as fast as she could.

"Something wrong?" Cetina whispered. "You all seem kind of flustered."

"We'll explain on the way. But we have our destination. At least I hope."

Anton mounted his horse on the second jump. Kal snapped her head to the guild as Cetina helped Verona up.

"I can't hear anyone," Kal said.

The guards were listening but made no attempt to stop them, not yet at least. With Cetina mounted they turned their horses westward and left without looking back.

Anton didn't stop until they were well clear of Koumore. The western road was all but devoid of people, only a few carts overflowing with timber and hunted game passed by. Anton continued to glance back but no one followed. He didn't know if he expected something to happen or if he had just been spooked. With Koumore now just a large blip in the distance he peeled off the road heading through a light forest to a small patch of grass where they could gather their thoughts.

"What was that all about?" Cetina asked, bringing her horse close to Anton's.

Anton folded his arms. “Seems that Ferula has quite the price on her head for something she did or didn't do, for the Emperor. It's a hundred times what Kal's is."

"Currently." Kal said.

"We have a silver mine now." Verona chuckled. "Not like we have to worry about money now."

"At least until Atros is a major player," Anton said. "Then we'll burn through money like a fish needs water. But...I can see the marker up ahead."

A dense forest lay at the end of the road, swallowing the thin dirt track in its dark embrace. At the limit of the forest Anton saw the marker stone, exactly as the receptionist had described.

"Before...Before we go any further there is something that I want to do. And I'll need your help with this Kal."

Kal tilted her head quizzically.

"I got these at the port." Anton searched through a pack, producing four very simple string necklaces with a seashell on the bottom.

"Aw." Verona smiled. "Thank you. You got a little present for all of us?"

"Not exactly." Anton smiled. "But I haven't forgotten and I'll get you both a good present, especially you Verona."

"Haven’t exactly been able to get my nightly present of late." Verona laughed, a wicked and a seductive grin grew on her face. She nodded to his feet. “Not with all that happening.”

Cetina’s face reddened slightly.

"But I believe that it's a good time to enchant these to protect us against Strega magic."

"Why?" The redness on Cetina's face drained instantly, her hand hovering over her blade.

"Because I think there is a chance that Ferula is one."

Cetina snarled, catching Anton off guard. "You're bringing us to a coven of those fucking..."

Cetina held back the flurry of words attempting to burst out of her throat. Her neck muscles budged in suppressed anger.

"I don't think so, Cetina," Anton spoke as calmly as he could. "We met Ferula before we met you, and Eluria and Sancha." Cetina's teeth ground at their very mention. "She offered her help to us then, but she wanted us to hurry towards freeing the Beast-kin. And it was a good thing that we did. Otherwise, a whole lot of our new friends would be dead or too far gone. Marion, Kristof and Rasha would be broken and Eider dead."

Kal gently nodded.

"And, don't forget, that she said that we were safe from the Strega Witches so long as we stayed out of each other's way."

"But-"

Anton raised his hand, Cetina stopped but did not look happy. “I understand that if she's a Strega Witch then her words are potentially poisoned-"

"Potentially?"

"Yes. All groups have factions. So what Eluria and Sancha did might not have been sanctioned by the majority."

Cetina breathed slowly as she looked at the ground.

"She knew where we were the second time.” Verona piped in. “So she probably knows that we're coming now. She even knew that Kal was a Beastkin even with the mask on."

Cetina bared her teeth. "I don't like this at all, Anton. But I won't let you there by yourselves."

"Which is why I want to make these wards, of a sort, to keep their magic away."

Cetina did not look convinced.

Anton and Kal quickly prepared the wards as best they knew how. It took some mana, less for Kal, but they were protected to some degree. Without speaking a word Cetina angrily snatched her necklace and secured it underneath her armour.

"Anton. I'm probably going to be in a foul mood for a while." Cetina looked away. "I don't know what I'll do if I see that magic again."

"If something happens I'll be sure to stop you," Anton said.

Cetina took another deep breath and relaxed. Verona turned to Kal and winked, not that Anton was supposed to see that. Kal chuckled faintly and shook her head as they began trotting towards the stone.

In the otherwise normal forest, the green marker stone stood out like a sore thumb. What concerned Anton the most was its resemblance to the markers surrounding The Ancient Listeners. Anton decided to keep that information from Cetina. Her anger had mostly dissipated but her posture spoke that she was ready for a fight.

Just beyond the marker stone a small trail led south and deeper into the forest. Compared to the wide, flat main road this was more akin to a goat track. It weaved around slight elevations and never followed a straight line.

"How is there supposed to be a swamp in a place like this?" Anton asked aloud. "This forest is dry. Even the trees are wrong. Where are the marshes and mosquitoes? Frogs and chirping insects?"

"Maybe it's just a name." Verona offered. "Like the Accursed Forest. There's nothing cursed about that place. It even has a wonderful pure lake." She snapped her fingers. "That's what we need to get the Dwarves to do. Make that actual Bathhouse for everyone, you and Kal make the hot stones, or warm stones, and a private one for us."

"That doesn't sound that bad. Did you get a bath before we left, Cetina?"

Cetina kept her eyes peeled into the forests' shadows, watching for anything that could strike. "No. I never did."

"You'll definitely want one then." Verona chuckled. "You have no idea what hot water running over your body feels like."

"Stop," Kal whispered. She pointed to a soft muddy patch in the trail. "Someone's been here before us. Looks very recent too."

"Probably those people who wanted all that gold." Verona sighed. "If they’ve succeeded we might not get those magic books and tomes for a while."

"I hope she's alright." Anton felt daggers emanating from Cetina.

Over the next several minutes of slow and careful travel the forest began to shift and change before their eyes. Tall mighty trees grew shorter, their branches willowy. Small puddles of algae and slime began to emerge. Soon the forest disappeared completely leaving them in a swampy bog. The rugged path veered through the marshes and small puddles unabated.

"Even the sky is different." Verona mused.

Green-tinged clouds replaced the once open and blue clear skies. Behind was cloudy too, even the direction where they entered the forest.

"Another spell," Anton said. "But is the swamp really in the middle of the forest or have we slipped into some sort of pocket world?"

"I think it's the second," Kal said, scanning the willowy trees and insects that incessantly buzzed around them. "These things can't survive the snowy winters of Graterious."

Anton’s heart lodged in his throat looked beyond the murky puddles, a giant shadow moved through the trees and bogs. A shadowy creature, a Jaguar stalked them through the swamp. But this was big. Really big. Probably even taller than Rasha with all four feet on the ground. The shadow slinked through the boggy and muddy terrain effortlessly all while keeping them squarely in the focus of its bright yellow feline eyes.

"Do you see that?" Anton asked softly.

"W-Oh shit." Verona squeaked. "That's really big."

"There's one on the other side too," Kal said.

The second shadow jaguar stalked them on the other side. This was all but identical to the first, perhaps a tiny bit shorter.

"I don't know if we can take them," Anton spoke softly. "But they aren't hostile. Yet." He looked back, Cetina’s drawn sword didn’t agitate their stalkers. "I don't know how much good that will do against them, Cetina."

"I feel safer with this," Cetina mumbled.

"Can you see where this path leads?" Anton asked Kal.

"No. It just seems to go on forever."

"I've got a set of teleportation stones if things get bad."

Ten minutes passed in a nervous silence. The Shadow Jaguars continued to stalk them, maintaining a perfect distance no matter the winding path. The Shadow Jaguars glanced forward, to the end of the swampy path. Anton was expecting Ferula's home to be nothing more than a small rickety hut emanating a single trail of smoke, an open door with Ferula beckoning them to enter and taste her brew. Instead a small hamlet lay in the middle of the swamp. Anton counted ten modest buildings on stilts constructed haphazardly over a raised plateau. Thin yet dense trails of dark green smoke rose into the sky from each building, all but invisible a few moments ago. It only drove home the idea they had stumbled upon a different world, of a sort.

Wooden stakes, driven deep into the muddy marsh, surrounded the hamlet. Though crudely made it worked well, judging by the few impaled creatures dotting the perimeter. A gap remained along the pathway but two giant stone pillars either side made him even more nervous. Two Shadow Jaguars perched themselves on top of the stone pillar, black misty claws dug hard against the stone as they silently eyed their approach.

Anton noticed a change in the soil ten meters before the entrance. His horse's hoof breached the differentiation and the Shadow Jaguars snarled and began to advance. Flakes of stone burst from the two Jaguar’s claws effortlessly tore through the stone. Anton quickly pulled the reins back hard, his horse protested but backed away. Once they were clear the Shadow Jaguars returned to their positions and waited in perfect silence.

"Now what?" Verona asked.

Anton raised his hand. Noises came from the small swamp hamlet: laughter, the clanking of metal, splashing of walking through mud and water. Someone very young moved behind the spike wall. A young girl emerged, barely in her teens, dressed in simple clothing designed for life in the swamp. Instead of cloth, she wore thick hides, so mud and stagnant water would simply run off. Underneath something akin to a small witch’s hat a pair of curious green eyes studied them from behind a dirt-stained face.

"Oh. Hello." The young girl smiled and waved, her hide gloves were stained in some strange yellow fluid. "You must be four that Auntie Ferula was talking about. We were starting to think you weren’t coming. There were some uninvited guests before, but...They had to leave."

Anton caught her eye flicker to a particularly large bog. What he once thought a broken tree branch was an arm, covered and stained in slime and mud. Small insects and tiny crabs were drawn to it, tunnelling their way underneath the metal armour to feast on the delicious flesh.

"I see..." Anton resolved himself to play the part. "Doesn't look like they wanted to be nice."

The little girl puffed her cheeks. "They were really mean and angry, they even threatened Auntie Ferula and my brothers and sisters. But Jub and Cub took care of those nasty people."

"And are they..." Anton pointed to the two stone pillars.

"Those are Cliffy and Pouncy. Those are Jub and Cub."

"Are they going to attack us if we come any closer?" Verona asked.

The girls’ eyes widened. "Oh. I...I don't know. I'll find someone who can tell you." She turned to run but waved them down with her little arms. It would have been cute, if not for the four silent creatures staring them down. "Just. Just don't come any closer. I'll be right back."

The girl ran into the swamp hamlet towards the closest building. Using both hands she propelled herself up the stairs, her tongue jutting out the corner of her mouth.

"I'm sure this will all make sense eventually," Anton said softly. Cetina raised a brow but said nothing.

A seeming eternity passed before the little girl returned, running down the stairs with reckless abandon, followed by a middle-aged man. He wore the same clothing as she did, perhaps of slightly better quality.

The man gently waved. "My apologies for the delay. Ferula said we were expecting four guests but I did not think it would be so soon after our engagement with thirty Bounty Hunters. Please, come in.”

The man and little girl turned away, the girl skipping happily sending up small splashes of mud into the air. The girls looked at Anton. He shrugged and gingerly moved his horse forward. As the first hoof stepped over the differentiation the Shadow Jaguars remained perfectly still. The creatures eyed them closely, unblinkingly yellow glowing eyes followed their every move.

“Imagine if we had these for Atros,” Verona whispered. “No Goblin would dare get close.”

“I think it might freak everyone out to see them perched next to the gates,” Anton replied. “Let’s see if Ferula can explain how to get some ourselves. Maybe even just some Shadow Wolves would do.”

“No skeleton ones.” Verona frowned, her voice adamant. “That’s not something I want to see you playing with.”

Anton nodded. While he had a passing interest in necromancy, especially after witnessing the speed and guessing the strength of the Skeleton Wolves, it was just passing fancy. Besides, necromancy meant resurrecting what was once living. He would have to kill the creatures first. It would be better to just summon something with magic and replace as needed.

Faces peered out from the stilt huts. They wore the same garb as the two, some old while others young. The hut’s interiors were lined with dried herbs, dead animals and other strange items. He wondered what they could make. Could they do things that even the Old Gods couldn’t? Throughout the hamlet he saw small open huts and shacks with incomplete rituals and creations, some bubbling away underneath a watchful eye while others glowed faintly with blue and green hues. His curiosity would have to wait.

They were led to a building at the rear of the swamp hamlet, four wooden poles had been recently hammered into the ground with small bowls of water placed at their base.

“Please tie your horses here.” The man said softly. “It is unwise for them to leave the hamlet, even for a moment. There are many creatures out there that would enjoy such a large meal.”

“Like those Shadow Jaguars?” Anton asked as he stepped down.

He laughed gently, the little girl tilting her head and furrowed her brow.

“They do have a resemblance to Jaguars, don’t they. But they do not require food, in the normal sense, not like the actual jaguars lurking in the swamp. Did you see any on your way?”

“Nope. Just those big ones.”

“Hmm…They must have been scared off by the Bounty Hunters. Ferula will be able to explain more if you so wish to inquire.” He waved his hand towards the building. “She is waiting for you inside.”

“Thanks.” Anton saw that Cetina didn’t want to leave their horses alone. “Come on, Cetina. It’ll be fine.”

At least I hope so. I’ll check them over once we’re out of the swamp.

Cetina reluctantly followed, her sword was still drawn but neither of the residents appeared to mind. Verona and Kal kept their weapons close and ready while Verona checked the small pot for its precious red liquid. The steps creaked and groaned with each step. Anton checked the necklace, it too still seemed intact and functioning. He brushed aside a thin ragged cloth, designed to keep insects out, and stepped inside. This hut was far more open than the others even still decorated with strange ingredients and items. A large table sat in the middle, five chairs with one occupied. An elderly woman sat at the table, slightly hunched over with whitened eyes. A bony, wrinkly hand reached out for a clay cup. She slowly drunk the liquid, savouring the taste and fragrance before focusing her attention upon them.

“Hello again.” Ferula chuckled, more cackled, waving to the four seats. “I’m sure that I saw that is was this morning that you should have arrived…” She looked at the ceiling, not a single beam of light shone through. “I suppose it still is. But it appeared some uninvited guests tried to ruin our meeting. And after all the effort I’ve gone through to get what I promised…Oh, please. Have a seat.”

Anton held out the chairs for all three, Verona and Kal thanked him while Cetina was still too frazzled to properly thank him. Only when she moved the chair forward did she understand what he had done. Ferula smiled as Anton took his own seat.

“Oh, to be young again.” Ferula chuckled before taking another sip of her tea. “Those were good days. Oh. Kal, was it?" Ferula looked to Anton for confirmation. "You can remove your mask if you wish. Your race does not concern me in the slightest."

Kal glanced at Anton, a hand rested on his leg. He could tell that she really wanted to. When he gave the nod her hands almost ripped her mask free along with the cloth wrappings. Her ears sprung free, tiny droplets of sweat sprang off. Her fur was quite damp and had clumped together, just like after a shower.

"You have no idea how hot it was wearing that thing." Kal wiped the sweat away with the edge of her cloak. "The swamp was the worst I've ever had it. Worse than Seocuria."

"She truly is a pretty half breed." Ferula sipped her drink.

"She is." Anton held Kal's warm and eager hand, that too freed from the confines of her gloves. "Just one of the many reasons that I decided to marry them."

Kal and Verona said nothing but he knew they were happy, they always loved to be complimented, even if they didn't always show it.

"You have a fine loyal gathering." Ferula swirled her cup. "I can tell just by looking at them, the way they look at you. Brings me back to my younger days. When I was young I had six men that hung off my every word." Ferula smiled at some long distant memory. "And me. Those were some good times."

"Six?" Verona leant forward, a devilish smile on her face. "I think you can do better than that right now if you really tried."

Before Anton could respond Ferula clapped her bony hands.

"But while you and I can compare tallies of those we shared a bed with, that's not why you've come all this way." Ferula bowed her head low. "While I know you have more pressing matters, saving the lives of the Dark Elves and Dwarves, but...Thank you for making this trip."

"It sounded like the people of Koumore didn't want us to find you, so we didn't get ourselves killed. Or bring your wrath down upon them."

Ferula laughed. "Oh, that's silly of them. We often trade with Koumore for supplies that we can't find here. But I understand why they might be nervous that you're coming to find me."

"Like that group that was just before us?" Verona asked.

Ferula opened her mouth as an ear piercing shriek rang through the air. It quickly turned into a whimper and faded away. Ferula looked away, embarrassed.

Ferula sighed softly. "It happens from time to time. And I can't just turn them away."

"Was it the..." Kal glanced at Anton. "The Shadow Jaguars?"

"Or magic?" Cetina's armour groaned as she leant forward.

"A bit of both." Ferula smiled, the previous embarrassment gone. Ferula hobbled up and slowly brought over four small cups filled with a light red fragrant tea. They were all thankful but none were willing to drink it just yet, Anton pretended but didn’t feel anything change nor any magic react.

"Most are resting in the swamp right now, fulfilling the final act that we all must face one day. But some were stronger than a normal. So..." Ferula rolled her hand. "But we'll get to that. It's been so long since I've had actual guests that I'm getting all muddled up. Like a young flustered girl all over again. Tongue twisted into knots."

Ferula tapped a cane, hidden from their sight, against the wall of the hut. Something walked up the stairs, a small Shadow creature resembling a monkey raced to Ferula's side, tilting its head.

"Could you please get the books on Glyph and Principle magic that I collected?" The Shadow Monkey ran off, Ferula snapped her fingers and the creature stopped dead. "They're in the library in two large packs. On the table at the end."

The monkey nodded and scampered away.

"Sometimes the Familiars can be a little too eager." Ferula sighed. "They'll run off before you've told and come back, looking so happy and expectant, only to have to tell them again. Oh well, they really don't care."

"The Shadow Monkey was your familiar?"

"One of many." Ferula chuckled. "No serious magic user wouldn't have one."

The three Graterious mages didn't have one, at least that we saw, and I don't know if Duchess Belinda is strong enough to have one. She admitted that she's a very weak mage.

"Are you a Principle or a Glyph mage?" Kal asked, mirroring his own thoughts.

"A Principle Mage, I suppose you could say," Ferula said. "I was never lucky enough to be blessed by the Old Gods. No matter what I tried." Ferula shrugged. "But that hasn't stopped me from doing my best."

"These books..." Anton tapped the table. "What do you want in return? It sounds like you went through a lot of effort to get them."

"I do not know if you remember, but when we first met, while you were escaping from the Ancient Listeners-"

"How could we forget?" Verona asked.

"I told you that I hadn't forgotten my oath to the King of the Kar Kingdom. And I intend to see it through to the end."

"The Kar Kingdom is long gone. Doesn't that free you from your oath?"

Ferula shook her head. "Absolutely not. I made a promise to the King, even as Surdon burned around us, to see the kingdom restored no matter the cost. And I think, now, you will be that King, Anton."

The girls looked at him in silence, their faces hinting nothing of what was travelling through their minds.

I don't think I'd like to wear a crown.

Anton took several deep breaths before he responded. "I don't know if I'm king material. From what I understand the Kar Kingdom was not pleasant to Beastkin. Not in the slightest. I will make something better, something that everyone will look up to in envy. Somewhere where everyone, regardless of what they are, will be able to live safely and happily."

Ferula chuckled. "I didn't expect you to restore the Kingdom exactly. But so long as the lands will be civilized once again, I will help however I can."

"Those books will be a fantastic source of help," Anton said. "So far we've had to work things out on our own. And that's been very slow and...Sometimes dangerous."

Verona shuffled, remembering the mad trance she had fallen into, requiring Anton to electrocute her back to sanity.

"Glyph magic is powerful." Ferula grimaced. "But it can be very dangerous. Especially those that bare the mark of the less caring gods, like Verona’s."

Verona grunted.

“Gaining the allegiance of other Old Gods will be difficult.” Ferula frowned lightly. “Given their current antagonism you’re lucky that Jira is considered neutral in all things, otherwise Nithroel and her gang of lackeys would have bullied her to remove such power.”

“I’d rather have something like Earth or Wind Magic.” Verona huffed, folding her arms. “What about those gods?”

Ferula stroked her leathery chin. “Recently there has been a shift, a small but noticeable shift, in their pantheon. You may be able to gain some more of their favor, not you yourselves obviously, but others.”

“Who would be open to siding with us over Nithroel?” Anton asked. “I doubt our four, well Jira doesn’t seem like she cares all that much, are all that popular with the others.”

“No. That does limit some of their potential interactions. But there are some that you should seek out. I would suggest Thirío, Demi-god of Beasts, Parádeisos, God of the Heavens and Montagna, God of the Earth. From my understanding they are the most willing to change. However,” Ferula clicked her tongue. “They cannot move openly and Nithroel will be watching them like a hawk. Unfortunately you won’t be able to ask your gods to talk to them, even though I’m sure they wish too.”

“How do you know that?” Anton asked.

“They told me.” Ferula shrugged. “I can convene with them but it puts tremendous strain on my body, especially for someone so old. And anyone with a Glyph can’t use the brew either.”

“You’ve tried?”

“Yes. They end up dying a horrendous death.” Ferula sighed. “But that was a long time ago. You’re best hope is to find an idol of theirs, or create one, and pray to that. Then they will be able to commune with them without interference.”

“That’ll be a great help to us.” Anton smiled. “Speaking of help, in Porswea we heard about a blue powder. One that was apparently made here."

Ferula's wrinkled face smiled happily. "Yes. Though not by us. Too dangerous. There’s a small workshop near the port that makes it, but they would never give away their secrets. However, I have sent some of my...Acolytes to acquire the recipe. A sort of test, if you will, and I'm extremely happy with their work." Ferula turned around and sighed. "It's also in the Library. I'll have to get my monkey to get it when he comes back."

"You seem to know quite a bit about what we want," Anton said quietly. "How closely are you watching us? Do you hear every word we say? Have you been watching us at night too?"

The girls looked quite unsettled, Cetina as well. What they did at night was their own business. And not to be intruded upon by some strange woman.

"Only bits and pieces." Ferula tried to wave down their concerns. "But...I'm sorry I didn't see that some of your companions were Strega Witches. I feel terrible about that."

Ferula's words were directed at Cetina. Cetina grumbled but said nothing.

Heavy footsteps ran up the rickety stairs. The Shadow Monkey returned with two oversized packs on its back, yet its movement was not impeded in any way. It ran to Ferula's side and gently placed them at her feet.

"Thank you." She stroked the shadowy form, wisps of smoke coiled around her fingers and evaporated into the air. "Could you please get me the small blue bag sitting on top of the scrolls?"

The monkey nodded and scurried away.

"Despite my best efforts I was unable to find all the books and tomes relating to your powers." Ferula lifted out two large books, one red and the other a purplish-blue. "The United Kingdom standardized a lot of things, some of those related to magic. There are three levels to magic: Beginner, Intermediate and Advanced. There are many books for each level but they are grouped accordingly. These are beginner books for the Esperit and Stratos. I also have intermediate books for both too but nothing from the advanced levels. Those were rare then and it's beyond my power to find those. For now at least. I’ve also added a few items that you’ll find helpful. They weren’t easy to acquire so I hope you appreciate them."

"That's not bad," Verona said, nudging Anton.

"I also have a beginner book relating to Jira, and the manipulation of blood."

Verona didn't look entirely happy.

"And Tethra?" Kal asked. "I don't want to be left behind again."

"Unfortunately..." Tethra produced a white book. Compared to the others it was beaten up and neglected. "This was the only one I could find, and it's a beginner's book. I've found dozens of the others but this..." Ferula gently patted the book before placing it on the others. "This is the only one. Very well might be the only one left in existence. Someone went out of their way to destroy Tethra's legacy."

I wonder if a blond-haired goddess of the forest had anything to do with it.

"I'm just glad you found them." Anton took Tethra's book. "We were about to try and search the Royal Academy in Graterious for any of these."

"Hmm. They should have a few, but certainly nothing like what I have here." Ferula tapped the second bag. "This contains the books on Principle magic that I was able to find. None are intermediate or advanced but it should be a good start. I even found one on the basics of how to create a Charm, since Principle magic is different to Glyph magic. Especially since Principle Magic was designed to defeat Glyph magic. It, how best to describe it, it unwinds Glyph magic as its being cast, especially any artefacts. Though you wouldn’t know it powerful Glyph magic is like a child’s finger drawing compared to the complexity of Principle Magic. Though they’ll lack your strength you should always be careful fighting them.”

Anton flicked through the book. Everything was perfectly legible and understandable. Diagrams and pictures littered the pages, small handwritten notes were scrawled in the margins and pointing towards specific images. One pointed out that speaking a prayer aloud reduced the mana usage. If only Anton had known that at the beginning.

Verona tugged on his sleeve and pulled him down. She held her hand up so Ferula couldn't read her lips. "Remember that you said there were some things that only I could ask? Like with the Dark Elves?"

"Yes?"

Verona turned to Ferula. "Anything in those books on necromancy?" Verona raised a brow. Anton saw her hand hover over her blood filled pot. "I’m asking because we ran into some at a place called Balefire Mine."

"Ah..."

"What happened there?" Anton asked softly. "It seemed like things were going well, according to a journal that we found."

Ferula sighed and leant into her chair. "It was. No one had died in a long time, the beasts and monsters were held back."

"And the silver mine?" Kal asked. "Was that a part of it too? Oh, Anton's taken that for Atros's future."

Ferula chuckled. "You won't be running out of money anytime soon then." The smile quickly faded. "I had to perform some tasks in a distant land. And while I was trying to sort that out Balefire was overrun by the Ghlotsm. I had only prepared wards to deal with the Goblins and a few other nasties, not for them. Normally they live in Graterious and some in Bebbezzar. I didn't think they had a nest so close. By the time I returned it was clear they were long dead. The Ghlotsm had already made nests in the mine...And I simply walked away." Ferula sighed. "I spent a very long time after that lost, until I resolved to find someone in Graterious who could rebuild the Kingdom. However, I couldn't find one. Until I found you."

"I'm sure the amount of mana I possess has nothing to do with it." Anton smiled cheekily.

"I would be lying if I said it didn't help...But why did you talk about necromancy and Balefire? The only place with that was the vault below the sorting building."

"That's where we found it. A small pack of skeleton wolves guarding crates of silver ingots and very rare metal ores."

"Well...Yes. Coulsworth asked me to put some security down there to stop anyone stealing the silver, not that they could have spent it. Ghlotsm had no need of it either. So long as it is put to better use rebuilding-"

"We also found..." Anton hesitated. Did Ferula need to know about the dead bodies, those that had waited for her to return. Had she arrived but a few days after the attack, when they could have been saved, or months later when all would have been corpses?

"A tunnel, at the rear of the storage room. We had no idea where it led and didn't want to investigate further."

"I don't recall a tunnel. It must have been dug after I left. I was gone for a long time."

"You wouldn't have happened to have fallen out with the Strega Witches, would you?" Anton spoke as flatly as he possibly could. He had the feeling that he had no chance against her. And he didn't like their chances against the Acolytes without proper training.

Ferula rose from her seat and hobbled towards a small boiling kettle. She poured herself another drink, her face was lost in a deep confliction.

"Yes. I suppose that you could call me a Strega Witch."

Cetina moved an inch forward, her hand gripped tight on the handle of her sword. Kal reached over and held her back from doing something stupid and life ending.

Ferula sighed as she looked over Cetina with white milky eyes. "Your anger is somewhat justified. I was a part of the group that killed your father. But I left a long time ago. Before Eluria and Sancha were even considered initiates."

"Did their actions become too extreme?" Anton asked.

Ferula took her seat. Just the mention of this topic had drained almost all her strength. “I suppose you could call it that. I saw them change, and for the worse. Their desires and methods become too extreme for me. Suffice to say that I left almost all of it behind. I still keep in contact with one from time to time, but that’s mainly to remind them that I exist and to not come after me.”

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

“What could those people possibly want?” Cetina barely held back the venom in her voice. “Want so badly they would bring in sick and twisted people like them?”

Ferula’s face turned crestfallen as she looked into the cup. “If I were to tell you that, Atros would fall.”

“Are you threatening us?” Cetina growled.

“No.” Ferula smiled bitterly, gently shaking her head. “Not me.” She pointed at Anton. “But him. He would. His actions would destroy the last hope of the Kar Kingdom.”

What cryptic bullshit is coming out of your mouth? Let’s think about this properly. Knowledge itself is harmless, it’s what you do with it. So I’d do something…And the only thing that I can really do to help is my magic. Will I overuse it and cause a calamity?

Or stop altogether?

Anton frowned. “We are going to have to learn it eventually…So long as the Strega Witches, or at least Eluria, won’t be coming after us or our home I’ll be happy.”

“Unfortunately I trust the current head of the Strega Witches and they have lost sight of Eluria. Still. And I have not been able to catch her trail. She’s very good at running and sneaking about, wouldn’t you say?”

Cetina grunted angrily.

“But I will keep watch over you, and Atros, as best I can.” Ferula pointed to their necks. “Those things, those necklaces, they won’t truly stop our magic but it will prevent mental corruption. So you are safe from their…I suppose I should say, our, influence.”

Can’t take that at face value.

A pattering of feet preceded the Shadow Monkey returning, carrying a small blue bag over his head.

“Thank you.” Ferula caressed his intangible head again. “Now, run along and play with the others.”

“He plays with the Shadow Jaguars?” Verona asked.

“Yes. And a few others too.” Ferula glanced at Kal. “Unlike so many of us, they don’t care what they are when they play.”

“I don’t want to see what one of those big things is capable of.” Anton chuckled nervously.

“Perhaps I’ll give you a demonstration once we are done?” Ferula’s face livened significantly. “We still have some time before you need to leave, and I’m sure they’ll be happy to show off their abilities.”

Ferula passed over the blue bag. “The instructions are in here. They are very detailed and I can assure you that it works.”

Anton pulled out several pieces of rough paper and began to read what felt like a cake recipe. Ferula was correct, it was very simple.

Kal leant close, resting a hand on his shoulder. “We can get most of these things near Atros. These are all from plants that we can grow pretty easily. This…Might be a problem.”

“Now that we can move between cities quickly we can easily buy the components.” Anton smiled at Kal. “But we’ll get someone else to make it, just in case it goes off.”

“I would like to of more help.” Ferula continued. “But I’m afraid that I cannot, at this time. Most of my students are currently engaged overseas. They won’t be available until sometime next spring, which is far too late for your little foray into The Shadow Isles.”

“Yes…”

I don’t know how comfortable I’d be with a Strega Witch, or an apprentice or acolyte, lurking about.

“Oh, but there is one thing I can show you right now.” Ferula happily clapped her hands. “Though one of you has already done it.”

Kal received her attention. She pointed a finger at herself.

“Yes. You have something that the other two Glyph mages don’t have.”

“Apart from fluffy ears and a tail.” Anton said, cutting Verona off.

“Principle Mages require Charms.” Ferula reached into her loose clothing and produced a large golden medallion that barely fit her hand. Anton recognised the general shape but the gem interlayered into the metal was massive, a single stone shaped in an eight-sided spiral. It looked similar to a diamond, the largest and most impressive one Anton had ever seen.

Ferula chuckled as she saw them looking with awe. “It is quite large. And expensive. I don’t know how much this would sell for, but its power and ability is unrivalled. Not even the greatest mages alive in the Shattered Kingdoms have anything like this.”

“Did you make that yourself?” Kal asked. “Or did you find it?”

“…A bit of both.” Ferula placed the Charm onto the table with a light thud. “Glyph Mages don’t need something like this to use magic, though it helps. There’s are far more simple…I say simple, they don’t need to be simple, but it needs to be something special. The material itself doesn’t need to be rare or expensive, just crafted carefully.”

She pointed at Kal’s chest. Kal looked down, gently frowned and pulled out her silver medallion.

“That’s a very nice medallion of Tethra. May I please have a closer look at it?”

Anton felt incredibly hesitant. Not because she might steal it, but in case she left something behind. Kal felt the same but gently passed her the medallion.

“Please be careful with it. It’s very important to me.”

Ferula nodded, took out a piece of cloth, and gently held the medallion close to her white eyes. “Ah…This is very good. Almost pure silver handcrafted into an effigy of Tethra. And it has been cared for extremely well over a very long time.” Ferula passed it back to a grateful Kal. She passed it to Anton who checked it for any sign of Strega magic. Confident there was no he returned it. “It is quite a powerful artefact, even if you don’t realise it, though it will only increase Tethra’s powers and no one else’s. Anton could use it but not for fire or lightning magic.”

“That’s…” Kal stared at the medallion for a moment. A smile washed over her face before she tucked the medallion away safely again.

I thought that Kal just had some high affinity to Tethra’s power. In my heart, I still think she does.

“An Effigy doesn’t need to be made from metal.” Ferula continued. “It has to be made by someone with good intent. All of you, most, could create something that will enhance your powers to some level. The books contain advice on how to do that.”

“Will I have to wear something like a blood-stained skull around my neck?” Verona asked. “I’d rather not.”

“I don’t think so.” Ferula smiled. “But Jira does have a twisted sense of humour. But it seems other gods and beings do to, don’t they Anton.”

Anton leant back into the chair. “You knew Kal was a Beast-kin even with her mask on.”

“I looked too hard into the Flames of Foretelling.” Ferula shrugged. “And it burned out my sight. Permenately. But now I can see what no one else can. Could you please show it to me? While it’s wrapped around you it’s a little difficult to see.”

Kal helped Anton remove the string and his tail burst free. Ferula frowned lightly as she looked at the limb, not that Anton was expecting a different reaction.

“Well, well, well. What have you done to yourself this time?”

“This is the first thing that’s happened to me like this.” Anton frowned. “Is it going to continue?”

Ferula hobbled up and approached Anton. “I can’t say for certain. But do you think someone can wield three different Glyphs, where no one else can?”

“I…I just didn’t expect this.” Anton flicked the glowing ends.

“It’s not the worst thing I’ve seen happen.” Ferula held his tail and held it close to her eyes. “Principle Mages, should their magic get out of hand, could suffer far worse fates. Turned inside out or ripped to shreds from their unctrolled magic. Not that Glyph mages have to worry about that. That’s probably why they are so envious.”

“So what is it?” Anton flicked one end up.

“I’m not entirely sure. Whatever you have done, it has transformed your soul. And that’s not easy.” Ferula sighed. “Destroying a body is very easy, so is destroying a soul, but to transform it like that, without rendering you mad, is quite the feat. Especially with that black lightning sparking at the end.”

His tail only glowed white.

“Each time a Goblin is killed nearby I feel something growing, accumulating, there. But what do you see?”

Ferula rubbed her chin. “Let’s put it another way. When I look at Verona I see a red soul in the shape of a woman, flowing like blood.”

“Really?” Verona pouted before her brows furrowed. “Wait. Does that mean you can tell who’s a mage?”

“Yes. But none of the other Strega Witches can do this.” Ferula coughed. “Kal’s is white, I can see your long tail and ears even when they were hidden. Cetina’s…How to describe it. It’s there but it’s not. Like it’s constantly trying to fade away.”

“Are you trying to say that I’m dying?”

“I think it’s because you’re immune to magic, to a degree,” Anton said. “Like part of you is phasing out of existence.”

“I don’t think that’s a good way to put it.” Verona smiled.

“But it is true. If Eluria and Sancha could see what I can they’d have known right away that it was essentially pointless to try and use magic on you. But Anton’s soul was originally…Well, a bit of a mix. A mixture of white, purple and red swirling out of the crystal in your hand. Now it’s all distorted with this black lightning running throughout you, most of it’s focused on your tail and embedded crystal. Your feet seem fine…”

Ferula tapped on the table, pointing at Anton’s hand.

“Let me have a look. Please. It might explain what happened.”

Anton did as he was bid. Ferula’s bony fingers, strangely warm, trembled as they raked over his hand. She frowned as she tapped on the crystal.

“Have you come in contact with a source of magical power? A very violent one at that…” Ferula frowned. “What did you find in Balefire Mine? There was silver and Chelium, but nothing capable of this.”

“We did find something in one of the crates.” Anton began. “Most were filled with silver and Chelium ore, which we’re going to use, but we found one with a small little stone. After I touched it I started bleeding everywhere and fell unconscious. When I woke up I found myself like this.”

“Very interesting…” Ferula frowned lightly. “Whatever it was it wasn’t a normal artefact. No, something much older. Before the United Kingdom and perhaps even before the Age of Unending Strife.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Legends.” Ferula smiled. “The stuff of legends. Where the whole world was engulfed in war and death. Apparently only the oldest of the Wood Elves remember such a time, like their King. From what I know it wasn’t a good time. An age where your magical ability were supposedly common.” Ferula gently bounced the end of his tail. “A time where artefacts of unimaginable power were created and unearthed; capable of untold destruction, creation and everything in between. This…This looks like you touched a fragment of the Frangitur Ira.”

Anton raised a brow.

“An artefact from before that age.” Ferula relinquished her hold. “From before the time of the Old God’s themselves. Supposedly. Each piece is extremely dangerous”

Anton wasn’t sure if he should ask about the White Realm just yet, but something was telling him not to. The Strega Witches were after it, more than enough reason to deny it to them, but Ferula had simply fallen out not renounced their organisation and goals, only that they became too extreme. Did she still want the pieces and were simply waiting until the others had collected all bar one? If she really wanted it she could just kill them and take it, the fact she hadn’t was a good sign.

“You remember the Ancient Listeners?”

“How could we forget?” Verona mused.

“It is from the time of their gods. Even I do not know how long ago that was.” Ferula shrugged. “I doubt the near-immortal Wood Elves would even know of it. Maybe their elders.”

I’m sure that’s what I witnessed in the White Realm, the transition from one pantheon of gods to another. At least the beginning of it. And it didn’t look pleasant.

“Does that mean I can use their magic?” Anton asked. “It felt like lightning but I can already use that.”

Ferula smiled warmly. “I honestly don’t know. That magic, even if it really is magic as we know it, is beyond me. I’m sure that if I had some advanced warning I’d be able to tell you.”

Aren’t you meant to be watching over us? This didn’t happen yesterday. If you had other things going on I could understand, but still…

“I’m sure we’ll find the answer,” Anton said. “Or, I will. But if you do find anything please let us know right away. If it’s what the Awakened Goblins could use then it might be immune to Ghlyirl. But since the only way I can get more is by killing, haven’t fought anything outside of the Goblins so far….”

“My only advice would to be careful.” Ferula frowned lightly. “There are many types of magic, even ones that I or even the United Kingdom know about. There are many things that can go wrong.”

“We’ll keep that in mind.” Anton nodded. “I probably just need practice. At first I couldn’t use Glyph magic even though I had mana so I’m sure it’s the same thing. I wonder if it’s like Glyph or Principle magic…Different shapes perhaps, once I find out how to manipulate it, it shouldn’t be too bad. So long as I can find a way to get rid of the charge before it reaches my spine. Something tells me it’s not going to be all that good.”

“What happened to the stone after you touched it?” Ferula asked calmly.

I don’t think I should tell you that we still have it.

“We threw it into the mine,” Verona said. “Probably stuck in some Ghlotsm’s nest. We didn’t touch it though. Since it did that to Anton I didn’t think we should keep it.”

“I see.” Ferula gently nodded. “I still must apologise that there isn’t anything that can be done to remove or hide that tail or feet. It will only prove to be an annoyance in the future I’m sure. You will have to be very careful around people in the future. Hugs are going to be an issue.”

Anton shrugged. “Not a lot that we can do about it now. But that does lead to a more delicate question. One about potential…issues arising from this change.”

“Oh?” Ferula smiled faintly as she retook her seat. “Please enlighten me.”

“To be frank we haven’t had any physical relations since this happened. It’s not that it doesn’t function, I’m worried about this being transferable or not.” Anton shrugged lightly. “Or if it’ll affect any future children.”

“The change isn’t a disease.” Ferula began. “So that won’t be a problem. I’m sure that one of your lovely ladies has already touched it and they haven’t changed. As for the children…I honestly don’t know. Just make sure you don’t do it on those days and it should be fine.”

Anton knew that Ferula might not have a definitive answer but there was no way he was turning celibate. Definitely not. Until they knew more any thoughts of children would have to be put on hold, except for the ones that Verona and Kal might be carrying.

A silence fell over the room. Ferula gently clapped her hands. “Though this has been a wonderful meeting I don’t think there’s much more to discuss. You have to continue with your journey with all speed if you want to save the Dark Elves from their fate. Poor things…”

“Speaking of, what are the Red Goblins?” Anton asked. “He, whatever that one was, could control the others.”

“Reds?” Ferula held her chin. “Now those are rare. I’ve seen about thirty in my long life. Think of them as the commanders, intrinsic leaders who command the lesser Goblins. Which is everyone except the Awakened.”

Ferula sipped her tea, raising a brow at their silent and still faces.

“We don’t know much about the Awakened, how they are created or what they can really do, other than they emerge during times of change.”

“Like the Demons breaking through into the world.” Anton said. “Two Awakened kept the Demon’s portal from emerging. Then they went absolutely ballistic towards them, forgetting we were even there.”

Ferula gently shook her head. “I don’t know why they would just switch targets like that but we have never seen those things before. I will investigate further but I have very little to give you. Awakened Goblins are relatively unknown despite our long history fighting them, you already understand the hierarchy of the Goblins. Have you met any Blues yet?”

“Not yet. Water Goblins?”

“No. Think of them as Shamans. Weak magic users, but you know how dangerous even a weak Qaiviel Fire Mage could be.”

So you know about Belinda too. Not surprising.

“Thankfully they’re as rare as the Red’s and Awakened. I don’t think they use Principle magic, something more primal and raw, even compared to Glyph Magic.”

Those dolls in the White Realm…

Anton raised his hand. “There is something that I would like to do before I go any further-”

“I still have yet to show you how powerful familiars can be,” Ferula added.

“Yes. I think we’d like that demonstration and a bit of an explanation of how they work.”

Ferula frowned lightly. “That last bit might be a little difficult. Since these Shadow creatures aren’t the standard type of familiar. Your books have all the information necessary to summon creatures of the Old Gods and how to control them.”

“Having them as security would be very nice.” Anton mused. “But it has been almost impossible to contact you. If we could have earlier I would have asked to meet you in Rusaddir, even though that might have been inconvenient for you.”

Ferula shrugged. “Not particularly. But I understand your point.”

“Do you happen to have two pens with you?”

Ferula raised a brow. Did she not know about this, despite knowing almost everything else?

The Shadow Monkey soon returned with two small pens. Anton quietly asked for Kal’s medallion and enchanted the pens. Ferula spoke the truth. His prayer required less mana. Perhaps only a few percent for him but noticeable. Still nowhere near the level that Kal operated on. After returning the medallion he demonstrated how they worked. Though he was all but certain Ferula was blind to normal sight, she smiled and clapped once upon witnessing the pens copy one another.

“Such a simple enchantment can do such wondrous things.”

It took me a while to work it out. And I’m pretty sure that Tethra covered up a few things that I missed.

“I presume that this is for me?” Ferula held the small pen close.

“It is. Just in case we ever need to contact you, or vice versa.”

Ferula smiled at the pen, her bony finger tapping the end. “By simply selling these you could become wealthier than your wildest imagination.”

“That’s a lot of money.” Verona chuckled. “Like mountains of gold.”

Ferula chuckled. “The Kings and Queens of the United Kingdom could boast that. And that was without magic.”

Verona held Anton’s hand. “You’ve got your work cut out for you then.”

“Speaking of.” Anton began. “I was thinking of giving you a portal set.”

“Our magics already allow us to jump around very easily.” Ferula tilted her head. “I wasn’t actually following you through Graterious.”

“But you can’t take things with you right? Like books.”

“Indeed.” Ferula sighed. “Not even the food in your stomach.”

“If you can give us sixteen near identical stones we can solve that. So that we can…I don’t think you’ll need anything from us, so that we can trade. In a limited sense.”

Ferula bobbed her head from side to side. “Having access to fresh fruits and grains would be a god-send. Do you know the types of fruit that grow in a swamp? They’re disgusting.”

Ferula directed her Shadow Monkey. It retuned with a bag of stones. Ferula frowned lightly as the monkey placed them at her feet, a happy expression on its shadowy form.

“Where did you get this bag?” Ferula sighed as the monkey pointed just outside the door. “And did you take something out of it?”

“Was that one of our bags?” Kal asked.

“No. No.” Ferula furiously waved her hands, Anton didn’t think someone that old should be moving with such dexterity. “I think he just emptied some medical herbs onto the ground. Again.” Ferula scratched the happy monkeys head. “Really, sometimes these things…”

Anton and Kal enchanted the stones to create a portal. Ferula looked on equal amounts surprised and delighted. After establishing both sets in her house, and sending a small cloth through, Ferula was beside herself with happiness.

“This is wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. No more bad food for us. And we can quickly come to your aid.”

“I doubt that you’ll need much help in return.” Anton said snidely.

Ferula chuckled. “You never know. Better that we have somewhere to flee if things get bad.”

“Like if more Bounty Hunters come after you?” Cetina asked.

Ferula nodded. “While we aren’t weak we can’t take on an entire army. Especially if they use mages and tamed beasts like Gryphons and Drakes. Then we’ll be in trouble. But only the royal army has those, and there’s no way they’ll come out this far. Even for me.”

No wonder Cassius want’s us on his side. I’m sure that he has a few tricks up his sleeve too.

“This has been a truly marvellous day. Far better than I thought it could be.” Ferula stood up. “Now, please follow me. I’d like to show you what familiars and summons are capable of. After you’ve disassembled the portal in my home. I don’t want to stumble into it at night. How embarrassing that would be.”

After bundling one portal set Anton led them down the groaning stairs and to the dry mud ground. With every step, his tail brushed against the harsh cloak. While the scales wouldn’t be worn down it still irritated him, the loose threads tried to knot themselves around the spines and the sharp ends became stuck in the weave. Thankfully his feet still just felt odd. Kal coughed before helping adjust his cloak, whispering to direct his tail flat along his legs. A small gathering waited outside. Most were Acolytes like the two from earlier, but four were different. Bounty Hunters; two men and women wearing mud stained metal and padded armour, bound tightly and thoroughly traumatised. And not just physically.

“These…”

“Yes.” Ferula shuffled past them, appearing to use her cane though it never quite touched the ground. “These are the nasty people that tried to kill us earlier.”

“You! You dare consort with witches!” One of the men yelled. A nearby acolyte’s hand glowed green before he wrapping it around his face. “I’m sorry! Please!”

He screamed until Ferula clicked her tongue. The acolyte removed his hand. The man whimpered but resumed his defiant state.

“Please don’t be too harsh with them,” Ferula turned her head towards the path. “I…Oh. It appears there are more of them.”

“More Bounty Hunters?” Anton asked.

Please don’t let it be those children.

“Always someone willing to risk their life for gold.” Ferula sighed. “When will Decimus realise that not even I can help his son.”

“Was that the son that murdered Lord Cassius’s daughter?” Verona asked.

“Ah. So you’ve heard of it.”

“Yeah…She sounded really pretty.”

“Oh, she was.” Ferula swooned, disturbing coming from a hunched ancient lady. “If I was so inclined I would have fallen for her. She even made this one’s old heart throb.”

A few of the acolytes giggled. Ferula glared but they didn’t stop.

“Truly beautiful. I think that’s why his son killed her, he couldn’t stand that someone like that would never love him.” Ferula looked Anton over. “Personality is important but looks are too. I doubt that someone like you, with at least three pretty girls hanging off your arms would have any interest in me.”

“Three?” Cetina asked softly.

“The stories,” Anton continued before Cetina could inquire further. “Said that he…Something that you couldn’t fix? Does that mean it was something so intrinsic that it couldn’t be changed?”

“Yes…”

“The sorties made it sound like he was suffering from inbreeding.” Anton folded his arms. “An oversized bottom jaw and a-”

“How can you speak with people like this?” A female Bounty Hunter asked. Ferula snapped her cane towards her face, she whimpered in pain as a wrist glowed green and bent back at an odd angle.

“Anyway…If it was inbreeding I don’t know if it can be fixed. That would affect nearly every part of his body, not to mention his mind.”

“That would explain it.” Ferula nodded slowly. Anton wasn’t sure if she already knew and simply played along. “Nothing did work. Not even our most powerful spells and magic.”

“So what are you planning to do with these four?” Verona asked, Cetina didn’t look too happy about their predicament.

“Well, since I am unable to give you any of my acolytes yet I was going to give you these four to do with as you please.” A sadistic smirk grew on Ferula’s wrinkled face. “Anything at all…Making them completely and utterly subservient isn’t beyond our abilities.”

“I think I’ll pass,” Anton said. “I am more than happy with the strength of those I have at my side.”

I don’t know how to say I don’t want anything to do with potentially mind altered battle slaves. Especially not my own.

“That’s a shame.” Ferula shrugged. “But not unexpected. They can still serve other uses.”

The four were ushered away without a further word. Verona and Kal looked at him but Anton remained flat and calm. There was little good they could do for them, he very much doubted they would leave Ferula and themselves alone after this.

“What’s going to happen to them?” Cetina asked. “Are you going to break their minds and turn them into slaves?”

“No. But they won’t be a problem anymore.” Ferula said flatly.

Probably going to nourish the swamp, if those other corpses are anything to go by.

“I would have preferred to demonstrate the strength of the Shadow creatures by targeting some of the more rowdy beasts and monsters that plague our swamp, but I’m afraid humans will have to do. Perhaps that’ll be a better example.”

The young girl acolyte ran towards them, her face red and flushed as great clods of mud flew from her rapidly moving boots. “Auntie Ferula! There-”

Ferula smacked the little girl on the head. “How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that in front of others?”

The girl pouted, cutely holding her head. Anton wondered how he compared to her. Could he even win against a new acolyte as he was now? Possibly not. Their victory of Eluria and Sancha was only thanks to their first strike and Verona’s devious use of her blood, not to mention they clearly wanted to flee rather than fight.

“Sorry.” The girl rubbed her head. “There’s twenty people coming down the main road. They’re better armed than the last group…” She looked at Anton. “I don’t mean the last one, I mean the-”

“Keep going girl,” Ferula said slightly annoyed.

“Right. Twenty…And they all look very angry. Some of them are dressed like Principle Mages too.”

“How many?”

“Um…I think four? Maybe five?”’

“What sort of robes were they wearing?” Ferula glanced to Anton. “The Principle Mages can’t help themselves but try and show off how what type of magic they can use. Gives us an advantage though.”

Green flame burst into life over her upturned hand. Anton felt no heat but something moved through the flames. A group of twenty people, armed to the hilt, moved cautiously through the swamp along the narrow mud road.

“One is wearing a blue robe, that’ll be a water mage. Two red. Fire, obviously. And one white, at least it was white before coming here.” Ferula chuckled. "That's a life mage. Normally a healer, in a group such as this, but also quite troublesome for the Shadow creatures. Not that they are going to be much of a problem."

"When we were in Porswea." Anton began. "The mercenaries seemed surprised that a mage would work as a Mercenary. So..."

"Money." Ferula shrugged. "The simplest reason is usually the best. It's very expensive to learn how to be a Principle Mage; books, teachers, paying the academies and institutions is not cheap. Normally only noble families have the wealth to even consider sending someone. A few commoners get lucky and are noticed but usually not. Thirty thousand gold coins would be more than enough to fund just about anything. These look like students, rather than fully fledged Principle Mages. See the markings on their collar?"

"I see two small golden bands...And it looks like there's space for three more." Anton frowned. "Second...Term? Students?"

"Exactly. They have already completed their first and second examinations so they aren't complete weaklings. But...They are far too young and inexperienced to fight us. I don't think Cassius would be pleased knowing his students were coming all this way to die. He can't afford to lose any more fighters."

Guess the upcoming civil war is very well known, or at least Ferula does.

"The four Shadow Jaguars should be enough to deal with them."

"They're not going to hurt Jub and Cub, are they?"

Ferula snacked the head of the little girl again. "Stop giving them names. They are just summoned creatures, nothing more."

The little girl pouted. "It's nicer for them to have names."

"You're twelve. Start acting like it."

She pouted even more, to a comical degree. Ferula turned to the entrance. The four Shadow Jaguar’s, once patiently waiting at the entrance, silently scampered into the swamp.

"Now...Have you seen how Principle Mages fight?"

"No. The only mages we've fought have been Strega Witches."

Ferula chuckled. “Those two were looking to escape rather than truly fight, even if you managed to get a tremendous first strike on them. But fighting one of us and a Principle Mages is quite different.”

Ferula’s green flame only grew as she removed her hand. An acolyte carried a bronze brazier and placed it beneath the flame. The green flame steadied and grew again, Anton heard the sound of boots striking mud and clinking of metal.

Verona smiled. “Can we learn how to do this?”

“Given enough time, perhaps. But it costs a tremendous amount of mana. And you need to know exactly where to look. Personally, those pens are far more interesting. Now, let’s watch, shall we?”

---[]---

“How much further?” Lars grumbled as he trekked through the thick swamp.

Great clods of mud stuck to his boots while stagnant water seeped through his armour and ground against his skin. When he focused hard he was certain he could feel something moving inside the water.

“Stop complaining.” Darius snapped back. He too was suffering from the swamps harsh terrain but endured it better than the others. He kept his longsword drawn and at the ready, two green eyes furiously scanning the surrounding bogs and half rotten trees for any sign of movement. “Our target isn’t some pushover.”

“For thirty thousand gold coins she’d better not be.” A Fire Mage mumbled.

Lars didn’t know their names. Darius had somehow convinced them to join as magical support. Though they had only completed their Second Examination they were clearly no weaklings. But he did not feel comfortable.

“And where are the others?” A female mercenary asked. She wore a thick cloth padded armour, a loaded crossbow in her hands with a short sword and small shield resting on her hip. “We should have already found them.”

Darius sighed. “If they’ve already gone ahead they could have claimed the reward. But I put this thing together. So we’ll be splitting it the way we agreed to.”

“Don’t need to tell me that.” The woman said dismissively.

“Besides, we have these four mages if things get ugly.” Darius raised his hand for everyone to stop. “Do you hear that?”

Lars focused as hard as he could. Insects and small animals chirped and lived their lives but he couldn’t hear anything special. A few heartbeats later he did. Something walking towards them over the water, it sounded light and small but the gaps between the steps were far too long. They grew closer and closer, even with daylight on their side he couldn’t see very far through the twisted logs and willowy trees of the swamp. As his heart reached a bursting pace the noise stopped.

“Where-”

A black shadow tore through a collection of wood, throwing a mixture of splinters and swampy water in all directions. The shadow ran towards them with the speed of lightning. Lars barely saw the shadow, shaped like a dog, grab Darius’s head before both bodies sored over the road and splashed into the swamp on the other side, sending up a torrent of foul green water. A bloodied hand emerged, the green stagnant water turned red, and everything fell silent once again.

“We have to get out of here!” The female mercenary shouted.

“No!” Cried another mercenary, holding onto the shoulder of a trembling Fire Mage. “We need to-”

Another shadow lunged out of the swamp, not as fast as the first. Lars saw that it was indeed shaped like a wolf, but nothing like he had ever seen before. As big as a bear yet with distinct feline features. Some giant cat? Not that it really mattered. It was going to kill them either way.

A mage wearing blue, a Water Mage, stepped forward. A sneer graced his otherwise handsome face. “I’ll handle this.” He raised his staff, a bronze charm lay on top, with a large sapphire in the centre. “Cold winds of the frozen depths, pierce their rotten souls!”

A lance of ice materialised in front of his staff before flying towards the Shadow Creature. The creatures stopped and braced to take the hit. The mage sneered again as the ice lance smashed into its head, felling the beast. It staggered aimlessly before collapsing onto the ground. Instead of blood it leaked a thick black smoke that evaporated into the air.

“Ha! They aren’t so tough.” The mage cheered.

Lars was almost inclined to agree before the creature hauled itself back up. The black smoke regrew and reformed the head. Yellow eyes blinked back into reality. The creature hadn’t taken any damage, yet it didn’t seem angry.

“What?”

The mage slammed his staff into the muddy ground. He chanted another three ice lances, all hovered near his charm until he tipped the staff towards the beast. The beast took the hits again. This time it tore completely through its shadowy hide and obliterated its body. The legs flopped away before faded into nothingness.

“Now…” The blue mage was slightly out of breath. “That’s how we deal with those things. Cover us and-”

A black blob covered his face, red spurted from his neck and drenched his clothes. Lars reached out to grab it but his hands touched a strange shadowy substance. His hands could not properly grasp before a small head towards him. He had seen this before in travelling circus that had come through Graterious. A monkey, but one just like the other shadow creatures. It screeched, Lars’ ears winced in pain, before jumping away with the mage’s head underneath one arm. The female mercenary fired her crossbow at the creature, striking it square in the back. The monkey tumbled, dropping the head into the swampy water, before limping into an open log.

“We need to get out of here.” The female mercenary spoke very softly. “The others are dead. I know it.”

“This was stupid.” A Fire Mage whimpered. His hands held his staff so tight he could barely move. “I want to go home.”

“Everyone fall back.”

Lars didn’t care who called for their retreat, he was about to run anyway. They formed a tight group and began to fall back slowly, their eyes peeled for the shadow creatures. There was at least one still lurking nearby.

“There!” The other Fire Mage cried. She looked very similar to the male Fire mage, a sister perhaps. “Strike the flame!”

Her chant was very short, but her magic was weaker than the Blue Mage. A fireball flew into the swamp. A shadow creature leapt out, its rear burning bright with streaks of Darius’s blood pouring from its maw.

“Strike the flame!” Another fireball flew out and struck the beasts hind again. It was wounded but wasn’t going down yet.

“Brother! I need help.”

“R-Right.” His shaky hands pointed his charm towards the creature. “By the light of the fire, strike down my enemies!”

His fireball was slightly smaller but moved much faster. Lars didn’t understand nor care to. It hit the creatures shoulder, showering it in a great plume of flame. The creature yelped in pain before diving into the swamp. Its body sizzled as the stagnant water extinguished the flames. The creature eyed them off without any feeling as it sunk beneath the water.

“Time to go!”

As Lars turned around his whole body stopped. The road behind had completely disappeared, the swamp continued endlessly towards the horizon. They were stuck on a small strip of land. Stuck in this hell.

“We have no choice but to push forward.” The Life Mage spoke softly. “If we kill the enemy the world will return to normal.”

“Fuck that.” A Bounty hunter yelled out. Almost half agreed with him. “We’ll just go through the swamp. How far can it be?”

“Fool.” The Life Mage spat. “The world has clearly changed.”

The mercenary ignored him and stepped off the end of the land. If he had expected it to be an illusion he was sorely mistaken. His armoured boot sunk deep into the swamp.

“Fuck!”

The mercenary tried to pull himself out but his leg wouldn’t budge. A blood-curdling scream escaped his lips as he fell deeper into the water. Crossbows fired randomly but found nothing. A hard green thorny vine coiled around his legs, the thorns ripped through his armour and skin, great rivulets of blood flowed out and stained the water red. Small humps formed underneath the water moving towards him.

“Help me!” He screamed helplessly. No one budged.

The lumps reached his legs and sunk beneath the water. For a single moment relief dyed his face, but it was short lived. His body slipped down into the water, a final look of stupefaction on his face as his arms flew above his head. Bloody bubbles floated to the surface alongside pieces of flesh.

“Hey!” A young’s girls’ voice called out from the front.

Three people stood on the dirt road. Two men, one perhaps in his adolescence and the other in his twentieth winter, stood either side of a small girl somewhere around her eleventh or twelfth winter. Lars knew something bad was coming. Far worse than what they had just endured.

She pointed an accusatory finger towards them. “You hurt Cub and Jub. That’s not nice!”

“Who is this?” The female Fire Mage asked.

“No idea.” The female mercenary loosed a bolt towards the little girl.

She yelped and threw up her hand. Green smoke coiled before her, enveloping the bolt and suspending it harmlessly in the air.

“Auntie Ferula-” The girl winced as something unseen struck her head. “Said that you need to go. But you wouldn’t leave. So we need to make you leave.”

“They’re just some little kids.” A mercenary brandished his slightly rusted sword. “Cut them down!”

The mercenaries, baring Lars, charged at the three. Lars knew it wasn’t that simple but he found his legs completely unresponsive. The two men hands coiled with smoke. Four large green smoke whips flew out and struck the mercenaries. Metal plate bent and bones cracked, sending some into the water to be devoured by unseen creatures, others simply to snap heads clean off. One almost reached the little girl, his sword already swinging down in a mighty strike to cleave her in two. The smoke around her hands pushed up in a great cloud, throwing him over her and crashing into the ground behind them. She ran towards him as the smoke solidified into a sword, one impossibly big for her to wield. The mercenary sprung to his feet and charged, anger and desperation having overridden any sense. Another coil of green smoke grew around her hand and shot towards the mercenary’s sword. It flew up and out his hands as the little girl swung her sword at his chest. The green ghostly blade careened effortlessly through his chest armour as the little girl dodged to the side. A line of red seeped through. He took a single step forward before his body separated, his upper half travelling several feet until it ground to a halt. His mind couldn’t process what was happening as he tried to crawl away. A blood-curdling scream filled the air as he rolled and tossed about, screaming as his intestines spilled onto the ground. Lars recoiled at the sight, falling down into the mud before crawling behind a large log resting on the edge of the pathway.

“Sorry.” The little girl plunged the ghostly sword into his head.

He gurgled a final cough of blood, his body falling back dead while the green blade fell loose.

The little girl’s mouth swelled. She ran back and vomited a thin, weak liquid. While she was coughing the other two men moved to finish off the remaining mercenaries. They too wielded green ghostly weapons, one a spear and the other a large sword. The Fire Mages readied themselves to attack but couldn’t get a clear line onto the rapidly moving witches. They shared a glance and pointed their staves towards the little girl, still recovering from her splutters.

“Help us!” The female Fire Mage shouted at the White Mage.

The White Mage didn’t reply but his lips were moving. A chant. Lars knew almost nothing about magic but knew the longer the chant the more powerful the magic.

“Fine then.”

Both Fire Mages chanted their magic again, several fireballs hovered in front of their staves. Before they threw them forward the Female Fire Mage raised her hand for her brother to wait.

“Fire of life, that which gives us nourishment and purpose, strike down those that seek to extinguish our righteous cause!”

A small red creature burst out of the charm. It was about the same size as the Shadow Monkey but this was far more humanoid. Its face was drawn to a point, like a dog, while two dark horns grew out the size of its head. A short tuft of flame flickered as its hair. The creature snarled and licked a flaming tongue over its red teeth. In one hand it held a small flaming sword. While its other hand was empty its red claws looked incredibly sharp. Lars felt the heat radiating off the creature.

“Kill that girl!" The female Fire Mage yelled. "Then the others!”

The creature made no acknowledgement but ran towards the little girl, its small legs propelling it with unnatural speed. Flame balls soared over its head. A swirl of green smoke grew in front of the girl as she stood up, wiping away the vomit from her mouth. The male witches held one hand towards her. The fireballs exploded upon contact with the green fog. As the last fireball exploded it left the little girl with only the ghostly green sword to defend herself. The fire creature leapt towards her with its flaming sword aimed at her.

With a flick of her hands, a strange green light grew around her. Strange markings and lines, none of which Lars recognised, burst into reality. The flame creature crashed into the light but couldn’t get through. Green sparks flew up as its claws dug into the green barrier. The creature hesitated before plunging its sword through the barrier. The barrier flickered but held, held long enough for her to transform her sword into a long spear and drive it through its stomach. The flame creature’s mouth swelled before belching a torrent of white-hot fire along the shaft of the ghostly spear and through the gap in the barrier. The girl screamed as the fire consumed her. The fire creature disintegrated into wisps of flame as she emerged blackened and burning. Flesh and clothing had melted together, so too had her hair melted to her skull while the tips burned a greasy smoke. Lars couldn’t see her eyes, now burned out pits, as she flung herself into the swampy water. An arm fell loose and rolled onto the ground, smouldering and twitching as it continued to boil. A violent burst of steam rose from the water as she kicked and writhed in the stagnant water.

The Fire Mages looked happy with their result. The female Fire Mage looked a little wobbly but still held on.

“Fire of life, that-”

The swamp to her side burst open. Another shadow creature, identical to Darius’s killer, leapt out of the swamp. Not just one but two. The Fire Mages didn’t stand a chance. With one bite they were caught and dragged screaming into the swamp. Their staves and charms, the most precious things a mage had, clattered lifelessly to the muddy ground. Pools of blood started to seep into the swamp.

A scream came from the final mercenary as both witches turned on him, cutting and eviscerating his bodyinto tiny pieces. Blood dripped from their green ghostly blades until they were clean once again. Neither directed their attention to the charred body floating in the swamp water, Lars didn’t know if she was still alive or not.

The Life Mage cracked his neck. “And I thought they would have done something better. At least they took out the little one.”

Lar’s wasn’t about to speak up, he could barely hold onto his sword let alone his bowels. There was no way he could muster any strength to fight any of these monsters.

“Aren’t you going to help your friend?” The Life Mage gestured to the little girls’ corpse. They took a single glance but didn’t move to help.

The witches pointed their weapons towards him.

He tapped his staff against the ground. Lars felt his body turning cold, the very warmth drawn from his breath. “Arise. Arise to serve your dread master.”

A wicked smile grew on the Life Mage’s face. Lars always thought he was a little odd, he rarely spoke to others but was always polite and courteous. But this…

The air continued to grow cold. It’s not that it was actually cold, the mud at his feet hadn’t hardened, Lars simply couldn’t feel. He backed away, as far as he could.

A dark green light gathered around the Life Mage’s staff. His charm, a silver circle with a small ring of white gems, began to rot. The silver blackened to obsidian while the gems began to rot. Green light darted through the air like flaming embers. Each tiny ember landed on a mercenary’s corpse. A dull groan filled the air. The bodies began to move once again. Despite their wounds they rose up, their weapons held tight in their shambling and trembling bodies.

A necromancer.

“By the gods.” Lars whimpered.

The necromancer glanced at him. “I thought you were dead. Don’t worry. The gods are real, but they will not save you. No matter how much you scream and beg. Attack!”

The resurrected mercenaries, zombies, lurched forward, a strange green ethereal light leaking from their eyes and wounds. Those cut in half picked themselves up on their hands, ignoring their decapitated lower bodies and shuffled towards their targets. The witches readied their weapons and charged. With every swipe the green light left the zombies’ bodies, but their attacks were slowing. Unlike the mercenaries, they had to push their weapons through the reanimated bodies. Very quickly they began to tire as the zombies continued to push forward. A ghostly strike smashed a zombie’s blade out if its hand. It didn’t care, lunged forward and grabbed the witch by the shoulder. For a moment their eyes connected, the witches living eyes drenched with fear, the hollow green glowing holes staring back, before the zombie pulled down. Flesh tore as the arm ripped free, the witch screamed in pain, kicked the zombie and forced some distance. His weapon faded back into green smoke before it coiled around his stump. He screamed as the clothing hardened around his wound and sealed the blood. As the green mist coiled back into a sword Lars saw the clothing and flesh and mixed together, small spokes and whirls jutting out from his wound.

“This is why I hate witches.” The necromancer grumbled. “Always so tricky.”

He thumped his staff onto the ground again, another burst of green magical energy swarmed into the closest six zombies. Their muscles shuddered as they hunched down on all fours. Bones and muscles clacked and tore as their bodies transformed with a feral bestial howl. Their muscles grew larger, wounds knitted themselves together and their teeth grew longer and sharper. A semblance of life returned to the shambling monstrosities but it wasn’t the mercenaries Lars had known. The necromancy snapped his fingers and the new creatures ran at the two witches, jumping over the shambling zombies and throwing themselves at the witches. A green barrier formed in front of the witches which the monsters smashed themselves upon. Like the flame creature they struggled to smash through, though their strikes were far weaker and climbed to attack them in the rear. While the witches were distracted the zombies drew close and began slamming on the barrier. Great hunks of the shield broke with every strike. Within a few moments, the zombies were forcing their way in through the tiny gaps, screaming as they wildly grasped at their prey.

“This might be tougher than I thought.” The necromancer held his chin. “I should have raided Koumore’s graveyard first…Though I wouldn’t have had these to fight for me.”

“That’s enough I think.”

A voice came from behind the struggling witches. An elderly woman waddled towards them, a rickety cane in one hand could barely hold her weight. The Necromancer frowned and clicked his tongue. He tapped his staff and the zombies and dead creatures backed away. They ignored Lars but he couldn’t help but feel their…lifelessness, pulling at something deep within him. One of the hunched creatures stared at him, a deep hunger in its eyes. It wanted something more than his flesh.

“Now you’re just giving us a bad impression.” The elderly woman sighed. “Though I wasn’t expecting a necromancer to pretend to be a Life Mage.”

“Forgive us.” The one-armed mage muttered.

The elderly woman looked to the floating body of the little girl.

“Take her back and begin healing her.” She ordered with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Don’t let them help her. She’s not allowed to use a substitute for the backlash. Failure needs to be punished.” She glared at the one-armed man, her white milky eyes devoid of any emotion. “The same goes for you.”

“Y-Yes.”

Both men’s weapons faded into mist. They waded into the swamp and recovered her body. It was just as burnt as Lars first thought. Her blackened skin had hardened and cracked at disturbing angles, both her feet had burned away to stumps and so too had her other hand. They wrapped and held her aloft her in the green fog and ran along the road.

“So…You’ve made an embarrassment of my demonstration.” The old woman sighed. “Well, perhaps it wasn’t so bad. A poignant demonstration of how little they understand about magic…But that’s something I’ll have to deal with that later. But it’s not every day I meet a necromancer.”

“Are you suggesting that I’m just some toy to you?” The necromancer asked.

“Perhaps. You aren’t weak, by any means, but nor are you that strong. I’ve seen stronger zombies and ghouls from someone younger than you. But, like all necromancers, you aren’t that strong once your puppets are gone.”

Ferula tapped her cane. The Shadow Monkey emerged from the wooden log, many more after that. A dozen shadow creatures slunk out of the putrid swamp. Before they looked disinterested, now they were angry. Very angry. The necromancer’s zombies and ghouls shuffled nervously. Lars was certain they couldn’t think for themselves yet responded perfectly to their masters thoughts.

“I would like to know who your teacher was. I might have known them. But if I did they’d certainly have told you never to cross a Strega Witch.”

“I’m going to enjoy tearing through your library.” The necromancer laughed. “I imagine you have quite a few secrets in there.”

“We do. But you’re a fool if you think that you can actually get there.” Green mist grew around the woman’s cane. “It’s always disheartening to see someone with potential have all that power go to their heads. You could have been a great necromancer. But now…”

The green smoke continued to coil until the old woman tapped her can again. The shadow creatures lunged into the attack, so too did the dead. The sides smashed into one another, limbs and plumes of black smoke flew into the air.

“W-How?” The necromancer spat out. Even Lars knew what had happened. He had challenged someone far beyond his strength.

“It’s not that difficult.” The old woman emerged from behind the necromancer, a ghostly blade hovering above her hand. “It just requires training and patience.” The ghostly sword flicked towards his skull. “But you’ll never know that.”

The dead creatures stopped, the green light faded from their bodies. At once they collapsed to the ground, completely unmoving and unresponsive. The shadow creatures prodded a few. Content they were truly dead they pushed them into the swamp.

“I…” The necromancer spluttered a final cough of blood. His hands twitched before his body swayed and fell face forward into the mud. His feet kicked up, throwing a final clod of mud into the air before he joined the dead creatures.

The old woman approached him, seemingly ignoring Lars, and used the smoke to lift away his white stained cloak.

“Let’s see here…” She frowned lightly. “Not that much with you. But you do have this.”

She ripped a large book free, a very fine large metal trimmed book secured with a massive lock. The green haze broke it open in under a heartbeat. Her face widened in surprise as she flicked through the pages.

“Ah. A book written by Gorash. Very nice. I don’t have this one…I wonder where you found it.” She looked at his body and shrugged. “I could ask you but necromancy isn’t my speciality.”

She snapped the book closed and passed it to a shadow monkey. The shadow monkeys descended upon the necromancer’s corpse and stripped him of anything valuable. They began to collect the mages staffs and loot the bodies of any coins.

“Now…” The old woman turned to Lars. “What do we do about you?”

Lars couldn’t move, couldn’t even think, as the woman looked at him with complete disinterest. She nibbled on her fingernail.

“It would be easier for me to get rid of you…But…People will still keep coming. Now, if people just keep disappearing there will be people that won’t believe it and keep coming. But if I let you go then there’ll be those seeking a challenge. Or that simply don’t believe it. So what to do?”

She looked Lars up and down with her blind milky white eyes.

“Go. I don’t think you’re going to be coming back again. Will you?”

Lars mustered what mental strength he had left and shook his head.

“Good. Now, run along.” The old woman pointed with her cane across the empty swamp. Now it wasn’t empty, the pathway had returned as if it was never gone. “Take some of their coin too. I’m sure you’ll need the alcohol to wash away the memories of what happened here.”

A Shadow Monkey approached with several silver plates and rings in its hands. Lars gingerly took them, not knowing if his head was about to be separated from his shoulders, and turned to run.

“If anyone asks you tell them that the swamp took them and you ran. Understood?”

“Y-Yes.” Lars croaked out.

The old woman chuckled. “You still have a voice? Good. Good. Now, run along. Before I change my mind.”

Lars did not hesitate and ran as fast as his trembling legs could carry him.

---[]---

Anton watched in silence as the two acolytes returned with the charred body of the little girl. His stomach churned to see such a person in such a state, even though thousands had died by his own hand in an equally gruesome manner.

“Is she dead?”

The Acolyte missing his arm shook his head. “Not yet. She was smart enough to curse herself before throwing herself into the swamp. It’s going to hurt when she’s better.”

“I can heal her.” Anton stepped forward, slightly wary of the green fog. “So long as she’s not dead I-”

The one-armed man stopped him. “Ferula said that she cannot receive that style of healing. She will be restored by the Curse of Renewal. It will restore her body completely, missing limbs and all.”

“Then why is it a curse?” Verona asked as she approached the floating body. She recoiled when the little girl's charred lips quivered ever so slightly. “I mean, why the fuck don’t you want Anton or Kal to heal her? They can do it basically with a snap of their fingers.”

“Ferula told us so.”

The two acolytes carried her into a house. Anton grumbled as they shut the door.

“Fucking hell.”

“I think we should go the first chance we can get,” Kal said softly.

Anton agreed with all his heart. However, he simply couldn’t just up and leave. Ferula could clearly teleport easily. If they ran she would probably just bring them back. And it was quite clear that she wasn’t someone to cross.

I guess we really did get lucky with Eluria and Sancha.

Ferula emerged from behind an acolyte, still limping on her cane. “How was the demonstration?”

“Terrifying,” Anton replied truthfully. “For just about every reason. It seems that we still have a lot to learn.”

“You do. But you saw what some of your magic is capable of. The female Fire Mage…that was a level two fire summon. Yours will be slightly different, Principle compared to Glyph magic, but you can see what just one can do against a somewhat competent magic user. Imagine what it was like when nearly everyone could use stronger magic than that.”

Ferula turned to the house and sighed. Anton didn’t understand how she could treat her acolytes with such indifference to their suffering, especially one she had spoken with so fondly just before.

“Will she survive?”

“Probably. Perhaps by spring she will be back together in one piece. Though…Her mind might be ruined from the pain.”

“Why not use Anton’s and Kal’s powers?” Verona asked again.

“Because that is not our way,” Ferula spoke calmly.

Is it that Tethra’s power is hostile to yours? I could brush away the Strega magic pretty easily with Tethra’s. Would it ruin a Strega Witch? Something to keep in mind.

“But he said that it was a Curse of Renewal,” Anton said. “How is that a curse?”

Ferula grinned a toothy grin. “Because our magic extracts a toll. It is very versatile, like Tethra’s, but instead of requiring exorbitant amounts of magic, it requires an exchange of pain and suffering.” Ferula chuckled. “A considerable amount of pain that no medication can dull.”

She turned to a patiently waiting acolyte. “Bring him here. I want to show what Curses can do.” The acolyte nodded and scampered away.

“What you saw is one way we can use our magic.” The green fog gathered in front of Ferula’s hand. Anton felt Cetina’s rage slowly bubble beneath a clam feigned exterior. “Though it takes considerable practice and effort to form it into something like a weapon. Most of the time it’s just easier to keep it as a cloud and strike with that, though it’s more easily destroyed. Like you found out in your previous battle.”

“Indeed.”

“The other are curses. It’s somewhat similar but…It’s easier just to show you.”

The one-armed acolyte stepped down the rickety step holding the remains of his arm. A crude amalgamation of flesh and his clothing had knitted itself together to stem the flow.

“Forgive me, Ferula.” The man’s face was whiter than before, a slight jitter to his step and fingers.

“You simply need more training and practice.” Ferula green smoke gathered around his stump. “Do you have something to bite down on?”

An acolyte presented a piece of wood. He placed it in his mouth and nodded once.

“Someone hold him. He won’t be standing after this.”

Ferula whispered something, a language Anton didn’t understand, and the smoke glowed brightly. Out of the fog, the man’s arm began to regrow. Small bundles of muscle and skin grew out of the ether, knitting themselves back together. Anton saw the man’s face. The pain searing across his eyes, his very soul, was unimaginable. Sweat poured from his skin after travelling but a centimetre. His pants grew wet, a light yellow liquid pooled at his feet as pieces of the wood began to splinter free.

“Fucking hell,” Verona mumbled. She pulled Anton back and closer to them. “I prefer your magic.”

Ferula chuckled. “I can see why you’d think that. But with this we can restore almost anything. Even something damaged, not matter where it is on your face.”

Cetina violently shook her head. “I’m fine with what I have right now. So don’t think about handing me over to them.”

The man needed support just to stand up. Four moved to his side and stopped his body from falling any further. Anton smelt something far worse, Kal wrinkled her nose at the merest whiff. It wasn’t surprising that his bodily functions would let go after enduring so much pain. No one spoke a word until his arm had completely been restored. Ferula flicked a finger and the smoke dissipated. The acolyte had bitten down so hard that the wood had almost been cut in two. No life remained in his eyes as they dragged him away.

“Is…He going to be alright?” Anton asked.

“Given him about thirty days and he’ll be fine,” Ferula replied. “But until then it’ll be a miracle if he can even move. He’ll be able to use his magic just as well afterwards, so no worry there.”

That part really doesn’t worry me.

“If his mind doesn’t break, that is. It’s called a curse for a reason. In return for restoring his arm,\ he will suffer nightmares for the next thirty days alongside excruciating pain. I know you’ve all had bad dreams before but they are nothing compared to this. Think of your worst fears imaginable playing out a thousand times every heartbeat.” Ferula held her chin. “I suppose the only good thing is that it’s so painful that you don’t remember much, at least not until the end where you become more lucid.”

Cetina would be down for a few weeks at best, if it can actually heal Ghlyirl infested flesh.

“The length of time is proportional to how much is restored. That girl will be in…considerable pain for a long time. But it also depends upon the curse. If it were something like a Mental Corruption curse all you would feel would be a constant yet deep headache.”

Anton glanced at Cetina. “That makes some sense…I think that we have seen enough for today, Ferula.” Anton bowed. “Thank you for the tomes and books. We will make good use of them and make Atros strong enough to retake the entire Kingdom. Though I cannot guarantee the day.”

Ferula laughed. “I look forward to it. My apologies for the unsightly display. I wanted to show you how to fight against mages, but I didn’t anticipate a necromancer being a part of their group.”

But you could see our spirits before, that’s how you knew Kal was a Beast-kin despite being covered. Did you not see what he was? Or was it just to demonstrate your own power?

“I’m presuming you got something out of it.” Anton nodded to the large book she had taken. “That looks pretty expensive.”

“Its value is above things such pretty trinkets like silver and gold.” Ferula eyes widened as she looked at the Mage’s staffs. “Do you want any of those staffs? If you don’t you could easily sell them.”

“I think we will even though it’ll be some time before someone can actually use them.” Anton smiled. “But, as you said, we must return to the ship and continue with our journey.”

“Of course.” Ferula waved to some acolytes that ran out of the hamlet and along the swamp path. “The path is properly restored and safe. The Shadow Jaguars will ensure the creatures of the swamp will stay away, with all that blood they’re going to be very active.”

Verona coughed. “What about the guy you let go? If he’s heading to Koumore we’ll catch up to him.”

“Don’t worry about that. I cast a tiny spell on him. He’ll run straight to Koumore and won’t stop for anything. He’s also safe from any sort of nasty beasts or monsters.”

Anton nodded. They untied the horses and readied to leave.

“Please contact us again if you need help,” Ferula said as they mounted their horses. “But only after the winter. Otherwise, you’ll only have my acolytes to help, rather than my students. They are much stronger than what you saw earlier.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Anton gently whipped the reins. “Thank you Ferula. I hope to see you again soon.”

“Good luck with your journey.” Ferula waved, as did the acolytes. “May the land of the Kar Kingdom sing once more with the sound of laughter and life.”

Anton forced himself to return the wave, so too did the girls but it was very forced. With a final glance, they sped out of the hamlet, not sparing a glance back or exchanging a word until they left the fetid, humid and disturbing swamp behind.