Malan and the Arcanists had worked all night and as the morning sun burned off the heavy jungle vapours, a complex circle sat on the heavy flagstones that covered the central square of the island.

“It’s a summoning circle,” Serena gushed, scribbling furiously in her notebook. “I doubt even the citadel arcanists could manage to do one, I asked Malan and he says none of them really understand it, they just memorised it. Can you imagine? Memorisation!”

From Konrads perspective there had been more than simple recollection to the creation of this circle. The arguments between the short arcanists had been ferocious, with much snatching of chalk and angry scuffing away of others work. Eventually though, the symbols were complete and Konrad stared at a circular image that seemed to slide away from his gaze even as he concentrated on it.

The tiny arcanists shoo’d them backwards and Odred stepped forwards. The old elf ceremoniously licked his finger and touched it to the circle and it flared into life, bright white even under the cloudless sky. The circular wall of light rose higher and higher, until it was ten feet tall, and then it faded away, leaving a very confused dwarf standing it its place, holding a half eaten sandwich.

“Wha—?” the dwarf said before Odred jabbered to his colleagues and touched the circle again. The wall of light flared up again and all of the arcanists began shouting at once.

“Just working through some issues,” Malan explained.

Harper jumped off of his shoulder and flapped down to the circle that was still blazing with magical energy. The Imp scratched at his chin, then scuffed one of the chalk lines into a slightly different shape with his clawed foot.

The light faded again and this time another dwarf stood in the circle, blinking and staring around, stunned. He wore a leather apron and held a pair of tongs that gripped a gently smoking horse shoe.

“Pääbo?” Konrad exclaimed.

“Thats.. that’s never Konrad?” The dwarf replied.

The arcanists jumped around patting each other on the back and chattering excitedly and while Konrad introduced the dwarf blacksmith to his companions.

“I’ll not say it’s not nice to see you champion, because it is, but,” Pääbo licked his lips, looking around at the upturned faces of twenty bearded elven arcanists.

“What am I doing here?”

-

An hour later, Pääbo stood in the Hedron chamber surrounded by jabbering elves while he inspected the damaged artefacts, each time the dwarf spoke the arcanists nodded sagely.

Serena hovered around the group, furiously scribbling in her notepad, while Renau sat glumly off to one side.

“How do they know he’ll be able to repair them?” Briarstone asked.

“Perhaps Malan saw it,” Konrad replied.

Pääbo had once asked Konrad to get him some Linum, so the dwarf must have some experience with the material. But whatever project Pääbo might be working on, Konrad didn’t want to betray his trust by telling Briarstone.

Malan approached Konrad and Briarstone, pushing his huge headdress back onto his head. “If you come with me, I’ll show you the idol.”

Renau made to join them, but Odred held out his staff and shook his head. “You stay here, fancy man,” the older arcanist snapped and Renau grumbled and sat back down.

Night was coming to the island as Malan lead them back up towards the summit. Spirit slipped out of the jungle to pad along beside them and Harper clutched Malan’s headdress, his eyes locked onto her and a small flame flickering on one clawed fingertip.

A small pedestal sat in the centre of the conservatory of the arcanists, lit by a shaft of pale moonlight that entered through the hole in the dome.

“What do you think?” Malan asked.

“Another illusion?” Briarstone asked, staring pointedly at the empty pedestal.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Hmm? Oh sorry.” Malan pulled off his headdress and reached inside, extracting a gold figurine no larger than Konrads hand and placing it reverently before them.

The statue was clearly made in the shape of a humanoid figure wearing a long robe, but it was so ancient and worn that hardly any of its features could be made out.

“Why is it so important?” Konrad asked.

“If you can manage to catch the thief, I’ll tell you,” Malan replied.

Konrad looked to Briarstone, who scratched his beard. “Best way to catch a thief is to bait a trap I’d say. Can’t say I’d be much help fighting a champion of the gods though, so that part would be up to you.”

Malan produced a pair of manacles and handed them to Konrad. “These should be enough to contain her powers, if you can subdue her.”

Konrad recalled his humiliation at Issie’s hand and nodded. “I have an idea.”

-

A shadow passed over the hole in the top of the dome and Spirit nudged Konrad to warn him. He patted her head gently and she slipped into the shadow to warn Briarstone.

A dark figure slowly descended from the roof on a fine rope no thicker than a finger width, slowly twisting through the air in the centre of the chamber. The figure paused for a moment, seeming to listen, then continued downwards, reaching out and taking the small idol.

“Champions shouldn’t be thieves,” Konrad said, stepping out of the shadows.

There was a sudden intake of breath and the figure began to pull themselves back up the rope, but the twang of a crossbow string came from behind the stone chairs and the rope was neatly severed, sending the figure tumbling onto the floor.

Konrad exhaled and covered his entire body with a thick layer of ice crystals as the figure got to their feet.

But it wasn’t Issie that stood before him, it was Alice.

Her red hair was cut short at the neck and curled slightly inwards. The eyes were the same, brown and light, and her voice chased away the shadows.

“How?” Konrad croaked, reaching out a frozen hand towards her.

“Konrad I found you. I missed you. Let’s go home, forget the quests.”

Konrad nodded. Alice was right, why was he here when they could be back in Fallow Vale?

“Forget being a hero. I only ever wanted you for you, can’t you see that?”

She took a step forwards, gazing up at him, and Konrad blinked. There was a texture to her words which he had heard somewhere before, but which now stuck out like a discordant note in a bards song.

And why was she so short? Alice had never had to look up at him before.

Alice seemed to notice Konrad’s attention drifting and in the blink of an eye she had changed. Now the girl in front of him had short back hair, hawkish features and dark clothing. “What was it, the dress? I knew it would be something silly, should have gone with flowers.”

“Alice is taller,” Konrad rasped.

Issie hit her forehead with the palm of her hand. “Height, there’s always something.”

“If you give me back the idol, I’ll let you go,” Konrad said, regaining his composure.

Issie’s relaxed expression changed in an instant and her glare seemed hot enough to melt the layer of ice that coated Konrads body.

“You’ll let me go?” She said, her voice sharp enough to cut the air between them. “I go where I please, Konrad.” She slipped the golden figure into a pocket and took a step towards the door.

A low growl came from the shadows and Issie halted. “Call your dog off, I don’t like hurting animals,” she said, turning back around to face Konrad.

Konrad stood his ground, wisps of cold coming off of him in lazy spirals. “I don’t want to fight you,” he said.

“You think you can fight me? You’re only half a champion. Look at your powers; shadows, healing, the power of the cold, all things any old arcanist could do. What you need to do, is get creative.”

Issie turned to the dark area at the back of the chamber. “Protect me,” she called, and her voice was like honey.

Briarstone stepped out, cutlass in hand. His face was slack and his eyes were fixed on Konrad.

“Try not to make a mess,” Issie added, putting her hands on her hips.

A smile of expectation crept across her face as Briarstone lumbered up behind her, but her eyes bulged as the first manacle snapped onto her wrist. With her free hand she struck Briarstone, but the old sailor moved like water sliding past the bow of a ship and her blow went wide.

Unfortunately he wasn’t quick enough to avoid her knee and he gave a sound like a wounded kitten as it crunched into his groin. A final kick from Issie sent him sliding across the floor in a small ball of private pain.

“Just remember I tried to help you,” Konrad said sadly. He hadn’t moved while Issie attacked Briarstone and now he held a long spear of ice in his hand.

Issie panted, rage transforming her face. She thrust her hand forward, conjuring a burning, spitting ball of fire and hurling it towards Konrad.

The molten core hit him in the stomach passing right through the frozen illusion, hitting the far wall of the chamber.

Konrad and Spirit stood behind her, both enveloped in shadow. He clasped Issie’s shoulder and poured a blast of cold directly into her body. She dropped to her knees, numb, and Konrad seized her wrist, snapping the second manacle closed.

-

Briarstone sighed and uncurled from the foetal position as Konrad healed his wounds.

“Next time, you can be the decoy,” Konrad promised.

“What?” Briarstone said, reaching up to pull out the wool that he had stuffed into his ears.

“I said next time you can be the decoy.”

Briarstone glanced over to Issie, who sat shivering against the curved wall, glaring at the two of them. “It was a good plan, I just didn’t expect her to kick like a mule,” he muttered.

The doors flew open and Spirit led in Malan and Odred, followed by a small crowd of chattering elven arcanists. They cheered gleefully as they took Issie into custody, locking her in the cage they had used for the trial of Konrad and his friends the day before.

“What will you do with her?” Konrad asked as Malan approached.

“We have already passed judgement on her, until then we can keep her locked away. Did you retrieve the idol?”

“No, she has it,” Konrad replied.

“We searched her, it is not in her possession.”

Issie, leaned against the bars. She smirked at Konrad and winked.