A cacophony thrummed in her ears, the thunderclap vibrating in her chest. Spasms of pain pelted her skin. Explosions of fire belched out and engulfed her, the afterglow blistered her back. Julie arched away from the monsoon of shrapnel burrowing into her limbs.

Confusion crept through her mind like fog, ponderous and opaque. The world rocked in chaos and agony.

What the hell is going on?

The repugnant stench of burnt hair hung in the dust-filled air.

Oh my God, the old man! Where is he?

Julie rose, adrenaline coursing through her. She spied him standing vigil against the storm of anarchy, protecting her from the unseen. Another violent eruption flung them both to the ground, and she screamed his name.

“Judas!” She struggled to stand, but he held her down.

He is stronger than he looks!

His grip never faltered, clamping down on her arm like a vise. Again, she tried to rise; this time, her eyes settled on a woman. She remembered now, though vaguely—the blonde woman was with them, too. Hostile before the pandemonium, but now she stood as a watchful sentinel.

I can feel something…what is that buzzing in my head?

Another detonation cleaved the air and threw her to the ground. The man fell on top of her, sheltering her from the fragmented rock. An earsplitting resonance tolled. Julie clamped her hands over her ears. She still couldn’t see who was attacking them or why. Nothing made sense. The old man let her up, and pain lanced through her as she stood.

Shadows danced beneath her feet. Glancing up, the sky swirled in a dark smog. Ominous clouds obscured what felt like the last rays of a dying sun. A tenebrous ring descended like a sudden hush. Streetlights flickered as the darkness deepened.

Movement above drew her attention. Gargoyle statues stirred, the encasing falling away. Cement eyes crumbled to reveal blood-red orbs. The masonry shattered as one turned its head towards her, a hunter sensing prey. Animalistic screams sheared the air between razor sharp teeth. Massive, leathery wings unfolded, casting off the last of the crumbling stone to the street below. It leaped for her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed the man and woman raise their hands, small wooden sticks pointing at the oncoming beast. Her heart fluttered like vibrating glass from the crackle of rushing thunder. Whatever her guardians were going to do, it was too late. She turned away, ducking behind them and covering her head.

She waited for the end.

----------------------------------------

Chapter 1

Judas Lakayre stepped back into his world, passing through the Mirror of Imaesion, a gateway between the two planets. His robes still smoldered from his encounter; rips and tears peppered his ruined clothing.

I need to change, the bleak thought entered his mind. That didn’t matter now; surviving did.

His knee gave out and struck the stone floor. For once in his life, he wished the dungeon had the same lush, phthalo-blue carpet as the rest of the castle.

Daylynn Reese, with her honey-colored hair and blue eyes, tumbled ungracefully in after him. She appeared even more disheveled. Atz and Lurx—the guardians of the Mirror of Imaesion—came in on her heels and looked the nimblest out of the original quartet. A young, anemic woman with golden brown hair—like Daylynn’s—and delicate features lay unconscious in Judas’s arms, her mass light but lifeless and unwieldy. Judas puffed a few breaths before he rearranged her in his arms. She wore different clothing than Judas and Daylynn: a shirt that clung to her body, and blue farmer trousers.

“I told you not to bring her back!” Daylynn snapped, sitting up on the floor. “You shouldn’t defy the will of the council!” She glared at the young, unconscious woman.

“That’s your opinion, mine is of a different nature,” Judas retorted. When Judas made up his mind, no Underworld forces could spur him to change. “You expect me to leave her to die? Would you want me to leave you to die?”

“The council will make you return her.” Daylynn’s proclamation lacked conviction. Judas’s poignant remark about leaving her to die hit home. He hadn’t. The warlock had saved her life.

“They will try and fail!” he replied. “She’d perish if I did. She’s not a book borrowed from the library; you can’t return her.”

“She’ll die if she stays!” Daylynn jabbered. “No one survives. It’s impossible! You’ve doomed the girl because of your damn foolishness!”

“So, she was meant to die either way. At least here she has a chance!” Judas aimed a glance towards the two dwaven, checking their wellbeing.

“Why hasn’t she woken?” Daylynn asked.

The warlock touched the girl’s face, pausing. “She is under my sleep-induced spell. She won’t wake.” His eyes trained back to the tall, long-legged woman. “Make your report.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” A dark fury sparkled in her eyes.

“Make your report,” he repeated, sidestepping an argument.

“No, I won’t! Tell me what the hell you meant by ‘make your report?’” she demanded, vehement. She gritted her teeth.

“You know the meaning, as does everyone else, Daylynn. Do you need or want me to spell it out? Make your statement. I will be back to do mine later.”

“When?”

“When I have time!” he snapped, his voice echoing off the cold, damp gray stone. A flicker of chagrin crossed his features. He pushed his shoulder-length hair out of his face. “Forgive me. I don’t know. I need to find out how they tracked us, and more importantly, what happened to the Kothlus Trilogy. Get Kayis and inform the council.”

“It’s too late. No one is up.”

Judas gave her an incredulous expression. “The consul’s awake. He’ll be waiting for you, and when you tell him what I did, he’ll call for a special session.”

“Your absence? What do I say about that?”

Judas looked down to the young woman in his arms. “Tell them the truth: ‘Exiled warlock defies council and is on the run, Consul Kayis Dathyr livid.’ Should make for gripping headlines for the New Suns Times. I’m sure Toddison Wynters will like that story.”

She nodded, gathering her robes and retreated up the spiraling stone stairs in haste.

Judas watched her disappear around the bend before turning to the two remaining individuals of the party. Both dwaven, shorter cousins of the dwandur, donned magic-imbued armor. Atz’ armor gave a muffled creak as he stirred, shifting on his feet, and gleamed a shade redder in the light of torches resting in their sconces. In daylight, his plate held a vermillion hue with highlights of scarlet. Black runes were etched throughout his chest plate, pauldrons, shield, and the top side of his helm. Lurx, his partner, appeared identical except a shade of light cobalt blue with arctic blue trim.

The warlock spoke to Atz first. “Go, find Meristal. I need her. She’ll know how to find me.” The vermillion-plated dwaven faded on the spot, carrying out his orders.

Judas turned to Lurx. “Stay behind and warn me if anyone comes back through or down here to check on the mirror.”

“Even if it’s the council?”

“Especially if it’s the council.”

“The Wcic?” Lurx inquired, nodding to the young woman in Judas’s arms.

“She’ll come with me.”

“To your manor? Is that wise?”

The warlock shook his head. “No, not at all. They’ll search for me there first. We’re going on the run until I find out who or what is chasing us.”

Without another word, Judas disappeared, teleporting away.

The swirling blue mist faded, and his feet touched hard stained oak floor. He paused, holding his breath, making sure he was alone. Though the hour was late and most of the realm slept, one could never be completely sure. Satisfied, he carried the young woman deeper into the room, weaving between tables and chairs, slipping between towering bookshelves. Once out of view of windows he knelt, and with gentle ease, laid the girl on the floor. With a flourish, he pulled off his traveler’s cloak and tucked it around her small form.

A light touch of his hand to her forehead assured him that she still slept, but his magic trembled a warning.

Somewhere beneath the abyss of magical currents he placed on her, she slithered out and became aware. Whether conscious of him or that she was sleeping, he couldn’t say. Her mind became sharp, focused, and her push against his will was akin to pressure against his skin. Her rally came like a sudden storm—a raw and unrefined energy, not something a master of his craft would project, but more like a novice unsure of a new-found power.

His hand withdrew from her forehead; his robes swished in the silence. Her concentration snapped to the sound, almost as if awake, and again she pushed, much harder this time. The assault itself startled Judas. The exertion strong, overbearing. Her potential … breathtaking. While lacking the strength to break his hold, nowhere near strong enough, her aptitude came like a gust of fresh frost compared to the stale wizards of the capital—Ralloc—filled with wizards holding prestigious ranks and honors, a shadow of the men and women who came before. In her simple thrust, he never doubted she would surpass them with the slightest bit of training. In time, who knew where she would go or what she would achieve? He smiled to himself. As far as capability goes, if there ever was a worthy heir … he let the thought die.

With half of the night spent, he’d wait until dawn to move her. Judas peered out into the darkness, the large room’s interior lit by magelight, small spheres of white, heatless luminance. The dim magelight launched long shadows through the large, expansive room. In the stillness, Judas stood, listening, watching, waiting.

Idly, he wondered where Daylynn was now. She would go to the consul and orate what transpired. Some things never changed.

When Kayis Dathyr found out, he’d send others to track the warlock down. For a moment, he worried, not for their abilities, but who he might need to battle to keep from being apprehended. No one had the jurisdiction to stop him, not anymore. Kayis was like a dog with jaws clamped around the throat of his prey; he would never let it go. He would feel slighted and seek retribution.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

Judas sighed. The night settling around him. He wondered what made him think of this place, undoubtedly because he was here only this morning. Ironically, he figured this was the last place his enemies would search. It bought him a few hours at the very least.

His azure gaze swept the small library, flickering to the familiar table he sat at earlier that morning, writing, waiting for his court proceedings. A memory of the young librarian waltzed before his eyes like a phantom.

The librarian rounded the small table and sat across from him.

“Excuse me, sire,” the boy whispered.

Judas stopped scratching; his cool blue eyes fell on Sam’s face. The boy shivered, rattled by his scrutiny. “There’s an Essence Transference you could—” the boy floundered.

“Yes, I know,” he whispered back. He tried to keep his voice warm and kind, pleasant. He returned to his work.

“If you know about the Transference, why don’t you use it?”

“Just because it can be done easier doesn’t mean it should be,” he countered as he scratched the quill against parchment.

“Yes, but you’ve been here all morning. Wouldn’t you want to save some time?”

“Not at the moment. I’ve no particular place to be, so this place is as good as any. Don’t you agree?” Judas glanced up from his writing to the librarian before carefully setting the quill to parchment, copying again.

A thought, something close to his own, filtered through his mind. Similar to an impression, a weighted certainty, the thought-emotion rolled over him, and he knew what the librarian thought.

“No,” Judas reproved, still maintaining the quiet whisper.

“No, what?”

A calm certainty entered his voice, and he glanced back up. “I’m not insane.” Sam leaned back, wariness settled over his face.

Again, the weighted certainty crept over him, the youth reevaluating him. Many thoughts flashed through, some that called out were strong and distinct, others were weak and feeble, wrestling to discover Judas’s identity, knowing the youth wouldn’t drop his line of inquiry regarding the Transference.

“But if you know the Transference,” the librarian pressed, “and you have nowhere else to be, would it not be wiser to spend—”

Judas laid down his quill, his movement indolent as the stubbornness rose within and reached his eyes.

“I don’t have anywhere else to be because later I’ll be needed here, in the Kothlus Castle. Why leave only to return in a little while?” He distinguished a slight nod of understanding from Sam. “Nowhere to be, nowhere I wish to go, because chances are, I’ve already been there. After all that I’ve seen and done, the library is a pleasant change of pace. Also, the Essence Transference won’t work on this particular volume.” He picked up his quill, grabbed a new piece of parchment and began copying again. The curator waited, breath bated for a few heartbeats, hoping for an elaboration.

“Why won’t it work?”

The other stopped and scrutinized him with mild shock, “Don’t they teach you anything in school anymore? This book is old! Perhaps ten ages old, maybe more. The Essence Transference only discovered in the last age or so. It’s a new concept, one I’ve often thought on and experimented with but never quite developed. I lack the time or the patience,” the elder said, his voice soft and distant. Sam frowned at his proclamation, but Judas saw the skepticism on his face. “You don’t know who I am, do you?” The librarian shook his head. Amusement filled the warlock’s voice. “You didn’t pay attention in school, did you? Especially about the Wizard’s War?”

“You seem familiar to me,” the young man spoke up before he could stop himself, “but I don’t recall you off the top of my head. And I haven’t been in school for at least a half-score of years.”

“A half-score of years?” Judas smiled a gentle, patronizing grin, more to himself than at Sam. Even his tone carried a mild edge of mockery. “I should seem familiar to you,” he tutted. “The Transference works on a different thread of physics. If I were to do the Transfer to this very old volume full of knowledge and history, we would lose it forever. This volume is bound by different laws of magic than those governing the Transference. In short, I would destroy it trying to implement it. Now, would you still like me to try?”

Sam shook his head, dumbfounded.

“The thought of the Essence Transference is an intriguing one, I must admit.” The older man tapped his finger on the table absentmindedly, his eyes flickered to the mahogany.

“How so?”

The blue eyes slid back to the librarian. “The applications for Transference are near-limitless. It could revolutionize the way we learn, for example. In theory, you could transfer the contents of a book to your mind, learning everything within a matter of minutes. While this would be excessive but necessary for education and matters of law, it wouldn’t hone someone’s skill with a sword. The only way to learn to fight is to practice, like the Krey in Outpost Dire. They train day in and day out no matter the weather, politics, or season. There are also limitations to it, such as the old volume.” Judas patted the tome affectionately.

Sam was silent for a few heartbeats before rising from his seat. “Would you like some more ink?”

“Thank you, but not necessary. They’re coming for me.” Judas began to collect his things.

A flutter of magic ushered Judas out of the recollection, his hand reaching for his wand. He pulled his essence around him, shrouding himself, dampening his presence. Whoever came into the library wouldn’t know what hit them until too late.

A delicate whistling sound filtered through, accompanied by faint chimes. Judas paused, making certain of what he heard before lowering his wand. He hurried down the aisle and turned the corner, coming face to face with an effulgent ball of light.

A smile came to his face. “Fiosana! What brings an elder fairy here?”

The fairy returned his smile. “Warlock Lakayre. I came to see her, the mage you brought back.”

Suspicion lanced through him. “How did you find out about her arrival?”

Fiosana gave him an admonishing look. “Don’t be coy, young Judas. We fairies have our ways. It’s not a secret.”

The word ‘secret’ triggered his memories, his master coming back to the forefront of his mind.

“This book is for the Bearer of Secrets only, okay?” the gnomling instructed. The language of the wizards, Myshku, was foreign to his tongue, and he only spoke with questions or cutting and crass statements. Politeness and rules of etiquette remained a lost mystery to him. On occasion, he would use the wrong type of word when speaking. A smile came to Judas’s face as he recalled his last and greatest master. “You shall never glimpse the pages, but can you understand the Bearer of Secrets is not a foe? You are entrusted with a special task—my greatest pupil—will you search out the Bearer for the rest of your life? You will do this! My faith is placed correctly, yes?”

“Yes, master,” Judas’s young voice sounded hollow in the reflection, but he endured his promise to the gnomling.

That had been the last time Judas ever saw his teacher, three ages ago, over three thousand years in the past.

I need to get his book before I set out with the girl. But it’s at home. Damn!

The fairy’s words quickly guided him back to the moment at hand.

“I have come to witness her, and you wouldn’t let her out of your sight. Where is she?”

Judas warred with himself, between being polite and complying or standing his ground, expecting more. He decided to stand. “What do you want with her?”

“That’s my business.”

“Mine as well. I brought her back, I’m responsible for her well-being .”

“Do you think I would harm an innocent child? She is defenseless.”

“Child? She’s well over the Age of Maturity and has me to protect her.”

The fairy paused, her head tilting to the side. “You’re acquainted as to why I’m here, aren’t you?”

Judas snorted in derision. “The fairy prophecy? Prophecies aren’t real. Superstitious words by addled minds of wise men and women from long ago.”

“To you, perhaps. While I agree with your sentiments, this particular one is ours. Do you know the words?”

Judas shook his head. “It wouldn’t matter even if I did.”

“Would it not? How old do you think our prophecy is?”

“Very.”

“It came to pass because of you, Judas Lakayre.” The words gave him pause, his eyes widened. “Do you not know? Your lack of awareness only further proves the truth. The first line of the prophecy dictated your actions legends before your birth.” She chuckled at him, serene. “‘Beyond the pall that rend the realms, one of balance shall supervene.’ Don’t you understand? We predicted the separation of the realms.”

Judas gestured over his shoulder toward the unconscious girl beyond their line of sight. “She’s not the first to cross over, to come back!”

Fiosana smiled, nodding. “You’re correct, but she’ll be the first one to live. I shall make sure.”

A dark glimmer crossed the warlock’s face. “You mean you had the ability to save all the other Wcics that came back, and you did nothing?”

The fairy fluttered closer. “No, just this one. I sensed her all the way from home. Her arrival called to me.”

Judas’s initial suspicion of her arrival flared to life again. “Called to you? Did you tell anyone you were coming here? Does anyone else know?”

“Other than you?” she shrugged.

“How do you propose to save her?”

“A way that only fairies can,” Fiosana reminded him. “Let me gaze upon her, please.”

Judas sighed and stepped to the side, allowing her to float past him. He followed in her wake, less than three paces. The fairy landed on the floor, the light fading enough for Judas to glimpse her wings, crystalline with faint, gilded veins running throughout. Head to foot, she managed to reach nine inches tall. Tentatively, Fiosana reached out, a hand touching the girl’s forehead.

“What’s her name?” she inquired, an almost-whisper.

“Julie.”

She smiled. “A peculiar name.”

“She could say the same of us.”

“She would if she remembered.” The fairy directed her gaze up to Judas before surveying the room. “All this knowledge wasted until someone comes searching. A shame.”

Judas’s eyes narrowed, but he took in the room. “What?” he puzzled.

“You’re a clever man, even if you are a warlock,” she smiled. “She’ll be like the rest, without awareness of the past. You’ll be lucky if she can even talk. Use the Essence Transference to her mind.”

Judas’s face fell. He sputtered. “There are things in here she shouldn’t be acquainted with, not yet.”

“I agree; you must be selective in what you give to her.”

“It could damage her.”

“And yet she would die without my intervention,” she reminded him, her tone tart.

“It’s a gamble.”

“A gamble you started when you brought her here,” Fiosana reminded him.

“That—” he started, but fell silent.

“—is entirely accurate,” she finished. Her eyes came to rest on his, and she spoke measured words. “She will fulfill the prophecy. Use the Essence Transference but keep out certain aspects, volumes of knowledge. Remove anything about magic, the Wizard’s War. Let her learn from you, protect her, and present all things in an unbiased manner. You’re good at that. There will be a time when we come to her. She’ll be bonded to us.”

“Bonded?” His brows rose, a flicker of uncertainty on his face.

“Yes, through me. My wing.”

Judas understood what she meant. “No, you can’t! You’ll die.”

She held up a hand, stopping him. “Some chose to forget, others turned their backs, but a few of us still believe. It’s my honor to do this for her and is my dying wish. If she’s not the one, another will rise to take my place. Use my wing in the core of her wand, the bond will serve for all time. Keep my other wing safe, my people will return for it so I can be one of them again.”

Judas lips parted to speak but the fairy flared, fulgid, her head tilting to the sky, eyes closed. Serenity settled over her face, the last image Judas glimpsed before the light extinguished. Fiosana’s two wings fell to the floor, spinning as if caught in an unseen current, but the fairy had vanished, perished.

Judas sighed and closed his eyes. Kneeling, he plucked the delicate wings from the floor. His gaze focused on the small, crystalline objects while his mind replayed the last few moments. The elder fairy bonded to the girl, and now she’d have to accept her gift. But the fairy did impart wisdom to him before she faded from existence. He set to the task she left for him, attempting the Transference to a living person. To his knowledge, no one had tried before. Judas held reservations regarding the daunting task and the moral dilemma. He had an inkling of what Meristal would say when she found out: His actions were rash and reckless, a trait he left behind in his youth.

Desperate times and all that … He needed answers. The bitterness between Judas and Daylynn notwithstanding, she witnessed their attack firsthand, and he hoped it’d be enough for her to cast aside their differences. Hopefully, she’d listen to reason and sway the council to help.

What in the Shades of the Underworld is keeping her? He should have heard something by now.

He cast the thoughts aside and pulled his wand out. Commanding his essence, he started the Transference.