1

I awoke after my latest battle in a small and dim lit cell. The air was a miasma of humidity and the purification of stagnant water. Sweat rolled down the sides of my face as I sat up, wincing as my movements pulled at clotted blood on my stomach. Fortune favored me: The long, maybe fifteen centimeter, wound was shallow, maybe three millimeters deep. Still, as found out, the blasted thing hurt like hell when I moved too fast. The last demon had been the worst yet, ugly as sin and great with a spear.

The many battles caused something within me to open. I found memories flooding back to me, everything which had happened to me since my arrival in the Realm. Shame filled me as I remembered how I had treated the half-dragon Warmaster. Angriz had been a friend who had helped me at almost every turn, and I had turned my back on him after a stupid argument. I hoped he had re-united with Keeper Dearbhaile.

I took stock of my shadowy prison. The light came in from the hallway on the other side of the bars just beyond the soles of my boots. Looking behind me, I discovered my head had rested maybe an inch from the back wall. The other wall was within my reach as I lay on the bed against the third wall.

I placed my tongue against the roof of my mouth, created suction and made a thock sound. The resulting racket echoed through the place, then faded away. The only other noise was the slow drip of water. I rose from the bed and stepped to the wall of bars which rose to the ceiling. I examined the wall nearest the bars and discovered solid stone and mortar, like the walls of medieval castles in my world, covered in patches of a pale pink moss-like growth. 'Not going to get through here.'

I banged the side of my fist against one of the bars in frustration and cussed at the resulting pain. My reaction was instinctive: I stuck the sore part of my hand in my mouth to comfort it. I tore my hand back out of my mouth and tried to spit out the horrible, yet familiar taste of rust. Why familiar, you ask? You know how as a kid, you played with random things, bang your finger, then sucked the injured digit? That's why.

My heart leaped in my chest as excitement rolled through my body. I flipped the bed up against the back wall of my cell and examined the bars. My heart raced. As I had expected, they were iron and the humidity in the air caused them to rust. The corrosion was bad at the base of the bars where they went into the floor. I straightened and, without thinking, kicked one of the bars with the toe of my boot. My leather boot. Agony exploded up my leg and explored my hip. Have you ever stubbed your toe and, in a fit of pique, kicked the offending object, causing yourself even more harm? I did, and was damned lucky I didn't hurt myself further. Instead, the heel of my foot collided with the decayed metal bar, causing a hollow crunching sound from the barricade breaking.

Though my wounded foot demanded my attention with its insistent throbbing, I ignored the pain in favor of surveying my handy- or rather- footwork. Two of the rusty bars had broken just above the floor. I lay down on my stomach, on the floor, with my arms outstretched, knees bent, feet flat against the back wall and my butt stuck up in the air. I gripped the bars, locked my elbows, and straightened my legs. With loud creaking groans, the bars bent out from the cell.

When I first arrived in the Realm, I wouldn't have been able to do this. Thanks to almost two months as a gladiator, I had the ability to push the bars out far enough to escape my cell. I received long, furrowed scrapes along my back from wriggling through the two foot gap left by the broken bars. I rose, wincing, to my feet. A trickle of blood ran down my belly. I glanced down and learned my exertions had reopened my wound. I examined my surroundings, but didn't spot anything I would be able to use as a bandage. I remembered reading Army Rangers would utilize moss as a bandage of last resort, so I scrapped the pink lichen off the wall with my fingers and packed it into my wound.

The next item on my agenda? Getting a weapon. Since my captors hadn't seen fit to leave any lying around, I would have to improvise. Staring at the bent bars of my cell, an inspiration flickered to life: 'Break one free and use it.' Bracing myself against the corridor wall, I pushed one of the bars as close to true as possible, and then grabbed the other in a deadlift position. Using the strength of my legs, I pulled the iron up to level with my hips. The strain caused my joints to pop. Pushing the bar with all my strength made it creak as the rod went parallel to the stony floor and almost flush with the wall. As I pulled the bar back the other way, my foot slid on a patch of slime, landing me on my ass. I growled, picked myself up, and returned to my task. Twenty minutes later, I had built up a decent amount of speed swinging the bar back and forth. When the rod broke, I slammed face first into the wall. Pain shot through my nose. Dropping the bar, I sank to my knees, clutching my bloody face.

After several minutes of pinching my tender nose, the flow of blood slowed to a trickle, then stopped. My head however, continued to throb in time with my pulse. I shook it clear, and almost fell over. I think I had a concussion, but didn't know for certain. I rose to my feet once more, picking up my iron bar as I went. I gave the one hundred fifty-four cm length a few practice swings, getting the heft. I didn't like the bar's balance for a blunt sword-like instrument, so I began to twirl the metal rod like a quarter staff. 'This is better.' A smile grew on my face. 'I'm glad to have a weapon again.'

2

I traveled the hallway, looking for a way out. Torches, their oily smoke rising to mate with greasy soot staining the walls above them, created islands of intermittent light, oases in the lightless ocean of gloom. The islands of light lasted maybe fifty feet before the darkness swallowed me once more. I counted maybe two hundred steps in between the torches. I tried to move with as much stealth as possible because I had no idea if any guards lurked in the shadows. To my ears, straining as they were to catch any unusual sounds, my footsteps sounded like the rumble of thunder.

My eyes strove to pierce the darkness while I glided between the pools of torchlight. My heart pounded as adrenaline raced through my body, keeping me alert and ready to fight, or flee. My muscles sang with coiled energy ready to explode into action. Something scuttled in the darkness, claws on stone. As I approached the next bit of dark, leaving another circle of light, something black scurried out of the shadows and raced towards me! I exploded into action, giving a ripping battle cry and slamming my iron staff down with all my strength!

The poor rat shrieked, spun in place and raced back the way it came. The iron bar impacted the floor, severing the tip of the rat's tail, and sending a shower of sparks and stone chips into the air. Shockwaves radiated up my arms as the sound from the hit of metal against stone raced them to the dance floor of my aching head. The bar fell from my impact numbed fingers.

"Fuck me," I whispered. "I am freaking wired. Angriz would be disappointed."

I sat on the stone floor in an attempt to regain my composure, and to see if anyone came to investigate the noise. My butt finished the message from my eyes to my brain: the floor, a labyrinth of small to medium rocks and mortar, caused discomfort. I pushed the discomposure away as my breathing returned to normal.

I closed my eyes and folded my legs tailor-fashion. The backs of my hands rested against my knees as I began to meditate as Angriz had taught me when I was blind. I focused first on my breathing: long and slow breaths pulled through my nostrils down to my toes followed by rapid exhalation through my mouth. Then, I began to count my much slower heartbeats. After 200 of them, I rose to my feet and once more took up my improvised weapon.

As I stole through the hallway, I puzzled over the lack of other cells. 'What kind of prison has only one cell?' Six steps later, I stopped and slapped myself on the forehead. 'Duh! Solitary confinement!' I didn't know whether to be pleased to be thought so big of a threat, or to be worried I was considered too valuable to be housed with other prisoners. 'Doesn't matter.'

I continued to prowl the dank stone corridor, sticking to the left wall. I had my iron bar in my right hand gripped tight, ready to fight at a moment's notice. I allowed my left hand to graze the wall as I went. My fingers encountered roughness as if the walls were stucco with the occasional break for moisture and a couple of times for patches of slime. I didn't feel any of the pink moss. I paused in my trek to arm sweat from my forehead. 'I'm at an intersection of corridors.' The one I stood in went on into the darkness. 'I guess they forgot to pay their electric bill.' An inane thought to be certain. A breeze came from the new corridor, traveling from my right to my left. A moment later, I heard creaks and clangs which reminded me of an antique elevator. I decided to investigate. 'I wonder if this is a way out?'

I found a torch-lit alcove and a rusty iron grate across from it which enclosed a dark shaft that ran up into the ceiling and down below the floor. As I examined the grate, which seemed like a rusted collapsible fence, the clang and crash of ill-maintained gears came closer. Before I could search for, much less find a place to hide, the gate opened with a sharp Bang, and a nasty looking monstrosity stepped off.

The creature resembled a one hundred fifty-two centimeter tall, humanoid wingless bat with all the skin ripped off. The thing's angry red muscles rippled, causing a clear, glistening and viscous fluid to roil down its body. Nictitating membranes flicked across its oil drop eyes when it spotted me standing with the torch light behind me. A high-pitched battle cry, showing jagged teeth and yellow saliva ripped through the air, as the creature raised its short sword and shield, and then launched its attack. The first few wild swings were so easy to dodge, I didn't even bother to block them. The beast screamed in frustration, I think. The monstrosity may have been congratulating me. I twirled my iron bar in a defensive pattern. The bat-like creature tried to thrust its blade at my stomach. The blade was intercepted and redirected along a different pathway with a squeal of metal and a shower of hot sparks, some of which landed on my bare flesh. I hissed in pain, halted the spin of my staff and brought the far end down on the skull of my opponent. All at once came the sound of iron breaking bone, a fine spray of bluish ichor from the impact zone and a death scream from my opponent. 'Damn. I wanted to try to get some answers from this thing.' Heaving a sigh, I stepped away from the crumpled bat-creature. No point in mourning lost opportunities now.

3

I examined the elevator which had brought the creature up to its death. Tiny, maybe six square meters by two meters tall. A bronze lever sat to the right of the gate. I bent for a closer examination and recoiled from the stench roiling up from the shaft. Whatever was on the floors below stunk like a charnel house. I decided right then not to investigate. 'None of my concern. More important to escape.' I pushed the lever forward after shutting the gate and the elevator rose a bit. I tugged back and the car sank a little before I shoved the lever back to the middle. 'Alright. Time to get out of here and back to my friends.' I swear, those were my thoughts, so why was I pulling the lever back and riding the elevator down?

As the elevator sank further down the shaft, the stink became worse. Soon, the smells sorted themselves out in my mind. I recognized the scent of blood, excrement, sweat and fear. Others weren't as easy to identify, but soon became so.

I heard moans, sobbing and screams. The screams were horrible in the way they rose and fell in a rhythm. 'Someone's being tortured.' The elevator halted at the bottom of the shaft. I raked the gate back and incredible heat slapped me in the face, like stepping from an air-conditioned room into the high heat of a summer's day. Sweat popped out on my flesh and began to roll down my body. A trickle of sweat rolled down into the cut on my lower torso and burned for a second before fading to a mild itch. I idly scratched myself, gripped the bat-creature's sword in a firmer grip and stepped off the elevator. The weapon's weight comforted me. I was glad I had grabbed the blade before stepping on the elevator. I glanced around the big room I found myself in. There were many tables scattered around the room covered in blood and other fluids. In the far right corner of the room was a 182.88 centimeter high cylindrical cage mounted on the top and bottom by pivots being whirled at high speed by two of the bat-like creatures like I had killed a level above.

I spotted an elf stretched on a rack. The wooden device appeared to be two hundred thirteen point thirty-six cm in length and raised one meter from the floor on four wooden legs. She lay on her back on it and her legs and ankles were attached by ropes to a crank at each end of the frame. In the middle was a central roller with a ratchet at each end and manipulated by a control bar. Another elf knelt in a hoop-like contraption with his hands bound behind his back. One half of the iron hoop went under his knees and the other went over his back. They were screwed together by a mechanism off to the left of the victim. He had his chest pressed down to his knees, his stomach down to his thighs, his thighs to his legs, compressed into a ball. Blood trickled from his nose and mouth.

A dead dwarf hung from the far left wall by his ankles, his intestines pulled out a slit in his belly and twined around a stake. An orc, its head crushed in a vise, lay nearby on the floor. Blood had gushed from its wide nose before its skull had caved in. Against the wall opposite me, an emerald scaled half-dragon hung from her thumbs. Her bare heel was balanced on the tip of a pyramidal piece of iron next to an enormous furnace. All of these people were nude. Anger caused my chest to heave. I pulled my wrath back far enough so I didn't race in screaming for blood.

I turned away from the horrible sights in time to see a large wooden door swinging shut after two bat-creatures dragged someone through. A quick glance around showed me the empty cage. The only ones left in the room were me and the creature stretching the elf woman. I stalked over to them. The elf woman gazed at me without comprehension; the bat-creature too busy to notice me.

"Hey," I said. "You know, you're an ugly fucker."

The bat-like man whirled around to me. He opened his mouth, showing jagged teeth and ropy yellow saliva, as he started to make some noise. Before he could make too much, I rammed my sword into his mouth, hard. It exploded out the back of the bat-creature's mouth, sending bluish ichor over the helpless elf woman in a fine spray. He gagged on my blade, and then died as I yanked the sword out the side of his head. I turned back to the elf woman.

"Please kill me," she said, her tone piteous.

"Hold on," I said. I tried to soothe her. "I'll free you in a moment."

"It- it's too late for that," she said, gasping. "Please grant me a swift death. I beg you."

It wounded my heart to see this once proud woman reduced to begging me to kill her. I took a deep breath and nodded my head. "Before I do, who did this to you?"

"Drago the Clanless," She whispered.

"Thank you, Rishka," I said as I slid my sword blade between her ribs and into her heart.

She smiled at my words as she slipped into death. All I did for her was give her the Renline word for 'Bright One.' According to Keeper Dearbhaile, it is an honorific given to loved ones. I was glad I could give this unknown elf woman a last happiness before she died.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

4

I hurried over to the female half-dragon to free her, but the two who had been operating the cylindrical cage walked back in. They drew their weapons in a hurry and attacked me. Both thrust their blades at my chest at the same time. Ducking in time caused me to only lose a few hairs. I hit the floor and reverse somersaulted away. They followed and jabbed their swords at me again, making me roll once more. Their weapons crashed into the floor. A line of fire tailed down my back. One of the two had managed to draw blood. I sprang to my feet; on the retreat from their masterful attacks. Whatever Belial had done earlier still interfered with my Moment of Prescience ability. My aptitude to master fighting styles with a few minutes' exposure wasn't going to be of much help this time either. I had only seen one-on-one fights before and these two bat-like creatures were used to fighting as one, so I wasn't going to be able to defeat them this way.

I chanced a glance behind me and discovered they were herding me toward one of the bloody tables. My plan, and grin, were well in place. When the table grazed my back, I feinted a lunge at the bat-creatures, causing them to stop to meet my attack. Instead, I went backwards over the table like Angriz did some time ago.

Rolling back across the table, my left hand was planted on the tabletop and, used my momentum to raise my body up into a reverse handspring. I landed on my feet on the other side, grinning at my opponents. They gave eerie, squeaking cries of rage and once more leaped to attack, still moving in unison. They moved to their left to edge around the table, and I matched their movements. We circled the table first one way, then the other. They came to the conclusion after two minutes of dancing I had come to much earlier: as long as they moved as one, they couldn't reach me with the wide table in the way. The table was set into the floor so thrashing victims couldn't overturn it while they were being tortured, so the bat-creatures couldn't get it out of their way nor trap me between tables by shoving them together. 'Bring them near me.' Glancing at the hanging half-dragon almost cost me my head. Another fortunate duck spared me, but enabled the bat-things to come around the table at me.

I leaped away from a rather vicious swing at my middle. I retreated, weaving side to side. This kept their focus on me and from noticing they were approaching wall with the chained emerald half-dragon. A lunge at them every so often kept them on their toes. My heels struck the iron pyramid she had her heel on. 'I'm ready.' Nothing happened. The bat-creatures stepped forward with confidence, knowing I had nowhere to go. Then, 'DUCK!' rocketed into my mind.

I dropped to my knees as an immense gout of flame rolled out and over my head. The two bat-things were engulfed and in an instant flared, then were gone. A gasp of pain shot me upright, turning to face the half-dragon. I wrapped my left arm around her legs at her knees, lifted her in the air, cut the ropes around her thumbs, and then lowered her to the floor, yet lean against me as I removed the rest of the rope from her thumbs. They were raw and bleeding, the scales rubbed away. The abraded flesh knitted together and the scales grew back before my eyes. They were of a paler green, but otherwise, you couldn't tell she had been hurt at all. I must have made some sound because she looked me in my eyes.

"What is it?" Her voice was light, breezy.

"Your hands," was all I could say.

"What, you've never encountered one of troll blood before?" She asked with a grin in her voice.

"No. I must admit though, your humor being intact is amazing."

"I was able to keep it by imagining all the ways I am going to repay Belial for what he has done." Her voice was cold.

"Right. Next question: Why didn't you do the fire breathing thing before?"

"I can breathe fire only once a week. To do so sooner would have been pointless because I couldn't be certain I would be able to escape after."

"You sound like Angriz. Do you know him?"

"No. He sounds like a warrior though. Who is he?"

"He's a friend of mine. He trained under the legendary Warmaster Mercado."

"He would be a formidable man indeed."

"He is. Now, how about we find you some clothes and get out of here?"

"Good plan. We should not use the elevator; it goes up to the throne room of Belial. I am in no shape to fight him."

I didn't mention about wanting to kill him myself, so I agreed with her.

"What is your name?"

"Carter Blake. And yours?"

"Weijia Fujii."

I leaned her against the wall and went to check on the elf in the hoop device. A few moments with my fingers flat against his jugular told me there was nothing I could do for him. 'Could I have saved him if I hadn't played with those creatures?' I went back to Weijia, took her right arm and draped it across my shoulders. I wrapped my left arm around her waist and helped her hobble out of the room. We crept through the wooden door and into a dim, shadowy hallway.

"Lean against the wall, I'll scout ahead."

There were no more of the humanoid bats, but there was a corridor lined with cells. Most had wooden doors, but a few had rusty iron bars. Most were occupied by various peoples in varying stages of health. A couple individuals looked back at me with empty eyes and others did not. Some showed no signs of life. My discoveries made me even angrier at Belial than before. I vowed once more to stop him no matter the cost to myself. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I allowed these depredations to continue.

I reached a t-intersection after about three hundred steps, peered both ways, and seeing no one, went back, leaving her behind. Passing each wooden door, pausing to give it a thunderous kick, or more, splintering some doors and shattering others. When the doors proved resistant to my kicks, I pretended they were Belial's skull. It gave my assaults a bit more energy.

After I reached her again, I took Weijia's arm over my shoulders, and helped her down the hall. We approached the first of the iron barred cells and I paused once more. "Would you be able to assist me in breaking a few of these bars? They are pretty decayed, but attacking them by myself would slow us too much."

"Why are you doing this, Carter?"

"Once freed, these people can escape and return to their loved ones."

"I get that. Why are you freeing them now?"

"So they can return home." I stated what I felt to be obvious.

Weijia sighed. "Why is that important to you? Why do you care?"

"Several reasons," I said as I kicked at a rusted bar. "The ruthless side of me says we do it to better our own chances of escape. The frustrated warrior in me says to do it to slap Belial, so to speak. The lover of family in me says it is important to reunite families. The justice seeker within me says we do it so these people no longer suffer." I looked back at my emerald-scaled companion. "Pick one, or more, whichever works best for you."

She hobbled over and helped me pull the bar I just broke up enough so the Snebbli within the cell was able to crawl out. I pointed back at the torture room and informed the little guy about the dropped weapons of the bat-creatures. I watched him scurry to the room and go through the door. I turned back and into a kiss from Weijia. Seconds passed, and then she stepped back. I blinked, struck stupid for a few minutes as she spoke.

"Thank you, Carter. They all work for me."

We continued up the hallway, freeing more prisoners of Belial's dark lusts. A couple, like the Snebbli we freed from his iron prison, carried the shortswords from the dead bat-creatures. The others had picked up broken bits of the smashed wooden doors and broken iron bars. Some of the cells' occupants were either dead, or too far gone to realize freedom was at hand. Counting myself and Weijia, there was about fifty stalking the hallway with me. I first led my group to the right when we reached the t-intersection, but we soon encountered a dead-end in the form of a stout wooden door banded with iron. The door had a small barred window set about eye level for the bat-things. Before I could stop him, the Snebbli scampered up to the door and pulled himself up so he could look into the window. He bounced back do and looked up at me, eyes shining.

"A dwarf!" He said in a deep voice, reminiscent of James Earl Jones. I was a little taken aback by that powerful voice coming from that tiny body, so it took a couple of seconds for his message to sink into my brain.

"Carter," Weijia said. "What is our next move?"

"Oh!" I said, starting. "We free him, of course."

"How do we do that, Lord?" an elf said from behind me.

"Like this." I aimed a thrust kick at the door.

A Bang was produced, and my foot stung, but nothing else happened. From the other side, a gruff voice rang out.

"Stop that blasted noise at once, you damned freaks!" The voice commanded.

"Sorry if I startled you, Sir Dwarf," I said. "I was attempting to kick your door in."

"It will never work, young man," the dwarf said. "This is door is made from white oak and is bound by bands of iron. Only way you could get through that door is either fire, which I would advise against, unless you want to kill me, or a stout axe. Nothing else will work."

"Are the hinges to that door where you can get to them?" I asked.

"Yes, but I have tried to pry the pin out with my fingers, but all I got were scars for my troubles. Who sent you?"

The abrupt change in subject was a little jarring, but I rolled with it.

"No one sent me. I escaped from a cell one level up. It was the only cell I saw up there."

"That cell is used for important captives. Who are you?"

"My name is Carter Blake, sir. What is your name?"

"Carter Blake, huh? Now we know why you were isolated; for this very reason, so you could not free anyone if you escaped."

"It didn't work."

"No, I didn't think it would. My name is Durrgedenn Silverhame of Clan Silverhame."

I poked a sword through the window of the door hilt first. I felt it being taken with eagerness.

"Well, Master Silverhame. Will this spare your fingers and allow you to pull the hinge pins?"

The oak door started to fall towards me. I caught the heavy thing and shoved it at the nearby wall. A disheveled, brown haired and blue-eyed man stood in the now open doorway. He was not nude as were the other prisoners, but dressed as I was: a pair of boots and leather trousers. Also, like me, he had a wide, yet shallow cut across his middle. His was scabbed over, though. He was about breastbone high to me and was twice as wide with the burliness of a smith. He gave us all a huge smile.

"Thank you, friends. I am glad to be out of that hole."

"You're welcome. Would you happen to know the way out of here?"

"I should. This is Silverholme, my ancestral home. That bastard Belial and his demon army captured it last year."

My eyebrows rose at that. I remembered playing that campaign with my friends around the table. Only thing was, in the game of BattleHammer, the clanhold had been taken over by goblins & orcs. Why didn't I recognize the place then, you ask? Let me remind you: BattleHammer is a tabletop game. This means players just had access to the floor plans and locations of traps. As far as I knew, there were no three dimensional versions of Silverholme back home.

"Lead on, then Lord Silverhame. We shall follow your lead."

5

After a few hours of creeping through the fortress, we found ourselves at the entrance to a secret pathway. According to Lord Silverhame, it was a secret way out he discovered as a child and used to escape when his studies became too tedious. When he said that, I was again reminded of my favorite character, Zeddicus Zorrandor. He used to do the same thing when he was small in the world of the Sword of Truth.

About fifty yards from the hidden door was the beginning of a forest. The others hurried into the tree line, but I paused to take a deep, cleansing breath of the fresh, cool air.

"Why have we stopped, Carter?" Weijia asked.

"I'm just enjoying the fresh air, Miss Fujii."

"I believe it would be more enjoyable among the trees with less risk of being recaptured."

I chuckled and moved forward into the trees. After we were about half a kilometer in, I called for a brief halt. Almost everyone sat where they stood, exhausted. I eased Weijia to the ground and waved everyone's attention to me. When they were all looking at me, I began to speak.

"Okay everyone, we have some decisions to make. First, though, does anyone know how to make snares, or bows, or other weapons?"

Three men raised their hands.

"Okay, which do you know how to do?"

An older looking, gray haired man spoke up first. "I know how to make snares, Master Blake," he said in a quavery voice.

"Excellent. What about you other men?"

"I was a bowyer," said a balding man.

"I am a fletcher by trade," said the last man.

"Excellent," I said again. "Are you able to do anything without proper tools and supplies?"

The older man spoke once more. "I don't know about these two youngsters, but all I need is found right here in this forest."

"We'll do our best, Master Blake," the other two said.

"Good. Take however many of your fellows as you need and get started. I will be talking with Lord Silverhame if you wish to speak with me. We have until sunup to get finished."

"Excuse me, Master Blake," a young red haired elf said.

"Yes?"

"I am skilled in leafweave."

"What is that?"

"Leafweave is the making of clothes from woven leaves."

I flushed with embarrassment for forgetting that everyone else was nude.

"Right. Take anyone that wishes to learn and teach them how to- leafweave was it?"

"Yes, Master Blake."

"That, then."

The men nodded, gathered up their fellow freed prisoners, talk with them and headed out to gather what they needed to accomplish their tasks.

"You have a talent for leadership, Master Blake," Lord Silverhame said. 

"Had you met me a few weeks ago, you wouldn't have thought so," I said. "You would have been disgusted with me."

He tilted his head to the right, causing his brown hair to fall to the side. "What do you mean?"

"It's a long story. Tell me, Lord Silverhame, how far is your current clanhold?"

"If we continue to travel the way we did today, and don't get recaptured, the day after tomorrow we should meet the outer scouts. Then, the day after that, we will arrive."

I thought for several minutes. "Tomorrow, we should be clothed and better fed. I think we'll be able to travel faster. Not much faster, but faster than today."

"You may be right. Why do you want to get to my clanhold?"

"I hope to outfit myself for my journey."

"You aim to rescue Lady Orwen of Dragon's Land?"

"You know she was captured? How?"

"It was something Belial was fond of bragging about. He would taunt me as I was being tortured by saying the leader of Dragon's Land was a few floors above me, and her army wouldn't be able to stop him from crushing my clan."

"Why would—," I started, "No. What—" I stopped, too flummoxed to articulate my questions.

"Long ago, my clan formed an alliance with the Orwens," he said, coming to my rescue.

"How long ago, and what kind of alliance?"

"It was a mutual defense alliance and it was made in the time of King Kandel Orwen. It was my clan which built Victory Keep."

'Wow. I didn't expect that one.'

"That long ago. Say, would you happen to know the name of the Walker of Worlds from that time?"

"We do, but what do you mean, from that time? Is there another, now?"

I nodded. "Me."

I still was no closer to knowing what that was than before I started my journey, but I could admit to others I was this legendary Walker of Worlds.

6

That evening, I went over to where Weijia sat watching the movements of everyone around her. I squatted down and lifted her foot, intending to see what herbs I'd need to gather to help it heal faster. Thanks to Keeper Dearbhaile, I had such knowledge. However, I saw that I didn't have to worry about tending Weijia's injury.

"Miss Fujii," I said without rancor, "How long has your foot been healed thanks to your regenerative abilities?"

"Since about fifteen seconds after you freed me from the wall," she said in a low voice.

"Why did you allow me to think you were still hurt?"

Weijia winced, and then looked down at her folded hands. "Because I liked having your arm around me," she said. She glanced up at me like she expected me to yell or maybe strike her. I gave her a long look, then smiled and shook my head.

"That is a first for me," I admitted. "I've never had a woman say anything like that so plain before."

"That is strange. I would have guessed you have heard it many times."

"No."

"I am available to be with you."

I had no idea how to respond to that so I stayed quiet as I sat beside her. I watched the sun set and the stars begin to come out. Once twilight was upon us, Lord Silverhame strode over.

"Master Blake. I think it would be a good idea to set a watch until we reach Glitterhaven."

"I agree, Lord Silverhame. I have one request before we begin that task."

'Damn. I'm sitting down and I'm almost as tall as he is.'

"What would that be, Master Blake?"

"Stop calling me 'Master Blake,' please. I prefer being called Carter."

"Thank you for the honor, Mas—, I mean Carter. Would you be willing to address me as Durrgedenn?"

"Aye," I said, unaware I mimicked Keeper Dearbhaile right down to the brogue. "I'd be happy tae."

About thirty of the others were occupied with making bows, arrows, or clothing, so Durrgedenn and I were left with twenty of us to choose for setting guard duty. I suggested he and I split the night between us so we could make rounds and check on the others on watch with us. He agreed and we chose the remaining eighteen to stand four hour watches through the night. He and I would only get about six hours between us to sleep. 'Oh well. We can catch up on sleep at Glitterhaven.'

Durrgedenn insisted I take the first watch so I would be the most alert the next day. I agreed, not really understanding at that point why everyone appointed me as the leader. After we got everyone in place, and explained things to them, Durrgedenn went to sleep. Every fifteen minutes, or so, I circled the camp talking with those on guard. The full moon made my travels a lot easier. The first guard shift passed without incident, as did the start of the second. I awoke Durrgedenn and went over to where I had chosen to sit earlier. I found Weijia sitting up and wearing a leafweave dress.

"What are you doing up?" I asked, yawning.

"I was waiting for you," she said.

"Why?"

"I wanted to share your warmth."

"But it isn't cold," I said.

She just looked at me. I grew uncomfortable with her steady gaze, shrugged and stretched out. I folded my hands behind my head and she lay down beside me, resting her head on my chest. Her warmth was nice. After a few seconds of listening to the half-dragon's breathing, I closed my eyes and went to sleep, my last thoughts of Keeper Dearbhaile.