Now I’m sure you’re eager to find out what happened next. Of course you are. Go on, admit it. I mean, even I’m eager to find out what happened next, and it’s my story. So you must be just about off the edge of your seats. Or at least I hope you are.

Unfortunately for you, this is one of those little breaks in the narrative that has to happen from time to time to remind you of the bigger story. You know, that whole Pingo T’Ong and the Fracture thing that’s really what this tale is about. Ok, so it’s also about a series of mostly life-threatening adventures that I had along the way, and let’s not forget the interesting, ongoing dynamics between me and Gabby and Max. But it’s the over-story (or story arc, if you want to use the technical term) that holds it all together.

If you really completely desperately and absolutely just have to know, then yes, we did make it all the way to the Demesne, and we’ll pick the story back up there in a little while.

But for now, let’s visit Pingo T’Ong in the cavern behind his luxurious residence, where at about the same time as we escaped from his orcs, he was pacing back and forth, seething in anger. Or at least I very much hope that he was, but I don’t have any real proof. For all I know, he might have been about to sit down to an enormous meal, oblivious to my personal adventures. Or he might have been frolicking in his bedchambers with a dozen of his most attractive servants, or even a couple of his ugliest orcs, depending on his tastes. I can’t say with absolute certainty that he wasn’t, but if our positions had been reversed, I would have very much wanted to keep track of all the various aspects of my nefarious plans. And that meant I would have been watching what happened with Thork Yurger and the orcs very carefully, and I would not have been pleased with the results.

So let’s assume that my imaginings are as close an approximation to what really happened as it is possible to get, and witness an enraged Pingo, fat fingers pulling at his hair in frustration as he looked for something to kick.

“How can he keep surviving?!” he cried, voicing his displeasure loudly enough that the walls of the cavern echoed it back to him.

That was the only response he got, however. His servants hung back, all but one completely out of sight. That one was the unlucky youth responsible for keeping the torches lit. No doubt he would have been happier to be gone from his master’s sight as well, but his duties forced him to hover at the door, peeking in to make sure none of the torches burned out while his master was in the cavern.

Unfortunately for him, his peeking caught Pingo’s attention.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“You, boy!” Pingo bellowed at him. The youth froze. “Come here!”

He had no choice. Tentatively, the youth came fully into Pingo’s view and stepped cautiously into the cavern. “Come here I say!” Pingo snarled in impatience.

The boy hurried, only to have Pingo grab a fistful of his tunic and propel him towards the Fracture still trapped in the pentagram.

It did not look as it once had. It continued to shimmer as before, but the tendrils of fire that danced around its edges looked somehow more dangerous. And every now and then it flashed brightly all through its surface. Pingo understood that this was his doing, a result of the use he put the Fracture to and the power he was siphoning from it. Soon, he thought, it would be no more. But it would last long enough to grant him his every desire.

He savagely thrust the boy towards the Fracture as if he meant to hurl him through, but at the last moment held him back. “Tell me what you see,” he snarled.

For a moment the boy didn’t speak.

Pingo shook him as if he were nothing. “Tell me!”

“I-I see a man in a cage with a woman, an army of orcs and a handful of soldiers … or guardsmen, maybe. The orcs and soldiers are fighting … there’s blood everywhere and … and there’s a little man in a dark cloak. He’s pointing a crossbow … at the other man, who is trying to escape. The crossbow—oh! The man in the cage is shot … he’s dying.”

“Good. Excellent.” Pingo shook the boy again. “Again. Tell me what you see now.”

“Huh? Um, now I see the man … the one who died … but he’s not dead? He’s out of the cage, on a horse, and so is the woman. The orcs are after them … they’re not gaining. But the man’s horse has fallen! The orcs are catching up! He tries to fight … I think he has only a knife … now he’s down. The orcs have killed him, and the woman as well.”

“Again!”

“It’s changing … the man and the woman look like they’re flying. Floating, maybe. How? The orcs are throwing things at them, but they’re not doing very well. Now … now they’re waiting. Still waiting. Now the man and woman are drifting down … the orcs are up, weapons ready … oh! They’re tearing him apart!”

“Exactly!” Pingo declared. He wrenched the boy backwards and glared at him, standing so close their faces almost touched. “Three deaths! Three possible deaths, and they weren’t the only ones! Thork has killed him, my orcs have killed him, even a band of goblins has killed him! So you tell me, how is it that this Gordan of Riss still lives!?” He shook the youth as I might once have shaken Max, but much harder. “Why is he heading this way?!”

The boy could barely keep his wits about him. “I don’t know,” he stammered.

Pingo snarled, letting flecks of spit land on the boy’s face. “Then what use are you to me?” he demanded. He considered using some of the power he’d extracted from the Fracture to turn the boy into ashes, but was unwilling to spend that power unnecessarily. Instead, he flung the boy away from him with force enough that he landed painfully on the floor.

“Be gone with you!” Pingo exclaimed. “Get away from my sight!”

Once the boy had hobbled away, Pingo T’Ong once more contemplated the Fracture, seeking some way to accelerate his plans at the same time as doing away with Gordan of Riss once and for all.

In case you’ve forgotten, that’s me.