“An apostle? Not dedicated to Roki?” Nyt asks incredulously.

“Yes. As far as I know, they keep a few of us around to stop Efra from dying completely.” Fen says, shoulders drooping. “I was kept in a slave camp closely monitored by Rokist, and once I was named the Apostle after the last one was killed, I was taken away. So as to not ignite hope in the others of my kin left.”

“Taken away? How? Doesn’t the fogwall stop your movements?” I ask.

“Fogwall? Ah, the Great Barrier. No. There’s a way to get through it; Ichor. The blood of gods, allows one to step through the barrier.”

Ah, it makes sense now. How the White One amassed an army of that size, and where the army of the apostle in the dive I met Nyt came from.

“You’re really an apostle?”

Fen turns his head and nods.

“So...Efra isn’t dead yet…” Nyt’s voice trembles.

“She isn’t…” Fen responds, “Though she’s teetering on the edge of oblivion…”

“I want to become an apostle of your god.” Nyt says, “If only to help revive Efra.”

Fen shakes his head.

“I can ask my goddess, but I don’t think it works like that.”

“Can you, please?”

Once I feel as if the last of my aches have faded, I push myself to a standing position, and Clio hops off my lap. I still have something I have to do for this family; free the husband from Efra.

“You’re an apostle too, right? Of this world?” Fen asks.

I nod.

“Then...please help free my people.”

“How would I do that?”

“Just look for them and free them whenever you find them. I’d offer to go with you...but honestly, right now I’m not in the condition to…”

His form was emaciated; almost more so than Paul’s was.

As we talk, the sound of an engine pulling up into the muddy driveway. I motion for Nyt to step into the shed, and she does so.

“What’s that noise?” Fen asks.

“Don’t move,” I whisper.

Shadow, can you go see who that is, and if they mean us any harm?

I can do that.

The invisible cat slips out of the shed and around the corner. Fen follows the invisible creature with his large, amber eyes.

They’re carrying a bag. It smells good.

Food delivery? Ah. The mother must have called it in. I wonder if she would call the police, or anything like that.

Thank you, Shadow.

“Everything’s alright.” I say, “It’s just some food.”

At the mention of food, Fen’s stomach grumbles. I wonder if they’ll let us have any. Ah, well. Perhaps they’ll let me use their phone to call for some of our own; though I can’t use my bank account at the moment, can I? Just as I was wondering this, the car pulls out, and footsteps approach the shed. The mother darkens the door.

“We have food in there if you want to eat…” She says; casting her eyes to the ground. “I heard about your situation from your...friend here?” She looks to Nyt.

“What did she say?” Fen glances at me.

Nyt pulls the wand I had given her out of her pocket taps the fox thing on the head with it and utters the Efran incantation for the Translate spell.

“Ah, I still have to go look for your husband, but can these two eat?”

“Of course.” The woman nods, “Please find Seth, and thank you for finding Paul…"

“Of course.”

The woman looks me over.

“Did you lose your shoes? Do you need another pair?”

“Nah. I’ll just end up losing them again,” I say. “Well, I should be going. I’ll try to find Seth. These two…” I glance at Nyt and Fen, “Will keep you safe in the meantime, right?”

“Huh? Right.” Fen says as he’s still coming to a grip on being able to understand both sides of the conversation.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

Nyt simply nods in response.

“I heard from Paul that you protected him while you two were locked up,” The woman says to the fox man. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t do much.” Fen responds as he slides his hands into his billowing sleeves, “All I did was make sure that thing around his neck didn’t grow.”

“Thank you.” She says again, “If you want to come in, there’s plenty of food.”

Once more the fox’s stomach growls.

“I’ll take you up on that offer. Thank you.”

The scent of cooked food wafts in the wind. Perhaps I could only pick up such small scents because of my increased Perceptiveness. My stomach rumbles as well.

“Have you eaten, Lawrence?” The woman asks.

I shake my head.

“Nothing but whiskey and wine today,” I answer.

“Then before you head out, why don’t you come in and eat?"

I shake my head.

“No. The quicker I head out, the more likely I am to find your husband alive, you know? Can you take care of Clio and Shadow while I’m away?”

“Are you sure?” The woman asks.

I nod.

Are you leaving, master? Clio whines in my head.

“I am,” I say as I kneel down and pet her.

I want to come with you.

“No, Clio. I want you to use your healing abilities on the young boy in there, alright?”

Will that be helpful?

“It will.”

Okay. I will. Be safe, Master. Clio says in my mind.

Yes, be safe Mister. Shadow echoes.

I will.

I set off out of the small shed, through the gate of assorted junk, and into the orchard. I cast Cat Eyes to keep at bay the rising night and scan the ground. There; down the road a little; trampling over the treads left by the trucks parked at the side of the house, tucked out of view from the road up; hoof prints filled with fresh water. I follow them deeper and deeper into the grove. They skip by doors stuck in trees, doors stuck in the ground, and doors standing in the middle of nothing. It leads into the middle of the orchard, a rather unassuming door. Brown and broad and wide, with a pair of quarter-circle windows at the very top and a brass knob.

“What level is this?” I ask the Shard on my wrist.

Level 80.

It would be suicide to take it on as I am, right? My hand lingers on the doorknob; my fingers itching to pull it open and trounce dramatically in to try to overcome this. Should I go back and ask Nyt to help? No. The image of my father’s body trembling over me as the spike tore through his abdomen played out in my mind. Nyt was a friend and not an apostle, so if I asked for help it would end up the same, wouldn’t it? I rub my temples. No. I have to shelve this fear inside of me. You want to be a hero, Lawrence? A hero just can’t do what’s easy.

I tell myself this, but still, I can’t stop my legs from shaking. What was there to argue about? A man’s life was at stake.

You’re not going to try to conquer this one right now, are you?

I don’t answer, instead, I take a deep breath.

Lawrence, are you suicidal, or are you just dumb?

“I have to.”

Have to what? You barely know the lady and her kids. Just find a different place to move into.

“What kind of hero would do that?”

Hero? You’re not a hero, Lawrence. Achilles was a hero. Heracles was a hero. Cu Cuchulain was a hero. Richard the Lion Heart was a hero. You? You’re not a hero.

I scoff.

I’m being serious. You’re not a hero. Think about how you won that last duel with the minotaur; you feigned as if you were going to accept your death honorably and struck when he was open, or how you ran around the battlefield looking for advantageous positions darting in and out of shadows, blocking paths of retreat or ushering them into positions that were advantageous to you.

The screen clears and Reynard begins again.

You’re not some Herculean figure who stands a testament to unrivaled martial prowess. You’re Odysseus. You scheme. You make your enemies act in ways that you can predict, and react to that prediction, do you understand?

“Who?”

Trojan Horse. Surely you know that, right?

Right.

As I was saying. You’re not a warrior. You’re a magician. What do magicians do?

“Magic...tricks?”

Exactly. You’re a Trickster. Fight like one. Because you’re always trying to be something that you’re not, you wind up getting hurt and slowing down your progress significantly.

My hand falls away from the knob.

“You’re being uncharacteristically helpful today, Reynard.”

If you die, I die. And I don’t plan on dying until I get my revenge on Ysengrim. I know you’re going to go in regardless of what I say but go in with a plan.

“How could I even form a plan if I don’t even know what’s beyond the door?”

Think of something.

I tap my foot against the muddy ground. Ah. There are other ways to kill than magic and weapons. I head back to the house and search through the shed. Nyt comes out, just as I find it. A large red gasoline can; is completely full.

“You’re back already.” She says.

“Not yet,” I say as I shove the can into my bag. “I’m just getting some supplies.”

“Will it be difficult?”

I nod.

“I will come.” She states proudly.

“Why? Live your life here."

“You will need help.” She states as she tucks her long hoodie into her pants, and tucks the legs of her pants into the small bands she wore around her ankles.

“I do need help. I need help making sure that the Order of the White One doesn’t come poking their heads back in here, and I need someone to go through the documents they left behind.”

“Fen can handle it if they do, and there’s a sizable arsenal of weapons inside of one of the rooms, and Miss. Laura said she’d go through the documents.”

“Why do you want to come along?” I ask as I scan the small enclosure once again.

I pick up a coil of rope, put it into a bucket, and put both into my bag; rearranging everything in there so it fits nicely.

“I’ve lived my life in war. Peace is anathema to me. I want to continue fighting for Efra. Especially now that I know that saving it isn’t some fool’s errand.”

“Do what you want.” I say after some length, “Even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t be able to stop you.”

Nyt chuckles as she lifts her stolen Jansport bag to her back.

“Let’s go. I’m excited to step back into the fray.”

I sigh as I lead the way through the orchard back to the large door with Nyt following closely behind.

“Are these the type of trees that will bloom?” She asked as we passed by the dormant orange trees.

“In spring,” I answer.

She kneeled down underneath one of the trees and picked up one of the rotting fruit before sniffing it and throwing it back on the ground.

“Disgusting.”

“...well those have probably been there for years,” I answer, trying not to laugh as she wipes her hands on her too-big hoodie.

It takes about ten minutes to reach the level 80 dive from the hard-packed road, a bit longer with Nyt stopping every so often to look at things; the red ribbons wrapped around the trunks of rotting trees, or the odd remains of something long dead and rotting. She’d stop and listen to the sound of the rain, and glance at the birds resting in the cover of the leaves.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen so much life.” She said with some amazement, “Does it rain like this all the time, though?”

“No. It’s just been an unusual year.” I answer.

“I wonder if it has to do with Roki’s incursion. According to our records when Roki first invaded there were massive storms the world over. He used these storms to sow chaos around the world.”

I go to pull the door open and pause.

“ ’When Roki first invaded,’ is he not native to Efra?”

Nyt shrugs.

“He could be, but the earliest records of him that the Order of Lyk could find were about his invasion; and those were from the expedition journals to the Land of Giants, which fell first to Roki’s forces.”

“Perhaps we’ll learn more the more we venture into the Land of Giants,” I say.

“Perhaps.”

“Are you ready?” I ask as I go once more to grab hold of the doorknob.

“I am,” Nyt says. Her fur bristles as she shakes off the droplets of water that manage to sneak in through the emerald canopy of the always emerald orange bushes.

I pull open the door and step into Efra. Nyt follows after me into the blackness.