Thirty infantrymen, two humvees mounted with machine guns, and an angry-looking Oak emerge from the path leading up to the house. I grab my stuff, leaning on the porch.

“Lawrence…” He says; his bushy eyebrows glowering.

“You that bind them all, protect me from all that would do me harm.”

Aether forms around me into a protective shell.

“Thou Wyrms and Dragons and ancient beings, send thine flesh to me.”

I whispered both of these as quickly as I could. Scales form on my body. It’s an odd, itchy feeling.

“Where’s the family that lives in this house, Lawrence?”

“They’re away at the moment,” I answer truthfully.

“Did you kill them, Lawrence?”

“No, they’re alive and away.”

“Uh-huh. Convenient.” He tosses and catches one of the javelins from his quiver.

“Those your trucks there? The ones with the symbol of Roki on them?”

“No. They’re not.”

“Are you here alone? Or is William here?”

“William’s not here. Neither is Mark. I wanted to come after you myself.”

“How did you find out where I was?”

While talking I circled around so that my back was no longer against me. I could probably answer these questions better, but, honestly, I wanted a fight with Oak. Both to test myself and for a bit of revenge. There’s still a bit of a phantom itch where my left eye ought to be. I lean my staff forward in the direction of the soldiers.

“You’re asking how the US military finds a target?”

He circles with me. There. Now neither of us will hit the house. I should start the exchange now.

“I welcome thee, o weary souls, into the domain of Caer Ibormeith. Let her whisk you away on billowing wings.”

The cold winds of Caer Ibormeith sweep through the small alcove and wash past Oak; rustling his shoulder-length red hair, and over the non-chosen soldiers. One by one they collapse, but Oak holds strong; his Burl having shifted into a round shield to break the winds. He glances back in horror as the first of the bodies fall to the floor, and then back to me; gritting his teeth as if he were a wild dog.

“Bastard!” He bellows as he cocks his arm back, and throws his javelin forward.

The distance is too short for it to break the sound barrier, but it still slams into me as if it were a semi-truck. It doesn’t break either of my defensive spells, however. Was that all he had?

“A volley, o’ djinn.”

Ten fire arrows fly forth and crash against Oak’s raised shield as he rushes forward to close the distance between us. He bashes me in the face with the rim of his shield, but it doesn’t even lift my chin. Is this the result of Dragon Flesh, or has his high quantity/low-level, dive style just nerfed him this much? He pulled one of his javelins out and stabs it forward. It cracks my shield but acts like a ball peen hammer slamming against a boulder.

If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

“How…”

I grab hold of his shoulders. I wouldn’t be able to do anything or anyone at my level, but Oak, that once massive mountain that I had found myself kowtowed by, was nowhere near my level any longer. He tries to lift me off my feet to slam me into the ground by wrapping his arms around my thighs. I slam my knee forward into his chest, grab hold of his olive jacket, and toss him into the earthen wall behind me. He grunts as he tries to push himself off, but I rush forward and pin him in place with my shoulder.

“By the order of God, king of the spirits of the earth, I command you, on gnomes, seize my enemy.”

A pair of earthen hands grip Oak and hold him still to the wall.

“Wh—“

“This is for my eye,” I tell him as I slam my fist into his unprotected face.

The wall shakes at the force of the blow. I slam my fist into the pit of his stomach. He tries to pry open the fingers of the earthen hand before I put a stop to it.

“Do you really think that even if you get out, you would be able to beat me?”

“You sold your soul for power, Lawrence, bastard.” He spat through his grit teeth, “Was it worth it?”

“You’re a fucking moron, Shawn.” I spit on the ground. “You’re being manipulated.”

“Was. It. Worth. It.”

“I got my power by fighting, Shawn. I’m not working with Roki.”

“Bullshit. I saw the proof.” He spat at me; the glob lands on my cheek.

“Believe what you will, but next time you come for my neck, make sure you’re strong enough to back up your arrogance.” I turned to walk back to the house to fetch Jenna so we could make our escape into the cove.

“Was it worth all the lives you’ve taken?”

I take another step.

“Was it worth your nephew’s life?"

I stop.

“Shawn...watch your mouth.”

"A nephew, Lawrence, was it worth it? You would have been an uncle."

"Shawn, I'm warning you."

“Was it worth Monica’s?” I glance back at him, glaring daggers.

“Was it worth your parent’s lives, scumba—“

I launch forward with a haymaker with all of my might into his face. The whole alcove shook. The blow sank his head back into the earth slightly, and his body went slack within the earthen hand.

“Shit, did I overdo it?”

Just in case, I cast a couple of healing spells on him, so that he could hold on until someone could get some water on him. I suppose I should tell Seth about this. That his family home won’t be safe. God, I should have gone back last night.

I see the infantrymen stirring so I cast Winds of Caer Ibormeith. The stirring stops, and I grab Jenna. We run through the rain-soaked roads, and into the door leading into Efra.