"Surrender to the Free Islands!"

The loyalists on shore jeered him. So Arlen raised one hand, and the ground exploded. Jagged rock ripped up at the feet of Thoko's men, stabbing them and sending others tumbling and banging into one another. Arrows flew and he ducked easily away from the wild shots. "More? Want more?"

"It's not possible!" someone shouted. The prisoner group flinched back from the violence in the center.

Arlen shifted his aim and more spikes jutted up nearby, felling another two men. They were scattering, drawing back, taking cover behind the shoddy long huts that formed their prison settlement.

One of the exiles on the fringes fell to his knees, saying, "Don't kill us!" Others raised their hands or dropped their weapons.

"All right!" Arlen shouted back.

Meadow stayed on the boat. "What now? You don't need to beat them all."

He grimaced, not wanting to keep going. "I'm going ashore. Shout if they try anything." He focused on a point between himself and the dispersed enemies, and made it rise until it was high enough to be cover when he reached land. Then he dropped into the water and swam with the current.

His troops, minus Meadow, decided to come along. They reached the shore to find soldiers peeking out from doorways and corners. He stood by his new wall and said, "Weapons down!"

Two of the warriors exchanged a look. They ran at Arlen, shouting, "For the high chief!" A third got brave enough to follow. To their credit they made an effort to dodge so that his first spikes didn't hit them. Clever archers fired to keep Arlen behind his wall. Arlen started sweating. It was easier to do this against a big group. "Guys?"

The soldiers with him drew their swords from their soggy clothes. Arlen waved one hand and shot spikes out sideways from the wall.

The incoming men had expected strikes from below. Arlen misjudged the timing but the two in front struck the fragile bars and crashed into them, staggering. Arlen's guards stabbed. He was on them a moment later. The straggler came in next and joined the brawl but was behind his friends for just long enough to be useless. Arlen slashed a man across the shoulder and bashed the last one with his pommel.

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The scent of hot blood sickened him. "You're beaten!" he called out, as the three went down. "Enough!"

Thoko's men cursed and jeered, but there was no heart in it. "How are you doing that?" somebody said.

"Spirits' blessing. They want this over with. We're done here. Come out slowly and drop the weapons, or I finish you all off." Then he turned to the exiles waiting on the fringes. "Can we get a little help this time?"

"Do you even need it?" asked one incredulous man.

He answered loudly, "I could kill them all, but I'd rather not. Make their decision easier."

Slowly, the poorly-armed exiles began advancing on the loyalists. Arlen said, "If I see an arrow fly, I'm feeding it to its owner."

The loyalists surrendered. One man with a gaudy, impractical plumed helmet of iron glared at him as he set his hatchet down. "You don't know anything, outsider. Thoko will deal with you yet."

"Good. I'll see him soon. Get your men healed, if you can. Then we'll talk."

The officer barked orders and his warriors tended to the wounded. Arlen soon found out more about the population: Thoko's garrison was backed by a larger group of troublemakers, rebels and unpopular people who served as cooks, farmers, and other support. Women from this prisoner class did most of the healer work. The convict men and a few magic-using women were allowed weaponry so that they could serve on the front line.

"The front line of what?" asked Arlen.

"See for yourself," the captain said.

Arlen let the prisoners seize control of the settlement, warning them not to do any more killing today, and went to the wall. It circled the ramshackle village. He climbed a ladder to the narrow walkway atop it.

The trees had been felled for a hundred paces but logs littered the murky ground. Fog began not far beyond that. Not the poisonous mist of Gull Crater, but simple haze that stirred as unseen things moved.

"We're usually glad for the mist," said a prisoner. "Makes the ghosts easier to see."

Another had followed him out here. "The iron weapons hit them better."

"I can give you iron," Arlen said. Some of the trees looked like they'd been slashed or bitten, even high up.

He returned to the settlement and explained what he could do. The loyalists perked up at the mention of unlimited, upgraded combat gear. "I can help you fight these ghosts, but the war with Thoko needs to end first. And none of you should be forced to stay here."

One exile said, "I want to go home!" Others chimed in, agreeing. But others said, "This is home now. We fought for it."

"I can understand both," Arlen said. "I'm going to leave to free the islands from Thoko, and I will win. If some of you will join me, I'll come back faster." To the loyalists he added, "Are you sure you haven't got any boats? I could trade a nice stone house for one. And I don't trust you with weapons just yet, but I can make sure your former captives have enough weapons to keep everyone safer than you are right now."

Somehow, the troops had forgotten they had a swift sailboat stashed away. With that, Arlen was able to send off a few civilians who wanted to leave. It'd be a gesture of goodwill. He'd be sending boats to Stormhowl to rush fighting men from here to Opaline, right after.