Elion ran out of the bridge control house, windows glowing turquoise behind him. The bridge mechanisms continued groaning as the drawbridge returned to its upright position. Elion jumped onto Gorman’s 4-wheeler. He fumbled with the controls but managed to start the engine.

Gunning the throttle, he raced back up the road.

The setting sun cast long shadows across the road, camouflaging rocks and bumps.

“Don’t crash, don’t crash,” he muttered to himself as he drove. He hit a pothole with one wheel, which jolted him sideways and made his hands tremble, forcing him to slow down and watch where he was going.

He wound along the curving path back into town, and headed toward the tall central spike looming over the town.

Driving through the central square, he looped around the back of the tower to the garage doors. On one side of the structure a group of people had gathered. The people moved around restlessly, and Elion sensed their anxiety.

Worried that they might be there about him, he kept his head down and sped past, getting the tower between him and them.

As he pulled up a garage door opened automatically. He rolled the 4-wheeler into the garage as the door closed behind him, then jumped off.

“Keyla?” he called, looking around the workspace. “Keyla? Where are you?”

The girl came a few steps down the stairs. “What do you want?” she demanded.

“Gorman’s in trouble,” Elion said. “At the bridge. He needs an extension cable.”

Keyla stood atop the steps for a moment, then sprang into action, running around the shop and collecting things. “Is this long enough?” she asked, looping an extension cord over her shoulder.

“Should be.” Elion said, moving to climb back on the 4-wheeler.

“Stay here,” she said, pulling the back of his shirt. Elion dropped to the ground, and Keyla clambered onto the vehicle. “We don’t need your help.”

She hit the ignition as the garage door opened, then roared out into the evening light.

Elion watched her go, silently fuming. She just kept making him feel like he was in the way. Worse than that: she was probably right.

She didn’t bring a gun. I hope she doesn’t get ambushed by a rabid pemalion.

Pursing his lips, Elion picked his way across the garage to the table where Kasm still lay.

Someone, probably Keyla, had turned the table into a bed, with blankets and a pillow. A small automatic pump sat on the ground, providing suction to the wound on Kasm’s side. If the infection returned or started spreading again, the clear tube would fill with black oily gunk again.

Elion placed a hand on Kasm’s forehead, and found the boy warm to his touch. His chest rose and fell gently, breathing soft and shallow, joined by the repetitive hissing sound of the pump.

“Thank you for coming back to help me,” Elion said softly. “I’m sorry I’m not the hero you were hoping for.”

The boy stirred softly in his sleep.

Elion left Kasm to rest, and walked over to the dirty windows at the front of the building. Though the light outside was fading, he could still make out a dozen people standing in a circle. He recognized Kile, with his new peg leg, and Tilly. They were engaged in a heated conversation with other townsfolk.

Maybe they were talking about him. Maybe they were worried about Dorian’s warlocks coming to their city. Maybe they blamed him for the pemalion attack.

Was he responsible for the bridge opening? It had happened around the same time as his arrival here. Gorman had found parts of the bridge damaged by warlock magic, the same power that had sent Elion here. And he’d warned Elion to keep it a secret.

Elion tore himself away from the window and began searching for some way to distract himself from his worries. He returned to Kasm’s side. One thing he’d been able to do to help so far was ‘Save a Friend.’ Maybe it would help if he did it again.

He placed his hands over Kasm, and remembered how nauseous he’d been after the last time he tried it. His head throbbed in the place where he’d hit his head on the ground. Maybe experimenting with this was a bad idea, with nobody around to help him if he passed out.

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Practice would make him stronger, though. If he wanted to help anyone, he needed to learn how to do this better. He called on Praxis.

“What are my abilities?”

<< Manifest Armaments >>

‎ << Summon divine armaments to your aid in battle >>

<< Manuscripts/Book 1 - Portal to Kylios/Save a Friend >>

‎ << Protection, Preservation. Stabilizes and slows, stopping infections from spreading, wounds from bleeding, and other malicious effects from spreading >>

For a moment Elion considered trying ‘Manifest Armaments,’ but decided against it. The name of the ability conjured up images of cannons and artillery pieces. If someone from that group outside caught him summoning a rocket launcher, they’d probably freak out. Gorman had warned him not to use his power where other people might see him.

But they already know about ‘Save a Friend.’ And if it can help Kasm, then it’s worth it.

“Save a Friend” Elion said.

<< Save a Friend >>

As before, strength and energy left his body, flowing around Kasm as threads of glowing light, settling into his skin like a protective cocoon. Elion gasped, his head spinning. He sat down before he could pass out, and breathed deeply until the ground stabilized beneath him.

Feeling more stable, he checked Kasm. Nothing seemed to have changed with the boy.

Elion decided to try helping out with something a little simpler; tidying up. Whenever Elion felt stressed or directionless, cleaning things up helped him calm down and think more clearly.

The entire first floor of the tower was open, with no walls dividing the space into separate rooms. A large pillar rose through the center of the space, the room forming a ring around it.

Areas of the room were clearly portioned off for designated uses. One part of the garage for the vehicles, one part held workbenches and tools, another dedicated to storage of some kind. Despite the generally chaotic feeling of the space, Elion had the impression that if he started moving things around, Gorman would know.

Or Keyla would. He wondered about her animosity toward him. Did it have anything to do with the story Gorman had told him about Prator, the last Aurelian who’d come to Aterfel? Maybe he’d been a jerk to her or something. Still, Elion wasn’t Prator, and he didn’t think it was fair for her to judge him just because he was an Aurelian.

As he moved around the room, a few things clearly out of place attracted him. He righted a bucket of rags that had tipped over, then used one of the rags to clean dark splatters off of the edge of a table. He hoped it wasn’t blood.

Gorman had seemed confident that the Aterfel Guard found and killed all the infected who had crossed the bridge. But if one was still on the loose, it could be dangerous out there. He should have insisted that Keyla let him go with her. Then again, she could probably handle herself better than he could.

Keyla and Gorman needed to figure out what to do about the bridge. If the bridge dropped again, and they were hurt or killed, Elion didn’t know what the people of the village would do. How would they fight against the infected creatures which would flood over the bridge?

They should come back soon, if they were successful, shouldn’t they? Elion resolved to wait a little longer. He crossed to peer out the window again.

Maybe I should send that mob to go help Gorman.

The townsfolk were still there, discussing something. Elion doubted they’d be much help. Gorman and Keyla knew what they were doing. But if they didn’t come back soon, he would have to do something. A dirt bike rested in the garage area, beckoning.

I could go to Domas.

Elion found a broom in a corner, and worked his way around the workbenches, sweeping up. He suddenly remembered the gemstone from the Altar—had he forgotten to collect it? His mind hadn’t been fully functioning at the time. And the butter knife he stole from Aunt Cathy. She’d probably want that back. He’d probably also dropped that at the Altar.

He needed something better than a dull lump of silver to defend himself with. A rack of rifles caught his attention, glowing softly in the corner as they charged. Remembering how easily Tael’s gun had brought down the pemalion, he determined to get his hands on one.

Using the broom to reach underneath a workbench, he found a few abandoned drill bits. Pleased by his success, he reached deeper, and recovered a shriveled human finger. Elion shuddered, morbid fascination overriding his gag reflex. He swept it into a dustpan and examined its blackened shriveled skin, molding fingernail, and the nub of bone protruding from the base.

He tried not to imagine what butchery might have led to the severing of this finger, and discarded it with the rest of the dirt in the pan.

Elion wanted to help, but didn’t know how. Keyla had made it clear that she wanted him to stay out of her way. If he went back to the bridge, he’d probably just be annoying them.

I’ve got magical powers now. Why am I sweeping up a garage?

He rolled his shoulders, and looked around for a clear area in the garage. The empty parking space of the ATV beckoned.

Elion walked over and stood in the middle of the space. He looked down at his hands. They seemed strange to him, like he’d never really looked at them before. He remembered the sensation of power flowing from him, preserving and protecting Kasm.

I wonder what I can do.

“Praxis,” he said.