Rowan gave a whoop of joy from up ahead and awkwardly tramped his way back through the snow.

“I can see tha tops of tha towers! Tor’ac Roh is up ahead.”

The exhausted group cheered and picked up their pace.

“Real food!” Tristen exclaimed happily.

“Somethin’ warm ta drink!” Snore moaned with whimsy.

“Real beds instead of them strange Guardian heat bags,” Plague managed to get out between sneezes.

Terrin felt bad for his miserable party, but he had more on his mind than the comforts of Tor’ac Roh.

“Rowan, you still have the address to help us find Blade, correct?” he asked.

Rowan nodded as he kept pace with Terrin’s long strides.

“I ’ave tha last letter he sent right ’ere. We should be able ta find him if we know where he was stayin’.”

Terrin’s spirits lifted for a moment. They'd reached Tor’ac Roh eleven days after Elurra’s kidnapping. He wasn’t sure how long she’d been there, but he could sense she was alive. From what his mother told him about the bond between them, he'd know the moment she perished. He longed to see her again and tell her about Anchor and the danger they were facing. The quest had never been only Elurra’s; it was his destiny as well. He wasn’t just a side character in her saga. He just hoped he could see her again before the end. His face must’ve betrayed some of his thoughts because Rowan clapped him on the back.

“Cheer up, Terrin. We are almost there.”

That’s what has me worried. I don’t have much time left.

They reached the main road, Orin Du, in two hours and took one more to reach the main gates of the city. Getting inside was easy enough. The tricky part came when they had to find the inn Blade wrote from. As they walked deeper into the heart of Tor’ac Roh, Terrin noticed everyone was staring at them. A few guards showed special interest, and he could feel their eyes following them. It was only a matter of time before someone started asking questions. Terrin nudged the pirates down a small alley around the next corner.

“We stand out too much,” he whispered. “These coats are warmer than most, but they look out of place. We need disguises so the guards don’t single us out. The last thing we want is to get arrested here. We need a plan.”

“Could we just buy some new clothin’?” Snore asked.

“We’ve got some money, but coats cost a fortune, and we don’t know where to get ’em,” Plague pointed out. “How about we use some fancy Guardian magic? Do these coats have some kinda disguise button or sumthin’?”

Terrin mulled over the idea. There was a distinct possibility the jackets could do something along those lines, although he doubted there was a button involved. He closed his eyes and thought back to Bajor’s lesson on generating commands using keywords. He cleared his thoughts and focused on making one object appear as another. The command came to him instantly. He specified his search by adding the Guardian-made jacket as a variable. Sure enough, another command surfaced. He opened his eyes.

“Rowan, give me your coat for a second.”

The ginger reluctantly relinquished his jacket. Terrin pictured a coat he’d seen on someone a few minutes before and said, “Nobi rse oňo.”

The jacket let out a series of beeps in different decibels before it transformed in his hand. The strange sleek cloth now looked like a heavy pelt coat. Rowan grabbed it with shivering fingers and quickly put it back on.

“I was expectin’ it to be heavier, but it feels tha same as before,” he observed.

“It’s technically the same jacket. It’s an illusion, but it should help us get through town. Put your hood up, Rowan. Your hair attracts as much attention as anything else. Tristen, imagine a jacket you saw on your way into town and copy the command I just said. Snore, Plague, give me your jackets, and I’ll do it for you.”

Their disguises didn’t take long, and soon they were back on the road with their hoods up and their heads down.

Terrin noticed the city had changed considerably since his last visit. Nitiri’s reign had taken its toll. The silence was the biggest difference. Everyone walked around the city like mice sneaking by a cat, and they frequently saw soldiers picking on peasants. They joined the masses and gave everyone in armor a wide berth. They had to ask a few residents before anyone bothered to point them toward the inn they were searching for.

The Blue Moons Inn was a sketchy place in the dingier section of Tor’ac Roh. The old timber beams supporting the thatched, skewed roof looked like they could give at any moment, and the gruff laughter echoing from within the dilapidated doorway sounded less than inviting to outsiders. Ragged unkempt men stood near the doorway, taking swigs out of flasks and giving the young men death stares. The pirates stood outside for a few moments, trying to decide if they actually wanted to enter. Eventually the cold drove them inside.

It’s a bad sign when pirates are hesitant to enter a building, Terrin thought.

The inn smelled like tobacco and unwashed bodies. The lighting was poor, and the condition of the furniture was worse. A man with black teeth and matted hair stood behind the bar.

“This would be the type of place Blade preferred,” Tristen whispered dryly.

Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

“Ya know, it’s gotta homey feelin’ to it. Reminds me of tha Dwarf,” Rowan countered with a grin.

Terrin rolled his eyes, and Snore gave him a dubious look. The heavy smoke saturating the air made Plague start coughing.

“How can I help ya?” the man behind the bar asked with a heavy Lur Alavian accent.

Terrin was about to speak when Rowan strode forward confidently and rested his arm on the bar.

“Ahoy, bucko. My name’s Rowan, and these ’ere is me mates. I’m lookin’ for ah heartie of mine. Goes by tha name of Blade. Ya can smell ’im six fathoms away cause he reeks of fish guts n’ grog. He’s gotta funny friend that’s always with ’im. Not exactly a bright candle, if ya get what I’m sayin’. He told me he was stayin’ ’ere, and I was ’post ta meet ’im.”

Terrin tried not to crack a smile at his friend’s thick sea accent. The man visibly relaxed when he heard Rowan’s speech.

“Yea, I’ve seen ’im. Ya said yer name was Rowan? He left ah message for ya. Give me ah second, and I’ll grab it.” He ducked behind the counter and retrieved a piece of paper.

Rowan scanned the note and handed it to Terrin, who squinted at the scribbles on the parchment partially because of the lighting and partially because it was practically illegible. He folded it carefully and tucked it in his pocket.

“We’d be tickled if you’d let us see your wine cellars,” he said to the innkeeper.

The man’s eyebrows raised, and the three other dwarfs looked at Terrin in surprise. Rowan studied the innkeeper neutrally.

“It’s all stale, ya know,” the ratty man replied carefully.

“The fires of revolution run off stale ale.”

The innkeeper nodded, walked over to the front door, and locked it before motioning for the dwarfs to follow him. The other gruff guests lounging around the tavern averted their gaze and adjusted themselves, like they had been silently commanded to pretend they didn’t see a thing. Snore, Plague, and Tristen exchanged perplexed looks.

“Why do we need to go to the wine cellar? Are we about to get murdered?” Tristen asked in a low voice as they followed the man behind the counter and through the kitchen warily.

“And how in tha name of King Parcus tha fifth is tha wine stale? I thought wine got better with age,” Plague added.

“It was a code phrase. We’re going to meet Blade and the resistance. Apparently, they’re somewhere that requires a password,” Terrin explained.

The innkeeper led them through the empty kitchen and into a closet. Rowan hesitated before he went through the doorway and into the small pantry. Terrin stayed at the door.

The greasy old man glanced back at them to make sure no one else, aside from the pirates, were watching before he uttered, “Ŗevlik vehül con nobi.”

One of the partially stocked shelves vanished, and a hidden hallway appeared. Tristen gasped in surprise, and Plague sneezed.

“Yer mate’s right down this hallway,” the innkeeper muttered.

Rowan and Terrin thanked him as they entered the hidden passage. Snore, Tristen, and Plague followed with murmured thanks.

“That was incredible,” Tristen gushed.

They traveled down the hall for some time before they came to a flight of steps. They could hear voices below, and the promise of brighter light in the next room increased as they descended the staircase.

“That’s what I’m trying to say!” someone insisted. “There’s no easy way into the castle. We can’t dig our way in. The castle is built on bedrock, and even if we tried, Nitiri probably has magical defenses around the entire structure. We’re going to have to find another way.”

A chorus of voices grunted or hummed in agreement. Terrin turned the corner and saw more than a dozen men standing around a large table covered in maps. He recognized Blade and Ahren immediately. He could tell from their clothing a few of the other men were also pirates. However, the man speaking was high middle class or even upper class if anything could be gleaned from his appearance and speech.

“Creator’s foul breath, Herb! I already told ya we ’ave ta go in from underneath. We ain’t got no choice. The guards be everywhere, and they want ah taste of blood. They all has tha feel of thugs about ’em. I would love ta hang ’em from the yardarm on me ship, but we ain’t got enough of us ta run ’em through. If we try ’n siege em, they’d close tha gates and we wouldn’t get anywheres. We can’t go over, and we can’t waltz through, so unda is tha only way.”

“Never mind that. It’s not possible!”

"Then we gotta blow em' ta tha skies! Make our own ways in by force." The pirates growled with approval, and a few of the other men glanced at Herb to hear his opinion. They were all too absorbed in the argument to notice the new arrivals until Terrin cleared his throat and stepped forward.

“What about the dungeons?” he said.

Herb’s face paled, and Blade bunched his eyebrows and gave him a hard look.

“Dungeons? Ya neva mentioned ah dungeon,” Blade said suspiciously.

Herb rubbed his hands together anxiously.

“That’s because no one knows how far down the dungeon is, where it starts, where it ends, or how to navigate it if we manage to get inside. I’ve heard stories of guards getting lost and never finding their way out. It’s a twisting labyrinth of tunnels. Ever since Nitiri started her reign, many have been sent down, and none have returned. The dungeon is a death sentence, not an invasion point.”

Even Blade looked disturbed by his speech, but Terrin dismissed it immediately.

“You may not know anything about the dungeon, but I know someone who does. There’s one man who knows every turn and passage, and he would jump at the chance to overthrow Nitiri.”

Herb and the other men exchanged perplexed glances, but Blade grinned widely.

“Blow me down, ya scallywag! I knew yer good for sumthin’ besides makin’ friends with water demons!” he roared.

He crossed the room in two large strides and engulfed Terrin in a beefy hug. Rowan was right; Blade did need a bath. The large man’s body odor wafted over him in unpleasant waves of stench. Terrin took in deep breaths to refill his crushed lungs as Blade gave the other pirates strong handshakes.

“Blade, who are these young men?” Herb asked.

“These here are me lost lambs and tha princess’s privateers. She handpicked ’em herself. Although why she picked such ah sorry bunch ah shrimps I neva will know. What’s tha news, fellas? Is tha princess with ya?”

Every eye in the room turned to them. Terrin clasped his hands behind his back and tried to resist rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment.

“We have some good news and some bad news,” he said. “Which do you want to hear first?” The group exchanged uneasy looks.

“Tha princess got kidnapped!” Rowan blurted out before anyone could give an answer.

Gasps and exclamations of astonishment echoed around the hidden room. Terrin glared at the ginger boy, but he only shrugged.

“It’s always betta ta give em tha bad news first.”

Terrin growled under his breath and came up with a few choice adjectives to describe Rowan.

“Kidnapped? By Nitiri?” Herb asked.

Terrin nodded. A few groans echoed through the room as everyone’s faces fell.

“What’s tha good news?” Ahren asked hopefully.

“We’re going to get her back,” Terrin replied.

Herb looked critical, and Blade looked doubtful.

“Pray tell, how do you expect to do that?” the former inquired.

Terrin slipped his travel bag off his back and approached the table with as much confidence as he could muster.

“It’s easy. We need a bit of luck, a lot of magic, and an arsenal of Guardian-enchanted items. Thankfully, I can supply the latter.”

He dumped a pile of metal cubes on the table and picked one up. The pirates gasped and stepped back when the cube started to glow and unfolded into a weapon.

“We just need strong magic users willing to wield them, and we’ll have ourselves a fully supplied army ready to overthrow the queen regent.”