“I’m finished,” Daniel Riser lamented. The governor of the eleventh district of Carnel bashed his head against the stone wall several times, gritting his teeth. “I paid half my fortune to ensure that girl’s capture in my own district. Now, Jarrod will have my head for this.”

“You are still a governor,” an easy voice called from behind an entryway. The black door creaked open, and a pale man with ice blue hair strolled into the governor’s bedroom, clutching a leather-bound tome. “No doubt you will be severely punished for not only driving a Black Son rogue, but also losing the king’s prized possession. However, it’s not so easy to put a man such as yourself to death. Not without the, shall we say, magical ramifications.”

“Clearly you’ve never met Governor Jarrod, Vash. The man terrifies me. If you can call him a man.”

Nathanial Vash’s severely squinted yellow eyes scanned the space. Twelve long mirrors hung at intermittent points in the cold, circular chamber. A bed, bath, wardrobe, and desk all huddled in one quarter of the room like old friends, leaving the rest of the room barren. A single window overlooked the ruins of Arcadia. The governor’s room was in the highest tower of Soto Silver, ancient home to the old kings of the North. Still a grand palace but a far cry from its former glory. At such a height, it was the only place devoid of the consuming mist billowing up from the falls.

Vash reached into a pocket in his unwieldy robes and took a long swig of a clear liquid in a metal container, like a flask but much larger. He wiped his mouth and pushed the bridge of his spectacles up the length of his nose. Arrays of black tattoos in the shapes of arrows ran across pallid arms like river currents. Vash’s constant demented smirk never failed to remind Riser just how much he mistrusted the appointed counselor from Tanaerum.

“Oh, Jarrod’s a man,” Vash tittered, hiss-like. “Of that I can attest. I wouldn’t worry, though. I can secure both Champlain and Goodsteel for you.”

Riser huffed. “You? Micah sinChamplain is one of the most talented warriors Carnel has seen in hundreds of years, since the days of the Drifting Queen even. Rogue, he’s become our kingdom’s worst nightmare. Not to mention he now has the Moon Eyes in his possession. What could you possibly do?”

“So negative,” Vash said. “Champlain, while admittedly brilliant, is still a boy, naive without someone giving him orders. Hindered by that girl, we should be able to locate him. The other Black Son under your charge is, after all, the finest tracker in the world. Or have you managed to turn Kalem rogue, as well?”

“Finding Champlain and killing him are two different things.”

Vash’s amused expression washed away into a grave stare. “I did not say it would be easy. In fact, sacrifices must be made if you want me to bring back what you lost. Great sacrifices.”

He made his way to the window, resting his hands on the sill. Besides a few scant lights, those of nomads or scavengers, the remains of Arcadia were dark. Once magnificent marble buildings were hardly recognizable ruins now, rising prominent against the night horizon. Vash breathed in a lungful.

“Have you ever wondered…” he said. The tone was like a question, but it seemed he was talking to himself. He licked his lips, smile again stretching into a devil’s crescent. “…what the Rinx were like? Their power, their knowledge. How I yearn to know what they were like. Out there, Arcadia rests in peace, but this used to be a great city, full of legendary Vilex and Rinx. Rushard Crimson, Valen Genesis, Maximus Dole, Sampson sinCreed. Pure-blooded Lycanthropes with power unimaginable to us. Even Rinx Lords walked those streets once upon a time!”

A bead of sweat trickled down the governor’s brow. “Carnel hasn’t seen a Rinx in a hundred years. Yet you speak of Rinx Lords. What nonsense is this?”

Vash flashed a loathsome glare. “I have the ability to bring the power of Rinx back to this country. And with it, I can crush Champlain and recapture the Moon Eyes. But to do so, I will need the Eleventh Seal.”

Riser fingered his emerald ring. Sweat came more freely. “Give up my protection? You ask me for something that cannot be given!”

“It must be done. You are right when you say Jarrod will not be merciful. With that ring, he cannot kill you, but he will make you wish for death. You know this. You were charged with the simple task of holding captive Charlotte Goodsteel until the king’s arrival. Very little time remains. Give me the ring. Not only will I hunt Champlain and Goodsteel down, but together we will offer the king a weapon even more potent than the Moon Eyes. A hundred times more potent!”

“Wh-what weapon?”

Eyes bulged and arms spread. Nathanial Vash smiled like a demon cornering new prey. He hissed, “The brothers of the Lord of Seas!”

Riser backed against the wall, feeling a broad, dark pulse. He knew Vash was deranged, but to what extent he hadn’t been sure of until now. The man had been waiting for this opportunity. The governor felt death tug on his heart like a bell toll, and he bitterly realized he had no choice but to give him the ring. If the Moon Eyes were not returned to him, his end would be certain regardless.

He sighed in anguish, slipping the signet from his finger and offering it up.

Vash snatched it without hesitation. “Send Marshall sinKalem after Champlain,” he said. “Have him send me daily updates. I am taking one of your soldiers and heading south, tonight if possible.”

“I thought you were going to catch Champlain!” Riser exploded in anger.

“I have much preparation before I am ready. Do not presume to think I can somehow deal with Champlain as if he’s a mere fly. I said it once, he is the most brilliant fighter of our age. Even our own king would be hesitant to confront him. But Kalem will no doubt find him, even if he can’t defeat him. And that’s what I need while I arrange everything. Preparation, Governor. Preparation is key. Fighting him myself would spell my end, but sending a Rinx to fight him for me is another matter. Against a Rinx…” Vash vacated the room, clutching his new prize. “Against a Rinx, Micah sinChamplain has no chance.”

* * *

“Why is she with us again?”

Micah sighed as he crouched over a skillet atop a pile of hot coals, turning eggs and potatoes over with a fork. “Complaining won’t make her go away, Cal.”

He looked over at his furry helper. Long and sleek, the catlike creature watched a mound of nearby blankets rise and fall with Charlotte’s steady breathing. He held his head high with disdain, blue fur bristling. Wings like a moth tucked against his body, and a long tail trailed down the immense bureau on which he perched. Micah stood and opened one of the many drawers of the sturdy, intricately carved chest. Their makeshift camp inside a cave Micah found had been sufficiently warm through the night. Cal located him that morning with little trouble, as always.

He scratched Cal behind his large ears, receiving a conciliatory purr. “She’s going to be traveling with us for a while,” he said, producing some salt from the drawer and returning to the food. “There’s something about her that makes me feel we’re connected. She’s all alone, you know. So try to get along with her.”

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A pleasant moan escaped Charlotte’s lips as she awoke, peeking her head out from the pile of blankets. She gasped and sat up, taking in her surroundings with a wondrous expression. The white cave walls glittered with green jewels, and hundreds of stalactites of pure green crystal hung from the ceiling. She brushed her hair back as a gust of cool wind swept in from the mouth of the cave. The lush marshes of North Carnel stretched for miles in every direction.

“Amazing!” she said, leaning over to look outside. The cave was situated in a rising crag, steep and wet. “Where are we? How did we get up here? Oh, something smells good.” She followed her nose and looked over at them. Immediately, she noticed Cal. “Holy crickets! You have a Murr! Oh, can I pet him? Hey, he doesn’t have a leash. How do you keep him from flying away?”

The fur on Cal’s neck bristled as he lowered his body. “Tell her she can’t touch me,” he growled.

“Is there a particular reason you don’t like her?” Micah asked. “I’m confused. You haven’t even given her a chance.”

“If it weren’t for her, none of this would have happened. I miss my snug bed in Soto Silver.”

“Well, we can never go back so you should get used to sleeping outside.”

“That I can handle, but I’m telling you, we should get rid of her. She’s going to cause us nothing but trouble.”

Charlotte stood up. “I hear what you’re saying, you know!”

Cal beat his wings in shock. “Micah! I thought you said she had an Avalon spirit!”

“She does,” he replied. “Or at least that’s what she told me in the castle.”

“Uh, yes that’s what I said, but…” Charlotte pointed to her right eye. A heliotrope curve glowed against her blue eye.

“Waxing Crescent,” Micah said. “My apologies, Cal. I wasn’t privy to all her abilities. I didn’t know she could speak to animals.”

Charlotte shrugged her shoulders imperiously and stretched, basking in the streaming morning light. Her hair was a mess, and the red gown she still wore was rumpled and uncomfortable-looking, but she giggled to herself, twirling in place.

“You’re in a good mood for a fugitive,” Micah said.

“I haven’t slept like that in a while,” she replied. “And something just feels right, you know? It’s the beginning of a new day, a new adventure. You and I… well, we seem to have started something grand, don’t you think? Can’t you smell it in the air?”

He sniffed, but smelled only breakfast.

She giggled again, her voice like a jingle. “How did you sleep?”

“I don’t sleep.”

She looked at him odd, as if ready to question his statement, but her puzzled face focused on something else. “What is it?” he asked.

“You’re clothes,” she said.

Micah looked down at himself, thinking maybe there was a tear. Pants, shirt, and boots. Cotton gloves and a leather jacket. Sword at one side, supply pouch on the other. A cloth mask covering his entire head except for a sweeping gap exposing his left eye and ear. Three teardrop-crystal earrings. And from head to foot, everything was black. It all seemed in order.

“What about my clothes?” he asked.

“Haven’t you realized I still don’t even know what you look like? Why are you wearing a mask? Take it off so I can see your face.”

“This is the cloth of the Black Sons,” Micah said, taking the skillet off the fire and emptying the food onto a tin plate. “The traditional garb established by the great king of ancient Avalon, Namolech of Ursa, when he formed the elite squadron. I never reveal my face.”

“Never?” she gasped. “So I’m never going to see what you look like?”

“Impossible.”

“Well, that’s just… unreasonable.” She seemed truly miffed, as if she lost something dear. “Are you even still a Black Son now that you’ve disobeyed an order and run away? And now that I think about it, why did you run away?”

Micah didn’t know how to answer those questions. He spent the entire night wondering the same things. In the end, he still felt bound to his vow.

“I wanted to live. That’s all I know right now.”

She cocked her head, looking at him strangely.

“Speaking of clothes,” he said, quickly changing the subject. “We’ll need to modify that dress until we can get you something else.”

“Modify?” she repeated, smoothing out some of the creases in the material and looking offended. “What do you mean?”

“We’ll cut away all the excess fabric so it won’t hinder your movement.”

“You’ll do no such thing! I purchased this dress in Rigel, and it didn’t come cheap. You won’t touch my dress.”

Micah and Cal glanced at each other. The Murr rolled his eyes, but said nothing. “That dress must weigh an extraordinary amount,” Micah said. “I don’t know how you can even move. Our travels are going to be perilous.”

“Sorry. My decision is final. Now, do you happen to have a shower? I haven’t bathed in three days, and it’s incredibly unpleasant.”

Micah wordlessly opened another drawer in the bureau and produced a metallic object like an armband beset with green crystals. He handed it to her, and she accepted it with an impish smile, making for the inside of the cave. Soon, she was out of sight, and he could hear running water. Pleasant singing carried down the tunnel.

“You’re a pushover,” Cal said.

Micah blinked. “I am?”

The Murr sighed, resting his chin on his paws. “She’s going to walk all over you. Mark my words.”

A half hour later, Charlotte came back glowing. Her hair fell in perfect curls past her shoulders, and the dress looked nearly brand new. She stood before them, hands at her hips and smiling cheerfully. Micah watched her sway in place, curious about why her skin looked so soft and smelled so good, even from a distance. And how did her hair return to its lustrous state when she didn’t even have a brush? Perhaps she had something hidden in that gigantic dress. He wondered a lot of things about her that he had never before considered about women. And every single new question seemed completely irrelevant.

Perhaps going rogue meant going insane.

Charlotte must have noticed him watching her so acutely. A sultry smile played across her lips, and she glided to him, taking his arms and sliding her head against his chest.

“Say Micah,” she said with tender allure, drawing the words out slowly. She caressed his arms with her fingertips. “Couldn’t you take your mask off one time? It couldn’t do any harm, and I’ll bet you’re really handsome. Just this once… for me?”

Micah put a finger to her forehead, pushing her away. “No.”

She sighed and folded her arms in frustration.

“Eat up,” he said, checking a pocket watch and then looking out the cave to the sky. “I’ve been keeping your food warm. We shouldn’t stay in one place for too long. We have maybe a day’s head start before they pick up our trail.”

He began to pack everything away into the bureau. Charlotte watched him work, methodically storing his gear into their proper drawers. She realized it must be a magic chest because no regular container could possibly store so many things. She spotted the heaping plate of potatoes and eggs he had set aside for her and took it along with a fork. The delicious smell made her forget everything else, and she dove in. To her pleasant surprise, he was an excellent cook. The potatoes were perfect, spiced with a salty herb she didn’t recognize. As she ate, she noticed Cal watching her. She smiled, hoping he might have warmed up to her, but he sniffed and turned his head.

Charlotte pouted.

* * *

Marshall sinKalem stopped at the edge of the icy river and looked up. Soto Silver appeared no larger than a coin against the sky. Mist consumed the bottom of the gorge, billowing in freezing bursts.

A captain of the platoon under his charge came alongside him, pointing to a cluster of black pines. “The tracks begin just beyond those trees, sir. Our dogs found them right away. They lead east to the strait, just as the governor predicted.”

A puff seeped from Marshall’s mask as he sniffed in contempt of the statement. But he didn’t voice his thoughts. “Show me,” he said.

The captain led him through the cluster of trees to a disturbance in the mud and ice definitely caused by footprints. Four other guards stood at attention while Marshall kneeled, examining the area.

“There’s only one set of tracks, but they appear to be heavy,” the captain said. “Champlain must have carried Goodsteel from here.” He pointed east toward a barren field. “The tracks go north and then directly east, to the fort of Rune Sigma.”

Marshall nodded and reached to the pack on his belt. He pulled out an Element Stone, touching the tip to the ground. The slender green crystal reacted with a bursting glow, and ice separated from the soil to swirl around it. His men watched with interest as the ice pressed together to form a glass plate, about two square feet in size. He whispered an incantation and put his crystal away. Standing, he held the glass in front of him, looking through it intently. For several minutes, he remained quiet, shifting only briefly a few times. Finally, he dropped the glass, shattering it.

He held out his hand to the guards. “Map.”

The captain produced one. Marshall traced his fingers along the parchment, checking the sky several times. “Champlain is heading west, not east,” he said, rolling up the chart.

“But the tracks…”

“Forget the tracks. A piece of advice, Captain: never trust the tracks of a man who can take his feet off the ground. He heads west. He will eventually turn back, but he is looking for information and supplies. What is the nearest known black market outpost west of here?”

“The Steam Ruins. It’s popular among criminals because it’s in the middle of a desert and the old pipes run deep underground.”

“Then that is our destination. We leave as soon as possible. Prepare yourselves. Our mission is to hunt down Micah sinChamplain, your former commander. He is an enemy of Carnel and must be put to death.”