Friedrich was dumbstruck. He was still alive after all these years. It was Pheston, the smith from Suljah’s tale. What was he doing here of all places? Suddenly, Friedrich remembered the dirty demon he spied upon the hill that watched the wagon. It was no demon, it was him.

“What are you waiting for, boy?” shouted the old man, twirling his hammer around before swinging it at another demon, smashing the blunt weapon into its jaw with a sharp crack.

Friedrich spun around and lunged forward with his sword, piercing another demon through the neck. He rammed his shield into its armour, throwing it into one of its allies and pulling his sword free. As more demons clambered down the corridor, Pheston grabbed Friedrich’s arm and dragged him away.

“I come looking for a fox, and I find you,” barked the old man as he hastily moved down the staircase. “Ain’t that the damndest thing?”

“You’re…Pheston!” said Friedrich, shocked to see the old man alive. Suljah had said that he disappeared almost half a century ago. How had he survived in this demonic plane for forty years?

Pheston suddenly stopped. He grabbed Friedrich by the throat and pushed him against a wall. “How do you know my name?” he roared. “What infernal trickery is this?”

“I…h-heard…it in…K-kai’roh,” grunted Friedrich and the old man released him. “Can I explain later once we’re safe?”

“Safe? I think you mean once we’re away from here. There is no safe in Keldracht.”

Pheston led the charge down the stairs, circling towards the bottom. The two humans barrelled past a couple of demons that had come to investigate the commotion, knocking them to the ground with the swing of a hammer and the bash of a shield. Upon reaching the front door, Pheston threw his weight into it, flinging it open and aiming for the hill.

As the two ran into the open, two arrows whizzed through the air, both piercing Friedrich through his trapezius, where his armour did not cover. He yelled in pain and Pheston turned and grabbed the young man, tossing him over his shoulder. The old smith spotted one of the familiar bipedal lizards and ran to it, hopping onto its back and wrapping one arm around its neck while holding Friedrich firmly with the other.

“Gyah!” he shouted, kicking the beast in the side and sending it sprinting down the slope as more arrows flew through the air, all missing their targets.

“I’m…fine,” groaned Friedrich as his blood dripped onto Pheston’s face.

“You will be, lad,” said the grizzled man. “You will be.”

Friedrich breathed in and held it as he tugged the two arrows wedged within him, pulling them free. He let out a pained scream as he tossed them aside, while bouncing uncomfortably as the lizard stormed down the mountain path.

“Hold tight,” said Friedrich as blood and sweat poured form him.

Pheston let out a sharp howl as the young man turned into a fox upon his shoulder. Before he could fall onto the ground, the old man lunged and grabbed Friedrich by the tail, holding him up in front of his face. Friedrich looked Pheston in the eyes and gave him a nod.

“You…” muttered the old man before cracking a smile. “Are a sly one, aren’t you?”

Pheston cackled wildly as the lizard left the castle behind. Once they were a safe distance away and on dry, barren land where they would leave no tracks, the old man jumped free of the lizard which continued sprinting away. He set Friedrich on the ground, who turned back to his regular form.

“Let’s begone from the open,” said Pheston, running into the forest of barely leaved trees.

Not needing to be told twice, Friedrich followed him on his two feet, as his sword swung by his side and his shield rested upon his arm. He knew almost nothing about this strange smith from Suljah’s tale, but he felt safer now than he had since he arrived in this forsaken plane. He was not the only human here; he was no longer alone.

Pheston led Friedrich through the forest, warning the young man to be wary of a few specific trees. He brought Friedrich to a small clearing where the smothered remains of a campfire sat and a large part of the grass was flattened into the shape of Pheston himself.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” said the old man, walking over to a tree stump and sitting down. He gestured to the tree he had felled, indicating Friedrich to sit. “It’s as clean as an elven rear after eating orcish food.”

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Friedrich did not know if that meant it was clean or dirty, but he did not care. He sat upon the tree trunk and breathed a little easier. Pheston watched him intently, as though trying to work out the young man, but he started shaking his head and laughing.

“I’ve seen many a thing in Keldracht,” he said once he calmed himself down, “but to meet another sane human who could turn into a fox? By Baldir’s Forge, that is something else.”

Pheston dropped his hammer on the grass with a thud and started massaging the sides of his jaw with his middle and index fingers. He then opened his mouth and started stretching his jaw in different directions.

“Are you alright?” asked Friedrich.

“I’m not used to talking this much, boy,” said Pheston. “Most of my conversations are with myself and the trees.”

“Friedrich,” said the young man. “My name is Friedrich.”

“Mercian, are you?” asked the smith, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t think I’ve as much as thought about Mercia in five or six years. Strange that. Now, tell me. You said you heard my name in Kai’roh?”

“Yes. I heard from a learned man of the nation that you disappeared after trying to solve the mystery of the Orb of Valskythe. This man, Suljah, said that you struck it and vanished without a trace. Well, I too struck the orb no more than half a day ago and…here I am.”

“That damned orb…” sighed Pheston, drawing his hand down his forehead and onto his chin. “It was my own foolish mistake, my own foolhardiness, that led to me being here. If you knew my tale, why did you also strike it, Friedrich? What in the world possessed you to do such a thing?”

“I believe that I was possessed,” said the young man, pulling out the minotaur mask. “This is a—”

“A soul mask,” interjected Pheston, standing up and looking alarmed. “How did you find such a rare specimen?”

Friedrich pulled out the goblin mask and showed it to Pheston too. He then placed both inside his tunic once again, turned into a fox for a couple of seconds before turning back into a human. Pheston sat back down and let out a low chuckle.

“I don’t have one, I have three,” said Friedrich.

“And you’ve awakened the full power of one of them,” said Pheston. “The soul of that fox dwells within you, doesn’t it? And here I thought you were some druid or polymorpher. No…you’ve got something much more powerful, haven’t you?”

“I don’t truly know if they are gifts or curses, but the fox has served me well. Even the minotaur, who forced me to strike the orb has kept me alive against foes that I would otherwise have perished to. Well, the minotaur and my companions…”

“Your companions?”

“Yes,” said Friedrich, his heart feeling heavy. “My friends Marina and Teleri. They are back in Eradrel…I hope. I pray to Jorren that they were not daft enough to strike the orb and follow me here.”

“Marina and Teleri? They sound like beautiful ladies. You some kind of stud, Friedrich?”

“They are my friends.”

“I’m just saying that travelling with two lovely gals is every man’s dream. What I would do for the touch of a woman after forty years.”

“Well, perhaps if we work together to escape then you’ll know what that feels like again.”

Pheston looked dumbfounded before letting out a raucous laugh. “Escape? Friedrich, there will be no escape. Do you think I’m waltzing across this accursed plane for a thrilling holiday? I’m trapped! You hear me? Trapped! And now you are too.”

Friedrich shook his head. “No, there’s a way out.”

“Do you know something that I don’t, son?”

“No, but Marina and Teleri will do whatever it takes to bring me back. I know they will. And if they find a way, I’m bringing you back with me, Pheston.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, lad,” said the smith, looking touched. “Truly, I do. Especially as you don’t even know me and are just looking to help, but…it’s a fool’s hope to think that there will be some sort of miraculous escape. I ran out of hope long ago, my soul-torn friend. Long, long ago.”

“There is always a way,” said Friedrich. “I’m telling you, Pheston, that we will see the beautiful sun once again. We will see the clear blue skies of our world.”

“I love the optimism, Friedrich, but you’re not living in the real world. This is your home now, like it or not. And you need to learn to survive in it. Trust me, that ain’t easy. You aren’t the only other human that’s happened across my path, and I always pray that each one I meet won’t be the last.”

“What do you mean?” asked Friedrich.

“Most people give into the madness of their predicament before long. Perhaps its because they can’t fathom never seeing their home again, perhaps it’s the cruel and inhumane torture they’re subjected to by demons. Many of them choose death or choose to join the ranks of the demons, giving up their souls and becoming twisted husks.”

“That won’t be me,” said Friedrich, standing up defiantly. “If I have to wait ten years for Marina and Teleri to find a way to bring me home, then that’s what I’ll do. I have something far too important waiting for me back home. I’m getting out of here.”

“And I hope you’re right, Friedrich,” said Pheston, scratching his beard. “But for now, you need to learn the way this world works or you’ll be dead by the end of the week.”

“I suppose this won’t last very long,” said Friedrich, pulling out a small loaf from his pack. “I need to learn what I can eat and drink in this world without poisoning myself.”

Pheston’s eyes lit up and his mouth hung open as he let out an audible gulp. “Is that…bread?” he asked.

Friedrich nodded as he tore half the loaf and threw it to Pheston who caught it excitedly. He took a big bite of it and a wave of satisfaction rolled over the old man’s face as he chewed it. He kept on chewing, savouring the taste that he had not enjoyed for forty years. At last, Pheston swallowed and clenched a fist in satisfaction.

“Oh, how I’ve missed bread,” he said, holding up the rest of the loaf in his hand and inhaling its slightly stale, yet beautiful aroma. “You have given me the greatest gift imaginable, Friedrich. I can’t thank you enough.”

“You’re welcome,” said the young man.

Pheston raised the loaf to his mouth, ready to take another bite, but hesitated. “My newfound friend, I’m going to teach you how to survive this hell,” said the old man, finally indulging in another bite.