“Excuse me,” Cal rose, “I need to make your call,” he nodded to Emerald Bomber.

“No deal unless I get that spell,” she said.

He spent a moment reinforcing the fiction he had placed inside the minds of all the eyes and ears the slaver kingdom had watching and listening.

Magical or mundane it didn’t matter when they all saw and heard what he wanted them to.

Lord Don Wynn entertaining Gold Division fighters in an effort to lock them to his service before the other nobles and even the king. Such audacity wouldn’t go unchallenged for much longer, but it didn’t matter. Months had become weeks. Only three left.

He just needed a few more pieces in place then he all he had to do was wait for the king’s banquet.

He heard the young man’s thoughts following him into the hallway before the young man in question actually caught up.

“Um…”

“Silver Axe,” he said.

“Uh, yeah, ‘Ray’, it’s actually ‘Ray’.”

“Ray, what can I do for you?”

“About the thing… uh… I just want to make sure… since you didn’t mention it… Rino said…”

“Your hometown? Rino was supposed to say that we would be willing to help you out with your shapeshifter issue.”

“Oh… good… I just wanted to make sure… she wasn’t that clear… and it’s not just the were-stuff. There’s, like, spirits too, er… non-corporeal monsters. That’s why I got my silver stuff. Works on them.”

“I know a group that has familiarity dealing with non-corporeal monsters. I promise, we’ll help.”

“Thanks… I… if we survive this… I mean…”

“Ray, I’m biased, but I’d say we’ve a good chance at pulling this off. I didn’t say it in there because I wanted you all to go into this with open eyes.”

“So… um… if we, like… die…” the young man winced.

“Before I go into the castle, I’ll tell my group about everything I’ve promised here. They’ll carry on for me,” he knocked on the wall, “in case I don’t make it.”

“Great… um… thanks…”

“Eat, get to know the others, start talking about how you can complement each other in a fight. I’ll suggest you train with each other.”

“Won’t they get suspicious?”

“You’ll pretend you’re thinking of signing up with Lord Wynn.”

“Oh, that’ll work… probably…” Ray nodded and hurried back.

Cal walked into his office to find a monster’s eyeball blinking.

Can you hear me? the magus spoke in his mind.

Interesting.

Interesting, he thought back, telepathy… spell?

It was how the monster communicated its threats and demands. You are familiar? she poked.

He tested her and found that it was only telepathy.

Communication through thoughts.

She could read his mind, nor could she protect her own had he wished to probe.

It felt like magic, not like his own power.

Telepathy as a spell.

I had suspicions.

But you didn’t pry.

I try to respect others. How did you kill the beholder?

That’s what the flying man called it. We couldn’t have without his aid.

Interesting, I believe you met my brother.

Truly? I don’t recall his face. He moved too quickly and didn’t linger.

He told me the story of helping a group of people somewhere in Egypt or Libya kill a giant floating eye monster, which in a game is called a beholder. You know, ‘eye of the beholder’, at least I think that’s what the creators named it after. On account of the many eyes. Ten in this case. I hadn’t heard the story when you found me outside New York. It was that first meeting that prompted his tale when I had told him about you and your ten eyes.

Eleven. The main eye was… smashed. In any event, I doubt that I could’ve used it. It had too much magical power compared to the smaller eyes.

I’d like to know how you did that, one day and if you’re willing to share. Obviously, your secrets are yours and I won’t pry.

Perhaps.

So…

My fight with the dragon? I have concerns.

Fair. But you minimize the danger by presenting token resistance before conceding, like we planned.

Not for my safety, but for my eyes. She can damage them, even destroy them. That will weaken me for the battle.

Battle? I thought the plan was for you to evacuate with your friends when the rangers come for them and the others?

Your words… I decided that I can’t walk away when I have the power to make a difference.

There are other ways and other places where you can do that.

I can’t walk away from this. Not after what I said. I meant it. My conviction stands and you can’t influence me otherwise.

The choice is yours. As for the dragon… she knows my sister. I’ll try to leverage that for some… concessions.

… you have a strange family.

To our collective regret, he sighed.

The plans are in place. I’m glad everyone appears to be with us.

It’s lucky that the majority of the strongest Gold Division fighters have enough of a moral and ethical core to be repulsed by slavery. The rest… the best of them are too scared to act, the rest are indifferent, the least want their own slaves.

We are still outnumbered.

Quality over quantity. We still have moves to deal with the latter. Issac will do his best to put Rou on the shelf or at least weaken him. The worst will be taken off the board in the days leading up to the banquet. Plus, I have another meeting that could add more weight on our side of the scales.

I trust that you will not become like them to battle them.

Death or crippling. It won’t be done by my direct hand, but my order, so, I won’t shy away from that responsibility. No excuses. No rationalizations. No justifications.

I understand pragmatic needs. We do serve a greater good, but many tyrants have used the same justification for terrible deeds. Take care that you don’t grow accustomed to it.

The eye floated out of the office.

“Heavy,” he said.

But accurate.

He pulled the phone from his pocket and made a call.

----------------------------------------

Rayna’s Rangers Base Camp, Florida, New American Republic, January, 2037

Sometimes the world looks perfect…

A catchy theme song played, a bit warbled due to the age of the television they were using to watch the DVD.

“What is this old shit?” Sweet Teats folded his scarecrow-like body down to fit into the low chair as the other rangers snickered. “Thanks, by the way for leaving me the kid’s stool, assholes…”

“Some old TV show from before our parents were born. Got it from Panda. You know how he is, loves anything old, cause it’s ‘history’,” Curious spun a pair of knives around each index finger. She had them going in the same direction, then opposite and back again with silky smoothness.

… no matter what the odds…

“Let’s watch something else, this is ancient,” Four-toes complained.

“Ya’ll wanted something new,” Curious flipped one knife to her left and spun both on one finger like helicopter rotors.

“We’ve already watched everything thing they had in this place,” Wet dreams sighed.

“Shhh… this is the best part of the song,” Sketchy Panda said.

Standing tall, on the wings of my dream.

Rise and fall, on the wings of my dream.

“Anyone else cringing so bad internally that they might squeeze a turtle head out?” Curious said.

“That’s just you and that’s cause you always eat too much,” Wet Dreams said.

“Say… this sorta sounds familiar?” Sweet Teats said.

“Yeah!” Curious said. “It does, don’t it? Where have I heard this stupid song before?”

“It’s not stupid. It’s inspirational,” Sketchy Panda sighed, “and Greygrass plays it sometimes to fire us up.”

“Yup… that’s it!” Sweet Teats snapped his fingers.

“Quiet up front,” Creepy Chipmunk said. “Stupid kids,” he muttered.

Curious tilted her head back over her chair. “Oh? Sorry? Didn’t mean to cock block you there, sir.”

“You’re lucky we’re off duty,” Creepy Chipmunk said.

Beside him, Spicy laughed, then punched him in the arm.

“What’s up, bitches!” Griddle barged into the old conference room waving a small plastic stick like a winning lottery ticket. “Forget that old shit! I’ve finally got the fights!”

The others regarded him blandly.

“Doesn’t matter. We already know what happened,” Curious shrugged and went back to twirling her knives.

“Don’t you want to watch them?” Griddle pouted.

“Seems kinda wrong from an ethical standpoint,” Sweet Teats said.

“Not if we watch it for educational purposes. It’ll be like scouting,” Sketchy Panda said.

“That’s a flash drive, Griddle. You need a USB port,” Creepy Chipmunk said.

“Yeah, I can just plug it in.”

“To the old box TV? Or the DVD player…” Creepy Chipmunk raised a brow.

“Yeah?”

Sketchy Panda pinched the bridge of his nose. “Griddle, they don’t have USB ports. They pre-date the creation of—”

“What Panda’s going to boringly explain is that they’re too old. Come back with one of the laptops if you want to watch the fights,” Wet Dreams said.

Griddle cursed, unceremoniously turning around and slamming the door shut.

“If they have recordings then command staff’s probably already scouting potential threats,” Creepy Chipmunk leaned over to whisper in Spicy’s ear.

“Do you think Spiritwalker can get us in on that?” Spicy said.

“Dunno… maybe, why?” Creepy Chipmunk stretched his arms up.

“I’d like to see for myself.”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“I guess I can ask him.” Creepy Chipmunk wavered between completely his stretch by dropping his long arm around Spicy’s shoulders or getting up.

The choice was made for him by the door slamming open again.

“Griddle! Can’t you open the door like a normal person!” Curious snapped. She had a knife poised for a deadly accurate throw.

“Um… yeah… not Griddle. Please don’t blind me, Curious,” Valentine covered his face. “Sorry, dudes, but I’ve got orders. Looking for Spicy. Griddle said he saw her here,” he scanned the room.

Spicy shot up from the couch.

Creepy Chipmunk stifled a curse.

“Mission on?” Spicy said.

“Yup… getting Maverick ready to fly right now. Wings up in ten. So, uh, you should gear up,” Valentine said.

“Did you get it as a Quest?”

“Yeah… you’ll probably get it now that you know—”

Spicy’s eyes got the faraway look of someone listening to a voice only they could hear and reading text only they could see. She blinked after a few seconds and turned to Creepy Chipmunk. “Sorry…” she grinned sheepishly.

“No worries. You got this,” Creepy Chipmunk gave her thumbs up.

“Let’s try this again tomorrow when I get back,” Spicy followed Valentine out.

Curious mimed the thumbs up, except with a pair of knives spinning on her thumbs.

“Sorry, sir, but you’re cockblocking yourself,” Wet Dreams said.

“I don’t want to hear that from you. Dream women don’t count as experience,” Creepy Chipmunk said.

“Got you there,” Sweet Teats ducked a light swipe. He was already precariously perched on the small stool. The blow missed, but made him tip over and end up sprawled on the floor to the raucous laughter of his fellow rangers.

----------------------------------------

“First time we’re using this gear,” Valentine stuttered.

“What’re you talking about? I’ve got thirty training hours logged,” Spicy said. “Ten of that with you and Maverick,” her eyes narrowed.

“Huh?” Valentine blinked. “Yeah, that’s right…” he chuckled. “I just meant first time on a real mission.”

“Dangerous skies out here. Not like back home,” Spicy nodded.

Valentine’s chuckle trailed away to nothing and he willed himself to relax.

He wasn’t a noob.

Maverick was a drake in her prime.

A lean, mean flying machine.

He focused on stripping out of his outer layer of clothing to don the high altitude gear.

Made of lightweight composites and super metal that would keep him warm and dry, the sleek suit included an integrated waste collection system. The helmet could be sealed completely in order to use the system that converted his own breath back into oxygen.

It was all purely technological. Not a hint of magic.

Impossible to achieve with their level of technology, decades and even centuries beyond their capability at their height in the post-spires world.

Which made sense because the gear came from another world. A technologically advanced one.

Courtesy of Cal Cruces’ alien friends.

The cost of transferring them through the spires had been astronomical.

Valentine had seen what just one set of the high altitude gear cost.

It would’ve taken him years to afford it on his own.

“You ready?” Spicy said.

He pressed the button in the collar to seal the suit grabbing the small, flat canister of emergency oxygen to slide into its compartment on his chest. He donned the helmet next, holding off on sliding the adaptive faceplate into place.

The machine pistol and knife went into their holsters.

Followed by a flashlight-like spell rod.

Then the pouch of enchanted gems.

Spicy tapped her boot impatiently. She had a scout rifle slung over one shoulder and an experimental spell staff in hand.

“Yeah,” he took a deep breath, “let’s go.”

Maverick trilled as soon as she caught scent of him approaching.

“Alright, girl, you ready to kick some ass,” he rubbed one side of her draconic head carefully avoiding the sharp spikes that ringed the upper half of her head like a sun burst.

He moved methodically checking the straps holding the drake’s armor pieces in place.

Thin, segmented plates fit snugly below her long neck flexed with her movements.

“Sup, Valentine, Spicy,” Jenius said.

The other drake rider leaned back on his own drake, Vermillion, like he was chilling at a picnic.

“Sup, yourself, Jenius,” Spicy nodded. “Looking forward to trying these things out for real, Wriggles?” she held the spell staff up toward the other ranger standing nearby.

“You know it, girl! Can’t wait to be a regular Gandalf!” the tall, thin man grinned as he tapped his own staff against hers.

“This isn’t fun times,” Sgt. Useless clapped.

“No, sir!” the rangers echoed.

“Good. This is going to be a long flight. You’re crossing close to a thousand miles of unfriendly skies. You’re going to need to be constantly sharp. Gear check.”

The sergeant regarded each ranger in turn.

“Vermillion’s all set, sir,” Jenius said. “Same here. Got oxygen. Pressurization system is all green.”

Wriggles and Spicy were also set.

Valentine closed his faceplate and went through the checklist.

The HUD was green.

Oxygen recycling system. Green.

Pressurization. Green.

Parachute. Green.

He peeked inside his gem pouch.

They were all in place.

He took the slow fall one out and pressed it into the slot in his chest next to the emergency oxygen canister.

“All good, Valentine?” Sgt. Useful said.

“Yes, sir!” he saluted.

“You all know your Quest. So, I don’t need to remind how important this is. I know you’re excited about the rewards, but remember the reason they’re so good is because it’s going to be dangerous. So, be prepared for anything up there and don’t let your guard down when you land to rest. Constant vigilance!” Sgt. Useful barked. “Godspeed and good luck. Break their legs!” she smiled.

Maverick lowered her sleek body to the ground so that Valentine could mount. He helped Spicy up to the saddle behind his.

He strapped her in place before doing his own.

“You ready, girl.”

“Yeah. The staff’s strapped to my wrist. Only way I’m losing it is if something takes my whole arm,” Spicy said.

He had been speaking to Maverick.

“Er… hopefully that won’t happen.”

Congratulations!

You have received a Quest.

Retrieve Nullification Crystals (x20) from Emma Larkin.

Return Nullification Crystals (x20) to current base camp.

Success Parameters: Deliver Nullification Crystals (x20).

Failure Parameters: Death. Loss of all Nullification Crystals (x20).

Rewards: 40000 Universal Points (minus 2000 Universal Points per Nullification Crystal lost or damaged). 1 Level.

Bonus Reward(s): Pending results of Quest: Destroy the Slaver Kingdom (New American Republic). Free the enslaved.

Will you accept?

“Up we go, girl,” Valentine said at the same time he pictured the image of Maverick taking off.

The feeling of leaving his stomach on the ground never got old.

“Please don’t die!” Sgt. Useful called out.

Two drakes carried their riders into the night sky on mighty beats of leathery wings.

“Comms check,” Spicy said.

“Copy,” Jenius’ voice came in clear.

Followed by Wriggles’.

“Check good,” Valentine said.

“We’ve already got incoming, 7 o’clock low on you guys. Mutant birds,” Wriggles said.

Valentine glanced in that direction.

The HUD’s automated targeting system highlighted the flock of small birds in red. It fed him their flight speed and projected path.

“Negative on the engage. They can’t catch us and we can’t risk lighting up the sky,” Spicy said.

“Copy, moving above the clouds.” Valentine passed the instruction to go higher through the drake-rider bond. He felt something like indignant resignation from his drake. The mutated birds did look like good bite-sized snacks. “There’ll be more chances for that later, girl.”

Their suits automatically detected the change in altitude and switched on the oxygen and pressurization system.

The drakes soared the dark sky with only the occasional beat of their broad wings.

Hours passed in peace and quiet as they flew out of Florida and into Georgia.

Valentine tracked their flight path through his HUD.

Maverick could’ve definitely gone faster than their average soaring speed of just over 60 kilometers per hour, but he had to slow her down to conserve her stamina and allow Vermillion to keep up without blowing his wings out. The other drake was bigger, stouter and more heavily armored. Not to mention that he and Spicy were much lighter than Jenius and Wriggles.

“My danger sense just pinged,” Spicy said.

“Nothing on mine, but you’ve got yours more upgraded,” Wriggles said.

“Maverick’s not picking up anything,” Valentine said.

“Same with Vermillion,” Jenius said.

“It’s vague, no specific direction,” Spicy said.

They were cruising at about 3000 meters, well within the drake’s capabilities without using a rider’s Skills to boost.

“Let’s go up to 6000 meters,” Valentine said.

The higher they went the less monsters they had to worry about.

They rose slowly and evenly to allow the suit’s systems to help their bodies against.

Abrupt changes would normally be deadly.

The superior technology of the Threnosh practically eliminated those dangers in controlled changes in elevation. It made rapid changes survivable.

“Everyone still green?” Spicy said.

Affirmatives.

“Good, cause my danger sense just ticked up a few notches. Eyes up. Whatever it is is coming from,” she jabbed the spell staff, “above.”

Valentine looked over his shoulder at Spicy’s face lit in shadowed green by the lights in her transparent faceplate.

He heard nothing beyond the whipping wind and Maverick’s occasional flap.

“I don’t like it. Let’s find some cover in those clouds,” he pointed at the dark, roiling thunderhead looming in the distance.

“Spicy, is flying into a storm a bigger danger than what you’re picking up above,” Jenius said.

“It’s—” Spicy hesitated. “It’s the same.”

Valentine mentally ran through the ranger catalog of known, potential dangers flying thousands of meters in the sky.

There wasn’t many.

In fact he could count them on one hand.

High altitude.

A storm.

“Thunderbird!”

Curses filled his helmet.

The others had been working their own way through their bestiary studies.

“If it’s a thunderbird we can’t fly into the storm. So, over, under or around?” Jenius said.

“Protocol says we land and hide. There’s an unclaimed town not that far away. Monsters there shouldn’t be too hard to handle. We can clear a gym or something and try to wait it out. We won’t have to fight the bosses and we’ve got about two hours until the midnight reset.” Wriggles said.

Their first scheduled rest stop wasn’t that far off anyways.

“I vote for that,” Valentine said. He wasn’t going to throw their lives away by trying to fight or out fly a thunderbird.

He urged Maverick into a dive that was quicker than safe judging by the yellow warnings flashing in his faceplate.

Spicy swallowed a curse. “Warn me first next time!” she snapped.

Vermillion dived in their wake.

They didn’t find a gym.

They found several farms surrounding a small town. The kind with one dusty street running through the middle.

Maverick roared a challenge.

He felt what she had seen or smelled.

Monsters and mutated farm animals infested the place.

“According to notes. The slavers deliberately keep this place and others like it stretching all across their north, Georgia and some of Alabama, as spawn zones for farming levels and as a buffer to slow Atlanta down in the event they attack,” Spicy said. “There,” she pointed to a farm with a large brown barn, “least amount of mutants.”

He brought Maverick around over the town to line up an attack approach.

The mutants farm animals marked with red in his HUD stared up with mindless rage and hunger.

The fight, if it could be called that, didn’t last long.

A few bombing runs to drop grenades and a few strafing passes to spit bullets cleared most of the farm.

Maverick and Vermillion were let loose to rend and tear what was left.

“We should be clear since this farm is large enough and far enough away from the others to be considered it’s own mini-zone, like a zone within a zone,” Jenius said.

They all knew that so, his words were unnecessary.

The barn had been big enough for a dozen horses, which meant it was more than enough for two drakes.

Maverick and Vermillion could spread out which was good because the former didn’t like the latter and was prone to snapping if he invaded her space which appeared to be anything that fell within her vision.

“Just in time,” Wriggles said as the first rain drops began to pelt the barn’s roof.

“If it is a thunderbird then hopefully it won’t be able to pick us out amongst all the other monsters,” Spicy said. “Might as well call this our first rest break.”

Valentine rubbed Mavericks wing muscles as she trilled. “Feels good, huh?”

She snorted hot air in his face.

“Sorry, girl, but you’re gonna have to deal with being uncomfortable for a while. I know the reset isn’t for a few hours, but I can’t take your armor off in case that thunderbird drops in on us.” Once he finished the rub down he pulled a vacuum-sealed pig haunch from one of the large saddle bags hanging over Maverick’s rear flank. “If you want water you can stick your head out the door. I’m not hauling buckets or dragging a trough over,” he said as he unwrapped the raw meat.

Satisfied that Maverick was settled he went over to Spicy, who sat on a hay bale.

“We dropped pretty quick, how you feeling?”

“Fine. This Threnosh stuff is the shit,” Spicy said.

“Yeah, I remember when we didn’t have oxygen. It was rough training for that. I got sick a lot. Totally sucked, wouldn’t recommend. This stuff,” he gestured to his high-tech suit, “like magic, which is weird, cause it’s definitely not magic.”

“Clarke was right,” Spicy said.

“Who?” Did he know anyone by that name? Was it a ranger’s real name? Or not a ranger at all. He didn’t interact much with non-rangers aside from people at the grocery store or restaurants. Come to think of it, he didn’t interact much with anyone at all. Most of his off-duty conversations were with Maverick.

“An old author, sci-fi. Said that, basically, if tech was advanced enough it’d look the same as magic. It kinda loses a bit of impact when magic’s real.”

“Yeah, we’ve got more things to parse. Is it magic? Is it technology? Is it both… cause that’s a thing.”

“I know, take this,” she held up the spell staff, “enchanted gem, wood, metal, shoots lightning. Magic. Take spell phones. Not technically enchanting, I think. Metal, plastic, microchips, shoots lightning. Magitech.”

“Where do you draw the line? It’s basically anything goes. Super chaos, which the spires like.”

“Well, maybe not so much. I can use this because I’ve got levels in the mage class. I can’t use the spell phones, since I don’t have techmage. But then again, I can use some magitech devices just like people without a mage-type class. On second thought, I can use some spell phones, just the super basic ones. So, I guess you’re right. The spires decide things at random. Why don’t you try to get some rest. I’ll take the watch. Tell the other two. Hopefully, the storm and the bird, if it’s out there, will clear out before the midnight reset and we can get back in the air. The quicker we get there the quicker we can get back.”