“No, no, no.” Cara took Gramok’s hand and pushed it forward. “You can’t draw this bow that much, it’ll snap. To here, no further.”

Gramok grunted. “Not my fault it’s a kid’s bow.”

“Hey!” She flicked his hand. “I made this bow for me, thank you very much.”

“My point exactly.” And there it was, that stupid grin that was so damned hard to hate.

Cara pulled herself up straight and tried to look official. “Behave, young man. Do you have no respect for your elders?”

“Not really. Besides, you’re younger than me in elf years, and you know it.”

“Uh-huh. Stop whining and take the shot.”

The arrow missed the bullseye, hitting the third ring. Gramok growled and kicked the floor.

“At least I can hit the target. Again.”

“That was a hit! We didn’t all grow up with bows in our hands.” He nocked another arrow and, without fixing his feet, drew.

“Stop! Your stance—come on, you can do better than this!”

“What?” He looked down and sighed. “Consistent stance, yeah, yeah.” He shuffled back into the correct position and drew again.

He hit the second ring this time, barely an improvement.

“What’s it like, being a ranger?”

Heat rose in her chest. Mind on the job, Cara. “Focus. That was much better, but watch the follow-through.”

“That good, huh? I bet you have some interesting stories to tell.”

Her gaze fell to the floor. Not really. Maybe she would have if she’d been a real ranger, one that could be trusted not to screw it up. “Isn’t it my job to be the distraction? Aim carefully this time.”

He followed through properly, and landed the arrow in the first ring.

“Nice! You’re sure about the route?”

“The maps are good. We’ll be fine.” Gramok shot again, and hit the first ring.

Cara clapped him on the back. “Better. Focus right on the bullseye, you got this!”

He nodded and nocked another. “Do you miss it, being a ranger?”

She bit her lip. “I miss the Forest. The rustle of the leaves, dirt underfoot, that sense of life all around you.” A dull weight grew in her chest. “The tree-song, too. Do you miss home?”

His shot pulled wide, only just catching the edge of the buttress. “The road is my home!” He thumped his chest and nocked another arrow. “I stop by to see my sister when I can.”

“Do you enjoy it? Adventuring?”

He laughed. “Why would I do it if I didn’t? Fresh air, help people, collect cool stories. What’s not to like?”

Wandering the world. Seeing new things. Not being tied down to one place.

What wasn’t there to like about that?

***

“What is the meaning of this?” The grizzled dwarf advanced, slamming his staff into the ground with every step. “When I attend a war council, I do not expect to come back to my soldiers slacking off!”

The other mages backed away, leaving Zelig and Ted in the furious dwarf’s path.

Zelig snapped off a salute. “Of course not, sir. We were obtaining additional spells to aid in our duties, sir!”

“Exchanging spells? With a human?” His eyes bulged, and the knuckles around his staff turned white. “All of you, back to work. Now!”

Mage-Commander Luther, son of Leopald

Level: 19

One of the younger mages stepped forward and stood to attention, her fingers clenched at her side. “The gate, it’s, it’s done.” She withered a little before recovering. “Sir!”

“Done?” Luther’s eyes narrowed. Time stretched out. His cheek twitched. “That gate better be stronger than the day it was built!”

“Yes, sir,” Zelig said. “The Runesmiths are working on it now, sir. Ted here, he’s a Spellcrafter. Couldn’t have done it so quickly without him.”

“A Spellcrafter?” Luther snorted, but some of the stiffness in his posture faded. “What did you promise him, mining rights for a century or two?”

Ted offered up a smile. “Happy to help, Mage-Commander, no payment required.”

Learning Telekinesis and gaining an extra level of Spellcrafting certainly didn’t hurt, though. That extra level in Efficiency would really pay off.

A thin smile spread across Luther’s face, only to freeze partway. “How old are you, Edwin?”

“Twenty-one springs. Years, I mean.”

“You’ve been spending too long with the wood elves, son.” Luther’s stare intensified. “21 years old, a level 7 Spellcrafter, and very much alive.” His half-smile stretched into a sneer. “Well, if you are here to help, you’re very much a hero in my book.”

Shit. Was it really that obvious with a few levels of Thorough Identify? Ted’s smile held the line. “Thank you.”

“My office. We’ll talk in private. Everyone else, get to your other duties.”

Ted followed Luther through to a small adjacent room. Bare stone walls, a simple desk, a single chair, and a mountain of paperwork. Someone didn’t spend much time in their office.

The door banged shut. Luther pulled out the chair and gestured to it.

“I’ll stand, thank you.”

“Suit yourself.” Luther sat and stared up. “You remind me of someone.”

Ted’s stomach twisted in on itself. “Oh?”

“Another human who passed through, thirteen years ago.”

Thirteen years. No way that was a coincidence. And if Luther had met him, he’d have Identified him, as well. Same surname. No wonder he’d noticed so quickly.

Heat rose in Ted’s chest, but he pressed his lips together in silence. What was there to say? Oh, yeah, that brutal dictator? I’m his son.

“No comment?”

Ted’s fists balled up. Luther already knew, he might as well come out swinging. “Was that before or after you put up a statue to him?”

“Before, as I suspect you know.” Luther’s voice remained level. Logical. Reasoned. “He would never have healed our men or aided our repairs, not without payment.”

Ted stared at the utterly bare walls. It was a boring room, even by dwarven standards. Maybe it doubled as a torture chamber. “Nothing to do with me.”

“Why do you think the statue is there?”

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Ted snorted. “To honor your emperor. Why else?”

“To show we are good, loyal citizens of the great Divine Empire. It’s no secret what happens to those who are not.”

Ted crossed his arms. There wasn’t time for this bullshit. “What’s your point?”

“Our records are meticulous and date back to the Age of Heroes. Tarkath, a great city, destroyed by orcs because they claimed these very mines. And yet that was followed by 10,000 years of peace.”

“Ancient history.”

“And our present. We struggle to keep order in the barracks some days, and orcs are a hundred times worse. Fortified or not, this town is nothing compared to Tarkath. Why have the orcs never come back to finish us off?”

“That almost sounds like a complaint.”

“We’re vulnerable and they know it. Yet in all this time, they haven’t struck. What’s the difference? What changed?”

Ted’s muscles clenched. There it was, back to the point at hand.

“Heroes, Ted. That’s the difference. A pattern of paradoxes played out a thousand times across the archives, all pointing to one thing.”

I never asked to be a damned Hero. “I’m not here to destroy your city.”

“You missed the lesson history is teaching us. It’s a warning, and a promise. Heroes make things happen.”

Ted blinked. That was one way to look at it.

“Was he your father?” Luther asked. “No matter. It’s strange. When he passed through, I did not treat him as an emperor. No one did. The records don’t mention the emperor’s visit, or his coronation. Why? That is a question I have asked myself again and again. A decade of pondering, and the answer is still just out of reach.”

There it was, that leash dragging the poor bastards back. The System? Or something else?

“You wouldn’t understand,” Ted said, “even if I told you.”

Luther nodded. “I have long suspected a power beyond magic holds us in check. Perhaps there is a divine force behind the empire.”

Ted’s jaw clenched. What did any of this have to do with him? “And?”

“And now it comes to you. If we are to cast off the Divine Empire, there must be a catalyst. Something—someone—that sets it all in motion.”

No way. Ted growled and looked away. He’d bury himself in the Deep-Forest before doing that. “You mean a Hero.”

“I do.”

Because one world-spanning quest wasn’t enough. “I’m a little busy trying to stop the dungeon spawn. I don’t have time for leading a revolution.”

“No.” Luther shook his head. “Not lead it—spark it. The Empire cannot crush us all at once. Long ago, there was an alliance of races, their cities connected via huge portals.”

“Between cities? Like, armies?” Logistics wins wars. The ability to move entire armies between cities would shift the balance of power away from the Empire. Away from his father. “How?”

“Portal cores powered each one. Retrieve Tarkath’s portal core for us, and I will have our Runesmiths inscribe three items for you and your companions.”

Ted shook his head. Getting home had to be his priority, not fighting their war for them. “Your revolution is your business, not ours, and certainly not mine.”

Luther bowed his head. “Very well.”

Weight tugged at Ted’s chest. They were already going down to the ruins, they might as well keep their eyes open. Plus, a magic bow would make Cara happy. “If it’s on the way, I’ll see what I can do.”

Quest received: Retrieve the Tarkath Portal Stone

Quest giver: Mage-Commander Luther, son of Leopald

Quest description: The Tarkath portal stone was lost during the city’s fall. Retrieve it and return it safely to Mage-Commander Luther.

Quest reward (completion): 5,000 XP, three items inscribed with Runes by Tonvalbortdelan Runesmiths.

“You know,” Ted said, as sincerely as he could muster, “we might have to fight our way to it. Runed gear would help with that.”

Luther stared back. “The main gate takes priority. Until its runes are redone, everything else must wait. However, you are right to be concerned about the ruins. Have you fought spirits before?”

A chill ran down Ted’s spine. “No.”

“They can and will reach into your mind. Fear, hatred, rage, sorrow—these are their weapons.”

Well, shit. Ted’s insides curled up into a ball. Good thing he wasn’t a flaming emotional wreck already skimming the edge of totally losing it.

“You are dangerous, Ted Williams. All casters are, especially without the shackles of self-preservation.”

Was that a compliment? Whatever. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere near them.” I’ve had quite enough of people messing with my brain as it is.

“It’s wise to avoid them, yet not always possible. There are ways to defend yourself, however. I have spent a decade studying how to detect influence on my mind. I never found whatever power the Divine Empire holds over us, but I did learn to detect other intrusions into my mind. I believe you have the Intelligence, Willpower, and mental discipline required to learn it as well.”

Finally. Something useful. “Teach me.”

The technique itself was simple enough in theory—by watching his own thoughts with higher-level thinking, it was possible to spot inconsistencies. Putting it into practice was more difficult, and exceedingly uncomfortable.

Time and again, Luther weaved the purple threads of a Telepathy spell and cast it upon Ted, while sharing what he knew about spirits. The spell itself seemed cloudy to Ted’s Discern Magic, as if out of focus, making it pretty much impossible to duplicate.

DRM built into the spell itself? It made sense. Ted wouldn’t want to trust a stranger with mind-affecting magic, either.

Each time, Ted felt the desire to sit down. The first few times, it felt perfectly natural—he’d had a long day, he needed to conserve his strength—and he’d sat straight away, only realizing after sitting that it was strange.

With time and practice, he learned to identify the shifts in his thinking, sorting out those that were his own from those forced into his mind.

Passive learned: Mental Tripwires

Mental Tripwires: Increases the chance of detecting mental intrusions. Increases Mental Resistance to magical effects.

The word “chance” wasn’t encouraging, but it was better than nothing. Given Luther’s experiences and his own, Ted also suspected that it would only detect magic affects on his mind. If there was any bullshit like Contradictions affecting his head, this wasn’t going to reveal it.

He thanked Luther, made his excuses, and headed off to find the others. They weren’t at the tavern, but he got directions from there to the archery range. Apparently, Cara had decided that Gramok needed a lesson.

Well, she wasn’t wrong about that.

He set off there, struggling to keep his head from going around and around in circles.

Thirteen years ago, his father had come through here. He’d found something, but what? What had let him become Divine Emperor? Did he get privileged access to the system, somehow?

If his father had been anything other than useless, it was brilliant with computers.

Was that part of why he’d been kidnapped?

Was that why Ted was here, too?

So bloody many questions. The ruins below had damned well better hold some answers.

He came to a fork in the road. Which way had the tavern keeper said? Left?

Ted headed left and chuckled to himself at the thought of Gramok shooting Cara’s tiny old bow. That’d be a sight.

If he was the bloody Divine Emperor, why the hell did he need saving, anyway? It didn’t add up. Insufficient information.

There had to be an explanation.

What was it that Death couldn’t see? What had his father found?

Ted’s gut twisted. There was only one way to find out, and that way led through spirits with a love of possession. Of course it did.

How were supposed to fight spirits? From what Luther had said, most magic other than Telepathy didn’t affect them, but even that was spotty. Sometimes Calm Creature worked, sometimes… it didn’t.

There were runes that allowed weapons to hit them, not that they had any. He needed a weapon against them. If only he’d cracked the secret of using effects with different magic types than normal, then maybe he could make some kind of telepathic Blast spell, or something.

This was it. A large building with a bow and arrow engraved on the door. Subtle. Ted walked in, and there they were, looking just as ridiculous as he’d imagined.

Ted clapped Gramok on the shoulder and forced out a smile. “That bow’s exactly the right size for you, big guy.”

“You’re just jealous I don’t need a custom bow on account of how weak I am.”

“Totally.” Ted paused and bit his lip. “About earlier… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things. It’s my shit to deal with, not yours.”

Cara shook her head. “Your shit is our shit now, Ted.” Her cheeks reddened, and she turned away. “That came out wrong, but… you’re not alone.”

For how long? “Thanks. You got the maps?”

Gramok nodded. “Yeah, I knew Ardic would come through. Sorry, Lord Tonvalbortdelan.” He shook his head and slung his pack onto his back. “That’ll take some getting used to. Hope this place is still here when we come back.”

They headed out, beyond the gates, and down toward the Ruins of Tarkath. Gramok took the lead, with Cara behind, and Ted at the rear.

Cara was silent, devoid of her usual enthusiastic questions. It was hard to tell from behind how much of that was her injury, how much not to give away their position, and how much being rightfully pissed off at him.

Lashing out like that had been stupid, but what was done was done. This would pass, and she’d be back to her old, excruciatingly excitable self soon enough.

Single file, they passed through endless tunnels and caverns, following Gramok’s lead. After two hours of stop-start hiking, they hadn’t found even so much as a broken wall, let alone ruins.

The rocks were darker here, the caves bigger, and the temperature higher, but no ruins, and every cavern looked much the same as the next. How the hell did Gramok tell them apart?

Maybe he couldn’t. Maybe that was why they hadn’t moved for the last five minutes.

Ted moved up and peered over at the map. “You sure you’re reading that right?”

Gramok glared back. “It’s a copy of a highly detailed, ten-thousand-year-old, three-dimensional diagram of the most complex cave system in the world.”

Unbelievable. Ted threw up his hands. “That’s just a long-winded way of saying no.”

“Not what I said.” Gramok glanced at the map and pointed ahead at a caved-in tunnel. “That’s the way I’d planned to go. It’d lead straight into Tarkath.”

“Why didn’t you say? It doesn’t look too bad.”

“It’d take us hours, if not days, to clear that rubble.”

“Maybe it would take you that long, sure.” Ted stretched out and flashed Gramok a grin. “Me? Twenty minutes, tops.”

Cara turned, her arms in an X across her chest, and motioned with her eyes. Something was out there.

Ted nodded, took cover, and activated Stealth. Gramok hooded his lantern and did the same.

Maybe this time they’d get to do the ambushing.

Metal clanked in the distance. An irregular drum beat hovered at the edge of hearing, before growing louder and louder.

No, not a drum. Footsteps.

Heavy footsteps.

The earth rumbled heavier with every step. Whatever it was, it was big.

Red light flickered out of one of the tunnels, and humanoid figures marched out. Not goblins this time, no, these were at least as tall as men, though still armored in scraps. Only four of them, and not nearly big enough to cause the ground to shake.

There, behind them!

Ted’s heart skipped a beat. Twenty feet tall and almost as wide, with bulging muscles and a giant club—a troll.