Callan broke through the underbrush and stumbled to a halt at the river’s bank. Mossy stones lined the sides here, easy enough to slip on if you weren’t careful.

Which is probably what happened to the yeth boy currently flailing about in the water.

“Hold on!” Callan yelled. The figure didn’t respond, just continued struggling futilely against the current, which was sweeping steadily away from the lake and deeper into the woods.

Belatedly, he realized he recognized the yeth. It was the same young boy who had been watching him right before Callan and Sworv ducked into the woods. He didn’t look much older than twelve.

The boy disappeared momentarily beneath the waters before sputtering back to the surface. Callan shook himself out of his stupor and started running along the bank after.

Unfortunately, the boy was too far in to reach with a branch, even if Callan had the time to stop and break one off an overhanging tree. He eyed the water as he ran. It didn’t look deep, but it was apparently over the kid’s head. Simply jumping in after him would probably be a bad idea.

From somewhere behind came Sworv’s voice. “Callan!”

“Over here!” he shouted back, maintaining a brisk jog to keep pace with the river. Again, the boy slipped beneath the surface again, only to come thrashing back up.

Callan leapt over a fallen log, then skidded to a halt. Turning, he grabbed the log and heaved it upward. It tore away from the moss growing over it with a dull ripping noise, bits of dirt and wood chips raining down on the forest floor.

“Here!” With all his might, Callan heaved the log into the river.

For a brief moment, he thought his aim was off and he’d crushed the boy with his makeshift lifeboat. The log hit the water with a resounding splash, water spraying in all directions and momentarily hiding the yeth boy from sight.

Then the mist cleared, and Callan saw him clinging to the log for dear life.

Alright, that solved the most immediate problem. Now he just needed to—

Mortal! Look up ahead!

Callan craned his neck, and what he saw sent his heart plummeting into his stomach. Up ahead, just barely visible in the distance, the river simply ended. In fact, the entire landscape ended, and Callan saw nothing but open air beyond.

They had almost reached the edge of the plateau.

“Don’t panic!” he yelled to the kid, who had at the very least stopped screaming. “I’m going to—just keep holding on!”

With a burst of speed, Callan tore off ahead, trying to gain as much distance on the boy as possible. The forest passed by in a blur, bushes occasionally snagging on his clothes for a brief second before he tore himself loose, or branches cracking in half as they struck him in the face.

Callan ignored all of this, pushing himself to the limit.

Then the cliff was suddenly in front of him, and he skidded to a halt, arms pinwheeling. The roar of the river as it poured over the edge to plummet towards the canyon floor below was deafening. If the kid went over the edge... He glanced back the way he’d come.

The yeth was still clinging to the log, which bobbed along in the current merrily, oblivious to its impending fate. Past that, Callan could see Sworv puffing along, hands holding the tails of his robes high to avoid getting caught on the undergrowth. Even so, the man was never going to make it in time to be of any help.

It was up to Callan.

Bringing his hands together, he activated Shape Stone, immediately feeling the familiar sensation of grasping something that wasn’t there between his fingers. Directing the little orb of light into the river, he pulled upward with all his might.

A shelf of rock burst from the water like a jagged tooth, perhaps two feet across at its tip. Callan hurriedly smoothed it out, then set to raising another next to it.

Alert: 2.75% Apotheosis used.

Total Apotheosis is at 9%

Alert: 2.75% Apotheosis used.

Total Apotheosis is at 11.75%

Alert: 2.75% Apotheosis used.

Total Apotheosis is at 14.5%

Soon Callan had a row of blunted spikes stretching across the river. Water coursed between them, but already several branches had begun to stick in places where the gaps weren’t wide enough to permit them past. Callan raised his hands to create another spike, but at that moment the boy and his log reached the teeth.

The log struck Callan’s barrier with a gut-wrenching thud, and for a moment the breath caught in his throat as he thought it might simply tumble over them and be gone. But it held—if just barely.

Leaving the boy trapped in the river.

“Shit.” Callan glanced about, wondering if there was something he could throw, but there was nothing. Just plenty of rocks. Maybe if he shaped them into a long pole, he could—

He realized what he was overlooking the same moment that Xeph spoke. Use Wurmchain, mortal. It is your best chance of pulling him free before the river’s pressure sends that log tumbling.

Right. He already had a rope, didn’t he?

Alert: 2.75% Apotheosis used.

Total Apotheosis is at 17.25%

The chain pooled at Callan’s feet. Gripping the handle tight, he started forward.

Now, human, simply snag the end of the log and—what are you doing?!?

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Callan leapt into the river. At the same moment, he swung Wurmchain behind him, burying the tip into the solid rock of the bank. He hit the water with a splash, immediately feeling it tug him towards the edge.

Then Wurmchain went taught, swinging him along in a wide arc.

He reached the log in seconds. From atop it, the boy stared at him in wide-eyed panic. They were the same green color as Belinda and Alyssa’s, though the boy had a mop of brown hair atop his head, still an unruly mess despite multiple dunkings in the river. Callan reached out a hand to him.

“Grab hold!” When the boy hesitated, he stretched out to his absolute limit. “Come on, you really want to go over the edge that badly? Take my hand!”

That seemed to snap the boy out of his shock. He lunged forward, seizing ahold of Callan’s hand. From there, he clambered onto his back, hands wrapping tight around Callan’s throat.

Mortal... At Xeph’s tone, Callan turned in time to see the log pitch over the teeth and plummet down into the canyon.

With the barrier gone, the water began pulling on Callan even more insistently. The teeth drew closer with alarming speed.

“Hold tight!” he called, as he twisted about and reached higher on the chain. Mountainform sealed around his hands with barely a thought.

Alert: 5.5% Apotheosis used.

Total Apotheosis is at 22.75%

Pain seared into his palms as Wurmchain cut into him deep. Callan gritted his teeth and hauled himself further. He could feel his toes dangling over the waterfall’s edge, and kicked about, trying to hook one of the teeth to no avail. Behind him, the boy let out a terrified scream and thrashed about.

“Yeah, yeah! I’m—oof—trying to concentrate here!” Callan hollered over the roar of the river. Slowly, painfully slowly, he pulled himself along the chain. As he passed over the rings, a few of them rubbed against his chest, slicing the skin with ease. He cursed, then gritted his teeth and pulled faster.

The edge of the river appeared after what felt like an hour of pure torture. Sworv stood on the bank, arms outstretched towards him. “Avatar!”

“Take the kid!” A moment later the pressure on Callan’s back lifted, and he let out a sigh of relief. Pulling himself the last few rungs, he flopped onto the bank, breath heaving, blood running in rivulets down his chest.

“Are... are you alright?” He finally managed to wheeze out. When there was no answer, he sat up and found Sworv kneeling beside the soaking yeth boy, who had a sizeable puddle of water growing around him. No blood mixed in though, thank goodness for that.

“Hey, kid.” The boy’s eyes snapped up at Callan’s voice, eyes so wide almost all he could see was white. “Anything broken? Any cuts or bruises?”

“Please don’t tell my father,” the boy responded, the words whip quick.

Callan and Sworv glanced at each other a moment before returning their attention to the boy. “I won’t say anything about this if you don’t,” Callan said at last. “In fact, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention what you’d seen back there before your impromptu swim. Think you can do that?”

The boy nodded hastily, then clambered to his feet. Callan rose as well, then almost stumbled. It seemed he hadn’t recovered from his own dunking as much as he’d thought.

“I need to go. They’ll be wondering why I’m not in the fields.” The boy glanced between them, then gave a short bow. “Thank you for saving me.”

With that, he turned and dove into the forest, the sound of snapping branches and crackling leaves fading into the distance. Callan strained his ears, but when no sounds of splashing or further distress reached him, turned back to the older lud. “I guess our work here is done.”

“Yes, I suppose it is Av—Callan.” The priest coughed, then glanced over his shoulder. “Should we be worried about the boy speaking of what he saw?”

“Nah, I think he was more scared of what might happen to him than anything else. Even if he does, there’s no reason to think anyone will believe him.” Callan almost couldn’t hear the lie in his own words, but in the end, there wasn’t much he could do. Either their secret was out or it wasn’t.

And the mission still remained the same.

They set off again following the river upstream, Callan not trusting his own senses to lead him through the forest the way the boy’s had. Soon enough they reached the edge of the lake.

“I think we’re done training for today,” he said, stretching his arms out and feeling the still damp clothes tugging at him uncomfortably. “That alright with you, Xeph?”

Yes, yes. It is not the progress I hoped to see, but the day is getting on, and we should return early enough not to risk missing our evening meeting with the mayor.

“Good point.” They circled the lake, taking a moment to watch the fishermen lazily working their way from one side to the next, then cut across the nearest field, heading for the inner streets of Aos that they had bypassed earlier.

There, Callan came upon a pleasant surprise. At the center of the village was a small courtyard, cobbled with round, fist-sized stones that gave it a look not unlike some medieval market square.

He’d thought this place looked like Leavenworth, but maybe it was more accurate to say Leavenworth looked like Aos.

In the center of the square stood a large block of stone perhaps twenty feet high, cut so that it had a sharp, pentagonal look to it. There at the top was a weathervane made to look like an arrow piercing a sphere. It was easily the size of a lud, or perhaps larger still, though it was difficult to tell for certain from this angle. The metal of it was almost completely rusted over, yet it still twisted noiselessly in the breeze.

“How in the world did they ever manage to drag a stone that big all the way here?” Callan muttered to himself. He stopped near the base of the pillar and stared upward.

“Would you believe it was here when my parents founded the village?” a voice from beside him said.

Callan nearly leapt out of his skin. A scream bubbled in his throat, but died as soft giggles filled the air. Alyssa stood nearly doubled over, a hand pressed against her mouth to stifle the worst of her laughter.

“Sorry, sorry! If I’d realized you were so lost in our town’s monument, I’d have left you be.”

“No, it’s fine. The fault’s not yours.” Callan glowered in mock fury at Sworv. “Someone is supposed to be on guard for that sort of thing.”

“I was?” Sworv’s look of shock was so profound that it took all of Callan’s efforts not to start laughing as well. Alyssa apparently had no such reservations, hugging her sides as her shoulders shook with mirth.

“So, what brings you to the town square, Callan?” she asked, once her laughter was finally under control. “Hoping to peruse our wide selection of exotic goods? Or maybe you thought to take in the theater? I hear they’re putting on a performance of ‘The Kinsman’s Daughter’ this season.”

“You guys have a theater?”

The yeth woman gave him a bemused look, then shook her head. “Nor much in the way of exotic goods, I’m afraid. Though my uncle does keep a wider selection than you might expect at his trading post over there.” She indicated one of the nearby buildings. “Beyond that, I’m afraid there is little to do in Aos beyond watch the crops grow.”

She turned and walked away without further preamble. Somewhat caught off guard, Callan glanced at Sworv, who gave a confused shrug. Turning back, he hurried after the yeth woman.

“I’ve got to admit, you’re different than I initially thought,” he said as he fell in alongside. Alyssa glanced over, a muted smile on her lips.

“Oh? And how did you find me before?”

“Quiet. Reserved.” He almost said timid but stopped himself in time. The way her smile widened, he thought she suspected what had been on his mind.

“Simply because I chose not to participate in my family’s little farce last night does not mean I am without things to say,” she finally told him. They arrived at the door to a large open-air smithy. Alyssa took an apron hanging on a peg near the entrance and slipped it on.

“Yeah, your mom and brother do seem to enjoy their good cop, bad cop routine, don’t they,” Callan said, rubbing the back of his neck. Alyssa turned and stared at him quizzically.

You’re lucky you have me, mortal, Xeph groused. Otherwise, you’d never make any sense to the people of this world with all of your strange human phrases and mannerisms. Fortunately for you, I corrected your word choice just in time.

“Forgive my ignorance.” Alyssa had settled a hand on hip. “But what, exactly, does ‘benevolent guardsman, heartless guardsman’ mean?”

Callan burst out laughing, while Xeph spluttered inside his head. “Sorry, my, ah, partner sometimes contributes to the conversation in ways that make sense only to him.”

It was a common saying during the last age! Xeph said defensively.

“Anyway, I hope that doesn’t mean you resent our presence here the way your brother is pretending to.”

“Oh, it’s not entirely an act; it never is with him. But no, I take no issue with your presence here. If it leads to a quicker resolution to this whole mess, then all the better.”

She started sifting through a pile of nearby metal lumps, lifting one up to the light, considering it, then tossing it aside in favor of another. Callan watched her for minute, but it seemed the woman had all but forgotten his presence.

“I should probably go,” he said at last.

“Enjoy the rest of your exploration, Callan. I will see you again at dinner.”

He turned and started walking away. Paused. His gaze drifted up to the enormous weathervane as it shifted slightly first one direction, then another.

Turning around, he marched back inside. Alyssa was still sorting through her metal. “Yes?”

“Are you the one who made the weathervane?” he asked.

“Of course. Can’t you tell?” She gestured to everything around her.

“You don’t think making artwork is a useless endeavor?” Callan recalled what Kivi had told him when she’d gifted him the statue from her first visit.

Alyssa turned and considered him. “Do you?”

“Of course not.”

For the first time, he saw a genuine smile creep onto her face. “In that case, it’s not artwork if it serves a purpose.”

Huh. “Of course. Sorry to bother you.”

“Not a problem, Callan. Talk to you this evening.”