KELL – THE BLACK MARKET, PORT CHANDREX, KLYDOR

11TH KENNOVASHAE, SPRING 845 PBM

Trailing along behind Josak, Kell had been balancing the need to watch what was in front of him, and to not drop any of the things he was carrying. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he may have been the only one to see the flicker of light and colour amongst a small group of people slightly to their left, and shortly after he saw duplicate images of the same person appear.

One was rapidly running away, barely noticeable amongst the other people in the market, and the other was now standing defiantly in front of Josak. He thought he had seen something get thrown at Josak. He wasn’t sure. But he could feel a rage now seething from the man. Annoyingly he felt a strange compulsion to now chase the figure he could see running away.

He briefly considered resisting, but even the thought of doing so caused heat and pain all along his breastbone. Still keen to resist his new ‘master’ he instead followed the compulsion but quite deliberately dropped everything he was carrying and set off after his quarry. It brought him a small joy to see all the things scatter and break on the ground, and yet he felt no pain or retribution from his magickal shackle.

As he ran, he tried just to focus on the figure he was pursuing, ignoring all of the other distractions, people and objects except those he had to navigate to chase his quarry. This was made increasingly difficult as panic spread through the market from what sounded like a hurricane occurring in the market itself.

‘Josak abuses the power of nature. Uses it as if it is his tool or slave. He is abhorrent on so many levels. Ancestors, help me to destroy him.’

Kell could not have explained why, but he was aware that he was finding it much easier than it should have been to track his target. His quarry was doing his best to sprint through the crowd, and there were now a lot of people trying to make their way for the exit, but he had no trouble following him. There were even a couple of times he lost sight of his quarry, and without really knowing how, he knew the boy had changed direction and run down one of the other mazes of makeshift aisles between the stalls.

The first time he trusted this instinct somewhat reluctantly, but after he had regained sight to his quarry, he began to trust it implicitly. By the third time he was not even questioning it.

It seemed the exit was now blocked with people, and for whatever reason people were either unable to escape the market, or were doing so very slowly, creating a logjam of people. He could see the boy now more clearly. He was much closer than before, and the boy had nowhere to run. The boy looked around quickly, trying to see if he was being followed, and perhaps decided to hide until the exit cleared. Whatever the reason, Kell saw the boy skulk off through the rows of stalls and hide under a large table covered with dark coloured cloth.

Kell hesitated. He realised he should probably be helping the boy rather than fighting him. He didn’t look much different to Kell in age, and if he was an enemy of Josak he was almost certainly a better person than Josak. But the simple thought of that started to cause a burning pain along his breastbone. Kell flinched and reluctantly began moving towards the table and his quarry again.

He didn’t know enough about this magic shackle to fight it yet. Or at least not enough to fight it over a stranger.

Unarmed, he looked around, and saw a table with weapons on it. It looked like it sold exotic weapons from cultures that were very different to the knightly weapons common in Klydor. He thanked the ancestors when he saw an axe not too much unlike the tomahawks he was accustomed to. He twirled it around in his hand and found the balance to be a little different. He would not throw this until he got used to it. But it would certainly do for now. He also picked up a large, cruel looking knife which he held in his left hand and began moving towards his concealed quarry again.

“Where are you?”

Kell stopped at the unexpected voice that almost sounded like it came from inside his head.

“Where are you?” the voice repeated. Kell recognised the voice as Josak.

“I am chasing the one who ran. You said not to let them get away,” Kell replied, feeling a little strange talking to himself.

“You need not speak your thoughts out loud for me to hear them. You can send your thoughts to me through your mind,” Josak instructed. Even through the projected voice he could hear what sounded like frustration, and perhaps exertion.

Kell tried to answer through his mind.

“I am following the boy. The one you seek.”

“You idiot! The boy is here. I have him trapped deep within the market with no chance of escape,” came Josak’s angered reply.

“There are two of them. I believe you may be fighting a copy,” replied Kell.

“What?” came Josak’s confused and surprised response.

Kell heard no immediate response, so he resumed moving towards where he believed the boy was hiding. He approached the stall and swiftly pulled back the cloth covering the stall. Several items went crashing to the floor. Kell was not concerned. His focus snapped to the boy who was now revealed, crouching under the stall. Their eyes locked.

“Help me, please,” pleaded the boy.

Kell considered it. He wanted to. But then he felt the pain starting in his chest.

Kell began moving forwards. The boy’s eyes looked to the weapons in Kell’s hands, and immediately began to scurry out from under the stall, but in the direction away from Kell.

PEREGRIN – THE BLACK MARKET, PORT CHANDREX, KLYDOR

Peregrin was not entirely sure what was happening, but he smiled in admiration when he saw Eva turn herself into a Mitchell decoy. He saw the figure she was clearly protecting Mitchell from, and both saw and felt the massive build-up of magickal Air energy that figure started summoning.

He felt an uncertain feeling in his stomach.

‘Is that fear? Couldn’t be. This is just a human. He knows nothing of magick compared to us.’

He attempted to counter the spell. Magick was not his specialty, but he suspected he was the equal of many human wizards.

His counter-spell failed miserably.

‘This human is unexpectedly powerful!’

Peregrin quickly summoned a burst of Air magick of his own and used it to propel himself into an athletic dive. The hurricane of winds thrown by the human were both impressive and horrifying. Even with his magically assisted evasion, the winds clipped him and tumbled him into one of the stalls.

He quickly bounced to his feet and drew both his blades. A quick glance told him Eva and Hawkin had fared much worse than he.

‘And so it falls to me.’

He began to move towards the human wizard, who had through either idiocy or genius announced himself as ‘Josak Norgette’.

‘Almost certainly arrogant idiocy.’

He saw this Josak was not alone. He had at least two more allies. And they were now moving to put themselves between Peregrin and the wizard. One was a large human warrior, with a massive great axe, a heavy manica on his left arm, and two golden gauntlets adorned with snake sigils. The second appeared to be an older man of Indian origin, although he appeared unarmed, which likely made him the more dangerous.

‘No unarmed man would enter combat such as this unless he had other skills.’

Peregrin briefly considered whether to keep his Sense Channelling enchantment running, or to swap it for his preferred Combat Mind. The first would give him advance warning of anyone trying to cast spells either near him or at him. The second would give him an advantage in combat by allowing him to see things a fraction of a second before they happened. It was possible to try and maintain both, but doing so got much more difficult, particularly if you were injured or dazed in combat, with the end result being you often lost both enchantments. And once combat was joined in earnest, there may be few opportunities to cast them again.

‘Too many possible casters. I will need the Sense Channelling.’

The large human warrior was moving towards him, but doing so cautiously, as if gauging Peregrin and what sort of opponent he might be.

‘Caution is wise. Something I have seen little of in these humans. This one is likely a veteran and understands the risks of underestimating an unknown opponent. Although in this case, it may allow me to take a shot at the old Indian before he gets to me.’

Peregrine began to draw in Air energy. He tried to do it slowly initially, hoping it may not be noticed, and then accelerated his efforts as the spell progressed. The residual air from the recent hurricane was an additional boon, and he found the energy for his spell could be drawn almost entirely from the air around him rather than from his internal magick reserves. He also found he could draw the energy much faster than expected.

Once he had sufficient energy, he used the magick to grab several items from stalls behind the old Indian, and propel them at him. Peregrin hoped the subtle signatures of Air magick combined with the attack coming from behind may catch his target unawares.

He felt a build-up of powerful charm magick again, and concerningly another build-up of mental magick. The charm magick, given its significant power level, was likely the human again, leaving the old Indian the most likely source for the other. Neither of those spells had much in the way of a spell signature, both of the magick sources for those being almost clear in colour, so there were no more visual cues to say who was doing what.

Peregrin couldn’t see exactly what the human wizard was doing, so it was possible he was the target for the powerful charm spell. But he couldn’t adequately defend against all three of his foes. He would have to hope some of them could be defeated more passively. Elves were naturally quite resistant to Charm magick. A result of their superior minds he suspected. So he trusted that this might be enough, or that perhaps the Charm was being cast on someone else, and instead he focused on the warrior and the old Indian in front of him.

The old Indian was either unaware or simply unable to defend himself from the surprise attack from behind, and the various orbs and trickets smacked into his back and the back of his head. He stumbled forwards, falling to his knees, and his spell-weave collapsed.

The moment he fell, Peregrin rushed the human warrior. The big human moved well, but his great axe was clumsy and slow. Peregrin easily evaded the first blow and after that the human was giving ground and defending against Peregrin’s flurry of blows with his axe and his manica. Peregrin managed to hit flesh twice, but neither would incapacitate the big man quickly.

‘This plan is only supposed to buy time for the others to recover. But maybe I have overestimated the capabilities of my allies. I hope not. I really didn’t have that much expectation to begin with.’

EVA – THE BLACK MARKET, PORT CHANDREX, KLYDOR

Eva sprinted towards the next stall and launched herself over it, using her momentum as she landed to tumble back to her feet. She could already feel her body protesting these movements. She had taken a great deal of punishment and bruising from Josak’s initial hurricane. It had taken all of her magickal skill to maintain concentration on her illusion enchantment as she was being buffeted around. Otherwise the charade would be over, and Josak would likely begin looking for Mitchell again. Eva was determined to ensure that did not happen.

Fiery arrows of magick slammed into the stall behind her, knocking priceless relics to the floor, and igniting long lost parchments. The one part of her impersonation she suspected was not very accurate was how well she was dodging and evading the various magickal attacks being thrown at her. Josak was expending a very large amount of magickal energy, and thus far, through her magickal mirror-mask and her elven heritage, she had resisted his attempts at Charm magick, and through her dexterity and speed she had dodged everything else.

Eva did not truly know the extent of Mitchell’s powers or skills, but she doubted he would have been able to evade like she could. Hopefully Josak didn’t know Mitchell well enough to realise.

She felt another build-up of Charm magick. She steeled her mind in preparation to try and resist the magick, but she never felt an assault of any kind assail her. She glanced around as she continued to run, and became suspicious she may not have been the target of that latest spell.

“Please. Stop that boy!” she heard Josak yell. “He stole something from me.”

Two roguish looking individuals that were either packing up, or ripping off, one of the abandoned stalls in front of her, suddenly stopped what they were doing and looked her way. The one on the left was lean, with long greasy blonde hair and a lopsided grin of crooked teeth. The one on the right was short and stocky, with a balding head of brown hair, and a ragged greying beard. Both immediately drew knives and began moving to intercept her, fanning out slightly as they did so.

Eva quickly evaluated her options.

‘If I cast anything, Josak likely tries to counter it. He is clearly more powerful than I, so likely he succeeds. I could probably kill these two, but that punishment is not their due. They are petty thieves, although they are only stealing from other rogues and thieves. Otherwise, they are as much victims here as I am.

So I have to incapacitate them. But I do it quickly or I likely die.’

Eva continued to run forwards, bringing her ever closer to the two rogues. She pulled from her belt a stick of wood just over an inch thick, and about a foot long. With a simple command word, the stick magically elongated into a full sized quarterstaff.

Almost without breaking stride she jumped into a slide and began to twirl the staff. It had tiny incisions made into each end which generated a distracting whistling noise whenever it was swung. The leaner, blonde rogue stopped, almost mesmerised by the sound. Eva whipped the staff down and through his lower legs, impacting his shins and causing him to crumple to the ground.

She then tumbled forwards and under a clumsy stabbing attempt from the shorter, stocky rogue before rolling back to her feet behind him.

She sensed the build-up of fire magick from somewhere nearby and saw the tell-tale streaks of red and yellow magickal energy as the fiery bolt hurtled towards them. It was clear Josak did not care if he hit his minions, provided he hit her. She threw up a shield of water hurriedly to defend them both. She focused on it, knowing she would need to if she wanted to stop one of Josak’s spells.

The fiery bolt slammed into the water shield, but the shield held, and the fiery arrow extinguished with nothing more than the hiss and a puff of smoke.

However, that action had forced her to both ignore the stout rogue, and to leave herself quite vulnerable to him. He stabbed at her from front on. Eva rolled. She felt the blade make contact with her torso. Her momentum, as she threw herself backwards, minimised the depth of the cut, but the wound still caused her to grimace in pain.

From her position on the ground, Eva twirled the staff into the feet of her attacker. He was thick and heavy, but the quarterstaff was equal to the task, knocking him clean off his feet. He crashed heavily to the ground. She slammed the stick into the back of his head, which in turn slammed his head into the stone floor. She could not be sure if he was unconscious, but he likely wasn’t getting up anytime soon.

She looked to the first leaner figure. He was already dragging himself away, clearly content to save himself regardless of the condition of his companion.

‘Loyalty clearly not a strong attribute for this particular criminal organisation.’

Eva flipped back to her feet, ignoring the pain that caused from her stab wound, and continued running. She kept going further into the market and away from the main entrance where Mitchell was hopefully escaping. It had now been too long since she had felt any kind of magickal build-up around her. This was troubling as it may have meant Josak was changing tactics. She sprang into another section of the market and using the stone blocks of the doorway as cover, peered back into the room.

There was no sign of him.

AZZANON – THE BLACK MARKET, PORT CHANDREX, KLYDOR

Azzanon finally extracted himself from the pile of stalls, people and goods he had been thrown into. He reached down and pulled a broken shard of a vase which had partially stuck him, tearing a hole in a very nice shirt as it had done so.

‘I am beginning to have doubts about the choice to help these people,’

Around him there was carnage. People were mostly running for the small exit. Some were bravely staying to try and salvage what they could from their stand. Or perhaps someone else’s stand. He suspected it might have been the difference between those people who operated their own stand versus those that employed someone to attend one.

‘It is one thing to risk your life to protect your business. But loyalty to your employer only goes so far. Cyclones occurring indoors and rampaging wizards it seems, are on the wrong side of that line.’

The real dilemma was what was he going to do. All of his training said his mission came first. Normally he would just ignore that, jump in, and go where the ride took him. But this was the first time he could recall where the idea that he might actually die didn’t seem so unlikely. And if that were to occur, what would become of the Princess?

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

‘But can I really just abandon these people to this fight? That seems like a most dishonourable form of cowardice. Azzanon Klarence Thibaut III was raised a better man than that.’

He looked around the trail of wrecked stalls for inspiration. While there were plenty of quite interesting looking items, there was not much which looked like it might help fight a crazed and powerful wizard.

And then he saw it. A gift from the Gods themselves.

A Dark Elf repeater crossbow.

He ran towards it.

‘Please be functional. Please have ammunition.’

He picked it up and began to quickly evaluate its condition. It had been a few months since he had used one, but these things were all the rage for showing off amongst weapon smugglers. It was a crossbow which largely reloaded itself after you fired, and it could hold spare shots in a special container that jutted upwards from its midline. These extra shots were automatically positioned to fire as part of the reloading mechanism. A trained operator could fire it every 1-2 seconds.

It looked in fine condition, with no obvious signs of damage. It even had the container for the ammunition attached to it. Unfortunately, Azzanon could also see that the container was empty. He began to look around to see if he could see any ammunition amongst the carnage.

“Hey! Gimme that. I saw it first,” came an almost squeaky, whiny voice. Azzanon looked to the speaker and saw a bedraggled and underfed young man. Azzanon could see he was having the quite day for himself, collecting all manner of ill-gotten goods from the abandoned stalls.

“And if I don’t?” Azzanon asked.

‘Please be smart, kid. I am kind of busy here, and you are a small and very unwelcome problem at this stage.’

“I’ll make ya!” came the reply, with as much meanness and intimidation as the young man could muster. Which wasn’t very much if Azzanon was being honest.

“I am willing to kill you for it,” Azzanon replied calmly, suddenly pointing the crossbow at him. He brought it up and stared at his would-be thief down the arm of the crossbow, accentuating the fact it was aimed straight at him.

‘Threatening someone with an unloaded crossbow… is this one of the high points or low points of my career? I guess that depends on if this fool knows enough to know it isn’t loaded.’

The young man considered his position briefly. He looked around for help, suggesting perhaps he had friends nearby. But none were close enough to assist him. He gave his best sneer, before turning and running away.

Azzanon only watched him run far enough to ensure he was no longer an immediate threat. Then he turned to see what was happening to the others.

He saw the wizard who had thrown the hurricane chasing after Mitchell, firing bolts of fiery magick from his hands at him. He looked around again for quarrels for his new crossbow. It took longer than he would have liked but he found what he believed to be three quarrels for it. He gathered them up and began moving in the direction he saw the wizard go, loading them into the ammunition container for the crossbow as he did so.

ENTRERIS, THE BLACK MARKET, PORT CHANDREX, KLYDOR

Everything had been going so smoothly. He had confirmed there was indeed the items they needed in the market. He had even ensured the old Eridani woman who had them would not sell them to anyone else until late in the day. He had loosely monitored them while they were in the market and had seen the purchase go smoothly.

And then the hurricane happened.

Entreris was accustomed to watching things. He had done that for longer than he could remember. He would occasionally interfere in subtle ways, manipulating the outcomes of a particular scenario for the greater good. And very rarely he would take a more direct hand in changing outcomes. But he did that as little as possible. It was dangerous. Half of him was not supposed to still be here.

And the universe knew it.

But now he could see Mitchell was being chased by the one who carried the shard of Razilin’Tera’s soul. And it didn’t seem like any help was coming.

‘Can we really just watch and let him die?’ Enteris asked.

The other half of his soul answered, ‘Interfering comes with great risk because the soul is here. We might reveal ourselves and then we will be a secret no more. This skirmish is not the war.’

He saw Azzanon, the young Drasnian, moving after Josak with what looked like a Dark Elf crossbow. That crossbow likely posed little threat to Josak, who would almost certainly have some kind of defence up for that. He could see the windy tendrils of a likely Air Shield surrounding the wizard even now.

‘We follow. The Drasnian likely dies, but perhaps there will be an opportunity for us to interfere, and change the likely outcome that will be better than interfering directly.’

The second half of his soul remained quiet. Entreris took that as acceptance. He always did.

He followed the Drasnian, remaining invisible. He was forced to deviate several times around areas of light too strong for him to cross without becoming visible. That he would not risk.

JOSAK – THE BLACK MARKET, PORT CHANDREX, KLYDOR

He had been tricked.

He cursed not having an enchantment running which would have allowed him to see the illusion for what it was. But you could only have so many running at once. And his Air Shield and his Sense Channelling always seemed the wisest and safest choices. It likely would not have mattered. All his enchantments had broken when that damn rock hit him in the head. And then he had expended significant amounts of magick trying to capture whatever the hell it was that had disguised itself as Mitchell.

‘One of the Seven? I didn’t see any, and unless one has died, I think I know most of them. And Anders should have most of them held captive.

Although I haven’t heard from him or my acolyte so its possible that has blown up. Would almost make me happy to see, if it means Ander’s plans lay in ruins, the arrogant upstart.’

‘But then who or what is it that I am chasing here?’

‘Doesn’t matter. I will figure out who it is later, and they will rue the day they ever dared try to make a fool of me.’

He strode forwards quickly, focusing on the feeling in his mind. After the strange message from the Indian boy, he had tried to feel for the Stone. He had already felt it once in this cursed market. And now he could feel it again, and from what he could feel it was escaping his grasp again. That would not do.

He saw a crossbow armed human coming the other way. He recalled him being nearby the fake Mitchell when this all started. Given everyone else was hiding behind their stall, or fleeing for their lives, it seemed unlikely his being this close to Josak now was a coincidence. And he was beyond caring if it was.

He began to channel Fire energy, easily his favourite of the magickal energies.

The human immediately brought up the strange crossbow weapon and fired it at him. Josak casually used a small part of the fire energy he had already channelled to form a fire shield which burned the bolt to ash and then he continued to cast his spell.

‘Pitiful wretch. Now you die!’

Suddenly there was a sphere of darkness in front of Josak blocking his view, and he could no longer see the human, or indeed any of the market around or behind him. It was likely the human was the centre of the magickal darkness, but Josak had sensed no casting from the man. So somebody else had concealed him. And somebody too far from Josak for his enchantment to sense it.

It would matter not. He would kill the human. Then his would-be protector. Then the boy.

Josak drew in more fire energy. He couldn’t see the human male now, but while he was reloading his stupid crossbow Josak would detonate a fireball that didn’t care where he was. It would destroy everything.

He smiled as he began the gestures to pull the fiery energy around him into the tight orb which would explode on impact. He wished he could see the carnage as it exploded, but he would just have to imagine what the look on his pathetic attacker’s face was as he the explosion ended him.

AZZANON – THE BLACK MARKET, PORT CHANDREX, KLYDOR

He saw Josak now moving back towards him. He didn’t know why. He decided he didn’t really care. Once the wizard’s eyes and his locked, he knew Josak was going to target him next. Red embers of magickal energy began to swirl around the wizard. So the decision was made for him.

He raised the crossbow and fired it in one smooth motion. From this range he didn’t really need to aim. The quarrel streaked towards the wizard.

And then a flash of a fiery shield appeared and turned the quarrel to ash.

Azzanon doubted he could charge across the distance between them before the wizard completed his spell. He didn’t know exactly what spell it would be, but he was pretty sure he would not like it. He could run, but he knew that likely wouldn’t achieve much either. And there wasn’t really anything close-by to hide behind.

‘So we go down firing, I guess.’

As he went to reload the crossbow his vision was suddenly lost, and everything went dark. Assuming the wizard to be responsible, Azzanon decided to just reload and fire as quickly as possible, hopefully before the wizard could move.

The repeater crossbow could be reloaded very quickly. It had a lever mechanism right near the ammunition container which pulled the string back and pushed another bolt into the right place to fire it. He did that, and again in a smooth action, brought the crossbow to his shoulder and fired it where the wizard had been.

ENTRERIS, THE BLACK MARKET, PORT CHANDREX, KLYDOR

The first crossbow bolt being defeated by the magickal defences of the soul-bearer was reasonably predictable.

As was the likely fiery doom about to befall Azzanon.

‘We must interfere!’ Enteris implored.

‘Then we must do it in a way which minimises the chance anybody ever knows we were here,’ Answered the other half of his soul.

He had deliberately remained far enough from Josak that his attempts to cast spells would not be detected by any Sense Channelling spells. So provided his magick did not target Josak directly, his spell casting would not be picked up, and hence could not be countered.

This gave him options. He would go with darkness. He was really good with Shadow magick. Always had been. Lurking in the shadows had been his life. His other half hated it. Casting shadow magick drew on dark and evil energies. He was constantly lectured it was a magick to be avoided by those who did not wish to taint their own soul. But the other half of his soul did not offer a better idea. So it remained quiet.

The globe of darkness was dropped over Azzanon, concealing him from Josak. It also concealed how quickly the crossbow could be reloaded. Instead of 20 seconds or more, this one was reloaded in two seconds.

This attack had no magickal build-up to detect, so without being able to see it, Josak had no way to even know to put up a magickal defence. This would leave only his Air Shield, a persistent barrier of air to protect him. But given it was made to essentially prevent ranged attacks from hitting their target, it would normally be quite effective.

Normally.

As the bolt was loaded and fired, it too was subtly manipulated with magick. The bolt was turned from wood into a bolt of shadowy energy. One that would pass unharmed through an air barrier.

Importantly, it was a change that Azzanon would never even see. And neither would Josak until it was too late. The only thing left to chance was Azzanon’s aim.

The second bolt flew through the darkness and slammed into Josak’s shoulder. A shocked look came over the wizard’s face. Fiery magick tendrils lanced out around him as he lost control of his spell, igniting small wisps of flame on the stalls and anything else they touched.

It seemed like Josak cursed, and then a pop of teleportation magick occurred, and Josak disappeared.

‘A contingency spell. Likely triggered by any serious injury. I bet he cursed because he deeply wishes it had not gone off. This close to the Stone, which he has sought for a very long time, and now his own magick teleports him away,’ Enteris thought.

‘Still, we must not be complacent,’ cautioned the other half of his soul. ‘If he is not too badly injured he could return. We must get everyone out of here quickly.’

KELL, THE BLACK MARKET, PORT CHANDREX, KLYDOR

Kell leapt over the stall and tackled the boy. They rolled over each other several times. Kell could sense immediately he was stronger, and much more adept at wrestling. The boy was determined, but other than dragging out the wrestle, the outcome was never in question.

‘Get the stone. It is likely in some kind of magickal pouch or container,’ came the words of Josak in his mind. ‘I am coming for you both now.’

Kell did not know why, but this created a strong desire within him to get this stone.

Once he had the boy pinned beneath him and somewhat pacified he asked him, “Where is the magick stone?”

The boy’s eyes went wide with what Kell assumed was fear. But the boy didn’t say anything.

“Where is the magick stone? And the magick thing you carry it in?” Kell repeated.

Again the boy did not answer, but his eyes briefly strayed downwards towards his chest. As if checking whether something was visible, or perhaps still there.

Kell re-arranged them both so he had the boy’s hands pinned, but freed up one of his own. He then used this hand to reach inside the boy’s tunic and found a pouch concealed within a pocket. As he took the pouch he saw the look of alarm across the boy’s face, and Kell felt him try desperately to wrestle his way free again.

Kell struck him in the head to stop his struggling, and then once more to knock him out. He then rolled off. Grabbing his weapons from nearby, he ran back towards Josak and Atenati.

‘Can you still hear me?’ he sent through his mind, hoping Josak could still hear him.

‘I can,’ came the reply, but it sounded like someone in a lot of pain.

‘I have the stone,’ informed Kell.

‘That is fantastic. You have done very well.’ Even through his thoughts he could feel the emotional surge that went through Josak. ‘I will teleport you back to me now.’

‘But how? You cannot see me,’ Kell thought. This one was not intended for Josak to here.

‘Your collar connects you to me. I will always be able to return you to my side. There will never be escape for you. You can only earn your freedom. And I can sense your thoughts when we are connected like this. So do not even dream of betraying me.’

Kell felt as Josak’s magick reached out for him, and then he was hit with a brief, dizzying wave of nausea. He blinked and when his eyes reopened, he was no longer in the market at all.

He was back at Josak’s safehouse.

HAWKIN, THE BLACK MARKET, PORT CHANDREX, KLYDOR

Even Hawkin wasn’t sure anybody was going to believe this story. He and Peregrin were fighting the same wagon master from the other night at the bar, an old Indian, and a bunch of what could only be described as animal spirits, which he was pretty sure the old Indian was summoning somehow.

The old Indian had strange powers. He had already done something to Hawkin which had caused him to become incredibly nauseous and vomit everywhere. He imagined this must be how people with hangovers felt. It was terrible.

And the feeling had been getting worse until Peregrin threw something and knocked the old Indian over for the second time. After that Peregrin had told him to fight Gerard and he would fight the Indian. Seemed strange asking to fight an old man, but Hawkin suspected these elves weren’t as good as they pretended, so he wanted Hawkin to fight the real warrior.

Hawkin had heard a wolf and maybe a bear howl, and then the spirit animals had just appeared. They looked like white, ghostly versions of real animals, including being partially transparent. There was a bear, a wolf and a large stag with scary looking antlers now standing between them and the Indian.

Even Gerard seemed surprised by their appearance. He turned to the side, equally ready to defend against Hawkin or the wolf, which was the nearest of the ghostly animals.

“Is your sword enchanted?” asked Peregrin, the urgency clear in his voice.

“Probably,” replied Hawkin. It was a family heirloom. It had been the sword of his grandfather and at least his father before that. He imagined he had been told. But he had never really paid attention to any of his classes on magick.

“Then you should ‘probably’ use that on the spirits. They will be immune to anything which is not,” warned Peregrin. Although the way he inflected the word probably made Hawkin believe he was being mocked again.

‘Arrogant, bloody Elf. I wouldn’t be totally upset if the bear mauls you just a little bit.’

The wolf ran and jumped at Hawkin. He raised his shield to ward off the attack, but the damn spirit passed straight through it, and he felt it impact against his chest, knocking him off his feet and onto the ground. The feeling of it biting his left arm certainly seemed real enough. And he could feel its weight upon him and its claws scrabbling at his armoured form.

He tried to use his legs to throw it off, but his legs connected with nothing. They passed harmlessly through the apparition as well.

‘How the hell do you fight these things?’

Once again, he suspected the answer may have been covered in one of those oft-ignored classes.

He got his right arm free and smashed the pommel of his sword into the wolf’s head. That connected. The impact of the blow knocked the wolf off him. He saw Gerard coming in as well with a great overhead swing of his axe. He rolled desperately away, and the axe slammed into the ground mere inches from his chest.

He managed to roll up onto his knees before the wolf lunged at him again. This time he brought the point of his sword up and just held the sword out towards the flying spirit. He braced himself for an impact, whether that be to his blade or to his body.

The apparition struck the point of the sword with its head and then just disappeared. A faint puff of ghostly smoke was the only indication it had ever been there at all. Unfortunately, Gerard was still very much real. Hawkin saw the great axe coming in again, so he brought his shield up protectively in front of him.

The axe slammed into the metal shield with a loud bang. The force of the blow knocked Hawkin from his knees and he went sliding across the ground on his arse. Hawkin quickly evaluated his shield and could see it was badly damaged. It was unlikely to survive another blow like that.

“Yield boy, and you get to live. I am not here for you,” offered Gerard.

Hawkin never even considered the offer. Surrendering didn’t seem very heroic or glorious. And for some reason the idea he might die didn’t occur to him. But he gladly feigned like he was thinking about it, while using that time to get back to his feet.

He quickly looked to Peregrin and saw him unbelievably leap over a charging ghost bear, somehow tumbling between the bear’s thick body and the not particularly high roof, while running his blade down its back. The bear disappeared in a puff of smoke. He could not see the deer, so he assumed it had already suffered a similar fate.

Once he had recomposed himself, he replied, “No. I am good.” And he resumed his fighting stance.

“You do know I am better than you?” asked Gerald, clearly annoyed he hadn’t surrendered.

“Then why aren’t I dead yet?” asked Hawkin, as he lunged forward with a flurry of sword swings.

“Because killing noble kids brings trouble I don’t need,” replied Gerald, fading back and avoiding the blows quite easily. “But its only a matter of convenience. Once its more convenient to kill you, you will be dead.”

To illustrate the point, he launched one massive attack of his own, his huge axe just whistling past Hawkin’s head. Even Hawkin wasn’t sure if he had just managed to dodge it, or the attack had meant to miss.

“Everybody drop your weapons, now! This is the Inquisition.” came an authoritative cry, which echoed through the market.

The combat stopped.

“Come to me, now!” said the old Indian with a calm authority. “It will not do for us to be detained here.”

“Looks like you get to live. But don’t cross my path again,” warned Gerald, as he began to move towards the old Indian.

Hawkin was torn. He didn’t know if he should keep fighting to try and detain them, or whether he should be fleeing so he didn’t get arrested. It is likely his father’s connections could get him out of any charges. He wasn’t even sure if just being here was an offence. But Mitchell had bought something, and there was a good chance it was illegal. It was likely better for his family name, and certainly better for the next meeting he ever had with his father, if he was not detained here.

‘How do criminals get away when stuff like this happens?’ He didn’t have any idea.

He looked to Peregrin, but he looked as confused as Hawkin.

“We should probably evade the authorities, if possible,” suggested Hawkin, although his tone left it halfway between a comment and a question.

“How?” asked Peregrin simply. “We only know of one exit and that is where the authorities are.”

While Hawkin knew that was right in theory, it seemed odd. Surely the roguish people who ran this type of establishment had to have considered the possibility of the authorities showing up. And if they had, then almost certainly they would have secret exits to allow at least the important people to escape.

He saw Azzanon coming towards them. He had the young cute dark-haired girl from the stall they bought the troll blood from.

‘Excellent. Maybe she knows a way out. Or she needs our help. I wonder how she might reward me if I saved her?”

While his mind pondered the possibilities of the reward she might give him, most of them quite lewd, it never occurred to him that he had little idea how to get her out of here.

“This is Matrinda,” introduced Azzanon. “And she has very generously allowed us to escape with her and her mother from the lovely people with the Inquisition.”

“How many laws have you broken?” asked Hawkin with a grin.

Azzanon theatrically waved him away. “My boy, nothing they could ever prove. But the professional embarrassment with my own order if I get arrested by these amateurs, that I might never live down.”

There was brief flash of light and a pop. Hawkin turned toward the sound but saw nothing.

“Our foes just teleported away,” Peregrin reported, with the usual lack of emotion, as if people teleporting away was the normal way to leave a room.

“Quickly,” insisted Matrinda, as she started to move with urgency.

“Are you sure? This is the same way Josak was going when he attacked me. He had been going that way before that,” queried Azzanon, pointing in the opposite direction.

“This is the way to the secret exit,” Matrinda replied.

“Where is Mitchell?” Hawkin asked.

“I don’t know,” conceded Azzanon. “Where is Eva?”

Hawkin shrugged.

They began to follow Matrinda, but slowly, as they each looked around for some sign of Mitchell or Eva.

Peregrin pointed them out first. Eva was moving towards them but coming from the direction of the market entrance. That was also not the way Josak had seemed to be going. And she seemed to have a body floating in the air, trailing along behind her.

Hawkin held his breathe when he realised it was Mitchell.

“Is he dead?” he asked, the panic evident in his voice.

“No. He is unconscious,” Eva replied. “But he was too heavy for me to carry and still move quickly. We must leave here now.”

Relief washed through Hawkin.

“What happened to him?” asked Hawkin, as they all started to move off again.

“He was attacked. But I do not know who by,” replied Eva. “I do not think it was Josak.”

Hawkin was still pondering who the other options were when Matrinda lead them into a chamber with no other doors. It was dark, slightly damp, and the stalls here all looked old and unused. There was clearly a small section of the wall slid across, revealing a narrow passage that led into the wall. A small pock-faced man urged them to hurry.

“Quickly. We must close the door. Did you see anyone else coming?” he asked.

“No. We are the last,” replied Matrinda.

They all moved down the corridor and he slid the wall shut behind them.