Fillas stared across the deck of the ship. His seamanship was lacking, but even he could see a storm was coming. The vessel rolled with the waves, but even this mild motion was too much for his friend, who lay groaning below decks, clutching the rim of a bucket.

Ha! Serves the git right for being so good at everything.

Basking in the brisk sea spray, he stayed above decks longer. Though it was cold, it was still better than the cabin. Cortain was having a terrible time of it, and no remedy the captain had offered worked to cure it. The cabin reeked as a result.

Fillas smiled. It had been fun to watch him quaff each rank concoction the captain insisted would cure him.

As he stared across the horizon, the sunlight faded.

“Captain, I don’t like the looks of those clouds.” Fillas shouted over the pounding of the waves.

“Well," the captain replied from the helm, "you’re the Elemental. Do something about it!”

They were on a cargo ship heading for some unknown isle. Upon his return to the tower, Fillas had received another assignment, barely having a day to himself. Whilst waiting in port for the ship to collect him, Cortain had arrived with a similar mission. It was odd, but the seal was intact, and Arakar wasn’t around to countermand the order. Tomean was nowhere to be found, either, and no one knew his whereabouts. Tomean’s conspiracy theories were looking more credible by the day. Looking again at the gathering storm, he shook his head.

Fillas shook his head at the gathering storm. “I didn’t specialise in weather magic,” he shouted.

The captain snorted but said nothing more. He seemed to turn his full concentration on keeping the ship straight as the violent winds whipped the sea into a frenzy.

If only Tomean were here. His knack for weather magic would be useful right about now.

As the weather worsened, Fillas retreated to the safety of the lower decks. The ship was caught in a tempest, and each wave slammed into her like a mighty blow from an angry sea monster. Fillas stumbled into his and Cortain's cabin and wrinkled his nose at the smell of stale vomit.

Cortain groaned from his spot on the floorboards as he clutched his stomach. The bunks were basic contraptions that folded against the wall to create more space. Ship life didn’t leave room for luxuries, and the designer had opted for efficiency over comfort.

Fillas grimaced as he let down his own bunk opposite where Cortain sat against the wall. “Bloody hell, this place stinks!”

Cortain grunted in reply.

“I’ve got bad news for you, friend," Fillas said. "We're in the middle of a storm. It's not going to get much better any time soon.”

Cortain squeezed his eyes shut.

“Well," Fillas said, "you're good fun aren’t you? Master Arakar mentioned a technique to combat seasickness. Were you not paying attention?”

Cortain didn't even grunt this time. Frowning, Fillas lay down on the hard mattress. If Cortain wasn't up for banter, he was fine with that. He needed rest. As the ship rocked, Fillas fell asleep, despite the ferocity of the storm.

* * *

Fillas woke as he was thrown from his bunk. He hit the floor hard, his teeth nipping his lip. Rising to his feet, he wiped blood from his mouth and eyed the loose bed straps. He cursed himself for not tying himself down before attempting sleep. Cortain had pulled out his own cot and was fast asleep. Not wanting to disturb him, Fillas quietly sat on the end of his bed. But then a great thud rattled the ceiling.

Things must be bad up there.

Fillas tip-toed out of the cabin, closing the door softly behind him, and kept one hand on the wall to keep him steady as he sought the bottom of the ladder. His first instinct had been to help, but then he hesitated.

What am I doing? I'm no sailor.

As he contemplated returning to his bunk, a sailor shouted in alarm. The shriek curdled Fillas's stomach. He rushed back to the cabin and threw the door open, grabbing his axe and long knife. His armour was locked away in his trunk, useless. Its heaviness would drag him to a watery death if someone knocked him overboard while wearing it, so he didn't bother gong after it.

“Cortain," Fillas said, "did you hear that? Get up, man. Something's going on.”

Cortain stirred, but he wasn’t quick enough.

Fillas couldn't wait. “I’ll meet you up top. Hurry.”

With that, he ran out of the cabin, making his way to the upper deck.

* * *

Coming topside was like walking into a nightmare. Every flash of lightening illuminated terrifying scenes of great sea monsters attacking the ship, and while the crew was fighting back, they'd clearly met their match.

Fillas surveyed the storm clouds, feeling grim. Fighting in the near-dark, in the rain, on a surface that constantly pitched one way and then another was not his idea of a nice afternoon.

With the storm's downpour, the deck was slippery, making treacherous fighting conditions. Forming a mental sending, he informed Cortain.

Fillas sent a mental alarm to Cortain even as he slid a few inches on the slippery deck.

Fillas drew his doubled-headed axe and gripped it with both hands. Drawing in magic, he spoke a Word of Power, and the head of his weapon lit up with a variety of runes. It was a new weapon chosen from the tower's armoury, a replacement of the one destroyed in the Amnan mine. Its edge became super-heated and sizzled as each droplet of rain hit, the sound barely audible over the crashing waves. Finding his balance, Fillas stalked toward the nearest monster. No two of them looked the same, each made up of different ocean creatures. Some with hard shells and crushing claws, others with tentacles and bladed fins. Whatever they were, they were cutting through the crew with relative ease.

No stranger to melees, Fillas soon found his legs on the rolling deck, though he wasn't fool enough to think the ship couldn't toss him at any moment. The first creature that approached him reminded him of a Kranoid, except it was much larger than the ones he'd fought on the beach all those years ago. It looked at him with dead, grey, mottled eyes, and gracelessly shuffled toward him.

It held no weapons, but it boasted sharp, curved talons at the tip of its fingers. From the way it twitched, it seemed eager to rip him apart. Aware that he wore no armour, he considered using his magic. But out at sea, he had to avoid causing damage to the ship. Combat magic was very destructive.

The thing shrieked at him; the sound was alien to his ears. Holding his ground, he readied himself as it charged. It closed the distance quickly, its muscular frame becoming more apparent as it neared and a strike of lightening highlighted the ripple of muscle under its dull scales. Fillas refused the grasp of fear and dodged to his right, sliding out of the way as it passed him. He swung his axe, hitting its arm.

The axe bounced off the scales with such a force that Fillas cried out as the other side of the axe nearly bit into his face. His attack seemed to have wounded the creature; it hissed and held its arm. But it was far from dead. Its scales, it seemed, were stronger than any armour. Grunting, Fillas swung again, this time aiming for the back of its exposed neck. With surprising speed, it dodged out of the way. Overextended, Fillas stumbled and slid on the wet planks, nearly falling. The creature pounced, and Fillas reacted quickly.

He let go of his axe with one hand and summoned the Power, backhanding the creature. The blue flash of light knocked it off its feet. The impact sent Fillas skidding back a few steps on the wet deck. Regaining his balance as it scrambled to its feet, Fillas cast another spell. Green filaments of Power snaked out from his hand and latched onto the creature, enveloping it in a green energy web. Closing his fist, he inverted the spell. The net tightened around his enemy. Its scaled body resisted longer than it should have before the web dissected it into many parts.

With a heavy thud, chunks of meat fell to the deck, and purple blood mixed with the sea water sloshing on the ship's deck. Fillas whipped around to assess the next threat to find the situation more dire than when he'd first stepped into the rain to fight.

Most of the crew were dead, fallen to the claws, pinchers, and other natural weapons of the deadly monsters. Fillas's stomach revolted as more of them clambered over the railings onto the deck.

C’mon, Cortain!

Now was not the time to worry about the ship. Forming the spell in his mind, he cast a clearing bolt of energy towards the grotesque marauders. The arcane energy fizzled as it arced away from him, forming a thin horizontal line of sharpened power.

“Any man left alive, duck now!” It was a needless shout; they were all dead.

The blazing line shot forward, slicing through everything in its way, shearing through neck after neck. He tried to keep it contained enough that it wouldn't cut through the mainmast, but that limited its killing range. Fillas channelled more magic into his axe. The extra power raced down its length, bursting into flame as it reached its head.

He'd gained the beasts' attention. They shambled towards him, many of them with a limb cut cleanly off by his spell. Still, those who still lived were not completely relieved of their natural weapons.

Fillas grinned against the impossible odds and swung his flaming axe to meet them.

* * *

Cortain groaned when Fillas's voice boomed inside his mind via their bond. He was in no shape to fight, but he wasn't ready to die, either. He stood on shaky legs.

In his weakened state, he left his swords behind. He didn’t have the constitution to wield them, so he kept his arsenal strictly magical. Fighting another wave of nausea, he channelled magic and pushed past his ailments, rushing into the corridor toward the ladder.

He didn’t normally feel the effects of seasickness; this wasn't his first voyage. But somehow, his sea legs had been lost, and the journey had been agony. A burning sensation pushed bile up his throat; he swallowed hard to prevent it going further and grabbed hold of a rung. Steeling himself, he rushed to join Fillas.

* * *

Fillas ducked under another scaly limb as claws came at his head. Muscle’s aching, he dispatched three different monsters from the deep, but it wasn’t enough to stem the tide.

If Cortain is still lying on that bloody bunk, I am going to… ah, there he is.

Fillas narrowed his eyes at Cortain who emerged from below decks on the other side of the ship. The cloud cover shifted, brightening the gloom of the day.

That bloody fool hasn’t brought his swords. What part of ‘we're under attack’ didn't he understand?

Cortain fired missiles of magic into multiple creatures. The sudden savagery of this fresh onslaught caught them by surprise. Taking full advantage, Fillas renewed his own attacks, and between them, they forced the monsters to retreat back into the ocean. Chest heaving with exertion, Fillas rounded on his friend.

“Timely, aren't you?” Fillas shouted, frustrated that he'd had to fight most the battle alone.

“You're still alive, so I'd say I was just in the nick of time, actually.” Cortain grinned.

“Oh, I see you're feeling better now.” Fillas scoffed.

“Well, I was until you started shouting.” Cortain frowned. “What's going on, anyway? Why are we under attack, and where has the crew gone?”

“The crew?" Fillas gestured to the corpses left on the deck. "Well, there are a few pieces left. Did you see anyone alive below deck on your way up?”

Cortain's grin faded, and he cleared his throat. “No. But… there has to be some survivors.”

“If not, you’ll have to help me sail this ship.” Fillas sagged at the thought.

Cortain quirked an eyebrow. “Somehow I don’t think this is a two-man ship.”

Fillas gave him a flat stare. "It'll have to be if—"

A resounding crunch of wood and a shudder of the ship interrupted him. The ship lurched to one side. Fillas slid, barely keeping upright as he slammed into the railing, Cortain right beside him. He rocked just slightly over the edge to see several sea creatures still clinging to the side of the ship.

“What is that?” Cortain pointed at a large ripple that headed straight for the ship.

Fillas frowned. "Is that a fin?"

Cortain shouted as something large crashed into the hull, a crunching sound reverberating through the ship. "That's not good. We need to get off this ship. Now!"

Fillas nodded, his heart pounding as the creature backed up and rammed the ship again. He stepped back from the railing, scanning the deck for anything that might help. "The rowboat!" he said. "While that thing is taking down this ship, we can escape in that."

Fillas grimaced. “You gotta be kidding me.”

But another crash ended that argument.

Both cursing, they ran toward the rowboat. Fillas worked to untangle the ropes as Cortain jumped aboard. He could feel the ship sinking; they didn’t have long.

“This is knotted!” Fillas shouted. He threw down the ropes. “I’m gonna cut it." He hacked at the ropes with his axe.

"My swords!" Cortain made a movement as if he were going to jump out of the boat.

"Not my fault, Cortain," Fillas said as he cut the final strand. "We've got to go!"

Cortain fell back on his rump as the boat plummeted, and Fillas leapt overboard into the boat as it fell into the waves below. Straightaway, tentacles reached out of the water, deadly ridged suckers seeking them out.

“Hold on!” Fillas shaped a spell around the boat and shouted a Word of Power. His spell erupted to life and propelled the little boat forwards.

Tentacles and crab-like claws tried to latch onto the boat, impeding its progress. Cortain lashed out at everything in their way with silver whips of energy. Severed limbs dropped into the boat as they burst clear.

Fillas chanced a glance behind them to find the sea had become a churning mess as the creatures devoured the dead bodies of the crew and broke the ship down further. Bouncing from wave to wave, they both clung to their seats as Fillas's spell took them to safety. But the little boat wasn’t built to withstand such punishment, and they felt it shudder as it cut through each wave.

“Slow down!” Cortain shouted. "You're going to sink this boat as well."

Fillas nodded, lowering the intensity of his spell. He then watched as the ship sank below the distant sea line, nothing left but floating timber planks.

“What were those things?” Cortain asked.

“I don’t know. I’ve heard of sea serpents and such, but nothing like that. It was a mix of creatures.”

“Do you know where we are?” Cortain asked.

Fillas shook his head. “I don’t want to risk projecting myself, either. Not while on this rickety little boat. This direction is as good as any.”

Cortain nodded and settled on the back bench, keeping a wary eye on the water behind. With Fillas’s magic guiding the ship, there wasn’t much for either of them to do besides keeping watch, both behind them for danger and ahead as they sought land.

* * *

When they finally reached an island, Fillas guided the boat to the shore. It creaked and the wood splintered as it came to a stop.

“This little boat won’t sail again,” Fillas said. "We have no food, no supplies. Just our magic."

"Could be worse." Cortain shrugged. "Might as well pull this hunk of wood further in so it's not swept out to sea, just in case we can find a way to use it."

“Fair enough.” Fillas sighed as he hopped out and helped Cortain pull the small vessel high onto the beach. He turned to survey the land, his eyes stopping on a structure in the distance. "You see that castle over there?"

Cortain smirked. “I’m not blind.”

Fillas took a deep breath. "Well, I say we go check it out."

“Well, least the mission isn't a total bust.” Cortain pointed toward the castle. "This island. That castle. It fits the description of our destination, and the captain did say we were close."

“And if we are in the right place, then what?” Fillas asked.

“Then we complete the mission.”

“What, and spend the rest of our lives here?”

“C’mon, Fillas." Cortain grinned. "We have a boat. You can just row us home.”

Fillas shook his head and started toward the castle, not waiting for Cortain. “Or, you could just master that translocation spell, and we won't need a crumbling old boat.”

“Oh, shut up and stick to your Firebane spell." Cortain jogged to catch up.

* * *

Lord Abarthe's mirrorscope was one of his greatest treasures. The old contraption used crystals and light to allow its user to see across vast distances. His prized possession was even rarer than others of its kind as it had been created with crystals that compensated for poor natural light.

He'd been searching the distant horizons for weeks, and just that morning he'd finally spotted a ship seeming to be heading his way. When it had been attacked, he'd only been able to watch in sheer frustration. The ship had been too far for him to send aid. But when a little boat had shot from the wreckage and bright flashes of light had deterred the monsters, Lord Abarthe had rekindled his hope.

That light looked like magic, and that meant that perhaps his plea for help from the orders of magic had been received and answered. At first, he'd followed the boat on its journey, excited to see it heading straight for his island. But then he'd checked once more what they'd left in their wake, dismayed to find trogs giving chase. They'd not given up their assault, despite the mages' efforts, which didn't surprise him. The unlikely alliance of monsters, the trogs as he and his men called them, were relentless. By the time the boat had landed, Lord Abarthe had fully assessed the oncoming threat.

Dashing down three flights of stairs, he sought the captain of the guard.

“Ready the Storm Patrol, we have guests on the island, on the western shore. Bring them here. There’s a wave of trogs following them, and they may soon need assistance.”

Captain Hend saluted, steel gauntlet across his chest armour. He hurried to obey.

* * *

“Do you smell that?” Fillas pulled a face. “Something’s rotten.”

Cortain walked backwards, grinning. "Maybe it's you." He was about to continue poking fun when he spotted something that turned his tone more serious. His heart skipped a beat as he pointed beyond Fillas. "We've got company."

Fillas stopped and spun. "They look like the ones that attacked the ship. I can't believe they've followed us!" He unsheathed his axe and added Firebane to his weapon, increasing the amount of damage it could inflict.

“I bet you wish you had a fire axe right about now.” Fillas smirked.

Shaking his head, Cortain conjured two ethereal, curved swords which looked exactly like those he'd left on the ship. The wraith-blades flickered to life, and he gave them a few practice swings, adjusting to their warmth and slight vibration.

“These will have to do,” he said as he loosened his stance and readied himself for the on-coming attack.

Fillas swallowed audibly, and his tone had an edge to it when he spoke. “Cortain, is it me, or does there seem like there's a lot of them?”

Cortain kept the mood light. He preferred to fight with a bit of levity on his side; it made his steps lighter and his reflexes sharper. “Yeah, that's not fair," he said, smiling as an idea came to him. "Not very sportsmanlike of them, outnumbering us like that. Hang on…”

Cortain chanted a quick spell, and coils of blue light dived into the sand. Like great serpents, they burrowed towards the sea creatures, and the sands undulated with their passing. When they reached their target, the sand bubbled and, like a great sinkhole, swallowed the first wave of monsters. The hole sealed and trapped them beneath the sand.

“That's thinned the ranks a little," Cortain said.

"Let me give it a try." Fillas closed his eyes halfway and began to glow with the Power. His eyes snapped open, glowing red, and he spoke a Word of Power. Seven flames burst to life, hovering in front of him as they formed double-headed axes. Fillas swung his own weapon overhead, chopping the air in front of him and launching the fire-axes toward the creatures who'd escaped Cortain’s spell.

The axes flew true, burning through bodies and revealing their wet, glistening insides. Attempts to fend off the fire-axes were in vain, and the pungent stench of burnt fish lingered in the coastal air. Still, there were more monsters coming ashore, more of them advancing.

Cortain narrowed his eyes at Fillas. “Show off."

"Well, you've still got time to outdo me," Fillas said.

Cortain grinned. "That I do."

With that, the two charged the enemy army.

* * *

Abarthe watched the mages in awe as they engaged the trogs. From his excellent vantage, he could see everything, and he'd concluded the two were most likely Elementals. His own Storm Patrol were already on the way to aid them. It was a good thing he'd been watching so diligently over the last several weeks.

Adjusting the angle of his mirrorscope, he scanned the sea. By his calculations, the mages would be overwhelmed by trogs in minutes if they continued to fight alone. There were too many of the creatures coming in from the sea, dozens who'd not reached the shore yet.

He checked on the progress of his sallying men, and his heart swelled with pride as he watched the Storm Patrol ride into battle. Fearless and well trained, they galloped to the beach on the last of his horses, putting their lives at risk to help strangers.

They do me proud.

Stranded on the island they called home, they were under constant siege from the trogs. They fought a war of attrition, and what remained of his forces were an elite, hardened core of soldiers. He only held back a few resilient soldiers to guard the keep.

Pressing his eye against the viewing hole of the mirrorscope, he held his breath as his men thundered into the fray.

* * *

Cortain’s ears perked up as the sound of thunder drew closer.

“You hear that?” he asked as he cut off the oblong head of a land squid. Its body thrashed as its head fell to the ground, spilling brain matter and ichor over the white sands.

“I’m a bit busy right now.” Fillas dodged a crab-like claw and then promptly dismembered the creature to which it belonged.

Another roll of thunder rumbled across the sky. “What did you eat?” Fillas grinned.

"What?" Cortain quirked an eyebrow.

"You know, the thunder? The way your stomach gets after spicy food?" Fillas sighed. "Nevermind."

“Yeah, that joke was rubbish,” Cortain said, sadness washing over him. Everything was off without the third man in their trio. “You’re scraping the bottom of the barrel on these jokes.”

"You're not much better," Fillas said.

Cortain shrugged. "I guess we're both dull without Tomean."

“Yeah," Fillas said. "I know.”

Cortain dodged a flailing tentacle with clawed suckers; an identical limb came for Fillas, who renewed his Firebane spell and chopped through the creature's middle. A high-pitched scream followed as the Firebane spread, scorching the monster.

“What horrible noises, Fillas." Cortain had already moved on to another monster as the shrill shrieking continued. "Put that thing out of its misery.”

The shriek cut off as an unfamiliar lance pierced its head, knocked it backward, and pinned it to the ground. A figure on horseback charged between Fillas and Cortain and retrieved the weapon. He pulled up on his reins and trotted the horse back toward them.

"Hope you don't mind if we pitch in," the stranger said.

Other armoured riders joined the fray. The stampede of armoured hooves crushed the smaller monsters, and those left found themselves impaled. In seconds, the newcomers cleared the sand around the two Elementals. More trogs were gathering in the distance, but they had a minute.

The man who'd speared the first monster grinned at the work of his fellows as he addressed Cortain and Fillas. “Greetings. I am Hend, Captain of the Storm Patrol.” He inclined his head toward his men. “Lord Abarthe sent us to offer the safety of the castle.” He held up a hand, and two of his men led two spare horses into the ring of protection.

Cortain shrugged. “We were going that way, anyway. Lead on,” he said as he mounted the first horse. He was soon wheeling the mount around, fleeing a fresh wave of monsters emerging from the sea, Fillas beside him and the Storm Patrol ahead and behind.

* * *

Lord Abarthe watched with satisfaction as the cavalry charge made short work of the trogs and led the mages away from the beach. He detached the viewing tube from its stand and wrapped it in a thick canvas to protect it from the elements. He then covered the metal framework before heading down to welcome the new arrivals.

* * *

They rode fast, wasting no time returning to the castle. As they approached, the gates cranked open, but when they were halfway through, they began to close again. Cortain halted inside the inner courtyard, turning to watch the gate close seconds after the last rider was through. The Storm Patrol dismounted without any fanfare and began removing their mounts' armour and then brushing them down.

“These soldiers don’t mess about,” Cortain said.

“Total efficiency,” Fillas said as he dismounted and handed off his horse.

Cortain did the same, frowning as a stable hand yanked the reins away from him, seemingly in as much of a rush as the patrol. “Or maybe they're just a rude bunch.”

Fillas shrugged his shoulders. "Can't say they're especially friendly, but they did save our arses."

“You saying we couldn’t take them, whatever they were?” Cortain asked.

Fillas didn't have time to answer. He motioned toward the central tower where a man emerged, head held high, clothes depicting wealth. “He looks like he’s in charge. Maybe we can get some answers.”

* * *

Lord Abarthe exited the keep as his men tended to the horses. They didn’t have many left to care for, so the remaining horses were more precious than gold.

He approached the newcomers, speaking in his warmest tone. “Welcome, welcome."

The two nodded but didn’t speak.

“I pray to the gods that you’re here to help us,” he said. “I watched the whole attack from my tower. I apologize I couldn’t do much to help. We’re in a bit of trouble here, ourselves.”

"I'm Cortain," one of the men said as he stepped forward to grasp Abarthe's arm. "And this is Fillas. We come to you from the Elemental Order."

“Yes," Fillas said, "we’re here to help, though I’m embarrassed to say we lost our ship.”

“Yes," Lord Abarthe said, "but you gave a good account of yourselves from what I saw. I'm only sorry it was only the two of you who escaped that dreadful attack at sea.”

Fillas frowned at the tower. “How do you know that? I don’t sense any magic in you or nearby. We are too far from where we were attacked at sea for you to have seen anything.”

“You’re right, I don’t have the gift of magic.” Abarthe smiled. “Not to any significant standard, anyway. But, magic isn’t the only way to do things. I have a powerful spyglass which lets me see over vast distances.”

Fillas raised his eyebrows. "Oh? I've never heard of such a thing. Fascinating."

"I'd be happy to show it off," Lord Abarthe said.

“I will take you up on that offer later," Fillas said, "but first, I have a question. What the bloody hell were those things that attacked us? I’ve never seen their like before.”

Abarthe nodded and motioned them toward the main entrance of the keep. “Come, we can have light refreshments in my quarters, and I’ll tell you our history.”

He led the Elementals through the castle corridors. For the first time in a long time, he was conscious of the long-gone tapestries and furniture. For the hundredth time that day, he was conscious of the silence. There had been a time when the castle was fully staffed, when people roamed the halls and maids went about their business. The castle was quickly becoming a place he barely recognized.

Abarthe welcomed the mages into his quarters and offered them a seat before serving them drinks himself. “I’m embarrassed to say, but we don't have many luxuries here. It’s water or a pot of tea, I’m afraid. We are lacking, well… pretty much everything.”

“Water is fine," Fillas said. "We can see you’ve fallen on hard times. I think it's best if you tell us what’s going on.”

Abarthe poured the water, pressing cups into their hands before sitting at the only table in the room. “Well, as you can see, we’re struggling. Our food is almost gone, even with strict rationing. You will have no doubt noticed how sparse the furniture is. I put most of the furniture and tapestries to the flame to see us through last winter.” He breathed an enormous sigh. “The island is cursed, and we’re trapped here, dying. The trogs have besieged us.”

Cortain frowned. "Those creatures, you mean?"

Lord Abarthe nodded. “We call them sea trogs. We don’t know what they are.” He wiped his face with his hands before continuing. “They’ve been plaguing us for the last two years now. They’ve sunk my ships and taken everyone onboard. Men, women, children, everyone that used to call this Island home are dead. What you see is all that remains.”

“What I don’t get is how you are all here," Cortain said. "This island doesn’t seem like it can support many people.”

“Ah, that is another tale entirely. My family built the castle centuries ago. Our line of succession has never been broken until now. Our bloodline, and the connections it has wrought, has been our bastion of strength, but now, it's all we've got. War was the family business, and we were damn good at it, boasting the largest standing mercenary army on the mainland. But the great wars have changed all that. Now we find ourselves besieged and engaged in a war of attrition against an enemy we know nothing about.”

“So, you were mercenaries?” Cortain asked.

“The best!” Abarthe replied, his heart warm with the memories of his family's former glory.

“Your men were well trained,” Fillas said. "We couldn't have asked for better assistance."

“What you see now is the very best of what's left of my men," Abarthe said. "They are the hardest battle-tested veterans I have. The rest have died defending these shores.”

“What about your armies elsewhere?" Fillas asked. "Surely you have some on the mainland?”

Abarthe shook his head. “I did, but the Great War has put an end to that. I was duped. Someone hired out the bulk of my army and then ambushed them. I still don’t have the full details. Right at the very start, I sent out all ships in different directions with orders to seek aid from whoever was willing. They were to approach everyone they could think of, including your order. No one ever came, and I lost hope. But now that you're here, maybe we will survive this after all. I had a suspicion the Elementals wouldn't forsake me.”

Cortain and Fillas shared a glance, and Abarthe could see a flash of something pass between them. Can they sense I am holding back information? Should I assure them they know all they need to know? He decided against it. If he was misreading them, saying something would invite suspicion.

“We will do what we can," Cortain said. "They sent us to help, but now we're stuck here just like you. Tell us more about these trogs.”

"Well," Abarthe said, "I'll tell, but be warned: that isn't much." He leaned forward and told them what they needed to know.

* * *

The water churned with creatures, each of them a unique mix of body parts. Their external bodies may have been hideous, but they were only vessels. The Valdragg did not have mortal bodies; instead, they existed as pure energy when in their world. In other planes of existence, they needed to cloak themselves in a body of flesh and blood, else risk true death, especially in worlds alive with magic. That deadly essence would eat away at their pure forms if they left themselves unprotected.

In a place far removed, Ornock monitored the figures by the shore via his scrying bowl. He used his gifts, as natural to him as breathing, to pierce the veil between their two worlds.

“The mindless ones grow restless.” He hissed. “Even now they test the chains of their bonds.”

A stronger, deeper voice answered. “The lesser ones are always restless," Lord Agalod said. "We have given them a taste of the mortal planes. Of course they want more. The chains will hold like they always do, Ornock, until I release them.”

Ornock bowed his head in submission. A millennia ago, he had been bound as the lesser ones were. He had broken his bonds and rose to a higher consciousness on his own, as was their way. No longer mindless, he was still a slave, but it was of his choosing.

“Two humans made it to shore from the ship," Ornock said. "I sense the arcane about them.”

“It matters little. We stick to the bargain… for now. Once the other houses are under my rule, the human world will fall. Until then, we uphold the bargain. Tell me, Ornock, does the gate still hold?”

Ornock waved his long, blue-scaled hand across the shimmering surface of his scrying bowl. The image within shifted to show a portal deep below the waves. He studied it for a second before answering.

“Yes, Lord Agalod. It’s weakened by the energies of that world, but it still stands.”

In their world, they could manifest their bodies however they liked. The Valdragg society consisted of Great Houses, each one of a separate family with unique aesthetics. The Lord of each house dictated the image worn by their underlings.

Agalod had once looked upon a deeper, darker plane of existence in his youth. The beings there captivated him, and he had moulded his people after their image. Agalod stood eight feet tall, heavily muscled, with blue scales covering his skin. His eyes burned yellow and leaked a sulphurous mist. Sharp, black horns protruded from his forehead. Along his great back, he boasted long black wings that covered him like a blanket. To the humans, he would be the visage of a demon from the world they called Hell.

The rest of his people took different variances of his form as a sign of their allegiance. The other Great Houses would wear his likeness in time, too, or they would suffer the true death.

“It will last long enough," Agalod said. "We cannot risk the gate. Monitor the two that stink of arcana. If they somehow find it, close it down. I will not risk discovery just yet.”

Ornock bowed his head. “Yes, Master.”

Agalod dismissed him with a wave of his hand and returned to thoughts of his conquest of the realms. Once he dominated his world, the humans would be next.

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

* * *

Lord Abarthe was almost embarrassed about how little information he'd been able to gather on his enemy. It seemed like nearly nothing as he laid it out before the Elementals. “With the constant attacks," he said, "we are down to the bare minimum, I'm afraid. I don't even have enough soldiers to man the walls, but so far, the trogs have only swarmed in dense concentration. If they had any sense, they would spread out to attack the length of the wall, and we wouldn’t be able to keep them out. I live every day in fear they'll realize that, run down our defences, and kill us all.”

“Don't worry, we won't let that happen,” Fillas said confidently.

“Hold on there, Fillas,” Cortain said, holding up a hand. “Have these trogs ever used magic?”

The very thought made Abarthe shudder. He shook his head. “Not that I'm aware of. I wish now that I had employed more mages. Those few I recruited were stationed with the bulk of my army, and I presume they are dead along with the rest.”

“I think we need to find out more about these trogs," Cortain said. "I for one have never heard of them and what we saw today was scary as hell.” He looked at his friend. “What do you say we go do some fishing?”

Fillas looked at his axe before replying. “This is a funny-looking fishing rod, but sure. Why not?”

Abarthe wasn't sure how to react to the two Elementals. He was impressed after watching them fight on the beach, but he hadn't expected their humour. Their confidence and spirit gave him hope, but they were still just two men. As if reading his mind, Cortain answered his unspoken question.

“This is how we are together. We work better as a team, especially when we joke around. I’m just glad Tomean isn’t here. It gives us a chance to have all the fun.”

“Tomean?” Abarthe asked.

“Yeah, he's mental. Takes everything way too seriously,” Fillas said.

“Yeah. He likes to win at everything, even having fun,” Cortain added.

“But for now," Fillas said, "we’re going to see if we can gather new information on these trogs.”

The two stood, Fillas with his weapon in hand, and dismissed themselves. Abarthe watched them leave with both admiration and a bit of skepticism. He hoped they were as good as they thought they were.

* * *

The plan was simple, and after speaking to Captain Hend, they had the backing of the Storm Patrol who were eager to spill trog guts. With everything in place, Fillas stepped through the gates alone.

It's always me that draws the short straw.

Cortain's voice sounded in Fillas's mind via their mental connection.

Fillas turned and rudely gestured up to the battlements where Cortain and the Storm Patrol were watching. Turning his attention back to the task at hand, he gathered his wits about him to ensure he didn't end up as fish food. Drawing on his magic, he built a few mental incantations and held them ready in his mind. He visualized the complex patterns of runes and their intent, readying them to be unleashed with just a Word of Power. Visualization and retention were skills learnt after many thousands of hours practicing with the teachers of the Elemental Order. Fillas moved forward, determined to catch the biggest monster that dared showed its face.

That will show Cortain. He guarded this thought from his friend.

Out of habit, he activated the Firebane spell on his axe. Of all the elements, fire sang to him the most. It reassured him as he proffered himself as bait. If the trogs wouldn’t come out on their own, he would antagonize them until they did. Then it was the simple matter of bringing one of them close to the walls where Cortain could reel it in.

But nothing was ever as simple as plans made them out to be.

As he approached the surf, a long tentacle sprouted out of the water. The end unfurled like a plant flowering to reveal a single eye in the folds of flesh. It fixated on him. The water churned and other tentacles rose from the water, each one blooming to reveal an eye until eight of them were fixated on Fillas. Near and far, heads of different shapes and sizes began to peek out from the gentle waves, the larger ones farther out where the water was deeper.

Well, at least I’ve got their attention.

He stopped about twenty feet from the water. It was likely he would need to kill some of the smaller trogs before the bigger ones lumbered to shore. Cracking his neck, he loosened his shoulders and waved his axe in a figure eight.

Less than a minute later, the first trog waded ashore. Tentacles still quivered above the water, watching him, those monsters staying beneath the surface. Using a simple slicing spell, Fillas cut the first trog down before it had touched dry sand. Bubbles erupted as more creatures broke the surface and made their way ashore.

Standing well out of range, Fillas used his double-bladed axe as a focus point. Swinging it in the sea's direction, he fanned ripples of fire energy into the rush of trogs. The spell tore through their ranks, burning and killing, and no amount of water from the sea could save them. The sea turned dark with the wash of blood and mangled corpses. But as effective as his magic was, still more emerged as if unafraid of their imminent fate.

The press of trogs grew thicker, and before long, Fillas was laying into them with the hard edges of his axe. He continued to thin the ranks of the smaller trogs. After each kill, he retreated a few steps, slowing leading them in a line to the wall. They didn’t seem to care they were being led away, or that Fillas clearly chose to go easy on them in intervals in order to encourage them to follow.

Or perhaps they don't have enough intelligence to even recognize what I'm doing…

As the smaller creatures were killed off, each kill became harder. A breeze from the sea carried the rank smell of burnt flesh. Grimacing at the stench, he hosed down the closest ones in orange flames. The charred flesh added to the putrid aroma in the air. The trogs kept coming, relentless and unaffected by the slaughter.

* * *

Cortain stood on the wall with Captain Hend and the Storm Patrol. After skimming their minds, he was more confident in them. Hard and determined, they would stop at nothing to carry the day.

Cortain’s hand moved to where his sword should have been. Days ago, he would have scoffed at the thought that he needed his swords at hand. He was a member of the Elemental Order; he didn’t need mundane weapons of metal. But he felt their loss as another battle loomed on the horizon.

“We could furnish you a blade if you wish?” Captain Hend nodded toward Cortain’s hand, resting on a bare belt.

“Thank you, Captain, but that won’t be necessary.” Cortain moved his hand, resting it instead on one of the crenels. “Though I admit, I never realised how much my swords were a part of me until I lost them.”

“The weapon extends the warrior. It's as much a part of him as an arm or leg.”

Cortain nodded. Another minute passed as they followed Fillas’s progress to the beach.

“Tell me, mage,” the captain said, “do you two know what you are doing?”

“Who said we knew what we were doing?” Cortain said with a laugh. He gestured toward the beach. “One thing I can say is, knowing Fillas, he will do something stupid to prove a point. I can tell just by the state of his mind. So, prepare your men. This won't go as planned.”

“Nothing ever does.”

Cortain shrugged. “True.”

From his place on the wall, Cortain studied the trogs' movements and how they reacted to Fillas’s spells. Those watching from the sea bothered him; it seemed to be waiting for something.

Maybe they’re testing us by sending in the smaller, less dangerous ones first.

A shift in the wind brought the pungent smell of battle to the wall. Turning his face away, Cortain coughed as the foul odour hit him, and then he forced himself to turn back, to keep watching. Fillas continued to slaughter them as he retreated to the position they'd chosen. As Fillas led the progression closer to the wall, larger trogs emerged from the sea to attack him.

The more he studied their new foe, the more Cortain believed they weren’t natural. Something was afoot, but he didn’t know what. If someone had described these creatures to him, he would have sworn they were the work of a Necromancer. But seeing them belayed that notion. They weren't stitched or melded together, as a Necromancer would have done, nor were they illusions but rather things of flesh and blood. It was as if their creator had based their design off the denizens of the deep, as if they couldn’t decide on which creature to model the trogs after and so decided to mix and match.

Cortain didn’t know what to make of them. They acted without intelligence, blindly following like creatures of simple urges. But that explanation didn't sit right with him. They were attacking Abarthe's island for a reason. Otherwise, they would have spread beyond the area and drawn more attention from the mainland.

Gripping the crumbling, weather-pitted stone of the battlements, Cortain waited until the trogs came into range of his own arts and chose a creature who shuffled with an unseemly gait. Along with its humanoid arms and legs, it had a whole host of tentacle appendages writhing along its grey, scaled back.

That will do.

Fillas had managed to lure thirty trogs near enough to the wall, and though the number was impressive, it seemed only to be small number of their total force. Cortain guessed many of them would be able to easily scale the wall, should they utilize their multiple limbs, claws, and tentacles, but he was there to see that they didn’t.

As the target he'd chosen came into range, he marked it with an ethereal sigil. A rune appeared above its head for anyone to see it.

Fillas waved his axe in the air in acknowledgement but sent nothing back. Cortain sighed and cast some nasty spells to cull the multitudes.

* * *

Fillas picked out the marked trog near the back of the throng.

It's big enough, I suppose.

Now that Fillas had led the creatures close enough to the wall, Cortain lent his magical might to the skirmish. Creatures exploded, showering the others with body parts as Cortain’s spells took effect.

While the first trogs had seemed mindless, the trogs that came after were neither slow nor weak. They possessed some cunning and attacked with surprising speed.

Let's see how you handle this.

Runes flooded his mind's eye as he spoke Words of Power. Mirrorcast was a complex illusion spell and required time. Using the lull from his friend's magical bombardment, Fillas closed his eyes for a moment, completing the incantation. A shimmer of energy settled around him, almost imperceptible to the eye. Life-sized copies of himself appeared and created a line in front of him. They lacked the capacity to think beyond a small list of commands. But they would draw the attention of the trogs, who didn't know the copies couldn't hurt them.

Acting on his will, the constructs engaged the trogs in battle. Fiery axes struck flesh but did not cause harm. The confusion was enough to allow Fillas to move amongst them, dealing death. Before long he was covered in dark blue blood. A simple tweak of his spell and his doppelgangers became likewise covered.

By the gods, this stinks!

Cortain continued to shower the trogs with magical attacks. They both could have resorted to simple bolts of energy, but as their teachers had always insisted, creativity was key to surviving battle. "Never become predictable," they said, "especially in a magical battle. Death will be your only reward."

Of all their lessons, Fillas and his friends had connected with that one the most. All three enjoyed an exciting challenge, and more often than not, battle became a competition of creativity. Fillas suspected it was one of the reasons Tomean favoured his bladed gauntlets.

Taking a step back, he surveyed the beach which resembled an abattoir. A trail of carcasses and stinking fish guts marked his short journey from the sea's edge. He had ruined the natural beauty of the beach's white sands with his work.

Wiping his brow, he watched as another of Cortain’s spells enveloped a trog in a netting of light. The thin strands tightened around it and burnt a criss-cross pattern into its scales. It dropped to its knees, screeching in pain as its flesh oozed between the holes and sloughed off. As it died, though, Fillas spotted a faint but distinct light escape its body and fade away. He rubbed his eyes and blinked a few times.

What was that?

Fillas slipped into astral vision, viewing the dying trogs with a purview that included another plane of existence. He saw something unexpected. As each trog died, a similar light left their body. They reminded him of his simulacrum; their shape was humanoid, nothing at all like the hodgepodge mix of bodies they had inhabited.

One such soul regarded him for a brief second. In that moment, Fillas was certain he'd never been in the presence of anything so foreign. The edges of its form started to degrade, though, and it fled back to the sea.

Fillas waited a moment as another trog died from Cortain's simple energy bolt.

Fillas snorted.

With the target within range, Cortain cast his seeker spell. Green, vine-like matter burst from the ground underneath the trog, quickly immobilising it. It thrashed against its bonds, snapping a few. More sprung up to coil tightly around the creature until it was helplessly bound by the magical vines. Cortain gestured in a pulling motion and his spell worked to drag the trog closer to the wall. Every struggling movement only bound the trog tighter.

Fillas finished the remaining trogs with spells of raw magic, bursting their bodies apart into a gory mess. Then, he wiped his face of blood and dispelled his Mirrorcast; all versions of himself winked out of existence.

“Mission accomplished then, Cortain,” he shouted.

A mighty roar answered him from the sea.

He spun around, shoulders sagging. “What now?”

The waters frothed a dirty blue from the mixture of trog blood and sea water.

Cortain spoke through their connection.

Rising from the depths was what he could only describe as a leviathan of the deep. Its body, which was the size of a whale, dripped water and algae as it emerged. Six powerful limbs came out of the water one by one, the tips unfurling to reveal clawed paws; the giant trog transformed from a sea monster to a land beast. As it moved forward, its feet dug furrows in the sand. Shaking its long, sinewy neck, it nosed the mess of flesh on the sand before following the grisly trail to the castle wall. It lumbered at first, as if unused to walking, but it soon gained coordination.

“By the gods, look at the size of those scales!” Fillas said.

The monstrosity gave out an eerie roar, revealing a mouth full of curved, serrated teeth.

* * *

“Ever seen one of those before, Captain?” Cortain asked.

“Not until today.”

“Can't say I'm surprised they've saved the big ones for us," Cortain said. "You got anything you can hit it with before it gets here?”

“We have a few archers numbered amongst us.”

Cortain glanced from the quiver of arrows on one soldier's back to the thing making its way toward them.

“You got anything bigger?”

“Like what?” Captain Hend asked.

“A ballista or a catapult?” He knew what the answer was before the captain shook his head. “Great, just great.” He sighed. Whatever came next was not going to be pretty.

* * *

Lord Abarthe watched from his tower. The battle was close enough that he didn't need his mirrorscope. The roar of the giant trog sent a sliver of fear through him. The presence of the new creature changed everything. Abarthe rushed to his mirrorscope, zooming in for a closer look.

“How is that even possible?”

He glanced at the heavy crossbow next to him and realised how inadequate it was. He cranked it back anyway and loaded a heavy quarrel into it. He had used it to punch its way through smaller trogs, and it would do so to something larger.

“Maybe it’s better to aim for its eyes.” He muttered to himself.

One thing was sure: if the Elementals couldn’t bring the monster down, the battle on the beach was likely his last day left on earth.

“So be it.” He growled and readied himself to fire.

* * *

Fillas looked up at Cortain who leaned over the wall above.

Cortain shrugged.

Fillas turned back to their foe. It was steadily approaching, but they still had time.

It was still out of range for Fillas. Out of the three of them, he had the worst spell casting range which meant he would have to get closer than he'd prefer. Or maybe I can stay where I am.

Drawing on his magic, he cast a light bending spell. It settled around him like a cloak. A blend of air and water elements, it would refract the surrounding light, making him virtually invisible to the mundane eye. It clung to him like a second skin as he slowly walked forward to meet the trog. Moving faster would undo the spell. The ground shook with every step of the six-legged monster.

This might be my worse idea yet.

Moving to the side, Fillas kept to the side, drifting around the creature to come up behind the trog.

Cortain can attack it from the front, and I'll come around back. Let's trap this giant between us.

* * *

Cortain watched Fillas cast his simple illusion spell. Though hidden from view, he could still feel his friend's presence on the beach below as Fillas confronted the leviathan of the deep.

Does he really think that’s gonna work?

The beast lumbered closer fixated on the wall.

“Great. It’s up to us now,” Cortain said.

“Has your friend abandoned us?” Hend leaned over the ramparts looking for the other Elemental.

“What and miss out on all the fun?" Cortain scoffed. "Not a chance. We’re too competitive for either of us to leave, in case you didn’t notice.”

Reaching into his waiting well of magic, he drew on simple fire elements and conjured a spinning ball of fire. The orb was the size of his head and hovered over his outstretched hand. With a force of will, he whipped it toward the giant trog's wedge-shaped head. His aim was true, but the trog turned away from the attack, taking the brunt on its back. Its scales flared red but absorbed the impact. Undeterred, it continued forward. Cortain swallowed hard.

Well, that's not good.

He tried again. Conjuring another spell, he weaved an additional rune into its makeup. The altered spell created a smaller but denser ball of fire. Aiming at the creature's legs, he fired. This time, as if sensing the attack, it dipped low to shield its legs; the attack hit thick scales again.

Cortain clenched his teeth as frustration bubbled up at his failure. Angry, he opened himself fully and conjured five powerful bolts of magic to bombard the monster all at once at different pressure points. The white-hot, raw energy streaked across the distance, leaving afterimages in their wakes. But the trog seemed to anticipate the attack, pressing on as if nothing could stop it.

Cortain growled, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. His efforts were all for naught. The beast was impervious to his attacks.

Time to try something a little more… sophisticated.

Chanting, he formed a complex spell, overlaying runes in his mind. Feeding it magic, he finished with a Word of Power and brought it to life. Two large, shimmering spirals erupted upward from his fingertips, taking the shape of giant winged creatures. He sagged against the wall as the wraith war birds drained him.

Attack.

The winged birds of prey danced on the wind, finding currents and rising higher still. On his command, they attacked, plunging toward the trog, their curved beaks and talons poised for ripping and tearing. He’d given his creations enough will of their own to attack effectively. As they swooped, shimmering claws flexed and then tore into the trog's head and neck. Still, the damage inflicted was minimal. Giving them free rein, they continued to swarm the monster.

“Captain, my birds won’t distract it for long. Do you have any suggestions?”

“We don't have any siege equipment that could help,” he said shaking his head, “but even if we did, they wouldn’t be pointing this way. I think there's still some black oil left. We could douse it with that and try to burn it to a cinder, but it will take some time to get it up here from the armoury.”

“Go get it," Cortain said. "I’ll hold it as long as I can. Maybe your archers can have some target practice with its head. You never know, they may get a lucky shot and blind it.”

Captain Hend nodded and ordered his second to retrieve the oil.

The trog roared in pain as scales flaked off from a war bird's attack. Enraged, the monster lunged with remarkable speed and caught one of the shimmering birds in its teeth. It tried to bite it in two, but its body was made of magic, not flesh. As if realising it couldn’t eat the bird, it shook its head and spat it into the sand. Shards of magic escaped Cortain's creation instead of blood. Weakened, his bird could not escape the trog's descending foot and was crushed under its bulk. Broken, his construct unravelled as the energy holding it dispersed. The second bird suffered a similar fate as it was plucked out of the air and dashed against the stone wall.

Fillas's voice sounded in Cortain's head.

Cortain scoffed.

Fillas laughed.

Cortain sensed Fillas was somewhere behind the trog.

He opted for a more serious response as the trog came closer to the wall.

Changing tactics, Cortain cast telekinetic spells at the boulders strewn along the base of the wall. Using his arts, he ensnared the rocks and lifted them off the ground. Spinning them on their own axis, he launched them at the trog. Propelled by his magic, they became lethal missiles.

Let’s see you avoid these.

They sped through the air, becoming a deadly blur. Again, the trog dodged the attack by snaking its neck back and forth. The boulders that found their mark did not cause any significant damage. Cortain poured even more Power into his next spell, lifting larger boulders and firing them at the dextrous giant of the deep. He only needed one direct hit in the right spot, but he missed again as it burrowed halfway into the sand, only its tough scales exposed.

“You got to be kidding me,” he said. “I think we may be in trouble.”

Captain Hend nodded to the Elemental, before addressing his men. “Ready yourselves. As soon as it rears its head, I want every bolt and arrow aimed at its eyes. Let’s show this mage what good, old steel broadheads can do, eh?”

The hardened men of the Storm Patrol nodded. Then, the monster heaved itself back upward, sand spraying in all directions.

“Fire!” He ordered.

Fifteen arrows flew and hit their mark. Hope blossomed in Cortain as the giant screamed in pain and anger; its head was bristled with arrows. But hope died when the trog raked its head back and forth along the shore, dislodging most of the arrows.

Cortain's heartbeat pounded in his ears as the monster lumbered forward. “This thing is bloody unstoppable.”

* * *

Fillas crouched as errant rocks bigger than his head smashed into the sand all around him. The giant trog showed true intelligence as it evaded every attack.

What else can we throw at this thing?

An idea sprung to mind.

“I will have to do this the hard way!”

Dropping his illusion spell, Fillas sprinted across the sand, rapidly closing the distance between them. He avoided it's powerful tail as it swished toward him, and he leapt onto its back. Using magic, he boosted his jump, landing high on the creature's back. Forming a hook of red energy, he pierced its scales, anchoring himself.

The trog bucked and tried to dislodge him. Fillas dropped his axe as he was flung about, and he cursed. The anchor spell was the only thing keeping him from flying off its back. He clung to it, hanging by one hand, willing himself to stay conscious.

With his free hand, he formed another red hook and anchored himself to the trog with both hands.

* * *

“What is he doing now?” Cortain asked as Fillas charged the trog from behind. “This won't end well. Captain, ensure none of your men hit Fillas. He has decided to make things difficult for everyone. Also, now would be a good time for that oil you mentioned.”

“My men should be here any second," Hend said, "but we can’t use it with your friend on the creature's back, not unless he wants to burn, too.”

“Bloody typical.” Cortain sighed. Shaking from fatigue, he reverted to magical strikes whilst Fillas remained tethered to the monster.

* * *

Abarthe gripped the edge of the battlements of his tower. It seemed everything the mages did was in vain; they weren't slowing the leviathan. Though he was a shrewd tactician, his skills were useless against such a beast. Captain Hend was more than capable, but they had inadequate defences.

“Having a bit of trouble?” a voice asked out of the blue.

Abarthe jumped in shock. Spinning around, he was halfway through drawing his sword, when another voice spoke.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. We’re here to help.”

His tower was suddenly crowded with the presence of three strangers. Abarthe stopped pulling his sword mid-draw but didn't re-sheath it, leaving part of the metal exposed. Two men clad in armour and a robed man with his hood up stood before him. Clearly, magic was at play.

“I take it you’re with the two down there?” Abarthe asked.

The bald, armoured man approached and leaned over the battlements, looking down at the sand.

“I normally am,” he said, smiling at Abarthe. Without another word, he hopped over the edge.

Abarthe held out a hand. “What? No!” he shouted.

He rushed to the edge, expecting to see the bloodied corpse of the man on the ground below. Instead, the man floated down in a controlled fashion.

Magic.

The voice of the other armoured man sounded from behind Abarthe. “I thought he was tired?” .

“He likes to make an entrance.” The other man lowered his hood and nodded to Abarthe. “Greetings. I’m Master Arakar. This is Janus, and the one who just jumped over your railing is Tomean. He and I come to you from the Elemental Order.”

* * *

Cortain felt a surge of power from above.

Great, what now?

Looking up, his jaw dropped at the sight. Out of nowhere, Tomean was gliding toward them with a grin plastered on his face.

“No," Cortain muttered, rubbing his eyes, wondering if he was seeing things, "that’s definitely him.”

Before his friend had touched the ground, Tomean was unleashing magic of his own. Forks of jagged lightning erupted from his outstretched fingertips, striking the trog in the chest. The bright energy rippled across its body. The smell of burning followed it, but the damage was, again, minor.

Brilliant. He lands a hit with his first spell. We’re not gonna hear the end of this.

Tomean connected to both Cortain and Fillas, their three minds linked by gossamer strands of their magic.

Fillas's tone was confused.

Tomean said.

Cortain quipped.

Tomean said,

Fillas asked.

a new voice interjected, followed by a massive surge of Power from the top of the tower.

The sheer amount of Power was greater than Cortain, Fillas, or Tomean could wield. The trog they fought froze before its head exploded without warning, plastering them all with its brain matter. Its body, twitching, crashed to the ground. Fillas dispelled his anchors, slid from its back, and staggered away.

Cortain asked.

Fillas asked.

They both sensed Tomean's nod through their link.

Fillas and Cortain said in unison.

Cortain shrugged.

Arakar said,

* * *

Cortain joined Fillas and Tomean on the bloodied beach, each grasping Tomean’s arm in a warrior’s welcome.

“So, where've you been?” Fillas asked.

Tomean grinned. “Here and there. They sent both of you on missions without me. So, I visited Werross and almost single-handedly defeated a barbarian horde.”

“A barbarian horde? In Werross? What did you stumble into?” Cortain shook his head.

Tomean took a breath, as if he was about to begin a long story.

Fillas held up a hand before he could start. “Sounds like a good tale, but we’ve got some incoming trogs to sort out.”

Tomean spoke a Word of Power, and two glowing blue claws materialised around his metal gauntlets, extending their reach and adding their ability to deal damage. Cortain conjured two glowing swords, one in each hand. Tomean raised an eyebrow to his friend but remained quiet.

“I’ll tell you later.” Cortain sighed.

Fillas hefted his axe, having retrieved it after Master Arakar had slew the beast. The three charged toward the water to meet the next wave of trogs head on.

* * *

“Now what?” Abarthe asked.

Arakar pointed toward the sea. “Now they deal with that.”

Abarthe tilted the angle of his mirrorscope to see where the master mage pointed. “By the gods,” he said. “There’s so many.”

“Will they need any help?” Janus asked.

“I should think not.” Arakar turned to address Lord Abarthe. “Once we’ve dealt with the threat here, I will be happy to help you in any way I can. I see you’ve had some trying times.”

Abarthe bowed his head in thanks. “Once we’re finished, if you can assist us to the mainland, we would be in your debt. I need to find out what's left of my legacy.”

Arakar nodded and turned his attention back to his students. The three were unstoppable when they were together, and they were making quick work of the new wave of trogs.

“Tell me, Lord Abarthe," Arakar said, "what are these things?”

“We call them sea trogs—”

“—no, tell me with your mind,” Arakar said.

Abarthe felt a tickling sensation in his mind. At the master’s words, he remembered in vivid detail the first day the trogs had shown themselves. All the memories of the time between then and the present flashed through his head quickly. He leaned against the wall to steady himself.

“Thank you,” Arakar said, and with that, the pressure disappeared from Abarthe's head. “A curious thing, these trogs.”

Abarthe nodded and suddenly felt the need to watch the fight. Using his mirrorscope, he became engrossed in the battle.

* * *

After absorbing the lord’s memories concerning the trogs, Arakar glamoured the man to focus on the fight below. The distraction of that would allow his mind to settle after Arakar’s tinkerings.

The creatures Abarthe called trogs interested Arakar. In all his years, he had never heard of them. He glanced down at the courtyard to where the captured trog was bound, thrashing. Sending calming thoughts, he tried to soothe it, but his attempts did nothing. Frowning, he tried again, but the beast still struggled.

Reaching out, Arakar tested the weavings of magic Cortain had used to bind the beast and strengthened them with ribbons of energy which coiled tightly around the trog and shored up the weakened areas of Cortain’s spell. Satisfied, he turned back to the beach.

Watching the three young Elementals fight brought a small smile to his lips. He was proud as they combined steel and magic to fight army of trogs.

* * *

The three Elementals stood undefeated on the bloody beach. Fillas cleaned his axe as best he could in the lapping waves. Tomean opted to leave clumps of flesh hanging from his twin gauntlets. The fight had been brutal, but these Trogs were not as impervious to their magic as the leviathan had been, and the battle was done.

“See, Cortain, I told you the master could translocate on his own!” Cortain punched Fillas in the arm as they walked.

Fillas glared back in silence. “So, you’re telling me you channelled the elements and broke a Congorian Army at Werross?”

Tomean nodded.

“In all seriousness, that's impressive,” Cortain said, “but don’t lord it over us. We’ll catch up. Won’t we Fillas?”

The three friends laughed.

“Come on, let's go see this trog you two captured,” Tomean said as they followed the wall to the castle gates. Once inside, they made their way to the courtyard.

Fillas pointed to ahead. “It looks like the Master wants a look, too.”

Master Arakar, Janus, and Lord Abarthe stood around the captive trog.

“Fillas, we need to tell the master about what we saw,” Cortain said.

* * *

Arakar left the top of the tower and made his way to the courtyard, leaving Janus and Lord Abarthe to follow. Though he had never been in the castle before, his feet knew which path to take to lead him to the captured trog. Once outside, he approached it. Its body was thickset, covered in grey scales thick enough to act as armour, and had tentacles accompanying its arms and legs.

Arakar sent tendrils of his mind to investigate what lay under the amphibian-turned-humanoid exterior. What he saw and felt did not tally up. There was no resistance to his mental touch; however, the mind within was far from weak. Its exotic energies were not of this plane. Sensing his students approaching, he withdrew from the trog's mind.

“Well done,” he said. “You’ve come a long way since the first testing.” He noted how they smiled at his praise. “But you still have a long way to go before you’re ready to become masters.”

His words wiped the prideful grins from their faces.

“We will speak more about your futures later. For now, we have this strange business to finish. Before I begin, is there anything I need to know about these trogs?”

Fillas and Cortain exchanged looks. At a nod from Cortain, Fillas spoke. “We don’t know what is going on, but I have some ideas.”.

“Go on…” Arakar folded his hands patiently and waited.

“Well, whatever they are, their bodies aren’t naturally evolved. That seems obvious enough.” Fillas took a deep breath before continuing. “At first we thought maybe they were the creations of a group of Necromancers, but we didn't sense any dark magic”

Arakar nodded at the summary. He had sensed nothing from that strand of magic, either.

“Some of them have acted no better than mindless beasts,” Fillas continued. “But others, like that big one, showed signs of intelligence in how it anticipated and evaded our attacks. I felt it was more than an animal's cunning. Further, I saw some sort of spirit leaving the bodies of creatures as they died. Cortain has seen it too. In the astral plane, the trog spirit's shape is nothing like its physical form. It makes me think the body is just a vessel.”

“But you could say the same about humanity," Arakar said. "Are our bodies not simply our vessels?”

“They are, Master. But I felt as if these amalgamations of flesh and blood were not their natural bodies." Fillas shrugged. "It was just an intuition. I have no way of proving it.”

The words sparked an idea, and Arakar turned back to the captured trog. He viewed it as it was on the astral plane. Then, he looked deeper still, cycling through the layers of the world around them. He superimposed every layer onto its physical form.

What he saw was beautiful. He had read about these creatures but never encountered one. Wherever life existed, there were different planes of reality, each realm with its own rules. He suspected the trog was from one such place, far removed from their world. It seemed the entity's true form consisted of raw energy.

They have to be coming into our plane from somewhere.

Casting his awareness from his body, he searched the ocean around the island. Amongst the natural currents of the sea, exotic energies stood out to him. A violet trail of light led into the deep. He followed it downward until he sensed a concentration of energy that did not belong to his world. A shoal of trogs swam around the nexus of energy. It could only be one thing: a portal into their world.

Arakar returned to his body. “It's as I suspected. We are dealing with beings not of our world.”

“Then what are they?” Cortain asked.

“It matters not." Arakar shook his head. "We will not keep this one as a plaything for study. We are not slavers. Its shell may appear lesser to your own but its spirit is not. All life is equal. We are not foul beings seeking to dominate the world as the Necromancers and Infernals strive to do. We are neutrality, the balance that keeps the world in check." He focused on one of his students. "A question Fillas, if you please, though I suspect I know the answer.”

“Yes, Master?”

“When you saw its spirit, in which direction did it flee?”

“It shocked me," Fillas said. "I didn’t see where it went.”

“The sea,” Cortain said. “They all went back into the sea.”

Arakar nodded. Turning towards the tentacled thing, he summoned magic from the world around him, drawing on its natural abundance. His eyes burned bright with Power. Arakar exerted his influence on the trog and willed it to leave its body. With his magical sight, he watched it struggle against his suggestion until it could no longer resist. Purple light emanated from the trog's scales as it shed its fleshy shell. He beheld the thing of beauty that stood before him and sensed no animosity from it, just pain and confusion and a longing to return home.

Stepping aside, he impressed peace and friendship through a mental connection, along with a nudge that indicated its home lay seaward. It floated past him toward the beach, passing through the stone of the wall like a ghost.

He tracked its progress into the waves and to the portal, before turning back to the others. The trog’s body lay on the floor, and already the smell of decomposition was strong. Bereft of its host, the fabric of its being fell into decay faster than normal.

Another by-product of not being of this world, maybe?

“Did you follow the being's trail?” Arakar asked his students. Each nodded affirmatively. “Good. You were right to deduce these trogs were not natural; they are not of our world. But they are entitled to life. Someone, or something, has left a gateway open between our world and theirs. This breach shouldn’t exist. But, as long as it does, they will continue to come through. Luck is with us at the moment. Those who have come through lack a full consciousness. We need to close that portal before any of the ‘adults’ come through. We don't know their capabilities and intentions.”

The patrol, who'd gathered on the edges of the courtyard, broke into whispers.

“What?" Lord Abarthe said. "Why would anyone leave such a gateway open?"

“That's something I would like to know," Arakar said, "but for now, we need to close it, and we need to do it soon. We will need to prepare before attempting a closure. Have you any rooms we can borrow?”

“Take your pick," Lord Abarthe. "I have an empty castle.”

“Thank you, Lord Abarthe.” Arakar nodded in respect and turned to his students. “You three follow me. We have much to prepare.”

* * *

The following day, Arakar gathered on the beach with his three students, Janus, Captain Hend, and three of the patrol. Lord Abarthe would be watching from his mirrorscope in his tower as his Storm Patrol manned the wall closest to the beach, ready to aid them if needed. The night before, they had all feasted on the remaining provisions. The gesture of faith was not lost on the Elemental Master. He had assured Lord Abarthe that he would ferry them all off the island once the gateway was closed. But if he failed to follow through, not only would he and his students most likely perish, but so would Abarthe and his remaining men.

He could feel the tension in the air. It brimmed from the unsettled minds of the island survivors. As hard as the men were, they were eager to leave the island and end their battle with the trogs. Turning his mind away from them, Arakar looked at his three students. Each had grown in power since their testing, and he hadn't seen such potential in a long time.

Each of his students had sent simulacrums into the deep to view the gate for themselves. The surrounding trenches teemed with trogs, mindlessly swimming and circling the exotic gateway.

Arakar had ventured close to the gate to study it and probe the area for defences. It was not dissimilar to the gates they utilised to translocate across the world. He was sure he could unravel its bindings and close it down, but there was only one way to find out.

But first they would deal with the trogs on this side.

“Cortain, you may begin,” Arakar said.

The key to the Elemental Order lay in the manipulation of the five elements: earth, fire, air, water and spirit. But even Arakar, a Master of the Order, was not skilled enough in the water element to use it against so many beings. Instead, they would rely on brute strength. Out of all of them, Cortain was most skilled in water manipulation, and he would take the lead. While his students dealt with the trogs Arakar would close the gates. The captain and his men would deal with anything that surfaced.

In preparation, the Storm Patrol had situated small barrels of oil around the beach. If they had to, they would fire the beachfront to give the small group the chance to retreat to the walls of the castle.

As Cortain channelled magic, Arakar slipped into his ethereal form and dived into the waters toward the gate.

* * *

“You both ready for this?” Tomean asked.

“Oh, look, Cortain," Fillas said. "He takes on one barbarian horde, and now he thinks he needs to worry for us!”

Cortain laughed. “I am the one leading the fight today. I'd say that makes it my job.”

“Yeah, well," Fillas said, "water is the weakest element.”

They all knew that wasn’t the case. Each of the elements were powerful in their own right. Blended together, they made a strong base for any magic user.

Tomean turned serious. “Let’s finish this.”

With a nod, Cortain closed his eyes and opened himself up, drawing magic into his being. Tomean and Fillas linked with him and lent him the power they'd drawn upon. The three formed a rare triad. It was common for two mages to link, but for three to do so without the aid of a cognitone was unheard of. The key was surrender.

Cortain felt the thoughts and emotions of his brothers, his family. He created golden runes in their shared consciousness, and a construct soon took shape, the Power channelling through all three of them lending the spell immense strength. He spoke a Word of Power and reached out toward the sea to begin in earnest.

At first, nothing happened, but as their mental awareness shifted, the waves churned, growing stronger with every second. With the insight provided by their Master, they felt no remorse at what they were about to do. It was not a true death for these beings, just the destruction of their vessel. Once their unnatural fusion of bodies had been dissolved, they would have less incentive to stay in a world where the very fabric of life — magic — attacked their true form. Cortain and his brothers would drive them through the portal, and Arakar would shut it behind them. The sea raged, and the shoal of bodies tightened around the gate. Soon, a vortex formed around the portal, and the trogs were caught up in it.

* * *

Calm and centred, Arakar floated before the alien gate, discerning its very makeup as currents of unknown energy coursed through it. He glimpsed a brief image of the realm beyond. The temptation to step through and explore another part of the universe was strong, but acting impulsively would likely mean his end. Still, he took in all that he could comprehend.

He would have liked time to study it, but attempts to do so might have attracted the ire of something more powerful from the other side. He felt his students' merged strength working on the sea around him, pressing the trogs closer.

Embracing his inner calm, Arakar reached out and touched the gate. A flash of pain engulfed him as he became linked to it. Strange influences exerted themselves on him, seeking to bend him to their will. Bolstering his own defences, he fought back and wrested control away from them. Surviving the first step, he shaped his magic with force of will. An errant thought skipped across the surface of his mind.

This gate is too small for that monster on the beach.

That thought raised the question of how the strange beings chose and created their forms once they'd passed through the gate. But it was a question for another time. Instead of pushing the thought aside, he acknowledged it and tucked it away.

Examining the event horizon, Arakar was nearly sure that stepping through the gate in his ethereal form would sever him from his body. Such an occurrence would no doubt kill him. Death was not the end; he and his order knew that much. But he was in no rush to find out what was beyond the veil just yet.

Arakar sensed something baffling about the portal. He found he could not form the words to describe or understand it. He grasped hold of the connection, like grasping at strings, and it hardened only to mutate and then flow away again. He turned his attention from understanding the nature of the connection to what he could understand: how to sever it.

And he was able to find the weaker spots, the spots where the strings had naturally frayed. He gathered more arcane energy into himself than his students held within their triad. He became a well of potent magic.

As the raging current shredded trogs on the outer edges of the vortex, Arakar unleashed his magic.

* * *

Agalod stirred as Ornock materialised in the form mimicking his own demonic visage. His underling bowed deeply, his snout pressed against the floor, and began to whine.

“Master, a new presence is interfering with the gateway. This one differs from the two I spoke of before. This one is more powerful.”

“How powerful?” Agalod asked.

“More so than I am,” Ornock admitted.

“Have you closed the gate down as instructed?” Agalod asked, already knowing the answer.

“No, Master. I felt it prudent to inform you first.”

Lashing out, Agalod sent ripples of pain throughout both of Ornock's forms. “Disobedience will not be tolerated!” He barked. “I will deal with this myself.”

Agalod left Ornock twitching on the ground, vanishing from his throne room to appear next to the gate. He signalled for the keeper of the chains to stand down. No more mindless ones would go through this gate. Breaching the barrier, he brought himself to the cusp of breaking through. He stopped and felt what was happening. The bright, golden form of the newcomer shone from the other side. Such power represented a threat Agalod could not ignore. He pondered his next course of action. To his shock, the other sensed him and appraised him.

Agalod connected to the newcomer.

he replied.

Agalod deliberated. He could push through and assert his dominance, but part of him urged caution. Controlling his impulses, he waited. He did not have full control of his realm yet and knew little of the one beyond the gate apart from those who had sought a pact.

he asked, ignoring the human's question.

The golden presence was different from those who had created the gateway. It assured him he'd made the right decision in holding back the full strength of his armies. He didn't have enough information.

Who has power there. Are there any powerful enough to stop me? Surely once I have the might of the houses behind me, it won't matter.

The golden presence spoke.

Agalod sensed that whoever he talked to had split their form, that it was their spirit hovering on the other side of the gate. He hadn't known humans had that capability.

Maybe they are not too dissimilar to us. But for now, I will end this on my terms.

He then sent a different message through, targeting not just the human but the other lesser ones of his kind.

With that, he severed both the gate and the chains of the lesser Valdragg still in the human world. He sensed their delight at their freedom before the link dissolved. Standing there smiling to himself, he marked the powerful human. He would not forget him, and when they met again, the stranger would know the true might of a Valdragg Lord.

* * *

The powerful presence had shocked Arakar, but he'd managed to maintain his composure. Filled with magic, he knew he was a force to be reckoned with. But what faced him, while different and alien, was also powerful. More than that, he sensed its maleficence. The creature was in no uncertain terms an enemy and a threat to his world. As they spoke, mind to mind, Arakar pushed to close the gate, barring them entry. But there was no need. As he unravelled the gate, it closed on its own, at the command of the being who had addressed him.

With the portal closed, a message flitted through, addressing the remaining trogs and unleashing them. Instantly, they attacked each other, the strong consuming the weak as they sought to free themselves from the maelstrom. They tore each other apart. But as victors emerged in each scuffle, they absorbed the remains of the other into themselves and reformed into something larger.

These newly formed trogs did not appear mindless, and once big enough, some burst beyond the destructive rings of power encircling them. Some fled, but others converged on the source of the vortex.

Arakar warned his students. He unleashed an attack on the smaller trogs within his grasp. Gone were the delicacies of spell craft. Instead, he simply tore them apart, both physically and spiritually, before returning to his body with all haste.

* * *

Cortain broke off his spell at his master's last message. He readied himself for what was to come, and from the stances of Fillas and Tomean, they did as well. But nothing could have prepared them for what emerged. Six behemoths of the sea rose like something out of a living nightmare.

Each one was three times bigger than the largest monster they'd witnessed. All six were unique nautical creatures, a combination of claws and tentacles and teeth, deadly and chaotic in appearance.

“What in the hells do we do now?” Fillas asked.

Arakar turned to them, having apparently returned. “Give me the focus.” His request carried the ring of a command. Without hesitation, all three of them opened themselves up to him, and Cortain passed control of their triad to him.

Eyes blazing with golden light, he took a step forward. Holding his hand out, a brown, gnarled staff materialised. Grounding the end into the sand, he cast multiple quake spells. The ground rumbled and spears of ancient rock impaled the soft underbellies of the monsters. Arakar didn’t stop there. Spells spilled out of him in a blur of destruction. For once, the students saw their master in action.

Through the bond of the link, Cortain could see the magic being shaped faster than he'd thought possible. And he didn't fail to notice that Arakar managed to guard his thoughts and emotions in the midst of his attack, something that surely took true control over every aspect of one's mind to accomplish.

Arakar called down a firestorm from above. Monstrous balls of fire fell in blazing trails from the darkened sky where jagged bolts of lightning crackled and struck the trogs. But he didn’t stop there. Utilising all the elements, he brought forth a storm of deadly consequences and attacked them from every angle.

As if sensing his full power and their impending doom, the giant trogs tried to flee, but Arakar didn’t let them. He cast binding spells on the ground beneath them. Hands, mimicking his own, shot out of the water and seized their legs; then the hands solidified into bedrock. Immobilised, the trogs roared as they faced his final act. Twisting strands of air, Arakar formed razors and fired them at the monsters, slicing through their toughened hides and ending their existence.

As their bodies split apart, their forms of light emerged from the steaming carcasses. Cortain held tight as Arakar drew more power from the triad and evoked a combination of spirit magic and pure energy, weaving a complex prison of blinding energy which trapped the light forms. They howled against his spell, and battered at the bars of the prison, but the traps held fast. Arakar opened a gate behind the incorporeal beings and pushed them through, sending them elsewhere. Arakar's voice spoke into the shared space of their minds.

In the space of minutes, the behemoths were dead. The beachfront was, covered in carnage, a dark stain of blood so vast, it changed the colour of the sea around the island. It would take some time to wash away the putrid remains of the otherworldly beings.

Cortain said through their link.

Arakar replied.

* * *

With minimum rest, Arakar recouped enough of his strength to keep to his word. With the survivors of the island ready to leave, he opened up a gate to the mainland. The line of people was shorter than he realised, but he read in their minds how relieved and thankful they were to be done with their harrowing years-long fight.

Once gone, he looked back on the uninhabited island and wondered about its future. Things were set in motion around the known world. Chaos was taking hold, and while there were still pockets of peace to be found, they were shrinking by the day. There were some, like the Elemental Order, who had yet to commit themselves to a side, but the pressure was mounting.

One thing the entire council of Elemental Masters had agreed upon was that there was something out there, something unknown that was pulling on all the strings. There was a pattern emerging, if they looked deeply enough, but the purpose and reasoning behind the pattern remained a mystery. The order strived to preserve peace, but the discovery of a breach between two worlds reinforced the fact that the precarious balance of the world would soon fall.

Arakar would return to the council with this additional information, but he had to tread carefully. He wasn't sure who to trust; the plot against his students was still unresolved. Someone on the council was being manipulated, or worse still, one of them was a traitor. He intended to find out who.

He stepped through the translocation gateway with the feeling that the real work was about to begin.