Chapter: 1

Petor let out a shuddering breath, the cracking burning sensation no longer tore through his mana channels.

Not how I thought Yasseen would greet me. His relief turned to wariness. He hadn’t been turned over to a lifetime of penance—yet.

He rubbed his chest, wearing simple clothes, his armor and the arrow that had ended his life were gone. And no medallion.

The light of a campfire flickered, he rose studying the place. Beyond the flame’s light, fog twisted and danced, leaving hazy impressions of what might be trees.

His eyes turned upwards, not a single star lay in the sky.

No food, no water, no weapons or gear. “And no fucking idea where I am. Doesn’t look like the afterlife.” His mouth twisted in distaste. “Though our esteemed goddess could have been lying about that too. Like she did everything else.”

“No!” A woman raged at the heavens, rising from the ground she reached for a weapon that wasn’t there and stumbled forwards, realizing her new surroundings.

She reached toward the campfire and stilled. Her eyes darted around as she lifted her other hand from her stomach. She wore form-fitting clothes. A frown spread across her face as she rose to her feet. She opened her mouth to talk to him.

Her hair was raven black, purple pupils faded into black. Her face held a severe beauty to it, of a person of focus.

“--oing to kill--” Another woman flopped to her side, catching herself before she landed in the dirt.

The twisted smile on her lips turning pensive as her eyes, filled with a ghostly smoke, flicked between the raven haired woman and Petor.

She rose, pressing a hand to her stomach, tilting back her tri-corn captain’s hat.

She wore loose-fitting sailor gear, filled out by her curves, her hair a shock of red pulled back into a ponytail under a wide-brimmed hat. “Well this is not what I was expecting this morning.”

An armored man grunted as he caught himself on the ground. He got his knees under himself and looked up at them.

His eyes were the color of lava, his armor was dented and scarred, lines and runes carved into it glowing with the same power.

“What the fuck is happening?” Petor asked.

The man rose from the ground, a full head taller than Petor and nearly twice as wide.

“I think I died.” He scanned the area around them.

The glow faded from his armor. Petor squinted, seeing through the armor. Not wearing—he is the armor. Well apparently, I’m dead too, this fucking day I swear.

“I have to agree,” the black haired woman said. “Though I do not adhere to a religion or a god.”

“Well, I shouldn’t be dead. I fixed that awhile ago,” the sailor woman said. “I’m Mya Asmani. And I still don’t have your names?”

“I’m pretty sure my old goddess wasn’t going to let me go. I’m Petor--” Paladin-in-training no more. He cut off his usual address bitterly.

“I killed my god, I’m Valter.”

Silence spread as they all looked at the armored man.

“Well, yeah that wins,” the red head said.

“Desari…Haker.” The black haired woman muttered her last name, while watching the others for their reaction.

“Where the hell are we?” Petor asked.

“Once a soul reaches the Celestial Plane they are drawn into their pledged Celestial Realm or picked between gods,” Desari said. “This must be a Plane between.”

“There are other planes?” Petor asked.

“To every world, there are at least seven Planes. The Mortal Plane its mirror, the Abyssal Plane, then the adjacent Earth, Water, Air, and Fire Planes and finally the Celestial Plane, where gods create Celestial Realms.” Desari’s words trailed off, focused on something behind him.

Petor followed her gaze. A red line cut through the darkness, spreading down and around, creating an archway.

“The hells?” Valter muttered. “I can’t summon my gear.”

“Not even a pinch of powder,” Mya turned her pockets inside out.

“I don’t have my storage device and all the gear I was wearing was taken,” Petor turned his head, while keeping his eyes on the forming archway.

“If we are in the Celestial Plane, we are but souls. The only power we have is that of our own souls,” Desari said.

Magic, actual freaking magic spiraled around her hand in purple lettering.

Mya balled her fists, looked at them both and sighed. “Ah fuck this.”

Petor grunted. “Well at least we have pants.”

Valter started glowing again like the goddesses own statue.

A mage, a pirate and set of armor and a veteran walk into the Celestial Plane. There’s a punchline somewhere in there.

Twin mounts pierced the red-lined inky darkness. They were larger than most horses, armored hides of midnight black and stone gray, with yellow eyes of captured lightning. They snorted heat as they plodded forward, pulling a carriage. Lamps at the four corners illuminated its black wood, purple paint, and gold filigree. Matching crates covered the roof and back of the carriage. Warm light spilled through the windows.

The portal closed as the carriage came to a halt. The door opened, stairs unfolding to the ground.

A humanoid stepped onto the stairs, pointed ears sticking out of either side of his top hat. A monocle highlighted his yellow eyes, identical to his mounts’. It was attached by a golden chain to the left breast of his doublet. It was a fine thing of golden stitched patterns. A cloak hung over his back, red-lined and as dark as the wood of his carriage. Black pants and boots filled out the man’s wardrobe; a fine blade hung from his hip.

“Friends!” He laughed, spreading his arms as he stepped down from the carriage, the light of the carriage back-lighting him and his impish smile. “I heard that you four were dead. Ah, it has been a rather large pain to find you and gather you all here!”

“Who the hell are you?” Mya asked.

He took off his hat in a swinging bow, his other hand countering behind him. “Interplanar trader Limos, at your service.”

He rose, his yellow eyes dancing in glee as he affixed his hat back upon his head. “It is truly an honor to meet you all.”

“What do you want and what’s going on?”

“Mya Asmani, even I have heard of the stories of the deals that you brokered. Truly a woman merchant after my own heart.” He let out a content sigh, resting a gloved hand upon his breast. “I’m looking to start a new entrepreneurial endeavor. Adventuring.” He slowly waved his hand with the word.

“You want to take up adventuring?” Petor frowned at the beasts. Anyone who could tame them should be fine to deal with most adventuring missions.

“Oh no, dear man, that is so boring. No, no, I am in need of others to go on adventures for me. I am a purveyor of many fine items, but alas, supply is always a problem. People are more keen to break rather than make.” He let out a suffering sigh and swirling hand wave. “I have need of people who can get jobs done. Rescue items from a hidden wizard’s tower. Or can protect an item from one place to another…maybe save a few people who would be indebted to myself.” He shrugged, even as his eyes shone.

“You wish for us to be your band?” Desari asked.

“Yes.” Limos smiled widely. “And I will be your interplanar merchant, purveyor of fine goods and services.”

“I’ve done enough fighting for a lifetime. I’m tired, and my family are waiting for me in Akadia,” Valter said.

“For now.” The fire danced in Limos’s eyes.

“What do you mean by that?” Valter ground out.

“Xander’s followers look to revive him, started to piece him together already. Akadia will come under his rule again, as will the Veldian kingdom. The dead do not get a say on the lives of the living.” Limos held up a finger. “But a new mortal coil…a chance to change fates to decide the future of your family and yourself—instead of tearing a god’s soul apart, one with the right motivation and strength, could kill them.”

Valter was very, very quiet and still. He crossed his arms and grunted, the glow of his armor fading.

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“So the stories were real? When one dies, they are judged by the gods and allowed entry into their lands?” Desari asked.

“Something like that. As with most things, once you see it for real, it is rarely as magnificent as what you believed it might be.” Limos never looked away from Valter. “Would you like to know the fate of your family?”

Valter clenched and released his hands, his figure wrought with tension. “Tell me.”

“Your wife and daughter reached Akadia.”

Valter’s armored shoulders dropped.

“Though its ruler is being re-assembled, and he’s…Not. Too. Happy. With you.” Each word was punctuated with a wag of his finger.

“He’s dead…shattered.”

Limos’s smile spread, sickly sweet. “We both know that what might be broken may live. No?” He looked pointedly at his armor.

He turned, almost a dancing pirouette, taking in all their visages. “Oh, to change worlds.” He waggled his fingers like an artisan limbering their hands to hold a new tool. “To kill gods.” His face turned to a smirk and a tone deeper. “To make them.”

He waved his hand, dismissing his words casually. “But we get ahead of ourselves.”

Limos held out his left hand as if weighing something. “Time is with us.” He held out his right, mirroring the left. “And against us, here in limbo. The place where souls are reformed, before they transition to the halls of the gods and goddesses. Similar to your chests, Mya.”

She peered into the darkness, studying it.

Limos slapped his hands together, holding them pressed together, as his eyes skipped to each of them. “There are several gods on your world who would trade something to acquire your soul. Though they are waiting for you to show up. Once you appear, then they will barter for your essence, your devotion, and in return, they will accept your family. Sound familiar?”

“And you offer a better deal? You, too, offer to change the fate of my family,” Valter growled.

To escape the judgment of Yasseen. Petor had devoted his life toward causes—for the kingdom, for the goddess. Such once-rousing words were dead and dry upon his tongue. He screwed up his nose at the thought.

“Yes, I do, but at least I am telling you directly. Although I wish to trade with you, I will not make you bound to my will…much too old-fashioned and barbaric to me.” Limos grimaced and waggled his fingers as if finding something displeasing upon them.

“Why us?” Mya asked.

Limos’s mouth spread to reveal his too-sharp teeth. “The law of give and take, my dear. Supply and demand, mutual benefit!” He bent his left leg behind his right in a half-seat and opened his hands, head tilting to the side and rose again, walking around them all, forcing them to follow him with their eyes.

“Each of you betrayed, each of you with vengeance in your bones!” He pumped his fist in declaration. “Each of you with a fire in your guts and the skills to use it. A man who wants to save his wife and daughter and kill the god that would kill his one living son.”

Valter’s armor creaked with his tightening fists.

Limos’s gaze snapped to Desari. “A woman who turned on her own nation for the love of one closer to her heart. That very nation now lost and hidden by the interjection of gods leaning on their vassals.”

Her eyes thinned.

“Traders betrayed by the very people they freed, by the gods who grew jealous. Their dead unable to rest.”

Mya’s eyes flashed white, turning almost skeletal; her clothes were in tatters, her hat with holes as if cut by blades and pierced by arrows, so fast that Petor swore he’d only blinked.

Petor’s hairs stood on edge, feeling the tang that came right before a fight to the death.

“A man who wished to be paladin. A man who saw the true face of the gods.” Limos walked behind a tree.

“Vengeance—”

And appeared behind Petor, making him nearly jump out of his skin.

“Against a god who laid waste to his own home. Who used war and misery to fuel her divine power.” Limos tapped his fingers on Petor’s shoulder and appeared across from the group.

“On the one hand, I can release you to the gods who will set upon your souls with endless lifetimes of pain, tearing your mana from you as soon as you gather any, nothing but mana batteries for their aims.” Limos sighed and shook his head. “Most wasteful, but…” A smile lit up his face with a gleeful edge. “On the other hand, I could return you to the Material Plane once more, but as my band.”

Mya opened her mouth and closed it.

He had them, and he knew it.

“What is the nature of the deal?” Petor asked.

Limos snapped his fingers and pointed at him, stepping forward with sure steps. “So forthright! I like a man with direction! I am glad you asked. I wish to make a trading contract with you all, that I get the first pass on rare gear that you gather. I will give you lists of jobs to complete as you see fit. As you complete missions, I will give you credit that you may use on my humble wares.”

He opened his jacket, showing all manner of vials, a dagger, and jeweled items, and then closed it with a snap. “Or you may trade them for information and transport…across the realms, the planes. To the things your heart desire.”

He clasped his hands together and looked over them. “You may accept or reject my offers. I will also offer you different jobs based on where you are.”

“And we must carry out these jobs?” Valter asked.

“You are welcome to, but I will not force you. I hope to work with you for a long time, and in business, both parties coming out happy is for the best.”

“We are dead—how will you deal with that?” Desari asked.

“Well,” Limos opened his hands without unclasping them, looking up to the sky with a shrug, “I happen to know where there are a few bodies. Might be an improvement for you.” His eyes touched upon Mya and Valter.

“All of this for the chance to buy some gear?” Petor asked.

“Each of you is powerful in your own right. With the right backer and the right motivation, I am thrilled to see what you may be able to do.”

“Why not just force a slave contract upon us?” Valter asked.

“While you might come to agree to such a thing, you would hate me until the end of days. It is in my interests to make sure that you are powerful and you aren’t pissed with me, my dear Valter.”

“What of my gear?” Mya asked.

“All soul-bound items and their contents will be returned to you.” Limos waved her off.

“Does that include my mount?” Valter asked.

“Mounts are a little harder, with regard to their size. I will return all your mounts.”

Petor caught Mya’s frown out of the corner of his eye.

“Though, they may be altered. I will give you a map that will have the local area and a location where your mounts will be waiting for you.” Limos’s head swiveled from side to side.

“These new bodies. Whose are they?” Desari asked.

“Currently, they are unused. No soul has ever inhabited them. Don’t worry—I’m not doing some demon ritual to put you in the body of an innocent.” Limos grimaced and tilted his head from side to side. “There is one small issue with the bodies you’ll get.” Limos held his fingers just apart from one another. “You see, they’re brand-new, so pushing you into them, you’ll open your mana channels and form your essence core, but you will be at the White core stage once again.” Limos shrugged.

“And my shards?” Valter asked.

“Your armor will be returned to you in a fixed state, and you’ll be as you awakened.”

“So you’ll put us in new bodies, offer us jobs, and we’ll sell our gear to you,” Petor said.

“If you complete some jobs for me, then I’ll give you what your heart desires.” Limos smiled. A purple marble cane veined black and red with golden caps twirled in his hand. “What say you?” He planted it and leaned on it with both hands.

They looked at one another. He had them all.

“I agree, though only if I can make the contract,” Desari said.

“As she said,” Mya ground out. “I hate being on this side of the deal.”

“I agree,” Petor said.

“I will not take on any jobs that will harm innocents, anything that will go against my personal code of honor,” Valter said.

Limos held up his hands. “I can live with that, dear knight. I care about the end result. How you get there is your concern.”

Desari breathed in and waved her hand. Mana flowed from her finger; runes and symbols overlaid one another to create a floating page of blue light. “You will give us bodies and our effects. You will have the first pass of any goods we wish to sell. If you do not appear within three days, we will assume you do not wish to buy them and have passed on them.”

“Agreed.” Limos inclined his head.

“You may only offer us jobs. You will not force us to take them on. If we are to complete one of your jobs, anything not otherwise stated in the job is ours to keep. You will pay us a fair and equitable amount for each job and transacted upon completion. The cost of information will remain the same price and may not be withheld.” Desari looked up.

Mya wandered over, looking at the contract and speaking in her ear.

Desari added in additional information. The duo nodded to each other and turned to Valter and Petor.

“We should swear an oath to one another.” Desari’s eyes slid over them, watching the impact.

“What you want to make an oath about?” Petor asked.

“Trust—that we will not lie, that we will not attack one another, assure our trust in one another.” Desari pushed on, talking faster. “We don’t know what we will learn, what might change in the future. The oath will allow us to remain faithful to one another and if someone isn’t, then the others will know.”

“I agree, an oath protects us all. The whole is stronger than the individual,” Valter said.

“I miss a good old haggle,” Mya grumbled.

“I…” Petor pressed his lips together, his face hardening. “I agree.”

Desari kept her relief from showing on her face, but Petor sensed it like some sixth sense.

“What do you need?” Valter asked.

“Some of your soul and some of your power. Here it is the same thing.” She formed another page from mana. “The contract will be that we will not lie or attack one another. Simple but powerful. We swear to not betray or visit harm upon one another. If we do, then might our cores be destroyed.

“There, read it over and check it.” She held her chin as if studying it.

That took more out of her than she’s willing to say. Petor might not know magic but as a lifetime soldier, he knew fatigue.

Mya made a hole with her thumb and forefinger; the space between shimmered as she looked through it at the contract. “No hidden bindings in the sides, nor woven into the fibers of the parchment. I’m almost offended.” Mya lowered her fingers.

“What’s the spell?” Petor asked.

“Lets me see through illusions and other trickery.” She handed the contract to Valter.

“Looks good to me.” Valter raised his head from studying the wording and passed it to Petor.

It outlined their agreement with one another and with Limos. Nothing appeared to be written to trap him.

“Fine by me.” Petor shrugged and handed it back.

“Limos?”

“Ah, joy.” He stepped forward, studying it through his monocle. “All looks to be correct.” Limos pressed his finger to the contract. Purple, veined in red, black, and gold, spread through the contract, solidifying it. He passed it to Desari.

She nodded to him and turned to the others. “Okay, I need you to hold a corner and infuse in some of your power. Usually we would need blood, but in our soul forms, there’s literally no other way we could make a stronger binding contract.” Desari’s finger glowed as she grabbed the contract, becoming more material.

Petor, Mya, and Valter held their corners.

“How do we put power into it?” Petor fidgeted.

“Reach into yourself.” Desari’s eyes became unfocused. “Reach for your core in your chest. That ball of compressed essence. Around it is your mana. Weave it through your channels—don’t disperse it through your body as you would when trying to enhance your body, or heal it, or connect to the nodes as you would create a spell. Just slow and steady, draw from your core.” Her veins danced with colors—green, red, blue, and white mixing—and spread down her arm. “To your finger.”

Valter’s eyes glowed as embers in a fireplace, rising in brightness; lines of magma traced through his veins into his hand.

A shimmering gray fog coiled around Mya’s arm and flickered in her eyes, her eyes becoming milky.

Petor’s green flames ignited in his eyes; a snake of green flame weaved down his arm.

Magma spread across the parchment like cracks in the earth, from where Valter held the contract. Mist left gray lines from Mya; Desari’s rainbow lines and Petor’s green flames joined the others in the middle of the parchment. The power mixed together: by blood, by soul, by contract. The page burned apart; a tether and oath a binding in four parts ran back through the paths in the contract and up their arms.

Petor couldn’t release the page as it shot up his arm and into him, joining with his core.

It dug out a part of him and stretched it in a way it was never meant to be stretched as other things connected to him.

It was like having someone tear out his heart with a piece of glass and then shove a piece of straw into it.

They grunted, holding their chests. Desari held the contract.

“Mother of a hornbacked whales uncles fucking arsehole drunk shitpan,” Mya cursed. “I need a fucking drink.” She rubbed her forehead. “Shit a fucking anchor.”

Desari had bent under the oath’s strain, raising herself slowly to be kind to her body and brain. “Soul oaths are rough.”

Valter grunted as if to say, no shit.

“Fuck.” Petor tried to quell the feeling in his chest, the wrongness.

“Very well.” Limos raised his fingers.

Petor studied the others. Guess I’m part of a band now. “So what are we going to be called?”

“Oh, that bit’s easy.” Limos grinned. “The Four Horsemen.” Limos snapped his fingers.

Darkness consumed them.

Not this shit again.