McKenzie re-emerged from the rooftop stairs carrying a tray which had been filled with a wide and varied selection of bottles.

“And I’m back. Are we done? I was hoping we could start some serious drinking now. I’ve never seen you drunk, Xixxy, and goddammit I’m curious. Help yourselves, ladies,” he said, as he deposited the clinking tray in the middle of the table and sat down with an empty glass and a bottle of something that literally glowed red – and seemed to be boiling.

“Is that Infernius?” Xixaxa asked.

“Dunno, I asked Revlius for the strongest drink we had and this is what he came up with. Called it Demonic Rum. Part payment for a job we did for, well, I’m assuming an actual demon. Before my time, it’s been in the cellar for - “ McKenzie paused to peer at the label “ - four hundred years, apparently, give or take. I’ll try anything once,” he said, and started to pull the cork out of the bottle.

“A rare drink indeed. It is rumoured to be brewed from the souls of the most evil sinners to be condemned to eternal torment - and the King of Hell’s own urine,” Xixaxa commented.

McKenzie put the bottle down and then wiped his hand on his jacket. “I’ll try almost anything once,” he amended, selecting a bottle of Vyrinian firewater instead, “but even I draw the line at drinking literal Devil piss.”

Leni didn’t laugh at his discomfiture – she seemed a bit on edge.

“You asked if we were finished,” Xixaxa said. “Not quite. It was not just for strategic insight or advice on rare demonic beverages that you asked me here today – and we have covered every part of the plan apart from the very end.”

McKenzie nodded. “Yeah. You’re, like, the smartest person ever, especially about, y’know - “ McKenzie snapped his fingers, and a few magical sparks burst into being, one of which ignited his drink. McKenzie shrugged and drank it anyway. “That stuff.”

Xixaxa raised her eyebrow.

“What is likely to happen when I touch the Obelisk?” McKenzie went on. “My idea is basically just to slam whatever I get out of it back into it, only on fire. I’ve even done a practice run.”

“How in the multiple planes of existence did you manage that?” Xixaxa asked.

“Easy – just went and found a bit of magical stone. Do you know that statue near the Unsheathed Dagger that hovers in the air?” McKenzie asked.

“Ah, the famous Floating Statue of Tirius the Third? One of Gavlak the Grey’s finest works of public sculpture,” Xixaxa said.

“Wait, it was you that melted that?” Leni was jolted out of her apparent study of the table to ask. “That was a big deal, the city guard is actively seeking whoever did that. There’s a reward out!”

“Um… no comment,” McKenzie replied.

“I have consulted with the Lady Heska on this matter,” Xixaxa said, brushing aside the matter of magical vandalism. “She is an expert on quintessence.”

“She is?” McKenzie asked, frowning. “She never mentioned.”

“She has, several times – what you failed to do was listen,” Xixaxa corrected him.

McKenzie sighed. “Fair cop, that does sound like me. What’d she say?”

“Whatever magical power the Obelisk contains or channels will flow into you, McKenzie. Do you remember when Heska told you about the Law of Exponential Thaumatic Requirements?”

McKenzie winced. “I think we just kinda covered the ‘I often don’t listen’ part,” he admitted.

“Even simple spells contain a hundred times more power than they actually use.” Oddly, it was Leni who answered. “The more complex the spell, the more power they need – increasingly so, as they become more complex. Imagine a curve that gets steeper and steeper as it ge-”

“Yes, Leni, I know what ‘exponential’ means, thank you,” McKenzie growled. “How the hell do you know about magical rules, anyway?”

“Everyone does, McKenzie. Magic is one of the building blocks of reality. This is basic stuff, like, I dunno, whatever basic stuff everyone knows on whatever plane of existence you come from,” Leni said.

“Whatever,” McKenzie said. “What does that mean for Obelisk blowing up activities?”

“It means that as the Obelisk is a very complex magical artifact, a very great deal of magical energy will flow into you when you touch it. You will need a release for it,” the Archmage explained.

“Well yeah, the release is that I chuck it back at the Obelisk,” McKenzie shrugged.

“This is several more orders more dangerous than the magical statue that I am sure you were not at all involved in melting,” Xixaxa clarified. “Destroying the Obelisk will require only a fraction of the power. The rest will seek an alternative release.”

“Okay, I’ll just...burn it off. Shoot it off into the sky or whatever,” McKenzie said. “Problem solved.”

Xixaxa sighed. “Remember how in approximately one year only you have already caused an immense explosion that could well have split the very earth itself asunder, and only narrowly avoided two others? In fact a very good argument could be made for three,” she said.

“Hey, only some of that is my fault, and the theatre thing was all on Fuckface, he turned up and started that, until that point it was just a nice normal fight,” McKenzie said defensively.

“Will you at least concede that you are a catalyst for significant thaumatic events that, if uncontained, would present an existential threat to life over a very wide area?” Xixaxa asked.

McKenzie paused for a moment. “I...do not know how to respond to that.”

Leni sighed. “She means you explode a lot, McKenzie,” she said.

“Oh, yeah, that is a bad habit of mine, granted,” McKenzie allowed, as he refilled his glass.

“Instead of exploding, try this,” the Archmage said – and, with her usual lack of anything resembling effort, cast a spell at him.

This one felt weird as it settled into him. Not like the anti-curse she’d primed him with all those months ago, this was something else. A bit...swirly. Green. It made a growling noise.

“Well, to be fair I do hate exploding, it’s one of my least favourite things,” McKenzie said, shaking himself to get rid of the unsettling feeling the spell had left him with. “What will it do?”

“What is needed,” the Archmage replied mysteriously. “When you find yourself with a huge amount of magic tearing at your inner being, demanding to be released into the world as a terrifyingly cataclysmic explosion – put it into that instead.”

“Smaaaart,” McKenzie said. “So it is like the anti-curse, only this will destroy the Obelisk?”

“No,” Xixaxa said. “It will not affect the Obelisk in any way – it is important that you remember that. It will safely use up any spare power you have. You will know when it is needed.”

McKenzie paused. “Okay, but seriously, will I though? It’s me,” he said.

“I’ll remind you,” Leni said, then turned to look at the Archmage. “I’ll make sure I’m there at the end.”

There was a moment of silent tension.

“You know the plan. Be sure that you are,” Xixaxa said.

“Okay,” McKenzie said, holding up the firewater and an empty glass meaningfully. “Now will you get properly drunk?”

- o O o -

Things were pretty tense in the cargo hold. Even in normal circumstances a mix of drow and elves (along with a smattering of humans) crammed into a confined space behind a concealing line of rearranged crates was never going to be a picture of co-operative felicity, but things were much more complex than that.

Some of the drow were fanatical in their hatred of elves, and still in a frame of mind to be aware of it.

Some of the drow were also fanatical in their hatred of elves, but were currently far more obsessed with The Wonderful Obelisk, which they couldn’t believe they’d actively avoided before.

Some of the drow were just plain unconscious, and to be fair weren’t contributing to the tension in their current state.

Some of the drow were not fanatical in their hatred of elves, but even though they were all in possession of their critical faculties vis-a-vis trollish statuary, still didn’t trust them. They also had very specific ideas about where the airship should be heading.

On the elven side, all of them were highly distrustful of drow. Some of them were thinking clearly, some of them were not, and some of them were also unconscious and therefore also not making things worse or better, apart from one of them who had a particularly loud and annoying snore. Almost all of them wanted nothing more than to turn the airship around, get out at the nearest port, and leave all of this behind them as Somebody Else’s Problem, like all the hard stuff in life was.

One of them was only recently an elf, and had plans of her own.

As for the smattering of non-pointy-eared people, they were equally split between thinking clearly and not, unconscious and not, but on balance they’d probably be in favour of just turning the airship around, too.

Given the wide variety of differing views and mental states, it was therefore probably not surprising that the majority of people in the cargo hold – which was nominally a safe refuge – were restrained, either with ironmongery from the drow supplies, or whatever could be found.

The faction that had been carrying out the restraining activities was – for now, at least – comprised of Briztaz and her fellows, Saliseralla, and the two thieves, who had identified themselves as Teria and Fanelle. They had established some common ground in the face of the emergency they were all facing, although certain key issues regarding the airship and which direction it should currently be going remained unresolved at this time - but were definitely the elephant in the room.

“We struck our deal on the basis that the High Assassin would be with us, elfmage,” Briztaz was saying to Saliseralla, with a great deal of fear-fuelled anger. “He is vital to our plans. Instead we find ourselves hunted by him and hiding in a cargo hold.”

“I have magically shielded this space, and we have two amulets of silence,” Saliseralla said. “We will not be easily found.”

“You are a student,” Briztaz reminded her.

“I have power enough for this task,” Saliseralla replied.

And Briztaz had to admit – this was no mere mageling. Most of the people present she had personally teleported here, without much apparent effort. But that didn’t change the situation.

“This is a ship, not a city. He will find his way here sooner rather than later,” Briztaz pointed out. “If he locates your friend before you do, then perhaps she will betray our location, and it will be even sooner.”

“Lady Elleniralla does not know where we are, and I do not know where she is,” Saliseralla shrugged. “Although I will admit I would prefer to be able to keep an eye on that one.”

“We know where she is,” Teria spoke up.

Both drow and elf turned to glare at the thieves, who looked more than a little unsure of themselves.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

“Where?” Saliseralla asked.

“In a storage closet in one of the cabins by the bridge. Don’t get mad – or even more intense and scary, drow lady – but, um, we kinda mighta drugged her and tied her up a bit? But she’s fine, honest, we didn’t want to hurt her!” Fanelle explained.

“Describe it,” Saliseralla commanded.

One hurried description and two swirls of inky blackness later, a restrained Leni was on the deck of the cargo hold.

“I’ll remove her cuffs,” Briztaz offered.

“No,” Saliseralla said. “Leave them on. I don’t trust her.”

One of the currently unrestrained elves spoke up. “Saliseralla, she’s our friend!” It was the elfmaid McKenzie knew as Squawks, but was actually called Heranalla – hunched on the floor nearby, flanked by her parents.

Saliseralla turned around. “Quiet, Heranalla. You have no idea what’s going on here.”

“You are really scaring me,” Heranalla said, looking to be on the verge of tears.

“Good, then – this is very much a situation that calls for a healthy dose of fear,” Saliseralla told her.

“Are your parents here?” Heranalla’s father asked. “They would not approve of these...misplaced heroics.”

“I imagine they probably would not,” Saliseralla shrugged. “But they are hardly in a position to interfere – and speaking about interference, yours is currently surplus to requirements.”

Heranalla’s father looked to be about to deliver a scathing response – but Saliseralla shot him such an icy glare that he went pale and subsided instantly.

“Can you wake her up?” She asked the thieves.

“Yes, but…” Teria replied.

“Out with it,” Saliseralla said.

Teria glanced at the ring she still wore – the thieves had been given the choice of keeping the rings and therefore mental autonomy – at the cost of total, on-demand honesty - or Saliseralla removing them. They’d chosen to keep them.

“You may be right not to trust her. You said the plan was to get the High Assassin to Trollheim, so he could do something to destroy this Obelisk, that he had an Appointment with it,” Teria said, pointing to Saliseralla. “And you said that your plan is now to storm this citadel on the outskirts and rescue some hostages, in return for which you would offload most everyone here and relinquish the airship.” Teria pointed to Briztaz, then pointed at Leni. “She said her plan was to get the High Assassin to the Obelisk, no matter what. Even if this happened, if he lost his mind, the only way through this would be to get him to the Obelisk.”

Saliseralla’s face went very dark. “Why am I not surprised?” She asked – who, it wasn’t apparent. “Wake her up.”

Teria nodded, and retrieved something from the part of her armbrace that pointed towards her elbow. It was a tiny bottle – she unstoppered it, held it beneath Leni’s noise for a moment, and then replaced it as she began to stir.

“Sali…” Leni said, blinking. “What are you, what’s-what’s she doing here?” Her slow recovery abruptly turned into a very quick one as she caught sight of Briztaz and tried to stand up.

“There’s been a few developments, Leni,” Saliseralla said. “Stay where you are, by the way – unless you want Briztaz to stab you or Teria to drug you again: neither of which will be your actual problem because you will be a smoking smear of charred goo on the deck if I release this into your face. Something I will derive great personal satisfaction from, by the way, so I really wouldn’t test me on this.”

Saliseralla made a claw of her right hand, and a bright blue ball of power crackled to life in the centre of it. There was a lot of gasping from the onlooking elves, and even some of the drow.

Saliseralla regarded her handiwork with a bleak smile. “Actually, please do test me on this. Give me an excuse. I’m begging you.”

“You are no mere student of the magical arts,” one of the drow said. He was one of their two mages – one was in the other camp, and was therefore tied up, drugged and wrapped in a thaumatonet at the back of the cargo hold. “Yours is uncommon power.”

Leni sighed and slumped back onto the floor in a resigned fashion. “Well, only one person in the entire world hates me that much. Hi Danandra,” she said.

“Danandra?” Briztaz asked. “What is going on here?”

“Why should I tell you?” Danandra asked her, as she used her free hand to remove one of the many magical necklaces she wore. As she did so, her hair became it’s usual fiery red, her clothes revealed themselves as her usual black robes, and her features blurred into her own. Only her glasses remained the same.

Cue more gasps.

“Because I see the last chance of rescuing my daughter slipping through my fingers and I can’t take it, elfmage, I can’t any more of this!” Briztaz admitted in another rush of honesty.

“If you truly are as powerful a mage as I think you are, then that would actually be a considerable source of comfort to us right now, as much as I am loath to admit it,” the drow mage – they’d all been issued with bits of Danandra’s jewelry – spoke up.

“Danandra of the Cloud Kingdom? The Thieves’ Guild has a file on you and the very first page is just a sheet of paper with a drawing of your face captioned ‘do not piss off this woman under any circumstances’ and, honestly, I’m getting it now,” Fanelle admitted.

“Good, then we all understand each other,” Danandra said. She allowed the crackling spell in her hand to fade away. “This...elf...is not to be trusted. She is not what she seems.”

“Danna, I am here to help,” Leni protested.

“I don’t doubt it – to help yourself get back to what you once were, or at the very least to ingratiate yourself with the trolls to save your own skin,” Danandra replied.

“No, I am here to keep McKenzie on task,” Leni told her.

“And he oh-so-mysteriously is not,” Danandra countered. “Convenient.”

“Yeah, well maybe if certain people hadn’t decided to do me over - ” Leni glared at the two thieves as she spoke – “he still would be.”

“Leni, as much as I wish it was possible to slap some sense into McKenzie, it isn’t – as you well know. Certainly makes it look like you’re playing along, though, doesn’t it – while conveniently getting possibly the only person capable of carrying out this mission exactly where the trolls want him while not in possession of whatever wits he can lay claim to.”

“Gods’ hunger, Danna, it’s not like that!” Leni shouted, going from anger to desperation. “Why won’t you believe me?”

“Oh I wonder what possible reason I could have to not trust you,” Danandra replied. “And you do not get to call me Danna. That’s for people I like.”

“I’m just following the Archmage’s orders,” Leni said. “I didn’t like it but so far this has played out exactly as she said it would – which you would know if you hadn’t thrown a strop and decided not to help.”

“And yet here I am – once again having to deal with your bullshit. Why couldn’t you have just died?” Danandra asked venomously.

“I did,” Leni said. “Violentia is gone. Just a bunch of bad memories – and I’m trying to make up for what she did.”

“No, Leni, you do not get to do that. You do not get a blank slate to go with the pretty face you’re wearing now!” Danandra snapped back.

“Erm...could you maybe possibly not do this now? The High Assassin has gone crazy and is stalking the gangways of this ship looking for us, and I really don’t think that’s being given enough attention,” Fanelle interjected.

“The fact that we have a traitor in our midst is not being given enough attention,” Danandra replied icily.

“Then place one of your protective amulets on her and question her,” Briztaz suggested. “I tire of this pointless bickering, elfmage.”

Danandra blinked, and turned a deeply annoyed look on Briztaz.

“You’re welcome,” the dark elf told her sarcastically.

Danandra gave vent to a feral sound of pure anger, but pulled off one of her many rings and tossed it to Leni. “Put this on.”

“I’m not affected by the influence, Dananda,” Leni said. “I don’t need this.”

“Put it on or die,” Danandra told her flatly.

“You’re also not in a position to kill me,” Leni reminded her.

“You can either put that on, or I’ll teleport you exactly one yard to the other side of that bulkhead and let gravity decide if it wants to respect the boundaries of the Archmage’s magic,” Danandra told her in a matter-of-fact manner.

“It makes you tell the truth,” Briztaz told Leni. “Please, for darkness’ sake, just put the fucking thing on so we can get past this. Trollheim draws near and we must form a plan.”

Leni slid the ring onto her finger.

“Wise choice,” Danandra said. “Why are you here?”

“I’m here to help McKenzie destroy the Obelisk that is the source of the trollish influence,” Leni answered.

“Nonsense. You’re here to betray us,” Danandra insisted.

“No!” Leni insisted. “The Obelisk must be destroyed and I am here to do that.”

“So you no longer have to worry about trollish vermin hunting you down to make a meal of you, no doubt,” Danandra said. “And – of course – you’re willing to sacrifice McKenzie to do that. Just get him to the Obelisk and leave him to it, and suddenly everyone is your ally in keeping you out of a troll’s stomach.”

“No, I swore to stay with him to the end and I will,” Leni replied. “Even if it means my death, Danandra.”

Danandra blinked. “Why would you promise such a thing?”

Leni levered herself to her feet.

“I’m so fucking tired,” she said. “What is the point of me if I can’t set things right? Everyone I know hates me. Everyone. I hate myself. Know what, Danandra, I started off doing this for you. If I could please Her Majesty the fucking ice queen of grudges, I thought, then maybe there’s hope other people can forgive me. But fuck you, I’m doing this for myself now,” Leni explained forcefully, bashing herself over her heart with her manacled wrists. Danandra drew in her breath angrily to make an angry reply, but Leni went on.

“If I do this and it works, I will forgive myself. And then I can do what I want. I will give myself a blank slate, and then you and McKenzie can take your shitty attitudes and go and stick them up whichever of your uptight asses you can make them fit in,” she snarled. “And if I get killed, fuck it. At least I won’t have to deal with you any more.”

Danandra just glared. Leni glared back.

“Remove her restraints,” Danandra said eventually.

“Um, is that wise?” Fanelle asked.

“What, these restraints?” Leni asked – then, with a wince of pain and a grunt of effort, twisted her arms until the irons snapped in two. A few drops of blood dripped to the deck from where the metal had cut into her during this process, but she was otherwise unharmed. “Now, someone bring me up to speed on what the fuck is going on so I can go find McKenzie and prove to this bitch that I can slap some sense into him, because I hit really, really fucking hard.”

Everyone gasped at that – Danandra most of all.

- o O o -

“Still no sign of anyone, babes,” Shaveen told McKenzie. “If they’re hiding, they’re hiding well.”

They were stood at the fore rail of the promenade deck, along with a sizeable crowd. Once she’d regained consciousness, he’d put her in charge of search and rescue – not that there were many people to search for and rescue.

Most of the passengers were already standing here, looking at the same thing McKenzie was – the Obelisk was visible on the horizon, a straight, dark rod in the distance, beckoning them all onwards. The few drow they’d found just did the same – once McKenzie had taken care of their bracelets. The only people not on the promenade deck staring longingly at the Obelisk, in fact, were the drow tasked with keeping the airship on course: which they now did from the bridge, so they could look at the Obelisk.

The remainder of the passengers and crew were nowhere to be found, and McKenzie wasn’t able to persuade anyone except Shaveen to tear themselves away from the wonderful, beautiful sight of the Obelisk to go and look.

“Don’t worry,” McKenzie said, as she nestled in against him to stare at the Obelisk. “I’ve got a fallback plan.”

“You should stay ‘ere,” Shaveen told him. “We’re going where we need to be going, but the drow could try and interfere, and there’s a whole lot of potential hostages on this deck. You need to protect them – I’ll keep on looking for the others.”

“Yeah, I’m not going anywhere. This is more of what you might call a side channel,” McKenzie told her.

He dug out his phone and sent a text: Buzz I can’t find Leni. Can’t remember why I’m here. Don’t know what the hell is going on, it’s all fading. You gotta help me find her!

Shaveen watched curiously. “What the hell is that thing? And what the hell is that language! That’s like nuffin’ I’ve ever seen before.”

“In this particular setting, this is best thought of as a magical device,” McKenzie explained. “As for the language, that is called ‘english’.”

“Hmm – looks proper weird. Will it show us where everyone’s got to?” Shaveen asked.

“Hopefully, yeah,” McKenzie nodded. “Might have to wait for a bit, though. This tends to either work straight away, or not at all. That’s not all it does, though: smile and look at the little circle at the top.”

He turned them both around, switched to the front camera, and took a selfie of them together with the Obelisk in the background. Shaveen made the same impressed noises that people here normally did.

“We’ll be there soon,” he said, wistfully, turning back to look at it.

Shaveen disengaged herself from him. “I’m going to go and keep looking,” she said.

“You don’t have to,” McKenzie told her.

“Just one more look,” she said. “We’ll be there soon anyway, like you say.”

McKenzie smiled. “If you must – but be careful, okay? In fact, look, I should come wi-”

Shaveen put her hand on his chest. “I’m a big girl, McKenzie, I don’t need a man to look after me.”

“Fair enough,” McKenzie allowed, and held his hands up in mock surrender. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

Shaveen turned and smiled before she left. “Oh, definitely.”