image [https://i.imgur.com/zLHoSgw.png]

Saven may have changed. Halorn may have changed. The whole world may have changed in the last seven years. But Durrin, at least, finally felt like his old self again.

Upon returning from Caradell, he spent another day shopping in Imperium’s finest markets. After spending a good portion of the silver Lord Salidar had given him, Durrin was as fully equipped as he’d been in his best days in the past. He wore a newly tailored combat outfit: a highly crafted blend of chainmail and padded leather, adorned with red silk highlights. The outfit would afford him a decent degree of protection while not overly restricting his movement.

A new sword hung from his belt. The long saber had an intricate pattern of curves etched along the blade and the hand guard. It was specifically designed to be a pyromancer’s weapon, with the curves helping to capture and channel energy. It had taken some hunting to find a capable swordsmith who wouldn’t recognize him, but at last he’d found one who had recently moved to the capital.

Durrin had traded his tattered travel cloak for a new one of the traditional pyromantic design: one side scarlet, one side sable black.

He wore the scarlet side out as he strode along an aerial dock built high above the city’s streets. An airship was tethered at the end of the dock, its crew busy making repairs to some fins on the port side.

Interesting, Durrin thought as he took in the strange ship. This was the first time he’d seen one up close. How exactly did it defy gravity to stay aloft? Looking more closely, he saw a large fire pan in the middle of the boat, directly underneath a fabric funnel leading to the giant balloon above. Did the fire pan heat the air in the balloon? He knew that hot air rose while cooler air sank. But would hot air really be enough to keep the massive vessel in the sky?

He looked over the crew. While many looked to be Hakiru by their manner of dress, the rest were a motley assortment of different nationalities. But, based on the confident way they held their weapons and moved about the ship, these were all trained warriors who knew what they were about. Salidar had chosen well.

“Hail, pyromancer!” said a small voice. Durrin looked down to see a garishly dressed snippen scurry towards him. “Are you the skilled professional we are expecting?”

He bowed. “You may call me Rendhart.”

“Ensign Twigly.” The snippen bowed with a flourish. “I’ll be serving as your interpreter.” She gestured toward a griffin swooping down for a landing on the dock. “This is our leader, Wingcaptain Bladebeak. And here comes our navigator.”

A male avir was climbing down the rope ladder, whistling as he came. He was easily the fanciest-dressed member of the whole crew, with a tailored vest and kilt made from a checkerboard green and red cloth. Durrin recognized the fabric as a textile called a tartan, from a land far to the east.

image [https://i.imgur.com/LfzQJyZ.png]

Shout-out to Kickstarter backers Doug & Melanie C. for coming up with the character of Tadgh MacLery!

The avir gave a jaunty smile and reached out a hand. “Name es Tadgh MacLery,” he said, his accent thick. “I be afraid I don’t know Lurrian tah well. Still learning Hakiru, as mattah of fact.”

Durrin stared at Tadgh’s outstretched hand, confused. Did the man want something? Money?

Tadgh rolled his eyes. “Yeh shake it.” He grabbed his hand with his other hand and gave it a firm shake. “Lahk this. Ach. Yeh westerners will neveh understand a good handshake.”

“Tadgh comes from a Dorinian clan across the First Eastern Sea,” Twigly explained. “He had developed a reputation there as one of their finest navigators, until we picked him up a year ago.”

Tadgh winked. “They kidnapped me.”

The snippen folded her furry arms over her chest. “More like, we gave you an offer you couldn’t refuse. With an emphasis on the couldn’t refuse part. But we’re wasting sunbeams. What’s the plan, Rendhart?”

Durrin looked around, making sure there was no one else on the dock besides the pirates. “We must talk discretely. This city is full of spies, many of whom are talented mancerers who could eavesdrop from afar. I assume the basics of this job have already been explained to you?”

Twigly turned and exchanged a few words with Bladebeak in Hakiru. Durrin had never studied that language—it sounded like total gibberish to his ears, completely unrelated to Lurrian, Mitrian, or any other language Durrin had studied.

Twigly turned back. “You sail with us to the city of Wherever. We kidnap the Fancy-Schmancy leader of Wherever. Sail back. Turn her over to our employer for two hundred pounds of gold. Straightforward.”

Durrin nodded, reaching into his pack and pulling out a couple of maps. “Yes, but let’s go over some details.”

“Ach,” said Tadgh, the Dorinian navigator. “Details. The demons ah always in the details.”

Demons. The conversation with Halorn from three days earlier flashed through Durrin’s mind. He resisted the urge to look over his shoulder. It was broad daylight. No demons would be out during daylight.

“First, let’s talk about our approach to the capital of Wherever,” Durrin said, spreading out a detailed map of central Elandria.

Tadgh shook his head. “No good. You’re on a cloud frigate nah, not a horse. You need a propah wind chart. Lucky for you, I came prepared.” He pulled a map out of his satchel, spreading it out on the boardwalk and laying weights on the corners. While Durrin vaguely recognized the terrain of Elandria from various landmarks, the chart was covered with an unintelligible sprawl of lines, arrows, and annotations.

“These show the wind currents over our target,” Tadgh explained, pointing out various markings. “The rest ach notes about storm conditions, weather patterns, updrafts and downdrafts, likely pressure fronts, and useful waystations.” He indicated the Rugeran Mountains, which formed the northern and western borders of central Elandria. “This range is a natural barrier. Hard ta get over. We typically stay west o south of it. But there ah some half-treacherous avenues that we can use.”

“Half-treacherous,” Durrin repeated, glancing at the Dorinian and raising an eyebrow. “Not sure I like the sound of that. I already had one brush with death in those mountains. Would it be safer to go around?”

“Sure as beatles ‘twould be,” the Dorinian said, shrugging. “But where’s the fun in that?”

Durrin stared at Tadgh for a second. Then he smiled. “You lot are my kind of sailors.”

Durrin turned back to the map, studying the route Tadgh had indicated. “The trick will be approaching the capital without being seen,” he commented. “They can’t know we’re coming.”

“We’re not too concerned about being spotted,” Twigly interjected. “Cloudships are an uncommon sight in Wherever, true, but common enough that anyone will just think us to be a merchant vessel straying off the normal trade routes. As long as our final approach to the target is kept on the down-low, we’ll have a decent shot. That’s where your expertise comes in, Rendhart.”

Durrin tapped a point on the map. “I recommend approaching the capital from due north. That way we’ll avoid the Silvermoss and Angerflood and all the major roads and settlements, and travel over some sparsely populated hill country.”

Tadgh examined the map. “The winds ah pathetic for a north approach. But if we tack and churn, we could make it work.”

Durrin had no idea what tack and churn meant, but he continued on as if he knew exactly what the Dorinian navigator was talking about. “Right. We’ll want to approach at night, circle round the palace on the east side, then come to the southernmost tower.” He pulled out a second map, this one specifically of the palace complex in Saven. “The living quarters for our target are relatively isolated in a free-standing tower on the south side. Most of the garrison is quartered at the north side, by the palace gates. If we strike quickly and silently, we can overwhelm any guards in the south wing, seize our target, and slip away.”

Twigly sucked on her paw as she stared at the map. She didn’t seem to be doing much translation anymore. “We’ll have to work out some more specific tactics, but that can be done on the flight over. What do we do once we have our target?”

“Slip away fast,” Durrin said. “Could you escape griffin pursuit at night?”

“We’ve developed some tricks,” the snippen said, waving her paw dismissively. “With cloud cover, it would be a breeze. But we could manage even without.”

“Excellent,” Durrin said. “We’ll leave a ransom note behind, setting up a time and place for one of our griffins to meet with them to discuss terms of payment.”

“But I thought we’re taking our target back here,” Twigly said.

“We are,” said Durrin. “But her people mustn’t know that. We need to make it seem like you’re acting independently, just kidnapping her so you can exchange her for a hefty price. They can’t be any the wiser until we’ve returned here and handed the target over to your employer.”

“And once she’s brought here, will she ever be returned to her people? Or is she a prisoner for life?”

“That’s up to your employer to decide,” Durrin said. The real answer sat uncomfortably in his gut. Lord Salidar had given him secret orders to ensure Queen Everborn didn’t reach any destination alive.

Twigly frowned, then turned to the griffin and exchanged a long back-and-forth with him. Then she turned back. “It seems a little cruel, to rob a kingdom of their queen and a queen of her kingdom.”

“You’re pirates,” said Durrin flatly. “Don’t you do cruel things all the time?”

Twigly brushed a speck of dirt from her scarf. “Only when occupationally necessary.”

“Well, this is occupationally necessary,” said Durrin.

Twigly nodded thoughtfully, studying the maps as she tapped absently on the stones under her paws. “That’s a long flight back here, with few favorable air currents,” she said. “What’s to say we simplify things somewhat, and just ransom her back to her own people? I’m sure they’ll pay a similar price as His Excellency, if not higher, and it saves us quite a bit of sailing.” She winked at him. “We could give you a hefty cut of the profits.”

Durrin opened his mouth, but he didn’t have a reply ready. This option had never occurred to him. From the pirates’ perspective, Twigly’s alternative was much more attractive. But not to Durrin. He wasn’t doing this for the gold. If he double-crossed Salidar, Kymar’s scroll would be forever out of his reach.

Twigly leaned forward and rapped playfully on Durrin’s knee. “I’m just kidding with you, Rendhart. We made a deal with His Excellency. And a deal’s a deal.”

Durrin studied the snippen carefully. He wasn’t sure he fully trusted her. The griffin and the navigator, at least, seemed straightforward. But this snippen—she was a little too cavalier for his liking.

Durrin shrugged the thought aside. All he needed was for the pirates to help him successfully kidnap Adara. After that, it wouldn’t matter what their plans were. His plans would take precedence.

“That sums things up.” Durrin folded up his maps. “We’ll discuss more in the air, when we’re well away from any listening ears. When will you be ready to depart?”

“This very afternoon,” said Twigly. “We’ll have the last rigging in tip-top shape within the hour, and we’re already victualed and watered.”

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So they were punctual, too—ready the exact day Salidar had asked them to be. “I’ll return shortly,” Durrin said. “I just want to check on my horse again, make sure the stable hands are taking good care of her.”

“Why leave her here?” Twigly asked. “We can take her on board with us.”

Durrin glanced between her and the cloudship’s tiny gondola, not sure how to respond to such a ludicrous proposal. “Are you sure? It’s a full-grown mare, and we have a long—”

He paused, noticing the smile trying to escape from the snippen’s mouth. “Very funny,” he finally said.

“I’m just trying to get you to laugh, Rendhart,” Twigly smirked, taking out one of her many daggers and twirling it on her paw. “It’s good for your health!”

Durrin stood and shouldered his pack. “I’m afraid professional pyromancers don’t laugh unless paid double. It’s an added service.”

* * * * *

Durrin strode back down the dock, descended a set of stairs to an alley that would lead back to the main street—and found himself face-to-face with a familiar but completely unexpected face.

“Halorn!” Durrin said, startled.

“Hello again.” Halorn had an old traveling cloak and a travel pack, but otherwise was still dressed in his simple farming garb.

“Why—”

“I didn’t tell you everything,” Halorn said quickly. “Back at Caradell. There was more I needed to say.”

Durrin glanced up at the aerial docks. How had Halorn tracked him here? He’d taken extra precautions to make sure he hadn’t been followed through the city. And how would Halorn have even found him in the first place?

“You lied the other day,” Durrin concluded. “You must still dabble in pyromancy. You used it to track me here.”

Halorn shook his head.

No pyromancer? Well, there were other ways of tracking someone. “Then you hid a tracking gem in my pack when I visited your farm.”

Again, Halorn shook his head.

Durrin was at a loss. “Then . . .”

“I used a power higher than mancery,” said Halorn. “I used the power of Light.”

It took a second for Durrin to process what Halorn was alluding to. When he did, he took a step back in alarm, summoning a crackling flame of fire.

“You’ve joined the Luminant Order,” Durrin said. “That shepherd in the mountains was more than a storyteller; she must have been an adherent of the Order that escaped the Empire’s purge. It was through the Order’s arcane powers that you tracked me down.”

Halorn’s face showed no sign of fear. “The Order is not corrupt, Durrin. We have been persecuted out of fear and jealousy, and because our allegiance is to an authority beyond Calamar’s throne.”

“You know the Luminant Order is forbidden.” Durrin increased the flame in his hand until it roared over a foot tall. “Anyone discovered to be an adherent is to be arrested and imprisoned. I could turn you in.”

“But you won’t,” said Halorn.

Durrin stared at his friend for a few seconds, his thoughts jumbled. Then he realized that Halorn was right. He relaxed his stance and let the flame in his hand die. “What do you need to tell me?” he said grudgingly.

“I didn’t give the whole truth about why I left the Guild seven years ago,” Halorn said. “Yes, I was getting disillusioned. But mainly, I left . . . because I didn’t want to become like you.”

Something twisted deep within Durrin’s heart.

“What do you mean?” Durrin whispered.

“You were my best friend,” Halorn explained. “You were my role model, my inspiration. You faced every challenge with nothing but confidence. You made the hardest pyromantic tricks look like child’s play. Every day, I thought about how much I wanted to be like you.

Halorn’s face gained a look of pain and loss. “But then the Guild changed you, Durrin. You let it change you. As you grew in skill, you naturally acquired the hardest jobs—which were inevitably the most scurrilous. I saw how you stooped to anything that would increase your power and further your career. You became a pawn of Lord Salidar, doing his dirty work with scarcely a thought about those you harmed. I saw how those tasks started to make you hard, cold, and ruthless.”

Halorn looked down at his feet. “But what scared me most was realizing I was walking that same path. You had once been a man of honor. So had I. But then you began to stoop to tasks far below your honor. So was I.”

Halorn took a deep breath. When he resumed, his voice was tight with barely constrained emotion. “I began to wonder just how far you were willing to go. And that was when you killed King Everborn.”

Durrin’s insides twisted harder.

“How did you know?” The words escaped him before he could stop them.

“First, I guessed,” said Halorn. “The timing seemed too coincidental. You disappeared without a trace. One month later, the king of Elandria was dead, supposedly killed by a tragic fire. So first I just put two and two together. But I kept my ears open. And soon I overheard—well, eavesdropped on—two guild masters speculating on whether you had been killed by Everborn’s guards.”

So his best friend knew he was a murderer. Durrin’s legs began to shake. He sunk down on a barrel, placed his hands on his knees, and stared at the cobblestones. “You knew,” he whispered. “You knew this whole time.” He looked up. “Who else knows?”

“I have no idea.” Halorn shrugged. “Many I’m sure suspected. But the guild masters were exceedingly careful to keep your mission a secret. They had to be, if they wanted their plan to succeed.”

Durrin furrowed his brow in confusion. “But it already had.”

Halorn shook his head. “That wasn’t their whole plan. Like Salidar, they wanted King Everborn assassinated, yes. But they also wanted to absolve themselves of any involvement. And, perhaps most importantly for them, they wanted you dead.”

Durrin grew chill.

Halorn continued. “I assume you haven’t heard about what happened here after you left?”

Durrin shook his head.

“Soon after you disappeared, but before King Everborn’s death, the Guild Council denounced you.”

“Denounced me?”

“They issued a declaration. It was read in the Academy and posted in several city squares. They declared that you had become dangerous and deranged, and so had been evicted from the Guild, barred from any employment, and placed under warrant of arrest. They said you had disappeared, and that they had reason to suspect you were going to attempt something crazy if not found and captured.”

Durrin stared into the shadows of the alley, letting the information sink in.

Halorn kept talking. “You were only a tool, Durrin. But you were a dangerous and ambitious tool that they needed to get rid of as soon as it had done its job. They and Lord Salidar wanted King Everborn dead—to spark a war that would further Calamar’s interests—but they wanted to obscure any evidence of their involvement.”

“So they cut all their ties with me,” Durrin realized. “It all makes sense now, Halorn. My instructions were to assassinate King Everborn in a public, showy fashion, declaring that I had been sent by Calamar.”

Halorn nodded. “I suspected as much.”

Durrin began to pace, thinking out loud. “Whether I succeeded or not, they wanted Elandria to accuse Calamar of being behind the assassination. The emperor, the vizier, and the Guild would all deny it. Denouncing me was a necessity. ‘Rendhart?’ they would say. ‘Ah, yes, look at this edict we issued. We knew he was dangerous, and we tried to capture him. We’re so sorry this happened.’”

Halorn nodded again. “Our citizens would believe the lie. Elandria’s wouldn’t. And so war would ensue, with Elandria perceived as the unjustified aggressor.”

“But instead,” Durrin said, “King Everborn’s advisors decided to hush up the assassination and pretend the king died in an accident.”

Halorn nodded. “And they were wise. It bought them four more years of unstable peace, until war finally broke out three years ago.”

Puzzle pieces from seven years ago began falling into place in Durrin’s head. “I didn’t travel to Saven alone. I went with another member of the Guild. The day I raided the palace, he was supposed to be waiting at the river with a boat, to help me slip away. But when I arrived at the docks, with pursuit hot on my tail—he was gone.”

“All part of the guild masters’ plan, most likely,” Halorn said. “They wanted Elandria to capture you and find out who sent you. And then they wanted you dead.”

Emotions ripped through Durrin. Betrayal. Anger. Hate. He summoned a flame, a thin column of intense heat that rose three feet above his hand. Then he let his hatred pour into it like oil, stoking it hotter and hotter until the core burned blue.

“They will pay,” Durrin spat. “Those cowards will pay.”

Halorn approached Durrin—carefully skirting around his incinerating inferno—and put a hand on Durrin’s shoulder. “Durrin. I didn’t tell you this so that you could get revenge.”

“Revenge?” Durrin snarled. “Or justice? They sought my life. Why should I not seek theirs?”

“Because it will destroy you.” Halorn passed a hand through Durrin’s column of fire. In an instant, the flame died. Durrin had never felt anything like it before. There was no counter spell, no competing pyromantic pull, not even the suck of voidstone. The heat and energy just . . . vanished.

Durrin sprang backward, staring in shock at his friend. “How did you do that?”

“By the same power I knew where to find you.” Halorn fixed Durrin with his intense gaze. “Now I have one more question, Durrin. What have you thought about what I shared with you? About angels and demons? About the Void? About your eternal soul?

Hatred and anger towards the men who had betrayed him still coursed through his mind. “What does that have to do with anything?” Durrin snapped.

“Everything.” Halorn placed a finger on Durrin’s chest. “You are no mere mortal, Durrin. None of us are. We are infinite beings. And you need to decide where you want to spend infinity.” Halorn pointed up at the afternoon sky. “In the Halls of the Sun?” He pointed down. “Or in the pits of the Void?”

Durrin shook his head. “That’s not—”

“Don’t you see?” Halorn cried. “Don’t you understand? You murdered a king in cold blood! You helped spark a war that has claimed tens of thousands of lives! And you think when you die that these abominable acts won’t matter?”

“I did not start this war,” Durrin said.

“Oh?” said Halorn. “What did you think you were doing, seven years ago?”

Durrin had no answer. He had told himself he had killed Everborn to defend Calamar’s interests, to give Elandria a warning, to fulfill the Emperor’s wishes. But he had never fully thought through what his act would bring upon the world. The truth was, he had done it solely so he could get his hands on Kymar’s scroll.

The silence weighed heavily in the air before Halorn continued, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “Then you better think harder this time, Durrin. Before you kill Everborn’s daughter.”

He can’t know. Durrin’s mind filled with panic. His meetings with Salidar had been completely private. Salidar always took every precaution. No one, mancerer or otherwise, could have overheard them.

“I know your orders from Salidar,” Halorn continued. “Work with the pirates to ‘kidnap’ Queen Adara. Then set their cloudship on fire and let the queen and the crew burn or fall to their deaths, while you use your pyromantic prowess to leap to safety.”

Durrin’s mind raced. There was no way Halorn could know. No mechanism by which Halorn could have overheard.

Unless . . .

Unless everything Halorn had said was true. Unless invisible angels really were witnessing Durrin’s every act, and they were the source of Halorn’s knowledge.

But if that part of Halorn’s beliefs was true, then everything else was, too.

The angels see all. Everything.

Tyranny and murder.

Act; do not wait. Seal the scroll of your fate. Deal rightly with all, or to the Void you will fall.

In an instant, Durrin’s world had tipped upside down. Everything was in pandemonium. He tried in vain to sort through the shambles, grasping at the thousands of questions coursing through him.

Finally, he settled on one. “Why did the guild masters want me dead?”

Halorn reflected for a moment. “I think it was three reasons. First was jealousy—they didn’t want you to outshine them. It would have stripped them of their power and influence.”

Durrin nodded. He had already gathered as much.

“Second, they knew you wanted something—something they couldn’t offer you.”

“Kymar’s sixth scroll,” Durrin said. “They didn’t want me to access its secrets.”

“Not exactly,” said Halorn. “They couldn’t offer it to you because they do not have it.”

“What?” What under the million stars was Halorn talking about?

“Everyone knows that Kymar Roline made only a single copy of his last scroll,” Halorn said. “Kymar forbade his acolytes from ever copying it. According to tradition, that scroll was handed down through generations of pyromantic masters, kept in the most secure vaults of the Academy, down to the present.”

“Exactly,” said Durrin.

“It’s a lie,” Halorn said. “The lore keeper told me the truth. Kymar didn’t entrust the scroll to Calamar. He entrusted it to Elandria.”

“Absurdity,” Durrin said, shaking his head. “Calamar was Kymar’s homeland. Calamar was where he founded his academy.”

“Think about it,” said Halorn. “In three hundred years, has any master of the Guild displayed the hidden powers that scroll is supposed to unlock?”

“None,” said Durrin. “But that’s because the powers are too advanced—”

Halorn held up a finger. “Advanced, yes. But not impossible. No. According to tradition, the reason Kymar made a single copy, the reason he ordered it hidden, was because he feared those secrets would make someone too powerful.”

“Then why hasn’t Elandria used these powers to win the war?”

“Because they understand what Kymar understood,” said Halorn. “Power, once placed in the wrong hands, cannot be wrested back. The scroll is kept with utmost secrecy. Only a handful of people know it even exists in their archives.”

“And do you know where it is?”

“No!” said Halorn. “I didn’t tell you this so you could seek it, Durrin. I told you so you would stop seeking it. It is out of your grasp. Unattainable.”

“Perhaps,” Durrin said, the wheels in his head already turning. He knew the layout of the palace at Saven well, including the location of its library. Perhaps, while the pirates kidnapped the queen . . .

“I know what you’re thinking,” Halorn said. “But the scroll is not in the royal palace. It’s not anywhere in Saven. I know that much. Elandria is vast. It could be anywhere within their kingdom. Give up your quest.”

Never, Durrin thought. But he did not voice it out loud. “What was the third reason you think the guild masters wanted me dead?”

Halorn looked relieved to be changing the subject. “The third reason was that you were too closely under the thumb of Salidar. While the guild masters share many of His Excellency’s foreign policies, they are keen to maintain their independence. Admitting you to their council would have given Salidar too much power over them.”

Durrin blew out a breath. “Then His Excellency, at least, is still an ally.”

Halorn shook his head. “He is no ally of yours, Durrin. He sees you only as a tool. His favor extends only as far as you are useful to him.”

“You do not know His Excellency like I do,” said Durrin.

“I know enough,” said Halorn. “I know he started a war for no reason than personal power.”

“The war is over haeber,” Durrin protested.

“There are other ways to fix the haeber shortage than going to war,” Halorn said. “Haeber is the excuse. Ambition is the reason. No, Durrin. Salidar has no one’s interests in mind except his own. Following him will only lead to pain. And following anything but this—” Halorn tapped Durrin’s chest above his heart, “—will only lead to darkness.”

Durrin’s mind was still drowning in questions. Halorn had answered one but prompted a thousand more. But before he could ask another, Halorn’s head jerked up. “Someone is coming,” he said. “I must go.”

With surprising speed, Halorn slipped farther down the alley, disappearing around a corner. Durrin stood in shock for a moment, still trying to process all that had happened in the last fifteen minutes. Too late, he reached out with his pyrosense to detect what Halorn had. Immediately he felt it—a trio of figures approaching the entrance to the alley, one of whom with a spark that felt very, very familiar.

It was too late to hide as Halorn had. Durrin turned to face the new arrivals as they reached the entrance to the alley. He bowed deeply at their leader. “Greetings, Your Excellency.”

“Rendhart,” said Lord Salidar, with a hint of surprise. “Impeccable timing. Come. Our plans have changed.”