Damien joined his master on the wall surrounding the navy fort. Dawn had come and gone not long ago. The archmage stood silent in the cool morning breeze, her blood-red robes swirling around her, her gaze traveling over the ocean. She made no comment when he moved to stand beside her. Damien closed his eyes and breathed deep, enjoying the salt air and the crash of waves on the breakers. He’d slept well. His thin cot left much to be desired, but a little conjuring had taken care of it.

“Shall we head out, Master?”

She turned to face.The circles under her eyes looked dark than usual this morning. Had she gotten any sleep?

“I suppose we should. Are you ready, Damien?”

“I believe so, Master. All I’m supposed to do is stand beside you and watch for potential attacks, right?”

“Yes, but just because the job is simple doesn’t make it easy. The histories say imperial sorcerers were known for their subtle conjuring.”

“Perhaps Mistress Sasha should join us. Three pairs of eyes are better than two.”

“I considered that, but I don’t want to risk three of the kingdom’s most powerful sorcerers at once. If, heaven forbid, something happens to us, the king will need all his high sorcerers to help deal with the empire. No, it’s just you and me, Damien.”

He smiled and patted her back. “We’ll be enough, Master. I’ll bring you back to Lane safe and sound, never fear.”

The archmage laughed and Damien feared he had offended her. “My daughter said you were an odd combination of sweet and tough. I begin to understand what she meant. Enough lollygagging.”

The archmage conjured her eagle in front of the wall and leapt onto its back. They flew west together at a good clip. Lookout Island waited about two hundred miles off the coast and they reached it an hour later with no difficulties. The island was fair sized, but not huge. A wooden fort surrounded by a log palisade had been built on the north edge. A dock jutted out into the ocean for supply ships. Damien and his master landed there.

Her eagle had barely vanished when a wild-haired man in his sixties burst from the gate of the fort and strode toward them. He wore ragged canvas pants and a torn, gray tunic. He waved as he approached like they couldn’t see him otherwise. Damien saw no soul force, which meant the man was a sorcerer. That shouldn’t have surprised Damien. It seemed sorcerers ran the gamut from “a little off” to “complete nut.” This guy looked like the nut had struck him on the head.

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“Lidia, what took you so long? Damn ships show no sign of changing course. What are we gong to do?”

“Isaac, relax. My apprentice and I are flying out there just as soon as we get a first-hand account of what we’re dealing with.”

Isaac turned intense blue eyes on Damien. “And who might you be?”

“Damien St. Cloud, sir.” Damien bowed to the eccentric sorcerer.

“The demon slayer? My apprentice mentioned you. I believe you were yearmates.”

Damien winced at the demon slayer announcement. Even out here they knew about that? “You’re Jaden’s mentor?”

“That’s right. He’s the one that first spotted the ships. Come on, you two have a lot to talk about and we can have something to drink.” Master Isaac spun and marched back the way he’d come.

Damien glanced at his master. “How long has he been on this island?”

The archmage fought a smile and lost. “Isaac’s been here close to forty years. He’s never returned to the mainland since he was first posted.”

“That explains it.”

The interior of the fort was basic, but comfortable. Each person had a cot and footlocker except one hammock, and Damien had a fair idea who that belonged to. The warlords stood at attention when the archmage entered and fled the moment she dismissed them. Jaden sat by himself at the long, rough-hewn table, looking for all the world like he wished he could escape with the warlords.

“Hey, how’s island life agreeing with you?” Damien asked.

Jaden managed a weak smile. “It was great until those ships showed up. It’s been crazy ever since.”

“Hopefully the archmage can straighten everything out and you’ll be free of us. Don’t worry, she doesn’t bite.”

The archmage sat facing a faintly trembling Jaden. “Tell me about the ships.”

“There’s four of them, each with three masts. Each has a ballista mounted in the front. I didn’t get close enough to make out any details. As far as I can tell their course hasn’t veered more than a few degrees since we first spotted them.”

“How about sorcerers or warlords?”

“No, ma’am, but like I said I didn’t get that close.”

“What about flags or heraldry?”

Jaden frowned. “The lead ship had a pennant flapping from its highest mast. It was red, with crossed spears or pikes maybe.”

The archmage nodded. “Thank you.”

She got up and headed for the door leaving Jaden slumped in his chair. Damien grinned and waved to his nervous friend before following his master out of the fort. She stopped on the dock and tapped her toe.

“That wasn’t especially informative,” he said.

“In one sense it was.” Her toe stopped. “I studied a book of Old Empire heraldry before we left. What he described resembles no known imperial design. At least none in our records.”

“Well, those records are almost five hundred years old. I imagine all sorts of things might have changed in that much time.”

“Exactly. I had hoped to gain some hint of who we were dealing with, but it seems we’re going in blind.”