It was early dawn, and most of the villagers of Machen hadn’t awoken to the challenges of the new day. A sense of wonder and excitement filled Ben as he made his way toward the elevator. Amycus and Meda waited near its entrance, as did Briacco and the piskies Montbretia and Robin. Even old Genos had gotten out of bed in time to bid him farewell.

The Lupari were already there. The gear that they carried towered behind their backs, a more ponderous burden now that they weren’t to engage in combat. Corin was the first to notice his approach. He waved at him and then puffed his chest, cupping his hands around his mouth.

“It looks like you’ve got company!” he bellowed. Ben smiled in relief at Corin’s cheery demeanor—the days of leisure had done wonders for him, a far cry from his bearings not three nights past. Lupari sure are resilient, Ben thought, but not for the first time.

Amycus crossed his arms and snorted as Ben closed in. “So, you finally decide to show yourself. Haven’t you heard that the early bird catches the worm?”

“Oh, leave him be, you stubborn horse. We’ve been here but for a short while ourselves,” Meda interjected. “And that’s no way to talk to the hero of the hour, am I right?”

“Hmph. Lest you forget Meda, I am one of said heroes. But all said and done, it was young Ben who delivered the fatal blow,” Amycus responded as his expression softened. “You have a centaur’s soul in you, sorcerer. A true Machen warrior through and through. I apologize again for ever doubting you.”

He offered Ben a hand, which he shook with a firm grip and a big smirk on his face. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. You saved my life from the barghest, didn’t you?”

Briacco, more effusive than his companions, hugged Ben with paternal affection. “It has been a pleasure, Master Umber. Rest assured; this is not the last we see of each other. Always remember that you are now a spirit-friend. If ever you find yourself in need, do not hesitate to return to us. A hut will remain vacant for you here, always.”

The satyr’s eyes became teary, and it took Ben a monumental effort not to cry himself. Was this what it felt like to have a home to go back to? If so, he could grow used to the feeling.

“Promise me that you’ll come back to play with us!” Robin said as she fluttered her wings around them, hovering midair. Her energetic movements reminded Ben of a hummingbird.

Ben promised the little piskie as much. Montbretia made a fuss out of appeasing her hyperactive daughter, as she had broken into a fit of wild hysterics. She thanked him between her futile efforts to do so.

Genos regarded the scene with that perpetual squint of suspicion that decorated his face. “I guess I was wrong, and it’s difficult for me to admit it. Credit where credit’s due, though. Machen owes you a great debt, and we couldn’t have done this without the help of you young’uns. Have a safe journey, Benjamin Umber, and may Fortune be with you.”

“May Fortune be with you as well, Genos. Take care of Montbretia and Robin for me, will you?” Ben replied.

“Aye. That I can do.” He answered with a twinkle in his eye.

“Time to leave, m’boy!” Murley proclaimed from the elevator as he made a gesture to join them.

Ben nodded, said his last goodbyes, and stepped into the rickety death-trap. Curiously enough, he wasn’t afraid of it anymore. He turned back for a final glimpse, savoring the sight of the sun-kissed meadow and the ancient trees surrounding him. The friends he had made beckoned their farewells as Amycus trotted to the watchtower and pulled the lift lever, commencing their descent.

Renewed resolve burned in him. He turned around as they went out of sight and observed the wide expanse of the Blackwoods. The forest seemed different from before. No longer an ominous weald, but a sea of trees glowing with a perennial luster.

“You sure are high-spirited today.” Corin said, nudging at Ben’s shoulder with his fist.

Ben scoffed. “You’re one to talk.”

Murley embraced their necks and squeezed them tight together. “You’re both beamin’ like damn fools! Satisfied with our work here, are we?”

“As well you should,” Lunden said, nodding in approval. “It shan’t be long before the spirits of Machen recover from this ordeal. And it’s all thanks to your efforts. I’m proud of you all, Murley included.”

Murley blushed and let Ben and Corin go, twirling his mustache instead. “Oh, cut it off, chief. Nothing we haven’t done in the past and nothing we won’t do again,” he said, turning his attention to Ben, an idea brightening his face. “Speaking of which. You get tired of those fancy pants in Dool, you better come looking for us, understand? We could still make half a Luparius outta you.”

“Half sounds about right.” Corin added mockingly, his lips curled to a side grin.

Ben smiled. Speaking of halves, he felt half-tempted to do away with Wilhelm’s promise of answers and to continue journeying with the Lupari. His gaze instinctively sought the horizon. But I’ve come this far, haven’t I? From what he had heard of the renowned City of Wonders so far, there was no way he could pass on the opportunity to see such a place for himself.

While occupied with such ruminations, the elevator creaked its way to the forest floor without incident. Ben took a deep breath. Crisp air and anticipation intermingled in his lungs, energizing him. The shaky doors swung open, and they stepped off into Blackwoods one last time. Sunlight dappled the clearing; the result of an unusually pleasant winter morning.

“Let’s go pay the Two-Faced Man a visit, shall we?” Lunden said as he moved next to Ben.

He nodded in agreement, and the group set off into the forest.

⦶⦶⦶

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“He’s a what?” Ben asked, dumbfounded. He wasn’t sure he had heard Murley speak correctly.

Murley chuckled, amused by his response. He swung a branch out of the way, replying to Ben without looking back. “The Two-Faced Man. He’s a god. What of it?”

It was some time past the afternoon, and they had been walking non-stop. Lunden had mentioned that they were getting close, and Ben realized he knew next to nothing about the person he sought. It was then that he inquired about him—only to find out that he was no person at all, apparently, but a genuine deity.

“How does that even work? And how can you be so nonchalant about it?”

“Well, it’s not like he’s a major god, is he? We’re talking about Janus here, patron of doorways and transitions. The patron of bloody twats is what he ought to be called, though. In my professional opinion, of course. Obnoxious bugger.”

Corin, who walked beside Ben, provided him with a more thorough explanation than Murley’s. “Gods have much in common with other spirits that you’ve met so far. It’s only that centuries of worship have made them... Ah, unique, to say the least. The Circle has been employing them for a long time now to gatekeep its Hengeway terminals. People still need to incur their favor that way, and I believe they find it preferable to being forgotten altogether.”

“The boy doesn’t know what Hengeway terminals are, son,” Lunden chimed in from his spot at the front of the party. Ben admitted as much.

Corin continued to oblige him with answers. “The Hengeway is one of the greatest marvels of magical engineering ever achieved. I doubt modern sorcerers could replicate it; it’s a complex lattice of phantom roads, interconnecting far-off places with one another. Think of it as a series of shortcuts, if you will.”

Ben’s mind reeled with possibilities. He was so engrossed in the lesson that he almost tripped on a well-hidden root. “And these go anywhere?” he asked after regaining his balance.

Lunden stopped in his tracks and ground them to a halt. He turned around, hands on his hips, and picked up the explanation where Corin left it. “Not anywhere. Destinations remain fixed unless you deviate from the road. And that I would not recommend. You never know where you’ll pop out, if you can leave at all,” he said, pointing a thumb backward to the area beyond. “But you’ll understand it better once you experience it firsthand. We’re here, Benjamin Umber. The Two-Faced Man lies but a minute’s walk north.”

Now that the moment to part ways had come, reluctance filled Ben. He looked at each of the members of Colmain & Co. Extermination Services: Staunch Lunden, dependable Murley, and demure Corin. So, I’m going to be alone again.

He arched an eyebrow, curiosity suddenly flashing across his face. “Where are you guys headed to?”

Lunden tilted his head westward, and the other two Lupari followed his gaze. “Hm, good question. Probably to the Troll Market in New York City. Job offers abound over there this time of year,” he grinned and got close to Ben, putting a hand on his head and tousling his hair. “Murley wasn’t kidding, by the way. If you’d rather replace libraries with open fields, get in touch with the Luparius Guild in Dool. I daresay you’d make a superb hunter, and I’d vouch for you personally. May Fortune be with you, Ben the Wyrd.”

“Ha! Ben the Wyrd, is it now? Don’t let it go up to your head, a glory-name like that,” Murley said as he twirled his mustache. He clapped him on the back with his free hand, almost knocking him to the ground. “Make sure that doesn’t happen, eh, m’boy? I’d like to see you in one-piece next time we meet!”

Corin stretched his hand and grabbed Ben’s, and he shook it with that immutable calm that characterized him. “I haven’t met many people our age that I can call friends, and when it comes to you, I’m glad I can do just that. Stay safe, friend.”

“You’re the ones going on another hunt, aren’t you? I think I’ll manage on my end. May Fortune be with you all, friends.” Ben replied, his heart lurching with gratitude.

And that was that. In that stoic manner of theirs, the Lupari turned around and embarked on their next journey without lingering. After watching them for a few moments, Ben stood still. Once they disappeared from view, he turned and continued on his journey in the opposite direction.

Ben the Wyrd, he echoed giddily in his head. How was that for impressive? He’d have to let Wilhelm know he now had a nickname of his own. His thoughts thus occupied it wasn’t long before the Blackwoods broke into another clearing—just like Lunden had advised they would.

“Whoa,” Ben said out loud as he examined his new surroundings. In the center of a meadow stood two ancient monolithic stones, covered in moss and weathered by time. They arched inward and met together at the center, giving them the appearance of a door. Considering its size, Ben couldn’t help but wonder for whom such an entryway was intended.

chapter_img_03 [https://imgur.com/9782vXL.jpg]

He began to walk closer, when suddenly a bodiless voice addressed him out of nowhere. “Halt! Easy there, mortal. What drives you to commit such—such sacrilege? To pierce into these hallowed grounds uninvited! Preposterous, it’s what it is.”

Ben raised an eyebrow in confusion. Where was the voice coming from? He stood there frozen in midstep, examining his surroundings to pinpoint its origin. He was spoken to again as he did, although the voice sounded different this time. Much friendlier and more inviting.

“Don’t mind me, mortal. Please, do come closer! Is that magic that I sense in you? Quite the dashing sorcerer, are we not?”

“Um, should I stop or should I move?” Ben asked, unsure of how to proceed.

“Stop!” Boomed the first voice angrily.

“Move!” Entreated the second voice pleasantly.

There. Something caught Ben’s eye; leaning behind the stone archway, he could partially see a man wearing an ancient Roman toga, giving his back to him. Could that be Janus? Ben wondered.

He knew he couldn’t linger there indefinitely, prompting him to move forward. Ben decided to take heed of the second voice and resumed his approach. As he did, Janus revealed himself completely from his hiding spot behind the standing stones. He towered over seven feet tall, and his physique was sculpted like a Greek statue. His face was covered by a tragedy mask, red and irate. He crossed his arms and tapped his foot impassively, the entirety of his body language confrontational.

“Didn’t I tell you to stop?! Are you dimwitted, mortal?”

He cut an intimidating figure indeed—but not as intimidating as the barghest or the witches, Ben surmised. “You also told me to move,” was Ben’s response.

A spasm coursed his interlocutor’s body, and his head spun in its place, replacing one mask with another, this time a comedy mask, blue and permanently smiling. Ben took a step back, startled by this transformation.

“That I did, that I did! Please forgive me; I can be quite the hassle to deal with. But where are my manners? My name is Janus, keeper of this Hengeway terminal. State your name and purpose, if you would.”

It was the friendly voice again. Of that, he was sure. He’d seen many strange things since he crossed, but this certainly took the prize. He realized that he wasn’t dealing with two spirits but with a single one with dual personalities.

“M-My name’s Benjamin Umber. Nice to meet you, Janus.”

With another spasm and a swift turn of his head, the red mask adorned his face once more. “Enough with the pleasantries. State your purpose. Can’t you follow simple instructions?” Janus’s tone was sharp and commanding.

Ben sighed. He might as well play along and not offend a literal god. “I wish to use the Hengeway and travel to Dool, if you’d please.”

“I don’t please. How about that?” Another spasm and spin, and he was wearing the blue mask again. “But where are my manners? Of course, I please, and of course I do. Now come along before I change my mind.”

He turned away from Ben and tapped the left stone pillar with his knuckles, causing the Hengeway to activate instantly. Ben sensed a powerful surge of magic, and a dazzling swirl of white energy materialized within the archway, covering every inch of the space within it.

Janus extended his hand gracefully, a silent invitation for Ben to step forward into the unknown portal. Ben gulped nervously. Machen’s elevator looked like child’s play next to this unknown, writhing wall of magic. Ben got closer and stopped a single pace away from it. He could hear a constant, cackling sound not dissimilar to static coming from it.

“This is safe, right? And it will take me to Dool?” Ben asked in unease.

Spasm. Spin. Janus was wearing the red mask now, and from such a close distance, he did seem as intimidating as the barghest and the witches.

“I. Don’t. Have. All. Day!” Janus replied peevishly, and he shoved Ben forward.

Ben stumbled into the Hengeway portal, enveloped by a blinding, radiant white light that completely blinded him, overwhelming his senses.