Burning with Angst: Angst, #4

By David J. Pedersen

Three months after the attack on Princess Victoria, Angst learns that his friends are still missing, and his wife is kicking him out. If that's not enough, the war between elements has taken its toll on Ehrde, and now, a war between nations seems inevitable. Fortunately, there are only two elements remaining. Unfortunately, they have combined forces to destroy Angst and everyone he loves. It seems Angst's midlife crisis may be anything but simple.

None of this was in the hero rulebook he never got, but Angst has a plan! It's not a very good plan—actually, it's a really bad plan, but with help from some unexpected allies, he sets out to find his friends, save Unsel, and return home before his wife leaves him forever. What could possibly go wrong?

Burning with Angst is the fourth fantasy novel in David J. Pedersen's Angst series. Join Angst and his friends as they continue…

A Midlife Crisis in Medieval Times

• Language: English
• Publisher: Odysia Press
• Release date: Dec 16, 2016
• ISBN: 9781540136459

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Location Unknown

The bitter wind was furious, screaming in his ears as hard snow pelted his face. Hector stopped after taking only a few steps through the portal. This had to be wrong, and every instinct told him to go back. He turned around, pushing through knee-high snow. His muscles were already seizing from the cold, each step slower and slower. Tarness appeared—he was the last one through, and the portal began to collapse in on itself.

Go back, Hector shouted, waving his arms.

There was a noisy sizzle, like bacon frying, and a pop as the cloudy black circle that had delivered them here disappeared. Tarness glanced over his shoulder, grasping at several flickering lights, remnants of the portal that blew away in the storm. He faced Hector and shook his head in confirmation.

This is the worst rescue ever, Rose cried, her fine red hair whipping across her pale cheeks. Where are we?

This isn’t Unsel? Dallow asked, shielding his face from the winds with one hand.

Way too much winter to be Unsel, Tarness said, wrapping his arms around Rose and Dallow, a wall against the storm.

I don’t understand, Dallow said, huddling into Tarness. Describe it to me.

We’re in the middle of nowhere, Rose said, her teeth chattering. My healing can't keep us from becoming blocks of ice.

A cliff, Hector said. We’re standing on the edge of a cliff. I don’t know how high up we are—the snowstorm’s clouding the bottom. I can’t see shelter from here, and it’s almost nighttime. It’s going to get colder.

I hate the cold! Rose proclaimed, rubbing her hands together and blowing on them.

It’s not that bad, Tarness said with a big grin, his teeth bright against his dark face.

I need warmth, not smiles, Rose snapped.

Everyone come close, Dallow said through chattering teeth.

We’re all here, Hector said, grasping arms with Tarness to close the huddle.

Tarness patted Hector’s arms amiably.

No hugging, Hector said sharply.

Dallow’s eyes flashed white, and he muttered something to himself. The wind abruptly stopped, snow crashing against the outside of an invisible dome that circled them, the edge within arm’s reach.

Air shield? Tarness asked.

Dallow nodded, his face wrenched in concentration. The white glow from his eyes was bright beneath the kerchief around his face.

Nice! Tarness acknowledged.

We need another portal, Hector said, vigorously rubbing his arms. We should be in Unsel. Angst needs us.

I understand the concept, Dallow grunted, strained by the effort of holding up the shield. But I don’t have that kind of power. It would take a foci, probably more.

More than a foci? Tarness asked.

It’s old magic, Dallow said, his hands now shaking. I don’t think I have a chance...

Neither do we, if you don’t try, he said. Hector looked at his friends; they wouldn’t last long in this. Dallow and Rose were so thin, and she was so tiny, they were already affected by the freezing temperatures. Her lips were already blue. Tarness seemed to be holding up, steam rising from his body. Was magic protecting the large man from the storm? If so, how long could that possibly last? If this didn’t work, he needed a plan to keep them safe, even a bad plan, even one of Angst’s plans. This had to work.

Dallow took several deep breaths, letting them out in measured sighs, as if preparing to lift a heavy weight. After a large gulp of air, he held out both arms and shouted, Apenn!

The air shield shimmered, letting in a brief blast of cold and snow before protecting them once again. A slick sheen of sweat covered Dallow’s face, which was now haggard with exhaustion.

Hector squinted, broaching the edge of the shield, trying his best to pierce the veil of the storm. Snow battering the barrier completely obstructed his view.

Nothing, he finally said. Can you try again?

I’m sorry, Dallow croaked, dropping to his knees. His hands shook with fatigue.

The air shield collapsed, and cold wind instantly bit into their skin, rending out chunks of life. Rose pulled herself from Tarness’s protective arm to give Dallow a hug.

You tried, she said, kissing his forehead. She glanced up. What’s that?

Describe it! Dallow shouted over the wind.

Twenty yards away, Hector said in his gravelly voice. A rectangle of light in the middle of nothing, like a doorway, and it’s getting smaller.

Did I do it? Dallow asked hopefully. After a quiet moment, he shouted, To the light...run!

Tarness picked Dallow and Rose up and plowed through the burgeoning snow. Hector leaped over mounds and was the first to arrive. Without hesitation, he dove into the light, landing on hard stone and rolling smoothly to one knee. He drew out a staff and surveyed the immediate area for danger. He was on a path, a well-lit stone walkway. It was warm; there was no wind, no storm. The entrance was getting smaller.

It’s safe, Hector called out. Hurry!

Dallow flew past Hector as if thrown, belly-flopping on the path and skidding to a stop. Rose soon followed, folding into a ball and rolling until she crashed into Dallow with a grunt. The doorway was already too small for their large friend. Tarness’s shoulder was lodged in one corner as he pushed against the opposite side, struggling to keep it open. He roared in frustration, and the closing slowed.

He can’t fit through, Rose said franticly.

Tarness! Hector sprinted to the rectangle. He skidded to a stop at the opening and jammed the staff in the doorway to help prop it open.

The door stopped getting smaller, and Tarness pulled back. Hector faced away from a momentary gust of wind and snow that stopped when Tarness returned.

Hector, Tarness said through the opening.

They both eyed the staff that shuddered under the weight of the closing door.

Tarness. This couldn’t be happening, he didn’t believe in the no-win scenario. He had lost men in hard-fought battles, but had always walked away victorious. Tarness was a close friend, not a soldier, and he didn’t know what to say.

Tarness’ face looked pained. Tell Angst thank you.

What? Hector asked incredulously. No, don’t give up!

Thank him for me, for the adventure, Tarness said. I’m glad he made me go.

The staff cracked, snapping in half as the opening closed with a thud. Hector took several shaky steps back. He dropped to his knees, frantically searching for a doorframe, eying every inch for a hinge or crack but could only feel smooth wall. He stood up and spun around, stomping to his blind friend.

Again! Hector commanded, grabbing Dallow by the shoulder and lifting him up. Open it again!

Dallow stood on shaky legs, nodding as he took deep breaths. His eyes flashed dimly as his brow furrowed. Apenn!

Hector looked at the wall and waited. He could hear his own heavy breathing, and Rose’s teeth chattering. Long moments passed with no sign of the entrance.

Again! Hector yelled.

Apenn! Dallow said, the light in his eyes flickering.

Again! Hector said.

Apenn! Dallow rasped, collapsing to his knees.

It’s gone, Rose said. The entrance is gone, and so is Tarness.

1

Unsel

Heather was worried. Almost three months had passed, and Angst was still trapped. His face was frozen in an intense look of determination. His gray hair was dark with sweat, his jaw was set, his mouth thin and angry. She’d seen him upset many times, but this was almost frightening. He was mad, and frustrated, and her heart went to him, in spite of it all. She was familiar with that look and could only imagine the effort it took to push his way through the spell that had practically frozen him in Victoria’s room.

He’s so close, Wilfred said encouragingly. This could be the day.

She looked at the short, wide man and smiled appreciatively. Angst’s old friend, a former advisor to Isabelle and Alloria, had taken on the considerable burden of leading Unsel while everyone waited. Despite great pressures to step aside for a successor, Wilfred had smartly brought order to Unsel, while dodging weak claims to the throne by miring them down in bureaucracy. Angst had chosen his friend wisely. Not only had Wilfred become a strong leader, he’d also been very supportive of Heather.

I could probably help, Faeoris offered. He’s almost here. I could just reach in and pull them through.

Heather hadn’t heard the Berfemmian come into the hallway. She glanced over her shoulder to see the young woman, who checked on Angst’s progress every day. His newest friend was tall, beautiful, and scantily clad. Heather really wanted to hate her, with her large dark eyes, over-full lips, and a body that was too thin to be that curvy. But, like almost everyone Angst was close to, Heather had become fond of her. She’d been a good friend in his absence.

That’s probably a bad idea, Heather said, holding out a warning arm, as if that could possibly keep the strong Berfemmian back. After what happened to Jaden, I think it’s best we wait.

Faeoris nodded in agreement even as the young woman’s thin brows furrowed in frustration.

Heather turned her gaze back to Victoria’s room. It was like a portrait that changed day to day. According to Jintorich, the Meldusian ambassador, time had slowed in that room. Angst hung in the air, both legs poised as if running. One arm was wrapped around Jaden’s waist and the other around what seemed to be a woman wearing a blue dress. It looked like Angst had tackled them both, and dragged them along as he fought his way out of this room now lost in time. Two swords, two enormous magical foci, stood on their tips at both sides of the entrance, like soldiers guarding the doorway. After three long months, Angst had almost reached that door.

It wasn’t the frozen room that upset everyone else, nor Angst making his way through it for what felt like forever. The nightmare was what he seemed to be running from. Victoria rested on her knees in the gorgeous white gown she would wear for her crowning as Queen of Unsel. Her hands gripped a golden triangular blade that had been jammed through her chest. Drops of blood hung in the air, dripping as slowly as time allowed in that room.

I’m sure it’s any moment now, Heather, Wilfred said. And then we’ll have some answers.

Good, she said gruffly. Because I deserve some.

With a final thrust, Angst launched out of Victoria’s room. He gasped for breath and staggered into the hall. He tried to remember what had happened, his mind thick with the cobwebs of a fevered slumber. It was a nightmare that had muffled his hearing, clouded his vision, and made his body ache. He remembered only one thing very clearly.

Where is she? Angst roared, his throat so dry it hurt.

His arms were stiff and sore. He looked in surprise at two limp bodies pressed against each hip. He could barely remember grabbing even one on his way out and let them go. The bodies fell to the floor in unmoving heaps. They were unfamiliar to him and it was unclear if they even lived. It didn’t matter. Spinning about, Angst sought his foci. The giant swords, brothers, five feet tall and two feet wide, were just inside the entrance. They stood guard, keeping his princess safe. His spell only required one sword remain in the room. Angst needed the other, and reached forward.

Angst, no! a woman cried. Was that Heather?

Pain like fire and lightning raged through his veins as his arm crossed the threshold. The blade was just out of reach, and he let out a roar of anguish and frustration. Bracing one hand against the doorway, Angst leaned further into the room in until he wrapped his hand around the hilt of Chryslaenor. He pulled the giant sword, his giant sword, from the room like removing it from a sheath. The ringing in his ears made it hard to focus, and his arm was almost completely numb, but he had it. Angst faced everyone in the hallway.

Where is Alloria? he growled. Lightning from the foci popped loudly, crawling up his arms and surrounding his chest. Its song rang in his mind, trying to tell him something, but he didn’t care.

Heather stood before him, her eyes brimming with tears and two blankets rolled up in her arms. His friends Wilfred and Faeoris stood beside her, gawking slack-jawed at the two bodies that remained unmoving on the floor.

I... Wilfred said, his tenor voice shaking.

Their eyes were wide, staring at him as if he’d gone mad. Heather was speechless, her mouth open and bottom lip quivering. Faeoris looked ready to leap forward and hug him, or punch him in the mouth, or both. High-pitched cries clashed with the ringing in his ears. It didn’t make sense. They just stood there. Had they all gone crazy? Alloria would escape; he only had seconds to find her. He shook his head, trying to clear away the confusion.

Where is she? he shouted.

I don’t know, Wilfred stuttered. The short, chubby man quivered in fear.

With a growl of fury, Angst tore away from them. He blurred through the castle, dodging soldiers, knocking over tables, scaring pages and maids. Doors were knocked off hinges or destroyed completely as he broke into each room. Slowing enough to see faces, Angst checked every single person he could find in the castle. It was taking too long; he drove harder, pushed faster.

Guilt and pain pursued him with every lurch forward. Alloria couldn’t have gone far with Jormbrinder, and he needed that other half to save Tori. He ignored Chryslaenor’s song, begging him to stop, pleading that it was too late. How could it be too late? Alloria had stabbed his princess only seconds ago. A cook fainted, and everyone else in the kitchen stepped back in fear. Angst gasped for breath, the smell of food cramping his stomach. Nothing made sense. His mind raced to catch up as he fought through thick memories. Alloria had moved as fast as he could, like a blur between moments. Had the young woman bonded with Jormbrinder?

Time was precious. Angst had looked everywhere inside. She must have left the castle, but she couldn’t have gone far. He ran as fast as he could to the entrance, weaving through corridors, whirling around people, only knocking over a few.

Shut up! he shouted at Chryslaenor. The bells and horns of his foci were too loud, distracting him.

A tempest of harrowing thoughts stormed through his head. His heart hurt to bursting for leaving Victoria trapped in that room within a hair’s width of death. Who were the two people he’d carried out? He didn’t even remember grabbing them. Heather had been upset. She’d been holding something. He would have to apologize, again. At least she was safe. He would get answers and give apologies once Alloria was stopped. He rushed out the front gates and skidded to a halt.

The day was bright and sunny, and a cool, damp breeze brushed his cheek. It was warm, the air smelled fresh from rain, and there were new buds on a nearby tree. Winter’s snows were gone. This couldn’t be right. How could it be spring? The song from Chryslaenor quieted as realization sank in.

He’s being stupid, Faeoris said, placing an arm around Heather as she tried comforting the woman. He’s just confused.

Why was he asking for Alloria? Heather struggled, sobs sneaking out between breaths.

Faeoris didn’t know what to say, and apparently neither did Wilfred. He looked on the verge of tears, apparently affected by Heather’s ability to infect others’ emotions with her own. He turned away from them, wiping his eyes before gently rolling the bodies over to lie more naturally.

They’re both breathing, he said, his voice catching. Heather, please try to calm yourself. He’ll be back, and we can explain everything to him.

He can explain everything to us, Faeoris snapped.

Heather nodded and pulled away from her. Faeoris wanted to hunt Angst down and make this right, but even she couldn’t keep up with the man. I’ll knock some sense into him, she swore under her breath, making Heather chuckle.

Thank you, Heather said, taking deep breaths. I’m sure you’re right, that he’s just confused.

He shouldn’t wield magic that confuses him, Faeoris said.

When he comes back, Heather said, give him a minute. There’s going to be a lot for him to absorb, and—

There was a rush of air, and Faeoris’s long hair brushed her cheeks as Angst blurred into the hallway. He faced away from them, staring into Victoria’s room, holding up a fist to the invisible barrier. The barrier sparked, but this time, he didn’t push through.

What is it, Angst? Wilfred asked. What happened?

The princess and I were talking. Tori asked me if I would... Angst stopped to take a deep breath. "Out of nowhere, it was there. Jormbrinder, a foci...through her chest. Alloria was standing behind her with the other half of the blade. There was blood, so much blood, and she ran away, fast, like I run with my foci. I wanted to pull the dagger free, I wanted to save her, but Dulgirgraut said I couldn’t, not without the other half. So I cast a spell. I cast the spell. I tried to relive the day again so I could save her, but something went wrong. I failed. I..." Angst’s head dropped, his loss and despair palpable.

The room was breathlessly silent. Faeoris reached out to Angst. His hands trembled, and she couldn’t help wanting to comfort him. The beating could wait. She’d been angry at him for months, but this wasn’t the time. Before she could think of anything to say, there was a squawk, and then a cry from the blankets in Heather’s arms.

Angst’s head jerked up. He turned around slowly, and his teary eyes went wide. Chryslaenor fell from his back, clattering noisily onto the marble floor, making both bundles in Heather’s arms wail.

Angst took labored steps toward Heather and their babies, his face pale, filled with sorrow and wonder. He looked at his children, tears trickling down his cheeks. His gaze turned to Heather and he swayed on wobbly legs. Faeoris moved behind him.

I’m so sorry, he said, his voice shaky.

Oh, Angst, Heather said. She sounded so happy to see him.

What have I done? Angst asked.

Faeoris caught him as he collapsed.

2

He wanted to fake it—to just stay on this uncomfortable cot, ignore the growing ache in his back, shut out the noisy room, and pretend to sleep. Like most things these days, he didn’t seem to have a choice—there was so much that needed doing. But more than anything, Angst wanted to lie still and pretend to be unconscious. It felt like he hadn’t slept in months, but his tiredness wasn’t merely a lack of sleep; it was a bone-weary exhaustion, as if he’d spent a week moving a friend’s furniture. Couldn’t he have just a little more time to understand what had happened? Angst had wanted to be a hero, and then he was, and now wasn’t he supposed to be celebrating? Sleep sounded like a great way to celebrate.

So very much had happened since wielding Chryslaenor, he could barely fathom it. Before the foci, Angst had spent a lifetime doing nothing. He’d filed documents for the crown in a castle cellar where even the candlelight had seemed dim. He’d had some friends, including the young princess Victoria. He’d had some foes, including her mother Isabelle. He’d loved his wife, and they’d only argued every third day. It hadn’t been a terrible life, except, he’d known it wasn’t his.

Angst had longed to be a hero. A knight. Someone who could protect Unsel from monsters and dragons, even if they only existed in stories. Someone who was respected, despite being old, and chubby, and short. Despite being a magic wielder. As a youth, he’d pushed and begged Hector to train him to fight, teach him how to be one of those men in armor. Hector had reluctantly agreed, even though they’d both known it would never happen, because Angst was a wielder. Wielding the magics had been mostly illegal since before memory, and Unsel was the only nation progressive enough to tolerate it even a little. His lifelong goal wasn’t against all odds; there were no odds to barter with. It just wasn’t going to happen.

On one prophetic night, trying to protect his friend Rose, he’d hefted the giant sword Chryslaenor, which everyone had thought was just a statue. Much more than that, the sword was a foci that enhanced his magic with vast power. When actual monsters began to attack and only the magics could stop them, Angst was more than happy to represent. He’d used this opportunity to drag his reluctant friends through an adventure that was filled with hope, and pain, and battle, and sacrifice, and everything required to become a hero.

That win seemed to open doors within doors. The monsters were created by one of the five elements, Magic, who was at war with the other elements, Earth, Air, Fire, and Water. When his father said, I fought the elements, it meant he walked to school, uphill, in a windy snowstorm. Angst’s fight hadn’t been that simple. He’d battled physical representations of elements, and each time, it had hurt. A lot. Earth had died protecting Angst and his friends. Air was obliterated when Angst exploded bonding with a second foci, which he’d used to destroy that crazy bitch, Water. And he wasn’t done.

He just didn’t understand why they even needed to involve humans. This war that happened every two thousand years was like a great game to them, one that usually kept them from engaging directly. Each had their own army to fight for them. Magic created a great river of orange ooze that the Nordruaut called the Vex’kvette. Everything that touched the ooze either died, or changed into a monster. Angst had killed the scariest monster of them all, Sir Ivan. Fire used dragons, great wyrms with wings. Tori had helped him kill the biggest one. Water had an army of gargoyles, and now, maybe an army of merpeople. Air fought with cavastil, giant birds with long steel beaks—he’d killed quite a few of them racing to Unsel after fighting Ivan. Gamlin were invulnerable hedgehog porcupines that used to do Earth’s bidding, and now worked for Angst.

Had he actually done all that? Not alone, and not without loss. Soldiers, uncounted heroes, had died trying to protect Unsel from attacks by Water and Magic. Half of Melkier’s grand central city was destroyed when Fire dropped a sun on them, or whatever that was. He’d watched Vars slay Victoria’s mother, Queen Isabelle, and her Captain Guard, Tyrell. And then, his friends Rook and Janda. And then, Moyra. All of it was his fault. Nothing had happened until he’d touched the sword. These thoughts roiled through his head. He struggled to keep his eyes shut, until he heard it...heard them. A disgruntled wah followed closely by another, and his eyes shot open with panic. He was the father of twins. He sat up, and reached out with both arms, making everyone in the room gasp.

Please. He beckoned.

Without a word, Heather stepped forward and rested the twins in his arms. He could see her face in theirs, and maybe his too. One suckled a thumb before quieting, the other took a minute of rocking. He wasn’t sure where the rocking came from, but his body leaned into the cadence instinctively. The little bundles snuggled into the crook of his arms and fell asleep. His children were warm, and comforting, and his shoulders relaxed. For the first time, looking at them, he felt he’d done something right.

He looked at Heather with all the apology he could muster in his eyes. Hers were cool, but she smiled. Her beautiful face was framed with brown, curly hair that had just begun to gray. She was almost his height, and curvy in a way he appreciated more than she did. Neither of them were thin, but she’d kept youth in her face far better than he had, and in his eyes, not much had changed. Heather blushed at his thoughtful gaze, and her look thawed slightly.

After several moments, he realized that his wife and children weren’t the only ones in the room. Guards stood at the entrance, both men he recognized, who nodded respectfully. Physician Nynette stood over Jaden as he slept. He breathed slowly in his deep slumber, but at least he was breathing.

Beside his wife stood Angst’s tall, stunning Berfemmian friend Faeoris. He couldn’t help but be surprised she was still here. How long had it been since he’d cast the spell? It had to have been months, so it was surprising that she’d waited. Faeoris was a far better friend than he’d hoped for or deserved after their brief adventure. She stood a head and shoulder taller than his wife. Her face was pretty, with high cheekbones, full, full lips, and dark eyes that complemented her fine, light brown hair. Like most Berfemmian, she was mostly naked, which was great. She wore a small, armored top that pushed her breasts up and together in a wonderfully distracting way. Her tiny leather shorts had scaled armor protecting both hips, and her legs were covered with shiny leather boots that almost reached her shorts. He smiled curiously at her, and she replied with a quizzical gaze.

I’m glad to see you, he said. But surprised that you didn’t return to Angoria. Won’t they be lost without you?

Marisha is leading in my stead, she said. And I would never leave a friend in need.

I never doubted you’d have my back, Angst said with a nod, still meeting her gaze.

Good, she replied curtly. Faeoris nodded at the young woman in a bed to his left. Who’s that?

Angst turned his head to one side, stretching his neck over the bundle in his arms. His eyes widened. The young woman breathed as deeply and steadily as Jaden. A mane of light brown curls poured over her shoulders. She was beautiful, with a tanned complexion, dark eyebrows, shapely lips, and a little nose. Aerella. They’d met at the cursed mage city Gressmore, which had relived the same day for two thousand years. When Angst killed the man who’d created the curse, her father Anderfeld, his friends had been thrown free from the city, and Aerella with them. She’d adventured with them for a short time before being sucked into a vortex by the monster Ivan. Angst had feared her dead, except that she kept showing up in his dreams to warn him, guide him, and annoy him.

An old friend, Angst replied.

I’m not that old, Aerella said in her husky voice, propping herself up on her elbows. "At least, I hope I don’t look that old."

You’re awake! Angst said in surprise. He wanted to leap out of bed, but exhaustion and babies kept him in place. What happened? Where have you been?

In time, Aerella said, gently massaging her temples.

Why wait? Angst asked. You can tell me now.

No, I mean I’ve been lost in time. I’ll explain more later, when the world stops spinning, she said with a thick tongue. But I think this is it.

The physician brought her a metal cup of water, which Aerella gulped down.

What’s it? Angst asked.

It means I’ve been traveling through centuries to end up here, she said firmly, pushing herself upright and facing him with a stern gaze. It means that I’m here to stop you from destroying the world.

Great, he replied.

3

Fulk'han

Guldrich knelt on his mount, placing a calming hand on its back as he looked up at the full moon. He took a welcome breath of the crisp spring breeze—a moment’s respite from the stench beneath him. It was worth it; every moment of hard work, and pain, and frustration had all led to this. Four months ago, the Fulk’han leadership had tried to jail him for failing to overthrow Unsel. They’d wanted revenge against Angst for killing Takarn Ivan. Guldrich had, indeed, failed. The Fulk’han had underestimated the wielders in Unsel, a mistake that would never happen again.

Before he was jailed, a purple Fulk’han woman, Felicia, had tasked him to find a champion. The woman had cast a magic portal and pushed him through. He’d appeared in Nordruaut, and spent weeks battling the giants to free himself. Guldrich had even lost his arm during a battle with their champion and been shocked to learn that his new ability to heal was powerful enough to grow another one. He’d learned many things, about himself and about the Nordruaut. More importantly, he’d found something. Something big. Something powerful.

Guldrich had waited three months before returning to Fulk’han. As a general and an experienced warrior, he knew the importance of timing. It was imperative that the arm cut off by the Nordruaut champion, Niihlu, was fully healed and strong. He also needed to collect information, which had been graciously provided by his purple seductress. More importantly, it had taken that long just to come to terms with the monster, their new champion.

He looked down at his new arm. Before Niihlu had sliced it with the giant frozen axe, his bicep and forearm had been covered with scars, a mark for every kill. It now looked naked, and he rubbed at the bony protrusions on his gray forearm, hungering to replace what was missing. He took another deep breath and gritted his teeth before Felicia placed a hand on his shoulder.

It’s time, my general, she said, her voice husky and sincere.

Part of him still wanted to kill her for casting him into Nordruaut unprepared, for making him suffer through the challenge. But without her magic, he would never have discovered how truly weak the Nordruaut had become. He would never have learned that he could heal through the loss of limb. He would never have discovered their champion. She’d been useful, in many ways, and she’d been right. Somehow she knew, always knew, what was coming. Her furry purple tail rose seductively up his spine before reaching his neck, wrapping around to brush his cheek affectionately. Guldrich ignored it as best he could, and nodded in agreement.

He stood beside Felicia on his champion’s broad shoulders and stepped down hard. Forward! he commanded.

The creature let out a wet snort before tromping toward the capital. Light from a thousand torches in the center of the city cast a glow, as soldiers congregated around the remains of Takarn Ivan. Upon their approach, however, he couldn’t help but be impressed with how many Fulk’han had gathered to march. Felicia had explained that, without him, they would march to their slaughter. He had to do this, he had to save his people, and the only way was to set them on the right path.

Slowly, he said to his champion. We don’t want to kill, just scare. For now.

Soldiers gasped and shouted as Guldrich approached. He ignored them and the tension he sensed from men and women preparing to war. Some raised shaky spears, but all scurried away from his mount. A sea of gray men covered in bone armor and beautiful furry women of all colors parted way, making a path to Emperor Gath, General Arbeter, and Sergeant Adviser Beld.

Guldrich scoffed aloud. Gath had the gall to stand at the base of Takarn Ivan. The tree-like husk of Ivan’s remains still retained power, orange embers flitting about it like fireflies. Its dark tendrils reached high up into the night. Felicia shivered beside him at the sight, but said nothing.

Gath appeared an easy target, small and weak. Guldrich reminded himself of the plan, that the Fulk’han leadership could still be useful. He didn’t want to be a bureaucrat; he was a general. But if they didn’t comply, he may not have a choice.

What...what is this? Emperor Gath shouted. Guldrich? Is that you?

Guldrich let the question hang in the air. We are at a time of champions, Emperor. Every nation is coming forward with a hero to represent them on the battlefield. It is time for Fulk’han to have a champion of its own!

He stomped his foot twice, and the creature he called Lurp awkwardly reached over its shoulder and pulled them from its back with a giant hand, setting them down as gently as a hammer. Guldrich winced as his knees buckled, and Felicia yelped in pain. He glanced back at his champion in irritation, and his heart skipped a beat. Even after these months, the beast was horrid to look at.

Lurp wasn’t merely a mount or a man; it was something else. It had taken Guldrich days to dig Lurp free of the confines of the Vex’kvette. Like a goldfish placed in a larger pond, Lurp quickly grew. The hand sticking out of the ground that had grabbed his leg had become large enough to lift several men. After setting them down, it rested on its fists—all six of them—like a gorilla. Each fist had a thumb but only three thick fingers, as if there wasn’t room for a pinky. Lurp had no feet, merely hands attached to arms the size of old tree trunks. His torso was easily twenty yards in length, covered in wispy hair that hung from his body in patches.

The monster’s skin was mottled, a splatter painting of black and olive and peach, as though the Vex’kvette couldn’t decide which skin would dominate from the creatures it had combined. Lurp’s dark charcoal face was too thin for a ‘human’ that large, as if someone had squeezed his cheeks until his forehead jutted out in a lumpy protrusion. His right ear was proportionally normal, while his left hung off kilter and rested low like a guilty labrador’s. His bottom teeth stuck up in all directions from his jutting jaw, like trees after an earthquake, several almost reaching his large pug nose. But the most frightening thing about Lurp wasn’t his six arms, folds of muscles, or terrible smell. It was his eyes. Those eyes that seemed far, far too intelligent and attentive for a nightmare apparition.

Guldrich tore his gaze away and met the emperor’s eyes. Eyes that seemed far less intelligent than they should’ve. Emperor Gath had aged quickly over the last three months. Was it a sign of weakness? He rubbed his bare arm and took a deep, restrained breath.

Our champion, my liege, Guldrich said with a short bow. I call him Lurp.

Gath appeared disappointed, as if the bow wasn’t enough, but it was all Guldrich would give. The old, gray man hesitated. He looked from the giant to Guldrich, calculating the connection. His awe-filled visage twisted to disgust, as if Guldrich had shown him a pile of feces.

This is no champion, Gath spat, waving Lurp away like a fly. This is a Vex’kvette monster. Nothing more. We have no time for your nonsense, Guldrich. We march on Unsel, to finish what you failed to do!

You’re going the wrong way, Guldrich shouted so all could hear.

Soldiers chuckled hesitantly, looking at each other as if deciding whether the general was just crazy, or actually mocking the emperor. Guldrich needed their attention, quickly. Many were loyal enough to Gath, but marching on Unsel would mean facing wielders they couldn’t defend against. As far as he knew, Felicia was the only Fulk’han to wield magic, and nothing she had cast could be used as a weapon. No, one wielder wouldn’t be enough to face Unsel, nor was Unsel their true goal.

You’ve gone crazy in your absence. Gath shook his head in disbelief. We know where Unsel is.

No one here cares about Unsel. You’re marching to find Angst, Guldrich said. The man who killed Takarn-Ivan.

Heads bowed and soldiers muttered in agreement. Spittle formed on Gath’s thin lips as he waved one of his advisers forward. The gray man whispered something in his ear.

Angst hasn’t left Unsel for months, the man stated. We will find him at their capital, and destroy him.

He will be leaving soon, Guldrich said, surprising himself with patience.

Where do you think he is going? Beld asked, swallowing hard as he looked up at Lurp.

Guldrich looked at Felicia. The purple woman’s eyes were always hungry seduction, and they peered at him as she nodded in confirmation.

To Nordruaut, he said firmly. This is where we must bring the battle.

Nordruaut? Gath laughed. We aren’t prepared to face those giants; they would slaughter us.

The giants are weak, Guldrich called, turning away to speak to the soldiers. I killed a score of them myself. Stories of their strength are just that: stories. I hunted them like cattle and walked away a free man. They are not the danger. We hunt for Angst, and he heads north.

A strong, bony hand clamped onto his wrist and Gath raised it high for everyone to see. Then where are your scars? he called out. The scars that made you a general.

Guldrich jerked his hand free and held it up high. I lost this arm in a battle with the Nordruaut champion, a man who wields a weapon as powerful as Angst’s. A weak fool, who I defeated! My arm, this arm, he made a fist and shook it, grew back, new and powerful. We are immortal, brothers and sisters. We cannot lose. We have nothing to fear from a physical attack. We will defeat the giants, and all other nations will fear us. But first, we hunt for Angst. Join me on the march to Nordruaut.

Insanity, Gath cried out. Guards, take this traitor in chains, or kill him now. I’m done wasting my time.

Soldiers closest looked up at Lurp. The giant creature licked its nose thoughtlessly before peering at them. They shuffled back to the safety of the crowd.

Guards! Gath commanded again.

I tried, Guldrich said with a sigh, looking at Felicia, who nodded vigorously in agreement. He pointed at Gath. Lurp, feed!

Guldrich turned away as Lurp grabbed the screaming emperor. There was a loud crunch followed by cries from nearby soldiers. Blood and carcass spilled at his feet. He pointed at General Arbeter. Lurp’s giant hand scooped him up like a bug, and the general’s fearful screams were cut short as teeth gnashed on bone. Guldrich held up a hand and approached Beld. He said nothing.

Beld immediately fell to his knees. Emperor Guldrich! Beld cried, touching his forehead to the ground.

Guldrich smiled.

4

Unsel

W hy would I destroy Ehrde? Angst asked, dumbfounded. That wouldn’t even cross my mind...most days.

It’s not why, Angst, it’s when, Aerella said forcefully. I need to clearly understand what point of time I’m in. What’s the last thing you remember?

I was talking with Victoria before her inauguration, Angst said, his heart speeding. Her cousin, Alloria, snuck into the room, stabbed her with a dagger, and ran out.

Why didn’t you just remove the dagger and heal her? Aerella asked, frowning sternly.

It’s a foci. Actually, half a foci. Jormbrinder the Exception, Angst explained. His words came out thick and heavy. To him, the attack on Victoria had just happened. And now he was supposedly destroying Ehrde? He wanted to pass out again, but his roiling stomach wouldn’t let him.

Jormbrinder...I hate that one, she said with