SylverMoon Chronicles: Volume IX: SylverMoon Chronicles, #9

By Confederacy of the Quill

Piracy finds a higher purpose... a young woman discovers mystical creatures who look like her... policework takes a dramatic turn through a magic portal... a priestess must carry a heavy and unexpected burden... the bridge between worlds is no longer oceans apart...

The international writers cooperative, the Confederacy of the Quill, brings you the latest installment of their annual short story anthology. This series includes stories in the genres of Science Fiction, Fantasy, Horror, and Adventure. New worlds await you!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sylver Quill Press
• Release date: Feb 14, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393854869

Book preview

SylverMoon

Chronicles

Volume Nine

A picture containing bird Description automatically generated

Table of Contents

Foreword

Continuations

Ascension to the Dragon Throne

Prepping for a Road Trip

Preacher & the Pale Devil: Book of Malachi

It’s All Fun and Games Until...

The Bladed Shaft IX

New Material

Glassworks

Bast

The Fall of a King

L’Appel du Vide

The Pythia

Explorer’s Journal: Hydra Husbandry

At Water’s Edge

Bodhi’s Ghost

The Way

The Water Spirit

The Port au Piracy

Boogyman

Ocean

From Sea to Sea

Depth & Darkness

The Island that Shouldn’t Be

If You Can Walk

Lanmé a

The Song of Aquila

Author Bios

Foreword

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Discovery - the reward of innovation, perspiration, and some measure of good fortune. It brings us to a new place, delivering a yield of the unknown, the new and the fascinating. But it is an exercise of commencement: the ending of one thing, the beginning of another.

Whenever a discovery is made, amidst the bounty of treasures found lies the challenge - to find the next place, to set ourselves upon yet another search. You will find that the Confederacy of the Quill are raiders of a different sort of place. For it is not a tomb where things go to die, but a place where things are brought to life. With the light of our imaginations to show us the way, we press on!

And here we have come to the ninth Volume of the SylverMoon Chronicles. We invite you to sample this newly discovered bounty. But be quick about it. Already the expedition to find the tenth Volume is well underway!

And remember, we would love to hear from you!

You can find us at Confederacy of the Quill Online

Continuations

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Aahh yes, there it is, your mount made ready for another ride. They know your scent and quickly take their position at your side. You can feel the eagerness in their soft grunts and curious nudges. You know your friend by name and you are familiar with their function and form down to the last stitch in the saddle.

So you take to the mount and they take to you. Perfection!

But have a care. This ride started on familiar grounds. But now that the stable is out of sight, your eyes discover a fork ahead in the road. This is a path you have not yet taken and your mount is already in the midst of its turn. Hang on, it's going to be a bumpy ride!.

Ascension to the Dragon Throne

Continuation of Hero of Junn-Gladeer (Vol. I),

The Bane of The WarloKs (Vol. II),

In the Wake of Shadows (Vol. III),

Cometh the WarloK King (Vol. IV),

Champion of Destiny (Vol. V),

Just a Touch of the DragoN (Vol. VI),

Boon and Dragonbane (Vol. VII),

A Dance of Blade and Woe (Vol. VII),

Students and Masters (Vol. VIII), &

When Heroes Fall (Vol. VIII)

(Fantasy Serial)

by Reiter

Varzanthi sighed, letting her head hang low between her shoulders. She was fatigued, but she only let a little time pass before she returned to the effort of freeing herself. She looked at the shackles. This most recent set already showed signs of degradation, several PahTs sooner than the last set she had struggled against.

Impressive is the only word that fits, Relsentia said as she came up the stone steps to the platform where Varzanthi was being held. I can only imagine what that foolish SorceroR filled your head with to make you so persistent.

"Are you speaking of the same foolish SorceroR who has outsmarted you at every turn?" Varzanthi asked with a slight chuckle.

And the very same one you tried to destroy! Relsentia smiled at her cruel reminder.

That fault lies with me. And it stands as just another victory he has scored against the all-powerful blood of the Draco!

Relsentia’s hand went to her hip where she kept her whip; the handle, the weighted tip, and the DragoN’s eyes all glowed with MannA.

Don’t!

A tall, slender DragoN in Human form came up the stairs. The man made for a remarkable figure, handsome and strong, walking with the grace of a dancer who had mastered all the ancient forms. I will not tell you again that I do not want her harmed.

Yes, Your Majesty, Relsentia quickly returned, bowing to the man. It’s just that... she...

I understand, Lady Relsentia, the man said, walking up to Varzanthi. Her very existence is a mark upon our name, our kind, our blood, and most surely our MajiK. The man took hold of Varzanthi’s face, forcing her to look into his eyes. At that moment her eyes were purple, but the man could tell they would be changing again and soon.

But this is not a game that will be quick in the passing, he added, releasing her face, allowing his hand to drop down the front of her naked body. We’re up against an opponent who is accustomed to being outnumbered by an entire race, he noted, cupping the woman’s breast in his hand.

You could have just asked, Varzanthi said softly. I would’ve been glad to tell you that I am not in season.

Learned that much, have you? he inquired, lowering his hand to his side.

"I knew DragoNs could choose their time of mating. Wasn’t sure I could do it to myself until my first evening in Lady Relsentia’s care. It’s been almost a TenStar. I wager they stopped trying because of your arrival. And now that you have carnal knowledge of me, might I at least hear your name?"

We do not intimidate Lokbane even if we do manage to frighten him, the man said, stepping back from Varzanthi. In an effort to win the game before it could be played, you have given him a weapon... he is using that weapon with the efficiency of a grandmaster.

You sound so sure of yourself, Varzanthi remarked. "You know the game will be long. You know Jharsen Lokbane is afraid of you. I submit to you, Your Majesty, that you know nothing! But my Master stands ready to teach you all the lessons you require."

Without taking his eyes off of Varzanthi, the man spoke to Relsentia, completely ignoring everything the prisoner had to say. But that is not to say that he is without error! he said before quickly turning to his left and thrusting his clawed hand forward.

Fiarna gasped, her hands gripping the linen of the bed where she was lying. A soft touch was applied to her chest and she turned her head to see Jharsen ushering her back to the mattress.

Easy, he said softly. You’re fine. You’re safe. I would say you’re in a good place, but I’ve decided to address the frequency with which I find myself lying to my students. We’re still in the hobbled shack outside Galmark. Tell me what you saw.

I saw Varzanthi, Fiarna said, getting a hold of her breathing. She was up on a stone platform, like a column of rock that was cored out of a mountain and brought to that room.

Because that is exactly how they crafted it, Jharsen said, removing a pair of black leather gloves. The steel spine running down the back of the column is where her shackles are anchored. That stem touches upon an enchanted gemstone buried in the heart of the column.

And the reason for that?

To prevent what we just did, he replied. What else did you see?

The man that Relsentia answered to, Fiarna said, watching her mentor place the gloves he had been wearing inside a leather wrap. Handsome... powerful... and he’s the one who tried to grab me... a pair of black-gloved hands prevented him.

Aahhh, if that is the case, he’s no man. I took hold of a DragoN, and a very strong one to boot. Jharsen frowned, making a gesture over the wrap before tossing it into the fire. The moment the flames touched the package, it burst into flame, blue and purple flames, and it illuminated the shack and the immediate surrounding area for a moment. Jharsen breathed in some of the smoke.

So, Varzanthi is alright; bound, but healthy, he sighed. That is a relief. Come Star-Rise, we will make our way back into Galmark and make use of the docks there.

Do you actually think we’ll find anyone willing to take us South? Fiarna asked, slowly sitting up. The sky-fires just stopped burning two DoaH ago.

Yes, begging the question what could have caused those fires, and did it really remove the top of the mountain?

Fiarna lowered her head, taking her eyes off of Jharsen. She gave herself a moment before speaking. Master, I realize I am not Efam. But have I not earned your trust?

"It isn’t you he doesn’t trust, Uniassa Starscale said, entering the shack, carrying the fresh kill of a hunt. It had already been skinned and salted, and she placed it on the table in what passed for the kitchen. And to be clear, I am not implying he has no trust of my word. It’s the blood running through S’Gorshyn and myself that he can’t trust, and he is wise not to. I have come to learn much of my kind in this near TenStar in your service, Master. If you had told me of the things you were capable of without showing me, I would not have believed you. But even your surveillance of Varzanthi tells me there is a great deal about the blood of DragoNs that I do not fully comprehend.

"And that... man you saw, Guardian, Uniassa said, turning to leave the shack. He was a true King. There is every chance he was marked to succeed Nlydenkara, though I don’t know how he was awakened."

Keep your attempts at growth to small strides, Uniassa, Jharsen cautioned. "Last TenStar you did not even remember he existed! If the same sort of manipulation has been performed on his mind, it would explain why there is much confusion in the Draco Blood.

It also reveals to us that we are dealing with a sharp intellect, Jharsen concluded. "One that was able to orchestrate a brilliant distraction whilst seeing to the prize: the awakening King!

However, none of that goes to address what supposedly removed the top of a mountain. That is looking more and more like an unexpected variable.

Much like your interference, Uniassa concluded.

Hmmm, forgive me if I cannot allow myself to think I belong to that category, Jharsen argued. While the specifics of size and sort might not have been known, the possibility of my involvement is looking more and more like a considered nuance in this master plan playing out in our lives.

And Relsentia was assigned to it? Fiarna questioned. Are you sure you want to assign the word ‘brilliant’ to this plan?

Have a care, my dear, he warned. "From your tone, I can presume you find Relsentia wanting. Whether or not that is true is shadowed by the fact that she, a DragoN, is a pawn our true opponent does not mind sacrificing.

But alas, I digress, Jharsen declared, smiling at the two females. And here we are, about to fight for our very lives!

A large black Dragyn landed on the shack, roaring its arrival. Shattered wood and white smoke flew in all directions. The creature quickly recognized it as Portal Smoke and searched the nearby area for the destination cloud. He bathed himself in fire, and a Terran man walked out of the flames, sword in hand and a shield at the ready.

Yes, for your sake, I do hope it is Portal Smoke, S’Gorshyn said, dusting some of the debris off his chest. Because if it isn’t, you just killed my sister, and I will have your head for the offense.

You’ve been among the Terrans too long, Draco Blood, the man said, moving in a streaking blur, driving his shield into S’Gorshyn’s shoulder. You draw words when you should be drawing weapons! Now you are prone... and soon you shall be dead!

Another streaking lunge was performed by the man, his sword thrusting forward. The point pierced the soil just to the left of S’Gorshyn’s head, his legs were tripped by his prone opponent, and he tumbled to the ground.

I will reserve weapons for those who deserve their blessing. You’re not worth my sympathy, let alone my steel!

Arrogant DragoN! the man said, rolling up to his feet and charging. On this exchange, S’Gorshyn drove his fist into the flat of the blade, shattering the sword. His free arm clubbed across the charging man’s chest, driving his back to the ground.

And now what am I? S’Gorshyn asked before stomping his boot down into his opponent’s face, knocking the man unconscious.

Inept Dragyns, he whispered, before lifting his head and looking up. "You can come out now. Your deliverer and distraction has been dismissed."

S’Gorshyn’s chin moved closer to his chest before he dodged to his left. Another streak moved in front of him, sliding to a stop ten meters from where he had been standing, fading from sight. When it reappeared, the figure was moving again, landing a punch to S’Gorshyn’s chest. Now, the DragoN was flying – back first – away from the leveled shack, landing on the ground and sliding to a stop. He moaned, stunned from the collision his skull had made with a shield.

Coming away from the pile of debris that had been the shack was a man, dressed as a WarrioR, wielding a mace and carrying a shield. His hair was thick, wavy, and a dark brown color; hanging to past the middle of his back.

You almost made me miss! he said, waving his mace in front of him, securing his grip. Well, in fact, I did miss you with the mace. The shield, however, works just as well. So, am I worthy of your drawn arms?

A small white fireball shot from S’Gorshyn’s hand, exploding against the bronze armour chest piece of the second attacker, sending him to the ground.

I’d say you’re more worthy than you might have anticipated, S’Gorshyn commented, slowly getting up to his feet and summoning his pair of hand axes. Sending a Dragyn out to rouse your quarry; that is not a tactic with which I am familiar.

Do not let it bother you, Brother, the man said, getting up. You won’t be alive long enough to regret not learning it.

Approaching the engagement with a degree of ceremonial respect, the two DragoNs bowed at each other before taking their fighting stances. The bronze-armoured man led with a wide, looping swing of his mace. S’Gorshyn ducked and lunged past his opponent; the swipe of his axe was blocked by the man’s shield.

Not bad. I am Halkion Fangblade.

Likewise. S’Gorshyn Thundercall. You’re from Towengull; a student of Master Zursh, right?

I’ve never heard of you, Halkion returned, moving in to attack.

His uppercut swing was side-stepped before S’Gorshyn kicked away his attempt at a spinning shield-bunt. The backhand swing of the mace claimed only air just before both of S’Gorshyn’s axes were lodged deep into his opponent’s chest.

And you never will, Brother, S’Gorshyn said, relieving the man of his mace and shield. As the dying DragoN’s body met the ground, the coloring of the mace and shield conformed to that of their new master. A sapphire formed on the top of the blue-steel mace, and sharp silver-discs lined the edge of the blue round shield. "But it was an honor preparing Zursh for his role as instructor in Towengull. How unfortunate for you he is fond of bragging about all of his students... in full detail."

S’Gorshyn dropped to one knee, lifting his shield to block the descent of a polearm. Tilting the shield, the blue DragoN drove the weapon into the path of a claymore. S’Gorshyn was moved with the force of the blow and thrown well out of the path of the spiked chain that had been swung for his back.

So... shall I tell you... or show you where you went wrong? S’Gorshyn inquired. He was not surprised to see a sigea fly across the throat of one of his opponents. The disc shield ripped across the neck, opening it to a gushing wound. The claymore fell to the ground as the siega flew back to its mistress, landing on Fiarna’s bracer as she emerged from the brush. How silly of me to assume that I would be the only one fighting you.

She is the foul-breed’s Guardian, one of the WarrioRs said to the other. We could fetch ourselves a hefty reward for returning with her!

That one’s mine, Fiarna claimed, pointing at the one who had spoken.

Yes, Terran, I am yours, the man said as his eyes began to glow with MannA, the length of chain taking some of that light. I am your guide to the Next Adventure!

Show me the way! Fiarna said softly, slowly moving into her fighting stance.

S’Gorshyn’s eyes narrowed, lifting his hand toward his opponent. A moment if you please. And don’t act like you’re not the least bit curious to know how this is going to end.

I am curious, the DragoN declared, placing the blunt of his polearm on the ground. Especially with the way that last breeze was not in the direction of the normal wind.

No, Brother... it was not!

The WarrioR began to swing the spiked chain in a circle over his head, rocking his weight back and forth in his bent-knee stance. He smiled coldly, lifting his free hand to give himself balance.

Let us engage! he hissed, taking a lunging step toward the woman.

Fiarna met his approach with her own, sparks firing off her shield, blocking the swing meant for her ribs. As they moved past each other her other arm came up, blocking a back-swing for the back of her head. Then, most unexpectedly, the man squatted and spun, his leg sweeping for her ankles, his chain looking to claim her kidneys. Fiarna met his foot sweep with one of her own. Her instep met his ankle and she kept spinning through the sweep, her sigea blocking the chain. She spun away from her opponent, and back up to her feet, while her opponent tumbled to the ground, grabbing his injured leg.

Impossible! the DragoN gasped.

And yet... we both witnessed it, S’Gorshyn countered. The question you need to ask yourself is this, Brother: on what side of our continuing history do you wish to stand?!

A blindsiding attack for a blindsiding attack, Fiarna explained, paraphrasing an edict of DragoN Combat Tactics each of them knew. That is why your brother is no longer with us. This engagement, however, is not that. Apologize for your inaccurate words regarding my Mistress, and you can walk away from this to fly and weave your grace through the clouds in the MooNs to come.

"Almost perfectly stated, S’Gorshyn thought, remembering the lessons of his masters. But perhaps a bit more poetic than we’re accustomed to saying... or hearing."

They are not pure, Brother! Fiarna’s opponent cried, applying healing spells to his leg. They do not deserve our graces! Destroy them!

Brother! Fiarna shouted, spinning fast before hurling both sigea.

S’Gorshyn took a lunging step toward her, hurling his mace, the sapphire atop the weapon crackling with MannA. The razor-sharp disc shields passed over his left shoulder and under his right armpit. His mace flew past her left ear. Before the thrown weapons could make their return to their masters, the arms and weapon of S’Gorshyn’s opponent fell to the ground along with the DragoN who had been killed by a lightning bolt contained within the mace.

Sister, he said, catching his mace, smiling at the woman. His eyes then moved to his right shoulder. Greetings, Sister Relsentia.

I do not know what to say to you, S’Gorshyn Thundercall, Relsentia said, her body aglow with MannA. I thought we were of the same mind.

I took your words to be the truth, Relsentia, he replied, slowly turning around to look at her. Of the seven she had brought with her, only one other had opted to keep a human form. "I pledged myself to this woman in an effort to save Uniassa, but in the time I have shared in this service, I have come to know your words were, at best, inaccurate. These people do not seek our end... but I do believe you seek theirs.

And I recognize you, Your Majesty, S’Gorshyn said, giving a slight bow of his head. It is good to see you again, King D’Leffior Starcry.

And yet I am greeted with a guarded bow! Are you sure seeing me is a good thing?

I suppose that depends on why you are here.

I am here for Lokbane, D’Leffior stated, waving his hand toward the nearby grouping of trees. I know he is out there, skulking in the foliage, waiting for an opportune time to strike.

Your Majesty, might I suggest that if you are receiving your information from Relsentia that you consider the error I mentioned earlier. For on my honor, I can tell you that he is not here.

Your honor presents itself with every word you speak, son of Thundercall, D’Leffior noted, placing his hands behind his back. Would it cause you to betray your word to this Terran if you were to tell me where Lokbane is?

It would cost me nothing to report to you such things, Your Majesty, S’Gorshyn said with a deep and graceful bow. The fact he inquired about the blue DragoN’s vows was a respect that demanded acknowledgement. I can only tell you what I can calculate.

Then give me that, if you will.

It did not slip the notice of the DragoN King the smile slowly forming on Fiarna’s face as she folded her arms.

Given what I know of the SpellCasteR, he is, at this time, seeking to free his apprentice, the Terran known as Varzanthi.

Impossible! Relsentia barked.

And I have lost count how many times our kind has said that of Lokbane and his students, S’Gorshyn quickly returned. ... only to be found in error time and time again.

D’Leffior sharply lifted his hand towards Relsentia, silencing her retort. I have had enough of your tones in my ears for this moment. I must think. D’Leffior paced for a moment, his hands returned to behind his back.

Honored son of Thundercall, you invoked your honor before.

I did, S’Gorshyn said, bowing. And nothing has changed from that moment.

Then... upon your honor... how does this SorceroR intend to enter a DragoN City and free a prisoner kept there?

Because in your effort to find and trap him, you have already allowed him entry, S’Gorshyn explained. Though I do not believe it is a tried-and-true methodology, on my honor, I do believe Jharsen Lokbane has managed to enchant the visions of this Guardian, as they are linked to her Mistress. His body is not in Dasadra, but I believe his MajiK is!

*     *     *     *     *     *     *

Varzanthi cried out, demanding more out of her body than it had ever delivered. And though she might have attained a strength she had not known she could access; it was not enough to break the chains. Her body gave. The chains kept her from reaching the ground and she moaned from the pain that now registered. Her chest ached but her lungs still strained for air, and she coughed at the tightness in her throat.

Almost! she whispered. I could... almost... feel the links... beginning... to give!

More likely your arms were about to tear away from your body, Jharsen argued.

Varzanthi shook her head before trying to lift her eyes toward the source of the sound. She looked up and saw her mentor standing in front of her. She could see through him, but there was no mistaking the fact that Jharsen had found his way through Dasadra. They’ve done it, she panted. They’ve finally broken me!

Hmmm, as if such a thing were possible, Jharsen said, slowly moving toward the wall where the locking levers were. "I apologize for the length of time this has taken. But it is not every DoaH that one finds himself trying to infiltrate a DragoN City.

I could have truly used my Sword-Arm in this endeavor, he estimated. His brashness might’ve had me here sooner. But you know me; I had to check and recheck everything.

You’re here now, Varzanthi said as the tears formed in her eyes. As my Master would say, that is the important thing.

"I was afraid of this, he thought. I was a fool to think we could shoot right past potential guilt and get on with the business of getting out of here!

Varzanthi–

Leave me, Master! she cried. Leave me to whatever fate the DragoNs have for me!

"Jharsen, you have no cellar, he thought, closing his eyes and casting. Focusing on the emotion on display from his student, he moved to enchant it so that it would take physical form and augment the dream-projection he had constructed. But it is such a crime to let good power go to waste!

"And oh my, that guilt feels too good right now!" he shuddered as the spell was cast. Suddenly his form was solid, and Jharsen wasted no time reaching for and pulling the levers. The shackles opened and as Varzanthi fell to the top of the platform, the column of stone slowly lowered into the floor.

There... you are free!

But I am not worthy of this, Master, she returned, curling up and weeping openly. "I am not worthy of your efforts... your guidance... and the love you gave without measure. You have a wife, a child, and friends... people who love you and want you in their lives. But you are without them, choosing instead to train me.

And what am I?! she shouted.

A bit melodramatic at the moment, Jharsen fenced. He cringed at the next chorus of cries coming from the woman. She pounded her fist down on the rock.

Varzanthi, they found me! Jharsen said and the young woman looked up to see a claw tear into her mentor’s chest!

Master? she called.

The projected image flickered and faded from sight, a small stone falling away from the left hand. It bounced off of Varzanthi’s shoulder and by the time it reached the ground, she was dressed in her weapons and armour.

MASTER!!! Reaching out with her mind, all Varzanthi could detect were the DragoNs approaching the dungeon. All she could feel was her rising fury.

DRAGONS!!! she screamed, her outcry calling her threshold to engage and as it did, the MannA that was sympathetic to her cause lent its power to her as well. Witness what your machinations have wrought! Bow to me, your Queen who sits on a throne of woe!

The door to her cell opened inward and the man opening it was thrown off-balance when the door opened much faster and easier than it should have. He stumbled forward into a sword thrust through his throat.

Mothers, hearken to your prayer-scales, she stormed, stepping out into the corridor, slapping away the spearhead meant for her chest. Her downward swing removed the left arm of the spearman. When the man cried out in pain, Varzanthi removed his head. She walked quickly down the corridor, but she would not run. She was too furious to run. She wanted them to come. It would save her the trouble of ferretting them out.

Feel each one crack as another child is dispatched, she said, walking up the stairs.

She hopped to the inside edge of the winding stairway, a large axe smashing down into the stairway at her side. When the man wielding it started to lift his weapon, Varzanthi grabbed it, forced it back down to the stairs and used it like a pommel horse, swinging her legs over the stalk and scoring two kicks to the man’s face. The first removed his helmet, the second slammed his face into the wall. She lunged forward to grab the man and pull him toward her. Three crossbow bolts lodged into his back.

Varzanthi breathed in sharply, a slender stream of glowing white mist flowing from the dying DragoN into her body. She then thrust him over the open edge, blowing out sharply. A swift, swirling gust flew through the stairway column, making the application of the crossbow unlikely. While that was a boon to her, that was not the reason why the woman had called for the elemental burst. Leaping up from the stairs, she flew to the closest crossbowman, thrusting her sword into his chest. He screamed as she twisted the blade before ripping it free of his body and taking his crossbow. Varzanthi spun on her heels, coming around to aim at the next closest ArcheR. He smiled, throwing down his crossbow and drawing his short swords.

What stops our bolts stops yours! he said, fanfaring the blades. They fell to the ground when the bolts passed through the side of his skull.

"That is how a DragoN shoots a crossbow!" Varzanthi cried, swinging her crossbow up and around. It blocked a sword, driving it wide of her shoulder. The swordsman, having appeared out of nowhere, wielded two blades and was not about to let the blocking of his first weapon take him out of his attack pattern. His second sword came around and Varzanthi barely managed a block.

A cold smile crossed the man’s face. So much for your fury! He pressed his attack, gasping in surprise when his pattern was foiled by the grace of her single blade. They matched each other, spin for spin, swing for swing, for eleven passes.

Yes! Varzanthi cried, her left knee on the ground, her back to the swordsman as her opponent’s blades passed over her head. They both dropped as his body reacted to the gut-thrust he had received. Her withdrawal was merciless, and all of Dasadra felt his passing. For your sakes, I hope that wasn’t the Master of Swordmasters.

She stood up, sheathed her sword, and held out her hands. The dropped blades flew to her palms, the affectations of the swords turning white and platinum. One of the approaching men witnessed the confiscation and stopped cold in his charge.

She assumed his horde! he declared. Without hesitation or difficulty! Only a Royal can do that! As Varzanthi approached, the man dropped to his knees, lowering his head. Forgive me, Your Majesty. I did not know–

I cannot mark your scent, but I will make the assumption that intellectual pursuits are not among your stronger characteristics, Varzanthi hissed, lifting his chin with the tip of her new sword. "That need not be a permanent liability.

Go now. Make sure that your ignorance is not carried by others!

Bowing as he stood up, the man turned and ran from Varzanthi, seeking the most expedient means to alert the DragoNs of this city of the arrival of the Queen.

Varzanthi looked up and struggled to keep the tears at bay. You don’t know yet, she whispered. The man is a master of tricks. He might yet still be alive. With next to no effort, Varzanthi’s boots left the ground and she streaked through the air. Portal smoke took her from inside the mountain to outside, and she turned north, flying as fast as her will could propel her.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *

Jharsen opened his eyes to find himself still on the back of Uniassa as she turned toward the ground, spiraling to the ground far, far below. I’m going to feel that Tur-DoaH, he groaned.

"Then be about the business of making sure we see the next DoaH! Uniassa snapped. Look at the sky, SorceroR!"

By... the... gods! he exclaimed, looking up and back to see a swarm of DragoNs and Dragyns, all looking to be in pursuit of the two of them. Looking at what spelled certain death, Jharsen Lokbane could not keep from cackling.

What amuses you at a time like this?!

I can hear my Sword-Arm, Jharsen admitted. ... asking ‘Do you think it might have been something we said?’ It seems that I have moved into his position and you into mine, my friend.

I hope you can take your levity into the Next Adventure, Master, Uniassa said. I can feel them summoning their MannA. There isn’t a one inept at the craft.

"Of course not, the new King must strike hard and true. Despite what he has learned of Relsentia, he will lean on what she has told him, as it allows him to act without accountability.

Maintain your dive, Uniassa, Jharsen directed. We are far from undone here.

Hrmph! she snorted. The ever-enduring love affair Terrans have with hope!

Something like that, yes, Jharsen smiled, opening his threshold and beckoning MannA’s approach.

What are you going to do, enchant my wings?

Nothing so pedestrian... but let’s hope that your people make the same assumption you just did.

Prepare to match the SorceroR, my children, D’Leffior cried, his eyes glowing with MannA.

Level off now! Jharsen commanded. The moment Uniassa was parallel with the ground, Jharsen lowered his left hand to her back.

He seeks to enchant her wings! one of the DragoNs cried. We should charm the air!

Indeed! Relsentia cried. Let us remind this mortal of the wonder of DragoN-MajiK!

The swarm shared MannA as the spell was cast to charm the winds, tripling the speed of the DragoNs. They laughed as they drew closer to their intended prey.

Your spells don’t fail, Uniassa noted. What are you up to, Master?

Reminding the all-powerful DragoNs that there are greater things in this world than raw power! Jharsen said, opening eyes that glowed brightly with a bronzed electrical fire that seemed to recede into his eyes.

With his hand still on Uniassa’s back, he extended his free hand toward the chasing DragoNs. A bridge of light formed, and each of the chasing DragoNs shuddered, suddenly stunned by an unexpected exchange. The DragoNs in pursuit found themselves struggling to remain in the sky while Uniassa shot forward with such force that she was not truly flying, but slowly tumbling like a hurled ball. She screamed in delight, allowing her body to roll.

Master, what did you do?! she cried.

A simple lesson on inertia, Jharsen replied, using the hood of his cloak to block the sharp winds from his face. I absorbed their momentum and gave it to you. I think I might have overshot, though.

What makes you say that?

In my haste to be rid of them, I targeted everything that was moving.

So?

"Well, technically speaking, energy was moving through their nervous system, Jharsen explained. Their blood was moving through their blood vessels... and their MannA was moving through their thresholds."

Oh, Jharsen! Uniassa grumbled.

Indeed, a miscalculation. One we shall make the most of. How long before we reach the city?

Try looking down, she replied. And a little behind us.

Hmmm, I see. Well, we should land. You need to rest as much do I. Yes, I know, we do not have that much distance between us. But our options are to continue down the rocky coast or find a boat to take us out to sea.

I could do with some time at sea, Uniassa reflected. But what of my Brother and your student?

If they were left to fend for themselves, Fiarna knows my intended destination, Jharsen answered, sliding off of Uniassa’s back. You just remember to stick to the plan. He smiled as the DragoN assumed her Terran form, but became concerned when she did not smile back at him.

The plan is simple enough, she said softly. Just tell me that you’re still hopeful.

Jharsen’s gaze fell to the ground of the back lot in which they had landed. He snorted a laugh, slowly turning to see the recently awakened King of the DragoNs, twenty of his DragoN following – all in human form – weapons drawn and eyes glowing, and thirty Dragyns who could not assume a bipedal from without some assistance, though they could shrink themselves to the size of a Warhorse. Turning his head to look at Uniassa, he gazed into her eyes.

I am a SorceroR. If I find myself without hope, I will simply conjure some. Jharsen nodded his head as he moved away from Uniassa. Shadow MajiKs, he said plainly. You must be very gifted with them.

"Oh, I