The Arcane Ward

by Jeffrey L. Kohanek

  When Thiron slid his longbow from his shoulder, Chuli did the same. Wyck swung his shield from his back and slid it on his left arm before drawing his sword. Rather than draw his belt knife, Jonah unhooked a pack from his horse’s saddle and gave Thiron a nod.

  They advanced slowly with Thiron in the lead, the man kneeling to examine the forest floor every twenty strides. Chuli found herself wishing the clouds would move along and allow the sunlight to sneak back into the woods. Then, she spotted something odd to the southwest.

  “Thiron.” He stopped and turned while Chuli pointed. “Over there. What is it?”

  The man peered with narrowed eyes toward the dark shape. Without a word, he headed in that direction, not making a sound. They circled a massive tree, eight strides in diameter. Deep gouges, each consisting of four parallel lines, marked one side of the trunk. Once past the tree, it became clear that the dark shape was a mound of dirt. Moving slowly, they edged closer until Thiron stopped and stared at the dark maw before them.

  It was a tunnel, twelve feet in diameter, and it angled downward.

  “Hold on,” Jonah whispered as he opened his pack.

  He removed a rock the size of his fist, the rock glowing with a soft blue light. Winding up, he tossed it into the hole. The rock rolled down the hill, its nimbus eating away at the darkness as it advanced. It stopped forty feet away – a beacon of light with darkness beyond it.

  “I wonder how deep it goes.” Jonah muttered.

  Thiron reached behind his back and grabbed three arrows. By the time he glanced at Chuli, she already had her arrows ready, the middle one nocked in her bow.

  Without a word, the man stepped into the hole.

  “We’re going in there?” Jonah asked.

  Wyck nudged Jonah with his shield. “Yes. Now, be quiet.”

  As they crept toward the darkness waiting beyond the glowing stone, terror slipped a noose around Chuli’s throat, tightening the rope as her breathing became ragged. Thiron shifted around the stone while keeping his bow pointed forward. A step behind him, Wyck turned toward Jonah and gestured toward the glowing rock. Chuli shifted to the side so he could pick it up.

  A nightmarish sound came from the forest behind them…a scream in the distance. Chuli spun toward the tunnel opening, a dimly lit doorway to the forest beyond. She turned toward Thiron and found him frowning as his head turned to look deeper into the hole and then back again.

  “I have a bad feeling about this,” Jonah muttered.

  “Out. Now. Run.”

  The words came from Thiron’s lips, and Wyck burst into a sprint toward the tunnel entrance. Chuli glanced at Thiron, hesitating, as did Jonah.

  The man pushed Jonah back. “It’s in the forest. Get out or we’ll be trapped!”

  Jonah scrambled toward the exit, tripping in the process. When Chuli jumped forward to help him, something massive eclipsed the entrance.

  Oversized in every way, a hairy beast with red eyes lunged and swiped at Wyck, slamming him against the tunnel wall. The big man crumpled in a heap, the back of his leather jerkin shredded, as was the flesh beneath it.

  “Shoot!” Thiron cried out as he began to loose arrows.

  Chuli raised her bow and shot in a fast, repeated motion, striking the monster with all three arrows. The beast flinched and snarled but did not retreat. Jonah then stepped past her and threw his glowing rock. It landed near the tunnel mouth and provided light that had been lacking.

  “It’s…it’s a badger.” Jonah said.

  While Chuli agreed that the monster had the appearance of a badger, it was many times the size of a badger. In fact, it was three or four times the size of a bear. She grabbed three more arrows and shot. In seconds, both she and Thiron had the thing’s face full of arrows. The beast darted forward with amazing speed, stepping right on Wyck’s prone form. Desperate, Chuli aimed, fired, and struck the monster in the eye. It stopped just shy of Jonah, who had fallen on his backside. As Jonah scrambled backward, the beast released a massive roar and backed out of the tunnel.

  Chuli watched Thiron, who began to ease forward with his bow ready. She drew another arrow and advanced while Jonah rose to his feet. Her gaze flicked down toward Wyck, whose back was a bloody mess, the bone of one arm poking through his skin. Jonah scrambled past her and knelt beside the injured man. He put his boot against the exposed bone, grabbed the man’s arm and snapped it back. A weak cry of pain came from the man and he fell limp. Still gripping his arm, Jonah closed his eyes, and all fell silent. Wyck’s body shook visibly, his wounds closing as he gasped for air. Without waiting, Jonah withdrew a chunk of glowstone from his pack and began tracing a rune on the man’s shoulder.

  Thiron snuck forward, sliding past Jonah and Wyck, and approached the tunnel entrance. Chuli followed as the rune on Wyck’s arm flamed with red light.

  Emerging from the tunnel, Thiron scanned the area with his bow, ready for movement. The thump of Chuli’s pulse sounded like a drum in her ears as she edged forward. She sensed movement behind her, about to glance back when a dark shape fell from above the tunnel, the beast landing atop Thiron. She fired her arrow at the monster’s backside, and it roared with the ranger pinned beneath it.

  A blur sped past her as Wyck smashed into the beast with a thrust of his shield. The impact launched the gigantic badger across the clearing. It slammed into a tree so hard that the branches, hundreds of feet above, waved wildly. Chuli lowered her bow as Wyck advanced past Thiron’s bloody body.

  The monster rose to its feet and shook its head, the shafts of the arrow in its snout now snapped off, the one in its eye covered in blood. With the remaining red eye narrowed, the monster glared at the approaching warrior and slowly shifted sideways. Wyck crouched and leaped, his magic-enhanced jump arcing thirty feet over the beast. The monster’s head followed the man, spinning to face him, and it attacked when he landed. Wyck raised his shield to block the swipe of a massive paw, each foot-long claw like a curved dagger. The force of the strike sent the man stumbling to the side before he leaped forward and sliced, taking the beast’s fore-foot off clean. The badger howled, the sound a raging trumpet of pain that shook the forest. Wyck struck again, cleaving a three-foot slice along the side of the badger’s neck. The beast stumbled to the ground, and the man leaped toward it with an overhead stab, driving his sword deep into its ribs.

  Wyck staggered backward his chest heaving with each breath as the beast shuddered, groaned, and fell still.

  Jonah ran past Chuli, emerged from the tunnel, and knelt beside Thiron. The man’s face was a bloody mess, his scalp half-torn away, his chest and shoulder torn open.

  “Help me.” Jonah cried as he pushed the man’s scalp back into place.

  Dropping her bow, Chuli scrambled to the man’s other side. “What do I do?”

  “Try to push this wound together. I can heal him if he still lives.”

  Moving quickly, Chuli pushed the damaged flesh back into place. It felt warm and wet to her touch. Blood was everywhere. Jonah closed his eyes while holding the man’s scalp to his head. Nothing happened. The man’s body just lay still beneath her grip. Right when Chuli feared they were too late, the man’s body shook and his back arched for a long moment. He then fell limp, his breath coming in rapid gasps, but he did not wake.

  Jonah sat back and raised a blood-soaked hand to his forehead. He released a sigh, his hand shaking.

  “Are you all right?” Chuli asked.

  Jonah opened his eyes and blinked. “I’m spent…and hungry.”

  Hearing a grunt, Chuli turned to find Wyck standing over them with his bloody sword in hand. “I feel like I could eat that thing we just killed…the entire thing.”

  Jonah nodded. “Yes. Your injuries were significant. That type of healing leaves you hungry. The Power rune should help for a while.” Moving slowly, Jonah stood and wiped his hand on his breeches. “Thiron’s injuries were even worse. He’ll likely not wake for a day or two.”

  “In that case,” Wyck
walked over to the dead badger and wiped his blade clean on the beast’s fur before sheathing it, “I suppose I could carry the man for you. At least until the augmentation fades.”

  With the forest growing darker, and night almost upon them, they returned to where they had left the horses. To Chuli’s horror, corpses waited for them. She said a prayer to the Spirit of Nature, hoping that she would reward the horses with another chance to run upon the plains. Rhychue was missing and had likely fled when the other horses were attacked.

  They retrieved what they could from the torn saddlebags and headed southeast.

  It was a long hike back to Vallerton. When Wyck’s augmentation wore off, they stopped and built a makeshift litter for Thiron, with Chuli and Jonah taking turns helping Wyck carry the man. Through the forest, they trudged until they reached the hills. The forest canopy relaxed as they left the Towers behind for normal-sized trees. Clouds in the sky hid the stars, and Chuli found herself praying that they were heading in the right direction. Their exhaustion grew to a crescendo as they carried the unconscious man up a rise, over a hilltop, and down the backside. The gaps in the trees became wider and a clearing gave them the lift they needed. With their trail rations consumed and hunger still raging in their stomachs, the sleeping town of Vallerton came into view.

  It was well past midnight when they finally arrived at the Wishing Well Inn. As they approached the building, Chuli spotted a dark silhouette standing beside the hitching post. A grin found its way past her weariness when she saw Rhychue sleeping over the water trough.

  11

  Depth of Character

  The pale light of a waning glowlamp lit the corner of the room. Beneath it was a wooden table with four worn chairs, two of which were occupied. Quinn sat on one side of the table, across from the man who had preceded her arrival.

  For this particular mission, she had made an effort to roughen her appearance. Tight breeches and a short sword at each hip joined her drab brown leather jacket – open at the front to reveal a stained tunic beneath it.

  Caught in a conversation that had been going on for several minutes, she turned the man’s question over in her head and gave him a sideways glance, intentionally allowing a moment to pass before responding.

  “Word on the street is that you’re seeking assistance.”

  The man leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. Dressed in a sleeveless black leather jerkin with multiple knives visible and dark bangs hanging over the Custos rune on his forehead, he carried the appearance of a ruffian. His grimace added weight to that image.

  “Why would I need assistance?” Kirk replied. “I’m pretty sure I can take care of myself.”

  Imitating the nonchalant pose she had seen so often from Delvin, she examined her fingernails, rubbing them with her thumb. “Could be that someone of certain skills might be of use to you.”

  That earned her a grunt as the man took a drink of his ale. He put the tankard down and wiped the foam from his lips. “I’m not unskilled myself. There is little I find myself lacking.”

  Frustration began to bubble inside Quinn. “Your pride will do you no good if you are dead or locked up in a cell.”

  Kirk eyed her with suspicion. “How do I know I can trust you?”

  Quinn leaned forward and slammed a leather pouch on the table, the contents inside jingling. The man’s eyes narrowed as he stared at it. He clutched at his hip, feeling for an item that wasn’t there.

  “Is that my coin purse?” he asked.

  “Rather than waste my time talking to you, I could have just left with this. I would be five silvers and a few coppers richer…and you’d be none the wiser.” Quinn sat back and glared at the man. “I’ve spent my entire life doing small jobs, stealing enough to get by. Houses, shops, a drunk in an alley here, a coin purse there. I have yet to be caught. I’m through with just getting by. My sources tell me that you’re planning something significant, and I want in.”

  Kirk took another drink from his mug, his glare never straying from Quinn’s face. When he put the mug down, he leaned forward. “Suppose I decide to entertain this offer, there will be no going back. Once you’re in, you remain in. A change of heart in this case could become fatal…as could being caught.”

  Quinn pressed her lips together and pretended to turn the consequences over in her head. “Life is full of risks. There are seldom guarantees. One thing I can guarantee is that you’ll not find anyone more determined than I am.” She spat in her hand and held it out to the man. “I am committed if you are.”

  He glanced down at her hand, hesitating before spitting in his palm and extending his.

  “Hold on, Kirk.”

  Delvin emerged from the shadows and approached their table.

  “As your partner, I deserve a say in who we accept.” Delvin pulled out a chair and sat, bringing his fingers to his chin as he stared at Quinn. “I have a few questions for the young lady.”

  A frown crossed Quinn’s face. What are you up to, Delvin?

  “What’s your name?” He asked.

  “As I already told Kirk, my name is Kaylin.”

  “And your last name?”

  “Griggs.”

  “Fine, Kaylin Griggs.” He leaned forward. “Where did you grow up? Where do you live now?”

  Quinn responded with confidence. “I grew up in Port Hurns, but I ran away from home when I was fourteen. I lived in Vingarri for a while, then Yarth, and most recently in Wayport.”

  “I also am from Port Hurns.” Delvin shared a sly smile. “Who were the other children you grew up with?”

  Quinn’s frown returned. “I…what?”

  “Your childhood friends. I need their names.”

  Like tendrils of a creeping vine, confusion and doubt spread throughout Quinn’s mind and began to squeeze. She struggled to come up with a response…names…an excuse…something, anything. Her mouth opened and, rather than words, a stuttering groan came out. Delvin sat back, crossed his arms, and glared at her.

  Quinn glanced toward the audience who sat in the shadows – Master Firellus, Master Hedgewick, Everson, and a few fellow wardens-in-training. Her focus returned to Delvin as he rose to his feet.

  “You have talent, Quinn. Your portrayal of a thief-for-hire was solid, and you did well in becoming the character in a convincing way.” Delvin’s eyes were intense, lacking their normal levity. “I need you to take it further. You must completely flesh out your character’s history and consider all possible questions. You must be able to react naturally and not find yourself tripping over your own lies. When in the field, these small things define the line between success and failure. You have valuable skills. I would hate to see you killed because you missed some seemingly innocuous detail.

  “This is why we interrogated you and your brother before you were offered the position of warden. The fact that two siblings in two different schools were both involved with Empire spies just seemed too coincidental. We had to know the truth before we could expose our secrets. Once you and your brother each relayed your tales, it became obvious that they were truly genuine. Even with the truth rune present, there was the chance that cleverly phrased responses would enable you to skirt the truth. However, it is far more difficult to build an entire false life, filled with detail and depth. That detail is what you must strive for with each persona.

  “I’ll assign a new role for you, along with a different scenario and another partner. After you receive your objective, develop your character’s background, personality, history, goals, morals, habits, and anything else that might come into play. Prepare well, for your first mission may come soon.”

  12

  Anyone

  A hammer struck iron in the distance, the ring repeating every other breath. Grinding sounds came from the other direction, joined by the hiss of released steam. Everson ignored the sounds and focused on his project. With gritted teeth, he used the ceramic tongs to place a shard of Chaos-charged rock into place, watching the entire process
through his magnifying spectacles. He then slid the dome of glass over it, careful to align the slots he had ground from the glass so the conductors fit snugly within them. Lifting the goggles to his brow, he stared at his creation and considered how he might test it without risking his life. I will need to do it outside where I won’t destroy anything if things go haywire.

  Everson pulled the goggles off his head and rested them on his workbench. When he stood from the stool, his mechanical legs whirred. A glance to the side revealed Ivy and Henrick working on the modified flyer. Although Everson was confident in their abilities, he moved closer to inspect their work. Despite being two years older, Henrick was forced to follow Everson’s lead, as was Ivy. Both had been brought in as gadgeteers at Everson’s request. Henrick was among the few engineering students from the Academy whom Everson admired. Ivy was among the few whom he trusted, both as a fellow warden and as a friend.

  He squatted beside Ivy, the cylinders of his mechanical legs hissing as air expelled from them. “You’ve done a fine job.”

  The dark-haired girl turned toward him and adjusted her spectacles while a shy smile spread across her face. “Thank you, Everson. I’m glad you approve.”

  Everson put his hand on her shoulder. “You don’t need my approval, Ivy. You’re smart, skilled, and are here on your own merits. I merely pointed them out to people who would listen.”

  She chewed on her lip, her eyes flicking to the side before returning to focus on him. “I want to thank you again for that as well. I never dreamed that a place like this might exist…that I could be part of something so important.”

  “I know what you mean.” Everson looked about the Forge while he spoke. “This building and the things we can create here exceed anything I could have hoped for. Having a greater cause to work toward only makes it that much more grand.”

  Henrick grunted. “When we’re through retrofitting this flyer, I have something of my own I want to work on.”