Chapter 16

The Dura celebrated their victory well into the night. The drinking and laughing and dancing and music emanted from every nook and cranny of the Iron Mountain, shaking it to its roots with the unbridled celebration. Dwarves fought hard, worked hard, and those who were visiting their mountain fortress discovered that they played just as hard. The victory party swept just about everyone up into it, and the raucous celebration extended well into the night.

Of course, everyone celebrated in their own way. Phandebrass spent that celebration studying Dwarves at play, and almost got himself brained by asking so many questions. Sarraya spent it with an absolute orgy of pranking, taking advantage of inebriated Dwarves to vent her need to be obnoxious after days of having to be quite serious. Ulger and Kang spent that celebration quietly sitting at Azakar’s bedside, who had been healed by Miranda, and was now sleeping to recover his strength. Dolanna too spent her celebration quietly watching over Haley, who slept off his own healing.

Tarrin spent that celebration sleeping.

After checking in on Azakar and Haley, Tarrin extricated himself from the Dwarves, having particular trouble getting away from Darax, and retreated to his rooms, where he ensured Mist that he was well, greeted the children, then went straight to his room and went to sleep. And he would not wake up. Miranda was summoned after Mist and Kimmie tried to wake him but failed, but the Wikuni simply patted them on the shoulders and told them that it was nothing serious. He had just expended a tremendous amount of energy, and hadn’t slept for two days, and he simply needed to rest.

The celebration extended into the next morning, and then slowly began to wind down…mainly because a majority of the Dwarves had drank themselves into unconsciousness. That heralded a quiet period in the mountain, as the Dwarves slept off their excesses, then a slow return to normalcy as the Dura picked themselves up off the floors and started cleaning up.

Camara Tal came to Tarrin’s rooms at sunset the day after the battle and found an odd sight, at least to her. Kimmie was sitting at a table reading one of her spellbooks, sipping from a mug that Mist had filled from a teapot…and just seeing two people in Tarrin’s room was odd, for it was usually all but a crossroads of comings and goings of Tarrin’s friends and family. Camara Tal had never looked in on Tarrin’s rooms and only seen just Mist and Kimmie. “Mist,” Camara Tal called. “Where is everyone?”

She pointed to the door to their bedroom wordlessly. Curious, Camara Tal brushed her long black hair from her face, stepped around the table and to the door, then opened it.

Inside, she found a sight that only someone who was close to the Were-cats wouldn’t find strange. Tarrin was asleep, laying on his side and stretched out on a bed that had obviously been magically stretched for him and Mist. Zyri and Jal were laying on the bed with him. Jal awake down by Tarrin’s feet, gently yet carefully playing with the shaggy fetlock on Tarrin’s ankle, while Zyri slept underneath the Were-cat’s massive paw, draped protectively over the young girl who was using his other arm as a pillow, the paw of which dangled over the bed. Tarrin’s wings were still out, and one was laying over his side like a blanket. Forge and Ember were curled up with each other and sleeping on the floor immediately under Tarrin’s arm, and Fireflash dozed atop the wing draped over Tarrin’s side.

Camara smiled in spite of herself. When he was asleep, when he allowed his features to soften, Tarrin Kael was one strikingly handsome fellow, Were-cat or not. When he was asleep, he looked very much like what he was, a young man who had so many burdens placed upon him that sleep was his only refuge from his worries. When he was asleep, he didn’t look anything like what most people imagined him to be, for he looked quite gentle, and cute in an obnoxious, fuzzy, cat-like kind of way.

“Well, I see the kids are taking advantage,” she chuckled. Jal looked up at her, and he blushed a little before waving. “Has he woke up at all?”

Mist came up beside her, shaking her head. “I think the battle really wore him out.”

“I hope you didn’t mind staying behind to babysit,” the Amazon said.

“Someone needed to stay here, and I didn’t mind,” she assured her. “I was here to protect our cubs. Neither of us wanted them left alone.”

“Our cubs?” Camara asked, then she laughed quietly, so as not to wake Tarrin. “I hope you can tolerate having two humans running around, Mist.”

“They’re growing on me, Camara,” Mist admitted. “They need someone in their lives right now, and I won’t mind being one of the things they need. I’ll have to learn how humans bring up cubs, though. I won’t raise them in our culture and then set them loose in the human world. It’s not seemly.”

“I’m sure Tarrin knows all about that.”

“I’m counting on that,” she agreed. “Sometimes I forget he wasn’t born Were.”

“I think we all do. They’re going to love Tarrin’s house,” she chuckled.

“I’m worried more about how well they get along with the other parts of the family. I still haven’t quite figured out how we’re going to introduce them to Sapphire.”

Camara Tal put her hand over her mouth to stifle the sound of her laughter. “Neme’s breastplate, I forgot about that. Well, I’m sure as long as you go slow, they’ll adapt. After all, they got used to us.”

“Children adapt faster than adults,” Kimmie noted from the table. “Did you come for your lesson, Camara?”

“Yah, but it seems it’s cancelled today,” she grunted, looking at Tarrin. “He’s in no condition to learn right now.”

“What have you been teaching him?”

“Priest magic,” she answered. “All of it, including those spells he can’t cast. He specifically asked for those.”

“Why does he want to learn it? Has he told you?”

“He’s told me what he wanted me to hear, yeah,” she grunted. “He said it’s so he can recognize anything that this One might cast and have an edge. I think he has another reason, though.”

“What?”

“I’m not sure yet,” she answered.

“He’s been studying every spell in his spellbook too,” Kimmie related to them.

“Yah, and that has something to do with what he’s learning from me,” Camara Tal said with a frown. “Sometimes during our lessons, he starts spouting that gibberish you Wizards use to cast spells.”

Mist snorted. “He’s trying to learn the languages, fool females,” she said gratingly. “He told me that a while ago. He’s trying to understand the languages of those two magicks.”

“Is he nuts?” Camara Tal exclaimed in a harsh whisper. “No mortal can comprehend the language of the gods!”

“And if he thinks he can make any sense out of the language of magic, I’m afraid I didn’t teach him half as well as I thought I did,” Kimmie said with pursed lips. “The language makes absolutely no sense at all. Wizards have literally driven themselves insane trying to comprehend it.”

“Be that as it may, he’s still trying,” Mist told them.

“Why?” both asked.

“He thinks that the closer he is to understanding the languages, the more power and control he’ll have over the magic. I didn’t really understand his explanation, it was way over my head. My mate is much smarter than me,” she admitted honestly.

“Actually, that’s not a bad approach,” Kimmie speculated after a moment of thought. “In a way, he’s right. If you can understand the langauge of magic, maybe that would give you more definite control of the power. After all, the words shape the magic. The more control you have over the words, the more control you have over the magic.”

“I don’t understand, but then again, I’ve never much been interested in it,” Mist said.

“Language is a metaphor,” Miranda said from behind them. They turned to look at her as she stepped into Tarrin and Mist’s apartment. “It’s a metaphor for the way one thinks. In a way, it’s a metaphor for who a people are. The language of the gods, and the language of magic, they’re just metaphors for what the magic is, and who the gods are. Understand the metaphor, and you understand the meaning behind it.”

“But what difference does that make?” Mist asked.

“Knowledge is power, my friend,” Miranda told her. “Probably the greatest power that we puny mortals could ever wield.”

“Metaphor. I hear that word over and over. Tarrin once told me that his wings were just a metaphor. That, in a way, they didn’t really exist.”

“They are. They’re an expression of something beyond this world trapped within the confines of this world. Tarrin deals with that power by using metaphor to comprehend it. What he thinks of as, say, moving his wing, it’s just a metaphor for what he’s really doing. It’s something that even he doesn’t completely understand. After all, he can’t. His mind is mortal, and it’s controlling power it can’t comprehend.”

“If it’s beyond our understanding, how do you understand it?” Kimmie asked.

“I don’t, really,” Miranda said with a wink and a grin. “My mother explained it to me as best she could, but remember, it’s like a parent trying to explain something complicated to a toddler. No matter how patient they are, you’re just trying to explain something that the child can’t understand. So she dumbs it down for me.” She motioned at Tarrin. “Tarrin has the same problem. He’s trying to touch on power beyond his comprehension. He’s managed to learn a few tricks, but he’s capable of much, much more. He could have destroyed the entire invading army by himself, you know. Easily. Locked in that unassuming, furry body is the power to destroy the world,” she said with a sigh. “And that’s why the Elder Gods refuse to let him come home.”

“Foolishness,” Mist snorted. “After everything he did, they should know to trust him by now.”

“But they don’t know him, Mist,” Miranda said seriously. “Only Niami does. The Elder Gods are like the Hierarchs, in a way. They’re aware of him, but they refuse to acknowledge him, because doing so is admitting that he’s there. All they see is his violent demeanor and the glaring fact that he has killed a god, and is capable of killing a god. They can’t see anything past that.”

“Then that’s what needs to be fixed,” Mist stated.

“No, Mist, what needs to be fixed isn’t their understanding of him, what needs to be fixed is their fear of him. They understand him well enough, they’re just so afraid of him that they won’t look at anything else.”

“And what can we do about that?”

“Nothing,” Camara Tal answered, looking at Tarrin. “There’s nothing we can do. The only one who can fix that is Tarrin.”

He knew they were there, but he couldn’t hear them.

Tarrin drifted in a dark void of dreamless sleep, but in other ways, he was completely aware and alert. He was aware and alert because in his unconscious state, he was much more susceptible to hearing the voices of the other gods of Pyrosia. They had waited a long time for him to reach this state, to be able to speak to him without shouting, and even then only be heard as whispers, as murmurs. When the mortal mind was asleep, when it shunted aside mortal conceptions and perceptions, it was more in tune with that world within a world which was the world in which the immortals moved, a world that the mortal mind could not comprehend, could not see, but came closer to touching when asleep. In his sleep, he became closer to the voices of the gods, and they were able to communicate clearly and lucidly with him.

In his sleep, he was able to talk to them, to explain what was going to happen. They did not like it. They thought that there had to be another way, but in the end, they couldn’t argue with the results of his intended plan. Even if he failed, the Demon Lord would be dealt with, one way or the other.

But there were other matters, ones that troubled him, and one of them lay under his paw. Asleep, more in tune with his own power, his touch on Zyri allowed him to sense that power that was inside of her, that power he sensed the very first time they touched, that power that he couldn’t understand. Well, he understood it now.

It was the touch of Niami.

Zyrilen was a Sorcerer.

The why of it was pretty straightforward, he realized after thinking it over. There were Sorcerers here long ago, and they managed to live for several hundred years. It was only expected that they would reproduce, and that introduced the hereditary power of Sorcery into the humans of Pyrosia. But, since the power that fueled that ability did not exist in this world, it had no expression…it remained dormant. Zyrilen could trace her lineage back to one of those katzh-dashi who had come to this world with the Dwarves, and that power had been passed down from parent to child for thousands of years, a hidden, sleeping power that had no way of expressing itself, so it continued to sleep.

No…it didn’t. It was so clear to him now, and it struck him like someone hitting him in the head with a rock. That power didn’t sleep…it adapted.

That was why he could feel it when they used their power. That was why it seemed so hauntingly familiar.

The powers of the Elementalists had their roots in Sorcery.

It was so clear to him now. The power of the Elementalist reached directly into the Elemental Planes…but that was something that Sorcery could also do. Sorcery was, by its very nature, elemental magic. Its spheres dealt with the four elements of nature and the three elements of intelligence. Earth, air, fire and water. The mind, the power of the gods, and the power which joined them all together. Da’shar could reach directly into the Elemental Planes and call forth the spirit of a denizen there, summon it to this world to aid him in a task. What the Elementalists did was somehow use their natural aptitude to reach directly back into that plane and draw forth its might to fuel their magic. It was not Sorcery, but Sorcery was the root of that power. The power had been changed by this world, had been changed by the marching of the years, by the steady evolution that came about as a race reproduced over time. Just as the Ungardt had become progessively taller and taller with each generation, the power of Sorcery changed from generation to generation as it continued to be passed down, but found no way to express itself. The touch of Niami was a vibrant thing, seeking release, seeking a way to make itself known. That was why Sorcerers had to be trained, because that power always found a way to show itself among those with it, and once released, it could never be bottled up again. The touch of Niami had adapted to the lack of her presence, had adapted to this world and had learned to reach directly into a place where it knew there to be power, a place it had the power to touch.

The Elementalists were the descendants of the Sorcerers, with different powers, but powers based upon the Sorcery that was brought into this world so many years ago. Similar enough for a Sorcerer to sense its use.

Zyri and Jal…brother and sister, one was a remnant of a lost people, the other the product of that people’s desire to continue to live. They were the symbols of that power, the symbol of everything this world was, what it had been, and what it could be once again.

It was that feeling of a guiding force again, he was sure of it. Since he arrived, he’d had the feeling that he was being pushed, almost herded, led down a specific path by forces beyond his control and understanding. Zyri’s secret played right into that suspicion…here she was, a Sorcerer, seemingly deliberately placed into his path as if he had been meant to find her, and then to take her in and take care of her. If not for the fact that the future was not set, he would almost be tempted to say that it was fate, or destiny…but those things didn’t exist. The only future there was was the future of possibility, not of certainty. The actions of mortals were dynamic and changing, and those free-willed decisions shaped the future around them, causing it to change. Kikkalli was the only god on Sennadar who had the ability to look into those many possibilities and predict possible outcomes, in a way predicting the future, but even her readings were often incorrect because of the fickle nature of the mortals populating the world.

Was it him? He hadn’t sensed the Sorcery within his own children, and now he hadn’t understood the truth of Zyri until now. After all, he’d be blind not to see it, now that he was looking at her. Her power was incredible. She wasn’t as strong as him, or Jasana, but she would be a match for any Sorcerer on Sennadar. It was recessed, completely dormant inside of her…she had never come close to touching it, and from the feel of it, she was not ready. Was his inability to realize Zyri’s power more about him than it was about her?

It was certainly possible.

But that was a matter for another time, and for another person. When Zyri went to Sennadar, Niami could sort her out. He would be too busy here to be able to deal with it.

He drifted back up into the layers of mortal consciousness, and then opened his eyes. Doing so reminded him that tomorrow, they would all be gone, back to Sennadar, and there would only be him and Dolanna left. This would be his last day with them—evening, actually—and he had to make it count. There were so many things left for him to do before they were gone, several loose ends to tie up, affairs to put into order before his friends and family went home…a home he didn’t think he’d ever see again. Even if he survived this, the Elder Gods would not allow him to return…and he wasn’t sure he was willing to attempt it, put his children in danger because of him.

Come what may, he knew deep within himself, he knew he would never see his home again. And as much as it pained him to admit it, it was the way things were, and there was nothing to be done about it.

He looked down on Zyrilen—Zyri, only her mother called her by her full name—and saw the truth of her for the first time. Behind that dark hair, that slim, slender face, that gangly frame that was halfway between girl and woman, there was…power. She was sleeping, and her small face, showing hints of the beauty she would possess when she matured, was reposed and peaceful. Gone was that ever-pursed little mouth, always worried over this or that, and the drawn brows as her clever little mind took everything in and analyzed it, leaving behind a young lady that was a closed flower, just waiting to open and display her beauty to the world.

She opened her eyes. Dark eyes looked into his own without expression, looked deeply into them, and within those brown eyes he saw everything that she was. He saw her determination to protect her brother, her devotion to him and Mist, who she now saw as her parents, her loyalty to family—even Telven, who had betrayed her—and her desperate need to be loved and protected, even as she tried to provide that same love and protection to her brother. She was a child trying to act the adult, but craving the very thing she tried to provide. He saw an intelligence in her that was exceptional, and a desire to make him and Mist proud of her.

And tomorrow…she would be gone. Gone to Sennadar, gone away from this place, gone to safety and under the watchful eyes of Niami.

Gone from him.

And she would be better off for it. What was coming…he wanted her far away from it.

She looked into his eyes, and spoke in a soft whisper that one word that never failed to please him most, the one word that defined him more than any other; more than Sorcerer, more than sui’kun, more than Were-cat, more than Mi’Shara…even more than demigod.

“Father.”

With the gentlest of smiles, he took his massive paw from her, and tapped her lightly on the nose with his finger, which made her giggle reflexively as she flinched away.

“Tarrin,” Mist called as she moved into the room. She sat down on the edge of the bed and took his paw in hers as he sat up, dislodging both Zyri and Jal, as Fireflash deftly climbed up to his shoulder as he moved, then nuzzled his neck fondly after he was upright. He shivered his wings and pushed them back, then snaked his tail out from under him and hooked Jal with it, pulling him up against his side as Zyri hugged his waist on the other side. “Are you alright? You were asleep for a long time.”

“I’m fine,” he answered evenly, looking past her to Kimmie, Camara Tal, and Miranda. “How are Haley and Zak?”

“Haley’s up and about, but Zak’s not going anywhere soon,” Miranda answered. “He’s confined to his bed until we leave, and even then he won’t be out of it for long.”

“Did you heal him?”

She nodded. “That wound was mortal, Tarrin, and even my healing can only go so far. He’ll be weak as a kitten for at least a week. Five days,” she corrected quickly, with a cheeky grin. “When it’s time for us to go, we’ll drag him out of bed and help him through the gate, and then have a Sorcerer immediately Teleport him back to the Tower and tuck him safely back in bed.”

He nodded, stroking Fireflash’s scales as the drake continued to nuzzle him. “I have to contact Niami. Miranda, you have to get your mother’s attention. I have to talk to her.”

“Tomorrow at sunset, we leave,” Miranda told him. “I already managed to get in contact with my mother, and she relayed the messages. The Elder Gods will lower the barriers stopping Phandebrass from using his gate spell at sunset tomorrow, and they’ll only be down for five minutes. Phandebrass must cast the spell as soon as the sun’s lower edge touches the western hills, and everyone has to be through the gate before it disappears behind the horizon.”

“Well, it seems I don’t have to talk to her after all,” he chuckled. “Does he have the diamonds he needs?”

Miranda nodded. “Darax found suitable components, and Phandebrass has the spell memorized. We’re ready.”

He looked down at Jal’s beaming face, and patted his back fondly. “Alright cubs, I need to get up now. I have quite a few things to do, and time’s running short. You two need to go to bed.”

“Are you alright, Father?” Zyri asked.

“I’m fine, little bit.”

“Why were you asleep for so long?”

He snorted. “I was having something of an argument with the gods of this world,” he answered her. “When I’m asleep, they can speak clearly to me. I was asleep for so long because there were many things that we had to work out about what’s going to happen, and warn them about the possibilities if things go wrong. They’ll be ready for it.”

“That’s a conversation I’d love to have been able to overhear,” Kimmie chuckled. “What were they arguing about?”

“Nothing that concerns you, Kimmie,” Tarrin said, looking her directly in the eyes. “Nothing that really concerns me either.” He got up, produced his golden charm from the elsewhere, and deliberately affixed it to the back of his amulet. “Bed. Now,” he ordered the children, pointing towards the door. “I won’t be here tonight, Mist. I have things to do.”

“What do you need to do, my mate? We might be able to help,” she offered as she beckoned to the children.

“Nobody can help me with this,” he told her. He motioned to the fireplace, and caused a fire to blossom into being within it, which burned happily without fuel. He closed his paw around empty air, and his sword appeared in his paw, which immediately erupted into flame along its blade. His wings flared with light, as if responding to the fire of the blade, the flicks of flame that looked so much like feathers began to writhe and shimmer within his wings.

“What are you doing?” Kimmie asked.

“Preparing for the worst,” he answered cryptically.

“You’re not going to tell us, are you?” Camara Tal said accusingly.

“No.” He gestured to the fire, which caused it to expand in size and grow hotter, until the flames were disappearing into the chimney. “I’ll be back around noon tomorrow. Just get everyone ready to go, and I’ll see you then.” He gave them a glance, his eyes full of both concern and fear, and then he stepped into the fire in the grate and vanished. The fire quickly dwindled down to a weak ball of flame that hovered over the grate, but did not disappear.

“I, um, hope he realizes he just took Fireflash with him,” Kimmie said hesitantly. “Well, that was abrupt,” she announced in a more stable voice, clapping her paws, which made Forge and Ember look up at her. “Now what do we do?”

“We wait,” Mist shrugged. “Tarrin knows what he’s doing. We just wait for him to come home. Alright, cubs, off to bed with you.”

“If Father won’t be home til noon tomorrow, he won’t have time to say goodbye to everyone,” Zyri fretted.

“Something tells me he prefers it that way,” Miranda said quietly, looking at the flames in the fireplace, crossing her arms beneath her breasts and shaking her head, the large poof of hair that perpetually hung over her eyes bobbing with the motion.

“What troubles you, Miranda?” Camara Tal asked as Mist herded the children back into the common room.

“I, I don’t know,” she said. “I think I missed something here, but I’m not sure what it was. Something important.”

“What do you mean?”

“Something happened in this room, something important,” she said. “I can almost feel the last vestiges of it fading away. And I don’t know what it was, or what it means.” She blew out her breath. “And in my line of work, that could get me so fired.”

“By who?” Camara Tal chuckled. “Kerri, or your mother?”

“Both,” she answered with a wink. “I’ll have to think about it. Maybe it’ll come to me later tonight.”

“I’ll get you drunk. That always helps me remember.”

“Ah, no,” Miranda protested with a chuckle. “You might just be trying to get me drunk to have your way with me.”

“Pff, you’re too scrawny to be much fun,” Camara Tal retorted, which made Miranda laugh.

They all waited for noon like it was the stike of the bell that would herald the end of the world.

An hour before noon, they all started gathering in the apartment that Darax had set aside for Tarrin and Mist, even Azakar, who had convinced Miranda to allow him to rest on one of the couches in the common room. They talked and laughed as more and more people joined them, including some of the lesser known friends of Tarrin. They also took that rare opportunity to get to know Zyri and Jal, who sat near Mist as if she would protect them from all the attention. Zyri handled it better than Jal, who was an extremely shy child, who spent most of that time all but hiding under Mist’s protective paw.

A half hour before noon, Darax arrived and politely included himself in the gathering, sporting bandages here and there and a nasty cut on his cheek that would turn into a rather striking scar. He showed no aftereffects of all the ale he’d drank the night before, his eyes bright and his demeanor animated, almost excited like a child. Darax’s stand at the center of the line had been a suitably noble and heroic thing for a Dwarf to do, and had earned him a solid spot among the ranks of the most courageous of the Duran kings. There would be a statue of Dain Darax of the Dura out in the city one day, that was guaranteed.

At precisely noon, the fire in the grate swelled, and then roared to life. A silhouette appeared, wavering and indisctinct in the flames, but it became quite apparent who it was after mere seconds. Fireflash burst from the fire first, lancing into the room and almost crashing into Binter’s head, causing him to swerve around and circle the room before landing on Zyri’s shoulder. The drake elicited quite a few looks and gasps, for his scales were awry, there was dirt and smoke and blood all over him, and he’d obviously been injured at some point. But he seemed quite energetic, almost bubbly, cooing and nuzzling Zyri’s neck with wild abandon.

“What in the furies happened to you, Fireflash?” Mist demanded, but her tone was half-hearted, for every eye was locked on that image within the fire.

Tarrin Kael stepped out of the fire slowly, and from the appearance of his left foot, it was apparent that he was an absolute mess. As more and more of him became visible, it was more and more obvious. Blood, mud, dirt, smoke, ash, and things best left unidentified coated him like batter, and his clothes were shredded and all but hanging to him by bare threads.

“Tarrin!” Mist called in alarm. “What did you do?”

Tarrin gave her a penetrating look, his right arm still in the fire. “I had a loose end to attend to,” he stated flatly, then he yanked his right arm out of the fire.

Along with it, trembling with terror, was a very clean, very unharmed, and very terrified Telven.

The boy crashed to the floor in front of the Were-cat and immediately started whimpering, crawling away from him. “Telven!” Zyri gasped, then she bolted from the couch and slid on her knees up to him, putting her hands on him, then hugging him fiercely. “Father, what did you do to him?” she asked him, looking over his shoulder and at Tarrin.

“Tell her, Telven,” Tarrin said in a steely tone.

“He—he—he—he burned up Dengal!” Telven stammered in horror.

“Dengal?” Dolanna asked.

“What used to be Dengal,” Tarrin growled. “Tell her. Tell her what they were about to do before I stopped them.”

“They accused me of being a witch,” he said in a tiny voice.

“Accused?” Tarrin said in a dangerous tone. “It turns out your brother here is a witch, little bit. He’s an Earth Adept.”

“I am not a witch!” he screamed suddenly, almost hysterically. “I am not Defiled! I walk the path of the light! All praise the One!”

Telven was about to say more, but Zyri slapped him across the mouth. She was not gentle. Telven’s head snapped to the side, and he looked at his sister in shock, as if she had just grown another head.

“Don’t even say that around me, Telven!” she said angrily. “Do you know what the One has done? Do you have any idea what kind of evil he’s brought into the world? It’s all been a lie, Telven! Everything we’ve been told is a lie! If there’s anything evil or Defiled on this world, it’s the One!”

“Dengal?” Dolanna asked Tarrin, glancing at the children.

“Gone,” he answered in a tightly controlled voice. “I burned it to the ground. Little bit, take him to Shara,” Tarrin told Zyri. “She’s an Earth Adept as well. She can force him to see the truth.”

“I am not a witch!” Telven screamed.

Zyri hit him again…but hit was a woeful understatement for what she did to him. Telven’s head rocked as Zyri flat-out punched him dead in the jaw, knocking him onto his back. “They ARE NOT WITCHES!” she screamed at the top of her lungs. “Don’t you dare call our father a witch ever again!”

“No, Zyri,” Tarrin said in a low voice, but a voice those who knew him knew very well…it was the voice of a Were-cat on the verge of an explosion. “I didn’t save Telven to bring him back. It’s all I can do right now not to rip his head off,” he said, holding up a trembling paw. “I saved him because I knew it would cause you pain if he died, and for no other reason. Shara and Lorak can find a place for him, as long as it’s nowhere near me.”

“I—Father, you don’t mean that, do you?”

“He means it, cub,” Mist said grimly. “I wouldn’t have that lying backstabber under my roof either. He’ll find no place with me.”

“Are we taking him back to Sennadar?” Kimmie asked hesitantly.

Tarrin considered it, fixing a baleful gaze on the dazed boy. “He can come.”

“Well, if it’s a place the boy needs, I know just where to put him,” Ulger spoke up. “The Academy’s always looking for scullery boys and stablehands. Maybe some good honest work will make him see the error of his ways. And of course, maybe some exposure to the truth will change his mindset.”

“And he’d be where Zyri could at least visit,” Azakar added. “Since she’ll be at your house, there’d be a way for her to get back and forth.”

“You wouldn’t object to that, would you Tarrin?” Ulger asked. “After all, you outrank me.”

“Actually, I think that’s a good idea,” Tarrin said with a nod. “Darvon can pound some sense into his thick skull, or kill him trying.”

“Who will train his abilities?” Dolanna asked.

“We could ask Shara,” Haley proposed.

“She’d probably accept, she would,” Phandebrass said. “I say, she’s talked a great deal about seeing Sennadar since I started describing it to her, she has.”

“Zyri, take him to Shara,” Tarrin commanded, pointing at Telven. “And tell her that she’d better pack. She will be going to Sennadar.”

“Lorak’s gonna object,” Ulger chuckled.

“He won’t object after I gut him,” Tarrin said in a tight voice. “All of you need to get ready to go,” he ordered.

“We’re ready already,” Camara Tal snorted. “We’re just waiting, and of course, we can’t leave without having some time with you.”

“Let me get cleaned up, and we’ll have the rest of the afternoon,” he told her.

Sometimes, the wild swings of mood in Tarrin surprised even those who knew him best.

After being one step from killing Telven in his apartment, it was as if he’d switched off all that aggression immediately after the boy was removed from the room, and he became warm and intimate. Miranda healed both him and Fireflash of their injuries, and after cleaning himself up and changing into new clothes, he did indeed give them all of his time and attention. Despite the shortness of time, he found a way to spend private, quiet time with every single one of them, even Kang. During those visits, he said his farewells, listened to stories, laughed, drank, joked, and reminisced. Every one of them that came away from this goodbye visit had a strange feeling, and they talked about it among themselves.

It was a strange feeling. They knew Tarrin well, they knew he was saying goodbye. All of them knew that he thought that what he had planned was probably going to kill him, and that he was saying goodbye in a way that made it feel like it was the last…just in case it was. But there was more to it. There was a sense of, finality in his tone, his words. It unsettled them, more than a little bit, because there seemed to be a sense about him that he held no hope of coming out of this alive, and what was more, that he did not care.

And that was the paradox. They saw him with Mist, with the children, and they saw a Were-cat who was very concerned for his future, yet he talked as if this would be the last day he would ever see them. He talked of things he had planned for the house, about how he wanted to breach the idea to open the Tower up to other orders to Jenna and the Goddess, that it might be a good idea to start a university dedicated to the study of Arcane magic on the Tower grounds, that having Wizards on the grounds solidly allied to the katzh-dashi would be a very, very wise thing to do. He talked of expanding Kimmie’s tower at his house, and of building a new barn on the north side of the meadow…then they would remember how he spoke, as if he would never see those places again. It confused them, made them unsettled, but they would not show that to Tarrin. Not now, not today, not during his last hours with them before they returned to Sennadar, and he and Dolanna remained behind to undertake their most dangerous task.

But it wasn’t all happiness and joy, it was also business. Tarrin sat in as Bragg and Kang went over the maps with Darax and Lorak, as they explained what they had in mind. They would march out of the Iron Mountain and head south, then meet the Elaran armies south of the mountains, on the plains north of Pyros. From there they would spread out in a two-pronged invasion designed to overtake and capture every large human city on Pyrosia. The Elara would go south and east, the Dura would go west and southwest. If Tarrin’s plan worked and the vast majority of the Demons were trapped in the ruins of Pyros, they would only be facing human opposition and what few Demons might be among them. If Tarrin failed, then the Dura would abandon the Iron Mountain and take refuge on Elara, where they would join forces and defend the inhabited moon’s gate for as long as they could, as the sages searched for a way to block the gate.

Either way, Tarrin and Dolanna would be trapped in Pyros, for it was their task to contain the Demons.

Dinner that evening was both joyous and somber, an odd mix of emotions for everyone involved. They had accepted Darax’s invitation to a dinner in the main hall, as a farewell to his leaving people and a chance for him to say goodbye in his own way, and Tarrin accepted. The Dura picked to go to Sennadar and wait out the coming war were not happy to be leaving, and that put an unfriendly pall on the affair, but there was an excitement about the chance to visit the place where their people had come from, and they’d promised to seek out the lore of their ancestors and bring back as much information as they could. For this reason, many of the Dwarven sages and several Priests were also going, turning the excursion into a mission of recovering history as much as it was a way to sustain the Dwarven race in case of a cataclysm.

Tarrin sat at Darax’s table throughout dinner and said very little, just kept his chin on his paws and stared into space, eating very little, with a thoughtful look on his face. He listened without comment as Darax retold the tale of the battle outside the Iron Mountain, as the young king rather modestly played down his own contributions as he lavished praise upon praise on the Shadows, Phandebrass, and Dolanna and Kimmie, and recited the tale as if the spirit of Dumathoin had risen from the depths under the mountain and imparted his strength into the Dura and their allies…and perhaps he was right. Darax had shown almost legendary courage and fortitude by holding the center of the line, resisting the push of the Demons like a rock that parted the sea’s crashing waves. Maybe Dumathoin did grant the king of the Dura a little extra courage for that battle. There were some things that gods did without the knowledge of their mortal followers…and sometimes that was for the best.

After dinner, Tarrin found himself with a moment of quiet contemplation, standing on a balcony in Darax’s palace that looked down over a bustling with the departing Dwarves, as they finalized their plans and those who were leaving went to go move their things outside, to where Phandebrass would create the gate that would send them to Sennadar. He envied them for the journey ahead of them, one that would begin with fear and anxiety, but would end in excitement as they traced the lineage of their ancestors and discovered the truth about the Duthak, about their glorious and rich history, and be amazed at how the world to which they were going would respect and honor them…the long-lost descendants of the Duthak, the race that saved the world by sacrificing themselves.

As she usually managed to do, Camara Tal found him. Him and the High Priestess of Neme had always had a rather complicated relationship. There was a closeness between them that existed on a different level than with his other friends. She understood him in ways that most others did not, not even his mates, understanding him on a level more akin to his sisters than his friends. Yet she kept a certain distance away from him, giving nothing more than what he wished from her, displaying a patience and understanding that came with the wisdom of being a god’s highest ranking Priestess. Neme had chosen well when she called Camara Tal to her order, for the Amazon’s greatest trait wasn’t her skill, or her intelligence, it was her compassion. Camara Tal was a nurturer, who made everyone around her live up to their utmost potential. It just wasn’t very evident within her, hidden behind a gruff personality and rather arrogant social customs.

She leaned on the rail beside him, then nudged him with her hip. “Heavy thoughts?” she asked.

He leaned on the rail with her, glancing at her. “You know it,” he answered. “Looking forward to going home?”

“I won’t be there long,” she answered. “Kang is raising an army to come back here and help the Dura and Elara. I’m going to be in it.”

“Ah, yes, I remember him mentioning that. I’m not sure he’s thought it through. For instance, how is he getting back home?”

“Miranda.”

“I don’t think she can move an entire army into the Astral, Camara. And did anyone ask her if she wanted to return?”

“He’ll figure it out,” she chuckled. “Kang doesn’t want to leave things to Darax. He wants to help. I guess in his heart, he’s a big softie.” She sighed. “They have no idea, do they?”

“Who?”

She looked at him.

“Oh. No, I suppose not. There’s no real way to tell them, Camara,” he sighed, looking at his paws. “There was a time not long ago when I thought that just because I was different, that I could make it not matter. That I could go on living my life and ignore what I was, and that if I ignored it well enough, then everyone else would too, and they’d leave it be. But I was wrong. Niami is risking the wrath of her parents and the other Elder Gods for what she’s doing, not to mention the damage she’s doing to the orders of the Younger Gods. All of that chaos, and all because of me, and it’s happening no matter how much I deny the truth.”

“And what truth is that, Tarrin?”

“That I don’t belong here,” he answered tonelessly. “I don’t belong anywhere anymore, Camara. I can’t pretend to be something I’m not, but I can’t be more than what I am. I’m stuck in the middle between two different worlds, and neither of them want me.”

“I don’t have any answer for that, old friend,” she answered. “All I can really say is that you’ve never been one to just accept things. There’s a place for you, Tarrin…maybe it’s just a matter of making it.”

“Are you suggesting I take on Ayise head to head?” he asked slyly.

“Even an Elder Goddess can be a stubborn ass,” she said bluntly, which made Tarrin burst out laughing.

“If she heard you say that, she might strike you dead,” he told her.

“Possibly, but sometimes that’s what it takes to make someone see the truth.” She looked up. “I hate seeing that ceiling. I want to see the stars, even if they are unfamiliar.”

“You will soon,” he told her. “How much more time til sunset? Three hours?”

“About that,” she answered. “So…how long do you think it’s going to take?”

“For what?”

“Until the Dura and Elara conquer Pyrosia, and they’re ready for you and Dolanna to release the Demons.”

“Knowing Bragg, not long,” he answered. “The forces of the One will be disorganized, and they’ll be easy marks. Bragg will trample them on his march across the continent.”

“That’s good. I must admit, the idea of you and Dolanna trapped inside with the Demons doesn’t sit well with me. In fact, it worries me.”

“We’ll be fine,” he said quietly. “The Demons won’t be able to touch us.”

“But it’s a prison,” she said grimly. “And I hate the idea of you and her being trapped inside.”

“It won’t be long, Camara.”

“Well, the idea that you’re not going to mind being imprisoned concerns me, Tarrin.”

“It bothers me a great deal,” he answered. “But it’s what has to be done. And it won’t be for long.”

“You seem sure of that.”

“I’m positive.”

“Ah. So, there’s the plan, then there’s your plan,” she said with a sly smile.

“And you expected something less?”

“No, I suppose not,” she chuckled.

“Their plan will work out quite well with mine,” he told her. “But if my plan works, they’ll have it easy.”

“Why, what will happen?”

“Something that won’t concern you,” he said crisply.

She chuckled. “Alright, alright, I get it.”

He was quiet a long moment. “There’s something I want you to do, Camara.”

“Anything, Tarrin.”

“When you get back home, have my sister get in contact with Spyder, and arrange a meeting. When you see her, I want you to give her this.”

Tarrin handed Camara Tal a tiny shard of crystal, the size of a child’s finger. Within it was a flaw, two tiny cracks that ran almost the entire length of the crystal’s octohedral form, like two pyramids stacked base to base.

“What is this, Tarrin?” she asked.

“Spyder knows what it is, and she’ll know what to do with it. It’s important, Camara. You have to get this to Spyder as quickly as you possibly can.”

“Why not have someone else do it?”

“Because they will take you seriously,” he answered. “If you say it’s important, then it’s important. You have to get that to Spyder within a day of getting back, Camara. My life, and Dolanna’s life, might depend on it.”

“I—ohhhhhhhhhhh,” Camara Tal breathed. “I think I get it. But you wouldn’t say if I did.”

He shook his head. “You never know who might hear when you’re talking,” he said pointedly. “And that might screw things up.”

“I understand,” she said, carefully putting the crystal in a small pouch on her belt. “I’ll have this in Spyder’s hand as fast as I can get it there, Tarrin. Trust me.”

“Trust in you is never misplaced, Camara,” he smiled, patting her hand with his massive paw. “By the way, don’t show that to anyone but Spyder.”

“I don’t see why, but I’ll do as you ask,” she assured him.

“I have my reasons,” he told her, glancing back into the room. “Oh yes, you’d better fireproof your room.”

“Why?”

“Ember’s going to be a mother,” he said. “I’m sure that her pups aren’t going to have much control of their breath weapons when they’re born.”

“What? Forge!” she growled accusingly, turning to stalk back into the room, but Tarrin put a paw on her arm.

“Stop posturing,” he snorted. “Things will be just fine, and you know it. Besides, you expected to bring a male and a female together and not have something happen?”

She gave him a look, then laughed. “What in the furies am I going to do with a pack of Hellhounds?”

“Camara, they will line up for a chance to take one of your puppies,” he told her evenly. “Everybody wants a Hellhound.”

“Well, yes, but they’re a big responsibility, so I’ll have to pick carefully,” she mentioned.

“That or we find a wild one, and give it to someone you don’t like,” he suggested.

Camara Tal gave him a surprised look, then burst out laughing. “That’s an evil idea, Tarrin. I like it.” She offered out her elbow to him meaningfully.

He put his paw in the crook of her arm just as an Amazon man would. “Just living up to my reputation, Camara dear,” he said as she escorted him off the balcony.

The last two hours of his time with his family and friends was spent with the one person who deserved that company more than any other, Mist. They spent only a short amount of time in bed, sharing intimacy in a way that he couldn’t with Jesmind and Kimmie, proving to him again that Mist was the most compatible with him of his three mates. She didn’t make incessant demands. She didn’t try to talk his ear off. She wasn’t pushy or demanding. She knew that they had a short time, so she simply enjoyed that time they had without argument or complaint.

After their private intimacy, they opened their doors to those who were truly part of Tarrin’s family. Kimmie, Zyri, and Jal returned to the apartment, and he shared a last quiet dinner with them, away from the others. It was a quiet dinner, but there was an underlying tension that made things not quite as pleasant as he’d have hoped.

“Umm, father,” Zyri began. “Am I going to take care of Fireflash while you’re here?”

Tarrin reached up and patted his drake fondly, who was on his shoulder. “Fireflash will be staying with me,” he answered her calmly, to which the drake nodded. “I’m going to take Sarraya’s amulet before we go, so he won’t get sick. But, Forge is going to need someone to play with,” he noted. “My other children are all gone from the house, and he’ll be terribly bored and lonely without someone to pay attention to him. Think you two can handle taking care of him, cubs?”

Upon hearing his name, the Hellhound got up from where he was laying with Ember, and padded over to the table. The massive animal’s head was almost on a level with Zyri’s with her sitting in the chair, and he nudged the girl with his muzzle gently. She giggled and patted him on the head, which caused him to lick her face. That made her burst out laughing. “His tongue is always so hot!” she noted as the animal went over to Jal.

“He breathes fire, cub,” Mist told her. “You’d think it would be.”

Jal hugged Forge around the neck, but the Hellhound pulled back quickly, making the boy gasp as the Hellhound dragged him out of his chair. He hung by the animal’s neck for a moment before Forge dropped down and pinned the boy underneath him, then began licking his face and neck. Jal gave out squeals of laughter as he tried to protect his face with his hands, which did absolutely no good against the massive Hellhound.

“Well, it’s good to see that Forge likes them,” Kimmie noted. “You want me to leave him at your house, darling?”

“Please,” he said with a nod. “The children will need him more than Tara and Rina. He’ll help keep them distracted until I’m done here. They’re going to have enough shocks as it is, they’re going to need Forge to help keep them calmed down.”

“I can imagine,” Kimmie chuckled. “They have so many people to meet, and some of them will be very intimidating.”

“How, how long do you expect this to take?” Kimmie asked, finally breaching the subject.

“Not long,” he answered. “But how long I stay here is actually going to depend on Darax and Bragg. They have to finish off the armies of the One.”

“Kang is coming back with an army,” Kimmie told him. “The instant he gets back, he’s going to start trying to raise one. He won’t have to work very hard, given that there’s already an army waiting…but he’ll want one that’s bigger. He really likes the Dura, he doesn’t want them and the Elara to have to fight this war alone.”

“Think he’ll have much luck?” Mist asked.

She nodded. “All he has to do is tell Shiika he wants a few of the Legions, and she’ll give them to him,” she answered. “Shiika trusts Kang, probably more than anyone else, even over her own daughters. Besides, her army is so huge, she can give him three or four Legions and have plenty left over.” She gave him a sly smile. “And I’m sure the Knights will join them, and probably the Ungardt, and I’m sure that Kerri will send a few divisions of Marines. If your time trapped in that Ward with the Demons is going to be set by how fast Bragg can take Pyrosia, then I’m sure that people back home will make that happen as fast as possible.”

“The Demons won’t be an issue,” he said dismissively. “I’m more concerned about the One’s armies. I’m just hoping they’re not fanatics. I’m hoping that after I destroy the One’s icon, many of them will give up.”

“It’s hard to say,” Kimmie answered honestly. “These humans are harder to understand than most. At least the humans of Sennadar have some modicum of sense. That’s lacking around here.”

“They’re just afraid, cub,” Mist said. “That makes everyone strange, or make bad decisions.” She looked at her paws. “Trust me, I know.”

“I think we all do,” Tarrin told her, reaching over and putting his paw on her shoulder. She looked over at him and smiled warmly, putting her paw over his.

“Well, hopefully that’ll change soon,” Tarrin said.

There was a knock at the door. It opened, and Dolanna poked her head through. “Dear one?”

“Yes, Dolanna?”

“It is time,” she said simply.

He sighed. “Already?” he said wistfully. “I thought we had more time.”

“I fear not, dear one,” she said. “It is close to sunset.”

“Alright,” he said as he looked around the table, and saw the worry, saw the concern, saw the fear. “Well, let’s go,” he said, pushing away from the table and standing up.

“Come on, cubs,” Mist called. “Make sure you have everything that’s yours.”

After a quick check of the apartment, the five of them left, and filed through the palace of Darax. When they reached the outside, ten of Darax’s personal guards were waiting for them, and fell into step both in front and behind, clearing the way as throngs of Dwarves gathered on the streets to cheer and call out. It was something of a surprise to Tarrin, given how much many of the Dura still didn’t like him. They lined the streets all the way through the city, right up until the front gates, and he and the children looked at them with both excitement and confusion. Tarrin looked around at the city one final time before leaving, marvelling at its construction, and admiring the Dwarves for both conceiving of it and building it. These were truly the descendants of the Duthak, in mind, body, and soul.

Outside, everyone was ready. They were gathered not far from the gates, a large throng behind the white-haired Wizard, who had several mystical symbols engraved into the ground and filled with powdered silver. It was a Concentric Circle, a device needed for several extremely powerful Wizard spells. The glyphs and symbols inscribed within the circle would determine its function, and from what Tarrin saw, this one was set up to open a gateway into another world. He remembered them from his exhaustive study of his spellbook. Behind Phandebrass was his friends, and behind them were the one hundred Dwarves that were going to go back to Sennadar, as well as three others. Shara was there, the Earth Adept, and to his surprise, Neh was there as well, holding onto a small bag and looking nervous. The third was an Elara he had never seen before, a tall, willowy female with almost decadently long platinum blond hair, hair done up in a long tail that nearly dragged the ground, amber eyes not much unlike Keritanima’s, and a graceful demeanor. She wore a white dress with blue goring in the sleeves and a blue bodice, embroidered within that blue, with silver thread, was a relief of an animal he identified as a unicorn. He saw that she had little ivory earrings shaped like a unicorn’s head in relief that hung from silver rings in her ears by the tips of their horns, and she had matching barettes in her hair, over each of her pointed ears, that had unicorns engraved in the onyx of the barettes.

But her striking appearance and fondness for unicorns was nothing compared to the aura of sheer power that radiated from this slender Elara. This was one of their most powerful spellcasters, of that there was absolutely no doubt.

“Master Tarrin,” Neh said with a little bow. “May I present Kyrienna.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said with a similar bow.

“I didn’t know you were going, Neh,” Tarrin said, more or less ignoring the woman.

“The King sent word that he wants two Wizards to go to the other world and study what Wizard magic your people have learned that we have not,” she explained. “My cousin and I were lucky enough to receive the honor.”

“I’m lucky that I just barely managed to make it in time,” the blonde said. “I must say, I’m looking quite forward to this. The idea of visiting a forbidden world is exciting. This might be my only chance to see it.”

“My cousin is a Worldwalker,” Neh said with excitement and respect.

“That means I visit other planes of existence, seeking out new magical lore,” she explained modestly. “Nezzi here always wanted to see what I do, so I put in a good word for her,” she said with a wink. “Now she gets to go see another world.”

“I didn’t realize your people did that,” Tarrin said. “Lorak never mentioned it.”

“That’s because what I do is frowned upon,” she smiled. “I’m supposed to be a Gatemaster. Any Wizard who can cast gate spells is supposed to serve the people by using that magic for our war against the One, but me and few others instead scour the multiverse searching for new magicks that might help us here. Many of our people think that what we do is a waste of time. I should be ferrying people back and forth from Pyrosia like a carriage driver, but I, how does Lorak say it, I ‘spend all of my time in vain and selfish pursuits instead of serving my people and my King in the manner to which I’m best suited.’” She looked to Neh. “Did that sound about right?” she asked.

“That sounds like Lorak,” Tarrin grunted.

“My cousin’s as good a Wizard as Phandebrass,” Neh said.

That made Tarrin look back at her. “Is that so?”

“I’ve heard much about this Phandebrass. I think I’m going to enjoy getting to know him,” she said, flexing her fingers in a manner that said that their meeting would be more competition than conversation.

Tarrin had to smile a little. Tarrin had the feeling that Phandebrass and Kyrienna were on a collision course…which might actually be a good thing.

“Speaking of this human, let’s go watch him work, Nezzi,” Kyrienna said, nudging Neh with her elbow.

“Nezzi?” Tarrin asked.

“She’s called me that since we were little girls,” she explained with a shy smile, before being dragged away.

“Something tells me that Phandebrass is going to have an interesting time of her,” Kimmie said, her finger on her cheek.

“She’s definitely more animated than other Elara,” Tarrin noted.

Mist snorted. “You mean she doesn’t have a steel rod stuck up her—“

“That’ll do, missy,” Tarrin warned, which made Kimmie burst into laughter.

Tarrin moved on with the others until he came to Binter, Sisska, and Tsukatta. The warriors were standing near Phandebrass as he read from a scroll he had prepared for the event. Tarrin took Binter’s massive hand in his paw, and clasped wrists with him. “It is nearly time,” the Vendari said. “Are you sure you do not wish for one of us to remain?”

“We’ll be fine, Binter,” he answered. “I absolutely guarantee that Dolanna will be coming home soon. Sooner than she thinks.”

“And of you?”

“If things work out right, I’ll be here a while longer,” he answered. “If I survive the initial encounter, then there won’t be any need for Dolanna, and she’ll come home. If I don’t…well, Dolanna will be here until Bragg completes his task. Either way, I have to stay here until the Demon Lord is dealt with. He’s my responsibility. I can’t leave until he’s gone.”

“You are only doing the honorable thing,” Binter said calmly. “It does your name justice.”

“That means a great deal to me, Binter.”

“Honor and Blood, Tarrin Kael.”

“Honor and Blood, Binter of the Vendari.”

“May Pythorras grant you conviction, Tarrin,” Sisska said, invoking the name of one of the Vendari gods.

“Thank you, Sisska. I might need his blessing before all is said and done.” He turned to Tsukatta. “I want you to do something for me, Tsukatta.”

“You have but to ask,” he said.

“I wouldn’t say that so quickly,” he said with a smile.

“You are my friend, Tarrin Kael,” he said simply. “If you have need of it, my life is yours, as is only proper.”

“Well, this won’t take quite that much,” he chuckled. “At my home is a sword that looks almost exactly like this one, just smaller,” he said, producing his sword from the elsewhere and presenting it. “Mist knows where I keep my weapons, she can show you. I want you to get that sword, get in touch with Spyder, and have her take you to Haven.”

“What do I do with it when I reach Haven?” he asked.

“Throw it into the gate,” he answered.

“I, I do not understand,” he said.

“I’m going to need it, Tsukatta. Put it in the Astral, and I can get at it. I can’t do that as long as it’s on Sennadar.”

“I understand. It will be as you ask, my friend, though I fail to see the need for it.”

“Trust me. There’s going to be a need for it.”

“Then it will be done,” he said with a bow.

“I can do that for you, darling,” Kimmie protested.

“You have children to see,” he told her. “Tsukatta will need to go to Haven to get home, so he can just do this for me along the way.”

“I’m not planning on going home quite yet, but I’ll still make sure it is done,” he said. “Since there will be other outworlders in Sennadar, I’m going to see if I can’t visit your world and see more than Lady Spyder’s gate chamber.”

“I’m sure you can sneak past,” Tarrin chuckled.

He went past them to where Haley stood with Ulger and Kang, near the litter that the Dwarves had used to bring out Azakar. The Mahuut Knight was still a little pale, dressed in a tunic and breeches, but his sword was beside him on the litter. He reached out his hand to Tarrin, who clasped it firmly. Tarrin and Azakar had often not seen eye to eye, but there had always been that core of mutual respect and understanding.

“So what does Miranda say?” he asked.

“Miranda says that he needs about three days in bed,” the mink Wikuni said from behind Haley. He stepped aside to allow her to reach the litter. “As long as he gets his rest, he’ll be breaking heads again in no time,” she said with a cheeky grin.

He ignored her, looking at the dark-skinned human. “How do you feel?”

“Tired,” he answered. “A little embarassed that I’m causing so much trouble.”

“It’s never trouble to help a friend, Zak,” Tarrin told him. “I want you to do something for me.”

“Anything.”

“Telven is being sent to the Academy to work,” he said. “Make something of him.”

Azakar nodded gravely. “I know exactly what you mean,” he said. “I’ll take care of it, Tarrin. I promise.”

“We’ll make him a special project,” Ulger said, giving Tarrin an evil grin. “I might ask your little sister to arrange a special meeting, if you know what I mean,” he said with a chuckle.

“Yes, he might have trouble denying the existence of other gods if he’s staring one in the face,” Haley said slyly.

“Good.”

“Lad, I’m planning on coming back to help Bragg, with as many troops as I can put together in three days,” Kang told him. “Do you have a problem with this?”

“Not really, but how are you going to get home, Kang?” he asked p