“Well, there’s no sense in us standin’ about now that we know what’s goin’ on,” Cedric picked up one of the drawings. “Can we keep some o’ these ‘til we get the ones with more details from ya?”

“By all means, copies are available for that very reason,” Baelin said.

“Thanks,” Hart grabbed loads of drawings like he was preparing a stash for the winter. “When we meet up with Merzhin, we’ll have to tell him about these demon worshippers.”

“Ah, yes, the Saint,” Baelin mused as Drestra selected some of the drawings. “Praytell, is he still healing injured members of your forces?”

“Aye,” Cedric said, seeming a little distracted. “We’re ta meet up with him at his last stop, which means we best be gettin’ down the road. We’ll have ta push the horses since we’re likely ta be late now.”

“Hmmmm.” Baelin stroked his beard-braids. “Do tell, where will you be meeting with your young companion?”

“North east, ‘bout twenty miles from here.” Cedric said. “There’s a town there called Ryeford.”

Baelin’s eyes flicked over empty space, like he was reading something invisible there. Then he looked toward the map on the back wall. “It seems Ryeford is quite close to Rurik’s Stand. I’m familiar with the area since it’s one I briefly explored to get the lay of the land after negotiations with your king were concluded. Which means that you and your horses are in luck.”

“Uh…” Hart said. “I’m more used to fighting wizards than talking to them. So, how does that make us lucky?”

“Are you meaning teleportation magic?” Drestra asked excitedly.

“Hah, a fine guess indeed,” Baelin rounded the table. “Since I have been in that area before, I can teleport myself—and your little party—there. Pfah, today I will take on the role of a simple ferryman.” He laughed. “One of my less challenging roles I must admit. But, such is life. Come, walk with me.”

The towering wizard escorted the Heroes from the tent and out into the open air; the press of folks gathered outside parted as he led the guests toward their waiting horses.

“Might I cast a spell on all of you?” Baelin asked. “It will be quite harmless.”

The three Heroes looked at each other.

“Don’t know as ta why not, s’long as y’won’t be turning us into toads or somethin’,” Cedric said.

“Oh my, no,” Baelin snorted, seeming to take delight in the suggestion. “That would just be plain rude. It will only be for teleportation to save you hours on horseback.” He paused and looked directly at Cedric with a slight smile. “But, if you did wish to make the journey as a toad, we could easily accommodate that wish.”

Cedric suddenly looked shaken.

From nearby, the sound of Professor Jules loudly clearing her throat could be heard.

“You must forgive an old man his humour.” the ancient wizard apologised, looking slightly amused. “Wizardly jests sometimes miss the mark…so to speak. But, enough jokes.” His attention turned to the gathered expedition members. “Our new allies are leaving our camp to journey back into the thick of it, as it were. Come, let us send them off properly.”

Waves of cheering erupted from all over the encampment, with those who’d fought beside the Heroes cheering loudest. When the three Heroes had first arrived, they were allies. Now, they were comrades, forged in battle.

A bit of irritation went through Drestra: the cheering was familiar. They’d been celebrated in the same way when they’d ventured from the capital of Ussex over a year ago. The cheering had been louder then, and Drestra had heard it with mixed feelings. She’d had little interest in being the Sage back then—only an academic curiosity for her new, Mark-granted powers—and her greatest wish had been to get the cycle over with as quickly as possible.

Back then, priests, nobles and knights had pronounced full confidence that it would all be over with quickly.

But the days had turned to weeks, the weeks to months and the months had stretched to beyond a year with no end in sight.

The Ravener and its armies of spawn fought like cornered beasts, and every bit of ground the Heroes and Thameish fighters gained when they destroyed a dungeon was lost mere months later. Yet the cheering continued. Whenever they left a town, city or garrison, soldiers would still gather and cheer them as they headed back to the wilderness. But…those cheers sounded more hollow to her now than they used to. The soldiers’ smiles seemed forced. In their eyes, where optimism once shone, a grim resolve now replaced it.

The hollow cheers had only stoked her bitterness.

But now? The cheers filling the air around them seemed sincere, hopeful, and even enthusiastic.

And the people here weren't interested in playing out another in an endless march of cycles; like all the death and destruction was a national pride, like there was no other way. These people were intent on trying to solve it.

Maybe she could allow herself a little hope in that.

She gave the crowd a wave alongside Hart, Cedric and their steeds as Baelin spread his hands behind them, chanting words of power. Again, Drestra felt that enormous surge of mana, nearly buckling her at the knees.

And then the world shifted.

“And there they go,” Prince Khalik said. “Off to to seek out dungeons and now demons.”

Alex swore. A lot.

“Not this shit again,” he said. “Gods, I swear if I could bring Leopold back to life and beat him unconscious I’d be halfway back to Generasi by now.”

“Same,” Thundar crossed his arms. “Maybe we could break Amir out of jail and clobber him a few times.”

“Shhh,” Isolde whispered, nodding toward the edge of the crowd.

Professor Jules was walking to one of the other tents, looking like someone had just desecrated her father’s tomb. Alex wouldn’t have needed to study body language to know that every single move she made emanated rage.

“I think we should perhaps not speak of Amir,” Isolde said softly. “Out of…sensitivity for our professor.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Thundar agreed, taking a deep breath like he often did when practising the Cleansing Movements. “It’s done. Getting rage-y about it is not gonna help.”

“Best to acknowledge it and just let it pass,” Theresa agreed. “What’s done is done. We can’t deal with what’s already happened, but we can hunt down these cultists.”

“Mmmm,” Grimloch said, thumbing the haft of his maul. “Good chance for payback.”

Alex inhaled deeply, acknowledging his anger and letting it pass. “Yeah, you guys are right. This is kind of a later problem anyway. We’ll be on the lookout for cultists, and so will the Heroes…but the Ravener’s really the biggest threat.”

And besides, having Ezaliel’s cult members show up might not exactly be a bad thing. Burn-Saw served in the demon’s forces, and if his and Baelin’s summoning investigation didn’t work out, then the cultists would be the next best chance at finding out more about Hannar-cim.

“Right,” Thundar said. “Our shift’s up anyway. Let’s get back home. Been a helluva long three days.”

Alex nodded.

He’d be back at school soon. Time to learn some more summoning spells.

“By Uldar and the clan heads!” Cedric swore as he and the other Heroes materialised back into the world. Their horses bucked and whinnied with fear, but Hart quickly grabbed their reins and began calming them. He whispered to them, gently stroking their flanks.

The Heroes, horses and Baelin were all in the same positions they’d been in a heartbeat earlier, but their surroundings were completely different. The encampment was gone, instead, they were at a crossroadson the road west of Ryeford. They’d passed this very spot on the way to Greymoor.

“And here we are,” Baelin said. “I do believe you will reach your destination in about three hours on foot. Of course, it will take far less time on horseback.”

“Holy Uldar!” Hart swore. “I’ve heard of wizards doing this in tales, but…holy Uldar!”

The chancellor let out a booming laugh that rocked through the trees. “I am afraid that ‘holy Uldar’ has nothing to do with this.” He grinned. “It is simply the work of the will of mortals, mana and good, reliable spellcraft.”

“Hell yeah, then,” Hart whooped. “Drestra, when the hell are you gonna learn this kinda stuff?”

“As soon as I can,” the Sage said, with admiration and awe in her voice. “Once I break through to fifth-tier spells, this’ll be the first one I learn.”

Baelin turned his twinkling gaze to Drestra and then Cedric. “Should you crave instruction, perhaps I—or another professor—could set you on the path to such advanced magics. It would be a shame to see those with such promising…affinities for magic left without proper guidance.”

“The Witches of Crymlyn Swamp are masters of magic in their own right,” Drestra’s crackling voice said, with a slightly defensive note in it.

“Indeed, they are,” the chancellor rose to his full height. “I meant no offence, but it is a simple fact that we in Generasi have access to resources that wizards the world over do not. Still, it is best that we learn from each other if we can. Perhaps one of your elders would enjoy a sojourn to our encampment one day, Drestra. They could teach your ways to our students just as we could teach you and Cedric. In any case, I shall leave you to your journey: your time has been taken up enough, I would say. Farewell until we meet again, young Heroes.”

With another immense roar of mana, the beastman vanished into thin air.

“Bloody hell,” Cedric swore. “What a monster he was.”

“Heh, most of those bastards over there were,” Hart said. “The Ash Ravens killed some wizards in our day, but I’m glad I didn’t go up against that lot before I got the Mark.”

“Before ya got the Mark? You think you could ‘take ‘em now?” Cedric asked.

“Some of them? No problem,” Hart said, nodding.

“Oh?” Drestra asked, a note of steel entering her voice. “I think they would blast you with so much magic, you’d be nothing but smoking boots.”

Hart snorted. “Maybe if there was enough of ‘em, and they had me cornered. But all the magic in the world’s not gonna help if your head’s taken clean off before you can finish one of your fancy spells. That’s key when fighting wizards.”

“Oh?” some amusement entered her voice. “And what about the chancellor?”

“Oh he’d be a problem. A big one,” the Champion’s humour dropped. “He’s got power, sure, but he knows how to move too. Perfect balance on those hooves: he’s a warrior, I can tell you that much. The rest, though? They’d be dogmeat against me. Most of ‘em, at least: the Watchers’d give me trouble, and I think the big shark, Grimloch, would too if he’s got someone backing him up. Same with that quick one, Theresa.”

He paused, scratching the stubble on his chin. “But the real big problem besides the chancellor? It’s that bloody golem. That thing’s a monster through and through. I could break it, but it’s got way too much power, and it hits hard. It’d be a tough fight.”

“Aye,” Cedric said. “I’d give a lot to have that big bastard with us all the time…yeah…”

The Chosen’s mind drifted back to the battle in the dungeon, remembering how the golem had crashed through just about anything the dungeon threw at it. Hart was right, it truly was a monster; he figured he might be faster, but even if he was, he wouldn’t fancy fighting that thing.

He’d likely win, by his reckoning: it wasn’t like he hadn’t busted up hulking-big monsters that dungeons had thrown at them before…but with those fire-beams and Alex Roth’s dirty fighting? Cedric remembered the attendant’s corpse, sucked dry by one of Roth’s summoned monsters; one thing was sure, a fight against him would be ugly.

A fight he’d win, he reassured himself again, but probably not without some nasty wounds: he was a lot faster than Roth or his golem, he could heal from a lot of hurt with Uldar’s divinity, and his spells had more power behind them.

…maybe not as much power as those damned fire-beams, but still more than anything that the wizard had shown.

Some of Baelin’s words came back about targeting the greatest threat first. Dungeon cores tended to work that way…but the one in the chitterer dungeon hadn’t paid anywhere near as much attention to him as it had to Alex. His golem was tough, no doubt about that, but he’d used a blessing on his weapon so it dealt cursed, lethal cuts to the Ravener’s spawn. Yet, it had gone after Roth—and not him—with a vengeance.

He was one of the Heroes, cores knew to try and kill them first because they were their biggest threat. It should have focused on him since he was the only one in that dungeon who could’ve reliably stopped the gibbering legions.

Yet it had almost ignored him in favour of Alex, not even giving him or the rest of their team anywhere near as much attention. Cedric felt like he was missing something.

“Oi,” he turned to the other Heroes. “What did you think of that Roth guy and his friends?”

Hart shrugged. “They’re stout, I guess. Good to fight and drink with. Tyris has a hell of a lot of energy. Good looking too. Real good looking.”

Blue eyes flashed in Cedric’s mind.

“Aye…” He shook the thought away. “But, I dunno…what about you, Drestra?”

“Why do you ask?” the Sage threw a question back at him. “You’ve known them longer than I have.”

“Well…lemme ask something else. When you fought the dungeon core in the blood-drak dungeon, did it focus on you or the other wizards you were with?”

“Why?” Drestra asked him again.

“I dunno…” Cedric said. “I get the feelin’ we’re not seein’ somethin’ here. I’m wonderin’ if there’s somethin’ up with Alex Roth.”