Step clomp, step clomp. Sam clomped along, forcing wind through a harmonica he’d found on one of the soldier’s waists. The instrument hung in midair while Sam controlled the melody with an idle thought. Maybe they were getting home by now. Sam had knocked each of them off their horses with just a little push from his staff, then disabled them and tied them up. Easy as pie.

The more jaded Sams argued that letting the soldiers sent to ride him down live was a stupid, stupid move, and that they would inform Tyranus about exactly what he could do as soon as they got back to the city. Sam knew they were right, but he didn’t have the heart to kill people yet. Not when he didn’t have to. That was what Sam’s effort mastering the art of magic was focused toward: more options.

Sam focused, and the harmonica warbled a discordant tune, losing precision as he summoned a ball of crackling energy, holding it out in front of himself. This was the most basic, reliable spell in a wizard’s arsenal: the Jyin Suata. It had been reinvented in multiple places, across multiple times. Against a normal human or animal with no defenses, it was a sure way to take them down. It never missed.

The reason for that was when you cast the spell, the target and the sphere essentially had the magical equivalent of a taut rubber band between the two of them. The sphere could only move closer to its target.

Sam held his hand close to the ball, feeling the energy raising the hairs on the back of his hand. It wasn’t quite heat that Sam felt emanating from the sphere, it was potential. Of course, when it struck its target, most of that potential would be released as heat.

From what other Sams had read and seen, there were countless ways to tinker with the spell, and it all basically came down to changing the way the energy expressed itself on contact with its intended target. This particular one was an idea Sam had, being more familiar with guns. Sam released the sphere, and it shot through the air, landing in the grass about fifteen feet away.

An explosive sound echoed across the plains, and the trapdoor spider’s legs erupted from the ground flinging chunks of grassy dirt everywhere as they thrashed, before becoming still. This particular version of the spell sucked all the energy in the sphere into a small point on contact and then shot it forward as kinetic force with pinpoint accuracy in the exact direction the sphere had been moving when it made contact. In short, it blasted a hole in whatever it hit.

If Maria had shot something like this at Sam the last time, he’d have had a hole in his chest about the size of a half dollar, or a Sanctuary silver piece. There were more deadly ways to express energy than a puff of heat.

Still, the cast time was slow, and without using his hands, he could only do one of them at a time, but he’d be damned if he used his hands for any spells. It made it easier, sure, but sooner or later someone was going to tie him up and gag him, again. When that happened, Sam was going to surprise the ever-loving shit out of them.

As soon as Sam could play the harmonica and fire the Jyin Suata without missing a beat, he could try adding a second blast. As it stood though, Sam could only fire off five of them in a short time before he became exhausted.

Between the amulet slowing the recovery of his Yuenan and saving a bit of power in case of emergency, Sam was only able to form one Jyin Suata each hour. Sam glanced at the mountains jutting into the sky in the distance. They had been gradually growing larger over the last three days. The steep valley between the two mountains where the factory was located was becoming visible and Sam figured he would be upon the factory by tomorrow, easily.

Yet Sam didn’t see any evidence of its existence. Sam would have expected a road or at least a trail leading to and from the factory, to supply its raw ingredients. Or smoke on the horizon from the engines, coal fires, or just cooking stoves of the thousands of men and elves that had to be living there. But there was nothing.

It could be hidden behind an illusion. A trick Theold had used when Sam had been hunting him was something akin to a mirage, making the origin of camp smoke invisible from further away than fifty feet. Bending light a little wasn’t too hard, you didn’t have to create a miniature black hole or anything like that, simply dicking around with air density was plenty.

Any place this secret must have guards, though. If he kept getting closer to the place on Faera’s map, he’d either spot the guards, or they’d spot him. As long as they didn’t defend the place with artillery, Sam had a pretty good shot at making it inside alive.

When the sun went down, Sam rested in a depression in the sparse forest that spread out from the twin mountains like a receding hairline. With a bank of soil and a fallen pine between himself and the valley, Sam risked making a small fire, and warmed himself in front of it while considering his approach.

He could go straight in the valley and probably get attacked on sight, or he could expend the effort of climbing a mountain with a peg leg in an attempt to catch them by surprise. Sam poked the fire with a stick, considering the pros and cons.

Yeah, going straight in would be easier. Sam chuckled at how telling it was for him to think fighting armed men was easier than climbing a mountain and then fighting armed men, albeit with the element of surprise. From what Sam had seen, he was pretty surprising already.

Sam spent the evening in meditation, working on his Isayatta by adding a ring, bringing the siphon closer to the source of his yuenan. In the pitch black inner world, the brightly burning Yuenan illuminated a dull red siphon in the distance, looking a bit like an Aztec pyramid, with a pale green light shining at the top. A steady flow of power was drawn into the bottom of the pyramid, like steam rising from the surface of water drawn into a vacuum. The dull red pyramid was the protection amulet’s manifestation.

That gave rise to some interesting questions. The amulet’s siphon took up a sizeable chunk of space around Sam’s Yuenan, did that mean there was a tangible limit to the number of things he could wear at any given time? Sam set that question aside as one to figure out at a later time, finishing his work of adding a ring to his Isayatta.

Sam sat on the edge of the glowing gold construction, dangling his feet over the ledge as he watched the burning ball of magic inside him. Soon Sam would plate the roof and walls of his palace, but for now he was able to enjoy the view. It was starting to come along nicely.

Once the core of the Isayatta was done, it was traditional to build an actual mansion around it to defend it from attack by other wizards, but that was a skill lost to time. The only people capable of destroying Isayatta were godlike entities still residing in their original world, and a handful of dead wizard refugees whose knowledge had died with them. At least according to Greg’s notes.

Sam was fairly confident most of Tyranus’s magic was self-taught, but he’d had over five hundred years to get the knack, so who knew what he was capable of? Sam realized that attempting to use magic to beat the dragon was like trying to beat a computer at chess. It wasn’t going to happen.

To take the analogy further, Sam might be able to distract the computer with a chess game long enough to unplug it and smash the CPU while it was defenseless. Similarly, In order to kill the dragon, he had to cheat. Sam released a soft breath and opened his eyes, letting in the light of the fire. He could do that.

The next morning Sam walked straight into the valley, breaking into a grin when a towering stone wall blinked into existence about fifty feet in front of him. Atop the wall were two dozen men dressed in gold-embroidered white, with crossbows and grim expressions. In the center of the wall was a man in a red robe.

Below him was a massive portcullis made from a strange blue-tinted iron. Magical script was scrawled across the iron and the wall. Sam ran it through the memories of elven and magical script other Sams had recorded, and deciphered the light-bending spell, an enchantment that drew strength from the earth to fortify the walls, and a curse targeting anyone who read it. Shit.

Sam’s ears began to ring, and he missed the words of the guy on the Gate.

“Huh?” Sam said, wincing through a headache as the curse took hold.

“What is your business here?” the man in red repeated, his brows furrowing even further. Sam hadn’t believed someone could frown that much, he looked like a Japanese frowny statue. You know the ones. Sam touched a hand to his ear as the pain grew worse. The curse seemed to be making him absent minded, forgetting he was in a deadly situation. Adjust strategy, AKA, lie your ass off.

“I’m a messenger…” God damn, the grass looked funny the way it stuck straight out of the ground. Focus, Merchant from where? Add a detail that will make him think twice about offing you. Deal with the curse later. Or maybe just lie down.

“That you don’t want to kill.” Got the job done, I guess.

“And why is that?”

“’Cuz the one who sent me…” And that’s all I got. Sam collapsed to the ground, his eyes wide and staring at the perfectly ninety degree grass shoots even as he dived into his Yuenan. Inside the dark space tendrils of sickly green energy were creeping into his consciousness like the roots of a tree, seeking out and draining his Yuenan. In the distance, Sam could hear the words of the man in red.

“Seems like he was a spy… Cuff him and take him to the hole, and we’ll find out where from.”

Sam didn’t have time to curse internally, as he was busy chopping the digging roots away from where they sustained themselves in his Yuenan, dipping into it like water. Once he was done with that, he’d have to clean up the isayatta, which looked like an abandoned house in the jungle, covered in thick vines.

Sam’s staring eyes saw himself rise away from the grass, and he felt the hands pulling his arms behind his back, but he was completely absorbed in fighting the curse. Cold steel clicked around his wrists and neck, and Sam felt a tightness just behind his lungs.

Inside the Yuenan the world darkened, and Sam looked up and away from his task of slashing away the encroaching roots. Above him a dome of steel had formed, scrawled with elvish script that defied being read. The steel completely surrounded Sam and his Yuenan, and to his dismay, he realized that he couldn’t see through his eyes anymore. Am I trapped in here? Sam lowered his head and resumed hacking at the roots of the curse with energy from his Yuenan formed into a brilliantly glowing blade. One thing at a time.

“It’s happened a few times before, with wizards. Very rarely, when you slap these cuffs on them..” Marcus pointed at the silver collar on the dark skinned giant’s neck. “They wind up like that, and there’s no coming back.” The giant lay limp in the hole, his eyes open and staring, a line of drool hanging from the corner of his mouth.

“So what do we do with him?” Drake asked, casting a glance toward his red robed superior, who was scratching the leather grip of his sword with his thumbnail.

“Put him with the other elves. Have them keep him alive. Just because the giant’s a vegetable doesn’t mean we can’t put him to use.”

Drake nodded, motioning for three other men to help him carry the insensate black-skinned giant with the peg leg and fancy robes toward the pens while Marcus observed, his mind ready in case the giant was faking. Giving the elves something to care for used up their free time, and made them less likely to attempt an escape. In addition to that, Marcus was sure that the giant would be volunteered to spend shifts on the machine in favor of some of the more frail elves, and they would surely be happy for that.

The question was, where did the giant come from? If the Restraining Cuffs made him a vegetable, he had to be a wizard. All wizards not part of the Force of God were either Infidels from Mississippi, practicing a crude and corrupted from of magic, or they came from elf lands, the source of great evil.

Marcus had tested the giant’s unconscious body, and found the depth of the man’s wellspring was astonishing. It lay somewhere between a human’s and an elf’s, but closer to an elf’s. If he had been a human with eight or more Molts behind him, would they have been able to take him so easily?

Marcus decided to believe the giant was a half or quarter from the land of Mississippi, who, aside from his gigantism, had no unusual markers that would indicate elven blood, while maintaining a rather large wellspring. An ideal hybrid.

If the giant’s mind had survived, Marcus would have been very interested in his origins, but all the man was good for now was powering the machines. Maybe the Tower would show an interest and take him off Marcus’s hands. Marcus decided to add a rather long summary of his observations to his weekly report.

While Marcus was debating the proper course of action, Drake and his squad lifted the giant out of the pit and hoisted him up on their shoulders.

“Augh, he’s pissed himself,” one of Drake’s men complained, moving his hand and causing them to almost drop their cargo.

“That’s fine, John, go and wash your hands,” Drake said, glancing over at him.

“Really?” John asked, incredulous. The rest of Drake’s men eyed him speculatively, perhaps wondering what they could get away with too.

“Of course, go wash up… then report to the sanitation officer, and tell him you want to spend the rest of the day knee deep in human excrement. Because you do. Because if I don’t see you giving me a great big smile from a pool of raw sewage when we finish dropping this off, I’m going to give you five lashes and then have you thrown in, now get out of my sight!” John fled to the sounds of the rest of his squad’s jeering.

“Hal, get his legs.” Drake said. Hal didn’t hesitate.

The rest of the trip went smoothly, and the squad marched through the ordered rows of the Force of God housing, into the beaten dirt and steel fencing of the elf encampment. There were no houses, no roofs, the better to keep an eye on all of them at once from the observation towers. There were a few raised areas of earth that the disgusting creatures had made for themselves beneath stretched and oiled animal skins, allowing a handful of their elders a reprieve from the elements.

Drake liked the midsummer practice of denying tents to the elves. It made it easier for him to study the females as they bathed. It filled him with fury to watch them stand on two legs and run water through their hair as if they were people. The thought made drake tighten his grip on the giant for an instant before he calmed down and focused on his job. Time enough for punishment after the sun went down.

The man guarding the entrance to the fenced in pen with no less than two hundred elves, waved Drake and his men into the low security pen. Troublemakers and repeat offenders were moved to more well-guarded pens, with extra layers of security. At least these rats could see the sky.

“Listen up, rats!” Drake said as they approached the shaded hill, watching as all but the weakest scurried away from him. Drake gave his men the signal and dumped the giant’s body face down on the side of the hill. The man’s gaudy robe floated up and over, covering his head while exposing his nethers.

Drake chuckled and shook his head at the disgrace, then his eyes lit on the peg leg. Drake bent and slid the wood club off the man’s stump. Drake couldn’t allow them to have access to weapons. He pointed at the giant with his peg leg before speaking.

“Take care of this man, we’ll be adding him to the rotation. If he dies anywhere other than in the machine, I’ll have you join him.” Drake made eye contact with a gray haired woman who’d refused to budge from the hill, and his rage surged for an instant. How dare she look in a human’s eyes?

Drake breathed out and calmed himself, his anger mollified somewhat by the elven women dressed in scraps who watched him as though he were a wrathful deity.

“You,” Drake said, picking one out from the crowd. “Come to my cabin after the sun goes down. Don’t make me come find you.” The rat began to shiver, making comical groaning noises as it dropped to the ground and began sobbing. Drake chuckled, enjoying the view for a moment before motioning for his men to leave. As one they turned and left, leaving the elves to close in around the fool giant with piss-covered silk robes.

“What should we do about him?” A young elf man said, his ribs visible through the gaping rent in his roughspun clothes.

“We do what we’re told,” The elder elf said before motioning to Haleia. “What we need to focus on is protecting her.”

“How do we do that? The man’s unhinged.”

“Yes, but not unpredictable. Have Haleia switch clothes with Jennei, and brief her.”

The young man looked at his elder, horrified. “You would send her to that monster again?”

“Yes.” She glared at the youngling, itching her missing fingers. “Jennei is the best actress in a thousand years, a natural born spy. She had that man figured out the first night she spent with him, and briefed the other women besides. We haven’t had a girl turn up missing in three months, since she was chosen. Do you think that was a coincidence?”

“No, but…”

“But you think we should send Haleia, a girl who couldn’t fake an emotion to save her life, or send no one at all? You know those would both wind up with her dead.”

“But what if he notices the switch?”

The elder snorted. “He can’t tell one of us from another. The man doesn’t even remember who he pointed at, just that they burst into tears, which was what he really wanted.”

Meanwhile three malnourished men flopped the giant over and uncovered his face.

“Tell Jennei to see if she can find out…” The elder’s words stilled in her mouth, and she began struggling to stand. When a youngling came to assist her, she swatted them away, while still using their shoulder to get onto her good leg.

She stumbled closer to the giant and fell to her knees, giving the younglings a fright.

“Oh, Sam.” Ella said, stroking Sam’s cheek with her two remaining fingers. “Where have you been?” Ella looked up at the people surrounding them, who stared as though they had seen something beyond their comprehension. The elder was crying.