“Jake!” Cara flung her arms around him, pressing her bow into his back.

Warmth tingled in his chest. “Hey.” He shuffled and patted her on the back. “I’m back.” And thank fuck I keep whatever I have equipped when I die.

“In one piece, too.”

“More or less.” He swallowed. “There was a price.”

Her beaming smile faded. “What do you mean? You didn’t blow yourself up again, did you?”

“Not this time.”

“No, no, no, no, no—you dying is not becoming a ‘this time’!” She sucked in air, her hands rising and falling. “Gah! I should have been there with you.”

“You wouldn’t have been able to help. I dueled one of them. One on one with a battlemage, and I won! Well… he died first. That totally counts.”

Cara stared and shook her head. “Fill me in, and then I’ve got something to tell you.”

***

The world lurched again. Jake clutched the recovered leather armor tight and stumbled forward. “Couldn’t see anything else down there. Sorry, no magic bow this time.”

“Next time!” Cara clapped her hands together and bounced from side to side. “Let’s go see Gramok.”

The traps in the courtyard were empty of mana. He buffed her up anyway, and teleported himself across the danger zone.

She rolled her eyes. “Do you really think they’ll come back to life right when you’re in front of them?”

“Better safe than dead.”

“Is it really that bad?”

“I’d just gotten Dispel!” His neck stiffened uncomfortably. “Besides, the next time might be worse.”

Cara blinked and tilted her head. “What did you just say?”

He sighed. Was it the System doing that? “Don’t worry about it.”

They passed through the gatehouse side by side. Metal scraped across stone behind them. The portcullis had closed; probably for the best.

Gramok waved, standing safely out of range of the traps. How much to tell him? The cost, at least, required no explanation. No Dispel going in, no Dispel going out. He didn’t have to know.

Cara stared, her head slowly tilting to the side. “How does his armor still glisten like that? It’s almost dark.”

Would he want people talking about him? “If you’d like to know about Gramok, ask him.” Jake self-cast Absorb and poked his head out, just enough to look up. “These traps are offline as well.”

“Off network?”

Right; Common, not English. No railways, no internet, no electricity. “I mean they’re disabled.”

“Ah!” She grinned and bounded forward. “Hey Gramok!”

Jake swallowed. The traps still didn’t shift. He scurried after her, glancing over his shoulder.

“Victorious adventurers, I hope?”

Cara nodded emphatically. “Victorious indeed!” She bounced up to the tree, flopped down beside it, and pulled the nest from her pack.

Squeak! Squeak!

A final glance back at the temple. Still no activity from the traps, and now they were out of range. Weight lifted off Jake’s shoulders. “The dungeon’s clear. Not much loot, but I learned a new skill.”

“Nice!” Gramok’s gauntleted hands clattered together. “Quest complete, then! Learn any new magic?”

Clear the Order of the Battlemage Temple completed.

5,000 XP received!

Jake’s breath caught. He still had the amulet. It wouldn’t be Dispel, but a message spell would be handy. He forced out a smile. “Maybe. I’ll have to get back to you on that. I picked up a new ability, though.”

“Huzzah! You’ll have to tell me all about it—on our way back. This place gives me the creeps.”

***

Gramok strode ahead, lit lantern in hand, no doubt thinking about all the food awaiting him. Cara skipped beside him, humming away. From time to time, Gramok would shush her, but it never held for long.

The System. Places even gods couldn’t see. Jake’s ribcage clenched around his heart. His father. How did it all fit together?

Was Death really as trapped as he claimed, or was this a game to him? He clearly enjoyed toying with his prey, and took far too much pleasure in his work.

Was anyone in this world really free? Contradictions that they couldn’t see. Knowledge that they couldn’t learn. Something—or someone—pulled them back whenever they crossed a line.

But not Jake.

Jake swallowed. Would he know? They didn’t. Why should he? Common came as easily as English, and it felt so damned natural. Determining where his skills ended and he began was fast approaching impossible, and he knew about those. How could he possibly tell if an unknown force was affecting him?

Fuck it. The burger had been right there. He might as well have enjoyed it.

He snorted. No, the smug satisfaction that would have given Death would never have been worth it. Death enjoyed power too much, and so far, he didn’t seem to have all that much of it, beyond sending Heroes back from the Dead. And even that had rules he couldn’t break.

Men like that craved power and never gave it back; best not to give them any in the first place. Jake sighed. Knowledge was power, and Death had that, if nothing else. What was it Death had said?

“Something changed, but not what was supposed to.”

Thirteen, fourteen years ago. About when the first Divine Emperor in ten thousand years had gone from not existing to having been on the throne for as long as anyone could remember.

Fingernails bit into Jake’s palms. About when he’d been abandoned. He exhaled, and unclenched his fists. Whatever had happened was done. The here and now needed dealing with.

“So, what’s the plan now, Ranger Jake?”

A jolt jumped through him. He blinked. How long had she been there? Long, deep breath out. He was safe. It was just Cara. “Do you have any idea how ridiculous that sounds?”

“Yes.” She leaned in and dropped down to a whisper. “And I like it.”

His heart refused to stop racing. “Why?”

She paused. Her gaze turned away, and her shoulders swayed as she walked.

Jake scanned the horizon. The dying light barely illuminated the crop fields. Another deep breath. The area was relatively safe, especially with the dungeon cleared. If anything was out there, the three of them could handle it.

Cara’s arm brushed against his. “For the record, I didn’t even Stealth. You need to pay more attention. Perception won’t do the work for you.”

“It won’t.” Warmth fluttered in Jake’s chest, and he grinned. “That’s what I have you for.”

A punch slammed into his arm. “I’m serious! I can’t see everything.”

“You’re right.” Was it worth it? Yeah, it was worth it. “But I’m not scared of your hairbrush.”

The second punch hit the exact same spot. Still worth it.

***

Gramok raised his enormous pewter tankard, and the tavern hushed to a mere din. “Tonight, we drink to the heroes of the hour—Jake and Cara!”

Ice gripped Jake’s heart. A cheer rippled through the tavern, followed by a barrage of loud drinking. He exchanged a glance with Cara. Her face was white, her lips pressed together.

Gramok slammed his tankard down on the bar. A single drop leaped out. “Another!” He turned to Jake, to Cara, and back to Jake. “You both look like you’ve seen Dromagar himself. It’s a celebration, drink!”

The stocky bartender poured more of the green fizzling liquid into Gramok’s tankard, enough to fill a small ocean. She eyed up the two much smaller, and still half full, tankards upon the bar. “You two drink and sleep on the house tonight. Live a little!”

Gramok leaned over the table, flashing a huge grin. “What, me?”

She laughed. “That would bankrupt me, Ten Flagon! I’ll put it on your father’s tab, so don’t stop drinking! The danger fees he’ll add to next week’s shipment won’t pay for themselves.”

Another patron called out, “Tindo!” She shook her head, grabbed a flagon from the back counter, and made her way along the bar.

Jake turned to Gramok and smirked. “Ten Flagon?”

“I was younger then.”

Cara leaned against the bar and clutched her drink. “How much younger?”

“There might have been a bet involved.” Gramok grimaced. “I won, but, well…” He pointed up.

Wooden planks were nailed to the roof. Jake blinked. That one time he’d hadn’t stopped at two—or three, four, five, or six—didn’t look so bad anymore. “How the hell…?”

Gramok shrugged and quaffed his tindovarg. “Long story.”

Cara took another swig and licked her lips. “We have time!”

“Fine, fine.” A smirk spread across Gramok’s lips. “I’ll tell you—but I want an equally embarrassing story from both of you afterward.”

“Oh.” Cara shrank away and pulled her tankard tight to her chest. “I don’t have any embarrassing stories.”

“Really?” Flutters filled Jake’s chest. He took another sip. The bitterness wasn’t so bad, once you got to know it better.

Her eyes widened. A slight shake of her head.

Should he share? Probably not. Better question—which story, shit tasting or archery?

***

Jake shook his head, unable to turn away from the train wreck in motion. “How is he even still standing?”

Cara shrugged. “Because of the booze, or the injuries?”

“Good question.” He cocked his head. Everything was a little slow and fuzzy. “Both, I guess?”

“Orc racials? Seventeen Endurance?” She rested her head on Jake’s shoulder. “How does he make it work?”

The female orc on Gramok’s arm laughed and clapped him on the back. Gramok looked their way and waved, before heading off with the woman.

A tug pulled at Jake’s stomach. No train wreck this time. How? His jaw clenched. He couldn’t even blame the difference on Personality. “I think that means he’ll see us in the morning.”

“That, or it was a cry for help. Guess we’ll find out tomorrow.”

Jake giggled. Tiny teeth nibbled at his earlobe. He pressed the metal tankard against his lips, and only a dribble answered the call. He frowned. “I’m out.”

Fen appeared, flagon in hand.

“No.” He held his hand over his empty tankard. “I’m done for the night.”

She shrugged and switched for a flagon barely touched all night. “I won’t talk you into free booze, but drink this.” She hovered above his covered tankard, ready to pour. “Trust me—you’ll thank me in the morning.”

Jake tugged at his bottom lip. She hadn’t led them wrong yet. He moved his hand, and crystal-clear water flowed into his tankard. He tilted his head, blurry thoughts arranging themselves in his mind. “You want the heroes of the hour to keep drinking.”

Another shrug. “You humans need your water, they need their booze, I need their money. Everyone wins!”

He snorted. When was that ever true?

***

Jake shrugged. Did it really matter? “Maybe they’re not so hung up on Heroes?”

“After everything they did? They slaughtered everyone, not just wood elves!” Cara’s clenched fists darted behind her back and she plastered on a smile. “Good morning, Gramok!”

“Morning!” His voice bellowed, but he clutched his side. “Hope you guys had a lovely evening. Ready for breakfast?”

Breakfast? Cara met Jake’s gaze and rolled her eyes. She wasn’t taking this one.

Guess it falls to me. “We had breakfast hours ago.”

Gramok looked up at the sun high in the sky. “Ah. Right.” A moment’s pause, and that grin was back. “Lunch then?”

“Sure, whatever.” Jake gulped. How best to address it? “Last night… you called us the heroes of the hour?”

“Quite so! Are you not?” Gramok froze. His eyes closed, and he looked away. “Yunkatran. You elves are still hung up on the Age of Heroes, aren’t you?”

Cara’s eyes narrowed. “Wood Elves.”

“They’re all long gone or dead. What does it matter? They were mighty warriors. You are mighty warriors.” His shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean offense by it.” The silence dragged out, and he chuckled. “I guess all those cultural etiquette classes didn’t really pay off.”

Jake looked around. The coast was clear. It wouldn’t get any easier. He moved closer. “What if I was a Hero?”

A pause. Had it been a mistake?

Gramok laughed and clapped him on the back. “That’s a good one. You nearly had me!”

Level 6 yesterday, almost level 8 today. Jake bit his lip. Gramok would figure it out soon enough, anyway. “I mean it. I died from my wounds in that temple, after clearing it.”

“You come back from the dead?” Gramok clutched his belly and roared with laughter. “Why didn’t you say so sooner? Would have saved me a lot of worrying. Maybe I’d even have a few of those sandwiches left. No wonder you think you stand a chance! Is it true you level faster?”

***

The main road north was paved and wide enough for two wagons. That didn’t stop Cara from skipping barefoot in the dirt beside the road, singing an Orcish drinking song with more than questionable pronunciation.

Three days of this, at the very least. Maybe coming back from the dead wasn’t such a good idea after all. “What do you know about the Ruins of Tarkath?”

“Not a lot.” Gramok scratched his head. “Old dwarven city, used to be really big in runic enchanting until we clobbered it during the Age of Heroes. Now it’s pretty much just one big dungeon, with a boring little town above it. Legend has it there are Zelnari ruins beneath it all, but no one’s crazy enough to go down there to check.”

“Orcs destroyed the city?” Jake bit his lip. He had to be missing something. “Don’t they like to hold on to grudges?”

“Hold on to grudges? No.”

Coiled muscles relaxed. “Good. You had me worried there.”

“Holding onto something for ten thousand years is hard. Chiseling it into rock is much more efficient.”

Jake’s body clamped right back down again. “Is that… Are you joking?”

“Thank you!” Gramok threw up his hands and beamed. “That’s exactly what I said!”

“Do they hold grudges or not?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe! But—and it’s a big but, you can’t not like it—my family does a lot of business with them. Dwarves hate to mix business and pleasure.”

“Right.” Jake bit his lip. Was that supposed to be reassuring?

Gramok shrugged. “They’re not so bad, just don’t expect a warm welcome. Valbort’ll be fine. It’s the ruins below you should be worried about.”

“How very comforting. I don’t suppose you know much about the Zelnari?”

Gramok shook his head. “I always figured they were a tale to frighten little kids at night, like Heroes. Archaeology’s your business. I’ll stick to stabbing things with a side order of smack downs.”

***

The wind howled outside. Jake rubbed his hands together and warmed them over the campfire. “We’d never have found this cave without you.”

Cara looked up, and Nibbles darted up onto her head. “Speak for yourself, Jake ‘Four Perception’ Tolabar.”

Squeak! Squeak!

“That’s Jake ‘Four Perception’ Tolabar So’aroaska, thank you very much.”

“I dunno. Can you really call yourself a ranger with those stats?”

Gramok leaned back and laughed.

“Alright.” Jake stood up and flexed what little muscle he had. “I challenge you to a one-minute race or an arm wrestle, your choice.”

“Sure.” She followed suit and grinned. “No magic or bullshit battlemage abilities.”

“When you put it like that…” Jake pressed his lips together tight. “Anyway, I’ve been thinking. Could I teach you the Dispel effect somehow, without casting it?”

Cara tilted her head and her face scrunched up. “Could you write it down? I could try learning from that.”

Gramok shook his head. “He can’t.”

Heat rose in Jake’s chest. “How do you know I can’t?”

“Is your Spellcrafting level 10 yet?”

Fuck. His heart sank. “It’s a Specialization, isn’t it?”

“Yup. Finding Spellcrafters is bad enough. The rate specialists charge is daylight robbery.” Gramok paused and shrugged. “Guess it has to be, given how often they blow themselves up. Incidentally, if you ever give up adventuring, I could hook you up with a small fortune.”

Jake snorted. “Good to know I have a marketable skill. Shame I have to save the world first.”

***

Cara’s pulse raced. Rock, rock, and more rock. If she kept moving, it would all be okay. There wasn’t anything to worry about. The tunnels had been stable for millennia; they weren’t going to collapse now.

Why would anyone willingly live their lives underground? No sky, no trees, no grass. She breathed deeply. Ugh, stale air. And so many sharp little rocks, everywhere, declaring war on her feet.

She leaned against the wall, closed her eyes, and ran her finger down the worn wall. Had the stone been smooth once? How many years ago had the dwarves crafted it? Would they have bothered if they’d known the eventual fate of Tarkath?

Tiny stones rattled ahead, kicked by clumsy feet. Oh, Jake…

“You okay?” Gramok towered over her, his brow wrinkled.

She nodded. She could handle it. Her poor bare feet, though… “Yeah. Just all these stupid little stones!” Kicking them only made it worse.

“I have some spare boots, if you need them.”

“I’ll be alright.” She sighed heavily. “Thank you.”

“Let me know if you change your mind.”

That little twist in her gut clenched, just to drive how stupidly easy a fix it was. There were already boots in her pack. Anytime she wanted, she could pull them out, put them on, and make Jeremy right all over again. She growled and wrenched her pack off her back.

“It’s not a weakness to wear boots, you know. Hell, I wear sabatons sometimes!”

Cara snorted. “It’s not that.” She pulled out the stupid boots Jeremy had insisted she take. He’d even put bloody socks in them.

Metal armor clanked against stone. “Oh.”

She sat down, dusted off her suffering feet, and pulled on the socks and boots. Gah, of course they’d fit perfectly.

“Who is it you don’t want to be right? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Her chest tightened. “That obvious?”

A half-shrug, and another of his stupidly infectious grins. “I might have made a mistake or twelve not wanting old Lord Kadora to be right.”

“Jeremy.” The world pulled down on her limbs. “My mentor.” He wouldn’t have let pride get in the way. She bit her lip. She’d never be half as good a Ranger as him, but they were stuck with her. “Are we going to die?”

He chuckled. “Of course we are.”

Her heart sank. She stared up at him. How could he grin about that?

“But not today.” He pulled her to her feet and clapped her on the back. “I’m going out old, wrinkly, and full of tindovarg—and you damned well better be singing at my funeral.”

Laughter forced itself out of her. “Didn’t you say I butchered your language worse than a monk organizing a party?”

“We can fix that. Getting Jake to join in? That’s the true prize.”