It was night by the time Andy had had enough. Dragon or no dragon, he wasn’t going to stay stuck inside. Besides, he’d had the generator running for most of the evening after he’d returned to the trailer. In town, all he could do was hurry up and wait. At least at home he could read, and more importantly, he could tend to his small crop, which he needed power for anyway. It was too close to harvest to give up on now, and even with fuel being rationed, he figured he had at least a few more days to get some use out of it. Legalisation had, of course, made the crop far less profitable, but Andy still preferred it to his own private supply.

But it was getting late, and Andy still preferred to smoke his nightcap before bed. If a dragon was going to swoop down and eat him anyway, he might as well be stoned when it happens. He lit the end of the joint, and inhaled deeply.

"Andy? You still up?" Billy asked, approaching him from the dark. Billy had also chosen to stay at home despite the danger.

“It ain’t Prince Charming,” Andy replied as Billy approached. He offered the joint to his neighbour.

Billy considered it for a moment, then decided to sit down as he took the joint from him. He inhaled, then handed it back in a fit of coughing.

Andy had to chuckle. Billy always accepted the offer, but always coughed his lungs out on the first hoot. He was used to it. After Margo, Andy’s wife, had passed away, it became something of a ritual.

“So,” Andy said. “Dragons and magic spells. Never would have seen that coming.”

“Yeah,” Billy continued. “You hear about Old Marie? Word is she got the healing touch. Her grandson scraped his knee this afternoon and all she did was touch him and it was like it never even happened.”

“That right?” Andy asked. He chuckled to himself. “Ironic, though. You think it’ll grow her legs back and fix her hearing?”

Billy shrugged. “Wouldn’t that be a thing?” he asked. “I doubt it. I think it only works on fresh wounds. Can’t heal scars.”

“Same as it ever was,” Andy replied. He absently ran his thumb around the scar near his collarbone. “Some scars shouldn’t heal anyway. Lest we forget what put ‘em there in the first place.”

“Didn’t you get shot?”

“Shrapnel,” he said. “We were on our way to protect a Kurdish refinery, SCUD missile took out two thirds of the convoy. I woke up in a field hospital and that was the end of my time as a grunt.”

“I thought you were in for years,” Billy replied.

“Yeah I went back to school. Became a commissioned Officer before I met Margo. Quit in ‘96, then we decided to move to Canada.”

Billy resumed talking, but Andy found his attention drawn away to some movement nearby. Was it the dragon? Something else? Every slight branch blowing in the wind set Andy on edge, but this seemed different. Bigger.

Man-sized. In the dark, he barely caught sight of a dark shadow moving past the trashcans near Amos’s trailer. As Billy spoke, Andy levelled his attention to the shape. Was it Amos? No, Amos was a gaunt old man. This was a kid. He moved spryly, but was much more bulky than Amos. He strained his eyes, trying to adjust them to the light.

“Billy, you wanna pass me my rifle?” Andy asked.

“Rifle?” He suddenly stopped. “Why–” He paused as he looked off in the direction Andy was looking. A moment later, he, too, saw it. “Shit.”

Whoever was lurking near Amos’ trailer suddenly became aware he’d been seen, and dropped all pretence of trying to hide. He stood up, and took a step toward them. The sound of metal sliding against metal punctuated the air.

“Billy, the rifle,” Andy said.

Billy reached over to the side, grabbing Andy’s rifle. He stood up. “Hey!” Billy exclaimed. “Who’s there?”

The shape seemed suddenly distracted by a noise coming from the other side of the trailer, and for a brief moment, a light passed over him. The stranger wasn’t very old, perhaps in his twenties. But what struck Andy wasn’t the age of the stranger, but what he was wearing. Mismatched leather armour, black breeches, and in his hand he held a sword.

"Billy, dammit!" Andy sprung out of his chair just as the kid screamed. He held the sword over his head and ran straight towards them. "Billy, shoot him!" Andy screamed, as he sprinted for his front door to grab his second rifle just inside.

"Hey, kid! Wait!" Billy said. He just stood there, like a deer caught in headlights as the kid charged toward him.

Andy reached around the corner of the door jamb. He looked up just in time to see the kid drive his sword right through Billy Jessup.

"Billy!" he screamed. He fumbled with the rifle for a moment, the shock of witnessing the event preventing him from getting a decent grip.

The kid turned towards him, put a foot on Billy's chest, then used it as leverage to pull the sword out. Billy hit the ground with a lifeless thud, the rifle fell to one side.

"Free Men filth!" the kid exclaimed. Andy still fumbled with his gun. He couldn't focus! The kid was getting closer.

Suddenly, a shot went off. The kid stopped in mid-step. He looked at Andy with a look of both confusion and shock. Had he been hit?

"Drop your weapon!" Andy heard from behind the kid, around the corner of his trailer. He recognized that voice instantly. Sergeant Boone. The kid seemed fine, if a little confused. But he hadn’t been hit.

Strangely enough, the introduction of a cop served only to tighten his resolve. He raised the rifle and pointed it directly at the kid's head.

"Drop it, you piece of shit!" he exclaimed.

The kid just looked back at him. His face tightened up, and exploded into a fit of rage. He took another step.

Andy pointed the gun at the kid’s mid-section, then pulled the trigger. The bullet hit him square in the side. He yelped in shock and fell to the ground, heaving for breath. Andy trained his rifle on the kid. A moment later, Sergeant Boone ran up and kicked the sword out of the kid’s reach.

"Party's not over yet," Boone exclaimed. He swung his pistol and flashlight toward the darkness now visible from behind the trailer. He pointed his pistol towards Amos' trailer. Andy could see Amos' looking out his window, his eyes wide with shock. It was almost comical, and Andy would have laughed if he had not noticed the other three soldiers that were now watching them. They seemed to be considering whether or not they should risk attacking them.

Boone took a shot, and hit one of the men dead in the shoulder. The one he hit fell to the ground, and then quickly scrambled to his feet, cradling his shoulder. “Retreat!” he yelled.

The other man didn't need to be told. They did what they thought was prudent, and turned tail.

A moment later, they were all out of sight.

“Billy!” Andy yelled, then quickly attended to his friend while Boone cuffed the wounded soldier Andy had shot. He rolled him over onto his back, but it was clear from the vacant expression on his face that it was too late. “Come on, now. Billy!”

There was blood everywhere. Billy himself had gone limp. Andy took a moment to check his pulse.

Nothing.

Billy Jessup was dead.

Andy took a moment before he turned his head toward the soldier that Boone had cuffed. “You bastard!” he yelled, then aimed his rifle directly at the kid’s head.

“Whoa,” Boone said. “Ease up there. He’s done. Ain’t nothing he can do now.”

“Did you even see that? He just killed Billy! Like he was nothing!”

Boone stepped between Andy and the soldier. “And if we don’t get him medical attention, he’s going to bleed out and die and he’ll never have to answer for what he did.” He pointed at the man. “We need First Aid, not another murderer.”

For a moment, Andy considered just pulling the trigger anyway. But when he met Boone’s eyes, he realised he was right. Whatever the soldier had done, whoever he was with, they needed him alive. For information if nothing else.

Andy lowered his rifle. “Goddammit,” he swore. He leaned the gun against the side of his trailer and ran inside. A moment later, he emerged with a First Aid kit and knelt down over the soldier.

The soldier tried to scramble away, but found that between the wound and the handcuffs, he wasn’t going anywhere. “What did you do to me, you–”

“If you want to survive this, then I’d shut the fuck up,” Boone said, interrupting him. “And let the man treat the wound. Otherwise you’ll bleed out. Now do you want that, or would you rather live?”

The man looked between the two of them, and winced in pain, but said nothing. Andy checked the man’s armour. It was fastened loosely around his side. The bullet punched right through it into his abdomen. He loosened the armour and managed to lift it up enough to get a clear view. He rolled up a length of gauze and pressed it against the man’s side.

“The hell are you doing here?” Andy asked.

“Nice to see you, too, Andy,” Boone said. He looked over to Billy Jessup’s lifeless form. “I should have come earlier.”

“You think?” Andy glanced up at him with a sour look on his face. After a moment, he sighed. “Thank you,” he said, looking away. “If you hadn’t been there, I don’t know what else might have happened.”

“How’s the wound?”

“Better than he deserves,” Andy said. “I’ll keep pressure on it for now, but you better get an ambulance here, otherwise all bets are off.”

With a nod, Boone keyed in his radio. “Ten-Tango, I need a ten-sixty-four down at Kamper’s Korner. Two victims. One deceased, the other with a gunshot wound.”

“The hell is going on out there?” Amos yelled from his trailer.

“Just stay put, Amos!” Andy yelled. “It’s not safe.”

“Ain’t never been safe,” Amos responded. He then trailed off, grumbling as he went back into his trailer.

“So why are you here?” Andy asked, looking back to Boone.

“I seem to recall a story about a retired US Army Intelligence Officer around these parts. Came to talk to him.”

Andy looked up to him. “What about?”

Boone only nodded toward the wounded soldier. “Seems to me you already know what about. We’ve got a number of veterans in town. A bunch of reservists. A few active duty members of the CAF. We have mostly infantry, a few with some command experience. But nobody seems to have any experience in gathering intelligence.”

“So what, you thought you’d recruit me to the Canadian Armed Forces? Pretty sure that violates our treaty,” Andy said.

“Needs to be a Canada for there to be a treaty. Not to mention an America,” Boone said. “Considering the circumstances, I figured you were our best shot for the Ladysmith Defence League.”

Andy raised an eyebrow. “Ladysmith Defence League?” He asked. “You make it sound like a fuckin’ comic book.”

“Maybe the name could use some work,” Boone replied. “But the point stands. We need your help.”

“You know what I’ve been doing for the past fifteen years?” Andy asked. “Smoking pot and reading Clive Cussler books. I’m a little out of practice.”

“Maybe, but you probably have some sort of insight as to what to do to next,” Boone said. “I’m not going to force you into it, Andy, but we could really use your help.”

Andy sighed, and looked over to Billy’s lifeless body. He then looked back down to the wounded soldier.

“Fine,” he said after a moment. “But I’ll be fucked if we’re gonna call it the Ladysmith Defence League.”

“Can’t sleep?” Ryan asked from the balcony next to Terra’s. His presence nearly caused her to yell. She’s been lost deep in thought since she woke up, but he wasn’t wrong. Sleep was just beyond her grasp.

“I could say the same to you,” she said. “It’s three in the morning.”

“Almost twenty-four hours. And already we’re going on the craziest expedition known to man. Deep into the forests of Middle-Earth, just to the right of Westeros and around the bend from Oz.” He almost laughed.

“You’re taking this far too well.”

Ryan shrugged. “Maybe,” he said. “Maybe it hasn’t quite hit me yet. But… I dunno, with everything that happened. Nalya and the others. Your vision. It just feels… right.”

Terra sighed. Despite her protests the day before, she felt the same.

“And for the record,” Ryan added. “I slept like a baby. But I still need to pack. What does one bring on an expedition into the Pactlands?”

“Lily was more interested in what I’m bringing than I was. She spent most of the evening giving Arie a makeover–”

“Arie? The Earth Mage girl?”

Terra nodded. “Yeah, she’ll be staying here while we’re gone,” she explained. “That girl cleans up well, I might add. You won’t even recognize her.”

“I barely remember what she looks like. She was the one dressed up like a piece of charcoal, right?”

Terra laughed, then trailed off into silent thought. “Boomer came by last night,” she said. “He… he might be a Mage too.”

Ryan levelled his gaze at her. “Seriously?”

She nodded. “Mind Mage, Arie said. Psychic. Can read minds, that sort of thing. He’s… not taking it well.”

Ryan took in the information. “Boomer’s… not a big fan of standing out.”

Terra raised an eyebrow. Boomer stood out enough without really having to try. He was almost six foot five. That alone often made him stand out in a crowd. On top of that, he generally wasn’t the type to back down when he saw something that he didn’t think was right. He had a habit of getting involved in situations he probably shouldn’t. For someone who didn’t like to stand out, he certainly did enough of it. For as long as Terra had known Boomer, that was just how he was.

Either way, Ryan seemed to have some insight into Boomer she lacked.

“Hold on, you said he could read minds?” Ryan asked.

“That’s how Arie explained it.”

“Jesus,” he said. “That would suck.”

“How so?” Terra asked.

“Well, think about it. The mystery of people is gone if you always know what they’re thinking. You don’t have to spend time figuring people out. You just know right off the bat whatever it is they’re thinking. You know what their intentions are.” He paused for a moment. “And then the people you think you have figured out the most, the ones that you trust… well, you pick up on one stray thought in a moment of irritation, that’s gotta hit like a ton of bricks.”

“I don’t know if it works like that,” Terra said. She shook her head. “Not that it matters. Boomer’s going to have to deal with it while we’re out of town.”

“Yeah. That. So, what are you bringing for the King?” he asked.

Terra looked over at him in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I guess we’re like foreign dignitaries now. Isn’t giving gifts to foreign powers some sort of rule in that field?”

“What do you even bring to a King?”

Ryan smirked. “A modern King, I wouldn’t have the first clue. But a King in a world without electricity would be amazed by something as simple as a pen light.” He clicked a light on and off in her direction.

“Isn’t that your key chain?” Terra asked. “You’re giving him a key chain?”

“Well I left my solid gold bathtub back on Earth,” he said. “Besides, as simple as it is for us, for him it’d be a wonder. You saw how Nalya and the others were about the radios.”

Terra rummaged around in her pockets and pulled out a safety pin and a Bic lighter. That wasn’t going to do. He might think the lighter was something neat, but it’d eventually run out of fluid. She thought about it for a moment.

“I think I have an old Playboy magazine,” Terra said.

Ryan raised his eyebrow. “I don’t know what kind of guy he is, but that might send the wrong message.”

“Good point,” Terra asked. “Ooh, what about a chocolate bar?”

“For all we know they have chocolate,” he replied. “Besides, if they’re anything like royalty on Earth, they’ll probably dispose of anything edible. Poison and all that. Put some thought into it. Make it small, you don’t want to be lugging something big around.”

“I’m keeping it to a backpack. The one we took hiking last year. A few changes of clothes, my phone. Lily’s lending me her portable battery pack so I can get a few charges out of it. Music would be nice. So would taking pictures.”

“I’m bringing my solar charger,” Ryan said. “Unfortunately, without internet, I can’t listen to my Spotify playlist. I had thousands of songs. Otherwise I might have brought my bluetooth speaker.”

“And now you understand why I download my music from YouTube for free,” Terra said. “Maybe I should bring my speaker.” She paused for a moment. “You should bring your guitar. The acoustic.”

Ryan craned his neck over his shoulder. “I don’t know,” he said.

“Why not? You brought it on the hike last year.”

“After I checked the weather forecast a hundred times to make sure it didn’t rain,” he said.

“It is summer,” Terra said.

“No, on Earth, it’s summer. Here in the Pactlands, it’s… whatever season passes for summer-like. Do they even recognize seasons here?”

“If leaves fall and snow drops, they probably understand the concept of seasons, Ryan.”

“One would hope,” he replied. He yawned, then stretched. “I’m going to cook up the bacon in the fridge before it goes bad. You want some?”

Terra raised an eyebrow and started to salivate. “Are you trying to entice me with meat candy?”

The room was dark, save for the light that projected itself through the gap at the bottom of the door. It was that gap that he watched. It was the first place he looked when he opened his eyes at night, and it was often the last thing he saw before being caught by sleep.

Most nights went by without incident. Those nights were a relief, but he intimately understood that uneventful nights were little more than the debt that accumulated that was meant to be paid in full on others.

Which night was this? Boomer wasn’t sure. He was only partly aware he was dreaming. Would he pass gently to sleep, or would he see the telltale signs of his mother’s feet between the gap at the bottom of the door. He knew to be dead quiet if he saw them. There was a chance, ever so slight, that she would walk away without a sound, satisfied that he was sleeping.

Then there were the nights where she didn’t care if he was sleeping or not. Often it would start with the sound of her fists against the door, and her drunken voice screaming his names. The worst nights were the ones where the sound of her stomping up the stairs were what woke him.

It often started from something small he’d done. He’d forgotten to turn on the dishwasher after loading it. He’d left the garage light on. He left his bicycle in the backyard instead of putting it in the garage. He’d forgotten to water her garden.

Other times, it came from something she’d convinced herself of in her drunken stupor. He was hiding something from her. He’d badmouthed her to his friends. He’d been smoking, or drinking. He was on drugs.

Then came the yelling. The incessant yelling. “You piece of shit!” she’d say. “You’re a terrorist, just like your father! You don’t appreciate anything I do for you! I should have aborted you when I had the chance!”

She would get violent at times, too. Throwing objects– usually breakable objects. Porcelain figurines and plates. Utensils. One time she hit him square in the torso with a rolling pin. She would scratch him, gab and twist at his skin, pinching him with her nails hard enough to draw blood.

And then, when it was over, she’d flip on a switch. She’d cry, apologise. Tell him how much she loved him. Tell him it was for his own good because she cared so much. Tell him if he would only just behave and not lie to her, she wouldn’t have to resort to such measures.

In the morning, she would wake up, never mentioning a word of what had happened the night before. Boomer would go to school, and the whole process would begin again.

When he became an adult, he left home. It was in the dead of the night. He’d packed up his things and moved across the country to a place she could never find him. He left a letter informing her of his decision and left it next to her while she slept off the evening’s alcohol. He changed all of his social media; he refused to go by Cecil. He hated the name. Every time he heard it, he imagined her drunkenly slurring the name.

When he moved to Ladysmith, Boomer was born. It was his nickname among his friends because he’d sprouted up faster than the others, and it stuck. The people he cared for all called in Boomer, and it was the name he’d preferred.

For years, he was deathly afraid of her finding him. He laid low, kept a few good friends. Read books on psychology and addiction in an effort to understand what had happened to him, but he never reached out to her.

Eventually, he felt safe enough to attend school, knowing there was a chance his name might end up on Google searches. But she would have no more power over him. He would make something of himself despite her, not in spite of her.

But still, he didn’t like to stand out. Standing out meant drawing attention, being talked about.

Standing out meant seeing her feet under the door.

In dreams were the only time that happened. Even now, knowing his mother wasn’t just half the country away, but an entire world away did little to ease the terror he felt when he saw them.

He saw the feet that night. Heard her trying the door knob. He never had a lock on his door growing up, but at least in his dreams he could pretend there was. He could manifest huge chains and a padlock, but they did little to block out her voice, or the incessant pounding against the wooden door.

“Cecil, you open this door right fucking now!”

He pulled the covers over his head. Started to hum to himself and count.

One-one thousand.

“You think you’re safe? You think you’ve gotten away, you little shit! I own you!”

Two-one thousand.

“It doesn’t matter where you go, Cecil. It doesn’t matter what you do. I’m always here with you whether you like it or not!”

Three-one thousand.

“You’re never going to amount to anything,” the voice called. “You’re never–”

Four-one thousand.

The voice suddenly started to fade away. It began to sound more distant, less threatening.

He pulled the cover down and peeked at the gap under the door. The feet were still there.

“Boomer,” it said. “Open the door. You must open the door.”

No. He wouldn’t. The door had to remain closed. It had to.

“She can’t hurt you any more, Boomer,” said the voice. “Not here in this place.”

This was new.

“Do not let your fear guide your life. Open the door. Face it head on. You must.”

It was a trick. It had to be. She’d done it before. Acted sweet and apologetic, only to beat him around the head once he emerged.

“The girl can help you, Boomer. She can heal you. And then, you must open the door and come to us. We cannot wait long. The children of the halo need you. We need you.”

He suddenly opened his eyes, breathing heavily. The sun had started to rise, tracing the shadow of his dreamcatcher against the wall of his bedroom. His door was open. Hadn’t he closed it the night before?

He laid still for a moment before slowly swinging his feet to the ground. He’d had that nightmare for years, it recurred once every few weeks. This one was different. His mother’s voice changed. It was like another voice altogether.

But now it was morning in that new world. The second day. A peek out the window confirmed the presence of the strange planet-moon in the sky, staring down at him. His mother wasn’t in that place. Even so, a part of him feared she’d find a way. Even seven years later, she might find a way.

He thought about his dream. The girl can help you. What was that about? He wasn’t given to believing dreams were prophetic. Dreams couldn’t tell him what to do, they could only really reflect his mental state. So what did that mean?

He stood up and walked to the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. He looked normal. His eyes were the same. He had about a day’s worth of stubble on his face.

A Mind Mage, the girl from the previous night had said. Psychic powers? He resisted the idea outright. He didn’t want powers, let alone rare powers. He wanted to go to school and get his degree. He wanted to help kids who went through the same thing he did. He wanted to make something of himself on his own terms, not have untold cosmic powers fall into his lap.

Perhaps it was just intuition that told him what to say the night before. However, he just couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling that she was right. That, like it or not, those untold cosmic powers were a part of him now.

But perhaps they didn’t have to be. Perhaps there was a way to abstain, or better yet, turn them off entirely.

Arie’s face flashed in his memory. The way she looked at him, her eyes filled with trepidation. He hated that look. That was how he looked at his mother when he wasn’t sure if she would harm him or not. He wanted nothing to do with it.

Yet, he didn’t have a choice. The girl might be the only one with any knowledge of how magic worked in the Pactlands. Like it or not, he had to speak with her.

But first, he needed coffee and a shower.

By the time the sun rose, Ryan and Terra were ready to go. They’d packed as light as they could and said their goodbyes to Lily before making their way down to City Hall. To their surprise, Goose was already there with Constable Shepherd and a very tired-looking Sergeant Boone. Goose and Boone were having a heated conversation with Nalya and Bayne while Shepherd and Keltz stood nearby.

“What’s going on?” Ryan asked.

“Your Sergeant has objections to you two going to Halen,” Keltz explained. He looked to Shepherd. “Lady Nalya is attempting to assuage his concerns.”

“He’s not the only one,” Shepherd said. “I’ve been asked to come along, which at least makes sense for reasons of protection. But you two?”

“Hey believe me, I get it,” Terra said. “I’m not keen on this either. But I don’t know how else to explain what I saw.”

“We’re all in uncharted territory here,” Shepherd said. “With magic and everything, we don’t know how to tell what’s real. Goose thinks we shouldn’t be second guessing everything under the circumstances. The Sergeant thinks we should go with a wait-and-see approach.” He looked to Terra. “So it’s true then. You think you had a vision?”

Terra shrugged. “I… feel like I did,” she said. “But I don’t know what a real vision feels like. But if there’s even the slightest chance that not going causes what I saw to happen, then I have to go.”

“I heard a little,” Shepherd said. “Town in flames. People dead, others running. No chance it could have been an overactive imagination?”

“I could smell it,” she said. “And I could see you in the other one, standing there with us.”

“What was I wearing?”

Terra blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Well if you saw me there, I probably wasn’t naked,” Shepherd replied. “I had to be wearing something.”

Terra kept her silence for a moment as she thought about it. “A t-shirt,” she said. “I think it was… a band t-shirt?”

Shepherd raised an eyebrow. “What band?”

“It was black. I’m not sure…” She trailed off. “Queens of the Stone Age?”

Shepherd’s eyes almost popped out of his skull. Silently, he walked over to a car parked nearby and pulled out a backpack. After a moment, he pulled out a black t-shirt and showed it to her. “I just got this last week,” he said. “There’s no way you could have known I had it.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Ryan said.

Both Terra and Shepherd looked to him.

“I mean… it’s crazy, but… it’s a relief to know she didn’t just imagine the whole thing and we’re all going to our doom and all.”

Shepherd sighed. “But knowing that, what happens if I decide to leave this behind?”

“Then the only factor that will have changed is what shirt you are wearing when you reach Cilasia,” Keltz added. “I do not believe something as simple as that could greatly alter the course of events.”

“Alternatively,” Ryan added. “A butterfly flaps its wings in China, and in New York you get a rain storm.”

Keltz looked over to him. “I’m sorry?”

Ryan waved a hand. “It just means things are complex. Small things can have huge consequences. You could be driving around and get dust in your eye, which causes an accident that gets several people hurt. You put a bounty on sparrows, then insects eat your crops. There are always unintended consequences.”

“I see,” Keltz said. “We have a similar saying here. A carelessly thrown pebble blinds the Swift and kills the Siren.”

The three Canadians looked to each other.

“Sure,” Ryan said. “I’m sure that means… something.”

Keltz smiled. “You have much to learn about the Pactlands. It will come in time.”

“Well?” Boone asked Shepherd as he approached them. A man Ryan didn’t recognize was with him.

Cale nodded. “She got it in one,” he said.

“Somehow that doesn’t make me feel better,” Boone replied.

“Wait,” Ryan said. “Is this about the shirt?”

“We had to be sure,” Boone said. “If you’re going to do this, we need some confidence we’re making the right choice.”

“If it’s settled, then,” Nalya added, “might I suggest we be on our way? My men will only wait a little longer.”

Boone nodded. “We’re taking you as far as where we found you,” he said. “We’re lending you the use of four quads, fully fueled, plus enough extra to get you as far as Halen by my estimation. Once you’re there, stash ‘em. We’ll worry about getting them back some other time.” He jabbed a finger at Ryan and Terra. “You two are to be on your best behaviour. You’re not far from who my last choice would be to act as dignitaries, so no horseshit, you got me? Visions of the future notwithstanding, we can’t afford to offend them because we may yet need all the help we can get in order to get through the next month, let alone beyond.”

“We will educate them in the formal etiquette of Halish nobility,” Nalya added. “I’m sure they will be fine.”

“Play nice with them,” Boone added. “And get there in one piece. You’re going to have to give Nalya and Bayne a bit of a crash course on how to drive the quads we’re lending you. Along with the quads, we’re providing a couple of rifles. These are for your use only. No offense to our… guests, but it’s best to leave the guns in the hands of people who are at least familiar with how dangerous they can be.”

“Guns?” Bayne asked. “What’re those?”

“Cale will fill you in,” Boone replied. “Also, I don’t want to alarm you, but we had an incident last night. I just finished filling in Nalya here, but we had an incursion from Vectoran forces last night. Three of them. They killed a man, we captured one but the other two got away. We assume they were doing reconnaissance, so it looks like our secret’s out. We’re fortifying the area south of town, but our borders are mostly undefended. They could come from anywhere.”

“Jesus,” Ryan said. “Who died?”

“William Jessup,” he said. “Resident at Kamper’s Korner. Do you know him?”

Ryan shook his head.

“Bastards ran him through with a sword. Unfortunately, I don’t think he’s going to be the only casualty by the time this is all over. That’s why we need Halen’s help down here. But moreover, we need answers. You’re going to talk with this Blue Seer guy in a city called… what was it?” He looked to Nalya.

“Arronay,” she said. “It’s only a few hours travel from the border with Halen.”

“Right,” he said. “I’m told he’ll only speak to you.” He motioned toward Terra. “We’re providing some equipment for you to record your conversation. If he has any information on how we got here, or how we can get back, that’s going to be invaluable to us. Cale’s already been debriefed, so as far as you two are concerned, he’s in charge. You listen to him. If I hear of any bullshit, there’ll be hell to pay when you come back. Are we good?”

Terra and Ryan both nodded.

“Good,” he said. He motioned to the man standing at his side. “This is Brad Renfrew, he’s part of the Emergency Committee. He’ll be driving up with you as far as this village, Stone’s Mouth. Word is they got coal, and fact is we need coal if we’re going to keep the power going. Lieutenant Wicket will be staying with him until they come back to town, and bringing Nalya’s men back down with them. We have to start making friends here if we’re going to survive.” He looked at the group of them. “So are we good?”

He received a collective nod.

“Good, then godspeed and get moving. Clock’s ticking, people. Get it done.”

With that, they packed into a van, and started the drive up the logging roads toward the Disputed Lands, leaving Ladysmith behind.