Voices. The flickering heat and the touch of fire. Hands roamed his body, removing his clothes. A revolting paste stuffed into his mouth. Hands working his jaw and massaging his throat.

Swallow.

The occasional sip of lukewarm water.

Swallow.

Fever. Sweat.

Lucid dreams. Figures in arcane robes and knightly armour stood against a great storm. A storm filled with monsters and an evil god.

His spirit being devoured.

Hands grasped his thrashing body. A voice speaking, arguing with itself.

A new voice. Drifting on the coat tails of his mind. None before of those who’ve been summoned here have regained anything of their former selves. Why you then? Why now?

Jace gasped as air and lightness surged through, as something inside him depleted, lessened, became vacant. Like a spilled cup, whatever it was he was drawing from spilled out until he was empty.

His lungs lightened, eased, his dreams becoming deeper. Sonorous with the world around him.

This time he stood amongst those figure—he’d seen—standing before the great storm. No. This time he stood at their head and watched as the storm broke against them.

~*~*~*~

Athena panted, struggling to follow behind her aunt as they ran frantically through the woods. Casting the occasional glance back over their shoulder. How stupid they been to believe the wretches would simply leave them alone.

Now their home ablaze with ravenous wretches. The last thing she had seen—before following Marcia and Cain into the trees—was her father, as he fought desperately against the wretches.

The tide was too much for him alone to bare. He went down fighting for them. She’d been weeping tears almost continuously since Jace had sacrificed himself for them. That they had returned in such a large number, Athena could only guess that meant that they’d killed Jace.

Gabrielle bounced in a makeshift harness against her chest. Her daughter had been quiet since the attack. She hadn’t uttered a word since the wretches swarmed into their lot.

“Where - where are we going Marcia?” she asked breathlessly. Her aunt turned, her face contorted in grief, yet she was still determined.

“We’ll followed your fathers… plan…” Marcia panted heavily and cast a look down at Cain. The young boy vacantly staring around. “Head to either the farms or the village.”

“You mean, Jace’ plan,” Athena hissed at her aunt. Who had the good grace to flinch back at her words. “It was his plan to head to them, then onto Oedrin.”

“We cannot trust an outsider’s words,” Marcia snapped back, and shook her head, scowling at her.

“No? But you sure as fuck trusted his sacrifice, didn’t you? You were all too pleased for him to die, so we could live. Yeah well, we paid for that karma rather quickly didn’t we,” Athena spat. She wasn’t usually this venomous or ever this angry. But her aunt was pissing her off. Now her father was dead, and all she was left with was her.

“Your… You’re right,” Marcia replied quietly. Athena kin hearing, picking it up. “But regardless of that, we need to keep moving. If the human was right, we’ll be doing exactly as they wanted. Hopefully they won’t attack us anytime soon.”

“His name was Jace. You should do his death the curtesy of using his name. It was for us that he died after all.” With that Athena stomped passed her stunned aunt, moving ever deeper north west of their home. Hopefully Maypor was still around.

~*~*~*~

Jace shot up in his bed. His mind woozy and filled with haze. His head swayed unsteadily on his neck, rocking side to side as drool fell from his lips.

“W-where am … am I?” his speech was slurred, and he looked around in a daze. For a moment he thought he was back in Douglas’ house. The door banged open and Jace swung his head to peer at it. Stepping inside was a bundled up, old woman. Beyond her, darkness spanned the outside.

A large hound trotted in beside her, going over to rest down tiredly beside the fire place a few feet away from Jace. The hound had to be four-five foot tall standing up. The old woman stomped over to crouch beside Jace. Gripping his chin harshly and twisting him to face her.

There was a ruggedness to her features. Wiry white-grey hair. Lines and deep wrinkles crisscrossing the contours of her visage. She squinted her right eye at Jace, the one he belatedly realised had cataracts forming from the opaqueness, dullness blurring her pupil.

“You’re awake then,” it more of a statement of facts than an actual question. “Good. You would’ve been a poor treat for Marit,” her tongue flicking the end of what Jace guessed was the large hounds name.

“Who are y-you?” Jace asked and closed his eyes as her breath rolled over him. She stank of tobacco smoke and it drifted over Jace, involuntarily breathing it in. He gouged out a rough hoarse cough. And the woman released his chin. Rolling onto his side as he hacked and choked, Jace tried desperately to breathe.

“Take your time, boy. You’ve used up a lot of yourself,” the mysterious woman informed him. “Good idea with the pool, by the way. I saw your handy work. It was well done.”

“Th- thanks,” Jace managed before he was sent into another fit of coughing.

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about thanking me, just yet. Its likely you’ve got Hypothermia after your little stunt with the wretches.”

Fucking great, Jace thought. Shakily-even though he was still coughing—Jace grabbed a hold of the thick fur blanket draped over him and pulled it up. He needed to stay warm.

“If its get worse. Marit and I will take you to the village. I’m sure there’s someone there who can help you.”

“Wh-why are y-you helping m-me?”

There was silence for a brief moment before the old woman responded. “Because, if you hadn’t pulled such a massive horde last night. I imagine none of us living in Trager Forest would’ve seen the new day. You have my thanks for that. Now get some rest, while I cook something hot.”

“Thank you,” Jace murmured burying himself deeper in his blanket. “I’m J-Jace, by the w-way.”

“My names Maypor,” Jace heard her reply quietly, “and don’t thank me until you’re better… boy.”

~*~*~*~

“Maypor!” Athena called out as loudly as she dared. Which really meant she was whispering. They were standing outside of her farmhouse. A large two story, stone and timber structure. Athena had seen plenty of houses like this in Oedrin. Except they were usually narrower, and about three or four stories tall. Oedrin, by Athena standards was already overcrowded. So she couldn’t imagine how much worse it could get in the coming months.

Especially with winter on the horizon. Once Hindus was mid-way-through, the wintery showers of Lundo would be upon them.

“No reply,” Marcia muttered, scanning the house and grounds. “Maybe she’s out the back?”

“Her dog would’ve heard us…” Athena trailed off and unlatched the wooden gate, stepping into the grounds carrying Gabrielle protectively.

Her ears twitched, swivelling to detect even the slightest of noises. Her nose picking up the heavy odour of the iron filings Maypor tended to sprinkle around her porch.

According to the few people Athena had talked to about Maypor, the old human woman, still suspected the fae of intervening in their lives.

Whether iron stopped the undead was another matter. There was a wet splosh then, and both her and her aunt twisted towards the noise. It was coming from behind the house. Marcia waved her hand at Athena and passed Cain off to her.

Crouching down onto all fours, Marcia prowled forward towards the corner of the house like an actual fox. her nose twitched heavily and scrunched up in disgust. Peeking her head out and around, she froze. Her ears flattening, and her tail bushed out.

She bit her bottom lip, to quiet her instinctive growl.

Just out off to the left-back of Maypor’ farmhouse, were four wretches all feasting greedily on a Lurka corpse. Marcia knew Maypor had kept quite a few Lurka, though she couldn’t quite remember if the human woman had bred them or not.

Knowing so, may help them in their escape.

As quietly as possible Marcia backed up and twisted silently to appraise her deceased sister-wife daughter. Who had very much come into her own. Marcia had to constantly remind herself that Athena wasn’t Amaya. Holding up four of her clawed tip fingers, Marcia waved Athena back further.

“They’re four of them around the back. They’re eating a Lurka,” Marcia added hastily as she saw the panic in the Athena’ eyes.

“What should we do?” Athena hissed.

“I want to check the barns. Do you know if Maypor bred Lurka or not?”

Athena bit her plump bottom lip, “maybe…? I’m sorry. I can’t…” Marcia hugged her briefly, giving her a firm reassuring squeeze.

“It’s okay. We will get through this. Understood?”

Athena nodded and held a bit tighter to Gabrielle. She wasn’t at all used to sneaking around or lying low. They’d left Oedrin after the riots got too out of hand there. What with her mother dying and all. She still remembered the mass panic, as the towns lord had finally decided he’d had enough and set the guard on the protesters.

It had gotten bloody fast. And soon enough the town was divided into two quarters. As the guard had quarantined most of the races that weren’t either Human, or Kin. They’d just ended up on the wrong side of the divide.

Marcia took Cain back from Athena and tugging her son behind her, she slowly climbed up the steps onto the porch and towards the front door.

Athena followed behind staying slightly crouched and shifting Gabrielle in her arms. Her daughter looked at her, and stuck her chubby thumb into her tiny mouth. Athena smiled and refocused on her aunt. Marcia stood to the side of the door, and sliding over she slowly twisted the iron door knob. They heard a soft click, as it unlatched and swung open slightly, she poked her head inside.

The interior of the house was quite grand, reminding Marcia of the manor’s she’d been through back in Oedrin. Inside all was quiet. Stepping through the entrance threshold she pivoted her ears, twitching them back and forth, searching out any hints of noise.

The place was a complete mess. Marcia guessed it had been thrashed by wretches, or by vandals.

The scent of iron was thick inside the house. Marcia found herself shrinking away internally from all the animal head mounts hanging on the walls. She’d heard that Maypor’ husband—when he was alive—had been something of an avid hunter. Sometimes trekking out for days and weeks on end pursuing something or other.

Marcia had only been hunting a few times, and had enjoyed it. Whereas her sister-wife Amaya had simply sniffed at the prospect of going all natural. It had been during one of those hunting trips with Douglas, where they’d finally consummated their bond, and she became his second wife. The very same day Amaya had been killed in the Oedrin riots.

“Maypor!” she hissed, her hearing only picking up the soft tread of Athena boots behind her.

“I think she’s left,” Athena noted, and Marcia couldn’t help but agree.

“Let’s look for anything useful. Don’t worry about stealing. If that old crow has abandoned this place, then its fair gain.” Marcia smiled slyly. They both moved for the stairs.

~*~*~*~

“Here you go. Now drink up, boy.” Maypor tilted the small bowl for Jace to sip from. His shakes had gotten worse, to the point that the last two bowls of stew had spilled mostly over himself and the fur blanket.

“Stop chattering your teeth,” the old woman said brusquely.

Jace took a sip and had a hard time swallowing. “I’ll… give you… s-s-something to… ch-chatter… about,” he retorted and scowled in annoyance at her.

The old woman smiled winningly, “there’s that fighting spirit. Now shut up and drink. Swear its like feeding a toddler.”

“O-or… an… old b-bat,” Jace retorted again and drank. His head rocked from the sharp cuff delivered to the of his head. Yet he saw her eyes crinkle in amusement. “H-how much… w-worse can this g-get?” He closed his eyes briefly, hating the sounds of his stammering voice.

A thought struck him then and opening his eyes, he twisted to look at his left forearm. There was nothing there, no wound nor sucker marks. It was completely clean and devoid of any injuries.

“How’d y-you.. f-f-fix my f-forearm?” he asked the older woman in wonder.

“Your arm? You fixed that yourself. Fastest healing I’ve ever seen on a Magi, I guessed you were too depleted from your run and your fight in the pool, to dispel all the ailments of your body. Otherwise I would’ve just left you there,” Maypor replied, and then frown as she saw Jace look of disbelief. “I’m no saint, boy. I have enough troubles of my own,” she defended rather tersely. Mistaking his lack of response as judgment.

“No,” Jace shook his head, he opened his mouth to say, but stopped. Pressured surged through his mind like an avalanche, he groaned and clutched at his head. The intensity was raw and unbridled.

“What is it?” Maypor hissed, grabbing Jace’ shoulders as he nearly collapsed. The wall he’d built in his mind—when he was in the pool—was crumbling brick by brick.

“They’re here,” he croaked out through gritted teeth.

Maypor frowned, “who-” she began but then Marit, her hound who’d been silent started to growl. His hackles rising, and standing on end.

“I- I think, there’s a Dweller among them this time.”

“Oh shit. Boy, I need you to try and stand on own by the time I get back, got it?” Maypor stood and Jace nodded his head dumbly.

God this hurt, he thought. Maypor cursed as she stomped throughout the room slinging essentials and whatever she could find into a few rucksacks.

Jace fought against the mental assault. Filling the gap in his mental wall, as each one broke apart and fell away. But too soon, were they falling all to quickly for him to reinforce. He guessed that somehow the Dwellers were trying to track him down. By sending out waves of mental force, like sonar, then latching onto an absence of feedback.

Climbing shakily too his feet, Jace braced himself on all fours, his head lolling. He wanted to puke with each racking movement that jarred his body. Sweat amassed on his brow, yet even unsteadily Jace stood his ground.

In his mind, he erected another wall, this one considerably shoddier than the last one.

Maypor came sprinting in, “we have to go now!” She demanded and running over she practically picked Jace up and carried him through the room and out into the open night air.

Each brush of cold wind, sent him into a fit of shivering and as his body racked with frigid rigidity. Jace could now hear the howling inhuman cries of the wretches passing along the wind.

The attacks on his mind stopped. His mental barrier no longer being assaulted. Maypor placed him in the back of a wagon and climbed onto the drivers bench. Marit jumping up to sit beside her. A second later, she cracked the reins and the wagon set off so abruptly it jarred Jace about.

He heard the hissing huff of the Lurka pulling the wagon. He was stuffed in the back between sacks of goods, and even spotted his own belongings. Then he saw the numbers sprinting out of the forest surrounding Maypor’ manor house - or was it a farmhouse? She hadn’t kept him inside there at all. Jace figured that was a smart move on her end.

The wretches would sooner attack a larger established home first before moving onto the smaller ones. If their goal was, as Jace thought it so. Gathering the fur blanket around himself, he trained his eyes, focusing on how the horde moved.

They swarms like rats around the house first, beating against the windows and doors. There was easily enough there, that could’ve simply broke inside and killed any occupants. Some of the mass broke off and headed for the stables. He hoped there weren’t any Lurka inside, but a few seconds later one broke out through the stable doors yowling and hissing. Wretches clinging to it as they bit and gouged the beastly reptile.

It was then, that the horde ransacked the farmhouse. Swarming in through the windows and doors, some even vaulted back out, to hit the ground with a thump.

Scare tactics? Jace thought curiously. The Dweller commanding them, is guessing that the home owner is nearby hiding. Make enough noise and carnage, then see if they run. Jace buried his head deeper in the blankets.

“Wake up,” something cold hit his face. Jace jarred awake and the shivers returned with a vengeance. He wanted to tell Maypor to fuck off. But his throat was so sore, and swallowing made him convulse like he was about to be sick.

“Damn, May. What the hell did you do to the boy?” and man’s voice joked.

“This boy, Gerard. Fought against forty-five wretches, and won.” There was an air of silence then and Jace tried to fold himself and sit up.

“Then what’s wrong with him?” the man, Gerard asked her.

“He’s got hypothermia,” Maypor told him bluntly.

“Any bites?”

“None.”

“What about… the…?” Jace heard him whistle a note.

“I saw him killed two of them, Gerard. The boy can fight, and he’s not stupid either.”

“T-t-thanks,” Jace muttered with a groan as he managed to sit upright finally. “L-love you to-o, M-Maypor.” He heard her snort then, and felt it when Marit jumped up on to the wagons bed. The big hound coming over and sit right beside Jace, lodging himself up against him.

“He needs to see Joanna, Gerard. Otherwise he won’t make it,” Maypor told the man. Jace actually saw him then. He was a broad-shouldered man, with a rotund belly, thick ginger hair, beard and eyebrows. His ears Jace noticed were pointed like an elf’s. His eyes were a dull violet. Seemingly misplaced on the gruff looking visage.

“You got the coin for that?” Gerard asked Maypor, who shook her head.

“They swarmed my entire estate last night. I doubt there’s much left considering how many there were,” Maypor sighed heavily.

“Damn…” Gerard breathed, then nodded.

“Besides, I think Joanna will want to see him,” Maypor grinned slyly. Gerard raised a bushy eyebrow, but Maypor shrugged and said nothing else. Sighing, the burly man waved them through. Jace set to rocking slightly as he rode backwards into the village.

It had high staked lumber walls, treaded with thick cables of cordage. The houses were squat, one story things with wide areas spacing between each home. Some had gardens filled with various vegetable or fruit growing. Or, Jace thought, wilting is more like it.

As they moved he saw all manner of people going about their day. Some stopping to wave at Maypor, or even peering into the wagon bed. All who saw him, wondering at who he was. Jace could just imagine the rumours already.

A few minutes later the wagon stopped, and he heard Maypor jumped down off the bench. “Marit,” she called, and the hound shuffled to his paws beside Jace and stretched. Maypor stuck her head in the back to look at him, “wait here. We’ll be back in a moment.” With that she walked off, Marit trotting at her heel.

~*~*~*~

Athena held her breath and squeezed her eyes shut as she a deep shuddering breath. She was hiding in the bedroom opposite the one Marcia and Cain had gone into. It was then that she had heard feet shuffling down the hall from the back of the second floor.

She’d stuffed herself and Gabrielle in Maypor’ large bedroom closet, burying herself deep within. Softly sliding the clothes hanging in front of her aside slightly. Athena peered out through the gap, her breath expelling shakily.

The door to the room, creaked open and a haggard wretch swayed inside like a drunk. Her ears flattened as she heard its rasping breath and her own breathing hitched.

In that moment all she wanted to do was shut her eyes and curled up on the floor. Then she heard another sound, coming from across the corridor. A door banging open. The wretch twisted it rictus of a visage and looked over its shoulder. But it didn’t leave or go and investigate.

Squeezing her eyes shut again she leaned far to the right and away from the wretches line of sight as it turned back. It shuffled further into the room, moving deeper towards the open closet door.

Athena cursed herself then. She should’ve closed the doors. But her mind had simply fried beyond the thought of hiding. Gabrielle squirmed in her arms, chewing at her thumb.

The wretch came closer, and a scream pierced the air. It sounded like Marcia, and peering partially out of the closet. She saw the wretch smile as it twisted looking around the room.

The entirety of its mouth was nothing more than exposed jaws and stained teeth. The skin around its mouth and neck was gone, torn off. Its lips gone as well. She could see how it’s tongue lulled through gap beneath its bottom jaw.

She swallow reflexively, and grabbing a hold of Gabrielle, she swung the harness slowly over her head and shoulders. Bending down she flinched as another scream, this one of terrifying anger or frustration pelted her ears. She hoped Marcia was okay.

The sound of something shattering and a deep thump reverberated through the floor. Placing her daughter down with care, she shushed her lightly. Righting herself back up, Athena took a deep breath and leaning back towards the gap she froze in horror to see the wretch standing there, and staring at her menacingly. She screamed as its hands grabbed around her face and threw her bodily out of the closet.

Athena hit the ground and tumbled, the air whooshing out of her and she screamed again scurrying on her hands and knees away, as the wretch lunged on top of her.

~*~*~*~

Maypor stepped inside the small healers shop. The few people waiting inside to be seen, got up and left as she entered. “Well, you know it’s going to be a good day when you simply entering scares off my customers, Maypor.”

Looking around Maypor saw Joanna, using a Magi brush to paint a rune above the twisted knee of a small half-elven boy.

Joanna was rather beautiful for her age. If you considered the unnatural beauty of elves as such. And the fact that Joanna was as old as Maypor herself. One could become rather jealous. But Maypor liked being older. She liked looking old as well

People didn’t cross you so much. And you were righteous when you beat the piss out of them when they did cross you.

“I’ve got a patient for you, old woman,” Maypor said and leaned against the wall inside just by the door. Marit coming over and sitting dutifully beside her

“Okay. Let me finish up with Lue here, then see to those you haven’t run off yet. Then I’ll see whoever you’ve got outside,” Joanna replied and placing her brush down, she murmured softly to the young boy. As he lead down, Joanna placed left hand above the rune and starred into space as she channelled her Mana.

The boy gasped, and cried out in pain as the knee twisted back into place, mending. The flesh wound where some bone had broken through, didn’t mend though.

It would require, cleaning, stitching, and bandaging. There was still the possibility of infection setting in or the bone mending wrong.

“I think you’ll want to see this one, Jo,” Maypor said, her voice sounding awed and hushed. Maypor had seen Joanna work her rune magic quite a few times. She was nothing special. No high Magus. Yet even Joanna’ small runic channelling was a wonder to watch.

“Ugh,” Joanna grumbled, turning her pure blue slanted eyes up at Maypor. “What ails this patient then?” she asked the old woman.

Maypor shrugged her shoulders, “hypothermia.” Joanna blinked her eyes owlishly for a few second, staring at her old friend.

“May. I mend bones. If you wanted a cure for a cold or a rash, you’d go to the Shaw’ lot. Not me. I mend the skeletal structure only. I’ve no heat potions, nor hot scotch. Take them somewhere else,” Joanna waved dismissively.

Walking over Maypor leaned against Joanna’s desk. “He’s different,” Maypor assured her. “Trust me, Jo. I wouldn’t be here, if I didn’t believe so.”

They stared at one another for a long while. Maypor could hear the muted coughs and groans of the other patient’s Joanna needed to attend too. She hated to drop this on her oldest friend. But, the boy would likely die if he didn’t receive help.

Medication of a magical variety tended to help those of a magical nature.

Having spent a good thirty years in Trager woods, and befriending Joanna. Maypor knew it when she felt magic at work. There was always a lightness to the air. An unburdening of gravity. The world seemingly holding its breath.

She felt that with Jace.

“Fine,” Joanna acquiesced reluctantly. “Where is he, then?”

“Outside,” Maypor said, and jutted her head towards the door of Joanna’ shop/clinic.

“Outside? May, its freezing out there,” Joanna hissed and grabbing the scarf around her neck she pushed it over head to until covered the majority of her long-pointed ears. Her long silken blonde hair already pulled back in a high pony tail. So long that it still hung just above her bottom.

Storming out of the shop, with Maypor in toe, Joanna shivered. She wasn’t at all dressed for the weather, only in a plain spun grey dress.

“There,” Maypor pointed at her wagon. They walked over with Marit loping ahead of them to jump onto the wagons bed. Coming around the back, Maypor stayed behind Joanna letting the mender leading the way.

“H-h-hey, b-boy,” Maypor heard Jace mumble. And coming too, she saw that his skin was now a light bluish, mottled with a cold raw pink. His eyes were closed, yet his shaky hand rubbed small circles on top of Marit’ bowed head. His breathing was now a drawn deep rasp, that rattled out of him.

“We need to get him somewhere warmer,” Joanna told her, and holding up the hem of her dress, the mender climbed onto the wagon going over to the boy.

“Your shop?” Maypor asked, her throat dry and crackling from the cold air.

“No,” Joanna shook her head. “His immune system is waay too weak to be anywhere near some of my patients. No, we’ll move him to my place.”

Maypor nodded and walking around to the front of the wagon she hopped up and shuffled onto the bench. They rumbled around the back of Joanna’ shop and towards a house not at all dissimilar to all the other houses in this nameless village. Some called it Trager village, what with its proximity to the forest. Yet most simply referred to it as the village.

Pulling back on the reins of her docile Lurka, Maypor spun the reins around a knob and shuffled off the bench. “Grab his leg, May,” Joanna told her and wedged herself behind Jace’ back. Her hands folded under his arms. Jace’s head lulled unconsciously, the fur blanket slipped off.

Maypor cracked an eye brow as Joanna stumbled at seeing Jace’ naked body. He was quite the specimen, Maypor had to agree. But the boy was all wiry and lean muscle. Her old age and achy bones, made her yearn for comfort and bulk instead of the young and lean.

Tugging the boy’s legs towards her, she jarred Joanna out of her obvious reverie. The elven mender going a deep shade of pink, as she pried her slanted blue eyes off the well-endowed manhood.

Shuffling in through the front door of Joanna’ home. They stumbled left into her bedroom. Laying Jace down gently as possibly—though Maypor simply let his legs flop to the floor—Joanna set about fiddling with her fireplace. Tenting her allotment of cut logs and trying to kindle a flame with the small amount of tinder she had.

“May. Can you- uh…” Joann cleared her throat embarrassed and waved a hand behind her back at Jace’ unconscious form.

“Cover him up?” Maypor supplied and couldn’t help but chuckle dryly at her old friends’ back. “Sure.”

A few minutes later, with Jace now concealed in a wrap of several fur blankets in front of kindling fire. Maypor sat down in the opposite room, at a table. The Mender brewing them a herbal spiced tea.

“So, why did you bring him to me?” Joanna asked her, as she set two cups down in front of them on the table.

“Because he need’s help,” Maypor shrugged her shoulders, pointedly ignoring her friends glare.

“May, I still have people to see to back at my shop. If you’re come here to simply take advantage of my kindness. I’ll throw both you, and him, out. I have better things to do than play your games of avoidance.”

Maypor sipped her tea, hissing at the heat of it. Then explained everything she had observed of the boy. “Do you have some way of viewing how much magic runs through him?” she asked finally as she finished her story with arriving at the village today.

“I’m not sure I have anything that’ll get a direct measurement. Everyone who isn’t a Magi has some small amount of Mana inside them,” Joann explained and sipped her tea. “Most of the time, it is used unconsciously. During menial tasks, or through breathing. We exhale and inhale Mana at an almost unconscious rate. Everyone does. So to get an exact reading, would be … difficult.”

“Well…” Maypor paused considering. “What if I had proof that he was someone special.”

Joanna frowned at that. And Maypor fought hard to remain relaxed. She’d found the magi brush case, wrapped inside of Jace’ tunic when she had stripped him off after finding him.

“Then show me,” Joanna replied eventually. Unfastening her thick furred jacket, Maypor grabbed one of two wrapped items she kept concealed within. The second was the journal she had found on Jace. Taking the simple cloth wrapped case, she placed it on the table. It chink metallically as it hit the hard wood.

“Open it,” Maypor told the mender and finished off her tea. “And if, after seeing what’s inside you want to know more. I’ll show you the second piece of proof. Just know,” she warned as Joanna reached out to unwind the cloth on the case. “These belong to Jace.” Maypor tilted her head in the direction of the other room.

~*~*~*~

Joanna nodded hesitantly; this was the first time she had seen her old friend act so… so… what? Conspiring? suspicious? mysterious? secretive? She didn’t know the right word. Yet the seriousness in her friends’ steelier than usual expression, set Joanna’ mind curious.

She had fled Barrendel duchy to escape conspiracy, and schemes, and politicking. All she ever wanted to do, was open a shop and help people. Oh she did it partially for money. She couldn’t buy food with a kind smile and the promise of mending their broken bones, and that was if they ever broke them.

Unwrapping the cloth, Joanna frowned at the sleek golden case. The second her finger touch its cool surface, a latticework of runes spiralled across its geography in a blaze of iridescent blue.

Then a spike of numbness shot through her fingers, and down her hand, dulling the nerves of her hand.

From fingers to wrist it all went limp.

“What in Shre’s light, May?” Joanna gasped in a panic as she quickly snapped her hand back.

“Huh,” Maypor pondered, “it never did that to me. Look,” Maypor reached out and set her finger against case’s surface. Even with the webbing of protective runes, nothing attacked Maypor’ hand.

“Well, shit,” Joanna cursed. The feeling in her hand quickly returning. “Can you open it?”

“Of course,” Maypor smiled and did just that.

“What? Nooo. No. No. No,” Joanna whispered rubbing at her face with her hands, the left only felt tingly now. What she saw inside the case. Or should she say. The High Magus brush case. Was a selection of different rune brushes, the smaller ones generally used for finer runic work.

Then two rows of elemental essence paint. Some even rare. Joanna was writing her rune work on the last dusting of her own essence paint. That had lasted her a few years. Elemental essence paint wasn’t cheap. And several times Joanna had to work through the black market in Oedrin, to simply get a table spoon of essence paint since moving out into the wilds.

What this human had in his possession. Could only mean one of two things: Either he was a High Magus, himself. Or he’d stolen it. Then there was the protective latticework of runes on the case, warding against anyone with a sufficient amount of Mana within them. Meaning, another Magi who didn’t have ownership of it, couldn’t touch it.

But someone of considerably less Mana—like Maypor—could in fact steal it.

Then Joanna recalled her friend asking her to take a measurement of the Mana within this Jace.

She didn’t dare touch anything inside the case. But she did notice a rather large brush. It looked as if it was a two twisted branches, entwining. Small cords of steels ran through them like silvery veins. This brush she had seen only once some twenty years ago. It was an Opus brush. She had seen High magus Yasgaes, paint runes in the air with it.

Where a Magi usual brush required a surface. The Opus brushes—there were twelve that she knew of—could paint on anything. All the wielder needed—as far as she knew—was an enormous surplus of Mana, and a great amount of control over magic.

After staring at the contents of the case for what like ten minutes, her mind wandering. She finally looked at Maypor. Her old friend smiled knowingly. “Do you want to see the second item?” Maypor asked her and Joanna winced internally. She really couldn’t at all help her curiosity.

~*~*~*~

It was several hours later, and approaching mid-morning before Jace woke once again. His head heavy and woozy, his vision swaying as he took deep ragged breaths.

“Slow down,” said a harmoniously husky voice from his left. Blinking twice Jace looked over and saw his third vision of otherworldly beauty since tumbling out of Parkers Hold. It was a sun-kissed elven woman. Her silken blonde in a thick braid spilled over her shoulder. Her slanted eyes couldn’t hide the expressive blue of her irises. Her high cheek bones were a faint red tinge. Her jaw and chin were angular and sharp. Her nose welled proportion to her face, and her small thin mouth smiled at Jace.

Surprisingly to Jace. It was her small sharp teeth that shook him back to reality.

Slowly rising, Jace looked around himself. He was bare to world ass naked and sweating profusely, yet he wasn’t shivering at least.

“Here, drink this,” the elven woman said and passed Jace a small mug. With a trembling hand he accepted the cup, smelled the steaming scent of spiced herbs and he could describe as mud.

He gulped down the thick gritty slime inside the cup, almost gagging as he did so. He tried to pull it away, but the elven woman gripped his head and forced the mugs content down his throat. “You have to drink this. Drink it and get better, Jace,” the woman murmured to him.

Jace’s mind pitched inside himself. Inverting and swallowing in a sucking, popping, whump.

He stood on a black scarred plane. Thin wisps of smoke or cloud he couldn’t tell, drifted high and low across the plane. “Jace.” His name pitched across the scape, echoing oddly. “Can- can you hear me?”

The words came from afar, starting out as distant whisper’s and growing with clarity the closer they reached him. “Yes.” Jace replied, and tilted his head. Had he thought the word or said it allow. He didn’t know.

This place. This shadow scape was a world unto itself.

“Stay where you are, and do not wander,” the voice warned him. “There’re things in the unconscious minds eye that shouldn’t be faced until you’re ready. Shall we begin?” the voice asked him, like he knew exactly what was happening to him right now.

“Begin what?” Jace asked the voice. He looked down at the ground beneath and gulped as he saw unformed shapes floating beneath. The ground seemingly a window into the beyond.

“Why, your training of course,” the voice laughed melodiously. Yet, Jace detected a sort of sinister pleasure in its tone.

“Training for what? and how did I get here?” he felt like he was running around in circles. Something in his mind telling, no screaming at him to never look up. Looking down was bad enough, but the warning bell screamed every time he lifted his eyes anywhere above looking straight ahead.

“Your friend, Maypor. She brought you to me. You were quite ill,” the voice explained to him. “We found the journal and brushes.”

“Brushes?” Jace murmured in a daze. What brushes?

“Maypor explained to me how you could sense the Dwellers before they sent their minions to attack her estate,” the voice continued, ignoring Jace’ question.

“They came for me,” Jace sighed. He was reluctant to shared that. Yet, if this person was helping him. They had to know what they were getting themselves into. He wished he’d been more open with Douglas, and Athena. The thought of her summoned an image of the stunning fox-kin, holding her daughter. Jace had grown fond of them both in the short hours they’d spent.

He just wished… wish them the best. As bright a future as they can have. He just wouldn’t be involved. If anything, Jace should’ve never helped fend off the wretches that attacked them. Because now he suffered for it.

“The Dwellers,” Jace explained, “they want me.” He shuffled his feet nervously, his eyes roaming back and forth across the shadowy plane.

“And what could they possibly want from you?” the voice asked him dubiously.

Jace thought hard. Trying to find a way to explain the feeling he’d constantly felt inside Parkers Hold. Always running. Always trying and fighting to stay ahead, to escape. He hadn’t known what had been escaping, until he’d watched the tentacles exploded out the head of the young petite woman with the head wound.

If his suspicions were correct, and from what he had read in that journal and what Douglas had told him. Jace suspected that all of those who had waken up inside that small room, were indeed summoned people.

That he was a summoned person. Though an anomaly, according to the Dwellers.

How to explain that? How to explain something you didn’t fully understand yourself. Like why was the colour red, called red? Or why did turtles wear bandana’s to hide identity? They were damn turtles after all.

Jace shook his mind free from delving further.

“They wanted me…” he started, “because? because- I could…” then it clicked. “Because they wanted me to join them.”

“J-join them?” the voice asked curiously, yet Jace detected a quaver. Like it didn’t want to truly know, yet couldn’t help but dive deeper.

“We… we were summoned there. All of us. All Fifty-Two of us. Inside Parkers Hold. It was already overrun. I think I’m only one that escaped, though others might’ve. It’s just that they wanted me especially. I was the odd one number, or maybe it’s the even number ... maybe-”

“Ugh,” the voice sighed interrupting Jace, “he’s rambling.”

“Look,” Jace started, his patience growing thin. Staring up at the sky, despite the pulsing fear visibly rippling through his very soul.

He froze.

Up.

Way up and above him, was a spherical object as big as a moon. It was black, though the sky was a murky grey and filled with thick banks of fog, its size made it obvious.

The longer he stared up at it, the more it clarified in his mind. Became clearer. Something deep inside him lurched and made his head throb painfully. A surge of familiarity filled Jace.

It was familiar to him, and yet terrible and horrific.

Then the spherical object in the cloudy grey sky, unwound itself. A voice called to him. Screaming for Jace to look away from it. Yet he couldn’t. That surge inside him, called to something else. It called to his defiance.

Even as its presence singled him out and focused its godly mind down on him and crushed him.

Jace screamed.

You are back. How curious. It seemed to ponder. The grey sky roared with thunder and crackled purple lightning

Jace’ mind pitched him, even as he writhed in pain. Unpeeling his reality, and with a whooshing pop. Jace was cut free of that shadowy plane.

This novel is the work of Rhys Thomas. If you are reading this and it has not been published by Rhys Thomas, then this work has been stolen. Please report this to Amazon and me at email: [email protected]