Recruiting

 

Losing his Soldano blade is what really upset Domingo. Yes, he was about to die, and although Cardinal Verdugo promised him the fires of Legion awaited him for his sins, there was no doubt in the heart of Domingo Garcia that he instead walked into Theus' embrace. Since his ordination two years ago, Domingo had walked the lands of his beloved Castille, preaching the Truth of Theus, and His Prophets. Already a national hero for his part in the deeds of the Seven Swords, his following quickly grew, and his word quickly spread. And while the new Padre knew his words of Humanity's basic worthiness in the eyes of Theus would not sit well with the Vaticine Church, he was firmly based in the Vigils of the Prophets, and he did not fear censure for those words. It was instead his teachings on the Third Prophet that had condemned him to the stake, as he knew they might.  Teaching the people that they already had all that they needed to understand Creation did challenge Church authority, but Third the foundation wasanthere in scripture, andthis could forgiven. Teaching that the man celebrated as the Prophet was impostor, however, wasbe unforgivable. Domingo had known it was only a matter of time. He was not so foolish as to share news of the  True Third Prophet with everyone; everyone; only his most trusted students would hear hear of it. Still, he knew that eventually rumour would reach the Inquisition, who looked upon the Third Prophet as their founder, and they would come for him. And he was ready for them.  There was a secret side of Padre Domingo Garcia de Soldano del Castille, a side his flock knew nothing of, a side well versed in subtlety, stealth, and ambush. The Knight-Inquisitors Knight-Inquisitor s thought to take him unawares in the night. Instead they found that Domingo, like Alvara Arcineaga before him, was more than capable of defending himself. He could have run, of course. Once he knew the Inquisition was onto him, he could have have fled to Avalon, or Vendel, even even parts of Eisen would have been outside outside the Inquisition's reach. But his people were in Castille, and he was a man of True Courage. He would not be chased from his home, even if it cost him his life. And so they had caught him in a trap where to resist would have endangered the innocent, and Padre Domingo Garcia was arrested as an accused heretic. So famous was Domingo Garcia that the chief Inquisitor himself came to oversee the hearing.  The trial was brief, essentially composing of the question "Do you deny the charges of heresy against you?" and Domingo's answer answer "I do not deny the Truth I have spoken." And so he was found guilty, and sentenced to cleansing by fire. the noon-day sunHe found to a wooden stake in theHis market ignition ofAnd hisso execution flames. had Domingo no hopes tied of rescue by the Rilasciare. was aplaza, cell ofawaiting politicalthe activists, true mischief-makers; to defy the Inquisition was beyond them, especially with Cardinal Verdugo overseeing things. No, Domingo was resigned to his fate. He bid a silent farewell to his former comradesin-arms, the Seven Swords; to Remy, Karlen, Dalla, Nicole, even Guiseppe. He had sworn a Vow to always be there to help them find their way on the path of Theus. He hoped they would understand. As the sun beat down, Cardinal Verdugo looked down over the crowd from a balcony opposite Domingo. "Padre Domingo Garcia," the Cardinal called down. "You have one last opportunity to return to  Theus. Do you recant your heresy against Theus, His Prophets, and His Church?" Vero Coraggio, Domingo thought to himself before answering. "My answer has not changed, Lord Cardinal," Domingo answered clearly, respectfully. "I have spoken only Truth. You ask me to ignore the voice of Theus within me, and this I cannot do." "Padre Garcia," Verdugo commented sadly. "You are dangerously misguided. May Theus have mercy upon your soul," and he signalled for the fires to be lit. Domingo began to recite the Credo of the Church, intent on keeping his eyes open, meeting his fate face to face. His eyes, like those of most others, were upon the Inquisitor approaching him with the lit brand, but his attention was quickly diverted when the cry came from within the crowd: "El Vago! El Vago has come!" All eyes looked past Domingo, and the he heard thudflashed of booted feet upon thethat platform behind him. Then, quicker than any snake, end ofthe a whip past hislanding head, cracked flame that heralded his death out of existence. "I hope you are not set on meeting Theus today, Padre," said a muffled voice just behind Domingo's ear. There was something in the voice, something Domingo had heard before, but he had no time for such considerations. An instant later, his hands were free, and he turned to see the white and purple porcelain face of the Vagabond. As Verdugo shouted for reinforcements, El Vago kicked the Inquisitor into the crowd and unslung two spare rapiers from his back, handing them to the freed priest. "I hope you do not mind, but I took the liberty."  To Domingo's astonishment, one of the swords just handed to him was his family's Soldano blade! "I would ask how you knew, but I doubt we have the time." Indeed, even as Domingo spoke, the platform was being surrounded by Knight-Inquisitors, sixteen men in all. Domingo unsheathed the twin blades. "You take the ones on the right, and I take the ones on the left?" Domingo could feel the Vagabond smiling behind his mask as he spoke. The words brought Domingo back to a bar in Avalon, those selfsame words spoken by his friend Remy. But surely, Remy was in Montaigne, and besides he could not be El Vago ... no, could not be. But then it was timeparrying to think and of swords, and the whirling he used when engaging groups of foes, riposting inDomingo a circlingspun flashinto of blades. Then,flourish as Domingo was clearing the last

 

of the Inquisitors from his path, he heard a crack like a peal of thunder, and the men facing El Vago fell to the ground, stunned and lashed by the Vagabond's whip. "This way!" cried the masked Vagabond, and led Domingo up a waiting rope ladder, which they cut down behind them, and out of the plaza. They raced through the street, Domingo Domingo a step behind the brightly clad shape of El Vago. The Vagabond suddenly ducked through a doorway, and slipped through a trap door that Domingo might not have noticed on his own. Once safely hidden, they waited for the sounds of pursuit to die away, barely breathing in the gloom. Finally, Domingo spoke. "Where I come from, El Vago does not pick up mewling cats who are handing out pamphlets, and that's the way things are." Domingo spoke in the code he had developed to speak discreetly with his friends, expressing surprise at being rescued by a masked man due to his revolutionary ideas. "Padre Garcia, where swordsare," do not lie idle when they secure the doubt bondsin of  Montague's wedd wedding, ing, and THATI come is the from, way things El Vago answered answered. . If can there was any Domingo's mind as to the identity of the man behind the mask, it was now gone. The thundercrack whip strike was a very rare technique, invented by Remy, and the Vagabond's coded reply that a trusted friend will not stand by when he can help someone escape from such an unwanted assassination could mean only one thing. "We have been in mischief before, El Vago," Domingo continued in code, speaking of shared secrets. "I am glad you are no Ussuran." "I am always your friend," El Vago replied, his Castillian now accented with Remy's Montaigne. "And I fear sharing no secret with you. Now, you be more careful, eh? El Vago will not always be there to save you, and how can you keep your Vow to us if you do not look after yourself?" "If you boys are finished your moment," came a familiar voice from beyond the trapdoor above them. "I need to speak with Domingo." Priest and Vagabond looked at each other, and then up, saying together: "DALLA?!" Indeed, when they had climbed back up into the room above, there stood waiting, as though she belonged there, Dalla Björnfindel, one of the Seven Swords, and Skjæren of the Vestenmannavnjar Vestenmannavnjar.. "Dalla?!" exclaimed Domingo. "What are you-- how did you--?" "Oh, hush Domingo," she put her hands on her hips. "Is your head so full of Theus that you've forgotten Gåte?" "It seems I am In to fact, be atshe a disadvantage with everyone today," Domi seem different, Dalla." seemed older, older than she shouldDomingo be. ngo said ruefully. "You- you "The powers of the Runes Runes are a heavy burden, my friend. Think nothing of it. In fact, it is on their business that I seek you." "What do the Runes want with Domingo," Remy asked from behind his El Vago mask. "Through the power of Gåte, I have seen many things and many places. You are needed, Domingo; your swords are needed." "Where am I to go?" Dalla reached forward and began to trace a shape on Domingo's forehead, the power crackling through him immediately. "Go with the blessing of Him Who Watches Us All, Domingo." And his world turned white. When the strange silvery glow had swallowed Domingo and winked out, Remy peeked out of the window. "Well, I should not overstay my welcome. I imagine you'll be seeing yourself out, Dalla." He slipped off the mask, and began removing El Vago's distinctive purple costume. "I know you wish you could have gone with him," Dalla said, more or less ignoring his words. "But even my powers have their limits." Remy was silent a moment, pausing in his transformation from Vagabond to simple swordsman. "Where did you send him?" "To be honest, I am not certain. I am only only a conduit in this. But I trust the Runes, and Grumfather. And trust Domingo." Dom ingo." "As do I,"IRemy replied, stuffing his mask and costume into a sack that he slung over his shoulder. "It was good to see you again, Dalla. Perhaps we should all get together some time." And with that, he slipped away into the streets. "We will, Remy ... but perhaps not how you imagine." There was a flash of light, and she too was gone. When sight returned to Domingo Garcia, he stood before a great inn, whose board announced itself as "The Crossroads." "Where in Theah have I landed myself now?" he said to himself as he approached the inn door. As it happens, Domingo Garcia de Soldano del Castillo was no longer in Theah at all. . . . *** Annuncir sat down upon a stone, removed his left glove, and looked at his hand; more specifically at the ring on his third finger. At a glance, the ring did not appear special, just a rough loop of wood, but if  you examined it, gazed upon it, you would see the grains of the wood writhe and shift like serpents. Annuncir focused on the ring, clearing all else from his mind. He did not feel the crisp air of the Frostback Mountains, did not see the snow about him, was not aware of the mabari warhound settling down at his feet, did not hear the snow crunching under the feet of his two companions.

 

Morrigan had given him the ring, and it was a symbol of the bond between them. Annuncir smiled as he remembered the night she gave it to him. She explained that her mother had given her the ring, allowing Flemeth to find Morrigan wherever she might be, but she had reworked the enchantment. Morrigan then stumblingly stumblingly insisted that she did not wish to hunt him, simply that it would prove useful should he be captured. Annuncir had not pressed the point, content to enjoy the love growing between them even as Morrigan repeatedly dismissed love as a foolishness. Annuncir cared not what words were used to describe their feelings, so long as they shared them. When Morrigan came to him on the eve of the final battle and told him of the ritual she wished to perform, Annuncir had felt a storm within him as powerful as any his magic had called down upon their enemies. Riordan's explanation only awhen GreyAnnuncir Warden can an archdemon, and the priceMorrigan that they pay in doing so, was still rollingof inwhy his mind had kill returned to his quarters to find waiting for him. This came as no surprise, as she had shared his bed in Arl Eamon's estate, but there was something different different in how she stood, so stiff and formal, and in her reluctance reluctance to meet his eyes. And then she told him her plan. Annuncir had never considered siring a child. He was a mage after all, and while marriage and children were not prohibited by Circle law, they were discouraged. Annuncir wondered how much of that was the Chantry's doing, an effort to avoid children with an increased chance of carrying the talent for magic. Nevertheless Nevertheless,, he agreed to Morrigan's plan, knowing full well that she would conceive that night. He loved her, after all. It didn't matter to him that their child would not continue continue his elf blood, as all mixed children favor their human parent. Morrigan was the first mage Annuncir had met who was trained outside the Circle, and he had been enchanted by her unashamed passion for magic. The fact that she also rejected and disdained those who bargained with demons served to throw serious doubt onto the Chantry's treatment of Apostates. A sudden pulse of emotion broke through Annuncir's memories. It was longing, and Annuncir was certain it had come from the ring. He had wondered, if he focused his mind upon the ring and upon Morrigan, if its magic might go both ways. Annuncir had hoped the ring might give some insight as to her location, but still he cherished the brief moment of contact. Morrigan had told him that she had to leave, and that she did not wish to be found, but she finally admitted hertolove, and Annuncir refused to let her disappear with their child. The ring's transmission served only strengthen that resolve. "Oh, that is an interesting look, my friend," said a smooth Antivan voice. "Have I missed something important?" Annuncir looked up to find that Zevran had just come back down the trail that he and the Dalish tracker who'd volunteered to help them had been investigatin investigating. g. "I felt her, Zev. She misses me." He reached down and idly scratched the hound behind the ear. "Ah well, unfortunately we are missing her, too. If you wanted us to find you a mountain hare or two, I'm sure we could do more. She's covered her tracks well." Mordoom barked excitedly at the prospect of a hare. Annuncir shrugged. "She's a shapeshifter, Zevran. She could have left the prints." "Oh! I had not even considered that!" The Antivan elf hung his head, and shook it. "I hate to say it, my friend, but we are not going to find her." "No," Annuncir sighed. "There never was any real hope of following her trail. My real hope was in the ring." "Well, you said you felt something, yes? Perhaps there is hope in that." "Perhaps. There's a bit of a clearing here, let's set up camp." As he chewed on a simple supper, Annuncir found himself wondering if perhaps Wynne had been right, in a way. The senior enchanter had cautioned him against persuing his relationship with Morrigan, citing the likelihood of separation, distraction from Annuncir's as a Grey Warden. time Wynne had eventually changed her mind, and and yet here he was, seperated fromduties Morrigan, and spending searching for her when he knew the darkspawn threat was not over. The archdemon was dead, its generals were dead, and Fereldon was united, but there was still work to do. There was evidence that some of the more potent darkspawn had survived, and were starting to cause trouble again. Yet Annuncir found that his heart was no longer in the fight. ... perhaps you are in need of a new fight ...

In a blink, Annuncir was on his feet, and the Staff of the Magister Lords was in his hand, magical lightning crackling along its length. The voice had come from the shadows beside him, and its ethereal quality reminded the mage of the demons and spirits he'd encountere encountered. d. "If you have something to say to me, spirit, then say it," Annuncir announced, noting that Zevran and the scout had vanished into positions of stealth. ... indeed ... my master seeks allies ... your heart grows weary ... you know that you will not find  what you seek ... perhaps you can find meaning in my master's quest ...

"And who is this master of whom you speak?" Annuncir spoke the challenge boldly, confident of a truthful answer. Spirits, as a rule, do not lie: it would compromise any bargains made. ... a master of magic arts ... i am not permitted to speak his name ...

"And what is his quest?" ... a search ... for a place long lost ... and the knowledge within it ...

"Is he a mage of the Circle?"

... he is not of this place ... his magics have seen you from afar ... very far ...

 

"Is he Tevinter?" The name of the Imperium dripped with venom from Annuncir's lips. ... farther ...

"Did he then send you with some means of transporting me to him, should I agree?" ... indeed ...

"And should I refuse?" ... i shall depart ... and you shall likely ... hear nothing of him ... again ...

Annuncir paused. The offer was intriguing. His travels had taken him to many places and taught him many things, uncovered many arcane secrets. But there was so much more to learn. Who knew how many traditions and techniques might have been lost, or might have been developed in far away lands? "If I agree to go with you, and speak with your master, am I committed?"  There was no answer at first. ... my master would not ask you ... to blindly agree ... without meeting him ... "Are you actually considering this?" Zevran asked as he stepped from the shadows. "Yes, Zev, I am. The spirit is right. Perhaps I do do need something something new. new. I am tired of of the darkspawn, Zevran. Maybe that's really why I'm here. I knew we couldn't track Morrigan, and if I really believed that I could find her through the ring, I could study it on my own, or at the tower. I think I really came here because I'm trying to escape." "Well, I certainly understand the need to escape, my friend," Zevran spoke with sympathy, if also with regret. "I do not suppose that I could could come with you." you." ... no ... my master's offer is for the elf mage ...

"No," Zevran continued. "I thought not. Well, try not to have too much fun without without me. Perhaps I will travel ... I think I heard Isabella was seen in Orlais." Annuncir smiled. "Farewell, my friend. I will will see you again." "Oh, of that I have no doubt. If neither I, nor an archdemon could kill you, I doubt anything can." Annuncir crossed crossed his arms in an "x" over chest, and bowed to Zevran, who returned the gesture. Annuncir then turned to the shadow again. "I am ready, spirit. Work your magic." A vaguely human-shaped shadowy form detached itself from the darkness at the edge of the fire and touched Annuncir, and then quickly enveloped him. His world became darkness, empty and formless. He could not say how much time had passed but, when it was over and the darkness receeded, he found himself looking a castle of black stone. A full itself. moon was high in the warm night sky. The shadowy spirit was eitherupon no longer there, or had concealed Annuncir drew in a deep breath, and knocked on the wooden double doors with his staff. The door opened inward, creeking, and Annuncir found himself looking at a girl the likes of whom he had never seen. She looked to be about twleve years old, old, but she also had a decidedly feline cast to her features, features, and Annuncir was not willing to trust his approximation of her age. Her ears were triangular, like a cat's, though they sat where one would expect a person's ears to be, poking out amidst shoulder-length white hair. Her features were pointed, though not unpleasantly so, She wore a sleeveless dress, and the outsides of her arms were coated with a light grey fur. "Good evening," she greeted him in a kind voice. "Welcome to Selinthaoist .  You are expected. Please come in."  The feline girl led Annuncir down an entry hall lined with fine tapestries -- some of which had a decidedly elven style to them -- and through a door into a cozy sitting room. "If you'll have a seat here, The Magus will be with you shortly." The girl bowed politely, then turned and left. As Annuncir took a seat, leaning his staff against a wall, he pondered the use of the word "magus." Those who wielded magic were refered to as "magi," an old term from the Tevinter Imperium, but the singular was always the more modern "mage." It made Annuncir more curious about the land he had come to. A moment later, however, host arrived. the room strode aAnnuncir man clad in robes thesuch darkest black imaginable, robes thathis seemed to clingInto to nearby shadows. had never of seen obviously magical garments before. The man's hood was pulled back, and Annuncir was surprised to see elf traits in his face. His hair was long and pale, with tinges of blue, something Annuncir had never seen before. "Welcome to my home," the man's voice was rich, and power seemed to fill it. "I am glad that you have accepted my invitation invitation." ." Annuncir stood and bowed to his host. "I am Annuncir, mage and Grey Warden, though I expect that is known to you already." "That you were a mage, mage, yes. I confess to not knowing knowing what a Grey Grey Warden is. The magic that I used to seek you out identified you by your skills. Once that occurred, I looked into your recent life, and saw you crusading against creatures tainted by darkness. It did not, however, teach me culture or context. You have introduced yourself, however, and I shall do likewise. I am The Magus." "That is a title, not a name," Annuncir replied. "True enough. However, it is all I can give you for now. If you do not know my name, you cannot repeat it to those who should not hear it. Perhaps you understand the need for such precautions," The Magus gestured for Annuncir to sit. "Indeed I do," Annuncir conceeded as he resumed his seat. "Then will you tell me of this quest of  yours?" "I shall. First I should tell you where where you are. You no doubt suspect suspect that you have left your your country. It is so. However, more than that, you have left your world."

 

"My world? But this is not not the Fade." "The Fade? I am not familiar with this term." "Ah, it is the world of dreams and spirits," Annuncir explained. explained. "Hm, no. I suppose you might say you are beyond the Fade. Selinthaoist  is a realm between all other realms, a kind of nexus point of realities." "Under other circumstances, circumstanc es, I would consider any man who made such a claim mad. But I have seen a hint of your power through the spirit you have bound, and never before have I seen a person like the girl who answered your door. Even so, I find I have doubts." "I cannot fault you for that," The Magus acknowledged. "But I will continue. There used to be a great city, a nexus point that would make Selinthaoist  small and insignificant. I have made it a goal of  mine powerful to find and reclaim Were this city. I have duties that occupy me. Besides which, men have enemies. I to However, be personally involved, it would be noticed. I would like powerful to avoid that." "You said your spell identified my skills. Was it just my magic, or something in specific?" "In specific I sought a healer. Yours was the strongest healing power I could find in a world relatively close. You are also the first I have contacted. I would ask no one to undertake the hunt I propose alone. I am also seeking warriors of differing skills." Annuncir nodded, "I have had some experience in teambuilding. A varied compliment of skills is vital."  The Magus took a deep breath. "And now we have reached the moment of decision. I can tell you no more without a commitment." Annuncir nodded, and thought to himself a moment. His fingers went to Morrigan's ring, and twisted it on his finger. "In my crusade against the darkspawn, I found that I often had to trust my intuition to guide me through difficult choices, and I have come to trust it. I do not know why, but I trust you. Yes, I will help you." "Wonderful! I hope you forgive me, but I dislike repeating myself. With your consent, I will have Amarillis show you to a guest room, and we will speak more of the quest once the expedition is assembled." With this, The Magus Magus stood. "How long do you expect it to be?" "That depends on how many of my first choices accept, but I do not expect it to be long." "VeryMagus well. nodded. For me this is the end long day, in any case.you I would welcome rest."night." He  The "Amarillis willof bea along shortly to show to your room. a Good took his leave. Annuncir sat and thought as he waited, and wished Morrigan was there, or Zevran, or Shale. He had not felt this alone since the massacre at Ostigar. "Excuse me, Annuncir?" Amarillis was leaning in the doorway. "This way, please." Annuncir rose, and followed. Alone or not, his course was set. *** Approximately one month after the death of Thain Dukragiirn, Gurrk Arrak Gutshaker found himself knocking on the door to the rooms of the trapspringer Diessa. "Gurrk!" the dwarven rogue exclaimed when she opened the door. "What is it?" "Hi, uh ... I'm, uh, not disturbing you, am I?" the battlerager's battlerager's gravelly voice warbled warbled with concern. His spiked breastplate clinked as he shifted awkwardly, the movement releasing a waft of  unwashed-dwarf-and-blood smell. Diessa grimaced grimaced at the smell, but was thankful Gurrk didn't seem to notice. notice. She had noticed that his feelings were sometimes sometimes surprisingly surprisingly easy to bruise. "No, no, it's just that you've never visited my rooms before." "I, uh, II guess right.what's Can Igoing comeon?" looked up and down warrior the stone halls. "Sure, guess you're so. Gurrk, oin?" n?" Gurrk Diessanervously had never seen the armored nervous before, and she couldn't imagine what had unnerved him. Gurrk passed through the door, and stood in the center of Diessa's sparsely decorated sitting area. Diessa took a seat on a stool, but Gurrk paced about the room. "So, uh, Diessa, I have a question for you," Gurrk began, not looking at her. "... Yes?" "Well, I mean you're a dwarf woman, right? See, I need a wife to start my own House, and we could all die at any time, so I figured--" "What?! Gurrk, I am NOT marrying you!" "What?" the battlerager stopped pacing and looked, blinking, at Diessa. "I don't wanna marry  YOU. I mean, no offense, Diessa, but you're not exactly wife material." "And just what is that supposed to mean?" the trapspringer demanded. "Aw, crap, this isn't going going right at all," Gurrk Gurrk sighed. "Let me start over. I need advice about about courting a woman, a dwarf woman." "I think you should start from the beginning. Sit down, take a few breaths, and calm down. Where is this all coming from?" Gurrk sat, as she'd suggested, and tried to sort out his thoughts-- a task which had never been easy for him outside outside of battle. "I guess it mostly starts with with Thain's death. But maybe it starts when when my father died." "I've never heard you talk about your father, except that he named you by belching."

 

"Yeah," Gurrk sighed whistfully. "What a guy. Sometimes I wish I had more of him than the mug I carved from his skull." "So what does he have to do with this?" Diessa asked, ignoring the reference to Gurrk's favorite drinking vessel. "Well I guess you wouldn't know why my father died," Gurrk's eyes grew brighter as his mind organized. "The how is pretty obvious; he died in battle, like any Gutshaker should. And that's the thing-we're really good at dying. I mean we're good at killing, too, but we're the chosen children of Clanggedin, right? So we throw ourselves into battle, throw our lives away in battle, 'cause death has no fear for us. We know we'll be welcomed into Clanggedin's arms, and we'll fight by his side for eternity. So, uh, we don't usually have long careers, careers, if ya understand. And that's the problem." "It would a problem," nodded. nodded. "I may have upthe in exile, but my family still taught me the way of the be Delvers. If youDiessa don't survive long enough togrown educate next generation--" "The Gutshakers aren't Delvers, not originally. My family's only been here for two generations. We came here 'cause there wasn't anything worthy of our rage back wherever we came from. But then my clan heard about the Shit-Dragon, and they moved here." "How many of your people moved here?" Diessa asked. "I haven't heard of any others, besides you." "My grandfather, grandfather, his three brothers, brothers, their wives wives and kids. I dunno how many exactly. exactly. My dad was never big on history. You've never heard of any others 'cause they're all dead. They charged in, like all good battleragers should, and they didn't come back out again." "But then, how did there get to be a you?" "Because we scared the Delvers," Delvers," Gurrk grinned, grinned, but it was not entirely kind. "So before they let us fight, we had to join the clan. We swore on Morradin's Forge that if we died before ensuring the next generation could fight, we'd suffer a year of defeat in the afterlife for ever day the fight couldn't go on here." "And I thought the regular Delver oath was harsh," Diessa said mostly to herself. "Even with that, they got impatient. Like Thain, most refused to wait until they had children of  their own to go into the mountain. My dad waited, but he died while I was still an apprentice. apprentice. Right now, he's being swarmed and cut down by goblins, orcs, kobolds, and Gods-know-whatGods-know-what-else. else. He can't win 'cause died before I could fight. He'll keep dying for more than four hundred years. Unless the ShitDragonhe dies." "Is that why you're so focused on destroyed Goradrend?" like Gurrk, Diessa didn't share the other Delver's fear of uttering the dragon's name, but she hadn't developed a taste for the title Gurrk gave him instead. "S'part of it. The other part is that THERE'S A HELL-DAMNED SHIT-DRAGON LIVING IN OUR MOUNTAIN! That's what gets me about Farlin, and Thain, and all the others. Maybe it's 'cause they grew up here, maybe it's 'cause they don't have Clanggedin's Clanggedin's anger, I dunno, but so many of the Delvers think so damned much that I swear they forget to feel," Gurrk was on his feet again, the fires of rage burning behind his eyes, every muscle in his body tense. "It's like they wake up in the morning and they say 'Well, maybe we should do something about that dragon -- if it's not too dangerous.' Do you know what I think when I get up in the morning? 'Ah, what a lovely -- OH FUCK, THERE'S STILL A DAMNED SHIT-DRAGON SHIT-DRAGON LIVING IN OUR MOUNTAIN!!'" "Gurrk!" Diessa barked. barked. "Control yourself!" yourself!" Instantly, the blazing fire in Gurrks eyes dimmed into the smolder that was their norm. "... Are you finished?" Diessa asked, her arms crossed, her face not amused. "Yeah. Yeah," Gurrk was breathing deeply, relaxing himself and sitting down again. "Sorry. I got carried away." "I noticed. You don't have to shout at me, Gurrk. I came here BECAUSE I know Goradrend needs to die." "Yeah. Sorry. But then you you know, eh? The other Delvers, it's it's like they've they've given up up sometimes. sometimes.  That's why I refused to be named Eldest of Vengeance." Diessa shook shook her head. "But Gurrk, that's why you you SHOULD be Eldest. You have that passion, passion, and a lot more experience in the mountian than I do." "No, see? I realized it can't work that way. We battleragers can't be a normal part of the House of Vengeance, or we might end up being leaders, and that doesn't work. And we sure can't be part of the House of Memory. So we need to do something else. I'm going to found the House of Fury." "The House of Fury?" "Yeah. The House of Memory keeps the lore of the old ways, the House of Vengeace leads the quest to retake what we've lost, and the House of Fury will make damn sure we never forget to hate those who've wronged us. Farlin's already agreed to it." "S-she has?" Diessa was shocked that the Eldest of Memory would have agreed to this. "Yeah!" Gurrk was grinning. "Trick is, she says that only a full adult can found their own house.  That means I need to get married." "And to live long enough to father a child," Diessa nodded. Gurrk nodded nodded as well. "I've been careful. careful. I've listened to Thain, Thain, I've reeled in my rage, rage, I've studied tactics. I've done things no no Gutshaker has ever done. But that bodak, it taught me the most important lesson. We weren't doing anything reckless. We'd opened more than a hundred doors, same formula, no extra extra risks. But when that undead undead thing's gaze fell fell on Thain, that was it. One instant ended ended his life, one instant no different from any other. There was no reason Thain died that day. Just as easily,

 

coulda been Lanni. Coulda been me. That bodak taught me that all our plans and caution ain't worth a thing. Each moment could could be the last for any of us." us." "And you've found a woman you want to spend those moments with?" Diessa couldn't help but smile. "Well, not ALL of 'em. I mean, she's not gonna gonna come with us into battle, but --" Gurrk was cut off  by a sudden pounding pressure in his head, like every hangover ever Gutshaker ever had was rammed into his skull. His vision blurred, his ears popped, and then everything went dark. It was a beautiful summer day in the foothills. The sun shone brightly on Gurrk and Thain as they walked the path up to the mountain. Unspoken anticipation was thick between them, exciting and anxious. Thisbeasts, was the day their apprenticeships apprenticesh ended. By the end of the day, they would have killed would kill ed their first Valgiirn and they would take the ips names of adulthood they'd chosen for themselves. Gurrk swore he could smell new beginnings in the air. This day would see a change, the end of the Shit-Dragon's domination, and the beginning of the Delver's reclaimation. Something didn't seem right to Gurrk. The longer they walked, the more the feeling grew. Gurrk began to think he wasn't seeing straight, that somehow his vision was blurred, and he had a feeling of deja vu. He was trying to shake the feeling as a pair of kobolds jumped jumped them. For a moment, the joy of battle replaced any worries he might be feeling. But when the dirty creatures lay dead, and Gurrk's and Thain's weapons were decorated with their blood, Gurrk's uneasy feeling grew stronger. He looked at Thain's smiling face, and all he could see was death. The sun, the rocks, everything around them seemed hollow. Even his victory and the death of his enemies seemed empty. Life had no soul.  Then a pain like nothing Gurrk could imagine pulsed into his head, and he dropped his axe as he gripped the sides of his head with both hands. All of his senses blurred, and then went dark. Gurrk felt like he was falling, but couldn't see or hear anything. Images and thoughts came and went, his sense of self moving with them. He was sparring with a tall warrior he somehow knew was a Klingon. He was a human barbarian seeking for the last Horadric Sage, Dekard Cain. He was a Grey Warden, preparing to venture into the Denerim Alienage seeking leverage against Loghain Mac Tir. Then there was darkness again. "... definitely coming to." Gurrk didn't recognize the voice, and it spoke the Commong Tongue with an accent like nothing he'd heard before. "Senor Porter! He is waking up!" Gurrk groaned as he came more fully awake, and started to sit up. There was a human at his side, wearing the most absurd hat Gurrk had ever seen. It had a wide brim, and there was a large feather stuck into the band. As Gurrk's vision cleared, it was clear he was in some kind of inn or tavern. He was sitting on a wooden table, his armor was intact, and he recognized the weight of his greataxe, and his maul crossed on his back. His maul? Did he own a maul? Sure he did, he comissioned it after his first run-in with skeletons ... but wait, hadn't he and Thain just set out? out? Gurrk laid his face into his mailed palms. Gurrk's mind was full of contradictions and confusion, like he wasn't even sure who he was. "Here, drink this," Gurrk was startled by the new voice: he hadn't heard anyone else approach. He lifted his head and took a better look around. He was deffinatly in the common room of an inn, and it seemed to be deserted, with the exception of the human in the odd hat, and the innkeeper. The innkeeper was standing beside the table now with a mug of something steaming in his hand. Gurrk took the offered mug, and began to gulp down the contents. The liquid was scalding hot, darkly bitter, and not at all alcoholic, but Gurrk didn't stop until it was gone. The burning heat spread through his body, and his confusion started to lift. Gurrk's sense of self partially solidified. "Wow," he breathed. "What was that stuff?" replied. "I find that drinking something helps newcomers newcomers adjust." "It's called coffee," the innkeeper replied. "Where I am?" Gurrk asked. asked. "How did did I get here? here? Who are are you?" "My name is Andrew Porter, but you can call me Andy," the innkeeper replied. "This is the Crossroads Inn. I can tell you that you were found, unconcious, on the road outside. I'm afraid I can't tell you more about how you got here." "And I," said the man with the hat, "am Domingo Garcia de Soldano del Castillo. Senor Porter has been kind enough to give me food and lodgings here in exchange for helping out and providing music for customers." "I, uh, I am ..." Gurrk paused for a moment as several answers suggested themselves, some contradicting contradictin g each other. Then, suddenly, one solid answer came to him. "I am Gurrk Arrak Gutshaker." With those words, the last of the confusion parted, and all doubt left him. "Well, Gurrk, what is the last thing you remember clearly?" Andrew asked. "I, uh ... I was talking to Diessa? Yeah! I was talking to Diessa about founding my own House. And uh, I was just talking about getting married, and then ... oh, ow, that's where it stops being clear. It's like after that I thought I was more than one person." Andrew nodded. "Tell me, had something terrible happened recently? A natural distaster? Was something destroyed? Was someone killed?" "Thain Dukragiirn. He was killed about a month ago. He was my friend, the Eldest of Vengeance, and he lead the Long March against the Shit-Dragon." "It was a meaningle meaningless ss death," Andrew remarked, no question or doubt in his voice.

 

"Yeah. It was. I --," Gurrk blinked as several things things suddenly became became clear clear to him. "Everything felt empty without him ... like it was him that held the whole thing together ... and everything I've done since ... even the talk about getting married ... has been trying to ignore it -- ignore how hollow everything feels." Andrew sighed. sighed. "I was afraid of this. this. Gurrk, I'm not sure how how to tell you this -- not not sure you can understand or believe it -- but it sounds to me like Thain was the Heart of your world and of your story." "That -- that sounds right," Gurrk didn't understand how, but there was truth in that. "Sadly, a world cannot live without a Heart, any more than a body can," Andrew said. Gurrk wanted to simply shout denial. Surely his world was more than that! Surely everything he knew, his people, its history, could not be blinked out just like that. But then, if Thain's life could end in one pointless why not world?"shouldn't this be the afterlife? This sure idn't Mount "But instant, then," Gurrk saidaslowly, Mount Silverbeard." "No, it certainly is not," Andrew agreed. agreed. "The Crossroads Inn is not part of the universe universe as you understand it. It's its own place, a nexus point, a world unto itself, and yet no world at all. I don't completely understand understand it myself, but those adrift between worlds often end up in places like this." "Then what -- what do I do? My whole life has been about destroying the Shit-Dragon, retaking Valgiirn. If they're gone ... I don't know know what to do with myself." myself." "I may be some help there," Domingo lifted a finger. "I was sent to this place by a friend of mine. She told me I would be needed, that there was something that needed to be done. I have given up believeing in coincidence. Perhaps you can find purpose in whatever this task is ... whenever it shows itself. "In the meantime, you are welcome to stay here," Andrew suggested. "You look like a strong young man. I'm sure I could find work for you to do." "Oh, I bet I can be more use to you than that," Gurrk grinned. "Have you got a still?" "No," Andrew smiled. "But I have a pile of scrap in the back. We could probbly cobble one together." "And if you've gone some spare bones, I could carve you some fine mugs." Andrew blinked. "What?" *** Liam O'Keefe sat down at the bar, ordered a bottle of "the place's best whiskey," and started to drink. As his left arm was in a sling, he drank one-handed. He did not bother to look at the label, nor did he give much notice to the cost; Liam had been well paid for his services over the past several weeks. Rather than think about his surroundings, Liam thought about his recent past. He still didn't understand what had happened in Italy. He and the others had been back in Edinburgh for almost a week, but the time hadn't really helped Liam make any sense of it all. In fact, while perhaps not the homely surroundings of Dublin, the familiarity of the bars of Edinburgh made what they had experienced seem even more surreal. "Seems like quite th' monkey monkey ye've go' there," the barkeep observed in a friendly manner. manner. "I'd be happy ta help ye git 'im off yer back." Liam looked up, and was surprised to find that half his bottle was gone. "I appreciate the offer, friend," friend," Liam said. "But I don't think you'd believe it if I told ya." "Ach, if I had a nickle for every time," the barkeep replied with a slight roll of his eyes. "I don't know why everyone thinks the're so bludy diff'rent, that their story's so unbelievable." "Alright then, I'll bite. bite. I'll give ya the truth of it. it. But don't say I didn't warn ya," ya," Liam sat up a little more, and poured himself more to drink. a month an'I'm a half ago, I accepted a contract. Bodyguard type work, ya understand. I may have run "'Bout with the IRA, but no assassin."  The barkeep nodded, but didn't comment. Liam's background was no surprise to him; there was, after all, a reason that Liam had come into this bar. With his story begun, Liam began to speak more freely: "Client turns out to be a stuffy Scotsman with more money than God; hired me to provide protection for a kind of expedition he'd put together. Ya know Galileo, the fella what discovered planets an' what-not? Seems that this Scot had run across some evidence that Galileo had some secret labs to keep his research safe while he was on the run from the church. Now, I'm no egghead, but even I know the money that could be made from finding artifacts like that, an' I think to m'self 'How hard could it be to protect a bunch o' tweed jackets while they're a-digging?", so I signs on. "So it's me, the Scot (who insisted on coming along), a linguist, a wacko who thinks Galileo met little men from Mars, an' a tight-lipped Yank that reeked of military training. So we start globetrotting. globetrotting . Now, don't get me wrong, wrong, nothing wrong wrong with any o' that. That's not where the problems problems started. The problems started started when we met the competition. competition. Oh, aye, there was was competition. Apparentl Apparently, y, ol' Max wasn't the only one t'find the lead to these labs, an' the other fellas, they weren't interested in just racing us to the discoveries. discoveries. No, apparently apparently they'd rather just be rid rid of us. Suddenly havin' havin' a former IRA sharpshooter, and a yank with some kinda special forces training, suddenly that didn't seem so much like overkill. "But that ain' the real problem, an' an' it's the real problem that makes it a hard story t'swallow. So these other fellas, they're not just rich folks, or mercenaries, no couldn't be that simple. No, they're

 

apparently the fucking Illuminati, and I'm talking full-on crazy conspiracy Illuminati, just like in that Tomb Raider movie. No, don't go looking at me like that, I did warn ya. "So ol' Max, he's not just some rich fella either, no, he's a bloody Free Mason. Mason. Now here in the isles every old, rich bugger's a Mason, so that's no shock, but it turns out he's being financed by some great bloody worldwide Mason network. Aye. So now we're all fucking Indiana Jones crawling through ruins and trying t' solve puzzles and all that adventure adventure movie shite. And as we go, we find out that we're chasin' something big. There was something Galileo found or discovered or learned right near th' end that he didn't bloody share with anyone. An' he hid it in one one super-duper-fuckin'-secret super-duper-fuckin'-s ecret lab. So we're all comin' up with our own ideas about what the big secret secret is. I swear t' God this's the truth of it, but all this ain't nothing compared to what happened when we found the last, the most secret, of these labs, the one with the Discovery-to-end-all-fuckin'-discoveries. "Oh, aye, we found it. But it weren't anything anything that anyone was expectin'. expectin'. The nut bar thought thought we'd find a wee martian martian pod. I think the linguist linguist expected t' find proof of of Atlantis. Max expected some some secret bloody wisdom, some lost lore. And I'm sure the Yank was hoping for a bloody weapon; what else do Yanks Yanks want? But was was it any any o' that? that? Nope. What was was it? It was a comet. comet. "Aye. A comet. So after we get past past the last o' the traps, and the last last o' the fuckin' Illuminati Illuminati goons, an' we get into the ultra-super-fuckin'-secret lab, the brains take a look at the instruments and they says that the equipment is set up to observe a comet that passes by once every three-hundred-and-someodd years, some number as means something special to conspiracy wackos, and it's about t' pass by. "So it does, the comet, I mean, and that's when everthing turns inside-out. This big series of  freaky lenses and tubes and mirrors and shite somehow focuses some kinda light from the comet, and it all comes flooding into the room..." Liam trailed off. "Och, ye can't fuckin' do that!" The barkeep insisted. "Ye can't stop there! What happened next?" Liam stared down into his mostly mostly empty glass, and spoke without looking looking up. "I wasn't in the lab anymore. I don't now how, but I swear I was inside a hollow iron tower. In the middle o' the tower was a huge column of flame. It was so hot that I could feel every breath bringing scorching air into me lungs. It hurt, but it was the kind of hurt that your eyes have when you suddenly step from a dim building into daylight. I noticed that the walls of the tower had names scrawled all over them, carved into the metal.  These were the names of special Deserving people. An' I wanted to be one o' them, but ... but I couldn't even bring myself t' try. people. I felt weak. weak . "That's when the demons came in. "Aye, I said demons. I don't care what ya think, but I swear to God Almighty that a swarm of  demons came in through the door at the base of the tower. But they weren't just demons, no, they had the faces of people I knew. People I'd killed, people I'd seen killed, people I'd gotten into fights with when I was drunk. An' they were all screamin' that I wasn't worthy. That made me angry, angry, more than I can describe. I started shooting with both me pistols. The demons shot back with assault rifles. I circled 'round the tower, going up this spiral walkway, and shooting 'round the column of flame. The tower sloped in as it rose, so every step up I took brought me closer t' the flames, and I started t' feel them burning away my insides. I was hit a few times, but every demon I killed made me stronger. I'd be damned if I let them beat me. When I killed the last of them, I realized I was at the top of the walkway, staring into the flame, but that fire was in me too, burning where m'heart and lungs used to be. I turned around, and there was this blank place in the wall, and there was a knife in my hand. I carved my name into that wall, an' everything went dark. "When I came to, I was on some scafolding near the ceiling o' the lab. I looked down, and there were eight or so o' the Illuminati goons sprawled dead on the floor, or on the scafolding. Max, an' the brains, and the Yank, they was all wakin' up too. They'd all seen something, like I did, but different, each one unique. But more than that, we all felt changed. Like some eye had opened that we never knew we had. feltit.this ... this new strength, new powe power, r, inside us. that And we we take started talkin' talkin' what we shouldWe doall with Max suggested that we this all go back with him, some timeabout and figure out what happened, that we shouldn't talk to anyone about what happened until we knew more. I swear I could feel the gears turnin' in his head, not just suspect it, but FEEL it. Still, it seemed like a good idea, so I agreed. "But that's when the Yank started talking. She had this firey look in her eyes, and she said she was taking this power back to her country. "Now, I'd never trusted her. All along, I kept an eye on on her, waitin' for the snake to strike. In that moment, our eyes eyes met, and I knew she was striking. striking. We both drew, we both both fired. Bitch was fast, just as fast as me. But my aim was just a bit better, better, and I had her outgunned outgunned two-ta-one. two-ta-one. She got me arm, but I got her worse. worse. She didn't take take any more shots, shots, she just just turned and ran, ran, best as she she could. I fell. The others, bless them, they were more worried about me than about stopping her. "So, there ya have it, friend," Liam looked looked up. "I'm here in your bar 'cause we've been in Edinburgh for a week, an' it doesn't make any more sense, and I just know the others are all hiding something. So that's it; me whole crazy story. Sorry ya asked?" asked?" "No, lad," the barkeep replied, all the warmth gone out of his voice. "As a matter of fact, I'm right glad ye told me here. here. Saves us having t'get t'get it out of ye later. Now, you come with with me quietly, and you'll you'll be treated well." "Ah, fuck," Liam sighed. He took a moment to look around, but he knew there wasn't anyone else in the bar. He could feel the emptiness of the place. He cursed himself for not having paid more attention when he came in. He was so intent on getting drunk that he'd walked into a trap. But there was a tingle in

 

his mind. He could feel something... "An' if I don't? Is that what the two lads in the back are for?"  The barkeep raises his eyebrows. "Now that is impressive. Yer Arcana are developing quickly, but talent will only get ye so far. We can teach ye, and we can show ye why ye have have this power ... and what it is yer meant t'do with it." As the barkeep spoke, Liam was focusing. The rough, earthy leather of his gloves helped his mind to sharpen, and he looked up into the eyes of the other man. In a flash, Liam felt what was intended for him: indoctrination, submission, submis sion, servitude. This man saw Liam only as a tool, a weapon to use against his enemies. Liam also saw what they'd do to him if he didn't cooperate. cooperate. "I'll pass," Liam said, and he slipped from the bar stool, falling to the floor. Before he hit the ground, he drew a gun with his good hand. He instinctively used the gun as he has used his gloves, tapping intoand thefired weapon's purpose and the the bar. solidity its composition. hadthe no wood doubt,and no the hesitation. He twisted two shots through Heof heard his shots rip Liam through barkeep's knees. The barkeep screamed as he went down. Liam rose, and put a bullet into the head of each of the armed men that came running in from the back room, again firing in just the right spots without hesitation. Liam cursed the pain in his slinged arm, and leaned over the bar. The fallen barkeep was still concious, but Liam didn't think he'd be that way long at the rate he was loosing blood. "I suppose your superiors'll be along t' collect ya before ya bleed out," Liam's tone was casual. "When ya talk t' them, tell 'em t' leave me the fuck alone. Call it the Liam Ultimatum." Liam went out onto the dark streets of Edinburgh, started back to Max's place, then stopped. He began to question how well he really knew the man, or or his other companions. Liam was sure not a one of  them had spoken everything they thought or felt about what had happened to them. Liam didn't blame them for that, but it still left him hesitatant. Max especially especially made him hesitatant. Sure, Max seemed harmless, but he had showed himself to be part of a network just as vast as the one that had hunted them. What was his agenda? But what other option option did Liam have? have? Liam was a soldier. soldier. He wasn't mindless, mindless, but he was a follower, not a leader. What would he do on his own? Would he be able to find answers? answers? Liam's new-found senses flared to life. Liam knew there was something in the shadows of the alley he was passing. In the space of an eyeblink, Liam was pointing a pistol into the dark. "Come outLiam where I canhave see ya, or I swear shootinya dead." Whatever might thought to be I'll lurking the dark, he did not expect a living shadow to detatch itself from the dim and come forward to stand in the light. ... i apologize ... for startling you ... i am here to ... offer an alternative ...

 The shadow's voice was like a warm whisper that did not seem to come from any one place. "What the bloody fuck are ya?" ... i am ... my master's shadow ...

"Jaysus Christ! Christ! Who's your master, master, then?" ... i am not ... permitted to ... speak his name ... i am here ... to offer you ... employment ...

"Oh I don't fuckin' think so," Liam replied. "I may be out o' my fuckin' mind, but I'm not about t' take a job from a fuckin' talkin' shadow."  The shadow rippled, like a person shuffling their feet. ... whatever payment ... you desire-"I don't care what your fuckin' gonna pay me!" Liam interrupted. "I've had enough o' conspiracies an' mysteries." ... please ... The word seemed difficult for the shadow to speak. ... my master understands ...  your hesitation ... but he is in need ... of a marksman ...

"If this is so bloody important t' him, why doesn't he come himself? himself? Wait, why am I still talkin' t' you? The answer is no! No more secrets, no more mysteries, no more. I'm leaving," Liam turned to leave, holstering his weapon. But then a sharp jab went through him, like an explosion of headache, but in his instincts rath er than any sense or body part. The pain reminded him of the fire that had burned him in the rather iron tower. A man stepped from the darkness of the alleyway, and Liam had no doubt he was the source of  the pain. The man was dressed in an immaculate suit, blacker than midnight. He wore a pair of inky black sunglasses, and had a tied back mane mane of platinum blond hair. hair. The feeling pouring pouring over Liam seemed to be radiating from this man. Being close to him was like staring into the sun for Liam's new senses. "Fucking Hell!" Liam cried. "I am sorry," the man sighed. sighed. His voice was strong, strong, confident, confident, but not unfeeling. unfeeling. "I sent my shadow to spare you this kind of encounter ... and because it is dangerous for me to be here."  The intensity of what Liam was feeling dimmed somewhat as he became aclimitized. "Who are you and what the fuck is going on here? Are you part of what happened to me?" "In order: I am The Magus, and I am attempting to negotiate a contract with you. No, I had no part in anything that has happened to you." "'The Magus?'" Liam replied. replied. "I don't fuckin' think so. so. You'll give me a name, name, or I'm not listening listening to another fuckin' word."  The man bowed his head a little and sighed. "Very well. I am sure you have reasons to be suspicious. My name is Seun." "Well, that's something, I guess," guess," Liam conceded. "Frankly, I don't know why I'm still standing here, but if you're willin' t' be straight with me, I'm willin' t' hear ya out." "I am glad to hear it," it," said Seun. "You have many questions. questions. I will answer answer them as best I can." Liam took a breath, then shook his head. "No. No, you're not bein' straight. I-- I can't explain it,

 

but I know this gestured at Seun. Seun. "This is a lie." lie." this isn't you. This," Liam gestured Seun sighed again. "Very well." Seun tilted his head back, and the suit seemed to unravel, vanishing into smokey shadow. From underneath the suit, a rippling robe billowed out, hooded and cloaked. Everything around them seemed to darken, and Seun's face vanished completly beneath the hood. Two points of blue light shone out of that darkness like eyes. Liam had never seen anything like it. Seun was almost as shadow-like as the shadow that had spoken for him earlier, now patiently waiting to the side. "This is my true seeming," Seun said gravely. Liam blinked as he stared at the figure robed in darkness. "I think I must be suffering from some kind shock overload. to suddenly being psychic, and a talking shadow, this doesn't seem so bad. o'Now, what do you Compared want with me?" "I am sponsoring an expedition," Seun explained. "For which I am seeking masters of various skills. You are the greatest master I could find in the skill of marksmanship." "Oh as if this isn't deja fuckin' fuckin' vu," Liam muttered. "Alright, look. look. I'm sure whatever whatever it is you're after is somethin' dreadfully dreadfully important t' you, possibly t' others as well. But what's important t' me is understanding understandin g what's happened t' me. Can ya do that ?" ?" "I can," was Seun's simple reply. "Then maybe I've lost me mind," Liam concluded. "But sign me up." *** Peter Johnson was taking a walk down the streets of Winnipeg. It was a warm spring day, and Peter enjoyed the breezes, the sun, and the smell in the air. He wore the hood of his white sweatshit up, not because he wanted to shade himself, but because he felt naked without it. As he walked, he felt an urge, a lack of a cane or a walking stick of some kind. He frowned somewhat at this feeling, pondering the nature of Icons. Every instinct, comfort, and whim seemed to make him more and more the Prophet that the media had named him. It begged the question to him, was the use of that name making him more that kind of man, or was he given that name because people instinctively recognized him as such? Were Icons defined or werehe their names destined to their nature? Fornot allanswer. that Peter could see into the heart by andtheir soulnames, of any person met, this was a question that he could  There was a woman on the corner corner talking on a cell phone. An ordinary person couldn't have heard her from half way down the street, but Peter was far from ordinary. Her voice cut through the din of  the city street, coming to his ears as though she were next to him. "Can you believe that nerve of that bitch?!" the woman ranted. "We were perfectly happy until she came along!" Peter stopped listening to her words, instead listening to the cries of her heart. When he reached the corner, he touched the woman lightly on the arm. She turned on him. "What?!" She snapped. "Get your hands off--!" "Your anger is an attempt to escape your pain," Peter spoke gently, but his words halted her fury dead. "If you care for him, him, look past yourself. yourself. You have been hurt, hurt, and that is sad, but don't don't blame her for his change of heart."  The woman swallowed, her fingers trembling as they closed her phone. "I-- I just-- I mean--" "I know," Peter reassured her. "But letting pain twist into hatred won't make you feel any better. Go home, cry, do whatever you need to begin healing, and you can rise again, strong and healthy." "I-- Thank you," the woman nodded, nodded, tears in her eyes. "Thank you." Peter left her to get on with her life, crossed the street with the lights, and entered the Millenium Library. A few moments later, he sat down at a reading table with a stack of books. The Báb and Bahá'u'lláh, Elijah, Jesus, Joseph Smith, Mohammed, Moses, and Zoroaster; Peter was intent on reading up on as many prophets as he could, and these seemed like a good start. An hour and a half into his reading, it became obvious to Peter that while his perceptions had become super sharp, his memory had not. He leaned back in the chair and rubbed his eyes. Maybe there was a reason he'd dropped out of University; Peter was never any good at studying. One thing had sunk in from his reading: every one of these prophets identified the power that they spoke for. Each of them had some kind of revelation or visitation that identified the power that drove them. He had yet to find any case like his own, a prophet who wakes up with drive and ability, but no notion of source. But then it occurred to him that he lived in a different age from most prophets. prophets. A thousand, or even a hundred years ago would he not have assumed that he was touched by some god? Someone who can heal with a touch used to be a miracle worker, now they were simply Icons. Perhaps the two were the same; perhaps there had always been Icons, and those who were noticed were hailed as touched by the gods. Like prophets, like the heroes of myth. Peter groaned. He had come to the library looking for answers, but found himself with deeper questions instead. Perhaps he needed to stop thinking about it. Maybe he'd head down to one of the soup kitchens, there was always pleny of work-And then Peter knew that he needed to leave. The knowledge was as sure as it was sudden; there was somewhere else that Peter needed to be. Peter put his sweatshirt back on as he rose, and as he made his way onto the street, an image

 

came into his mind: in a shadowed alley was a creature like a living pool of darkness. Peter stepped out onto McDonald Street, and turned confidently left. He walked without further thought to his surroundings, turning corners or crossing streets as his instincts directed him. As he walked, Peter pondered the imagery he had seen. He might have expected to feel malice or violent intent from such a dark creature, but there was only calm purpose and a strange hollowness. Peter lifted his eyes from the pavement in front of his feet to discover he had reached the alleyway he'd seen. His eyes were drawn to the dark shadow cast by a bank building. As he looked, the air began to ripple, like the distortion caused by heat. From the disturbance emerged the shadow-being that he had seen. found.

Peter peered into the shadow, looking not just at it, but into it. He was quite quite surprised by what he "You are the messenger of another," another," Peter addressed the shadow. shadow. "Speak your message." message." ... i come ... seeking ... your assistance ...

"With what?" ... my master ... is seeking ... something lost ... your perception ... is keen ... my master ... values ... your abilities ...

"You call him your master," Peter observed, observed, "But he is more than that. You are part of him." ... i am ... my master's ... shadow ...

"Indeed. Your master is vague to me. He hides his nature, hides it very well." ... my master ... has enemies ... many enemies ... powerful enemies ... what is not seen ... cannot  be exploited ...

"And what of those he wishes to assist him? Shrouding himself from my sight does not engender trust." ... time ... is short ... my master has ... no time ... to study ... to watch ... to learn ... to gauge ...

"You are here not only to recruit me, but to inspect me, to make sure I'm the kind of man your master wants." ... yes ...

"And? Am I?" ... it seems ... that you are ... look again ... and you ... shall see clearly ...

Peter once again peered into the shadow, and this time, he also saw into the man who cast the shadow. "Speak to me of what your master seeks," said Peter when he felt he had gauged the shadow's origin. ... i am not ... permitted ... to speak of it ... for that ... you must speak ... to my master ...

"And how do I do that? Where do I find him?" ... i ... can take you ... to him ... and ... return you here ... if that is ... your wish ...

"Yes, I think that you should."  The shadow reached out and enveloped Peter. The darkness was soft and warm. There was a sensation of movement, of shifting somehow. The shadow withdrew from around him, and Peter found himself in the entry hall of a castle.  The hall was a valley of shadows, a few wall torches the only source of light. The stone walls were lined with tapestries: elves, fairies, centaurs, centaurs , and the like. There were doors on each side of the hall, but Peter's eyes were drawn to the spiral stairway at the opposite end of the hall. Descending that stairway was a man covered in a robe and cloak that rippled like liquid night. The cloak's hood was pulled up, creaking a pool of darkness that completely hid the man's face. There were however, two points of blue light where Peter would expect eyes to be. "Welcome to my home," the man said. "And thank you for your willingness willingness to listen." "It was not words that convinced me," Peter replied. replied. "You work very hard to protect people people you've never met, even though most of them will never know." Something changed in the robed man with those words. His presence seemed to dwindle, becoming more human. His robe and cloak seemed nothing more than dark cloth, and hung without rippling. "Your vision is keen," he said. Peter walked forward and offered his hand, "My name is Peter Johnson, but people have started calling me The Prophet."  The robed man laughed lightly, and took Peter's hand. "I have long been called The Magus, but my name is Seun." Peter blinked. "Your name is not something you are accustomed to giving. You show great trust in me by sharing it." "A thing I have done more in the past week than I am comfortable with," The Magus admitted. "But trust must be established established." ." "So I am not the only person you've recruited." "Indeed not," said The Magus. "An expedition requires experts in several fields. My shadow was to seek someone with keen sight, who would notice things others would miss. Now, however, I would ask you to perform another function." "You want me to watch the others, too." "They should be trustworthy," The Magus sighed. "But what should be is not always what is." "Tell me more about about this expedition. What is its goal?" goal?" "The goal is to find a place, a city, that has been lost for time out of mind."

 

"You're not participating, are you?" "I cannot. My presence would only further endanger everyone else. In my life I have have made many enemies, and some of them are very powerful. If any of them became aware that I knew where to start looking ... well, let us just say that is a thing best avoided." "I understand," Peter nodded. "I believe I have come to a decision. It seems to me that this thing is important, and to more people than you've let on." "Indeed." "Then I suppose I'd best come along." When The Magus had seen Peter to a guest room, he went up to his study. An open book sat upon his desk,and waiting. In the was the written of worldwalking that The Magus come across, he hoped to book find within its oldest pages a peice record to the puzzle now placed before him. had ... master ...

 The voice came from deep within The Magus, from the place where his power flowed out to animate his shadow. Yes, my shadow? The Magus answered in his mind. ... i have found ... the final two ... So quickly? ... yes master ... the warriors ... they are together ... Together? You know that my limit is one per world. ... yes master ... they are ... from different worlds ... they are ... at the crossroads inn ... I see. Proceed. Your instructions have not changed: bring them here. I will go now and contact  the final candidate. ... master? ... They will need a worldwalker, my shadow ... and it cannot be me. ... master ... the risk of ... going yourself ... I have had to do so already. And this one ... he deserves my direct attention.

*** Sean Murphy, mug in hand, wrapped in his housecoat, stood in the doorway of the log cabin he shared with Tara and looked out at the spring morning. He sipped at his tea, and took in the day. Birds sang in the trees, and sunlight trickled trickled through the leaves. The breeze was scented with flowers, flowers, and all around was a deep sense of peace. Sean could not imagine more perfect world. "Good morning, morning, lover," came a sweet voice beside him. Sean started a bit, but then slipped his arm around Tara and passed her his mug. "Good morning. morning. You startled me." me." "A girl's got to keep in shape," she purred at him. "I thought we might take a picnic down to the Stones today," Sean suggested as Tara sipped from the mug. "Mm, I told the kids I'd take them to see Charlie today," Tara countered. countered. "Well, we could make it a more ... private picnic," Sean replied. "Mmm," Tara purred. "We are due for some time alone, I think." "I agree. What do you want to do for breakfast?" "We've still got that cheese, right? right ? How about you get some of your famous bread in the oven?  That should wake the kids." "I'm too good to you," Sean smirked. "I love you," Tara replied and kissed his cheek.  Two hours later the cabin was filled with the smell of fresh bread, and Donald and Rhiannon came pattering into the kitchen for breakfast. While the twins, and their mother, hungrily attacked his fresh bread, Sean suddenly found himself thinking about Regina. Sean tried not to think about all the people that had died there, and after seven years, he had gotten pretty good at it. It wasn't as if there was more he could have done. In fact every morning that he woke up, Sean was amazed at what he had done. When all the forces of death and destructio destruction n rose up to snuff out all life on Earth, something cracked inside Sean Murphy, and when he realized that nothing any mortal power could do would save the world, Sean found power through that crack. In the last moments before the end of the world, Sean found the power to leave it. Not only that, but he found the power to take those who were with him as well: Tara, the children, Charlie, and most of  the Changeli Changelings. ngs. When they all woke up, there were here in this place. Sean had no idea where where it was, but they had seen no sight of anyone anyone else. They had all explored. explored. With the exception exception of a circle of standing standing stones, they found nothing but woodlands. The Changelings had helped Sean and Tara build this house, using their magic to replace some modern conveniences, and then had built their own homes on the other side of the standing stone circle. "Sean!" Tara's voice finally finally cut through Sean's thoughts. He started, snapping back back to the present. The twins were giggling; apparently, apparently, she'd been trying to get his attention attention for a while. "Sorry, love," love," Sean turned to her. "Lost to my thoughts." "Well, glad you've found your way back to us," she chided, sparking a new round of giggles from

 

the children. "Looks like you little monsters are just about done destroying my bread," Sean observed with a smirk. "Why don't you two go get dressed, and your mom will take you down to the Freehold." When the twins had run off, Tara looked across the table at Sean, adjusting her housecoat. "And what will you be doing while I'm taking the kids to the Freehold?" she asked. "Why, I'll be making up a special lunch for us, darling." "Is that what you've been so distracted about over there? Your lunch ideas?" Tara's tone suggested she thought this was unlikely. "It's nothing, Tara--" "Ehem. Sean." Sean sighed. "I've of been thinking about home." "'Home'? It's kind funny to think of the old world as 'home.' I never had a home there, I wasn't even the same person for more than a year at a time. This is the first real home I've ever had, Sean." He nodded, "I suppose suppose that's true. How about this? After you're done walking walking the kids to the Freehold, I'll meet you at the Stones. Maybe I need some time to myself." When Sean arrived, he set the picnic basket down at the edge of the circle, and walked to the center stone. Standing alone amongst the upright stones, Sean closed his eyes and soaked in the feeling. He looked inward, and could feel his father's blood shifting within him. Sean sighed and chided himself. Since coming to this place, he had spent so much time amongst the Changelings and thinking about magic that he had neglected his Garou blood; no wonder he wasn't quite feeling himself. Taking a deep breath, he focused his energy, and called out the wolf within.  There was a burst of energy within himself as muscles and bones reformed themselves, and Sean stalked through the stones as a wolf. He breathed in the sharp scents, and then bolted. He ran free, simply rejoicing in the power of the animal form. Sean ran from the Stones and bolted through the trees, weaving and dodging. He gave up thought, and just ran by instinct and feeling. It was glorious.  Then something else came to Sean's animal senses, a smell. It had been long since this scent had come to his nose, and he'd forgotten how comforting it could be. He ran through the trees towards the smell, stopping as he came to a clump of bushes. She was there, somewhere, but--shape -- comparable in size to the wolf -- burst from the bushes and ran. Sean A tawny feline gave chase, pursuing pursuing Tara through the trees. She was faster than him, and more agile, agile, yet she never got too far ahead. She led him around the woods briefly, then back to the Stones.  The two animals entered the circle, panting heavily. Tara looked at him, and was suddenly human again. The transformation was so fast the eye could barely follow it. She was flushed, panting, and beautiful beyond words. Sean let go inside of himself, releasing the power that kept him in this shape, and became his human self again, as well. Sean and Tara went to each other, and shared a very passionate embrace and kiss. "Feeling better, lover?" She whispered to him. "I--" Sean began, but then a deeply disturbing feeling came over him. It was a twisting in his stomach, as if the world had suddenly lurched. Sean turned, and saw a figure approaching. Stepping into the circle of stones was a man, hooded and cloaked. His hood created a pool of  darkness that completely hid his face, and two strange blue light shone out like eyes. The cloak and robe were so black that they seemed to be made of liquid darkness.  Tara snarled, and her shape changed slightly. She became more muscular and feral, an upright cat-woman. Sean called to the power within him, and felt lightning crackle just under his palms. "Please," the stranger lift lift his hands, palms towards them. "I am sorry to disturb you, and I mean you no harm." Power rolled in his voice. "Who are you, and how did you come to be here?" Sean demanded. "I am called The Magus, and I arrived here by traversing the Void between worlds." "If you mean us no harm, then please explain what you are here for," Sean asked curtly. "Certainly. I have come with the hope of enlisting you in a ... I dislike using the word 'quest,' 'quest,' but I suppose it is the most appropriate." "How do you know who I am, and how did you find me?" asked Sean. "Interestingly "Interestin gly enough, those questions have the same answer," replied The Magus. "I found you by magic. This magic was not woven to find you, specifically, but to find someone with a certain skill, a skill which you possess." "And what skill might that be?" It was the first time Tara had spoken since the dark stranger had arrived. "This will take some explaining," replied The Magus. "And your suspicions have you on edge. I would rather everyone were more comfortable." "Well, we're not taking you to our home," said Tara, with some hostility. "Nor would you trust me to take you to mine. So how do I display my good faith?" "Your name," Sean replied. replied. "People who introduce introduce themselves with titles do so because their their names have power. If you want the fast track to trust, give me your name."  The Magus bowed his head slightly, and the blue lights vashed. He sighed, and the lights returned as he lifted his head. "I suppose I might have come to expect this by now. Very well: my name is Seun." "And I am Sean Murphy," Sean allowed the crackles of electricity to fade back into his palms, and

 

extended his hand.  The Magus took the offered hand and shook it. His grip was firm without being overpowering, something that Sean appreciated.  Tara did not offer a name, and The Magus did not ask for one. "Now," said Sean, "this skill of mine that you need-- which one is it? As a Kinfolk? Kinain? HedgeMage? Wraith interpreter?" "Walking between between worlds," The Magus replied matter-of-factly. matter-of-factly. "And altering the worlds to protect companions if need be." "Reality warping? Sorry, but you're too late. My Avatar used to be capable of True Magic, but whatever I did to escape the Apocalypse seems to have burned it out. I'm just a hedge-mage again." Thequite Magus replied about replied thoughtful thoughtfully. "Yes, I can understand understa am afraid"Ah," you are mistaken whatly.has happened to you."nd how you might think that was so. I "What do you mean?" Tara asked the question, as Sean had fallen silent. "You both believe that escaping your world's death was too much for Sean and his magic, and that the spark within him either died or fell into slumber. Rather, it would be more accurate to say that something else awoke." Sean shook his head. "No, I don't believe it." "You do not wish to, perhaps, and I do not blame you. This is a beautiful world." "I--" Sean Sean halted. "I found it." "No, Sean. You made it. You dreamed it. You created it. This world is yours." "Sean, darling?" Tara asked. "No," Sean shook his head. "No." "Then it seems I must show you. you. I am sorry."  The Magus turned away from them, and a staff appeared in his hand; a length of dark wood topped with a crystal. crystal. Presently that crystal crystal began to shine with with a blue light. The Magus pointed, pointed, and the air by the trees began to ripple. But Sean knew it wasn't just rippling. He could feel what was happening, as though it were happening to part of himself. The world was getting thin. "Stop!" Sean barked. "Make meSean stop," The Magus replied. "I can't!" protested. "You can," The Magus insisted.  Tara didn't understand what was happening, but she wasn't about to let someone threaten their home. She leapt forward, snarling as she used her fury to shift instantly into her war form: a massive, nine foot tall cat-woman, all fur and claws and muscle.  Just out of arm's length of The Magus she slammed into an unseen barrier and was stopped dead.  The ripple in the air worsened, and specks of black began to show, as though the world were a curtain that was wearing thin. "No!" Sean shouted, and lifted his hands. He held his palms towards the rippling, and pushed with a power from within. Some of the black specks vanished, and The Magus lowered his pointing arm. Sean felt resistance to his power vanish, and soon the world was stong and solid again. Sean sighed, and looked down at the ground. Tara slipped back down into her human shape and approached her mate. "Sean?" "I don't want it to be true," Sean Sean said quietly. "I never wanted power power like this. I was content with the magic of my heritage. I am part werewolf, part faerie, and a Fenian. I pushed myself to be more because my family needed needed me to be more ... But my family is safe now. Can't I just enjoy that?"  Tara turned on The Magus. "Why did you come here?! What do you want from him?!"  The Magus spread his hands in apology. "I am sorry. I would be at home with my own daughter were it not for the need before me." "And what is your need?" Sean asked, lifting his head. "That takes you away from your family." "Just as there is weather upon worlds," The Magus replied, "there is weather between worlds.  There is a storm coming, a terrible storm. I have seen it upon the horizon, and it frightens me. When this storm comes, it will beat upon the worlds in its path, and they will crumble, like rocks into the sea." "And what I can do about this?" "There was once a city, a great city, that sat at a nexus of worlds. The people of this city knew much that is now lost. It is in this city that I seek to find the means to protect those worlds worlds who lie in the storm's path. My own world world is one of of these. This is another." another." "If you know all about this," Tara challenged him, "why can't you do it yourself?" "I have made many powerful enemies," The Magus answered her. "There are many powers of  death, chaos, darkness, and corruption who would seek to erode my works, or perhaps even lend aid to any forces that threatens something precious to me. I have taken every means to move with the utmost subtlety and caution, so that I may not announce my own involvement. I need a worldwalker, and Sean is the first that I found that could not be connected to me." "I will do what I must," Sean said simply, firmly. "I did not bring my family to this place only to watch them, and it, be destroyed. I have witnessed the death of one world. I will not witness another." "I thank you," said The Magus. "When the sun next sets in this place, my shadow will come to you."

 

Sean and Tara watched as The Magus left their world, and then they held each other for a long time. "I don't want you to go," she said finally. "I don't want to go either. But if what he said is true ..." "I know," she whispered. "If you don't come back, I'll find you." "I know," he whispered back to her. "Nothing will keep us apart. Nothing."