Chapter 1

Sowing Fear

The sergeant opened the door to the tavern in Valdo and stepped into the dimly-lit room. He paused for a moment to let his eyes adjust to the darkness as he scanned the tables looking for a likely target. As was customary, many of the patrons glanced towards the door to see who had entered the establishment. More than a few eyes lingered on the newcomer far longer than necessary to determine if a friend had arrived. Some of the patrons noted the long, nasty scar that ran from the sergeant’s temple to his jaw. Others smiled knowingly at the sergeant’s full beard, recognizing it as an obvious attempt to lessen the visual impact of the man’s scarred flesh. There was a twinge of sympathy from some, but most were apathetic to the sergeant’s misfortune. But it was neither the scar nor the beard that set the sergeant apart from a normal visitor to the tavern. It was the patch on his uniform. The patch of the 15^th Corps of Ertak was seldom seen in the city of Valdo. In fact, there had always been a bit of a rivalry between the soldiers of Spino and those of Ertak.

The sergeant ignored the stares, and locked his eyes on a table where two corporals belonging to Spino’s 21^st Corps sat talking quietly. He made his way across the room and sat across the table from the two corporals. The men were among those few who had not bothered to gaze upon the newcomer, and they were so deep into their discussion that they did not even acknowledge the sergeant’s arrival at their table. The sergeant sat quietly, listening to the conversation that centered on the coming war. He did not offer his own thoughts. Indeed, he purposely appeared not to be listening, a man lost in his own thoughts. The serving girl came by, and the sergeant ordered a pitcher of mountain ale. That simple act caught the attention of his two table-mates. The corporals looked across the table, seemingly noticing the sergeant for the first time.

“Gold to burn?” asked one of the corporals.

“What’s an Ertakan doing in Valdo?” asked the other.

The sergeant raised his eyes from the table to look at the two corporals. He smiled thinly at their comments.

“Valdo has always had the best ale,” he commented. “Besides, the gold is not mine. Why shouldn’t I enjoy the best?”

The serving girl returned with the pitcher of special ale and set it down on the table. The sergeant filled his mug and casually waved towards the pitcher.

“You are welcome to share my ale if you wish,” he offered.

The two corporals looked at each another with skeptical expressions.

“What’s the catch?” one of the corporals asked.

“No catch,” smiled the sergeant. “I travel frequently from Farmin to Despair, and the colonel gives me a generous travel allowance. I always try to stop in Valdo on the way through. Drink up and enjoy yourselves.”

Both of the corporals smiled broadly and filled their mugs.

“We don’t often meet friendly Ertakans,” offered one of the corporals. “Be careful or you will spoil your country’s reputation.”

The sergeant laughed and nodded. “Truth be told, I was born in the Bloodwood. It might have been on the Ertak side of the border, but not by much. I probably have more in common with the men of Spino than my own countrymen. Ertakans actually think the Dark Forest is beautiful. They have never enjoyed a good romp in the Bloodwood.”

“Here, here,” one of the corporals heartily agreed.

“What takes you to Despair so often?” asked the other corporal.

“Intelligence,” the sergeant answered. “General Montero wants to be kept up-to-date on the Alceans. He doesn’t like surprises in the field.”

“Really?” the corporal responded with interest. “So you know a lot about Alcea and what it is like? Can you share what Despair has told you?”

The sergeant frowned heavily and hesitated to answer.

“You can’t be asking the sergeant things like that,” scolded the other corporal. “You’ll get him in trouble. Drink his ale and be happy.”

The sergeant sighed and smiled slightly. “The truth is, Despair has little to offer about Alcea. I carry a lot of information about troop strength and matters concerning the disposition of the 15^th Corps, and I cannot speak of that, but they say little about Alcea.”

“Perhaps they don’t know much about it,” suggested one of the corporals. “I heard they sent some colonels there just a little while ago.”

“That is true,” replied the sergeant, “but they were not the first scouts we sent to Alcea. I spent over a year in Alcea, and that was two years ago. We have been planning this invasion for some time.”

“Really?” one of the corporals asked excitedly. “Tell us about it.”

Again the sergeant hesitated, but this time the other corporal did not interrupt with any admonishments about the need for secrecy. When the sergeant still hesitated, the first corporal pushed further.

“Two years ago is a long time. Surely, there can be no reason for secrecy at this point. Tell us about Alcea. What are their armies like?”

“And their women?” chuckled the other corporal. “What are they like?”

The sergeant made a point of glancing around the room to see if anyone else was listening to the conversation. While there was no one else listening, his gesture accomplished what he had desired. Both corporals were suddenly aware that they were about to become privy to something secret.

“Their armies are small, but formidable,” the sergeant said softly. “Our generals will stress the small part of that, but we are in for a fight when we get there. The Alceans are a warlike people. Remember, Alcea is about the same size as all of Zara, and it is a single country. That didn’t happen peacefully. Think about the years of warfare something like that would require right here in Zara.”

“The Federation almost covers the entire continent,” frowned one of the corporals. “Isn’t that the same thing?”

“Hardly,” scoffed the sergeant. “The rulers here in Zara are meek compared to the Alceans. They fought bloody wars over there for years. About four years ago, they ended the last war. Hundreds of thousands of soldiers from all over the continent were pitted against one another. Say what you will about the Alceans, but they know how to fight. Even if we do outnumber them, they will give us a decent challenge.”

“Well, we are up for any challenge,” boasted one of the corporals. “The world has never seen an army the size of the Federation. Nothing can stand in our way.”

“I would agree with that,” sighed the sergeant, “if it were not for…”

The sergeant suddenly stopped talking and looked around the room again. He returned his eyes to his mug of ale and stared into it. Several long moments passed by in silence. Eventually, the corporals could not stand the silence.

“Were not for what?” probed one of the corporals.

The sergeant looked up and stared blankly into the face of the questioning corporal. He did not speak.

“Yeah, what is it that you fear to talk about?” pushed the other corporal.

The sergeant’s eyes flicked towards the questioning corporal and then glanced around the room again.

“You will not repeat what I am about to say,” the sergeant said in a soft, but stern voice. “If the officers hear you repeat my words, they will take steps to punish you severely. There are some things about Alcea that they do not want the soldiers to know.”

“We will keep your words to ourselves,” promised one of the soldiers.

The sergeant sighed and hesitated again, but eventually he leaned towards the corporals and spoke softly.

“Beware the dwarves!

One of the corporals blinked as if not believing his ears. “What? What are you talking about? There are no dwarves. There haven’t been any for hundreds of years.”

“He’s playing with us,” the other corporal offered, his voice wavering between humor and fear.

“No one in Zara has seen dwarves for hundreds of years,” the sergeant continued, “but in Alcea it is different. There the dwarves have flourished, and they are the most ferocious of opponents. If you learn nothing else from our chance meeting, learn this. Beware the dwarves!”

“How bad can they be?” asked one of the corporals. “There are only so many things you can do with a sword, and the 21st Corps has many a good swordsman. I don’t think we need to fear dwarf or man. We will have the numbers to overpower anything they can throw at us.”

“Dwarves do not fight with swords,” corrected the sergeant. “They throw axes that will split your armored head in two, but their main weapon is the battleaxe, and most humans couldn’t even lift one. It is a fearsome weapon that can cleave a horse in two, but even worse is their armor. Dwarven armor is magically enchanted to withstand the mightiest blows. Try as you might, you just can’t harm the dwarves. They wade into your ranks, swinging those huge battleaxes around, and there is nothing you can do but run.”

“Surely, that is an exaggeration?” posed one of the corporals.

“I do not think so,” the sergeant replied with a slight shaking of his head. “The stories told in Alcean cities are that King Arik counted each of his dwarves as one hundred men. I didn’t believe those stories at first, but they were repeated in every major city in Alcea. Still skeptical, I visited one of the war burial grounds and asked to see a dwarven tomb. The groundskeeper laughed at me as if I was making a joke. When I assured him that I was serious, he explained to me that not a single dwarf had died during the Great War.”

“A hundred to one?” gasped one of the corporals. “Ten dwarves could take on a whole company? A hundred dwarves could defeat an entire army? I cannot imagine a creature so invincible.”

The sergeant remained silent, his grim face giving credence to the warning. He could see the fear rising across the table from him, and he knew that it was time to move on. He waited patiently for the question that he knew would eventually be asked.

“I hope we don’t run into any of them,” the other corporal said, his voice quaking with fear. “Which lands over there are dwarven?”

“The dwarves are usually found in Sordoa,” answered the sergeant, “just south of Trekum.”

The corporals swallowed hard and stared at each other in alarm.

“That is where we are going!” exclaimed one of the corporals.

Zackary Nolan nodded sympathetically and stood to take his leave. His message was meant explicitly for the men of the 21st Corps, and he smiled inwardly having delivered it properly. He leaned down and whispered once more before turning and leaving.

“Beware the dwarves!”

The sergeant left the tavern and headed for another to continue sowing fear of the dwarves, dwarves that he knew would one day soon be pitted against the men of the 21^st Corps. The sergeant had only walked two blocks before a young corporal from the 15^th Corps fell in alongside him. The young corporal was one of Zack’s Zaran confederates, and he was also spreading fear about the dwarves.

“How did it go?” the sergeant asked the corporal.

“It went well,” grinned Bork. “By morning the whole garrison will be talking furtively about the possibility of going up against the dwarves.”

“As long as the tales do not make their way to the ears of the officers,” cautioned Zack. “You did warn them that their officers would punish them?”

“I did,” Bork assured the Alcean spymaster.

“Excellent,” smiled the sergeant. “Be off with you to another tavern.”

“There is something else that requires your attention this night,” stated Bork without breaking away from the sergeant’s side. “Cobb thinks he has found that special someone that you have been looking for.”

“Oh?” Zack halted and turned to face the corporal. “Tell me about it.”

Bork looked around to see if anyone was within hearing before speaking softly.

“The man is a sergeant in the 16^th Corps under General Vladin. He makes numerous trips into the Royal Palace as part of his duties.”

“That works for the plan,” stated Zack. “What is the hook?”

“He has a gambling problem,” answered Bork, “a big gambling problem. He has been borrowing gold out of the paymaster’s funds when no one is looking. He has always managed to replace the stolen funds before the soldiers returned from the field, but things have gotten out of hand. He lost big today, and tonight he learned that the soldiers will be returning tomorrow, several days ahead of schedule. He does not have the gold to replace what he stole.”

The Alcean spymaster frowned as he stared at the ground. Bork knew Zachary well enough not to interrupt. He waited patiently for Zack to contemplate the next move.

“He must have been drunk to share that information with Cobb,” Zachary eventually said. “Stealing from the paymaster earns a very public hanging in the Federation.”

“He is very drunk,” admitted Bork, “and very scared, but you taught Cobb and me well. The man holds a slim hope that Cobb can come up with a plan to save his neck.”

“How much does he need?” asked Zack.

“Five thousand.”

Zack whistled softly. “Our thief has expensive habits. That is actually a plus. It shows that he has been living on the edge for some time without getting caught. He must be fairly good at hiding his emotions. Take me to him.”

Bork nodded and led the sergeant through the streets of the city until they came to the Journey’s Rest Inn, a modest inn for the budget conscious traveler. Zachary had rented rooms there for his military persona, while he also had rooms at the Greystone Inn for his Lord Zachary persona. Bork led the spymaster up the rear stairs and knocked softly on the door to Cobb’s room. Cobb immediately opened the door and admitted his two confederates.

Sitting on the couch was a rumpled sergeant wearing the patch of the 16^th Corps. He rose unsteadily as the two men entered the room, fear etched into his face. Zachary smiled at the man and crossed the room. He sat in a chair facing the couch and waved for the man to sit down.

“I understand that you have a problem,” opened Zachary. “I might be able to help you, but my help doesn’t come without conditions.”

The Spinoan sergeant swayed unsteadily and sort of fell into a sitting position on the couch, his head turning from side to side trying his best to focus on the new arrivals.

“I will not deal with a drunk,” scowled Zachary. “Get this man sobered up.”

“I have been trying,” sighed Cobb as he shoved another cup of coffee at the drunk sergeant.

Zack stood and removed his pack. As he rummaged through the pack he ordered Bork to get some cold water and an empty bucket. The former caravan warrior returned moments later with two buckets, one filled with icy cold water. Zack took the empty bucket from Bork’s hands and handed it to the drunk sergeant.

“Hold that between your knees,” Zachary scowled at the drunk, “and swallow this.”

Zachary roughly tilted the man’s head back and poured the contents of a small envelope into the man’s mouth. He grabbed the cup of coffee from the table and poured enough into the man’s mouth to make him swallow. The drunk sergeant offered no resistance. Zack released the man’s head and stepped back. He walked to the door leading to the corridor and motioned for his men to gather around him.

“I am going to another tavern for a while,” Zachary said softly to his two comrades. “When he vomits, make sure it gets into the bucket. When he is done, toss half the bucket of water into his face and use the rest to clean up. One of you come get me when he is sober enough to talk. I will not be far away.”

The Alcea spymaster left the room and headed for the closest tavern that catered to soldiers. He had no success in getting anyone to talk about Alcea and decided to try yet another tavern, but Bork found him when he stepped out onto the street. The two men returned to the Journey’s Rest Inn. Zack eyed the Spinoan sergeant and found the man glaring back at him.

“I’m sure glad you are not one of my normal drinking friends,” growled the Spinoan. “What was that stuff you forced down my throat?”

“I do not drink with thieves,” Zachary shot back, “especially thieves that talk freely when they are drunk.”

The Spinoan sergeant rose to his feet, anger and fear forcing the drunkenness from his mind.

“I thought I was talking to a friend, but obviously I was wrong.” He turned and glared threateningly at Cobb as he started making his way towards the door to leave the room.

“Sit!” Zachary commanded with an authoritative tone. “If I wanted you dead, I merely had to report your little indiscretion to the paymaster. I am sure that there would have been a reward for such a deed.”

The Spinoan sergeant hesitated and glanced at the Ertakan sergeant.

“Why didn’t you report me?”

“I can make your troubles go away,” Zachary replied with slight smile. “Sit down,” he said in a softer tone.

The Spinoan sergeant stood unmoving for a moment and then returned to the couch and sat down. Zachary reached into his purse and extracted five one-thousand-gold coins and placed them on the table. The Spinoan’s eyes widened at the sight of the small fortune sitting on the table. His eyes darted around the room as if to gauge the potential for grabbing the coins and bolting out the door. With a sigh, he nodded and returned his attention to Zachary.

“Who do I have to kill?”

“I will get to that in a moment,” replied Zack. “What is your name?”

“Batt,” answered the Spinoan, “Sergeant Batt, 16^th Corps.”

“I have been told that five-thousand will save you from the hangman, is that correct?”

“That’s the truth of it,” sighed Batt, “but I don’t know about killing someone to get the gold. I am a soldier, not an assassin.”

“Well,” shrugged Zachary, “that is your choice, but I am not giving you the gold just to be friendly. If you take my money, you will do as I say, or you will die a most painful death. If you have any intention of trying to cheat me, hanging would be the much wiser path for you to take.”

“Not saying that I would even think of cheating you,” probed Sergeant Batt, “but I can’t help noticing your Ertakan patches. You can’t possibly believe that you would ever find me if I chose to hide in this city. I would only have to hide until your unit is called up for the war.”

“I won’t be going to Alcea,” smiled Zachary. “I am on special detail to the Royal Palace in Farmin. As for finding you, I would have no trouble at all. I have probably spent as much time in Valdo as you have. Besides, with enough gold, I can buy anything, including the location of your hiding spot.”

“If you had enough gold,” Batt grudgingly conceded. “You can buy anything in Valdo with gold, even friends.”

Zachary reached into his purse and placed another five one-thousand-gold coins on the table. Batt’s eyes widened at the show of wealth.

“That will be your bonus for completing the task assigned to you. It is enough money to take you wherever you want to go, but you will not receive the second pile until you have been successful.”

“Ten thousand in gold?” joked Sergeant Batt. “What do you want me to do, kill the queen?”

No one laughed at the joke, and Sergeant Batt suddenly felt a knot in the pit of his stomach. He started shaking his head vigorously.

“Forget it! I may be a thief, but I am not a raving lunatic. That would be suicide. Forget it! I might as well be hanged now and get it over with.”

“You have access to the Royal Palace,” Zack said softly. “You can do it and get away easily.”

“Easily?” balked Batt. “Are you crazy? Do you have any idea what security is like around the queen?”

“Actually,” smiled Zack, “I do know. If I had easy access to the palace, I would not be here talking to you. I would just do it myself. I can tell you how to do it, when to do it, and most importantly, how to get away with it.”

Sergeant Batt’s gaze alternated between the door and the piles of gold. The wealth on the table eventually intrigued him enough that he chose to stay.

“Tell me how I can do this and get away with it.”

Zack smiled and revealed his plan. While the Spinoan was initially skeptical, he soon started nodding in agreement to the plan. Several hours later, Sergeant Batt picked up his gold and an Ertakan military patch and left the room. Zachary took the second pile of coins and returned them to his purse.

“I don’t get it,” frowned Bork. “I can’t possibly see Batt getting away with this. Oh, you made it sound easy, but I know from earlier discussions with you that things will not go as smoothly as you laid them out. Why waste the five-thousand in gold?”

“We can’t lose on this one,” chuckled Zachary Nolan. “There are only three possible outcomes. If he succeeds, we pick up our things and move on to Ertak. If he tries and fails, Queen Samir will have him tortured only to learn that the Ertakans hired him to assassinate the queen.”

“What if he just never even tries?” asked Bork.

“Then we feed enough information to Queen Samir to have Sergeant Batt arrested and interrogated. It will produce the same effect as if he had tried and failed.”

“So the only way he gets to live is if he is successful?” asked Cobb.

“No,” Zack shook his head. “If he succeeds, we let General Vladin know who the assassin was. We want Spino blaming the assassination on Ertak. Sergeant Batt was already a dead man when you found him, Cobb. All we have done is made his death serve a purpose.”

Chapter 2

Mistaken Valor

Theos stood in the shadows in the center of the city of Ur. The firebrand mage gazed across the street at the Old Keep where King Mectin lived. Because the king never left the confines of his stronghold, the Tyronian patriots were going to have to find a way to get inside when the time came for the rebellion. Storming the Old Keep could easily result in thousands of patriot deaths, so Theos was searching for an easier way. Infiltrating the enemy ranks had been ruled out as access to the fortress was tightly controlled. Only the most loyal followers of the young king were allowed entry.

When Theos had first arrived back in Ur, after being dismissed by Fakir Aziz, he would have boasted of his magical abilities and how he could easily breech the walls of the old fortress, but spending time with Karl Gree had changed him. The fiery, untamed temper that burned within Theos was now kept under control, most of the time. It was a constant struggle for the mage, but he knew that the stakes were high. As he had promised the Knight of Alcea, Theos tried to alter the plan each day to save one additional patriot life. As the days flew past, that task became harder and harder.

Today, Theos was looking for some flaw in the keep’s design that could be exploited. Perhaps he would find a secret exit designed to allow the monarch to flee under siege, or maybe a weakness in the methods the keep’s commander used to rotate his guards.

Theos had already circled the keep three times since dawn, and he had found nothing. To continue to linger in sight of the keep would only draw unwanted attention to himself, so the mage decided to take a break and walk around the city for a while. Perhaps getting his mind off of the keep for a few minutes would clear his head.

Theos sighed as he turned and walked away from the keep. His task would be so much easier if he could just get inside and look around. He had discussed this with Karl and Captain Marez, the leader of the Tyronian Patriots, but it had been ruled out as unworkable. Anyone who managed to get inside the Old Keep would surely die before coming out again and describing the layout of the fortress. Theos had suggested sending a fairy in to spy, but Karl had rejected that as well. In addition to the magical black-cloaks quartered inside the Old Keep, K’san, a demonkin, also lived inside. If a fairy were to get caught spying, more would be lost than the life of one fairy. If the Federation learned of the Alceans’ use of fairies, the little people would not be able to accomplish a tiny fraction of what they were doing. The existence of the fairies was one of the biggest secrets in the Alcean arsenal, and Karl was not about to endanger that advantage.

Theos wandered the streets of the city without a destination in mind. Time and direction had no bearing on the mage as his mind was locked in concentration on the vision of the Old Keep. Had the shouting not been so loud, Theos would never have been alerted to the commotion. The mage blinked and instinctively stepped into the shadows of a nearby alley. Less than a block away, two Federation soldiers had seized a civilian, and the citizens howled in protest. A large crowd started to form as citizens flowed towards the commotion. A whistle blew loudly and soon the sounds of approaching soldiers echoed off the walls of the alley. Theos felt his anger building as a squad of Federation soldiers raced by the alley, but he concentrated on holding his temper in check. It was difficult for the hotheaded mage as these were his people and he had taken a vow to eradicate the Federation and its soldiers.

The crowd shouted loudly as the soldiers formed a cordon around the captive and the two soldiers who had arrested him. Theos pulled his hood over his fiery red hair and eased out of the alley.  It was not his intention to interfere, even though the sight of the brutal soldiers taking one of the citizens would have normally set him off, but his mind had been wrenched from its focus on the Old Keep, and he was curious about the commotion. By the time he reached the crowd, the citizens had quieted down, fearful of the soldiers taking their wrath out on the bystanders. Theos sighed in sympathy and was prepared to circle around the crowd and be on his way. That was when he heard the word patriot mentioned by one of the arresting soldiers. Normally the Federation called them rebels, not patriots. For the soldiers to use the word patriot indicated that the captive was a high-ranking officer in the rebel organization. Theos halted and turned to stare at the captive, who was facing away from him.

“Are you sure he is a patriot?” asked the sergeant of the squad of soldiers.

“We are positive,” replied one of the arresting soldiers.

“We will get him into the Old Keep immediately,” declared the sergeant. “King Mectin will be pleased.”

“The king will most certainly be pleased,” retorted one of the arresting soldiers, “which is why my partner and I will be taking him in. We did what was necessary to capture him. No one else is going to take the credit.”

The sergeant glared at the arresting soldiers for a moment before shaking his head. “Neither of you are authorized to enter the Old Keep. I will take the prisoner, but you can be assured that both of you will get credit for his capture.”

“You just run ahead and tell King Mectin that we are bringing a patriot in,” countered one of the arresting soldiers. If he doesn’t trust us inside the Old Keep, he can just come out and fetch the prisoner himself. We are not turning him over to anyone but the king. This patriot probably knows the entire rebel organization. His capture is worth a great deal, and we mean to enjoy the benefits of his capture.”

“I will have you working as sentries in the Barrier for this,” spat the sergeant.

One of the arresting soldiers laughed. “Sergeant, I will outrank you before the sun sets. You won’t be assigning me anywhere. If I were you, I would be careful about giving me such ideas.”

The sergeant growled in defeat and turned to one of his subordinates. He sent the subordinate to the Old Keep to announce that his squad was bringing in a patriot. As soon as the chosen man was dispatched, the sergeant ordered his men to escort the two arresting soldiers and their captive. While the arresting soldiers would get the credit for the arrest, the sergeant planned to be included when the rewards were handed out.

As the arresting soldiers led the prisoner away, Theos finally got to see the prisoner’s face. He knew the man to be a close confident of Captain Marez. A shiver raced up the mage’s back as he thought about the implications of Artum’s arrest. Artum certainly could lay out the entire patriot organization for King Mectin, and Theos knew that the prisoner would eventually talk, no matter how loyal he was. K’san had the ability to reach into people’s minds and simply take what he wanted. Theos could not let that happen, but neither could he openly intervene. It was just that sort of intervention that he had been fighting against inside of him since he first arrived in Ur. If he did anything to stop the arrest, he would never get the chance to join in the rebellion, and the patriots would need his magical skills to succeed. Numbed with indecision, the mage cautiously followed the procession of soldiers towards the Old Keep.

The mage’s wanderings had taken him almost to the city gates, and the trip back to the center of the city was slow. At each intersection, Theos looked around for any patriot that he could find. He desperately wanted to get word to Captain Marez, Karl, or Althea, but he saw no one that he could trust. The closer they got to the city center, the more agitated Theos became. By the time the Old Keep came into view, Theos was agitated beyond measure. If he was to make a decision, the time had arrived. In the end, he found the decision to be remarkably simple.

As the group of soldiers leading the prisoner started up the walk towards the gates of the Old Keep, Theos halted and brought both arms up before him. Sheets of fire leapt from his fingertips, and he directed the twin attacks to the soldiers flanking the prisoner.

“Run to me, Artum!” Theos shouted. “Run to me!”

The flames immediately engulfed the two arresting soldiers, and Theos slowly spread his arms apart, moving the walls of flame away from Artum. This tactic forced the squad of soldiers to move away from the prisoner and the burning corpses of his captors, leaving Artum a clear path of retreat to Theos. Artum was momentarily dazed by the unexpected attack, and he looked around in wonder. When he finally realized what was happening, Artum started running towards Theos, but he never made it to safety. An archer on the walls of the keep let his arrow fly, and the shaft sunk deep into Artum’s back. In a fit of rage, Theos swept his arms apart, engulfing the entire escorting squad in flames.

Horns blared from the towers of the Old Keep, and soldiers rushed out through the gates to attack the mage. Theos knew that his acts had broken his promise to Karl, and he knew that meant that he would not be involved in the rebellion of his homeland. That knowledge brought with it a level of rage that Theos had never felt before. Instead of retreating and running for his life, Theos stood his ground. He pointed his arms towards the soldiers pouring out of the Old Keep, and fire once more flared from his fingertips. Sheets of flame soared towards the keep and the charge halted. The soldiers scrambled to get out of the way, but few were fortunate enough to escape the onslaught. The stench of searing flesh and burning leather filled the air, and a cloud of smoke rose eerily skyward.

Unexpectedly, a powerful magical projectile flew past the mage’s head so close that it ripped the hood off of his head, exposing his fiery hair for all to see. Theos instinctively erected a magical shield of defense and gazed through the smoky air towards the keep. In a crenel on the wall stood a black-cloak, and his face was masked with anger at having missed his target. Theos smirked as he raised one arm and let loose a spell of power. He knew that the black-cloak would have already erected his own magical shield, but Theos knew how to play this game. A powerful invisible force slammed into the wall just to one side of the black-cloak. A bystander might have scored the blast as a near miss, but it hit exactly where Theos had aimed it. The blast slammed into the stone wall with a force so powerful that it smashed a portion of the wall into small chunks of rock. Those small chunks of stone flew outward with the force of an explosion. While the black-cloak did indeed have a magical shield surrounding him, he had not planned on a physical attack. That failure cost the black-cloak his life as hundreds of chunks of stone tore into his body.

The firebrand’s own shields were suddenly peppered with all sorts of magical projectiles. Theos scanned the ramparts again and located seven black-cloaks, well spaced out. His eyes also detected fresh troops rushing out of the keep to physically attack him. Knowing his magical shields were strong enough to weather the onslaught for a few minutes, he turned his attention to the rushing soldiers. He sent sheets of flame at the soldiers, but they had been instructed to use their shields to deflect the flames. While some of the soldiers fell, not all of them did. Theos quickly corrected his tactics and sent a small burst of invisible power towards the advancing troops. The bolts of energy smashed into the columns of soldiers, sending the head man of each column flying backwards with enough force to topple the entire column. Theos immediately returned to sending sheets of fire at the enemy. With the soldiers’ bodies crumbled in heaps, the shields were no longer effective in stopping the flames from reaching their targets. Screams and howls of agony split the air as the soldiers burned to death. As Theos returned his attention to the black-cloaks on the ramparts, a tiny weight landed on his shoulder.

“Karl demands that you retreat immediately,” Thimble said with a sense of urgency. “There are soldiers responding to the horns from every sector of the city. You have only moments before they are upon you. Flee now.”

“I might as well finish what I started,” scowled Theos. “I am no longer useful to the patriots, but I can save quite a few of them by diminishing the ranks of those they will have to fight later.”

“It was not a request,” retorted the fairy. “Karl is not willing to trade your life for a handful of soldiers. Retreat now!”

“And go where?” argued the raging mage. “They will hunt me down and that will imperil every single patriot.”

“Retreat to the estate,” answered Thimble. “Karl will take care of it from there. Do not delay! You have no time to think about this. Do as you are told.”

Theos sighed wearily as the projectiles continued to smash into his magical shield. He knew that the shields would fail him soon, and the thought of hundreds of soldiers closing in on him shook the rage out of him. He realized that his capture could do as much damage as the capture of Artum, and he vowed not to be taken alive, but he would try to comply with Karl’s directive. With another sigh of defeat, the mage halted his offensive spells. He quickly issued an incantation and a cloud of fog started appearing at his feet. The cloud grew rapidly and within seconds he was unable to see the Old Keep. The shouts of soldiers rang out from every direction, and Theos knew that he had waited too long to retreat. Within seconds, he would be surrounded.

“Drop your shields,” urged the fairy.

“What?” barked the mage.

“Drop your shields,” repeated Thimble, “and keep the fog pouring out.”

Theos shook his head in confusion, but he did as the fairy requested. As soon as the shields were down, he felt his feet leave the ground. Seconds later he heard the impact of two groups of soldiers colliding into each other in the thick fog below him. He listened to their shouted questions, but the sounds diminished as the fairy levitated him higher. In moments, he was standing on the roof of a building.

“Can you fly” chirped the fairy. “Or should I summon Karl’s unicorn for you?”

“I can fly if I transform into a bird,” answered Theos, “but the black-cloaks will probably detect that.”

“They are expecting you to fly away?” questioned the little green man.

“I would if I were in their place,” reasoned Theos. “After abruptly ending my attack, they would assume that I am attempting to flee.”

“Would they still monitor for flying spells if they could see you?” asked the fairy.

“That would be a waste of energy.” Theos shook his head. “But I cannot afford to fly away if they are staring at me. I would be followed and destroyed.”

“Unless what they were staring at was not really you,” grinned Thimble. “You forget that I can cast images of my memories.”

“You would be attacked instantly,” frowned Theos. “I will not risk your life for my foolish actions.”

“I will not be harmed,” boasted the fairy. “I will keep your image just out of range, and I will move it quickly. If your flight is swift, we will both be at Sidney’s estate in moments.”

The mage held a doubtful expression on his face, but the fairy grinned boldly with an aura of confidence that swayed the mage’s decision.

“How long do you need to get outside the fog and set up the illusion?” asked Theos.

“Count to one hundred and then fly like a bird. I will meet you at the estate.”

The fairy leaped into the air, and Theos began counting. An eerie silence had fallen over the central part of the city, a silence broken only occasionally as a soldier’s armor clanged against some unseen obstacle. Before Theos reached one hundred, shouts erupted from the direction of the Old Keep. He clearly heard shouts of his sighting. Still, he waited a few more seconds before casting the spell that would transform him into a bird. Once he was committed to his avian form, Theos flew as fast as he was able. He soared upward through the cloud of fog and angled towards the Gulf of Ur. He did not want to lead them to the merchant’s estate if someone was tracking him. Once he was over the gulf, he dove towards the surface of the water and skimmed over the waves. When he felt he was far enough away from the city, he banked sharply to his right and headed for the coast north of the city. As soon as he was over land, he landed and transformed back into a man. He would have a decent walk ahead of him, but it was worth it to shorten his flight. Plus, if he had been tracked, his landing would take the followers away from Sidney’s estate rather than towards it. He definitely did not want to bring attention to that place. He had already caused too much of a ruckus for the patriots.

The walk to Sidney’s estate was uneventful, but Theos walked slowly and cautiously, always prepared for an ambush. By the time he reached the estate, dusk was upon him. Karl Gree, Captain Marez, and Althea were waiting on the porch for him. None of them spoke until they were all safely inside. Althea sent one of the patriots to cancel the search that had been initiated to find him.

“What took you so long?” asked Karl. “Thimble expected you to be here when he arrived. We thought we had lost you.”

“I flew north in case the black-cloaks were tracking me,” explained the mage. “I didn’t want to lead them here.”

Karl nodded understandingly, but Captain Marez glared at the mage.

“Do you have any idea what you have done today?” snapped the leader of the Tyronian Patriots. “You cost us three good men and stirred up a hornets nest that will keep us hiding for weeks. Mectin will have his men combing the entire city until he finds you.”

“I am truly sorry,” frowned Theos. “I knew that I should not get involved, but once I saw Artum being dragged into the Old Keep, I could not ignore it. His knowledge of the patriots would bring about many deaths of my countrymen. I am sorry, but I would do it again. My only disappointment was that Artum died in my attempt to free him. An archer shot him in the back as he was fleeing.”

“Your only disappointment?” huffed the captain. “You must learn to follow orders and nothing else. Were it not for you, Artum would be alive and well right now.”

A mask of deep sorrow fell over the mage’s face, but the mask was creased with confusion. “King Mectin would not allow Artum to live after he had the demonkin strip his mind. What you are saying makes no sense. And what did you mean by the loss of three men? Artum was the only one they had captured.”

“The two soldiers escorting Artum were our people,” Althea said softly. “Their task was to gain entrance to the Old Keep by dragging in a top-level patriot. Artum volunteered to be the captive. He held barrel weed in his shackled hands.”

A look of shock and pain fell over the mage’s face, and he slumped into the nearest chair and placed his head in his hands. “This is why you asked me for the barrel weed?” he asked with a broken voice. “They were to think he was dead? How would you ever get the body out to feed him the pit berries? Without the pit berries, he would truly die.”

“It was all worked out,” Althea explained. “The two soldiers would take Artum directly to a cell and then report to the king. From what we have been able to learn about the inside of the Old Keep, the cells are in the lowest level, while King Mectin is in one of the highest. The soldiers being unfamiliar with the layout of the keep would naturally get a little lost on the way to reporting to the king. They would eventually be promised their reward and be sent back to bring the prisoner before the king.”

“When it was discovered that the prisoner had died,” added Captain Marez, “the soldiers were to carry the corpse out for burial rather than take him to the king. It was the only feasible way to get Artum out of the keep once we got him inside.”

“Artum would then be fed the pit berries,” interjected Karl, “and the three men would be sent away from the city until after the rebellion.”

“Then I have caused more damage than I could have possibly imagined,” sighed the mage. “I curse this gift of mine. Why couldn’t you have just left me in the battle today? Why couldn’t you have let me die ignorant of my stupidity?”

“It is neither your gift nor your stupidity that is causing the problem,” scowled Captain Marez. “It is your anger. I thought you were making progress with that, but it is over now. We cannot afford to have you around here. If you had kept your head covered, we might have been able to hide you until things died down, but there are precious few mages with fiery hair in these parts. They know who you are, Theos. You have to go.”

“I agree that Theos must leave Tyronia,” Karl frowned, “but you are not being fair to him. What he did today had nothing to do with his rage. Had it been his rage, the confrontation would have taken place far from the city center. Theos made a conscious decision to save Artum from interrogation, and based on similar knowledge to what he had at the time, I would like to think that I would have reacted the same. It took tremendous courage to pit himself against the entire keep, and he put his life on the line to protect the Tyronian Patriots. I think a large part of the fault for today’s fiasco rests in the three of us for not letting Theos know what we were up to. While none of us expected him to get involved, we should have considered the possibility of him stumbling into our little act.”

Althea nodded. “Not rage, but mistaken valor. I agree with Karl. I certainly wish Theos had not gotten involved, but he was brave to do so. The question now is where do we send him? To Waxhaw? Calusa?”

“No,” Captain Marez shook his head. “While he is making great progress on his anger, I think it would be a mistake to place him in another country where the local patriots wear the uniform of the Federation. It is just asking for trouble.”

“That only leaves the horse countries,” frowned Althea. “There are no Federation troops there at all.”

“I will not go into exile and sit out this war,” scowled Theos. “You do not need to take it upon yourselves to plan my future. I started my plan for revenge alone, and I will return to that. Like it or not, I plan to take a lot of Federation soldiers with me on the way to my grave.”

“Leave us,” Karl said softly to Captain Marez and Althea.

Captain Marez looked Karl in the eye and nodded without argument, but Althea donned a hurt expression. Karl stared back with a steady resolve. Althea eventually smiled weakly and followed her brother out of the room.

“If you are going to try talking me out of attacking the Federation,” Theos said when he was alone with Karl, “save your breath. You may be able to teach me how to control my anger, but you cannot make the cause of that anger disappear entirely. I will have my revenge on the Federation for their attacks upon innocent people.”

Karl smiled. “From what I have heard, you got a fair start along that road today. At least one black-cloak is dead and over one hundred of King Mectin’s guard, and you walked away without a scratch. All-in-all, I would consider that impressive.”

“Don’t forget three patriots,” scowled Theos. “I certainly will never forget them.”

“Only two,” countered Karl. “You did not kill Artum, and he knew that he was risking his life for this mission. Theos, do not hold those deaths heavy in your heart. You had no way of knowing what we were doing. You should have been informed. The fault lies with us.”

“A trivial distinction,” sighed the mage. “You didn’t ask the others to leave so that we can commiserate on my failure. If you are planning on trying to get me to give up my path, save us both the time and effort. My mind is made up.”

“Actually,” smiled Karl, “I have something in mind for you. How would you like to be somewhere where everyone wearing a Federation uniform is truly your enemy?”

“You mean like inside a Federation prison?” chuckled Theos.

“No.” Karl shook his head. “I am thinking of Alcea.”

“Your homeland?” balked the mage. “What would I do there?”

“What you do best,” grinned the Knight of Alcea. “Think of it as the two of us changing places for a while. I will work with your people, and you will work with mine. There will soon be sixty thousand Federation soldiers converging on Tagaret, and the Royal Sorcerer was recently killed by a demonkin. King Arik could use your magical talents, and you will have far more targets in one place than anywhere in Zara.”

“And your king would agree to this? Does he know of my struggle?”

“You are doing quite well with that,” Karl smiled, “but I would never speak for King Arik without his authorization. I spoke to him while we were waiting for you to return here. If you find this task acceptable, they are already waiting for your arrival.”

“They?”

“King Arik and Queen Tanya. I think you will like them both.”

“I already have sixty thousand reasons for liking them,” smiled Theos. “I accept.”