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  Gormer turned to see a tall, lanky woman. The left side of her head had been shaved completely bald, and her scalp tattooed with an intricate design of swirls and triangles. A long braid of black hair extended from the right side and draped over her left shoulder. Leather straps across her chest held several throwing knives and at least a dozen crossbow bolts for the weapon hanging from her shoulder.

  Gormer noticed the crossbow was loaded and ready to go. He swallowed hard and tried to ignore the tingling in his nether regions.

  “Daku, my lovely timber viper, how are you, my dear?” Mortsen said, stepping forward. “You are just the person we came to see.”

  Two more women with shaved heads and similar tattoos stepped out of a nearby alley and flanked Daku. Three men lined up behind them. Gormer thought the men looked like mercs, but he didn’t know what to make of the women.

  “And you brought your sisters. My friend Chago here might—”

  Her motion was so quick, Gormer didn’t realize the knife was in the air until it sliced open Mortsen’s cheek. A man behind him yelped when the blade planted itself in a lamp post as he passed.

  One of the men behind Daku trotted over to retrieve the knife in response to a flick of her finger.

  Mortsen chuckled and wiped the blood from his cheek. “Why are you so angry with me, Daku?”

  She marched up to him, and Gormer took two wise steps backward. Daku planted a hard slap across Mortsen’s cut cheek.

  “That’s for not coming back when you said you would.” She grabbed his face with both hands and pulled his head down into her savage lips. Mortsen wrapped his arms around her as they kissed deeply.

  She finally let him go and stepped back with his blood smeared across her face. “And that’s for coming back now.”

  For good measure, she punched him hard in the chest. He didn’t flinch but displayed more of his gold teeth than Gormer had ever seen.

  “Chago, meet Daku. Her sisters are Shell and Camille.” Mortsen pointed to the two shorter women behind Daku who studied Gormer’s disguised form with hard, unwavering eyes.

  “I’ve never seen this one before,” Camille said. She wore a short sword on her right hip, meaning she was left-handed. “Not sure I like the looks of him.”

  “I think he looks just fine,” Shell said with a devious grin that gave Gormer a prickly feeling up and down his spine. He couldn’t help but smile.

  He wondered if his illusion might hold up during…

  Mortsen clapped Gormer on the shoulder as his mind began to wander. “My colleague here wants to hire some talent. His boss has some very specific requirements.”

  “Does your client speak?” Daku wondered, hooking her thumbs into her wide leather belt.

  “I speak for my boss,” Gormer replied. “And only for my boss.”

  “And who is this mysterious boss of yours?” Daku asked, stepping close enough for Gormer to smell the spice of her breath.

  “A very wealthy and important man from the Lungu Protectorate,” Gormer supplied. He put stress on the name “Lungu.”

  Daku laughed. “I take it you and your boss aren’t happy with the new leadership in the Protectorate?”

  The fact Daku didn’t use Lungu’s name told Gormer she wasn’t exactly a fan of the old leadership. Since Astrid killed Lungu and took over the Protectorate, political preference was expressed in the way people referred to the state. The name hadn't been changed officially, but it had in the minds of the people who lived in and around it.

  “That’s not what I’m here for.” Gormer hated himself for it, but he made himself give a cold glance at Shell, then rolled his eyes away dismissively.

  “Well,” Daku said, stepping past Mortsen. “Follow me. We’ll talk about this over drinks.”

  They walked with Daku’s group toward a one-story building that was reclaimed from the world of the New Ancients. Gormer had seen construction like this before. The back half consisted of gray blocks that were rectangular to a nearly perfect degree. The front half was a combination of rough clay bricks and rough-cut timber.

  Gormer always found it strange that the buildings from centuries before showed more refinement than modern construction.

  Daku pushed open the tavern door and stepped inside.

  Chapter Nine

  Outside Kostree

  Astrid found a tree with a moss-covered trunk and leaned against it. The spot gave her a perfect vantage point to observe Gormer and Mortsen as they walked down the road into town. She and Jiri were a few hundred yards away from the nearest building. They took turns using a spyglass—a product of Vinnie’s workshop.

  “This device is quite amazing,” Jiri exclaimed as he put the glass to one eye. He adjusted the focus by extending the larger end of the two-piece cylinder. “I can see every detail of the people walking by.”

  “And Vinnie says that’s a crude, early design,” Astrid replied. She had her eyes on another tree—a tall fir.

  Jiri collapsed the spyglass and handed it back to Astrid. She slipped it into a leather holder on the belt that was a new addition to her matte-black armor.

  “I was thinking about climbing up that fir tree there. It’s tall enough to…” Astrid broke her sentence and glanced back into the woods. She continued, “See most of the town.”

  Jiri followed her glance as Astrid paced. “Something wrong?”

  “Oh nothing,” she replied. “Just lost my train of thought.”

  She walked over and slowly circled the fir’s trunk. Jiri watched from a distance.

  “What do you think is the best way to get started on the climb,” Astrid asked, waving him over.

  He approached with hesitation looking up the sheer trunk with no branches for the first fifty feet of its height.

  “Ah...” Jiri began. He scratched his cheek and craned his neck to find the treetop.

  “If only I had...claws!” Astrid drew from the Well, and her eyes turned black.

  Jiri drew his sword and activated his own magic that made the steel glow red hot. His opposite hand bristled with flame.

  In a flash, Astrid covered ten feet in a single leap and landed at the gnarled roots of a smaller pine. “Got you!” she shouted.

  Moxy shimmered into view next to the pine. Her form gelled from the bark of the tree she stood against.

  “You’re getting better!” the pixie exclaimed. She wore only two leather pouches from a string around her waist and a blowpipe across her back.

  Jiri cursed and released his magic. He held his sword to the side to let it cool and cursed mightily.

  “We’re supposed to be on watch!” he exclaimed. “That means silence.”

  Astrid smiled; her first genuine smile of the day. She was happy he was finally real with her. Before then, he’d acted hyper-polite and deferential like men were when they found her attractive and wanted more.

  “Sorry, Jiri,” Astrid offered. She clapped him on the shoulder. “This one has been sneaking up on me since we met. I thought I’d share the experience.”

  Jiri shook his head and slipped the still-smoking sword back into its insulated scabbard. “I suppose your cousin is here somewhere.”

  “He’s back at the camp with Vinnie and your squire.”

  “Mortsen told me your people were nocturnal. Weren’t you two out all night?” Astrid wondered.

  “It’s true,” Moxy agreed. She lifted her face and sniffed, then bent low to follow a scent. “But I had a nice nap with my husband.” Jiri and Astrid followed the pixie as she walked toward a rotten log. “And there are plenty of things in the forest to keep me awake and alert.”

  Moxy bent down and plucked a pale-hooded mushroom with a purple hue to its stem. She popped it into her mouth and chewed slowly with her eyes closed.

  “That’s...it’s…” Jiri stammered, “the most lethal mushroom in the forest!”

  “Maybe to you,” Moxy conceded. She opened her eyes wide, and her pupils nearly consumed her eye sockets. “We call this Shaman’
s Shroud. My people use it for spiritual ceremonies. I use it to stay awake during the day so I can be with my box-dweller friends.”

  Her pupils returned to normal, but her pale cheeks flushed. She gave a full-body shiver and sighed.

  “Box dwellers?” Jiri asked. Now he knew Moxy hadn’t committed suicide, he was curious about the pixie.

  “Sorry, my people call you that because you live in big boxes made out of dead wood and carved stone.”

  “Sometimes we use bricks of clay,” Jiri added with an amused grin.

  “A box is a box.” Moxy shrugged her shoulders in reply.

  Astrid removed the sight glass from her belt and tossed it to Moxy. “Since you’re all bright-eyed, why don’t you scale the tallest tree you can find and look over the town with this. Tell me what you see.”

  Moxy wasted no time. She extended claws from her hands and feet just enough to dig into her chosen tree and up she went. They lost sight of her in less than a minute.

  “She is an amazing being,” Jiri remarked with a smile. They were back at the edge of the forest that formed an even circle around Kostree.

  “I wonder how they’re doing,” Astrid thought aloud. She took her seat at the mossy tree again.

  A Tavern Like All the Rest

  With a nod of her head, Daku told the three men with her to stay outside the tavern. Two flanked the door while the other leaned against a pole that held up the covered porch’s roof.

  The double doors swung closed behind Daku. The hinge springs groaned in complaint and puffed out little red clouds of rust as Gormer followed suit.

  “Someone needs to oil those hinges,” Mortsen remarked casually as he pushed through into the tavern.

  The yeasty bouquet of spilled ale attended the atmosphere just like Gormer expected from any tavern. Missing was the smell of vomit and blood stains on the furniture. This suggested the clientele was more civilized here than in most places, or the proprietor set high standards of conduct.

  Either way, the tavern was far more respectable than the dives where Gormer had done most of his business in his former trade.

  “We’ll get right on that,” a sarcastic voice rumbled from a table by the door.

  “What are you doing playing cards? Shouldn’t you be tending bar?” Mortsen asked a short, stocky man at the table.

  Gormer tried not to look startled when he realized the other four players were all former first lieutenants. The magic users looked out of place in a tavern. They hadn’t bothered to remove the Estate crests from their chest plates, but none of them wore any rank or station insignia.

  But Gormer guessed the largest one, with his long, artfully-groomed, sandy-brown hair flowing to his shoulder blades must have been the leader.

  “These new Kostree citizens have money, and I’m here to win it at cards,” the man declared. “Alvin can pour ale like anyone else.”

  The former Protectorate officers were all well-armed with short swords and daggers. That was in addition to their telekinetic abilities, which allowed them to strike hard enough to break bones. Gormer grew increasingly nervous as Daku led them into a back corner near the kitchen door.

  “The place has changed since I was here last,” Mortsen said as he lowered his bulky frame into a chair.

  “Yes,” Daku agreed. Her sisters flanked her. Gormer noticed they all sat about two feet from the table. Daku kept her loaded and cocked crossbow loose on her shoulder. “There are a lot of refugees in town. Some say they’ve taken it over.”

  Daku didn’t bother to lower her voice, but she didn’t raise it, either. If the card-playing Movers had overheard her, they didn’t let on.

  Oh, shit, Gormer thought. This is going to be bad.

  He hoped the first lieutenants were too drunk or too transfixed by their game to notice the presence of her crossbow in its ready condition. The bartenders certainly didn’t seem to mind. Gormer was sure they had noticed. That was part of a barkeep’s job, after all.

  “Well, that’s a damn shame,” Mortsen commented, “It used to be such a nice pleasant place of high culture, good manners, and refined palates.”

  Diffusing the situation with humor didn’t work. Daku and her sisters stared intently at the players.

  Mortsen saw where things were headed and leaned across the table, directly into Daku’s line of fire.

  “You asked me in here to help you take these guys out,” he whispered sharply. “You’re an assassin. Why not just slit their throats at night?”

  “Public support,” Daku murmured. “It has to look like they started it.”

  “Nothing says ‘bar fight’ like a crossbow bolt to the chest,” Gormer couldn’t help but quip.

  Daku’s look in his direction was a crossbow bolt in its own right. She issued a low, feline growl.

  “Get out of the way,” Daku snarled, turning her stabbing eyes back to Mortsen.

  “Don’t expect me to—”

  CRACK

  The noise from outside was loud enough to make Gormer’s ears ring.

  The ground rumbled, and the building shook. Dust rained down from the rafters and danced on the tables as the ground continued to quake.

  Everyone shot to their feet. Daku leveled her crossbow at the Movers, who faced her and her sisters, ready to let loose magic attacks. Only they didn’t. Everyone was too shocked at the sudden realization that the violence was taking place outside.

  The double doors crashed open, and one of the mercs Daku had left outside stumbled in with a gaping wound in his right shoulder.

  “Remnant!” he screamed and collapsed.

  To Gormer’s surprise, one of the Movers jumped forward, but not to fight. He turned the wounded merc over and stuffed a rag into the seeping wound.

  When bar’s patrons did fight, it was to determine who could get out the door and into the street fastest. Gormer found the village flooded with red-eyed remnant. A portal shimmered at the end of the street like hell’s own gash.

  One of the Movers blasted a remnant with a telekinetic strike to keep him away from one of Daku’s sisters. Gormer noticed the Movers that Daku and her sisters intended to kill had become allies of convenience. The remaining two mercs fought back-to-back against four remnant who were about to overtake them.

  Gormer took in all the chaos through wide, burning eyes. He saw the red tendrils of energy reach out from the shelled creatures attached to the necks of the remnant. He was losing control again but fought against it with sheer willpower and spite.

  Not this time, pigfucker. Whoever you are...

  One of the tendrils reached out for him. He drew his favorite dagger from his sleeve and slashed at it. The blade passed right through.

  “Ha!” Daku shouted. She had turned in time to see Gormer release the illusion and return to his normal form.

  “You’re Gormer!” she shouted. “I’ve heard of you.”

  “I’m flattered,” Gormer shouted back as a searing pain burned in his head. More tendrils reached for him.

  Though he knew it would do no good, he slashed at the appendages nobody else could see.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Daku asked. She used her daggers to slice open a remnant who tried to chop down Gormer with an ax.

  “I’m seeing things,” Gormer barked. Weird time for honesty, he thought. He managed to fend off another remnant, but where one fell, another took its place. They streamed through the portal. More than a hundred rampaged through town.

  Even without touching him, he felt the tendrils attempt to draw his mind away and with it, reality.

  “Mortsen!” Gormer bellowed as he parried a crude and pitted remnant sword with his daggers. He was beyond pride. He needed help.

  I’m here, kid, Mortsen’s voice rang clearly in his head like a temple bell. Focus on my voice.

  The tendrils faded. Gormer could focus again. He began to be of real use in the fight again.

  How the hell are you doing this? Gormer thought back in his mind.

 
It’s mostly you, Mortsen replied.

  Chapter Ten

  Again, With the Portal

  Astrid drew energy from the Well and bolted across the uneven ground toward Kostree. Above the skewed rooftops, black lightning crackled wildly. She couldn’t see the portal, but she knew it was there. What else could it be?

  But why Kostree? Did it know the Dregs were there? The questions spoke to a spy in their midst. Vinnie might have been right. But why not attack the Fortress again?

  She heard a lighter set of footsteps behind her that could only have belonged to Moxy. As she drew closer to the buildings, the clash of weapons and the screams of battle drowned everything else.

  Astrid rounded a corner and skidded to a stop in the broad main street. Remnant were everywhere. Kostree was a butcher shop. People lay in the street dead or dying. Running skirmishes played out between remnant and the villagers fighting to get away.

  Moxy shimmered into view beside her and took a knee. She used the opposite knee to brace her elbow and steady her blowpipe. In a series of fluid motions, the pixie let loose lethal darts every two seconds. It was enough to clear a path through the chaos.

  Whatever toxin was in the darts, it felled remnant like marionettes with cut strings.

  Astrid charged in with both ends of her rope dart spinning.

  The egg-shaped hunks of metal splintered bone and disarmed remnant. The silksteel line lassoed arms, necks, and legs to pull remnant off their feet. Astrid wasn’t trying to kill, she was just trying to take the pressure off, and it worked.

  People who fought to escape suddenly found they could stand and fight. Some took the opportunity to drag the wounded off the streets.

  Once Moxy was out of darts, she used her blowgun as a staff. Astrid had never seen her use the weapon that way before. She was nearly distracted by its effectiveness. It looked exactly like a long, straight tree branch but when metal weapons contacted it, the blowpipe cast off sparks. Remnant blades slid along its length only to be deflected by the knots. The gray bark wasn’t even disturbed.