Chapter 28: Wandering the Labyrinth


The camp around her was filled with the low murmur of soldier's voices, but Lucia saw nothing. They'd bound her to the center pole of a small tent, and blindfolded her. Even without the coarse cloth wrapped about her face, she would only be able to see the canvas of the tent's walls. Two guards stood at attention by the entrance to the tent, vigilant as field mice after the events of last night. She could not see them, and they never spoke, but the occasional cough or clearing of a throat, or shifting of a booted leg gave their presence away.

Lucia's wrists ached. During the day, the bed of a supply cart had served as her prison, rocking and heaving as the cart trundled over the rough terrain. They had traveled for hours at a slow pace, and her whole body felt sore. Despite the blindfold, she suspected the Harmonians had made camp around the expanse of Mewangi Hill. If they had advanced that far, that could only mean that Chisha had fallen. The thought of it burned at Lucia's mind like a fever.

She tried to turn her mind to other things. If she sat here, bound and helpless, and brooded over the fate of her luckless people, she feared she would go mad. Instead, she turned her attention back to working her wrists against the taut rope. She had to escape, before the Harmonians found a way to use her against her own people. The rope chafed against her skin as she nudged her hands back and forth, trying to loosen her bonds. Whoever had tied her in place had done a right good job of it. She cursed his mother for spawning the wretch.

The tent flap rustled with movement. Lucia froze up. Someone had stepped inside. Armor clinked as the guards moved, perhaps to salute, but no words were exchanged. Not a superior then. Who?

The newcomer's boots crunched the grass underfoot as he slowly made his way around the tent's circumference. When he spoke, his voice, calm and friendly, came from right in front of to her face.

"Are you feeling cooperative, yet?" the man asked.

"Traitor," Lucia spat.

Nash grunted. "I prefer 'spy'. A traitor would have let your son and his lady knight friend poke my master full of holes. Don't you think?"

Lucia forced a laugh. "You're a liar and a blackguard," she said, "from the first moment. How many lies have you told, how long have you sat turning your words over, hatching your little scheme? How long did you stalk my son, feeding him lies, before you wormed your way into his confidence?"

She could almost feel Nash stiffen. "I'll remove the blindfold. If you promise to behave."

"Leave it on," she said glumly. "Your face disgusts me."

Nash hesitated for a moment before reaching in to lift the cloth from her eyes.

Even the shadowy light of the tent hurt Lucia's eyes. She squinted against the sudden brightness, her vision blurry and unfocused. Slowly her sight returned to her, and the blond man's face came into focus. Nash squatted in front of her, hands resting on his knees. He was uncomfortably close, like a courting lover. So close she could almost touch his nose. She thought about snapping her teeth at it. If she got lucky, she might bite the damned thing off. At least it would wipe that infuriating smile off his traitorous face. But no. Nash could very well be her only hope of escaping the Harmonian camp. If the weasel had a soft eye towards her buttocks, then all the better. Lust could scramble men's brains, perhaps even a man like Nash. Lucia did not have Rina's fluttering eyelashes or cavalier attitude towards keeping her skirts on, but she had found that men often lost their minds even without the slightest bit of encouragement. Sometimes, the lack of encouragement only egged them on.

"If I promise to behave," she said, "will you untie my hands?"

A genuine smile played on Nash's lips. "After seeing what you did to those soldiers in the woods, I think not."

Lucia rolled her shoulders. "It was worth a try. My wrists hurt." She softened her look, allowed the barest hint of a smile to make the man think she was grateful for the removal of the blindfold. "I must admit, spy, you're good. Why did you come to Chisha? Was this your plan from the start?"

Nash seemed at war with himself, trying to decide how much to tell her. "My plan? I was playing it by ear. That's what works for me. This isn't how I thought it would play out, but I couldn't let you harm the Bishop. I knew you'd eventually try to kill him, regardless of what I did. So I nudged things in my favor. Made sure I was in the loop." He shrugged. "I must admit, Hugo and Chris got closer than we'd thought possible. The Bishop was impressed."

Thoughts of Hugo cut like a dagger. Spirits, she hoped he was safe. "He gets it from his mother," she said.

Nash lounged on the grass, grinning. "I'm sure. Well, I misjudged things. If they'd held back, played it cool, we could have retreated through the woods and made it back to Chisha safe and sound. But then some overzealous Harmonian captain seeking a promotion sent his troops in to capture you. And once you started flashing that whip, well…" Nash smoothed back his hair. "You forced my hand. And with you captured… Well. I couldn't very well return to Chisha alone, could I?"

Lucia smirked. "You'd be the main ingredient in saraak stew, if you had."

Nash inclined his head. "Thanks for confirming my deeply held suspicions."

"You came for the True Fire Rune," Lucia said. A guess, but a good one. When she saw the look in Nash's eyes in reaction to her words, she knew she'd hit home. Not too hard to imagine - if he was Bishop Sasarai's creature, then their goals would align.

"I'd have preferred to remain in Chisha," he admitted, "Until I learned the location of the True Rune."

Lucia shook her head. "You'll never find it."

Nash sighed. He pushed to his feet, then leaned in close, until she could feel his breath on her cheek. A predatory gleam crossed his eye. "Unless you tell me."

Lucia refused to be made uncomfortable by the man's invasion of her space. She raised her nose at him, looked him square in the eye. "And why would I do that?"

"To spare your people, damn it." He clenched his fist. "I can help you, Lucia. I know you care. Deeply. Give me the damn rune, and the Grasslanders don't have to travel down the road to slavery. Believe me, you don't want that."

Lucia snorted. "Why should the bishop spare us, now that the war is all but won?"

Nash stood up straight, towering over her. She had to tilt her head all the way back and roll her eyes up in their sockets to match his gaze. "Give Bishop Sasarai an opportunity to return home in triumph with the True Rune. Come with us to Crystal Valley, bow your pretty head against the marble tiles to the Absolute One, may he be eternal. Do that, and he will be merciful. He will spare your people."

Lucia managed a faint smile. She would gladly give herself up for Karaya, for the Grasslands. If the offer were genuine. "Why should I trust you?" she said.

Nash sighed. "You're so far out of your element. What Holy Harmonia wishes, she gets. What the Absolute One, may he be eternal, sets his sights on, happens. It's that simple. Holy Harmonia wants the True Fire Rune back. The Bishop gave you many chances to avoid this fate. Now I give you another one. The last you'll ever get.

"You sent your son to kill the Bishop. A true rune wielder. Let's assume the attempt had been successful. What happens to a true rune when its bearer dies? It passes to someone else. Someone nearby. Your son, or his lady knight, would have been the successor to the True Earth Rune. Did you even consider that?"

Lucia felt cold. She could not find the words to answer. They had not considered this. And the implication was clear. She had hoped to deflect the Harmonian invasion by killing its general. If Hugo's blade had struck through, if Bishop Sasarai had not been forewarned, then Hugo himself would now bear the True Earth Rune. The expedition which came to the Grasslands to retrieve the stolen True Fire Rune, would have lost Harmonia another True Rune. Hikusaak would have moved the stars in the heavens to answer that insult.

Lucia cast her eyes down. She felt tired, sickened.

Nash knelt beside her. "Give me the rune's location," he said. His voice was pleading now, benevolent. A merciful man, seeking only to help. If only she could believe that.

"I do not know where it is," Lucia said. But she knew who knew. The Flame Champion's wife of fifty years ago. Did she dare trust him? Did she dare reveal to Nash Latkje, this spy who had betrayed them to his superiors, the means of finding the True Fire Rune? If it was her only choice, she would.

Nash spared her one last sorrowful glance, then walked away. He halted near the guards, at the exit. "I'll leave you without the blindfold. I'll return tomorrow. Think of my offer. Do not wait too long. You might have no people left to save."


The dim glow of countless lights filled the corridor, casting the underground passage in dancing shadows. The Sindar had carved glowing glyphs into the wrought stone walls, most of them still brimming with ancient magic. Down this hallway Hugo and Chris jogged, having left dozens like it in their wake. At each intersection they would stop, scouring the murals that hid there in the shadows for the secret marks left by the Flame Champion. Anxiously they would glance back at the burgeoning light tracking them through the subterranean labyrinth, listening to the muted echoes of heavy footfalls, trying to gauge the distance to the beast on their trail. Hugo knew the monster must also seek the True Fire Rune that rested somewhere within these ancient caves. They had to find the rune before the beast, or all would be lost.

There seemed to be an endless supply of corridors and intersections. After a long downward slope connecting the iron gates with the depths of the Sindar ruins, the mysterious glow at the bottom had unveiled this fathomless labyrinth.

The glare of firelight grew behind them as they searched yet another intersection. Hugo strained his eyes to pierce the shadows and ran his hands over the damp murals, tracing the cracks and crevices and feeling for the mark. Not there. He went from wall to wall. Chris gasped behind him, and he swung around. She shook her head. False alarm. Hugo felt a tightness in his throat as the footfalls sounded dangerously close.

"There," Chris hissed. Hugo almost dared not hope. He leapt to her side, looked over her shoulder. There on the wall was the mark of the harvest moon, the symbol of Chisha. Nodding to each other, they ran down the indicated hallway.

Hugo marvelled at the size of the underground complex of the Sindar. They must have travelled at least a mile through the endless expanse of tunnels, occasionally crossing great cavernous chambers whose ceilings were so tall, they were lost to darkness far above. Then they would run down carved tunnels that seemed to go on forever.

They turned down a bend in the hallway, and entered a great cave, its limestone walls left in their natural state. Hugo trotted to a stop, and Chris had to steady herself on his shoulders not to fall. The cave had no light. All they had to go by was the dim outline painted by the glow from several different passages connecting with the enormous grotto. Water dripped from the ceiling, and when Hugo advanced deeper into the cave, he felt water seep through his shoes.

"I'd give anything for a torch," he muttered. "How are we to find the mark?" He spun around, trying to stare into the shadows, searching for a path through the grotto. Once his vision started to adjust, he spotted the spiked form of a tall rocky outcropping in the center of the cave. There was nothing to suggest the right way out of the cave.

"Your Fire Rune?" Chris asked. Her breath came ragged, and sweat plastered hair to her cheek.

Hugo scratched at the inflamed flesh around the rune on his hand. The constant ache had blossomed into a throbbing pain not unlike having needles thrust under his skin every time his heart beat. Sometimes it would sear his flesh for a moment, and he had to bite his lip to bear the torment.

Hugo shook his head. "Even if it works now that we're out of the forbidden grounds, that… thing… that's chasing us will feel it, the moment I activate the rune." He could not say how he knew this, but somehow he did. Something about the relationship between his rune and the beast, perhaps.

Hugo balanced further into the slippery cave, trusting himself only to take small steps. He felt a cold sweat on his forehead, even winded by the run as he was. Their run might have put them in the lead, but they had only a short time to solve this riddle. He perceived no less than five exits from the grotto, and only one could be the true path.

"We'll have to split up," Hugo said, "somehow search the walls around the exits, one by one…" They sounded like the words of a desperate man, but to his surprise, Chris did not object. She just nodded, and set off at a slow but determined walk towards the first exit on their right. Hugo made for the first exit on the left. He glanced back in concern when he heard Chris cry out as she nearly slipped. Then he focused on the task at hand.

The beast's footfalls down the long hallway came closer and closer. He had seen before what that fiery monster was capable of. If they were caught in here, Hugo felt certain they would die. Frantically, he ran his hands up and down the dark walls near the mouth of the tiled hallway, desperately hoping to feel the carved outline of the harvest moon beneath his calloused fingers. The rough stone wall presented his hands with countless nooks and crannies, cracks and runnels. But nothing that felt like a mark.

Hugo was just about to give up on the first exit when he heard a roar echo down the hallway behind them. He turned to see the bright light of an incandescent flame filter into the cave from the corridor, illuminating the gray stone of the rugged floor. The light fully outlined the rocky outcropping in the cavern's middle.

They had run out of time. Hugo glanced behind him, sought out Chris's shadowy form near the second exit on the right. Throwing caution to the wind, he ran, cutting across the back of the cave and behind the stone formation at the center. He had made it halfway when his shoe slid on a patch of water-logged cave mold.

Hugo slipped and hit the floor. He felt a numbing pain lance through his knee, and saw that he had landed knee-first on a jagged rock. Water soaked his pant leg. Grunting, Hugo staggered back onto his feet, hobbled towards Chris.

She had turned when she heard him fall. Lucky, that. When she saw him, Hugo waved, gestured for her to come. Chris threw one brief glance at the brightly glowing hallway before drawing her sword. She then pulled the sword's sheath out of her belt and held blade and sheath out, tapping the treacherous cave floor ahead of her like a blind woman with a stick. Slowly, she made her way towards Hugo and the cover of the stone formation.

Hugo settled down on his weak knees, remembering to breathe. He pressed against the rock outcropping, searching the cave floor around it for the light creeping into the great cavern. The glare spilled ever further into the cave's expanse, revealing more and more of what had sheltered in the dark. A rugged stone floor pockmarked with puddles. Hugo's heart pounded like a drum as he watched Chris make her way toward safety. With each step, the glow from the hallway chased more of the shadows away, making the path ahead of her safer, but inching both of them ever closer to disaster. The footfalls echoing down the path seemed almost upon them, now. Over the thunderous feet of the beast, Hugo could even hear the patter of a dozen other creatures following in its wake.

Chris took the last step over a broad puddle, nearly falling into Hugo's arms as she huddled up next to him. Her hands desperately clung to both blade and sheath, grasping the implements with whitened knuckles. Hugo put a hand on her shoulder and held his breath, waiting.

The beast's heavy footfalls entered the cave and stopped past the threshold. Considering its path? The beast sniffed the air, then growled. The sound was like a giant's breath, and made Hugo shrink back even further against the stone outcropping. He prayed to the spirits the beast could not sense their presence, prayed it would choose the wrong path, giving them a chance to lose it in these dismal hallways.

Footfalls thundered through the cave. The light swung in an arc around the outcropping, as if someone had pushed open the door to a lit room. Hugo fixed his eyes on the edge of shadow, knowing that the source of these rays of light would be their doom. He inched back, dragging Chris with him. The beast turned around the outcropping, forcing them to turn with it, always keeping the rock formation between them like a shield.

Hugo felt Chris tap his shoulder. He turned to look, and his blood froze. There, on the opposite side from the beast and its baleful glow, a figure emerged from the shadows. Like the beast, it glowed, but its glow was the smoldering light of dying embers. It was humanoid - once human, Hugo thought - and wore tattered cloth and armor, a spear at its side and a helmet upon its shadowed head. Not his ancestor, this one. It looked Harmonian. And unlike the creatures they had faced in the forbidden grounds, this was more than some skeletal remains. It stared off into the distance, not seeing Hugo or Chris. As they watched this thrall of the beast, another of its kind stepped into view, holding its spear out and slowly searching the darkness. Hugo thought they could remain hidden where they now huddled, but if they had to keep circling the outcropping, they risked drawing the attention of the beast's thralls.

Hugo turned, praying to the spirits. The beast moved, and the light crept ever closer. Inch by inch, Hugo and Chris backed up, pressing as close to the outcropping as they dared. Pebbles tore loose from the rock formation at his back, fell to the floor and skittered on the ground. Hugo reached behind himself and caught a larger stone, kept it from falling. He held his breath. The thralls did not move.

The glow from the beast had nearly chased the shadows away, putting Hugo and Chris within inches of having to step into the vision of the thralls guarding the other side. The beast hesitated, seemed to ponder. Slowly it moved forward, pushing Hugo and Chris around the outcropping. The glow of reflected light started to illuminate Hugo's arm. He realized they would have to make a run for it. If they struck hard and fast, they might strike down the thralls nearest to them before the tortured beings could react. They would have to chance it. Hugo turned to Chris, to signal the attack.

The beast stopped. A low growl filled the cave. The thralls stirred into motion, the clinking of their armor sounding through the grotto as they turned and shuffled after the beast. The monster's heavy footfalls crashed down one of the great cavern's exits, growing fainter and fainter with each step.

Hugo collapsed against the floor, his legs soft as milk. Now that his blood slowed, the pain in his knee surged back, adding its insistent call to the now-familiar ache of the fire rune. He ignored it, too relieved by their good fortune to even acknowledge it. Chris knelt beside him, and Hugo found that somewhere along the line, their hands had entwined. In his relief, all he could do was squeeze her hand. That earned a faint smile from the woman.

Hugo and Chris waited until they could no longer hear the beast nor see its light cast back from the path it had taken before rising from their rest and resuming their search of the cave walls. On a dark hunch, Hugo padded over to the exit the beast had chosen. It wasn't long before his fears were confirmed.

The mark of the harvest moon. The beast had chosen the right path.


From his perch atop the southeast tower, Percival surveyed Brass Castle's courtyard. People from all over the Grasslands crowded the worn flagstones. The castle's ordinary allotment of travelers, messengers, and merchants jostled for position with a large number of farmers and craftsmen from the outlying villages east of Brass Castle. Some pushed wheelbarrows or pulled carts piled high with furniture and chests lashed in place. Crying children clung to their mother's legs, while toddlers rode their parents' shoulders. Word of the approaching Harmonian army had spread like wildfire, and these refugees now choked the passage through Brass Castle, grinding traffic to a halt. All over the courtyard there was the bedlam of hundreds of voices speaking at once.

Soldiers pushed through the crowds with the shafts of their spears, shouting for the people to make way as they inspected the contents of carts and wagons, even the bundles and baskets carried on women's backs. It pained Percival to see these people treated as strangers in their own land, but the Knights' duty was clear. The Harmonians marched to conquer Zexen, and their spies and agents could be anywhere.

Percival and Salome had arrived in Brass Castle at the head of three squads of Knights and a battalion of infantry hastily gathered from the Iksay region, along with a handful of reinforcements from Vinay. In total, a force of six hundred men and women. It was a skeleton crew. Brass Castle had been built to accommodate twice as many fighting men in times of troubles. With this paltry force, Sir Salome had to somehow shore up the castle's defenses against the arrival of a Harmonian army numbering in the tens of thousands.

It would have to be enough. Milady had ordered it. She had sent Percival to Iksay to deliver these orders to Sir Salome, and then tasked him with assisting the Knights' tactician in the all-important defense of Brass Castle. The throng of refugees clamoring below showed, with painful clarity, the true worth of the fortress. The castle was built on a flat-topped summit between two canyons, a pair of large stone bridges spanning the gaps. No one could march an army into the heartlands of the Zexen Confederacy without first laying siege to Brass Castle. With the exception of, he noted with some consternation, the lizard clan's uncharted subterranean tunnels.

"Sir!" an unfamiliar voice said. Percival turned to see a pimple-faced youth saluting him, wearing the tabard of a knight's squire. "Sir Salome sent me to find you. There's a disturbance at one of the taverns. It's at the Toothless Cat, Sir."

Percival hesitated, raised an eyebrow. "Such a matter ought to be handled by the castle watch. Why does Sir Salome send for me?"

The squire swallowed, visibly unnerved. "Sir Salome said to tell you, Sir, that, ah, it's a matter of some delicacy."

Now this had Percival curious. "Lead the way, lad," he said.

The squire half ran across the parapet and down the tower stairwell, occasionally having to halt himself not to get too far ahead. Percival stuck to a measured stride, quick but unhurried. The importance of remaining calm when others flustered and panicked had been drilled into Percival since he was a squire. Appearances mattered a great deal when you were a knight. This was all the more true now, with so many fearful and unnerved refugees gathered in the courtyard. Before exiting the watchtower, he stopped to remind the squire to slow his steps. They stepped out into the courtyard, past the saluting soldiers guarding the tower. Percival and the squire made their way through the crowd, the squire calling out "Make way! Make way for the Knights!"

The eyes that watched Percival were filled with hunger, exhaustion, and fear. They brimmed over with timid hope and crushing despair. He almost could not meet the people's eyes, keeping his own gaze fixed on the shopfronts and his destination. He thought of his sister, and felt a stab of guilt. He did what he did, for her. No matter the cost.

The squire cleared a path to the tavern and stood aside. Percival noticed that several guardsmen stood outside the open door, keeping an eager crowd back while glancing nervously at what was going on inside. Percival could make out voices from the tavern, one of them hollering over the others every few seconds. The voice seemed familiar, somehow, though Percival had no idea how that could be. The squire took up position beside the doorway, bowing his head hurriedly.

Ducking inside, Percival found the common room cleared of customers. Only three people stood inside. One was a portly barkeep with a balding pate and a greasy apron tied about his waist, the second was Sir Salome, with his back to the door. The barkeep was complaining to Sir Salome in a steady but agitated manner, jabbing his finger at the third man.

It was this third man's voice that Percival had heard from the outside. The force of his drunken insults carried through the tavern, ringing off the walls. His hair was unwashed and unkempt, and he swayed as he spoke, his arm tossing back and forth with the jerking movements of a man with too much wine in his belly. The white wool of his unlaced shirt was grimy with dirt and spilled wine, but his dark breeches and boots were the attire of a soldier. Indeed, a sword in a jewelled scabbard hung from his waist, tapping against his leg as he hurled his profanities.

Percival frowned and put a hand on the hilt of his sword as he approached the group. There was definitely something familiar about the man. But what could-

"Percival! Hah!" the drunk cried out when he spotted him.

Percival almost stumbled.

Alron. That damned jackal! Here, in Brass Castle? Percival took his hand off his sword. "Barkeep, shut that door!" he said. The last thing he wanted was for the crowd outside to realize that one of the Knights of Zexen was the source of the commotion, much less a knight drunk off his ass. "Alron, what in the name of the Goddess…"

Alron snorted. "That's suhr Alron to you," he slurred, "Or Milord, if you prefer. I'm your captain!"

Percival and Salome shared a meaningful look. This promised to end poorly.

"Lady Chris," Salome said, his voice low and steady, "Has placed us in command of Brass Castle's defenses. This task is crucial, if the confederacy is to survive."

Alron laughed. "Lady Chris is dead. Remember? She died. And I was made captain by the council. In front of errrrryone back in Vinay. Real public spectacle, that." He leaned in, breath stinking of wine, and grinned. "That means you two bootlickers are under my command."

Percival's fists tightened. He glanced back, saw that the barkeep had closed the door but hovered around the entrance, watching the scene unfold and wringing his hands. Percival briefly thought about arranging an 'accident' for Alron. With some regret, he dismissed the notion. Even with Adeline heading the council, Alron's claim had legitimacy to it. Technically, he was captain of the knights. For Percival to attack him would be a grave violation of his oaths. Worse, it would smear the knights' honor. It was madness.

Alron sneered and spun on his heel. He almost fell. He caught himself, staggering over to a table and shoving a chair out to splay himself onto it. "More wine, for the Goddess' sake!" he hollered.

The barkeep hesitated only for a moment before hastening to obey. Percival could see resignation in his eyes as he moved past them. It was clear that in the barkeep's mind, Alron's position as captain of the knights was all too official. All too real.

Salome motioned Percival away from the two other people in the room. With their backs to them, he spoke. "Sir Percival. I sense this will not end well."

Percival grimaced. "You've a talent for stating the obvious, my friend."

"Sir Alron knows as well as we," said Salome, "that only milady's miraculous return from the dead could challenge his legitimacy. At least in the short term."

Percival drew a deep breath. "Short term's all we have. We can't afford to go back to Vinay and petition the council to undo our new 'captain's' inauguration."

Salome nodded. "Just so." He put a hand on Percival's arm, fixed him with his steely green eyes. He had a way about him, Sir Salome did, that made people listen. "Sir Percival, you must make a journey to the Grasslands. You must find Lady Chris, and bring her back to Brass Castle." They glanced back, watched Alron swig cheap wine straight from the bottle. "You must do this," Salome said, "Before Brass Castle is lost."

Percival nodded solemnly. Salome was right. But more to the point, Percival had just been given the opportunity he had waited for. For his sister, he would do anything. But he hated what he had to do.

"I will go," he said.


The incarnation of the True Fire Rune blazed like a sun plucked from the heavens. Crimson and orange spilled from the dragon's scales, reflected in the cavern's flowstone formations. The light threw long shadows behind the cavern's natural pillars. Chris huddled behind a jagged tooth of rock, Hugo close by her side. Even at the gates, she had known the great serpent with the molten skin, a hundred fire runes branding its hide. It was the beast that had swallowed Huarn's 282nd West Company. She might live a thousand years, but she would never forget that sight, nor the screams of the men burning alive.

The incarnation had halted at the belly of the largest cave they had encountered so far. There, it lingered, waited. For what, Chris could not imagine. If it were a dog, she would say it was sniffing the air, searching out a scent. The important thing was, the beast's hesitation had presented them with a small window of opportunity.

Losing the race for the True Fire Rune to the incarnation would spell disaster for the Grasslands. They had to beat it to the rune, whatever the risk. Since eluding detection by the incarnation and its unliving servants in another cave, Chris and Hugo had stalked the beast through the Sindar ruins. Unerringly the incarnation had picked its way through hallways, intersections, and maze-like chambers. At first, they had searched each intersection for the harvest moon mark, to confirm their path. It was not long until they realized their investigation only slowed them down. The beast clearly knew the path by heart. It only seemed to confirm the beast's true nature, and its connection to the True Rune. Here, in this cave, they had a rare opportunity to sneak past the beast while it lingered on the cave floor.

They could see the cave's other exit in the distance. The cave was a massive chamber of unworked stone, with several stone arches spanning it. Each arch could bear the weight of a person, but was too small to support the beast. The cave was dark but for the incarnation's incandescence, and large enough to allow the two to pass by unnoticed. If they could escape the notice of the incarnation's undead servants. The incarnation had at least two dozen of the unnerving creatures scattered about the cave. Some flanked the beast, pretending at bodyguards. Others patrolled the cave's perimeter as if securing a castle courtyard against nightly intruders. Chris wondered if the incarnation expected them. She shook the thought away, not wishing to distract herself.

Chris pointed to a long, snaking arch passing along the outskirts of the cave. "We shall take this path," she whispered. "Are you ready?"

Hugo nodded. She read tension in his eyes, but his body betrayed nothing. "Let's go," he said.

Chris took one moment to ensure that neither the beast nor none of its servants were looking their way. Then she stood from behind cover and began padding across the rough stone floor. She had to glance at the floor every few steps to make sure she would not snag her feet on something dangerous or step in something that would produce a noise. Fortunately the glare of the dragon's own light embraced even the cave's outskirts in a shadowy half-light good enough to navigate by.

Chris and Hugo reached the base of the arch and started up its spine. The first bit was steep, forcing them to climb several steps and then drag themselves up from the cave floor and onto the path. Chris could see the incarnation more clearly from this perch, and reasoned that the same was true for the beast. She bent low as she tiptoed forward, opting for silence over speed. She could make out the beast's servants, too. One of them stood close to the incarnation, clutching a sword scarred and bent into a wavy formation by fire. Her eyes caught on the dead man. There was something familiar about him.

Suddenly the incarnation's great head swung around. Chris dropped to her belly. She pressed herself against the arch, hardly daring to breathe. She heard a low growl from the dragon's snout, and then footfalls. Its servants had moved to investigate. Chris wanted to look back, to see if Hugo had managed to hide, but she knew the dragon would spot her if she moved now. Chris's heart pounded like a drum. Slowly she inched her head sideways so she could spot towards the tunnel mouth at the other end of the cave. They were still too far away to make a run for it. The dragon would overtake them in a heartbeat. Would they have to run back the way they came? She stayed still, watching the dragon's raised head.

With a lazy growl and a flick of its tongue, the beast settled back onto its belly and sank its head onto its front legs, like a resting dog. Below the arch, the footsteps of the dragon's servants scraped against the stone. There was no time. They had to move now. She rose onto her hands and knees, looked back to make sure Hugo was there. The Karayan was right behind her, nodding his head to reassure her.

They scrambled along the arch towards its base on the opposite end of the cavern. The servants' footsteps echoed through the cave. Chris felt a prick of fear. There were too many of them, she realized. She looked around, tried to trace a path from the base of the arch to the tunnel's mouth. The unliving servants were everywhere. Behind them, the dragon stirred again. She heard the footfalls of the servant with the fire-scarred sword. They were trapped.

They would have to force their way through. She studied the tunnel's mouth again. Three fire-scarred soldiers guarded the passage, two with their backs to Chris. She turned to Hugo and very deliberately drew her sword from its sheath, careful not to make a sound. She dared not speak a word, so she stared at him, hoping he could read her intentions in her eyes. To her relief, Hugo pulled twin daggers from sheaths on his body.

A quick nod, and then Chris was off. Pebbles skittered beneath her feet as she sprinted from the arch and leaped onto the cavern floor. Her boots splashed in water as she ran for the tunnel's mouth. Hugo's feet slapped through the water right behind her.

The dragon let loose a roar that shook the cavern. Dust shook loose from the ceiling. The dragon's servants turned as one, all of them facing Chris.

Chris charged the first soldier with her sword raised high. She slashed across the creature's shoulder and chest, and scored a deep wound. She expected the thing to fall. It surprised her. The soldier spun its spear around and slammed it against her shoulder. The blow spun Chris around and stopped her right in her tracks. Then Hugo was beside her, parrying a spear thrust, knocking the shaft back and then turning to face another soldier. Chris got to her feet, and switched her grip to two hands. She could hear the incarnation's thundering steps at her back, and expected to feel fire engulf her at any moment. The dragon's servants approached from all sides.

Chris waited for the dead soldier to commit to an attack before stepping past its guard. When finesse failed her, she wielded her sword like a lumberjack. She chopped down on the creature's throat. The blade bit deep, and stuck there. The tortured creature stumbled and hesitated, but did not fall. She slammed her foot into the burning embers of the servant's torso, felt the heat singe the sole of her boot. She kicked down, and shoved the blade free. Then she hacked again. And again.

Chris's sword went clean through the dead man's neck and swung free. The servant toppled to the ground. Chris jumped over the body as it fell. She chased her own shadow, a dancing shadow that shortened with each heartbeat as the burning incarnation loomed ever closer.

Hugo came rolling across the floor, landing in a pile of arms and legs. Chris bent down and took his arm, yanked him to his feet. Together, they ran.

A servant stepped into their path.

Chris saw the servant too late. Its mace was already raised, poised to strike. The embers in its mouth and torso burned with a deep malice. Chris did the only thing she could. She acted on instinct, raised her hand, and unleashed her Water Rune. Steam hissed and sputtered as the full weight of the rune washed over the burning man. Mist rose in a gray cloud around them, dampening Chris's face. The mace clattered onto the stone. The man himself toppled backwards, like a torch extinguished. Past the servant and through the mist, and there was the tunnel mouth. Chris dashed through the narrow opening, feeling as if she'd won a foot race. She dared a glance back.

There, halting at the tunnel's mouth, the dragon rose onto its hind legs and roared, raking its claws at the stone, sending rocks falling. The monster was so close, the heat of its flames washed over Chris, stealing the breath from her lungs and beading her neck with sweat. The dragon's servants formed up around it. At their center stood a burning man. A man wielding a fire-scarred sword with a wavy blade.

Chris could not believe her eyes.

It was Captain Huarn.


Rune magic cut through the Harmonian column. The earth opened beneath the soldiers' feet, swallowed armored men. Thunder struck from clear skies, sizzled and fried soldiers in their boots. Rina wove her runes to exhaustion, annihilating the enemy forces before they could escape. She felt no mercy for these creatures. For whenever a Harmonian soldier fell, the armor would vanish and reveal a shadowy monster hidden beneath the illusion.

"They're testing us," Caesar said. The young man chewed a straw. "Albert won't commit to a full-scale attack before he can strike a crushing blow."

Rina wiped sweat from her brow on her sleeve and surveyed the carnage. Her warriors picked through the corpses, replacing broken weapons and offering prayers to the spirits for lost comrades. The fallen bodies of Karayans, Saraak, Kinese, Gani-Barans, even Chishans littered the slope which only moments before had been the site of a furious battle. The chieftain had led a strike team onto the ridge to lie in wait for the Harmonian skirmishers. While their main force escorted the train of refugees through the canyons and gullies of the Grasslands, Rina had banded together a small group of daring warriors to lay an ambush for their enemy. Caesar's plan had born fruit, twice over now. But their victories had proved costly, with their dead now littering the ridge. Harmonian bodies rested there too, but only a handful had remained human upon falling. The vast majority were nothing but spirits-damned illusions. Rina sighed. "If this is the test, I'd hate to see the true blow."

Lilly walked up to her side, thrusting her rapier back into its sheath. The girl fumed. "My father should never have signed treaties with these… these… cowards! What manner of people send monsters to fight their battles?" Lilly whipped her hat off her head and gestured with it angrily.

"A clever people," Rina conceded. "I would too, Lilly of Tinto. Had I the power to summon them." That little fact nagged at Rina's mind. Who among the Harmonians possessed this power to summon monsters from the shadow realms? The illusion was one thing, but the inhuman slayers beneath the masks were something else entirely. Summoning magic was a rare talent, and the child runes of the Front Gate Rune and the Back Gate Rune were difficult to master.

"There is no nobility in such tactics," Lilly said. She sounded angry, but also weary. It seemed even the impetuous "princess" of Tinto would eventually tire.

The way back to the refugee train was a bitter sight to behold. The desolate caravan had left a trail of jettisoned belongings in its wake. A toppled wardrobe lay on its side, its doors hanging ajar. A barrel had rolled down a slope and cracked its planking on a rock, spilling its cargo of wine to soak into the dirt. Someone had scattered a bundle of crumpled girls' dresses across the trampled grass. Wheel tracks sullied several of the dresses - each one a treasure of a lost childhood, its seams frayed but still holding, its patterns outdated but still beautiful. An antique rocking chair stood on the top of a hill, placed upright with delicate attention, as by someone hoping to return for it soon. All around her, Rina saw the price of the Grasslanders' retreat, precious things sacrificed in a desperate bid for survival. Given no choice, the people of Chisha threw their treasures to the dusty field, carrying their exhausted children in their arms.

Rina saw scouts and outriders along the trail. Some hailed them, asking anxious questions about their comrades. More so than the discarded treasures of the Chishans, Rina grieved for the warriors who did not return from each raid. With no time to waste, they had to leave their dead behind to rot in the sun. Her stomach clenched with guilt. She should have saved them. As they caught up to the refugee train, she saw accusation in every eye she met. She told herself it was not fair, that no one would blame her. But she could not quite make herself believe it.

Thousands had become hundreds. The time spent waiting and fretting in Chisha seemed a lifetime ago. By the time Chisha fell, there had been so many dead already. Harried by constant cavalry strikes, and raids by fast marching Harmonian light infantry, the defenders who had marched from Chisha now numbered three, maybe four hundred. She didn't want to count, didn't want to know how many they'd lost. Another dozen men lost this morning, turning aside a devastating raid. If not for Caesar's predictions, the death toll might have been ten times as high.

Rina vaguely heard loud voices arguing. She spared a weary glance, saw Lilly accost four men trying to shove free a wagon caught in a deep rut.

"You've all got wool for brains!" Lilly shouted. "It's just food! Leave it!"

The bass tones of the men's voices did not not carry well enough for Rina to hear their objections over Lilly's shouting. She ignored it, kept walking. Lilly would sort them out, or the Harmonians would. Sooner or later the men would realize the wagon was lost. Rina had a people to save. Spirits, she wished Lucia were here! The Karayan chief would know what to do. She would have kept them alive. 'If wishes were wings, pigs would fly', she reminded herself. Lucia was not here. Rina was on her own.

Almost.

Yumi looked up from where she knelt over an elderly woman. A dozen men and women crowded around them, sharing worried murmurs while Yumi wove the power of her Earth Rune into a healing spell. Rina hoped the old woman would live. Earth Runes were hardly ideal for healing, but they had the power to knit wounds and restore enough strength to limbs to ensure survival in most situations. For the graver wounds, a Water Rune's ability to reinvigorate flesh and blood was needed.

Rina saw the men and women around her, saw them march ever onward, taking one step at a time. Everyone pitched in. Some men carried two children at once, and she saw young women steadying the elderly, helping those who had nothing to ride to walk instead. She forced herself to look at them all in turn. No, there was no accusation in those eyes, she decided. She drew strength from that realization, mustering up her courage.

She had to save these people.


Sunlight streamed into the depths of the cave, forming a ghostly pillar of light before the gates. Hugo stared up into the craggy shaft in the ceiling, squinting against the light of day framed against the sky, impossibly far up. How deep into the earth they must have traveled!

Beneath the shaft, a large cavern spread out. The iron double doors that stood at the opposite end could only be the gates to the inner sanctum of the Sindar ruins. Hugo's heart pounded, and not just from the strain of running through the dark tunnels. He felt along the carved patterns and symbols that scarred the entire surface of the ten-foot-tall doors. He shoved his weight against a door, but could not budge it. The surface of the door made only a dull thud when he slammed his shoulder against it.

Somewhere behind these doors rested the True Fire Rune. One of the twenty-seven true runes… Did its immortal glow bask against the back of these doors even now? Hugo instinctively looked to his hand, where the poorly affixed fire rune festered. The pain from the rune now radiated out through his arm and shoulder. It ached like a fire set deep in his bones. It was all he could do to keep breathing.

Hugo shook himself out of the dark daydream. Within the cavern, silence reigned. Even the incarnation had fallen silent in their wake, as if it had spent its rage clawing at the mouth of the tunnel. He did not dare hope the beast would remain stymied by the narrow passage.

Hugo pulled Sana's book from its satchel, slung tightly against his back. He moved back into the shaft of light, letting it illuminate the faded pages. They would find the answer in there, if they could only understand the words. Chris leaned against his shoulder, and he shifted the book closer to her, letting her hold one end. Hugo glanced at her, saw her brow knit, eyes tracking the words, mouth working in silence. It was a discomfort, having her so close. A distraction. She, however, seemed not to realize.

A terrifying roar sounded from behind, echoing through the cave. Hugo almost dropped the book. He shared a worried look with Chris.

"We don't have much time," he said. Growling, he flipped the pages irreverently. "What does it mean? It's all riddles to me… How paranoid was the Flame Champion, anyway?"

Chris pushed the book closed in his hands, stepped towards the gates and walked along them, face turned to scan the symbols carved into the iron. She seemed remarkably calm to him, as if a terrible beast were not close behind, tracking them. "The white king," she spoke from memory, "tracks the raven queen's roost, beyond which Alusa's guide speaks clear, leading the way to the crystal mirror." She studied each symbol intently, searching for a pattern. "This one is different from the gate at the entrance."

Hugo shrugged. "Like I said, a damn riddle."

Chris turned her face to him. "At the gates, the answer was a series of runes pressed in a unique sequence. Then, the book described each rune in detail. Once we deciphered the meaning of the words, all we had to do was to find the runes."

Hugo cracked open the book again to double-check the words. His eyes fell on the passage with the riddle. Chris had memorized the phrase word for word. Hugo snapped the book shut and placed it back into its satchel before approaching the gates. A hundred symbols to search, perhaps several hundreds. "So we find the symbols? Without a description, how?"

"I believe the concept remains the same," Chris said. She knelt to examine the carvings at the base of the doors. "If we find our white king, our raven roost, our guide, and our mirror…"

Something tugged at Hugo's memory. A lost recollection? He was sure the words meant something to him, but he could not pin down the thought down. He tried to still his racing heart for long enough to think. There was no chance of guesswork here. Too many symbols to test.

"The White King…" Chris mumbled. "What symbol… A crown? A scepter? I do not see such a symbol. What else could-" Chris gasped suddenly. "Oh. I wonder…"

Hugo jerked around, saw her straighten. "What? Did you figure it out?"

Chris ran to him. "The Flame Champion was a Grasslander, was he not? His riddles would draw from your people's mythology. Hugo, tell me. The White King… is there any such figure in the stories of your people?"

Hugo looked at her uncertainly. "I don't know. I mean…" Then it hit him. Hugo slapped his own face. "Of course! The White King was the great boar of legend that Kyruann the Archer slew. For months the boar had plagued-"

"A boar!" Chris spun around, racing along the doors like an excited child. "There should be such a symbol here somewhere…" Her eyes were wide, pupils thrown large in the half-light near the doors. "There!" She pointed excitedly to her discovery.

Hugo hurried over, knelt to see. True enough, there at the base of the doors was the stylized image of a tusked boar at charge. "Could be," Hugo admitted.

"And the raven queen?" Chris said excitedly. "Where does she roost?"

Hugo grinned. "Upon an oak tree that spans the heavens. The goddess takes the form of a raven…" He cut off, leaping to his feet. They separated to search a door each. Hugo's eyes strained against the carved symbols. They could hear the roar of the incarnation come louder and louder through the tunnel, but he barely noticed. The ache of the fire rune in his hand had grown to something almost unbearable, but that too, seemed only a distraction. Feverishly he worked with the symbols, tracing them, interpreting them. There, he found the symbol of the oak tree near the seam of the double-doors. Alusa's guide, a bright star on the night sky, proved more elusive to find. Hugo and Chris worked their way all over the doors but could not spot it. Until they realized they were looking too far down.

"It is too high," Chris said. "We cannot reach it. Perhaps if-"

The incarnation roared again, so close on their tail now. Hugo felt sweat on his forehead, wondered if it had been there all along. He did not wait for Chris to speak again. He turned around and knelt down. "Get on my back."

"What? I-"

"Just do it."

Chris gingerly lifted her leg over his shoulder. "I have never…" She grunted, hands fumbling on his cheeks and forehead as she hopped, adjusting her stance. She folded the other leg over him. Hugo hoisted her up. Chris cried out in surprise. He gripped her legs tight, held her in place. "You're fine," he said. "I've got you."

"Very well," she said. Her voice sounded tense to him. Maybe it was just her thighs about his cheeks that made it sound like that. "Proceed," she commanded.

Chris leaned her palms against the doors and worked through the symbols, careful not to touch the wrong one and reset their progress. Hugo listened for the sound of heavy footfalls to appear out of the silence. The incarnation had to be close now. Would they make it in time? They were trapped in here with the doors. If the beast came upon them here… Unless they could fly up through that shaft in the ceiling, there was nothing they could do.

"I found it," Chris said, breathing a sigh of relief. Hugo imagined he could hear a faint click as Chris pushed her palm against the symbol.

"The final symbol," Chris said. "The Crystal Mirror?"

"A mythical lake," Hugo explained. "It's said to be the place where the water spirits are born."

Chris was silent for a time, scanning the doors' surface. "I see it," she finally said. "To the right…"

Hugo crab-walked until Chris was in position. When she pressed the final symbol, there was a faint rumbling sound. The doors began to split apart and grind open. Slowly. Much too slowly. Hugo bent to deposit Chris back on the ground. He pushed at the doors, hoping to speed their process but found that his weight added nothing. Second after second, the gap widened but only by a hair's breadth. Hugo saw light spill through the seam between the doors. On the other side, something glowed bright reddish-orange.

The roar from behind was so close, it jolted Hugo. He turned, and realized he could hear the beast's heavy running footfalls over the grinding of the gates. Moments later, the beast burst from the tunnel's mouth, barreling into the sunlit cave, all fangs and claws and burning scales.

Hugo pulled Chris with him, tried to squeeze her through the opening. The dragon snarled. It caught sight of them, and charged. The doors widened and Chris slipped through. Hugo threw himself against the gap and squeezed inside.

Hugo turned to the glow, searching the dome-roofed worked-stone chamber for the true rune. He felt his heart sink into his boots. There was no rune. Only a glowing stone altar.

They were trapped.