Chapter 5

Valkron sat on the edge of his bed and stared at the floor.

It was early morning in Geffen. The magical field here was so thick that it delayed the arrival of the sun's light, so the sun only appeared in the skies above the city about ten minutes after it had really risen. Mist still hung about the top of Geffen Tower while there was an occasional squawk as a bird flew into the shining tip.

It had been a long day yesterday, and today looked no better. The new addition to their party was strangely clever, he suspected, but not as clever as Emeth. He'd left the wizard to argue, and by midnight he'd come out wearing an oddly triumphant expression. But even though Emeth had won Samaroh had kept his cool with a certain and definite you-might-have-won-this-one-but-you-wait-till-I-get-a-grip-on-you attitude. It was what Emeth had said, anyway.

Samaroh. Hm. The name was also vaguely familiar to Valkron. He'd not met the priest until yesterday, either, but somehow the golden earring seemed to give him a clue. Someone had told him that a priest had got an earring. It was probably Samaroh.

Valkron also knew that he actually didn't listen to people most of the time. If someone had given up talking to you after two minutes the topic was entirely irrelevant and not worth listening to. But as a knight he always wanted to know what the other mercenaries had been up to, and he relied on an old friend to tell him. His friend knew him well, so someone who was mentioned to Valkron was always worth mentioning about.

He got up and went over to the window. The chaos that had broken out last night had lasted well into the morning. All that remained now of the stampede were dark stains on the flagstones, an occasional torn piece of cloth and soot where the torches had burned. It looked like the mercenaries weren't going to go back to the dungeon for a long time.

Valkron padded softly over to the door and opened it. There had been plenty of noise then, too. People were rushing up and down the stairs, either shouting or crying. He hadn't been bothered, though - it was probably because he'd been too tired to even hear anything else. Now the corridor too was deserted. He padded along to Emeth's door and knocked.

There were footsteps from behind the door, and then it opened to reveal a wizard with ruffled hair. 'Oh, it's you,' he said sleepily. 'Come on in. You're standing there without your armour. Must be freezing.'

Valkron entered the room. Emeth had only been in it for one night, but the room was starting to look like him - messy and drawn out.

'I just woke up,' said Emeth, stifling a yawn as he went to the window and pulled the curtains open. 'I forgot about the sun here, but in Geffen I always know when to get up.'

'It's your home, Emeth,' said Valkron, seating himself in a chair near the bed. The rumpled bedclothes on it appeared to say that its occupant had been a very messy sleeper.

'No, not really. More like a second home. I came from Prontera, originally.' The wizard disappeared behind a screen, on which his cloak had been draped over. There were splashing sounds. Valkron patiently waited.

Eventually he emerged, wiping his face. 'Ah, that feels a lot better,' he said, and sat down opposite Valkron. 'So why did you see me for? I thought you'd only come to me if you wanted to chop my head off or something like that.'

Valkron leaned forward. 'Have you ever heard of Samaroh?' he said. 'Or seen him?'

'No,' said Emeth flatly. 'I mean, if I had I'd be bloody well shouting it out now. You know me, Valkron.'

'Not much,' admitted the knight.

'I'll just say he's another odd character you don't come across any day. It's as if he's exchanging information for a place in his party. Do we look like we're desperate for someone like him with us?'

'I think we did,' said Valkron carefully, 'last night.'

'But we wanted someone to heal us, not someone to tell us stuff.' Emeth sighed. 'Oh, well, either way we still get a priest of our own. An odd one, with much interests in traditional medicine, but he's still a priest. Better than none.'

'That stuff he has actually works,' said the knight. 'The bruise on my back doesn't hurt anymore and it's not as large as it was yesterday. I checked this morning. And that cut on your head looks like it's almost gone.'

Emeth felt it. 'He used some green liquid,' he said. 'It stung quite a bit, but you're right.'

'Valkron leaned back. 'I wonder how he got to know so much about the portal,' he said, more to himself than to Emeth. 'He almost sounded like you.'

'Fluctuations in the magical field,' said Emeth quietly. 'He understood them. I guess it's time to drag out the answers from him today.'

It wasn't that difficult, as they found out. All they needed was one question.

'Am I right in saying that the portal is affecting everything on this world?' said Valkron.

Samaroh dropped one sugar cube into his tea. He appeared to be thinking very deeply, and he did so while he stirred. Then he put the spoon down, took off his cap and fanned the tea gently. After that he put it back on, took both cup and saucer and drank out of it with his eyes closed. Emeth looked agonised, but he said nothing.

Only when Samaroh had put it back down on the table did he speak. 'Yes, but in some ways indirectly and in others directly. The monsters are being affected directly, causing them to attack innocent people when previously all they preferred was to amble around in the forest and prey on other creatures. These creatures also become more powerful and more aggressive, thus making them a great danger to the human population of our world. The portal forces old magic from our world to keep it open, while sending in old magic from somewhere else. Old magic is poisonous to monsters and to some extent to humans, but there is hardly any of it left now. It remains in old cities and dungeons, which are remnants of our world's once violent history in its making, and this is what adds to the magical field in Rune-Midgard.'

Emeth opened his mouth, but the priest held up a hand. 'I've not finished,' he said smoothly. 'Because of this direct effect we are being indirectly affected as well. After all we are the ones being attacked and injured and killed. If this continues the old magic will spread to our cities and cause monsters to follow it there.'

'Why are they attracted to it?' said Valkron. Emeth had sat back and closed his eyes. It was apparent that he knew the answers.

'Old magic is a source of power to monsters and to us,' said Samaroh. 'It gives us the ability to cast spells, like Emeth there, and me. It enables you to be one with your sword, so that you can fight it. Oh, yes, it is responsible for the many qualities it has given us, but too much of a good thing can lead to disastrous results. Monsters like power, and not being gifted with rational thought like us they seek it out and use it. In the end the old magic claims their souls. However, I do believe that the magic is affecting some of us directly.'

'What do you mean by that?' said Emeth.

'Well, have you recently felt any pressure, or pain, or any sensation of something intruding our world?'

There was a pause, and then Valkron and Emeth straightened up and looked at Samaroh.

'You...experienced it?' said Emeth.

For the first time since they met him Samaroh looked worried. 'Yes,' he said. 'I am concerned that others don't feel it, however.'

'Others?'

The priest gestured around them. There were people walking about - after all, the three of them were at a cafe, with Valkron's peco tied outside it. 'They don't feel it,' he said. 'I was in Prontera when I experienced a splitting headache and something that felt like a giant hand pressing on my body. It was quite a few nights ago. When I got up people were staring at me as if I'd gone mad and someone even cared to ask so. I asked if he had felt such pain, and he said no. Plenty of other people have given me the same answer.'

'But why only us?' said Emeth. 'That's not exactly...fair.'

'That's what I intend to find out,' said Samaroh, looking down into his tea. 'It doesn't seem very relevant, but somehow if this affecting our world then I might as well just go and seek it.'

'Hold it,' said Valkron sharply. 'There's no point in going to look for the blasted portal by yourself, is there? Incidentally, Emeth, can you find the portal by using your magical awareness? You found Geffen by using your staff to sense out the wavelength, didn't you?'

'Um...my staff will explode on detecting old magic.'

'WHAT? But there's got to be old magic EVERYWHERE.'

'Only in trace amounts, Valkron. The portal's emitting a large amount of old magic, anyway.'

'Excuse me for interrupting, but may I ask something?'

They turned to see a blacksmith behind them, at the next table. He had long brown hair tied loosely behind, with a cream-coloured bandana around his forehead. There was an assassin with him.

'I'm sorry for eavesdropping, but it's rather important,' he said, to the startled mercenaries.

'Go ahead,' said Emeth.

'This experience you were talking about...well, I'd like to say that both of us,' he gestured at the silent assassin, 'have felt it as well.'

Emeth looked at Samaroh. 'Are you sure no one else has felt it?'

'We asked around,' said the assassin. His eyes were closed and his arms were folded across his chest. 'No one else felt it. We were in Morroc a few nights ago.'

The three of them exchanged looks.

'So it doesn't actually matter where we were,' said Emeth. 'Two below Geffen, one in Prontera, two in Morroc. I wonder who else felt it.'

'We'd like to find out about it too,' said the blacksmith. 'Do you mind if we join you?'

'This is more like research than a mercenary party,' said Valkron, burying his face into his hands. 'Yes. Whatever. Join in the fun. As long as we help each other out in tight circumstances--'

'Hang on,' said Emeth. 'He's an assassin, right? I thought assassins don't mix around with other people.'

'I'm different, you could say,' said the assassin. He was wearing a straw hat - the kind that farmers wore. Grey hair peeked out from it. He opened his eyes and nodded at Emeth, touching his forelock. 'I'm what you could call a [i friendly [i assassin. Please don't make fun of it. I am Khan, and my companion here is Amaru. He doesn't actually talk much.'

And that was it, thought Valkron half an hour later, as they headed out of Geffen. Compared with the other mercenaries his party seemed almost like a joke party. A wizard who treated everyone like a friend, a priest who radiated an aura of self-importance, an assassin who likes to be friendly and a silent blacksmith.

He sighed, and mounted his peco. There was nothing else he could do about it, but right now he wanted to go somewhere very specific, although he'd just visited the place some days back.

It was a short, simple journey. All they had to do was to walk east, so no one was complaining.

'It's odd that we haven't encountered any monster on our way,' said Emeth to Valkron, on the fifth and last night they were spending in the forest. 'It takes five days to walk from Geffen to Prontera, and here we are without delay.'

'Be thankful for it,' said Valkron shortly. He'd accidentally stepped into green pond earlier on, and was not in the mood for talking. Emeth sighed. They were both sitting on a fallen tree trunk.

'Yes, well, it's probably because something's wrong with the portal,' said Samaroh, from behind them. 'I hope it's permanent. I'm being constantly subjected to fluctuations in the old magic.'

Emeth half-turned. 'You are?' he said, looking over his shoulder at Samaroh. 'Are you some kind of detector for old magic or what?'

The priest gave him an irritable look. 'Sometimes,' he said, 'but I wish you wouldn't put it that way.'

The wizard sighed again and turned back. 'People.'

Above them the evening sky turned into black. Amaru threw the last stick he'd found in the forest and looked meaningfully at Emeth, who pointed his staff at the pile of firewood and muttered. A spark fell off the crystal and flared when it touched the wood.

The five of them watched the dancing shadows of the fire for a while. Then Emeth got up and stretched. 'I'm turning in,' he said. 'Don't make too much noise, please.'

'We haven't eaten yet,' said Samaroh, in some surprise.

'I don't have an appetite.' Emeth waved a vague hand over his shoulder. 'Count me out.'

'Hmm,' said Samaroh, and turned back to the fire.

There was a choke. Everyone looked up or turned to see Emeth falling to his knees. Valkron got up and knelt down beside the wizard, who was gripping his cloak around himself. 'Emeth, what's up?'

He could see that the wizard was shaking. Beads of sweat were dropping off the tip of his nose. His eyes were squeezed shut.

'Emeth--'

The wizard opened his eyes. Valkron nearly moved backwards in shock. Emeth's golden eyes were glowing.

'Get - away,' he gasped.

And then there was that hot, burning pain again. Valkron gave an involuntary yell of pain and clutched his head again. The other three had also fallen to their knees, although they were being affected differently. Khan had simply doubled over and had his arms around his stomach. Amaru lost his grip on the ground a moment later and writhed in pain. Samaroh was had put his hands over his ears and was shaking badly. Valkron became aware of the same insistent whining that he had heard the first time, growing louder and louder and setting his teeth on the edge. It was a very persistent sound and penetrated right through his brain. His mind was boiling.

The pressure came back. It was like what Samaroh had said - an invisible giant hand pressing everything out of them. Valkron was sure he heard his backbone crack. The tiny cool part of his mind prayed that it hadn't happened.

And then once again everything snapped back into place.

Valkron carefully removed his hands from his head. He looked at Emeth. The light in the wizard's eyes faded as he watched, and Emeth sagged. The knight inhaled deeply and turned around. The members of his party were groaning in various positions in the area.

There was a rustling sound from the bushes. Valkron's shaking hand gripped the hilt of his sword, and after three tries he got a grip on a tree. His vision was blurring badly, but he was a warrior and there was such a thing as going down fighting. He drew his sword.

Someone stumbled into the place from the bushes and grasped a tree before he could fall over. It was a hunter. He slid in and out of Valkron's sight.

'You - felt it - too - right?' he said, and collapsed.

Valkron, now shivering, lowered his sword. Another one who could feel the portal, he thought. How many more would be affected?

What would Rune-Midgard become?