The soldiers had quickly set all non-humans aside and restrained them by the fire at their camp. All of the humans had been bound by metal cuffs and sat against the adjacent canyon wall, guarded by two privates. Much to her chagrin, Lola had been tied to hang by her feet from a large metal spit. Although they hadn’t placed her over the fire yet, it was clear that they intended to rotisserie her fairly soon. Rook had been placed in a large pot filled with water and several chopped vegetables that the soldiers had yet to place over the fire as well. Sam, Emma, Danny, and Sants sat chained up nearby. Talikha sat asleep in a cage, situated near the cage holding the librarian parrot and the wooden box containing the customs agent tarantula.

"They do realize they’re supposed to pluck you and kill you before they do that, right?" Lola whispered to the nearby rooster.

"Just play along," he replied. "I don’t think they really know what they’re doing."

The soldier preparing the soup Rook was in gracelessly splashed a spoonful of water over him. "No, no!" the rooster chided. "You’re only getting one area. If you don’t spread out where you baste, how am I going to stay moist while I’m cooking?"

The soldier fell silent. "I’m sorry, this a bit weird," they replied. "Food doesn’t normally talk while I’m cooking it."

"Maybe you’re overdue for some criticism?" Rook suggested.

"There are so many things wrong about this conversation!" Lola groaned.

She looked down to see another nearby soldier attempting and failing to lift a rope-restrained Sants off of the ground. "This cat weighs a ton!" they lamented.

The ground around the cat began fracturing as his weight dug into it. "No cooking. I stay here," he uttered.

"You’re not going to have much luck with him," Doug called over. "He can modify his weight at will. If you keep pushing, he may plummet himself right down into the center of the planet out of spite."

Segments of the earth surrounding Sants fissured as he sunk past his own feet into the ground. "Thanks for idea," he murmured.

"Stop wasting your time, you rube," the colonel’s voice called from the far end of the camp. "I specifically told you both that we’re only rationing the Buhund and the rooster tonight. You can deal with that stupid cat some other night."

"How about not cooking the Buhund?" Lola suggested as she struggled against her restraints. "I’m mostly gristle!"

The colonel grabbed an uncooked potato from a nearby sack and proceeded to shove it into her mouth. "Get this one cooked first," he remarked. "Just because these foreign mongrels are going to bewitch their livestock to talk like humans doesn’t mean I should have to listen to it."

Lola let out a muffled screech as she tried to scream through the potato.

Unmoved by the dog’s screams, the colonel made his way over to the group of humans, motioning for a soldier on the other end of the camp to follow him. "Former Privates Wesley and Carter," he addressed them, taking a cloth bundle from his subordinate.

He knelt down and unfurled the bundle onto the ground, revealing several weapons including the Genesis Chakram, the Voidrend Dagger, and what appeared to be a live branch sealed in a small glass case. "Before we return you to the homeland to stand trial, I don’t suppose you boys would want to tell me what all this is?" he inquired.

Amah shot a glare in Wesley’s direction. "How many weapons did you smuggle out of the sealed chamber?" she demanded.

"It wasn’t me!" Wesley protested.

Doug cleared his throat loudly. "It was me," he remarked. "I thought we might be able to use them."

The colonel growled under his breath, as he unfastened and removed his helm, revealing a pair of angry blue eyes. His skin was pale and his head was shaved, his bushy mustache the only hair on his head. "You two have been gone for a year and you’re still the same bumbling oafs you were when you deserted," he grumbled. "It certainly looks as if your year off wasn’t kind to either of you."

"We deserted fifteen years ago, Colonel Brooks, not one year ago," Carter groaned. "Wesley and I spent almost a decade on the Prithvian Royal Guard. I was their captain."

Brooks raised an eyebrow at Carter’s remark. "He’s telling the truth," Venice interjected. "During the days of the Empty Sky time stopped for regions outside of Prithvi because they temporarily faded out of existence."

"I’m not listening to the words of a foreign mongrel," Brooks responded.

The carpenter bared his teeth, steam visibly rising off his skin. "Call me that again!" he snarled. "I dare you!"

Both privates quickly turned their sword tips near the carpenter’s throat. "You’re in no position to make threats, boy," the colonel advised.

"What’s the point in threatening our lives? You’re just going to execute us anyway," Aurora chided.

Brooks chuckled. "I guess you see no value in living a little longer," he remarked.

"Life is about quality, not quantity," Amah replied. "Your lack of insight is hardly surprising. Do you care to realize that the dog you have your soldiers preparing for dinner is a hero to the entire planet? Killing her is going to make several nations very angry. You could start a war!"

"Let it," the colonel groaned. "The Republic of Aerthica lives for war. We will wage war until all nations on this planet fall under our rule."

"And what a great job of that you’re doing," Jakea butted in. "Your country barely takes up an eighth of the Northwestern continent, and if I recall correctly Cascadia, Estierraco, and New Terre have repeatedly and successfully fought back your armies from invading them for the past two centuries you’ve wasted being at war with all of them. Maybe you should just let us go and cut your losses?"

The privates repositioned their swords toward her. "Don’t know why I thought that would work. I guess it doesn’t work on you fellas," she sighed. "Go right ahead. Your army burned my hometown to cinders when I was a child and I survived. Don’t think you’ll cut me down here."

Brooks raised a hand. "At ease, privates," he commanded. "We haven’t debriefed them yet. The Higher Cast is going to want any information we can get if we’re turning in the two traitors to stand trial."

He looked to Wesley and Carter. "I’m not happy to have to do this, y’know," he miffed. "Even in spite of what freaks you both are, you were my most promising cadets.

"Particularly you," he stated as he pointed to Wesley. "I spent so many years questioning why fate would gift the talent for almost demonic swordsmanship to a vegetarian, livestock-loving lunatic!"

"What’s wrong with being a vegetarian?" Aurora questioned.

Jakea huffed. "They’re a culture of savages that eat anything that isn’t human," she remarked. "You think they really tolerate anyone who doesn’t think or act like them?"

Colonel Brooks scowled and pulled his sword out of its hilt just enough to show the blade to Jakea. "Looks like you two are hittin’ it off swimmingly," Betty snarked.

"How much longer am I going to have to wait for my money?" Alessa’s voice called.

The red-headed woman stepped into sight next to the colonel. "Did you forget the work order you signed and sealed?" she asked, unrolling the document in her hand.

"Work order?" Venice asked, confused.

"It’s an operational component that Aerthican forces adopted a century ago to protect non-Aerthican allies," Wesley explained. "Basically, a commanding officer and the Aerthican government are bound by contract to whatever terms of an agreement they sign with the ally, so long as the end result benefits their forces."

Brooks lowered the visible portion of his sword back into its scabbard. "If you read the blasted thing, you’d see that the terms include you being paid after my men disposed of the two traitors’ accomplices."

Alessa huffed loudly. "Well, hurry it up then," she sighed.

She pointed to Venice. "Maybe start with the one with the ridiculous sideburns," she suggested. "He bears an eerie resemblance to my ex-husband. Probably one of his backwoods cousins. It’s making me uncomfortable."

Lola gagged loudly from across the camp as she spat out the potato the colonel had shoved into her mouth. "You touch him and I’ll end you!" the Buhund threatened.

"It’s disgusting how attached you foreigners let your livestock get to you," Brooks groaned.

Aurora grunted as she struggled against her restraints. "Who are you and why do you have it out for us?"

Alessa smirked. "I’m just trying to make a living, lass," she answered. "There’s not much work for assassins in these parts, but the great Maria Alessandria D’Fiamma still has to make ends meet. Even if it’s as a bounty hunter."

The musician’s jaw dropped. "Venice—"

"It’s a common surname in Western Terra," the carpenter cut her off. "The customs agent even said so. I doubt I could ever be related to someone so repugnant."

"My name is Antonio," the agent clarified.

"She’s got the same hair color as you, though," Doug pointed out.

"Same eye color and dental structure, too," Betty added. "That and that comment about you resembling her ex-husband …"

Alessa burst out laughing. "Grasping at straws much?" she scoffed. "He’s far too young to be my ex-husband and far too old to be either of the two brats I left that washout of a man with."

Everyone paused. "You abandoned your own children?" Amah inquired.

"I suppose that’s how you could put it." Alessa shrugged. "I couldn’t really call them mine. Rovigo was the one who wanted children, not me. Can’t say I really bothered to remember them. Don’t even recall their names. That layabout was apparently so heartbroken over me leaving him that he left the country."

"Alessa," the colonel interrupted. "You know the longer you keep us from debriefing them with your unwarranted and uninteresting life story the longer it’s going to take to get your money."

The woman scoffed. "Fine, do as you must."

"Sir!" one of the soldiers called. "You may want to see this!"

The colonel struggled to his feet and trudged over to the campfire, Alessa following behind him out of curiosity. "What is it, you numbskulls?"

Looking past the two privates guarding them, Venice caught a glance of several soldiers standing over Balrog the Demon Chest and Aurora’s guitar; both of which were placed next to their campfire. "Neither of these things’ll burn, sir," one of them explained. "And the chest tried to bite me!"

"They must be bewitched," another soldier suggested.

"Then leave them be," Brooks ordered. "We’ll sell them off for supplies at the next town over."

"Hold on!" Alessa interrupted. "What entitles you to take all of their things? I know the exact places to sell things like this and make a nice profit. I should be the one to take them."

"My company of men says otherwise," the colonel replied as he reached for his sword.

Ruark let out a low groan, calling back the carpenter’s attention. "If I were back to my full strength, these Earthicans would be short work," he grumbled.

"Aerthicans," Carter corrected.

"Just out of curiosity, how long will it take to get you back to full strength?" Venice inquired.

"Three, maybe four days," the Da’i Kii answered. "A healing spell might expedite things, but someone else would have to cast it. My chi hasn’t re-amassed to the point where I could fully heal myself. Not unless I had something to amplify a spell to a great degree."

The carpenter caught Amah’s eye and leaned over to her. "Are the wards you and the others placed on Lola’s collar still there?" he asked softly. "I mean, it changed shape when Sarhu and Suhs added their magic to it …"

Perplexed, the Sun Spirit reflected for a moment. "They should still be there," she whispered. "Perhaps even enhanced by the additional magic."

Venice nodded and leaned back over toward Ruark. "Can you launch a healing spell?" he inquired in a low voice.

The Da’i Kii looked at him with concern. "Probably. Why?"

"When the guards aren’t looking, concentrate as much of your strength into one as you can and fire it into Lola’s collar. Set it to explode outward on contact," Venice explained.

"Who’s collar?" the Da’i Kii asked.

"Lola’s," Amah clarified. "The white Buhund tied to the rotisserie spit."

"The High Spirits placed wards on her collar that enhance beneficial magic," the carpenter spelled out. "If you launch an exploding healing spell into it, the collar should amplify it to not just cover the entire campsite, but to restore your strength as well."

"I’m surprised: that’s actually a really good plan," Doug remarked.

The two privates standing guard over them had drawn their attention away from the group as Alessa and Brooks’ feud over Balrog and Aurora’s guitar had turned into a loud, belligerent argument. "Now’s your chance," Amah exclaimed.

Ruark held up his hands, both still bound by metal cuffs. He pointed the index finger of his unarmored hand outward in the direction of the Buhund. His opened eye lit up with a subtle glow as he began softly chanting in an unknown and likely ancient tongue. Each word seemed to breeze past the air around them as if it was above creating actual sound and traveled directly into the minds of those witnessing the incantation. When he reached the sixth line of the chant, a tiny orb of green energy bolted out of his finger and flew past the soldiers guarding them.

Lola fidgeted against her restraints when she saw the spell heading in her direction. As it closed in and collided with her collar a flash of green light washed over the entire camp, its energy filling her with an intense warmth. She could hear the soldiers clamoring in shock at the burst of magic, continuing even as the light subsided. "What was that?" Alessa begged in confusion.

"Whatever it was, it fixed my trick knee," Brooks offered.

Before the Aerthican Soldiers could regain their composure, a pulse ran through the air of the camp. Every one of them plummeted to the ground simultaneously, struggling under the weight of their armor. "I can’t move!" one of the soldiers cried.

"What kind of witchery is this?" Brooks demanded. "D’Fiamma, is this your doing?"

Unaffected by what had afflicted the soldiers, Alessa shook her head. "I can’t take credit for this bit, but I’ll happily take their trinkets," she remarked. "Since, you know, it’s just a touch obvious that you’re not going to be able to pay me the gold you owe at this point."

She began to kneel to pick up Aurora’s guitar. "That does not belong to you," Ruark’s voice boomed.

Lola’s eyes drifted toward the sound of the Da’i Kii’s voice. He was no longer seated by the canyon walls, and the metal cuffs that had once bound his hands had vanished. A flurry of luminescent, golden particles flowed through the air around him, matching the furious golden glow of his eye.

Alessa had frozen in mid-kneel at the sight of the magic user, left momentarily speechless by the display. She began stuttering loudly as she attempted to form a coherent sentence.

Ruark glowered as he stepped forward, murmuring yet another incantation under his breath. The shackles and metal binds of everyone imprisoned in the camp, the knives holstered to Alessa’s belt, along with the soldiers’ armor and swords began to radiate with the same gold glow of the particles surrounding the Da’i Kii. Most everything made of metal in the small encampment atomized into the same type of luminous flecks and flowed through the air back toward him, gracefully encircling his form.

Lola fell to the ground, freed from her bonds as the metal spit vanished. The remnants of the uncooked soup Rook had been sitting in splashed loudly against the earth as the rooster found himself sitting wet in the middle of a pile of damp vegetables.

He continued chanting as a portion of the particles began to gather behind him and solidify into a set of several golden swords that revolved in a circle in the wake of his back. Another portion molded themselves into another ring of golden blades that orbited around his mid-section. "If you wish to continue living, I suggest you stand down," Ruark advised.

Freed from their armor, but reduced to the rags they wore underneath, Brooks and his soldiers scrambled to their feet. "What on Lumea are you?" the colonel pleaded.

"What or who I am is of no concern to you," Ruark replied. "It is what I will do to you if you fail to listen to me is that should worry you."

The Da’i Kii approached, locking his gaze with the Aerthican superior. "You live for war?" he asked. "I am a war machine, a living weapon. I can show you war at its worst."

Brooks and his soldiers were silent. "Your nation’s name is one that’s unfamiliar to me. It’s likely that it did not yet exist when I sealed myself away many centuries ago," Ruark elaborated. "Regardless, I’m not at all impressed by what I’ve seen in your soldiers. Ergo, I’m not impressed with your country. What I just did took an absolute minimal amount of effort at my full strength, so I’m going to give you and your men a warning."

The ethereal swords encircling him left their orbit and skewered the ground behind him, instantly growing dull and returning to unpolished, grey iron. "You will relinquish what you have stolen from this group," he began. "You will leave this canyon. You will leave this country. You will report to your superiors that Wesley and Carter are deceased. You will never bother this dog or her friends again, and you will do so because if you don’t, I will single-handedly reduce your entire proud nation to ashes.

"And if your ’Higher Cast’ ever decides that they want to push you toward pursuing this Buhund to start a war," Ruark continued, "let them know that the Da’i Kii’s last Spellsword, Ruark della Chiave di Ferro, will be happy to give them one that will decimate them. Now get out of my sight before I start having second thoughts about allowing you to live."

The Aerthican soldiers turned and ran away at break-neck speed, leaving Alessa and Brooks behind them. "This isn’t over," Brooks quivered before turning to flee.

"Oh, I think it is," Ruark called after him.

Alessa wordlessly fled after the colonel. Lola turned her attention back toward the Da’i Kii warrior, then to Rook. "Did he just say his name was …" she trailed off.

"It definitely ended in ’di Ferro’," the rooster replied.

Venice dashed from the canyon wall over to her, almost falling flat on his face as he approached. "Lola! Are you all right?" he implored.

"I’m fine," the Buhund answered. "I just wish they’d washed that potato before they shoved it in my mouth."

"Rest of us are unharmed if sideburns is wondering," Sants murmured.

The customs agent, his face now free of bruises, had approached the center of the camp and proceeded to start trying to pry open the wooden crate that tarantula sounds had been coming out of. "Hold on, Mali," he whimpered. "I’ll get you out of there!"

"Take it easy before you hurt yourself." Venice grabbed the crate from the agent and effortlessly tore the boards off of the top of it.

He yelped as the tarantula inside jumped directly onto his face, before leaping to Agent Biancardi’s shoulder. "Are you hurt?" the agent asked.

The arachnid hissed softly. Biancardi responded with a sigh. "Thank goodness."

Venice desperately tried to brush the lingering sensation of the tarantula’s feet off of his face with his hands. Lola shook her head and turned her attention back toward the agent. "How did they even find out you guys were connected to us?"

Before Biancardi could respond, the parrot librarian fluttered over to his unoccupied shoulder. "Sorry, I’ve been circling around the camp since the cage they had me in was disintegrated by your wizard friend," she wheezed.

"Please do not call me that!" Ruark called from across the camp.

Concerned, Amah hurried over. "Calling a Da’i Kii a witch, warlock, or wizard is considered a slur in their culture," she explained. "You should never call them that!"

The parrot groaned. "Pardon me, that was insensitive."

Agent Biancardi cleared his throat, Agent Mali mimicking his posture as he did. "To answer your question, we’re not entirely certain how they figured things out. A few hours after I filled out your paperwork, I noticed that my binder went missing," he explained. "I have to assume that D’Fiamma woman swiped it when Mali and I stopped in Zaffiro Square for lunch. As she explained in detail after the Aerthicans captured us, she’d been scouting the area at the behest of that troop’s colonel."

"She pretty much told us everything … unbelievably chatty for someone who calls themselves an assassin. She spotted Wesley and Carter being registered by Antonio and Mali, then stole his records to confirm it was them, as they appeared older than Colonel Brook’s description," the parrot continued. "Then after the Agents were captured, they tortured information out of Antonio—the only intel being that he and Mali saw your group heading toward my library. They then captured me and threatened to destroy me and the entire Zaffiro Grand Library if I didn’t disclose your whereabouts. I didn’t know for certain where you were, so I had to guess based on the books you looked at when you visited."

Her feathers ruffled. "Honestly, I was hoping the entire time I had guessed wrong. You have to understand that we wouldn’t have disclosed any of the information we did if our lives weren’t threatened."

"It’s fine. I understand," Lola responded. "It’s not like they gave you a choice."

"Regardless, we should probably head back to Zaffiro," Biancardi interjected. "Whatever you lot are embroiled in, you clearly don’t need us in your way. We’ve caused enough trouble for you already."

Lola and Amah looked to one another, concerned. "Are you going to be able to find your way back to Zaffiro by yourselves?" the Buhund asked.

"We’ll be fine," the parrot reassured them. "It’ll be a bit of a long walk for them—maybe a day at most—but I can fly back fairly quickly."

Biancardi scratched his temple. "I would like to take a homing point for you so we can contact you by dracopigeon. If that’s all right," he entreated.

Lola paused. "A what?"

"He needs something that has the scent of someone in our party on it for a dracopigeon to home in on, otherwise known as a homing point," Rook clarified. "Otherwise it won’t be able to find us."

The carpenter tore a small scrap of fabric from the sleeve of his shirt and handed it to Biancardi. "It should be strong enough. We haven’t had time to do laundry in the past few days, so …"

The customs agent tucked the scrap away inside his coat. "It should work. I’ll be in touch."

He turned, the tarantula and parrot still perched atop his shoulders as he walked away. "Take care!"

Venice sighed. "That reminds me … we really need to stop by a river at some point. I have no clean clothes left."

"You’re also starting to stink on a similar level to Carter and Wesley," Lola remarked.

Amah chuckled loudly at her comment.

"We haven’t stopped anywhere I can bathe for almost three days," the carpenter defended.

Aurora’s voice cut across the camp. "Guys!"

Lola looked to see the musician waving them over to her. Ruark was kneeling beside her, struggling to breathe. "What’s wrong?" Lola asked as she and the others raced over.

"He just collapsed," Betty explained. "He keeps trying to get back up."

Sam ran ahead of her and nuzzled in next to the Da’i Kii. Ruark growled under his breath in an unknown language. "That took more out of me than I thought it would," he bellowed.

Sam whined loudly. "Sam says he needs water," Lola translated.

"Well, Sam can wait a few minutes for water. We’ve got bigger things to worry about here," Betty replied.

The Buhund snarled in frustration. "Sam doesn’t need water, Ruark does!"

The Parkahund garbled in response. "He’s dehydrated," Lola translated again.

"Fine, get let’s get him into the caravan," Doug instructed. "We’ll get him stabilized, and the rest of you can start packing things in here. We can’t linger here for long."

Next Chapter: (Book 2) Chapter 11 - The Warlock of the Iron Key