The master had barely set the second urn on an empty shelf in his library when a green crystal bird landed on the arm of his black chair. Mikhail reached for it then caught himself. He’d crushed one of Connor’s messengers months ago and now he was no longer allowed to touch them with his clumsy, armored hands. His master sat and pulled the little note from the bird’s mouth, his expression darkening as he scanned the tiny words.

“Damn it! Useless, pathetic druid.”

“Master?” Mikhail leaned in to try and read the note. Whatever Eleck had said it was the wrong thing.

Connor disintegrated the slip of paper and rounded on Mikhail. “I warned him there would be a price for more failures. You remember, I said no more problems. Take care of your tasks or face the consequences. That’s what I told his messenger.”

“I remember, Master.”

“Now, not only has he not finished preparing the cavern, he’s also failed to deal with the runaway druid girl. She’s back with help from the kingdom. All the soul force eaters I gave him are dead along with most of the fire-scales. Do you know the final insult?”

Mikhail took a step back. He’d never seen his master in such a foul mood. “No, Master.”

“Eleck has the unmitigated gall to ask for more help!” Connor grabbed the front of Mikhail’s armor and yanked him down so their faces were even. Metal that had deflected some of the strongest soul force blasts Mikhail’s opponents could generate crumpled under the enraged warlock’s fingers. Mikhail tried to swallow and failed. “And the worst part, Mikhail? I have to give it to him!”

Connor hurled Mikhail across the library to slam into the far wall where he clattered to the ground like a boulder tossed into a scrap metal heap. Connor stalked across the library after him. Mikhail stumbled to his knees and touched his head to the floor. He sent a silent prayer to the Horned One that his master would control himself before he destroyed Mikhail. He held his position, eyes squeezed shut, waiting to die.

Connor sighed and patted his arm. “It’s not your fault, Mikhail. I shouldn’t have taken my frustration out on you. It’s just you’re the only thing here I didn’t fear breaking.”

Mikhail risked looking up. Connor stared down at him with his glowing red eyes and a hint of a smile playing about his lips. “It’s okay, I’m over it now.”

He grabbed Mikhail by his shoulder armor and jerked him to his feet with one hand. Connor brushed his breastplate and the twisted metal straightened and smoothed out like nothing had happened.

Mikhail managed to work some spit into his dry mouth. “What will you do, Master?”

The great warlock sighed again. “I’ll send the idiot help. He has a job to finish after all. Once the ley lines are in the proper position, however, it will be necessary to punish him for his constant failures. Him and all his useless tribe. You understand, Mikhail?”

A slow smile spread under Mikhail’s helm. “I understand, Master. When the task is finished” —Mikhail dragged his thumb across his throat— “everybody dies.”