“You wear the robes of the Battlemages,” Ardic said.

Jake frowned. Considering the source, that almost seemed like an accusation, yet it sounded more like a question. “It was a gift from when I dueled and killed one of them.”

Ardic raised an eyebrow. “You have a strange way of making friends.”

True enough. Jake stifled a chuckle. “You could say that. I’m not a member of the Order, though.” Or a battlemage, for that matter, but better not to mention that considering he likely would be soon.

A frown crept across Ardic’s brow. He glanced at the doorway and forced out a smile. “We took these as trophies, proof of one of our few victories in the Fall of Tarkath. It feels wrong to keep them now. I would have offered them to the Battlemages as a token of our gratitude, but they asked for no reward other than battle. Perhaps you might find a use for them.”

A use for what? What was Ardic waiting for?

A dwarven soldier sprinted into the room carrying a sword and a staff taller than he was. He ran up to Ardic and dropped the weapons at his feet. He keeled over, panting and staring at his gauntlets. Why were they glowing red?

Luther stepped forward and cast Heal upon the soldier. “Thank you, lad.”

Had those weapons burned him? Was this the “reward” that Ardic had been talking about? Diplomacy urged him to wait and see. Presumably, it had something to do with the Battlemages. He plastered on a smile and waited.

Ardic lifted the sword and staff and placed them on the table. Both were simple designs brimming with powerful magic, and far too large to be designed for dwarves.

He hid it well, but a twitch betrayed Ardic’s pain at handling them. “These weapons were wielded by the leader of the Order of the Battlemage. We took them after we slew him during the Battle of Tarkath. On behalf of Tonvalbortdelan, the heir of Tarkath, I offer them to you to do as you see best.”

The sword’s blade was straight and double-edged, not far off three feet long. The handle was large, no doubt designed for orc hands, and a large red gem was encased in the pommel.

Indecipherably complex magic was woven into the entire weapon except for the gem. What was the point of that? Jake couldn’t imagine that vanity or decoration had determined the design for the head of the Order’s weapon.

The staff was nearly as tall as Jake. Almost its entire length was a perfect circle of consistent width, covered in the same smooth bark as the inside of a wood elven tree-room. At the top sat a glass-like orb, a little larger than a tennis ball.

Did they burn dwarves specifically, whoever was an enemy of the Order at the time, or anyone not a battlemage? Clearly, Ardic suspected it might be the latter, but if he was still offering it, then it was doubtful he knew for sure. That, or he was still being a complete asshole.

Jake bowed his head. “Thank you for this gift.” This gift that you’re not even sure won’t burn me.

The only way to find out was through data. After being stabbed, exploded, and repeatedly dying, what was a little more pain? He reached out, tensed up, and grabbed the sword’s handle.

Fire ignited every nerve in his arm. He dropped the sword and tried not to sigh too loudly. Beautiful weapons, if only he could wield them. Would he be able to after taking the Battlemage specialization?

He bit back the urge to pick it immediately. The option was there now he’d hit level 10, but exhaustion clawed at the back of his mind. He wouldn’t get to pick another general specialization for 10 more levels, and that would take nearly 8 times as much XP as he’d gotten so far.

Not that he had another specialization to take yet, and combat specializations were rare. Then again, traits were supposed more like once in a lifetime, and he’d already gathered several of those. Unlocking specializations might well be easier for Heroes.

Sleep first, permanent life-shaping decisions later. “Would you be willing to keep them for me until the morning?”

“Of course,” Ardic said. His shoulders slumped slightly. “There is another matter to discuss.”

He paused and looked toward Frieda. She raised her eyebrows and stared back at him.

Ardic nodded slowly. “The wood elves.” He breathed heavily and his eyes darted around the room. “They are under attack.”

“They are,” Jake said. His heart pounded against his chest. Would the dwarves send aid? They had suffered many losses already, and the dungeon spawn threat was far from finished. “Any assistance you can give them would be deeply welcome.”

Ardic’s brow furled. “The threat remains. This Transcendent Destroyer… How likely is it that it will return soon?”

Jake and Luther exchanged glances. That was an impossible question to answer as it stood, yet how much aid the dwarves could risk sending would hinge on the answer.

Luther eventually broke the silence. “I am unsure, my lord. The Destroyer appears several times in our records as a great and terrible danger. However, it is an infrequent one. I suspect we shall not hear from that foe for some time.”

Ardic turned and stared at the wall. “I must look after my people. They are my responsibility now.”

A pit formed in Jake’s stomach. Shit hit the fan, and everyone looked only for themselves. Bloody typical.

Ardic continued, quieter than before. “When you came to me with your suggestion, I dismissed it out of hand. Had you—both of you—not disobeyed my orders, my people would be dead. The world is changing, and we cannot endure alone.”

Jake blinked. “You’ll help them?”

“Luther, you’ll lead an expeditionary force through the portal. Take the Ring of Communication. If Valbort falls under attack, we may need to recall you. Jake, I believe you can craft us spells to return directly to our portal?”

A portion of the weight upon Jake’s shoulders lifted. Good news, at long last. “Gladly. I am at your disposal.”

Ardic turned back around and bowed his head. “Excellent. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we must discuss matters of state, including the Emperor’s visit tomorrow. You should rest. Orlanda, you as well.”

Orlanda opened her mouth only to be silenced by a glare from Luther. They wanted the room to themselves. Understanding dawned across her face, and she hurried out.

The Emperor’s visit. Jake bit his lip. Had Gramok told them? If they were to be allies, there had to be trust. That meant the truth, no matter how painful. Ardic stared at him expectantly.

A dark void filled Jake’s chest. His hands clenched up into fists and he swallowed. “The Emperor is coming for me.”

“I am aware of your connection,” Ardic said flatly, obscuring whatever his true thoughts were about the matter. “Your situation is… unfortunate.”

Understatement of the century. Were they afraid of him? How many more knew? Jake swallowed hard. A Hero and son of the Emperor. How did that stack up against saving their lives? ”Thank you.”

Ardic’s stare intensified, and Luther added his as well.

He’d overstayed his welcome. “Lord Tonvalbortdelan, Mage-Commander.” Jake bowed from the waist and strode out of the council chamber and out of the keep.

“Hey.”

He turned. Orlanda was leaning against the wall, her face scrunched up into a sheepish expression. What did she want now? He scowled and resumed walking. It had been a long day. He didn’t need to be shouted at again for something he couldn’t control.

She sprinted up alongside him. “Thanks for saving our asses.”

Funny how people’s tunes changed once he proved useful. He kept walking, pointedly looking forward.

“Look… I’m sorry, okay?”

Jake scoffed. “Apology accepted. We done now?”

Silence. Doubt gnawed at his insides. Could he really blame her? How well would he have handled being thrown into the army, forced to fight for his home, and then being confronted by an undying being from a group that wiped out the city of his ancestors?

No better than she had, that was for sure. He came to a stop and his shoulders slumped. It wasn’t really about that. “It’s fine.” He looked away, unable to meet her gaze. “You really want to be a Spellcrafter?”

She shuffled awkwardly. “You’re not staying with us, are you?”

“No.” His gut twisted. It was impossible to deny how useful a Spellcrafter would be, even a lowly skilled one. It was her life to risk, if that was what she chose. “You want to be a Spellcrafter, knowing the price? Then you be a Spellcrafter.”

Hope lit up her eyes. “Will you teach me?”

“I have… business here tomorrow, and I leave when that is over. But I will teach you what I can before then. Let’s head back to the portal room.”

Sleep would have to wait a little longer. What a shame. Tomorrow couldn’t come late enough.

***

A crushing weight pressed down on Cara’s shoulders as she slunk into the ranger den. Aidan, Nola, and Kegan were gathered around a table, playing dice. As usual, Aidan’s pile of seeds was the largest.

You can do this, Cara lied to herself. “Alright, squad, hope you had a good night’s sleep, because we’ve got a mission to complete.”

Said out loud, it didn’t sound half as leadership-y as it had in her head.

Aidan and Nola turned and stood up straight. Kegan rolled the dice again. Double trees. He grinned from ear to ear and looked up.

The smile faded. He followed the others’ gazes and jumped to attention. “Sorry, Prowler!”

Nola smirked. “Hope you’re more alert than that down in the Forest.”

Prowler. Cara’s stomach squirmed at the word. “You can still call me Cara, Kegan. And Nola—really?”

Nola tried and failed to put away her smirk. “Sorry, Prowler.”

Cara rolled her eyes. “This point forward, mind on the job! You took the potion?”

A grimace replaced Nola’s smirk. “Yeah. Stealthiest Identify in the Forest, reporting for duty.”

Even after all these years, Cara’s stomach lurched just thinking about that distilled bitterness. “Thank you. I know just how awful it tastes.”

Cara breathed in deeply. She wasn’t that stupid little kid anymore. She’d traveled, explored ancient ruins, fought dangerous creatures. Her heart twisted into a knot. She’d killed people.

And now she had to lead, or more people were going to die. Gramok had given her a few pointers and promised she’d pick it up quickly, but that promise was looking pretty damned hollow about now.

“The dungeon spawn are marshaling. We’re going to find out why, and how to stop them. Nola, you’re our eyes—you’re up front. Kegan, skirmish like only you can. We get in over our heads, you draw them off and disappear. Regroup with us if you can, head home if you can’t.”

He smiled and nodded. “Yes, sir!”

Cara paused. That left only Aidan, who had the most vital job of all. “Aidan, you’re my second in command. Please, please, please tell me when I forget something important.”

Aidan tilted his head and stroked his hand through his long hair. “What sort of things?”

“Spells. Tactics. People. Anything, really. I trust your judgment—when you see me screwing up, tell me.”

He bowed his head. “As you wish.”

She led them down into the Forest and Nola took the lead. The mission was frustratingly simple—find out as much as they could.

It was slow going with Nola setting the pace, but better safe than sorry. As they’d feared, the corrupted trees completely encircled Tolabar, and they were more tightly spaced now. Any attempt to break through would have to defeat several of them.

Following the line of corrupted trees, they came to the spot where the dungeon spawn had gathered. Hundreds of dungeon spawn of varying sizes and types, all just waiting. All except for the dryads.

They danced through the Forest, sucking the life out from the ground beneath their feet. Nola Identified four more of them—Airleas the Ruinous, Caylin the Noxious, Finvarra the Lost, and Onora the Forlorn. Five dryads, each individually named.

Wood elven names, at that. What did it mean?

That was a question for wiser heads than Cara’s. Get the information and get everyone home safe. That was her job, and she wasn’t going to fuck it up.

Having scouted the circle around Tolabar twice and surveying the dungeon spawn camp for a long while, she ordered the squad back to Tolabar.

An air of weariness hung over the group as they headed home. Even without the dryads, that many dungeon spawn could overwhelm the rangers. The village’s food stores were far from unlimited. The area left in which to hunt and forage could only sustain them for so long.

Vines coiled tighter and tighter around Cara’s insides. Sooner or later, they’d have to fight a battle they couldn’t win. What could she possibly do to change that?

She should have stayed with Jake. That was why she’d left, wasn’t it? To make a difference?

Not to see the world like she’d always wanted to.

Pain twisted in her gut. Tomorrow, Jake would face the Emperor alone.