“Don't forget, daemons aren't mindless creatures. They can speak, they can think and they're probably smarter than you! So obey Manfred's orders if you want to actually survive this!" – Manfred the Third, to his infamous marauders shortly before the Battle of Lyon in northern Murex.

  “Anna, keep your head down!” grunted Elizabeth as a wayward daemon leaped onto the wagon. A swipe from Petro’s sword cut off its grasping legs before Elizabeth kicked it off the wagon. The onslaught of foes was thinning. Strangely enough, the gates were untouched as they approached. Guardie and milizia ran past them toward the temple. The gates opened hastily as they rode through. They kept going and going, the city getting further and further away before it barely peaked on the horizon. The wagon was durable and sturdy, faster too.

  Despite this, they were starting to get nauseous.

  “Can we stop for a moment? I’m going to be sick,” murmured Annabelle.

  “I agree,” said Leo.

  Etheros slowed the wagon and pulled off the road.

  “We can’t stay long. We know not if any daemons are still out there,” said Etheros. Elizabeth helped Annabelle down. Leo and Petro followed.

  “I’ll keep an eye out,” offered Petro.

  Everyone stopped. They needed to gather their bearings. Leo’s mind kept flashing to that last moment when he and Avella had locked eyes. He placed his head in his hands and murmured, “I had one job. One simple task, guard Avella. That was it, my first and simplest of tasks. I failed her. I failed my guardia.”

  “She sacrificed herself so we could get away,” said Petro.

  “I know, but . . . surely there was something else I . . . we could have done?”

  “What could you have done, Leo?” grumbled Elizabeth. “You would have just gotten yourself killed.”

  Leo stammered, “That’s true, but—”

  “If it were your fault, I would let you know,” Elizabeth said, glaring at him.

  “It was part of the plan,” said Etheros. Leo’s head tilted, and Elizabeth’s eyebrow raised. “There was no way we could go anywhere with that monster on our heels. Avella has a part to play and would be too good of an opportunity to pass up.”

  “Why didn’t you mention that before?” sputtered Leo.

  “We only drew it up a short time ago, and your reactions had to be sincere.”

  Leo frowned. “Is there any way you can elaborate on this?”

  “Not ’til we get to the Island City.”

  Leo grumbled and walked up to Etheros until they were face to face. “I’m going to tell you the same thing I told Avella. Going forward, we mustn’t keep secrets, especially important ones. We are all in this together; we must be in the same boat.”

  “More like the same wagon,” quipped Annabelle.

  Elizabeth raised an arm. “You guys hear that?”

  Everyone went quiet. There it was, a low groaning noise.

  It came from the wagon.

  Instantly they drew weapons, and Elizabeth and Leo slowly approached it—Leo on one side, Elizabeth on the other. Something was moving under the cloth and bags. They nodded before Leo moved the fabric in one swift motion, and Elizabeth brought down her guisarme. She stopped in the nick of time.

  She almost stabbed Martin.

  He looked dazed, and his forehead was bruised and bleeding. His acolyte robes were tattered and ripped.

  Leo shook his head. “Martin?”

  Martin slowly sat up, his vision coming into focus. “Leo? What happened?”

  “I think we should be asking you that.”

  “Are we still at the temple?”

  “No, you idiot!” Elizabeth pointed around. “Does this look like the temple to you?”

  “Easy, Liz, he’s wounded,” chided Annabelle.

  She rolled her eyes. “A scrape, he will be fine, and you know it.”

  Martin ignored the banter as he stumbled out of the wagon. He took a look around, groaned, and rubbed his head.

  “Seriously. Martin, what happened to you? Do you remember anything at all?” asked Leo.

  Martin squinted. “Yes. It’s coming back to me. I was behind Padre Angelos when everything broke down into chaos. I saw him get taken down, and I ran. Something flung me backward, and everything went black.”

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  Etheros was grim. “So they captured Salvatore too. That is most unfortunate. All the more reason for us to get to the Island City.”

  “We’re taking him with us?” asked Elizabeth.

  “We don’t have time to go back, nor is it safe if we did. He’s better off with us. Besides, he’s technically a sacerdozio acolyte. He’d be heading to the Island City soon anyway.”

  “I guess that’s why Padre Angelos gave me this,” said Martin as he pulled out a pistol. It looked elegant and intricate, with many moving parts. It shimmered faintly of star iron.

  “Do you even know how to use that thing?” muttered Elizabeth.

  “Of course I do,” snapped Martin.

  “You’re going to slow us down. You have no idea what you’re in for.”

  “Look, I didn’t ask to be a part of this!”

  Etheros’ glowing eyes flared. “Enough! None of us wanted it to be this way. We all have our qualms and grievances at this present moment regarding the situation with ourselves and with each other. But fighting like this does not help anybody. Like it or not, we are stuck together until we get to the Island City. We must act like grown men and women and not let these squabbles get the better of us.”

  “Etheros is right,” added Petro. “We have much to do and little time. I suggest we get going before it gets too dark.”

  “Fine,” Elizabeth said, dragging Annabelle to the wagon.

  “What is her deal anyway?” asked Petro. “Why doesn’t she like either of you?” He pointed at both Leo and Martin.

  “It’s a long story,” said Leo.

  Martin couldn’t even look at Leo. “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to cause problems. I didn’t want to be here.”

  “I’ll look after you. Just try and mind your tongue around Elizabeth, will you?”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  ……….

  They rode upon the wagon for hours, deep through the night. Everyone rested as well as they could in such cramped quarters. Dawn broke, the sun peeking through the cloth of their covering. Everyone groaned at the unwelcome radiance. The countryside seemed serene, unaware of the growing crisis afflicting these lands.

  Etheros told them they had passed several small towns. They traveled on the outskirts, lest their local temples were under assault by the vile daemons. They found themselves by the Inner Ocean coast by midday. They rode north on the main road, beginning the long trek up the coast. A simple path that everyone knew would likely be anything but.

  Etheros called back, “By tomorrow; we should be passing through Ventoso, the City of Artisans.”

  Annabelle lit up. “Ooh, I hear it is quite a lovely city. A pity we will only be getting a glimpse.”

  Petro turned to her and said, “You’re the woman who left the party the other night. Just as I and my kin showed up. You were in pain?”

  Annabelle’s brow furrowed. “I was? Why do you bring it up? It’s already embarrassing.”

  “I wanted to apologize. We didn’t mean to cause you discomfort.”

  Annabelle paused and said, “Don’t worry about it. It’s hardly your fault. That’s how it’s always been with me.”

  “Can we stock up on food when we get to Ventoso?” asked Martin. Leo had offered some of his since Martin had not planned to be on this journey. But that would only go so far.

  “We shall see,” Etheros said. “We don’t know if the daemons have assailed their temple yet. And Ventoso is much bigger than Tressviae.”

  Martin nodded. “Indeed. Let us hope they haven’t arrived yet.”

  “I hope they did,” grumbled Elizabeth.

  Martin tilted his head. “Why?”

  “Because, if they have already come and gone, it’s the last place we’ll see a daemon now.”

  Leo nodded. “That’s a good point. And it just further encourages our haste.”

  “Are you sure?” Martin asked, scratching his head.

  Elizabeth leaned up against the wagon. “Trust me; I know from bitter experience how to avoid places that could be trouble. Be grateful you didn’t grow up in the North, scholar.”

  “So, you are from the North?” Petro asked Elizabeth.

  “I grew up there. What of it?”

  “Do you remember where in the North your family hailed from?”

  Elizabeth thought for a moment before shaking her head. “They died when I was eight. Slaughtered by Maelim. All I know was that I must have been in one of the more southern kingdoms since if it was closer to the Spire. I doubt I ever would have gotten out of there.”

  “The north is a tragedy of fate. It is amazing that humans still attempt to tame it.”

  Elizabeth smirked. “Humans are persistent.”

  “So are Benelim. But we have the sense to recognize when something is untenable. Perhaps it is our Soulsight that gives us an edge.”

  “But didn’t the Benelim also have a kingdom up in the north?” asked Martin.

  Petro’s gaze grew distant. “Long ago. Realm of the White Birches is what it was called in your tongue. It was abandoned centuries ago, before Adam. Now it is only ruins and infested with Maelim. King Aloysius still laments what happened to his people. He languishes in the Realm of Terra to this day. I heard he was violent and warlike, eager to reclaim his realm. His lifesong is full of both light and darkness in this matter. When I met him, though, his aggression had given way to sadness.”

  “His story reflects many in the north,” said Elizabeth.

  “What do you mean by ‘Lifesong’?” asked Annabelle.

  “Lifesongs. The stories Benelim tell of each other—it’s a way they recount their racial and personal histories,” said Martin.

  “Indeed, but it is so much more,” said Petro. “Have you been to one of our realms?”

  Martin shook his head and said, “I’m afraid not; I hope to someday. I gather knowledge, though, and Murex is on the border of the Realm of the Golden Wood.”

  Elizabeth huffed. “You’re from Murex? That explains a lot.”

  “My family was from Murex. They moved south after the Imperium sacked the realm. You’re not the only one who’s had turmoil uproot them.”

  “What did you mean when you said that lifesongs were more than what Martin said?” asked Leo, trying to steer the conversation away from further tension.

  Petro turned to Leo. “Lifesongs are a major part of Benelim culture. We Benelim are long-lived; some think we are immortal, but I cannot say for sure. To keep melancholy and weariness at bay, we sought a way to remember past deeds and encourage those in the present. All Benelim believe in Excelsior, ever upward. We are always improving, always being better than we were yesterday. The longer a Benelim’s lifesong, the more revered and respected he is, for it means that they have continued going ever and upward. The greatest of us have lifesongs so long they are broken into pieces to make them more manageable.”

  Annabelle leaned in. “Fascinating.”

  “We typically recite lifesongs at birthdays or other special occasions. The longest lifesong belongs to High King Ioannis.” Petro sighed and continued, “If my works are a quarter as good as his, I would be happy.”

  Leo leaned back, trying to find a better place for his neck. “I think we all hope for such a legacy. Who wouldn’t want their story to last the ages?”

  “Oh, forget all that,” grumbled Elizabeth, turning away. “I just want to get to the Island City safely. This isn’t some grand adventure, and there’s no glory. We’re just trying to survive. That’s all there is in life.”

  Etheros frowned. “It appears you might be correct after all, Elizabeth. I cannot feel any Godshards in Ventoso.” Elizabeth gave Martin a smug look. “Don’t feel elated.”

  “Why ever not?”

  Leo’s eyes narrowed as he remembered what had happened in Raveno. At least there he could kill the creatures before they spread. This time, however . . . Leo paled.