As it turned out, he’d missed a great deal. Seven full days had passed while he slept, and during that time significant changes had reshaped the beast kin of the Shirgrim Mountains.

  The Druskin, for one, had united their clans. Each of the War Lords of the three clans allied with the Haikini were elevated to kings that ruled much larger domains. All those that joined the Graysouls were made to swear fealty to one of the kings. Both sides swore to meet once a year to trade, negotiate, and feast in order to maintain a lasting alliance.

  The Culling Blade, which had been broken but not altogether destroyed, was dealt with as well. Gorb and Niamh oversaw its final destruction, both creatures lending their considerable mana to empower a group of nineteen Druskin and Haikini High Priestesses. The evil weapon was finally melted to slag under the combined might of so many casters, its remnants buried deep in the mountainside.

  Afterward, Gorb had left to retrieve the carriage they’d covered in briars. Mags spent every minute she wasn’t training with Yuze learning from the Haikini and Druskin warriors. She happily reported that her bowmanship, her skill with the spear and axe, and even her woodcraft had all improved.

  Of all the party members, only Ashurai had suffered greatly from the battle. Though not told precisely how, Mags informed Marek that the Basari had expended much of his power during the fight, and that he’d done so to save her and Yuze.

  When Gorb finally returned with the carriage the following morning, the golemite invited Marek and Mags to continue their journey to the sacred city of Domhan Morga. Marek wanted to get back to Mirrin as quickly as possible now that his primary task had been completed, but since the golemite city was but two weeks away, and they’d yet to secure the last of the four reagents, he’d agreed to go.

  The Haikini nobility gathered around the carriage as the group prepared to depart. Rishgan, the son of Rifga, made a fine speech. Though his father had fallen in the battle, Rishgan insisted none should mourn the passing of the noble Haikini. “War Lord Rifga took a risk in trusting you, and it paid off tenfold. My father, and all those that fell in the war, will be honored next year during the meeting of the clans. It would please the Haikini if you come and celebrate with us. For now, accept these gifts.”

  He presented Gorb with a collection of gemstones. The golemite exalted in the gift, plucking an egg-sized sapphire from the collection and tossing it in its mouth. To the horror of the Haikini, Gorb crushed the gem to dust and consumed it on the spot. A flush of mana surrounded Gorb’s body, and then, miraculously, it grew half a foot in size. Seeing the gem was not wasted after all, the Haikini cheered.

  Yuze received a bo staff of ironwood, enchanted and nearly indestructible.

  Ashurai accepted a powerful bone dagger to add to his already-sizable collection of blades. The enchantment laid upon the dagger was more than a little impressive. Each time Ashurai struck an enemy down, it would collect a portion of their mana. This would, in time, allow the weapon to increase in power and evolve alongside the warrior.

  The Haikini gave Niamh a collection of feathers, stones, and bits of colorful ore. A tiny necklace had been crafted for her as well. Made of finely spun gold and decorated with pearls, Niamh considered it a perfect shiny and put it on immediately.

  “To the warrior Mags, we replace the bow that was broken in our service,” Rishgan said. Mags accepted the item and blushed furiously at all the attention. “May your aim always be as true as your heart.”

  When the War Lord withdrew to retrieve one final gift, Mags sidled up to Marek. It wasn’t hard to know what she wanted. Activating Empath’s Gaze, he read her the description of the bow.

  ***

  Item Name: Horned Bow of the Beastkin

  Description: Crafted with the mana dense horns of Alpha Shirgrim Elk, this enchanted war bow is peerless among the beastkin.

  Quality: Exceptional

  Properties: Impervious to all environmental conditions. Greatly increased range, arrow speed, and damage. Attunement to the wielder Marigold Strongtower grants the passive buff Steady Hands.

  Steady Hands: Aim and firing speed are aided by an unwavering calmness that steadies the archer’s hands.

  ***

  Mags’ eyes widened further and further until she squealed in delight. The Haikini relished her excitement, but then all fell silent when Tessin Lin approached Marek last of all, her arms clutching a folded garment.

  “This is for you,” the girl said quietly. “For helping me and my people even though you didn’t have to. Thank you, Marek.”

  Rishgan’s voice boomed. “To the Remnant Mage, we give a cloak of the finest weaving. Drakescale and Fey Silk combined, you will not find its equal. May it protect you for years to come.”

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  The gathered crown roared when Marek threw the cloak around his shoulders and fastened it in place. The scales gave off a subtle sheen that obscured and confused the eye. The inside of the cloak was smooth leather. It fell past his knees, giving Marek a dark and regal look.

  Marek thanked Rishgan and Tessin Lin. All waved goodbye, and Gorb boomed out a final farewell. The caravan then mounted up. Flanked by a small honor guard of spirits Marek had been encouraged to bind from the graveyard, they left the camp behind. The Quartz Road greeted them as old friends.

  Greedily, Marek assessed his cloak at last, eager to see what he’d find.

  ***

  Item Name: Dire Drake Mantle

  Description: Woven from the hide of a Dire Drake, infused with the thread of Fey Silk, few cloaks in existence are its equal.

  Quality: Masterful

  Properties: Fireproof. Greater resistance to slashing and piercing damage. Willpower increased by +8. Attunement to the bearer Marek Kaiteras grants the passive buff Nightwalker.

  Nightwalker: A minor increase to concealment during the day. When the sun falls or when hiding in deep shadow, the cloak blends with the darkness to make detection nearly impossible through visual means.

  ***

  “Principalities,” he whispered. “The Attribute increase alone makes this priceless. I can’t wait till nightfall to test it out.”

  Mags rode up beside him and winked. “Nice cloak!” she called over the sound of hoofbeats. “Though a bit melodramatic, if you ask me.”

  He rolled his eyes and earned a laugh. The two chatted like the old friends they were, and then, after a time, the steady pace of travel consumed them. Marek let his imagination run loose. For the first time in weeks, his mind was his own again. His curiosity and hunger for knowledge was back, and he couldn’t wait to get to Domhan Morga. There, he’d seek out the finest materials he could acquire and dive into sigilcraft once more.

  Soon, he’d rank up his secondary Class. At Journeyman, he could acquire another Skill and would be capable of producing items of much higher quality. Items that could benefit his and Mags’ return journey.

  Marek’s daydreaming ended abruptly when a blast of energy exploded at the head of the caravan. Marek’s hackles rose, and he drew his sword on reflex. A dozen or more soldiers charged the group, their armor distinctly Casteran. Marek spotted two mages as well, one gathering a large sphere of mana.

  Gorb lay on its side, the straps of the carriage torn to shreds. Smoke trailed up from the creature, and the road was strewn with the dark rock of its body. Apparently the other mage had targeted Gorb in the initial attack.

  Marek sent an order to his Defender Squad Leader, and the spirit led four of its companions into the oncoming Casterans. They managed to get into position between Gorb and the attackers, but the second mage hurled a sphere of roiling fire and ice that collided with the Squad Leader’s spectral shield. Upon detonating, the Spell destroyed every one of Marek’s spirits.

  Gods, they’re strong! Allon, attack the mage if you can. Use Dark Visions to get close enough. Sending orders to the second of his Squad Leaders, Marek prayed the spirits might do more good this time around. And while his daemon flew into action, Marek leapt from Ember’s back and triggered Wraith Step. Twice he teleported, entering the range of one of the Casterans.

  The man betrayed no sign of fear as he closed with Marek. His body pulsed blue, and then he dashed past Marek’s attack in a blink. Appearing beyond Marek’s guard, he thrust his spear at the mage’s ribs.

  Another Wraith Step spared Marek, but two more of the soldiers hemmed him in. A bow twanged, and an arrow sank into one Casteran’s chest. He stumbled to a knee.

  Allon shrieked in Marek’s mind and returned. The mage had destroyed his familiar with ease, it seemed.

  The Casteran soldiers both activated Abilities at the same time, one igniting his spear in orange flame while the other slashed the air and sent a volley of mana darts hurtling in Marek’s direction. He teleported out of range and assessed the situation from a distance.

  Ashurai fought a losing battle against one soldier. The warrior’s skill remained, but his attacks were sluggish.

  Yuze danced between two soldiers, staff a blur as he worked to defend against rapid spear thrusts. Mags fired her bow from Cinnabar’s back yet only managed to harass the enemy. Marek had but a single spirit left standing. Tinrick, his champion he’d resummoned, clashed with an enemy sword bearer. Even as he watched, the Casteran triggered an Ability, and Tinrick’s body was cut in half by an empowered slash.

  Over a dozen Casterans swarmed the caravan. Only one man had fallen, and already Marek’s party was worse for wear. These were no common foot soldiers. They were high-leveled and far too powerful to underestimate. He suddenly regretted his choice to put off choosing his new Abilities. After the madness, Marek had simply been too afraid to do so.

  When a form entered his periphery, Marek teleported twenty feet to one side. Upon reappearing, he raised a hand and sent a volley of Phantom Bolts at the caster. A barrier lit up as it absorbed his attacks. Leering, the man swung his staff in Marek’s direction. Glittering like silver thread, a mesh net flew through the air and surrounded Marek. He activated Wraith Step, but nothing happened.

  Marek had been silenced. Fear lanced his heart as he watched the mage face down his friends, hands raised and mana gathering in a small storm between them. He gripped his sword and dashed toward the man, but then a voice as deep as the mountain itself boomed.

  “Enough!” Gorb shouted. “You will not have him or others!” The golemite, standing in the center of the skirmish, spread its arms wide. Gorb clapped two massive hands together, and a burst of mana enveloped the creature.

  The mage pointed at Gorb and shouted, “Kill the stone man!”

  Before the Casterans could reach the golemite, Gorb pressed the tips of its fingers to the road. A ripple of mana surged through the road, and as if sinking into sludge, all of the Casterans fell waist-deep into the ground. They writhed and cursed, but not even the mage could free himself.

  Panting, Gorb called out in its rumbling voice, “Yuze! Use the waystone! Use it now and take them far from here!”

  The monk frowned in confusion before shaking himself. “I… Yes, you’re right, Gorb. We will see you when the Principalities will it!”

  Yuze reached inside his robes, then traced a half-circle in the air. Strange symbols glowed in an arc around him. A shimmering wall of mana filled the arc, and as it dissolved, a swirling portal of light appeared in thin air. “Niamh and Gorb can take care of themselves! Ashurai, Marigold, Marek, come quickly!”

  Confused but unwilling to stall, Marek ran to Ember and left the furious mage behind. The Casteran, apparently silenced as well as immobile, gripped his staff impotently. “The Death Mage will sense your travel! He will find you, Kaiteras!”

  Marek fell in behind Ashurai a moment before the warrior disappeared through the portal. Mags had already ridden through. Sparing one last look at the golemite that had saved them, he entered the golden light, and the Quartz Road was no more.