Finally, they returned to Rotheburg. When the foggy threshold from the War Plane was crossed back into the city and into a world that Max was familiar with, he breathed a heavy sigh of relief that came up from deep within him. He wanted to collapse right there on the nearest stair, but Phaedra still needed help. She was certainly not out of the rough of it yet.

  They emerged from the deep passage below the tavern and entered into a busy lunch time. Everyone stopped eating and looked over as the door that led only down into the War Plane opened. A couple of burlier figures tensed and reached for the nearest sharp object. Enchoron was there, eating his morning cereals. Sitting across from him was another familiar face, chowing down on a similar sized bowl of the cereals. The familiar face of his friend Mathew smiled up at him. Eating a small bowl of cereals? They were separated for a while, the man get the change of habits after all.

  Enchoron and Mathew both rose from their meals, discarding their kerchiefs into the bowls to denote doneness. Pelos then came through the door. He made eye contact with Enchoron and took a step back cautiously.

  The robed man obviously was ready for this moment with a disarming set of statements that Max had trouble following. Some bits of another language he did not know mixed with a political complexity he could not understand. Pelos then stepped into the tavern and motioned to a staffer for some fresh grub.

  Max continued with assisting Phaedra until they got to the chamber that was hers previously. The innkeeper was quick to help them, seeing the terrible state that she was in. They laid her down onto the bed and Enchoron immediately started reviewing her injuries. Max also noticed with astonishment when Mathew leaned over and started to examine the wounds. Mathew described the wound and its condition with medical precision. He was learning, just like he said he would. He made that promise to himself and to any in the cosmos that cared to listen, he would not let others suffer the fate that Brian had.

  Max left the room with Phaedra in capable hands. Finally, he would have a chance to rest without worry. He leaned against the hallway just outside her room. Finally, Mathew exited and with wisdom of years that were really only months, lay his eyes upon his friend from the hamlet. The two opened arms to each other and embraced each other in a friendly hug. It was no timid or ginger affair; there was a genuine tone to the reunion.

  Mathew found it within him to finally speak, “My friend, it’s been too long. So much has happened since I last saw you.” He held up several vestments to the rays of sunlight that came through the towers small windows. “I have learned much of the outside, just as you did. I follow the Tender of Every Wound now. There are others I respect, but she demands my prayers. In return, she gives me gifts.”

  Max was impressed, “I am glad to hear that you have found a calling for your heart. I still search for the calling. My travels have made me conflicted. All I have learned now is that I can choose a calling of my own.”

  “You are still young; I’m a step ahead of the game from you right now. You were ahead the rest of the time since your first departure. Do you know much of the specific gods and goddesses? Do you know that I was saying I worship Gabriella?” Mathew pulled the shimmering vestments back done to where they hung on his now much smaller belt.

  “I know some of the gods. I did not think my route was with them, so I have not taken to learning the details. Please, tell me, are your gifts going to be able to help Phaedra? She means a great deal to me.”

  Mathew nodded grimly, “I can save her, especially with Enchoron’s help. It will take time, her wounds have become infected and the weapon that inflicted the wound was of some strange origin. A form of corrosion of her skin has set in that I have only rarely read of. Give me time and I will bring her back to you.” He gazed upon his tired friend with concern, “Go get some rest. We will get you when her condition improves.”

  Max did not even remember the walk to the bedroom. He did not remember removing his garments. All he remembered was how comfortable the bed felt as he started to pass into a deep sleep that he had no luxury for any time since they left this place. This city, the city of Rotheburg that almost was a second home to him now.

  He started to enter into a fascinating and detailed dream. He walked along a fantastically winding path. It weaved around back and forth on itself for no apparent reason. He followed that path, and there were also others that did the same. The sky was filled with slow moving, visible swirls of wind. After walking the path for some time, it terminated at the entrance to a vast unfathomable city. This city could only exist in dreams. The dimensions and geometries of the walls and the towers that poked high up into the sky would collapse by the rules of science in the Old World. Max was amazed that he was even able to think this much throughout this dream. In these things, usually someone was only a witness, this must be lucid dreaming.

  A figure stood at the gate to the city. It was a hooded figure that glowed with spiritual power. He stepped forward to block Max’s path into the city. In a foreboding voice, the man spoke, “I have sent unto your door a messenger. You must trust him. The news he brings will astonish you. Come with this messenger to the place where your fates will be realized. You shall forever be remembered by this world as a force that stood for what must be done. For...”

  Max was ripped away from his dream and was covered in a cold sweat. He felt along his smooth jawline and wiped away the sweat with the thick quilt that comforted him from the cool chamber. Another soft tapping on the door filled the room with a sense of sleepy hazed confusion. And then another soft tapping followed by an incoherent whisper tied the dream that was just floating about to something solid. Max quickly threw on a long garment and pulled open the door just enough to see into the hall.

  “I come bearing urgent news regarding your friend, Phaedra,” shifty eyes under a large hat looked back and forth down the hall. His presence was so close to the door in such a way to insist upon entry. He did not look large enough to actually force his way in. No. Instead this man’s way seemed to be to simply nudge in his intention with the use of his body. Max opened the door just enough to let the suspicious man into the room. He wore traveling cloak and rugged boots.

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  “What is it? Is it some news of her condition? Tell me.” Max felt his heart racing as he thought of his mentor and dear friend.

  “Brace yourself. This news is not exactly what you are probably expecting. You see, I am a messenger for her employers, but I have another agenda. This agenda is why I bring you this,” the man pulled a wrapped scroll sealed with wax out of his cloak and handed it to Max. “I’ll wait in the hall if you would prefer privacy.”

  Max shook his head while looking at the sealed scroll. The wax seal was dominated by a shield with a sword and taut snake crossed in front of it. He regarded that curiously for just a moment before reaching for a nearby knife upon the desk to break the wax. It snapped with a satisfying sound before it unrolled. He grabbed it and held it taut to look over its contents.

  Phaedra,

  This letter waits the return of your voyage with our query. Be careful that no harm comes to him. We need him very soon. Elements of the puzzle are moving into place, and we now know the forces that seek to change the world. They are a prophetic and heretical cult that seeks to resurrect Sevaliki amongst other things.

  That was the dead god. The god that he learned was one of the Nobilis, the ancient pantheon created by the first god. He was a god of wilderness and nature. He was a god of predators, and more brutal followers of that god saw his rule as survival of the fittest, true nature ruling over all other laws.

  The letter continued:

  It is now that we must instruct you to carry out the direst of duties. You must take Max, use whatever reason you need to. Take him away from Rotheburg and away from Enchoron. He and the Wizard’s Council would not appreciate our strategies. You will use him as a bargaining chip with this cult. Another letter will arrive with further instructions on the bargaining you must do and what, specifically we seek. Fortunately for us, this cult still sees Max as having a place in their prophecy. We must use this to gain advantage.

  With haste,

  Lord Candreale

  Max looked up at the messenger in shock. He felt sweat forming behind his ears and the small hairs on his neck standing on end. Was this a trick? Why was this messenger giving him such a damning message? He focused his empathic powers on the man and waited for him to speak.

  “I am a member of the cult he speaks of, the Daefidian Cult. I’ve come here on command of our holy leader, Daefindel. He hopes that you would speak with him about the future and about what could be your place in it.”

  Max kept the knife casually in his hand and moved it into ready position but to his side, out of sight of the messenger. “Why should I trust you or travel with you to see this, Daefindel? His men have tried to kill me before and further members of this cult have been less than useful in providing me with information in the past.”

  The messenger took a step back and slowly kept both hands out to show no acts of aggression were to follow the announcements. “You know that all the friends that you have made seek to use you. You know that you have to make choices for yourself to survive in this world. My master would like nothing more than to give you the greatest path to choose from. You could be one of the cult, one who saves this world from the future perils that shall doom it. Sacrifices must be made, but these necessary actions will bring about a golden age. I am unarmed and you may bring what you wish.”

  Max could not believe that Phaedra was planning on betraying him. Of all the concepts that faced him now, that was the one that he understood the least. The cult aside, would she follow the orders in this letter over the bond that had formed between them. Was that all just an act? He didn’t think so. Enchoron gave him such free will and taught him anything he wished to learn. His childhood friend, Mathew, would not hurt him. Pater may have sacrificed his life for them to escape the Spire. Pelos did not seem to have a harmful agenda; his was more of a curious one.

  He was sure that Pelos would want to follow on if he chose to join the Daefindel cult. He did not seem to have an interest in the political maneuvering of any of the sides. His interest was also not in Max himself but in his power of emotion. That lack of connection could sometimes bother Max, but in this case, it might help for what he might have to do.

  The idea of this cult and its grandiose plans did intrigue him. How better could he learn of the ways in which the world might change than from those that wished to do the changing? They would not harm him. It was obvious from the beginning that what they wanted from him was his aid, not his demise. He was not a hindrance to their plans but an aid. “I’ll come with you. I think that one of my friends will insist on coming along. The man from the capital, Atras, will accompany us.”

  “That is acceptable to Daefindel. I will wait for you and your friend on the cul-de-sac just before the bridge out of the city. I suggest you don’t spread word of your travels to loudly.” The messenger folded his hands into his cloak just after opening the door and slinking down the hallway like a grudging messenger readying himself for a long day of work.

  Max pulled out a bracelet that was given to him by Phaedra and fondled it gently in one hand. “You couldn’t betray me and give me over as a simple bargaining chip. I know you better than Lord Candreale,” as he uttered the name, he was in the process of setting down the knife and glancing one last time at the scroll before rolling it up. “Candreale... where have I heard that name before?”

  He then touched the ray gun lightly with his hand and briefly stroked it after brushing some debris off of it. “Enchoron, you have been a good teacher. What you taught me most of all is to make my own decision, so that is just what I am going to do.”

  He scrounged around his room to prepare himself. He took a quick break from that to go find Pelos. He was sitting by the fire in the tavern, his back to the wall, viewing all the other inhabitants as they came and went. A brief exchange of words with the capital raised gentleman and a near instantaneous agreement to arrangements and Max was back to his quiet, intense packing.

  He set a large back pack by the side of the door, ready and triple checked. He walked to Phaedra’s chamber carrying a case and a flower with him. Upon opening the door, Enchoron saw the flower and made it to his feet with no hesitation. He motioned for Mathew to stand. The three men nodded at each other as the two of them left the room. He put the container down on the end of the bed and the flower was laid in her open hand, petals towards her face.

  “I believe in you. I need to take my own path now. I know not when you will awaken, but I leave this for you to know one of the reasons I must travel. Your superiors are not kind to me. I think you are not like them.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead. It was drenched with cold sweat. Some color at least was showing on her cheeks again.

  He walked out of the room and addressed his two friends that courteously waited in the hall outside Phaedra’s room. “I have a few things I need to take care of just outside of town. I will be back before long to check on her and speak with you more, my friends.” He did his best to focus on the waves of emotion he was emitting. With his intense knowledge, he hoped he was doing a convincing job of making his words believable through his displayed feelings.

  It was a hop over to his room to throw on the bag and arm himself. He was outside the tavern and meeting up with Pelos. He was down the path leading towards the city exit. He wondered how long it would be before his friends looked in the case and read the contents on the scroll. Surely, then they would realize that it was not a short jaunt that Max was taking outside of the city. They might never see him again.