Chapter 3.22 — No Longer Home

They have a saying on Earth—home is where the heart is. Probably not the best thing to say to most medical practitioners. On Earth they move hearts around from one person to another in special refrigerated containers.

When I was younger, I searched for a home for a long time. Now I don’t know what I’d do with one if I found it. Maybe, just maybe, if you’re at home with yourself, you don’t need an external home. I wish more people learned this lesson.

It would save a lot of suffering.

                                                                                                      Excerpt from the Journal of the Emissary

Ninth of Striving 1142, Morning

It was a sight from a fantasy story. A princess of Melar, with an estranged household guard and her kidnapped husband’s were-owl familiar, on the back of a huge cart pulled by four horses, with a squirrel manamal, a kindred, a bear, a goat, a dog, a lizard, a spider the size of a really big house cat, a hawk (sitting on the bear’s leg at the moment), a beaver and a giant cube creature that defied any classification at all.

Chari was in a good mood. They were riding, instead of walking, which was nice for a change. They were going home, which was weird because it no longer felt like home. She would never be home again without Eric by her side. Wherever he was, that’s where she’d be. Someone had to keep him alive.

At last she would get to say goodbye to her friends in the palace, such as they were. When you were a princess, at least in Melar, people tended to keep a respectful distance. The girls she’d met growing up had been more politically aware than the boys, but as she got older even the boys fell into line. Jerish was probably more of a friend to her than any of them, and he wouldn’t be there. She wasn’t even sure she had anything in common with the people she’d shared her childhood with anymore. In truth, she hadn’t for a long time. She thought about those people then, the nobles she’d grown up around, and realized it wasn’t sad that she’d left them behind. Most of them were shallow, ambitious or just plain stupid. Perhaps she shouldn’t stay in the palace at all. She could stay with her team, outside the city somewhere, until Dahr came to find them. Then they would hop a ship to Gloomhearth and make their way to Xarinos.

Xarinos. A year ago she would have shivered at the thought, but now, part of her was looking forward to it. She wasn’t the same person. Sheba had tethered her and that had given her confidence. Eric was already there and apparently okay, which she didn’t understand, but accepted. Dahr had reassured her. He wouldn’t lead her there if he thought it was dangerous.

No, that’s not completely true. Dahr could be reckless. He stole the potions from Sheba’s temple, after all. Registered a guild without telling any of them. Dahr was a wild card—but she still trusted him with her life.

Anyway, hadn’t Dahr said he’d be coming with undead as well? Chari had already met one of the kindred, and Zephyr, at least, was nothing like Chari had thought a kindred would be. She had met the goddess Sheba herself, who was nothing like she’d expected. She had learned the Andarans weren’t what she’d always been told they were. Some of that learning came at the hands of Leta, the chamberlain at the palace in Rish, but most of it came from talking to Eric and especially Terrence’s father and mother.

She’d been carrying around an insane amount of misinformation for most of her life, and it had affected her judgment. In the future, she would be more open minded. She wouldn’t assume what she’d heard was what was true. Dahr seemed to work that way already. Ever-curious, willing to take risks, but also not assuming he knew everything. Kalutu was like that as well. She wondered if he got that from Dahr, or if he’d always been like that.

She looked around at her team, her team, and realized that she liked everyone there, except for one man. She had judged him for his reaction to Kalutu, but Kalutu himself had welcomed him. There was a lesson in that. She wondered, in the end, when the book of her life was written, how much of what she knew would have been taught to her by that stupid bird-man. She’d have resented the very idea if it weren’t so liberating. So maybe Sart wasn’t as bad as she had first thought. Maybe she was just defending Kalutu. After all, she’d known the guardsman from before and had never particularly disliked him.

“Guardsman Sart, a word please.”

Sart had been looking around at the countryside, but the moment she spoke his name, he stiffened, as if unsure what he might next be subjected to at her hands. Had she truly been so bad to him? No. He had been bad, she had reacted, that was different. And she had been in the right. Still, Kalutu thought he could learn. Maybe he could.

“I want to tell you a story, Sart.”

“A story, your highness?”

Chari chuckled. “Yes. You see, you judged Kalutu, and that’s the entire reason for our mutual animosity. Unless you have something else against me?”

Sart studied her. She had no idea what he was looking for. Maybe he was trying to determine how honest he dared be. She spoke, before he could.

“Cards on the table, Sart. All of them. If you have a problem with me, I want to hear it.”

Sart swallowed, visibly nervous. Chari knew that one simply didn’t talk that way to a princess though, of course, he already had. But the situation had changed, and Sart no longer had her father’s support.

“Your highness, I never had anything against you personally. There would have been no point. My freedom, even my very life could one day be in your hands. I was angry at the risks I felt you were taking with, well, what I saw as a possible threat to your safety. When you refused to see what I saw as reason, I judged you as immature, but that was the worst I ever thought of you.”

“And now?”

“You’ve changed. Or maybe I’ve changed. At least, I’m willing to admit I might have been wrong about Kalutu. He’s…not what I expected.”

Everyone had stopped now to listen to the conversation, all of them. Not that Chari minded an audience, but this was a weird audience by anyone’s standards.

Chari glanced over at Kalutu to see how he was taking it. She couldn’t tell of course. Kalutu’s emotions had always been hard to read.

“When I first arrived in Rish, Prince Eric told me the story of his first transition attempt. Have you heard it?”

“No, your highness. We arrived in Rish after that, and there was a lot going on, if you recall.”

“Oh, I recall. But anyway, Eric told me the story of how he chose Sheba on the night of his transition, entered his transition dream, in the way all nobles do, and was immediately surprised to find Dahr was there as well.”

“Wait, Prince Dahr was there? Like Prince Eric showed up in your transition dream?”

“Just so. And Eric felt he had to protect the boy, because Dahr was his brother.”

Sart looked confused. “Isn’t he a bastard?”

Chari could forgive him that reaction as she had felt much the same when she’d met Dahr. “He is. He’s also the one who summoned Kalutu.”

“What do you mean he summoned Kalutu?”

Chari chuckled. “Exactly what I said. He got tired of Eric defending him all the time, and summoned Kalutu because he wanted to help.”

“Did Dahr know magic?”

“Nope. Not even a little.”

“Then how did he summon Kalutu?”

“Hard to say really, though I suspect he’d already been tethered by George at that point, that’s Dahr’s god, and George had somehow arranged it.”

“Dahr’s god is named George?”

“It seems so, yes.”

“You’re not having me on?”

Chari laughed, a relaxed sound that seemed to put Sart at ease. “No, Sart. This is the story. It’s what happened. It’s the story you didn’t bother to seek out because you were too busy judging Kalutu. Anyway, Dahr summoned Kalutu in the Other Realm, and Kalutu returned from the Other Realm with Eric, who also brought back a holy shield.”

Sart shook his head. “But that’s impossible. At least, I’ve never heard of that happening.”

Chari nodded. “That’s the problem with judging things you don’t understand, Sart. I’d never heard of that happening either. Do you know why?”

“No.”

“Because no one had ever heard of that happening. It’d never actually happened before. No one had ever appeared in anyone else’s transition, no one had ever heard of Dahr or Eric’s class, and certainly, no one had ever heard of a were-owl familiar being summoned in the Other Realm and brought back to Thysandrika. Reality doesn’t seem to have any effect on Eric and Dahr.” Chari looked around the cart. “Or Kalutu apparently. When have you ever heard of a familiar having, not just a single familiar, but an entire family of them?”

“I haven’t,” admitted Sart.

“These aren’t just people. They’re not special because they’re royalty. I’m royalty and you don’t see anything like that happen to me.”

Kalutu interrupted her. “Didn’t Sheba herself make you look like High Priest Veloran before sending you on a holy quest?”

“What!” asked Sart. Chari could see the gears turning in his head. “Is that how you escaped me at the temple?”

“I don’t know,” said Chari. “I only know that everyone saw me as Veloran.”

“I escorted you home to the palace.”

“I don’t know who you escorted to the palace, but it wasn’t me.”

Sart seemed to be deep in thought, probably going through the entire event chain in his head. Then, realization lit his face.

“You swapped bodies…or appearances…or something. I saw Veloran as you. Everyone did. Everyone saw you as Veloran. That’s…that’s…”

“That’s what happens when you hang out with Eric and Dahr,” laughed Chari. “The point is, Kalutu came from another world, he was chosen by a god, Sheba herself trusts him, and he’s well, he’s Kalutu. He’s a good man, even if he’s a were-owl.”

She was looking at Kalutu when she said it and could swear he puffed out his chest. She stifled a laugh. Sometimes, he was just adorable.

“Kalutu, you never did tell us how you became a were-owl.”

“That’s true. I did not.”

“Would you share that story…or is it personal?”

Kalutu seemed to smile at her, or at least, she thought that’s what he was doing.

“Nothing is really personal to an owl. I was just an animal. Admittedly a hunter, a bird of prey, but an animal nonetheless. I didn’t get embarrassed. I didn’t really understand the concept of truth. Things were or they weren’t.”

Sart leaned forward. Chari noticed how intently his gaze was locked on Kalutu now. But it wasn’t suspicion she saw there. It was fascination. Maybe there was hope for the guardsman yet. Kalutu continued his story.

“I was caught by a falconer named Lan who, I later found out, most humans avoided. They considered him quite mad. He had a way with birds, even me, but he also drank quite a lot and had a terrible temper when he was drunk.

“One day, when he was particularly inebriated, he handled me quite roughly, and I bit him. He grew furious and bit me back…hard enough to draw blood. That’s all. And though I didn’t really know what dying was, part of me thought I wouldn’t ever recover from that bite.

“When I next became conscious, I was how you see me now.”

“What did the falconer do?” asked Sart.

“Nothing. He’d probably passed out somewhere, and I didn’t bother to look for him. I walked away. I was disoriented and confused, so I wandered. I couldn’t fly anymore. I could speak, though. I knew a language at least. I assume I was somehow connected to Lan, but I didn’t understand how. Probably he was where I got the language from. I even knew how to write, though I didn’t have the implements to try it. Not till I came to Rish anyway.

“I had to learn to hunt all over again, which was much harder without use of my wings. I avoided people after my first few encounters, when I realized no one had ever seen anything like me, and they weren’t going to treat me kindly. It was a lonely existence.”

Chari watched Sart’s face throughout. His expression kept changing. Hints of sympathy, understanding…yes, she had misjudged him.

“I don’t know what would have happened to me if Dahr hadn’t summoned me to the Other Realm that day. Before that, life wasn’t worth living.”

Chari shifted her gaze to Kalutu now and really looked at him. That one line brought everything into sharp relief. Given his story, of course Eric and Dahr would feel like heroes to him. Hell, they felt like heroes to her, and she was a better fighter than both of them. But Eric was just so wholesome. And Dahr was…well whatever Dahr was. Chaotic? Maybe. Mischievous? Definitely. Innocent? Not entirely. Perceptive? Absolutely.

No, she didn’t really understand Dahr, but Sart, at least, she could wrap her head around.

“I didn’t know,” said Sart.

A lesser creature than Kalutu would have rubbed his face in it, gotten some measure of revenge, but that simply wasn’t Kalutu’s way.

“I know, Sart, and it’s okay. I lived through all of that and still have trouble processing it. It would be unfair to believe anyone else would find it easier.”

“You’re nothing like I expected.”

Kalutu nodded. “I get that a lot.”

Chari laughed. “I’m glad we got that sorted before we reached Melar. Sart, when we get there, you can stay if you like.”

But Sart was already shaking his head. “If it’s all the same to you, your highness, I’d like to stay with you and Kalutu. I’m absolutely positive that nothing in the palace is going to be as interesting as traveling with you lot.”

Chari laughed again. Sart may have been wrong about a lot of things, but she was certain what he’d just said could be taken as prophecy.

*

Sixth of Striving 1142, Morning (Three days ago)

Ressssen looked around a room that looked like every other room in this place, but that didn’t fool her. Stone was stone, but every room thus far had been completely different. She’d heard both teams tell their stories—Maynor and Merck, Garne and Dreek. She’d listened as carefully as she could, because any single detail might mean the difference between future survival and the unthinkable alternative.

They already knew the dungeon could be deadly. Maynor fighting elementals between walls of flame. Merck having to defend himself while standing on a plate. Trap rooms and speed corridors. The monster maze Borin had managed to solve on his own. Each challenge could potentially end a life. And yet, Ressssen was absolutely certain they hadn’t seen the last this dungeon had to offer. After all, dungeons traditionally got harder as you descended into their depths. What other secrets would Soulsplit reveal as they approached its lower levels?

She was glad Borin was still with her. He’d been remarkable already. And Merck, from the story Maynor had told, was so much more than she’d originally expected him to be when she’d maneuvered him into joining the Misfits. She hadn’t invited him because she’d expected him to be great. He was there because she had wanted to be a part of the prophecy with which he’d been associated. The skill and bravery were an added bonus she had never suspected he possessed. As if in answer to her thoughts, Merck spoke.

“No magic in this room. Nothing evil. Nothing alive. Just a room with no exit—again. I’m getting tired of that.”

“There’s an exit,” she said with certainty, “just not one magically concealed. Whatever it is will be physical and that means searching. Slowly, carefully, painstakingly.”

“I love secret doors,” said Borin enthusiastically. “There were several in Jalag’s mansion. He showed me some. They were cleverly designed.”

“Good,” said Ressssen. “You have some experience. That will help.”

“I’ve been trained to check for traps too,” said Merck. “I may have been a swindler, but I still had to open containers I’d stolen and some of them were trapped.”

“That helps too. Let’s split up and start looking. And use your detect spells if you have them. These rooms change over time. There may have been no magic earlier, but that doesn’t mean there won’t be at some point.”

Merck nodded. Borin was already moving off. He claimed the wall behind them. Ressssen started on the left of the wall to their right. Merck took the wall opposite her. It took a while, but Merck found the way out first, assuming it was the only one.

“Here,” he said, face almost pressed completely against the stone. She crossed the room to see what he was looking at.

There in the rock, almost invisible, was a tiny seam. It might have been a crack, but it was too straight, too perfect, and had a matching seam a few feet across from it, running exactly parallel. A door. Merck had already touched it, but nothing had happened. In his earlier adventures, his touch had removed obstacles. Not this time. Borin touched it next, with no result. Ressssen placed a hand on it. It wasn’t magic. It just felt like stone. Cold, dry stone. No, wait—there was magic. She could feel it, but not in the stone—beyond it. She didn’t think the others were sensitive enough to magic yet to detect it, but at Level 9 she was far more sensitive to magic.

She extended her magic sense, unable to tell exactly what it was, but she had little doubt it was the key to opening the door. She closed her eyes and reached out with her mind. She tried to picture a ribbon of energy flowing out of her, toward whatever waited on the other side of the door. At first, nothing happened, but she had been a mage too long to give up easily.

Then, she felt the connection. She never did learn what it was, beyond the locking mechanism for the door. She couldn’t explain how it worked, but it did. As soon as it had enough of her magic, the entire section of wall glowed and vanished as if it had never been there.

Beyond was another boring stone room, exactly the same as the one they stood in. Ressssen would have sighed if boring weren’t better than the alternative.

“What did you do?” asked Merck.

“I fed it magic, but I’m not completely sure why that worked.”

Borin was practically vibrating with eagerness. Ressssen held up a hand to warn him.

“Slowly, Borin. Don’t let your excitement temper your caution. This place has sharp edges. We’d do well to mind them.”

Borin stopped instantly and nodded curtly. He knew she was right. Of all of them, no one took instruction better than the salad.

“So do we just stand here?” asked Merck. “We have to advance at some point.”

“We do,” said Ressssen, “after you use your detect skills.”

Merck looked a bit sheepish. “Right, sorry. I get excited and forget my only ability sometimes. That’s pretty bleak.”

“It’s your first dungeon,” said Ressssen. “Everyone reacts that way. Did you say you only have one skill?”

“I do. It’s called detect suite. It detects…well pretty much everything.”

“I’ve never heard of that, but it sounds useful.”

Borin leaned forward, studying Merck as if he’d never seen him before. “That’s a really unusual skill. I’ve read a lot of books about skills and never came across it. When did you get it?”

“The last time we leveled. It’s actually the only skill I’ve ever gotten. When I transitioned from my old class to my new one, and left Tharin behind for George, he didn’t give me any skills. For all of Level 1, I didn’t have any. I only got my first skill when I leveled with all of you.”

“You get stranger and stranger, Merck,” said Borin.

Merck laughed. “I never thought I’d live long enough to hear a salad call me strange.”

Ressssen interrupted. “Merck, your skill.”

“Oh right, sorry.”

Merck triggered his detect skill, and Ressssen watched his face. Nothing to be alarmed about, just a bit of confusion.

“There’s magic, but it’s not all one type of magic.”

“Your skill can differentiate between different types of magic?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t experienced this before. But this next room isn’t what it seems. I get the distinct impression that it might change when we enter.”

Ressssen took a beat to consider Merck’s words before speaking. “Then we best prepare. Weapons ready.”

Merck cleared his throat. “I don’t have a weapon. Maynor took my dagger and threw it at the giggler. It’s all I had.”

“Of course you have a weapon, Merck. You have your mind, and it’s gotten you far in this dungeon already. That said…”

Ressssen put her pack down on the ground and rummaged through it, taking out a dagger belt with a scabbard, a dagger already resting inside it. “Here, take it.”

Merck looked at it then up at her. “That looks valuable.”

“It’s got a bit of magic on it, so it’s at least not cheap, but I’d rather have you armed, just in case.”

“Okay,” said Merck, licking his lips nervously. “I’ll be careful with it.”

Ressssen chuckled. “Most magic daggers aren’t so easy to damage. Just attach the sheath to your belt and keep the dagger out for now, until we know what we’re dealing with.”

They waited while Merck complied. Ressssen found herself wishing that Maynor or Garne was with them. If the dungeon was going to test them as casters, all well and good. But if the challenges ahead veered into physical confrontation, she was a lot less confident.

And she had to remember to protect Merck who was, after all, only Level 2.

“Merck, you should go first.”

“Me!” Merck looked flabbergasted.

“Healers and mages are both part of the back line. Because if the healer goes down, you’ve got a problem and it takes me time to cast most spells, and those spells are easily interrupted. You’ve already proven you can handle yourself in a tight situation and, this time, you have backup, including a healer.”

“Oh. I never thought about it before.”

“You probably worked alone rather than as part of a team, but this is how teams think.”

Merck seemed to consider that. “Right. Let’s see what we’re dealing with this time.”

Merck stepped through the doorway and vanished completely.

Borin moved to follow but Ressssen blocked him with her arm.

“I’ll go. You bring up the rear.”

“Okay.”

“Be ready to heal me, just in case.”

Borin nodded, his previous excitement replaced by a focus she was happy to see.

Then she stepped through the gate and, like Merck, vanished from sight.

Borin was left alone. He whispered a prayer to Sylinar, though he was sure she would not hear it from this place, and followed his team leader through the doorway, afraid not of what he might find on the other side, but of not being experienced enough to deal with it.

*

After walking through the door into the next room, Maynor had wanted to look around, but found it impossible. The sun was too bright. He lowered his head so it wasn’t directly in his eyes, blinked a few times and saw grass. He looked back and there was no evidence of the old room. Somehow, the dungeon had kicked them out.

“Interesting,” said Dreek.

Maynor shrugged. “I guess that’s one word for it. Where the hell are we?”

“I think we’re still in the dungeon.”

Maynor looked at him. “In the dungeon? What makes you think that?”

Garne ignored them or at least seemed to, though Maynor had little doubt he was actually listening. Instead he was looking around, taking in the area as any trained warrior would.

“We haven’t really moved from our location. The dungeon is still here, we just can’t see it,” said Dreek, “or at least, you can’t see it.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m a phase-shifter. I live in two worlds. I’m used to seeing two realities overlaid—you’re not. So when I scan the area, I can still feel the dungeon around us, even though I can’t see it. That’s the best I can explain it. The outside world is bleeding into the dungeon, showing us a view of a world we can’t actually access. If we walked backwards a few steps, we’d run into a wall we couldn’t see.”

Maynor shook his head. That made no sense. But he couldn’t deny that even with all his levels, Dreek had knowledge from lived experience he couldn’t share that would be foolish to ignore. So he turned around and walked back a few steps, slowly, hands in front of him. Sure enough, he was soon stopped by an invisible wall. Placing a hand flat on it, it felt exactly like the stone walls they’d been surrounded by all along.

“Well, this is going to make navigation harder,” said Maynor.

“I think I can navigate, but we’ll have to go slow.”

Garne sighed. “What the hell is wrong with this dungeon? Why can’t they just throw a demon at us like a normal dungeon?”

Dreek was already walking ahead, hands extended, head constantly shifting about. “Because this is not a normal dungeon.”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

Maynor laughed and started following Dreek. Garne brought up the rear. It was a relief to him that there was actually a wall behind him, because that meant nothing could sneak up on them from behind…or was that true?

“Dreek, if there’s a wall behind us, we can’t be attacked from behind, right?”

“That’s not necessarily true. If we’re on both planes that means creatures of this plane might not interact with the wall at all. It’s possible that we’d be open to attacks from both the dungeon and the grassland.”

“How sure are you about this?”

“I’m not. I’m just saying it’s possible.”

Garne stopped walking. “Dreek, if something from the dungeon attacked us, would we see it? After all, we can’t see the dungeon walls.”

“If we’re attacked by something in the dungeon, I think I’d sense them. You two, however, might be screwed.”

“Then let’s hope we’re not attacked from both planes at the same time,” said Maynor. “Just keep your weapons ready. I don’t like this one bit.”

Maynor began walking, slowly, along the wall, following the shape of the room. If the wall did present some sort of protection, he was going to stay close to it. As they moved further from the entrance, the grass grew taller. Maynor saw it first, a disturbance in the grass. No, two…three.

“Incoming! Watch the grass.”

Maynor and Garne waited, but Dreek moved out toward the shapes. Maynor could tell he’d phased out because the individual blades of grass didn’t move as he passed through them.

Maynor loosened his grip on the sword. Gripping a sword too tightly accomplished nothing, except cramping your fingers. Beginner’s mistake. This place was beginning to get to him. Maynor was used to pitched, open field battles, and fighting men rather than monsters. It’s not that he hadn’t fought creatures before, he had, but that wasn’t where the bulk of his experience lay—and he was even less familiar with dungeons. He used to tell guards that they should intentionally try to go out of their comfort zone… learn the weapons they wouldn’t normally use, at least the basics. Ironic that reality had forced him into following his own advice.

That was all he had time to think before the first of the creatures emerged from the tall grass—a giant rat. Maynor watched as it ran directly toward Dreek. Before he could comment, a second creature emerged and ran toward Maynor and Garne. It was a rhythlet, something that looked a bit like a crocodile on stilts. Not something that Garne couldn’t handle, even without Maynor’s help. As if reading Maynor’s mind, Garne spoke.

“I got this.”

Garne moved toward the creature, the right thing to do in this situation. Having three different creatures attacking three of them in close quarters, where they couldn’t see the walls, was asking for trouble. So Maynor waited where he was, hoping the final creature would hurry up and get here. The suspense was almost always worse than the fight. Almost being the operative word, because when it emerged, Maynor’s grip tightened on his sword again.

“Shatterwraith,” he whispered, casting the spell on his sword to affect undead.

If either this creature had gone for one of the others, the fight would already be over, but fortunately, it was heading right toward him. It would be the equivalent of a Level 25 beast, that’s how it was usually ranked. It didn’t have levels of course. Gods didn’t provide classes to monsters. Monster levels were estimated rankings suggested by the Adventurer’s Guild as a guide to what a member might not want to take on. On paper, this creature out-leveled Maynor by a single level, definitely a fight he could win, but not a theory he was anxious to test.

Maynor drew a deep breath, struck a defensive stance and waited. It looked almost like a black crab that had been shattered and pasted back together with glowing red adhesive. Its claws were larger than the claws of a normal crab. Its eyes were on stalks above it, all six of them, and it approached so quickly, he didn’t even have time to finish his thought before being forced to defend himself.

The biggest danger was the two immense claws. A single touch from either of them would sap his strength sufficiently to make him all but useless for the rest of the fight. This forced Maynor to fight a purely defensive battle, at least until he had an opening.

Maynor immediately moved along the wall. His goal was to stay beside the creature, rather than in front of it. Behind it was dangerous too, because it had the ability to spray some sort of toxin behind it that would act like a debuff. He had to be completely focused because it kept turning, trying to face him. And he kept circling, trying to prevent that. It was a dance that would continue until one of them made a mistake.

Maynor had never seen a shatterwraith live before, but he had heard tales of them and seen pictures. It was different in person. Larger than he thought it would be, even though that meant wider, not taller. The red glow coming from between the fragments was brighter than any picture he’d seen, as if there was a furnace at its center and internal flames illuminated the cracks. And unlike the images, the black carapace was shiny, almost reflective.

His first attacks were feints only. He wanted to see how the creature would react, to see if it would turn before he hit it. It didn’t. Which meant it either wasn’t that smart, or that it was even smarter than he had assumed. And since he didn’t know which, that put him in danger. At some point, he’d have to risk an actual strike.

Around he went, the shatterwraith turning, Maynor circling. Timing would be everything here. He’d have loved to see how his companions were doing, but he couldn’t risk even the slightest distraction. Which was unfortunate because they were already shouting.

“Rat’s dead,” said Dreek just loud enough to carry. “On my way, Garne.”

“Help Maynor, I got this.”

“No!” shouted Maynor. “Whatever you do, stay away from me. I mean it.”

“I can phase,” said Dreek. “I’m coming.”

“Damn it!”

Maynor, his hand forced, leaned in and slashed at the creature. His sword blade slid off one of the side plates. He needed to time a thrust between those plates, which would expose him if he wasn’t fast enough.

“Dreek, listen to me. I need you to stay back. Please.”

He had no way to know if Dreek had listened or not. His opportunity had come. Maynor lunged and slid his sword deep into the creature’s side. It slid in with almost no resistance. The creature didn’t turn at all.

Then Maynor pulled back, realizing immediately what had happened, for he was now holding a weapon that was mostly hilt and the part of his blade that had entered the creature was completely missing.