THE FALL OF SKULLKEEP

A PREVIEW

HISTORIES OF DRAKMOOR

BOOK 5

ROBERT M. KERNS

Copyright © 2023 by Robert M. Kerns

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means--electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise--without the prior written permission of the publisher and copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any place or person (living, dead, or reanimated undead) is unintended and purely coincidental.

* * *

Published by Knightsfall Press

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Mineral Wells, WV 26150

ABOUT THIS BOOK

Skullkeep is an ancient fortress built to defend Hope's Pass. Now a bastion of a massive undead horde and controlled by a necromancer of terrible power.

A necromancer who has already defeated Gavin once.

Gavin must rally the old alliance and lead the largest military campaign since the Godswar, and the fate of Drakmoor hangs in the balance.

The Necromancer of Skullkeep versus Gavin Cross, Archmagister of Tel and Head of House Kirloth. Only one will emerge victorious.

Get your copy today!

CHAPTER 1

Wind whipped across the terrace and billowed Gavin’s robe. This high up, he couldn’t smell anything on the wind as he leaned against the waist-high parapet and looked out over Tel Mivar. He didn’t like how the Citadel floated so high above the countryside; it made him feel like he was supposed to believe he was far too good to live among the people he governed. The question of why the Citadel floated so high above Tel Mivar was a persistent thought that had poked him like a thorn since shortly after he’d returned from Vushaar.

Kirloth and his Apprentices created the Citadel during the Founding, the period of time when the world rebuilt in the aftermath of the Godswar. The man Gavin knew as Marcus—who had trained Gavin in the Art—was in fact the Kirloth of legend. He dueled Milthas for supremacy in Arundel, trained the God of Magic, and founded the Kingdom of Tel. Still, given everything he knew about Marcus, Gavin couldn’t picture him thinking he was better than other people. A more proficient arcanist, certainly. Marcus’s proficiency was almost a forgone conclusion, but he had never exhibited the kind of unthinking, ingrained arrogance that typified the ‘better than you’ mentality.

“Gavin?” Kiri’s voice pulled his attention away from his musings, and he turned to face her.

She stood just outside the door to the balcony, wearing a simple dress in a deep sapphire trimmed with emerald green. The dress accentuated her form in a manner Gavin appreciated, and he wanted nothing more than to hold her close and never let her go. After considering that for another moment, he decided to put action to desire.

He smiled as he crossed the terrace and pulled her into his arms, kissing her deeply before saying, “I missed you. Are you here for the war council?”

“Yes. I brought Roth with me, too. Everyone else is waiting for you in the Conclave room.”

Gavin released his wife with great reluctance. Married less than three months, Gavin felt he had far too many demands on his time keeping him from being the kind of husband he wanted to be. Especially now that he remembered Emily, his first wife and Jennifer’s mother.

“We’d better go, then,” he said, almost sighing the words, and allowed Kiri to lead him from the terrace.

Mere minutes saw them standing outside the room for Conclave meetings in the Citadel, and laying his hand on the doorknob, Gavin took a deep breath and exhaled before opening the doors and entering.

The moment he crossed the doorway’s threshold, everyone in the room stood. Not only was the Archmagister of Tel—the last of the Divine Emissaries—entering the room, but the Crown Princess of Vushaar also walked at his side. Gavin escorted Kiri to her seat, assisting her with the chair out of respect and love, before making his way to his seat at the opposite end of the table.

“Please, be seated,” Gavin said as he did so, himself. “I want to thank you for coming to this first meeting of the war council. As you all know, I believe the time has come to remove the threat to our peoples posed by the Necromancer and his various plots. This will not be easy, in any sense of the word, but the most worthwhile goals rarely are.”

Gavin paused for a breath and met each person’s eyes with his own. Down the right side of the table from his perspective sat the Conclave of the Great Houses and their heirs: Torval Mivar, Lillian, Sypara Wygoth, Braden, Carth Roshan, Wynn, Lyssa Cothos, and Mariana. Down the left side of the table sat the foreign representatives: Telanna of the High Forest, member of Sylvan Synod and also Ambassador to Vushaar as needed; Xythe, his former apprentice and now Ambassador to Tel from the dracons; King Gildar of Stonehearth and Hakamri, Gildar’s Ambassador to Tel; the former Chieftain of the Giants, now Ambassador to Tel; Othron; Ovir Thatcherson, representing the clergy of Valthon; and Roth Thatcherson, Vushaari Cavalier. Declan sat in a chair off to one side; a sheaf of parchment, a pot of ink, and a stylus or two on the small desk before him proclaimed his readiness to record his notes and thoughts on this piece of history as it unfolded before him.

“The primary issue as I see it,” Gildar said, “is our lack of current and reliable information. How are we supposed to plan for an assault, when all of our documentation of the fortress is centuries old?”

Gavin nodded his agreement. “You raise an excellent point. To that end, I will dispatch several intelligence operations against Skullkeep after this meeting. I hope that we will receive actionable information well before we mobilize to move against the Necromancer.”

“Is that so?” Gildar asked. “And just what operations might these be?”

Gavin’s lips curled in a friendly partial smile. “I’m afraid I can’t speak as to the nature of the operations or the operators, but trust that they have never failed me. Not even when my life or the life of someone I care about has depended upon them.”

Gildar held Gavin’s gaze with his own for several moments before he gave a firm nod. “Aye, and fair enough. I probably owe ye an apology while I’m at it; there’s some who’d say asking about yer spies and such is very bad form.”

Now, Gavin did smile and added a dismissive wave. “Don’t worry about it. I’m new, both in this role and in your experience. A certain amount of skepticism that I can deliver is healthy.”

“Yer very generous for sayin’ so, but if Bellos trusts ye to be the Archmagister, that should be good enough for me or anyone else.”

The meeting continued for a couple hours, wherein everyone discussed mobilization and precise timeframes for actions. Once the entire agenda for that meeting had been discussed, including scheduling the next meeting and specific milestones for their preparations to assault Skullkeep, it was time to close things down. Gavin thanked everyone once again for coming. The Conclave saw to their own transport, and their heirs provided gateways for those who could not teleport themselves. Soon, only two guests remained: Othron and Torval Mivar.

“I take it you both have matters you wish to discuss with me?” Gavin asked.

“Yes,” Torval replied.

Othron nodded, his voice accented by the eerie clacking of teeth. “If you have time.”

Gavin looked between the two, asking, “Who wants to go first? Or is either matter time-sensitive?”

“I’m happy to wait for Othron to have his say,” Torval replied. “Is there somewhere I can wait?”

“Hartley!” Gavin called out.

The spectral majordomo of the Citadel formed mere inches off Torval’s shoulder, saying, “You called, Milord?”

Torval jumped. Gavin exerted considerable willpower to keep from laughing.

“Yes, Hartley. Would you please conduct Torval to the sitting room and offer him refreshments? He wants to wait for me to discuss something with Othron.”

The specter nodded once. “Of course, Milord. Sir, if you would please follow me?”

Without waiting for a reply, Hartley pivoted and ‘walked’ straight through the room’s closed door. Torval opened the door to follow and closed it behind him.

Now that they were alone, Gavin pointed to one of the chairs along the table and pulled another out for his own use. He didn’t sit so much as flopped and leaned back against the chair. “So, what’s on your mind, Othron?”

“I…” At another gesture from Gavin, Othron pulled the seat back from the table and sat. “I have a confession to make. The Necromancer of Skullkeep is my fault. From the proper point of view, you might even say he is my grandson.”

Gavin blinked. “Come again? How can the Necromancer be your grandson? Not to put too fine a point on it, but you’re rather desiccated. Is he from before you developed the path to lichdom?”

It felt like Othron would’ve winced if he still possessed muscles and living flesh. “Not as such, no. There was a time in the early days of my new existence that I fell into despair at the depth of the loneliness I faced. Your mentor did what he could, but you have no concept of what it’s like to watch your comrades—those people you fought with and sacrificed with and risked it all for—grow old and die. In what seemed like the blink of an eye, I was all alone. So, I sought out apprentices. I felt that, if I helped others advance in their understanding of the Art, I might develop new friendships and connections. To an extent, I did, but these too passed on with time. I considered offering the secrets of lichdom to my most promising students, and in the end, I decided there might be one with the understanding and mastery necessary to survive the process. You may have heard of Emperor Xartham, who rules the arid plains east of Vushaar in the southern foothills of the Godswall Mountains?”

Gavin fought the urge to gape. “Emperor Xartham is a lich?”

“Oh, yes, and a very accomplished arcanist as well. I would not rate him at your level in terms of sheer power, but he’s been around long enough to have learned and mastered quite a bit. It was Xartham, you see, who was a bit less… selective, you might say… than I was. I lost count of the number of his so-called ‘students’ who sacrificed their lives in pursuit of lichdom. I even heard rumors suggesting he modified the ritual somehow to drain their power and life to strengthen his. I have no proof of that, mind you, but I did hear it from more than one source. In the end, only one of Xartham’s students ever succeeded at becoming a lich, and that student is the creature now in control of Skullkeep.”

“Yes, I see,” Gavin remarked, a partial chuckle escaping his lips. “The Necromancer would indeed be your grandson, from the proper point of view. Do you know any more about him?”

“I do. He was a young and hungry arcanist, always seeking more power and knowledge. In truth, he approached me for tutelage, prior to approaching Xartham, but there was an almost feral aspect to the man I didn’t like. He came across as too hungry for power, too intent on advancing his mastery. His name is Drannos Muldannin.”

Gavin felt his jaw drop but couldn’t stop it. For several heartbeats, all he could do was gape at Othron, and when he could respond, only one word escaped his shock. “Bullshit!”

“I assure you it is not. The third lich—Xartham’s successful student—is Drannos Muldannin.”

“You mean to tell me that the Magister of Thaumaturgy is the Necromancer of Skullkeep?”

Othron lifted his hands in a gesture of uncertainty. “I cannot say that for certain as I have never met your Magister of Thaumaturgy, but I am very certain that the Necromancer of Skullkeep bore the name Drannos Muldannin during his mortal years.”

“Hartley!”

The specter re-entered the room by walking through the door. “You bellowed, Milord?”

“Send word to the Grand Inquisitor at once. I want a full report of the whereabouts and associations of the Magister of Thaumaturgy, and I want it last week. This is the utmost priority for her as of this moment. All other ongoing operations pale in comparison to the importance of this task. Understood?”

“Yes, Milord. I shall inform Grand Inquisitor Reyna myself.”

“Thank you, Hartley.” The spectral majordomo faded back through the door, and Gavin regarded Othron.

At last, Othron broke the silence. “I understand if you feel this constitutes a conflict of interest for me. I assure you it does not, but—”

Gavin waved away that topic. “No. Don’t even go there, but I totally understand why you wanted to speak to me in private. Not everyone has the same history with you that I do, so it would be almost unavoidable to question your motives. Knowing this, are there any secret weaknesses you would trust me and the Wraiths with?”

“The Wraiths?” Now, Othron sounded shocked. “What does my old friend’s irregular military unit from the Godswar have to do with this?”

“He never disbanded them.”

“Oh. Oh, my. You are far more formidable than meets the eye. Very well. Yes, there is one crucial weakness to creatures of my kind… the soul jar. We all have one, and we tend to be very protective of it. If the soul jar is destroyed, we are trapped in our current forms until we can craft a new one, which is a painstaking, laborious process in itself. The only way to ensure that a lich is truly dead, never to re-form, is to destroy the soul jar first and then the lich.”

Gavin nodded. “Thank you. That’s very good to know, and I promise I will only speak of it to the Wraith I send to infiltrate Skullkeep.”

“I appreciate that. I don’t feel like I am in any danger, but that information leaking into the world would be worrisome.”

“So,” Gavin began, as he leaned back against his seat once more, “is there anything else, or was that little bomb you dropped on me the extent of your topics?”

“I think we’ve kept Torval waiting long enough,” Othron answered, “and I’m grateful you’d take the time to hear me out.”

Gavin stood, prompting Othron to follow suit. “You’re welcome, my friend. If you ever need my help, you need only ask.”

“Of course, and I appreciate it.” Othron stepped back and formed a gateway by invoking a Word of Transmutation. The moment the gateway was complete, he stepped through it and was gone.

Now alone, Gavin sagged back into the chair and contemplated this new information. It was little surprise the Necromancer had always been one step ahead of the Council, if it were true; with that kind of advantage, only an utter idiot would fail.

“Yeah,” Gavin muttered to himself, “I’m gonna need a minute to process this before I see what Torval wanted.”

* * *

Gavin found Torval waiting for him in the sitting room that he had used so often prior to his sojourn to Earth. Lillian’s grandfather stood when he entered, but Gavin was quick to wave him back to his seat.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting so long,” Gavin said, as he himself eased into a seat. “To be honest, Othron dropped a bomb or two on me, and I had to take a moment to process it. I wasn’t expecting that conversation… at all. But I digress. What did you want to discuss?”

Torval gave Gavin the indulgent smile that Gavin remembered his own grandparents giving him, years back. He settled himself in the chair and interlaced his fingers in front of him. “During the year you and Kiri were gone, the Conclave went through some changes, and I wanted you to be aware of them. The most significant of these is that the heirs are now heirs pretty much only in name. We weren’t too long into your disappearance when Lillian stepped up and took over liaising with Nathrac on matters of governance and policy, working to answer the question of what you would’ve wanted done. As months unfolded, she drew the others deeper into administrative roles of one kind or another to the point that we—that is, the traditional Conclave—stepped back, considered the new situation, and made the decision that the heirs should step into the foreground officially and transition into the leadership roles that have always been theirs. Lyssa, Sypara, Carth, and I now serve as just advisors and a kind of living history… answering questions about why certain decisions were made or why actions were taken.”

Gavin nodded. “I see. I’m rather glad to hear that. Not that you’ve stepped back as such; I see no reason that any of you should step back until it is your choice to do so. No… what I mean is that I’m glad Lillian and the others stepped up. I’ll make sure to speak with them—both collectively and individually—to thank them for all the work they’ve done.”

“I appreciate that,” Torval replied. “They certainly worked themselves hard to keep the wheels on the wagon. The day you both returned, we discussed the very real fear that Tel would soon face some level of significant unrest… which your return has ended. As far as I know, we never tracked the simmering unrest to any specific actors, but if there were, they quickly vanished back into the woodwork.”

“Amazing how fast that happens when Kirloth is close by,” Gavin remarked in a dry, sardonic tone as he tapped his medallion to indicate his House’s glyph.

Torval laughed. “No doubt.”

Silence descended on the sitting room for several moments. Then, Torval said, “I don’t know that Lillian will say anything, but we are all relieved and happy that you came back. That year you were gone aged all of us who care about Tel and our responsibilities.”

Gavin nodded his understanding. “I appreciate that. There was never a question of wanting to return. The difficulty was figuring out how to achieve cross-planar scrying and teleportation. That… well… it was an adventure.”

“You’ll have to tell us all about it sometime,” Torval replied as he pushed himself to stand.

“Declan has already badgered me for the story.” Gavin joined Torval in standing and walked with him as he moved to leave. “We’ve discussed some of it, and we dig into a little bit more each week as I have time. He promised me to get an accurate idea of the story before writing any of it.”

Now, it was Torval’s turn to express his understanding with a nod. “I shall keep a look-out for it. Thank you for taking the time to speak with me, Gavin. I’m sure you have all sorts of concerns vying for your time and attention.”

Gavin clapped Torval on the shoulder and gave the man his warmest, most welcoming smile. “Think nothing of it, Torval. You are always welcome to discuss anything you need with me.”

Hartley faded into existence as Torval opened the sitting room’s door. “Ah, Master Mivar… shall I escort you to the portal?”

“Thank you, Hartley.”

Gavin watched the man and specter move down the hallway before slipping back into the sitting room. The conversation with Torval gave him several ideas, and he chuckled at how history would once again repeat itself if he had his way.

But first… Skullkeep. It was long past time to end the Necromancer’s influence in the world.

CHAPTER 2

When Gavin emerged from his thoughts and sought Declan, the bard was already somewhere else. Fortunately, Gavin knew just where to look. A simple matter of a Word of Transmutation opened a gateway to the first room of the chapterhouse for the Wraiths in Tel Mivar, and Gavin retraced the path he had followed with Declan what seemed so long ago now… but wasn’t more than three years at the most.

Fifty or more Wraiths shot to their feet as Gavin entered the underground common room, and Gavin smiled at seeing Declan leaning against the large table, an ale cup in one hand.

“Stand easy, everyone,” Gavin said, adding a dismissive gesture as he crossed to the person of his search. “You disappeared from the Citadel rather fast.”

Declan shrugged. “No one told me to stay, and besides, I had important business here.”

“I see that,” Gavin replied, adding a meaningful look at the ale cup.

“Shush,” Declan shot back and waved the ale cup. “This wasn’t my important business. Making sure she was waiting for you was.”

Gavin looked in the direction of Declan’s exaggerated head nod and saw a young woman wending her way through the crowd. His mind immediately told him she was familiar but went no further than that. He watched her approach as his mind parsed everything, and recognition bloomed.

“Hello, Cyn,” Gavin said. “How have you been since Vushaar?”

The young woman beamed at Gavin remembering her, and a slow blush crept up her cheeks. “I’ve been well, Milord. I am a full-time Wraith now; my mentor, Master Declan, signed off on my advancement while you were away.”

“Well, in that case… belated congratulations,” Gavin replied. “Have you learned what the reward for work well done is?”

Cyn blinked. “Uhm… I’m not sure, Milord.”

Gavin grinned. “More work, of course. You’re to infiltrate Skullkeep and serve as our stealth asset inside the fortress prior to our assault. Your primary mission is to locate the Necromancer’s soul jar, and that will be the most difficult assignment you’ve had thus far. Your little jaunt to capture Ivarson in Vushaar will seem like a picnic compared to this one. I have it on very good authority that liches hide and guard their soul jars more than a miser guards his coins. We’ll send you with all the information on the fortress we can, but even the most recent information is something like six hundred-odd years old.”

Cyn’s eyes slowly widened as she processed the enormity of the task. “That… that’s a lot of responsibility, Milord. Are you certain I’m best suited for it?”

“Declan thinks you are,” Gavin replied, “and I trust him. I personally think this is a good move for you, but if you honestly and genuinely would prefer the close protection job for my daughter, I’m sure we can arrange that.”

Silence descended on the trio. It was apparent that Cyn weighed the career choice facing her, and after a few moments, she lifted her head to meet Gavin’s eyes once more and squared her shoulders.

“No, Milord, I will infiltrate Skullkeep,” she answered. “Thank you for this opportunity and believing in me.”

Gavin smiled, replying, “You’re welcome, Cyn, and you’ve earned it. Prepare for your journey. Declan and I need to handle the matter of a Wraith for my daughter, and after that, he will bring you all the documentation we have for you to study.”

Cyn nodded once, then pivoted on her heel and disappeared back into the crowd.

Declan finished off his ale and placed the mug on the table behind him, nodding toward the door. Gavin followed him out of the chapterhouse’s common room, and they went back toward the stairs before turning into what looked like a combination bedroom and office, closing the door behind them. Declan sat on the bed, gesturing for Gavin to take the desk’s chair.

“Cyn has a lot of potential, and I have no problems entrusting the Skullkeep mission to her,” Declan began. “That being said, though, we would be utter fools to rely on only one person. We have four others selected and have gone some length to ensure none of the five know each other or will even recognize one another. There is always the chance that one or more will trip over the others, but given the sheer size of Skullkeep and the force the Necromancer is assembling, the leadership feels that five is a good number. Now, let’s discuss the Wraith you want for your daughter.”

“Okay, but I’m not all that certain what else there is to discuss. I’d prefer that whoever it is doesn’t have family here in Drakmoor, but otherwise, everything is just as I outlined it in the common room.”

Declan nodded his understanding. “None of the Wraiths have family. Well, not like spouses or children or anything like that. If one decides that is important, they transition to inactive reserve, and we set them up in the industry of their choice. You’d be surprised how many inns, general stores, or blacksmith shops have a ‘former’ Wraith as the owner.”

“So, the Wraiths have a far wider reach than I originally thought. That’s impressive.” Gavin fell silent for a moment before he stood. “Anything else you need from me?”

“No, thank the gods. Get back to running the kingdom.”

* * *

Gavin didn’t see his parents’ vehicle when he stepped through the portal that connected the Kirloth Estate—formerly the Sivas Estate—to the front yard of his childhood home with Declan at his side. He did, however, see a blacked-out SUV with US Government plates sitting in the expanded parking area, which elicited a confused frown. Why hadn’t Alexis just used a gateway?

Filing that question away for later, Gavin gestured toward the portal that would take them to the tower he’d raised deeper in the family land and headed off at a comfortable walk. He felt the tingling across his skin that signified passing through his ward on the property and saw two people in suits and sunglasses standing at the door to the keep. Their heads immediately swiveled toward Gavin and his associate, and Gavin noticed a couple people standing over by the fence that separated the training area he’d created for Kiri.

“State your name and business,” one of the suits said as she lifted her hand in the classic ‘stop’ gesture.

Something about the woman’s demeanor tickled Gavin’s hackles, and he responded. “My name is Gavin Cross, and my business—especially on my family’s ancestral land—is my own. It would be wise if you identified yourselves forthwith.”

At the mention of his name, Gavin saw the two agents pale just a little bit, and the suit who had yet to speak actually twitched his hand toward a sidearm under his jacket.

Gavin made direct eye contact with the man, moving only his eyes. “If you are stupid enough to draw a weapon, you will spend the next month collecting a coating of bird shit as a living statue in the flower garden of Graham’s roundabout.”

“Baker… Hernandez… stand down,” a woman said, and Gavin turned his head to see Gayle approaching from Kiri’s exercise area. “He’s cleared… and he wasn’t joking about the bird shit. I know you’ve seen pictures of the FBI SWAT team.”

“Hello, Gayle,” Gavin said.

“I thought you went back to wherever it was.”

Gavin gave the woman a smile that edged toward mirthless. “That’s the wonderful thing about family, Gayle. They want you to visit. I’m guessing Alexis is visiting Jennifer?”

Gayle nodded. “We couldn’t get away with the basic travel party this time. There have been some nut-jobs sending death threats that are a little more credible than the usual nonsense, so we’re traveling with a full detail.”

“That makes sense, but why did you drive all the way from D.C.? Alexis could’ve just opened a portal.”

Gayle grimaced. “Yeah, I wish. They’re refusing to update the travel protocols to include ‘unverified phenomena’ and insist that any trips away from protected sites use official, vetted transportation.”

“Seriously?”

Gayle simply nodded.

Gavin snorted and shook his head. “Idiots. She’s safer using a gateway.”

“So, who’s the guy at your shoulder?” Gayle asked.

“This gentleman is Declan deHavand, the guy who trained Kiri.”

“He did?” Gayle’s expression went blank. “He’s the one Kiri described as Death walking when he needs to be?”

Declan snorted a laugh behind him, and Gavin nodded. “I have it on excellent authority that Declan is one of the most proficient we have… in addition to his other talents.”

Gayle eyed Declan over Gavin’s shoulder with a speculative expression. “I don’t suppose I could convince you to have an exhibition bout while you’re here, could I? Kiri said that what she knew wasn’t hers to teach.”

“I don’t think it’s wise… no,” Declan replied. “I’m not certain it would be safe for whoever you would have me fight.”

“Oh?” Gayle asked. “Why is that?”

“Well, not knowing what training you’ve had or its focus, there’s an excellent chance of accidental death. It’s one thing to have a sparring match with someone who has my background, but some random person is an altogether different prospect. I could slip into an evolution of strikes I’m used to my sparring partner easily countering and accidentally deliver grievous bodily harm, simply because your person doesn’t know the counter to my moves.”

Gayle eyed Declan in silence before her gaze washed over the ladies with him and Kiri before returning to him. “I would think a true master would be able to pull punches and whatnot. I know we do in our sparring.”

Declan chuckled. “Even pulling a kill strike to make it non-lethal has the potential to break bones, so no. I will not spar with any of your people.”

The woman who told Gavin to halt approached Gayle’s elbow. “We’ll need to do a full background and vet him.”

Now, Gayle snorted a laugh. “Good luck. He’s not from Earth, so you won’t find him in any DMV database, and no, we have no authority to vet him. We’re not technically on United States soil right now.”

It was good she remembered that. Gavin didn’t relish the thought of re-educating the federal government; he didn’t have that kind of time.

“Now that we’ve established who’s who and what’s what,” Gavin said, “we’ll be going to see my daughter.”

The woman eyed Gavin with a quasi-glare. “And if we say no, because you present a threat to our charge?”

“You have no authority to say yay or nay to anything as long as you stand on this property, and beyond that, I’m sure you’d look absolutely lovely wearing a month’s worth of accumulated bird shit. Or… I suppose there’s always Graham Lake. Do you swim, Agent?”

The thought of suddenly finding herself floating in Graham Lake did more to terrify the woman than the thought of bird shit in her hair, because she paled just enough for Gavin to notice and stepped aside. Gavin nodded once and strode toward the keep, where the other agent displayed excellent wisdom by choosing not to impede him.

* * *

Gavin returned to the Citadel at the end of what felt like a very long day. He chose to visit the library, desiring to read some of Marcus’s journals as he wound down from his day, and found Lillian sitting in one of the chairs with a weighty tome resting on her thighs.

“Finally made it back, did you?” Lillian asked as she saw Gavin enter.

“Yeah. Say… I’ve been meaning to ask you something. Have you ever given any thought to being the Archmagister?”

Lillian gaped. “But… wouldn’t that mean you’d be dead? I mean, the only way to become Archmagister is for the previous one to die, right?”

“Well, that’s not the only way,” Gavin replied. “There is historical precedent.”

Lillian frowned as she searched her mind, and her eyes shot back to Gavin when she connected the dots. “You’re thinking about stepping down? Like Marcus did? Well, he didn’t really step down, more like faked his death, but still…”

Gavin sat in a plush armchair across from Lillian. “As long as I am Archmagister, I am constrained to this role, but being the Archmagister is not my only role. I am also Kirloth, and it is very difficult to be the specter in the shadows when I’m walking around in a gold robe. Beyond that, from what I’ve heard, I think you’d make an excellent Archmagister, and it’s been a while since Mivar has had the honor.”

“But what about Bellos? He always chooses the Archmagister.”

“Lillian,” Gavin began, almost sighing her name, “I am very grateful to be alive, but I wasn’t consulted on any of this. Valthon—or Valthon and Bellos—plucked me out of the afterlife and dropped me in an alley in Tel Mivar for the sole reason that I am a wizard of House Kirloth, and then, Bellos went and named me Archmagister. Yes, I agreed, and yes, I feel it was the proper decision at the time. I honestly don’t regret agreeing. But I cannot be effective as Kirloth as long as I am the Archmagister. As soon as we’ve ended the threat posed by the Necromancer, I plan to discuss the matter with Bellos. If you like the idea of being Archmagister, I’ll toss your name in the ring while we’re talking.”

“I… I don’t know. Can I think about it? I mean… it’s a lot to drop on someone.”

“Yeah, it is,” Gavin agreed, adding a confirmatory nod. “Trust me; I know.”

CHAPTER 3

Gavin entered the sitting room that he used for most of his informal meetings. Hakamri and Braden each occupied chairs sized to fit them, and he resisted the urge to smile at Hartley’s thoughtfulness. Both of his guests moved to stand as he entered, and Gavin quickly waved that off. He didn’t care for the pointless protocols that surrounded so many offices of state—whether here or back on Earth—and did his best to see that no one followed them too often.

He crossed the room in a few strides and sat in the open chair. It enfolded him as he surrendered his weight to it, taking a moment of relaxing peace. A whimsical part of him wished he could spend more time just enjoying the simple comforts of a well-crafted armchair, but he knew he had far too much to do and far too little time for it all.

“Thank you both for coming to meet with me,” Gavin said as he focused on the meeting. “I have an idea for the coming mobilization that I think will appeal to both of you.”

He let his words hang in the air for a moment, gauging his audience. Both of his guests displayed signs of eagerness—Braden more than Hakamri, for he had experience with Gavin’s ‘ideas.’

“I want to establish a weapons facility that will equip our troops with imbued gear. I want the equipment to be the most finely crafted in the known world, so I thought we’d start with dwarven crafters first before expanding as needed. Braden, we will be essentially creating artifacts en masse. The underlying effects won’t be much of an issue, but I want to bind each set of equipment to the individual… and that means we’ll need a sample of their blood at the time of outfitting. We’ll need wizards in the facility, imbuing the items while they’re made, but as long as we design the effect well, we can use mages to handle the blood drop when they’re issued.”

“What are you thinking for imbued effects?” Braden asked. “I can see several possibilities, but I’m curious where your mind is.”

Gavin chuckled. “For the armor at least, my mind is on the camp wards from our first trip to Vushaar. I want increased protection against normal weapons, magical weapons, elemental effects, and undead. I want the equipment to adjust its size to create an optimal fit for whoever binds it.”

“Lad,” Hakrami said, “yer not talkin’ artifacts. What yer discussin’ is at least a level above what the world at large calls artifacts. There are whole racks of weapons and armor in the royal vaults back home that qualify as artifacts but only have one imbued effect, and those often are rather weak.”

“So, you’re saying we can’t do it?” Gavin asked.

Hakamri chuckled and shook his head. “If we get to the buildin’ stage, I can promise you a whole host of dwarven masters who will sign on, but where will the funding come from? Who will be paying for all this?”

A sly smile curled Gavin’s lips. “I thought it would be an equal partnership between the dwarves, House Kirloth, and House Wygoth. The dwarves contribute crafters. House Wygoth contributes management and time, and House Kirloth will contribute funds. Once we have a few pieces to act as proofs of concept, I want to present them to the war council. We will outfit their troops, regardless, but if they wish to help with the development costs, we will happily accept their coin.”

Hakamri leaned back in his chair, stroking his beard beneath a thoughtful expression.

Gavin turned to Braden. “You’ve been rather silent through all this. What are your thoughts?”

“I… well… I don’t know,” Braden rumbled. “It’s an ambitious idea; I’ll give you that. Do you have enough coin to cover the expenses? Paying the crafters… buying the materials… paying the wizards who’ll imbue the effects… all of that will add up fast.”

Gavin smiled; he couldn’t resist it. “Braden, one of the many things I learned while we were in Vushaar was that House Kirloth—specifically, the man you knew as Marcus—was a founding sponsor of the Bank of Vushaar. Since coming back, I have had a few conversations with the Bank of Tel, also. Between those two accounts… well… suffice it to say that I won’t run out of coin in my lifetime, and Jennifer has no reason to worry, either.”

“Even with this idea? What if none of the other governments chip in to defray the costs?”

“I’ll be okay,” Gavin replied.

“What if House Mivar, Roshan, or Cothos want to get involved?” Braden asked.

Gavin pursed his lips, nodding. “That’s an excellent point, Braden. I had not considered that. My mind went straight to you because of your interest in artifacts. How about this, then? Leave the dwarves with a third interest, and we’ll split the remainder between whatever Houses want to throw in with us?”

“That’s not a good deal for us,” Hakamri said. “Sure… we’d be in for more coin, but more coin is not always the best. What happens if we go commercial after the fight with Skullkeep? I’ll not have any situation that could lead to resentment between members of this enterprise. If each partner shoulders a fair share of the load, each partner will have an equal share.”

“And let’s face it, Gavin,” Braden remarked. “You’re more valuable to us than the coin you’ll contribute. Yes, I can create permanent portals now, and yes, I understand most of what you’ve shared with us. But there is no doubt in my mind that you’ll be central to developing the composite effect we will imbue in the equipment.”

Gavin sighed. “I don’t like being the indispensable man, Braden. I don’t want this effort jeopardized if something happens to me or if I need to go back to Earth for a period of time.”

“I completely understand your feelings, Gavin, but at the same time, no one understands or wields the Art like you do. Even Othron says you’re a class unto yourself.”

Gavin blinked. “Othron says that?”

Braden nodded. “Maybe it’s something Marcus taught you without either of you realizing it, or maybe it has something to do with Earth being so saturated in raw power ever since Nesta forged the link between there and here. Regardless, you casually toss off workings of the Art that no one else alive today would even consider attempting. Like it or not, Gavin, you are the Kirloth of this age. I’m surprised more people aren’t begging you to train them.”

“Hmmm… I suppose there’s always the chance that the gold robe intimidates them, and let’s be honest. I don’t really have time right now for any apprentices. I haven’t since I agreed to this. Maybe once we’ve reclaimed Skullkeep and I step down, I might—”

“And you what…?” Braden gasped.

Hakamri’s expression suggested a similar surprise, though he kept his silence.

Gavin chuckled. “Oh… yes. I haven’t noised that about too much, so I’d appreciate you keeping it to yourself… well… yourselves. I imagine you’ll tell King Gildar, Hakamri, but if you do, I ask that the both of you treat it as a state secret. I do not want word of this getting out until I myself announce it. I already have Bellos’s agreement that I may step down from the position of Archmagister once we’ve settled the Skullkeep campaign. I’ve also told Him who I think should succeed me, but of course, that part is up to Him.” Gavin chuckled and shook his head. “It’s very difficult to think of Bellos as a god. When we’re talking, He seems like nothing more than a fellow wizard, and the last time we spoke, he mentioned that He and I are brothers in a way. The very exclusive fraternity of arcanists trained by the man we knew as Marcus. As far as I know, he only had seven apprentices.”

Hakamri shook his head. “I won’t lie, lad. The fact the man who dueled Milthas trained ye in your Art is damned intimidating to those of us who know. Unlike you poor humans, we dwarves have—at best—half as many generations between us and the Godswar as ye do. And as such, it’s a lot fresher in our minds. Kirloth—the man ye knew as Marcus—was a terrifying individual when he had his dander up, and he’s the one who taught ye.”

Braden grinned, then said, “Hakamri, you obviously haven’t seen Gavin when he has… his dander up, as you put it.”

The old dwarf merchant turned to Braden and squinted one eye. “Lad, I don’t need to see him when he has his dander up. He fought the Necromancer of Skullkeep in the northeast plaza, and it was plain as the sun in the sky he was already half dead when that started, and he still damn-near beat the old bag of bones.”

The longer that particular topic ran on, the more uncomfortable Gavin felt. He didn’t… enjoy… being the center of attention, despite the number of times he’d had no other choice. And he wasn’t all that fond of people he respected being afraid of him or intimidated by him. At this point, though, he wasn’t sure what to do about it.

“Right, then,” he said, entering the lull that had developed in the wake of Hakamri’s response. “I think the best thing to do is speak to the other Great Houses and see if they want to be involved with this. Let’s plan for another meeting… say… next week? That will give us time to sound out the other Houses and also for you, Hakamri, to start gathering crafters.”

The dwarf nodded. “Aye, sounds good to me.”

“Braden, I’ll leave you the matter of arranging the meeting of your associates and elders. Let me know when everyone is ready to proceed.”

“Consider it done, Gavin,” Braden replied.

At that, both Braden and Hakamri stood, and Gavin followed suit, walking them out to the portal that would deliver them to the top of the Grand Stair.

As soon as he saw them off, he turned and went straight to his laboratory. His first thought—ritualizing a composite effect—did not seem viable. And, no… it wasn’t because he didn’t think he could do it. He’d already accomplished something Marcus never had—cross-planar portals—so he felt it was only a matter of time before he could follow in his mentor’s footsteps in this task, as well. The reason he didn’t like ritualizing a composite effect was that a ritual was something anyone with the proper training could do, and he didn’t want the process to get out of the control of people he personally trusted. So, a ritual was right out.

But that meant wizards would be necessary to imbue the equipment. He thought he could arrange it so that only a mage was required for the final binding, but there was no way around the fact that the foundry… Gavin stopped his notes and leaned back in his seat.

“Huh. The Foundry. I kinda like the sound of that.”

He swiveled his seat and grabbed a fresh piece of parchment, placing it off to the side of his main stack of notes. He scrawled a ‘greater than’ sign at the top and, next to it, wrote, ‘Name the facility The Foundry.’

Then, he went back to brainstorming his thoughts on the how of creating the imbued equipment. He re-read the last few lines of his notes and nodded in satisfaction when the train of thought came back to him. Yes, the Foundry would have to employ wizards. There was no other option. The question, though, was how many.

Gavin leaned back in his seat once more and folded one arm across his torso, resting the other elbow on his wrist while he tapped his lips. No… the only way to work through it was to devise the composite effect first, then work on reducing it to manageable pieces or finding a way to make the power required manageable. After all, there weren’t too many wizards wandering around who could go toe-to-toe with Gavin or any of his immediate friends. They were called the Great Houses of Tel for a reason…

* * *

The next day, Braden brought his friends and their elders to meet with Gavin. He hadn’t told them the topic for discussion, just that he and Gavin had an idea that they might want to be a part of. In fact, he grinned like the cat who ate a canary as he led everyone into the meeting room in the Citadel, and Gavin felt the urge to sigh and shake his head.

Ah, well… everyone needed a little fun from time to time.

Everyone chose their seats, not even coming close to filling up the large table. Once everyone was comfortable, Sypara gave Gavin a slight glare. “All right. What’s this idea my boy wouldn’t discuss?”

“I went to him and Hakamri about creating a facility to craft imbued equipment for our troops,” Gavin explained.

The number of gasps around the room might have created a small breeze.

“I went to them, because I expected the dwarves would be the best crafters to start with, and Braden has been interested in artifacts as long as I’ve known him, and make no mistake, these items will be artifacts under the classic definition.”

Braden shook his head. “No, Gavin. Hakamri already discussed that. They’ll be so far beyond artifacts that we don’t have a name for them.”

Every person turned from Braden to Gavin. Torval said, “Just what are you thinking of creating, Gavin?”

“Bladed weapons would have a keener edge, be more durable, and deliver extra damage to undead. Blunt weapons the same, except for the edge, but they’d hit harder. Armor… well… increased protection against normal and magical weapons, elemental effects, and undead. When I came up with the idea, my mind went to the camp wards we set up on our journey south to Vushaar.”

Everyone who had direct experience with the camp wards gaped. Lillian said, “Gavin, if you manage to put all of that in a suit of armor or a shield, people would kill for that item four thousand years from now.”

Now, Gavin grinned. “No, they won’t. We will be binding the items to the person they’re issued to, and if that person breaks his or her oath, the equipment will crumble. I’m not about to allow items of this much power out in the wild. Not at all.”

Torval, Sypara, Carth, and Lyssa visibly relaxed at that.

Gavin met their eyes in turn and not quite smirked. “I may be reckless from time to time, but I’m not stupid.”

“No one who has ever met you would think you’re stupid,” Lyssa remarked, “not even for an instant.”

“Don’t say that,” Gavin replied. “You haven’t met Jennifer’s mother.”

More than one person fought a snort or snicker.

“So,” Gavin continued, “the main point of the gathering is to ask if any of you want to help get the Foundry off the ground and make it a going concern. Anyone who contributes an equal part of the load—in whatever capacity—will have an equal share of the enterprise.”

Carth asked, “What would you expect from us?”

Gavin shrugged. “That all depends on how you’re willing to help. I imagine Lillian, Wynn, and Mariana might enjoy working with me and Braden to develop and test the composite effects. Then, we’ll need to refine them to permit mages to handle the final binding. I don’t think we have enough wizards to go around, if they’re required to see to the actual issuing and binding, too. We’ll need ore and other materials. We’ll need transportation. Pretty much every aspect of building an arms and equipment factory is up for grabs. Tell me what you want to do that you feel entitles you to a full and fair share.”

By the time the meeting broke up and everyone left the Citadel, all the Great Houses of Tel were full partners in the Foundry Initiative. That pleased Gavin, no end. Until Braden mentioned that the rest of them might not appreciate being left out, the idea of including them hadn’t occurred to him, especially since none of them had ever mentioned an interest in artifacts like Braden had. As Gavin returned to the laboratory, he made a mental note to thank Braden for speaking up during the first meeting.

CHAPTER 4

A few days later, Gavin stood on a grassy knoll south of the Tel Roshan road. The knoll was less than two hours’ walk from Tel Mivar, and the capital dominated the westward view. A faint breeze carried hints of salt from the Inner Sea, not too far to the south, and Gavin wondered—not for the first time—just where along this coastline Kiri had washed ashore. He wasn’t sure how having that information would make any difference to him, and it didn’t feel important enough to ask his wife. The answer didn’t matter that much, truth be told, but he wondered nonetheless.

The flare of his skathos announced the arrival of his friends several heartbeats before a handful of gateways rose out of the ground. Mariana, Braden, and Wynn stepped through a gateway each, but Lillian surprised him by bringing Kiri and a couple Cavaliers with her. The Cavaliers looked a little wild around the eyes, and they cast longing glances back through the gateway for the palace courtyard clearly in view.

Gavin smiled and crossed the distance to the new arrivals. When he reached arms’ length, he pulled Kiri into a deep hug and kissed her cheek before he whispered in her ear, “I love you.”

He stepped back and found Kiri looking up at him, a range of emotions swirling just below the surface of her expression, and she asked, “What was that about?”

“I hadn’t told you today,” he replied, adding a one-shoulder shrug. “There are all kinds of things in the world that you should justifiably doubt. That I love you more than anything should never be one of them.”

Kiri’s expression softened even more, and she gnawed at her lower lip with her teeth. Her eyes flicked to the other people around them, and for the briefest moment, she looked incredibly conflicted.

“Oh, kiss him already,” Mariana said. “After a statement like that, he deserves it.”

Kiri’s cheeks flushed as she smiled and looked away, but she took the couple steps necessary to pull Gavin back into her arms and kissed him like she meant it. When she let him go, Kiri looked Gavin in his eyes and said, “I love you, too.”

“So, what brings you here?” Gavin asked as he shifted to stand beside Kiri with one arm around her.

“Lillian was having lunch with me, when she realized she was going to be late. Why didn’t you offer Vushaar a seat at your Foundry table?”

That struck Gavin as one of those ‘Do these pants make me look fat?’ questions. He wasn’t sure if the women of this world trapped their men like some women of Earth, but he immediately saw several possible outcomes stretching out before him… and precious few of them were good. So, Gavin being Gavin, he told the truth.

“When you set out to create a place whose sole purpose is the crafting of arcane items that dwarven masters rate higher than the artifacts of old, I’m afraid Vushaar doesn’t come to mind as a possible participant. I didn’t mean for you or Terris to feel snubbed, but I just didn’t see what or how you’d be able to contribute. Besides, you’re already mobilizing an army larger than anything you’ve had since the Godswar.”

Kiri held his gaze for several moments, her expression unreadable. Just as Gavin reached the edge of concern, she grinned. “We’re not snubbed. Father even confessed a certain level of gratitude that you didn’t invite Vushaar; he would’ve felt almost honor-bound to accept. You’re quite correct that we do have our hands full right now. All of us do. He did ask me to find out what will happen to the gear once the campaign is over.”

Gavin grinned. “Well, that’s a bit of a complex question. You see, we’ll be binding each set of equipment to a person, specifically that person’s oath. They will be rather powerful items, and we don’t want them out in the wild. So, the soldiers will be free to take them home. If their oaths terminate, so does the equipment. Otherwise, they’ll have it for their lifetimes.”

“Do you have any concept of the vast debt you’ll be creating between the Great Houses of Tel and the other members of the Old Alliance? You will essentially be equipping all of our armies with artifact-grade equipment. Gavin, artifacts have sold for hundreds—if not thousands—of gold pieces. If you made the members sign notes, you could bankrupt us all if you ever called in those notes.”

“Yeah… but I’m not asking anyone to sign notes. I’m not counting favors or any of that crap. We need to reclaim Skullkeep. Yes, I will face down the Necromancer, but beyond that, I need to contribute to the campaign somehow. So why not give our people the best chance possible?”

Kiri held his gaze for several moments, before her special smile broke through. She shook her head as she looked away. “Only you, Gavin. Only you. I cannot imagine any other sovereign in your position feeling like personally confronting the Necromancer of Skullkeep was not sufficiently doing your part and wanting to do more.”

Gavin gave another one-shouldered shrug. “I’m not really sure what to say to that. I’m just me.”

He scanned the faces of his friends and saw hints of pride sprinkled throughout their expressions as they regarded him and Kiri. He wasn’t sure what else there was to say and turned to walk back to the road, pulling Kiri with him.

“Okay, folks. Let’s gather at the edge of the road,” he said, his arm still around Kiri. “This will be a rather large working of the Art, and there’s no telling what side effects may accompany it.”

His friends followed him, and when he reached what he felt was a safe distance, Gavin released Kiri with great reluctance and focused on the task at hand. He produced a rolled piece of parchment from inside his robe and unrolled it for everyone to see. Upon consulting with the scale in the bottom-right corner, he realized the Foundry would be almost as large as the former Sivas—that is, Kirloth—Estate. A number of crafting halls occupied three sides of a courtyard large enough to handle several freight wagons at once. Along the remaining side, a row of buildings would serve as armories, the storehouses of the completed items awaiting assignment. Behind the crafting halls, a single mess hall would stand and, beyond that, a row of bunkhouses for the smiths and arcanists crafting the equipment.

“This is the design of the Foundry we agreed on.” He paused, then shrugged again. “Well, it’s the design the dwarves wanted and we agreed to, because we’re not the ones banging hot metal into submission. Let’s start with marking stakes to lay out the perimeter, and we’ll move on from there.”

Over the next couple hours, they created and set marking stakes all around the perimeter, while Kiri and her Cavaliers watched. It was a boring, monotonous project except for the final stretch, but then again, so were most adventures. The marking stakes for the wall that would surround the complex all placed, Gavin and the others retreated to where Kiri stood with her two guards, who eyed the layout with a liberal amount of skepticism.

“Milord,” one of the Cavaliers said, “if I may ask, how will you keep the items secure? There hasn’t been a lock made yet that cannot be picked.”

Gavin smiled. “There won’t be any locks anywhere in the compound.”

Confusion dominated the Cavaliers’ expressions like cavalry battling swordsmen.

Kiri looked away so they wouldn’t see her fighting the urge to grin.

“When we finish, only those people authorized to enter the compound will be able to enter the compound. No disguise or blackmail or coercion will allow anyone else to cross the gates’ threshold,” Gavin said.

“But what about the workers? How will you keep them from simply stealing and selling the equipment?” the other Cavalier asked.

Gavin’s smile turned into a grin. “No unbound equipment will pass the wall—in any respect—and maintain its imbued effects. When the time comes to issue the equipment, each quartermaster tent in each mustering location will have a portal that will deliver the recruit here, where we will verify their oaths and blind their equipment to them with a drop of their own blood.”

The Cavaliers frowned as they processed everything Gavin said. After a couple moments, one asked, “Then, how will you protect against a group of people rushing those portals? That would be a weakness, surely.”

“The Foundry will be well fortified while we issue equipment, even though I personally don’t see the necessity. And if the respective armies can’t keep their own mustering fields secure, I’d say we have bigger problems.”

At that point, Gavin turned to his friends, clearly indicating the time for questions had passed. He took the few steps necessary to join them and nodded once. “Okay. Let’s do this just like we practiced. Remember… we want a solid stone wall. Let’s worry about getting the structure right for now, and we’ll circle back around for the protections later. Ready?”

Lillian, Mariana, Braden, and Wynn each signaled their readiness with a nod as they took deep, slow breaths. Through his skathos, Gavin sensed their work to saturate themselves with power drawn from the ambient. His view of the world took on a gold hue as he did likewise, and when he next spoke, his voice crackled with power.

“On three. One… two… three! Rhyskaal!”

Four voices joined his as they combined their will toward one massive invocation. The united strength of five of the most powerful arcanists in the world slammed into the ambient, creating a resonance that drove wizards to their knees as far as Tel Roshan to the west, Arundel to the north, and Birsha to the south. At first, nothing seemed to happen. For several heartbeats, not even birds serenaded them with song.

Then… they heard it. Moments after that, they felt it.

A faint rumbling, like the sound of a herd of horses running at a canter quite some distance away. By the time Gavin counted to sixty, the ground around them bucked and heaved worse than the sea during the fiercest storm.

“Lie down! Everyone, lie flat on the ground!” Gavin quickly heeded his own advice, though he positioned himself to see what happened.

Mere heartbeats after those around him hit the grass, a ridge—square but with a rectangular opening on the side closest the road—pushed up the field’s topsoil. Then, stone broke through the sod and continued to rise toward the sky. As it rose, crenellations formed along the outside edge, and rounded towers complete with turrets and arrow slits formed at each corner. When the wall reached thirty feet in height, it stopped, and the ensuing silence felt eerie.

Gavin stood and rested his fists on his hips as he inspected their distant handiwork.

Braden jumped to his feet next, his expression alight with wonder. “By the gods, Gavin… I don’t even feel winded. That should have put us flat on our backs.”

“Marcus always said the Art was not as it was,” Gavin remarked, not looking away from the new wall. “Kinda makes sense, now that we know it was slowly funneling to Earth all these years with no way back. You’re getting a small taste of what it was like for me there before I created the portal to come home.”

Lillian and the others joined him and Braden. Lillian asked, “And Earth didn’t realize the Art exists?”

“No. The idea of magic and imbued items and all kinds of things like that is fiction to them.”

Not for the first time, his friends shook their heads in a mixture of disbelief and wonder. Mariana said, “You must have been a god over there, Gavin. Why did you bother coming back?”

Gavin pinched some of the fabric of his gold robe between his thumb and finger and shook it. “I agreed to do a job, and as long as I was there, I wasn’t here doing the job. Besides, as much as I liked being home and seeing my family again, it wasn’t truly home. I never lost the feeling that I didn’t belong there, no matter how welcome my parents made me. No matter how happy I was to see my daughter again. That’s not my world anymore, and it isn’t ready to handle the Art. That’s why I only trained my daughter and her friend Alexis while I was there. Jennifer stumbled onto a Word of Power, and she was well on her way to dying from skathos cascade when Kiri and I found her. The same with Alexis, though I never did ask her how she did it. I probably ought to do that at some point, but I suppose it doesn’t matter in the long run. But! Let’s go inspect our new wall before we make the floor. I think the best thing to do is create the walls and floor before we embed the protections. That way, we can do all the protections at once and not have to worry about whether the different pieces would interfere with each other.”

Gavin waved for Kiri and her Cavalier-shaped shadows to follow as he led his friends toward the solid-stone wall that had not existed mere minutes before. The first thing he did upon reaching the wall was reach out to touch it. It was rough stone. Somewhere between the texture of a hewn rock wall—like in a mine—and that of a rock cliff freshly exposed from a slip or similar event. As he envisioned, it was five feet thick, and what no one else would ever realize—maybe not even the dwarven smiths—was that the walls were unbroken stone all the way to the bedrock and fundament of the world. Gavin felt it very unlikely anyone would ever breach those walls.

While Kiri and the Cavaliers admired the new wall, Gavin stepped back and considered the opening that would become the gate. A band of stone already connected the two sides of the imminent gate, and it dislodged the topsoil like the rest of the wall. Part of Gavin wondered if they even needed to make the floor of the compound itself stone to match the walls. The people staffing the Foundry might appreciate some greenery. As he took that thought further, the idea occurred that the Sylvan Synod might like to send some apprentice druids—or whatever they called their druids in training—to spruce up the place, Nature-wise. Some trees here… some flowerbeds over there… the more he examined that idea, the more he liked it.

“I have a question,” he said, and the conversations around him faded as everyone turned to him. “What do you think about inviting the Sylvan Synod to send a group of student druids with a teacher or two to spruce up this place with trees and flowerbeds and stuff like that? Basically what their ancestors did for the College of the Arcane, but on a much smaller scale.”

Braden and Wynn didn’t react at all, Wynn even going so far as to shrug. The ladies, however, beamed at the thought.

“That would just be lovely,” Lillian said. “What an excellent idea, Gavin.”

Mariana nudged Kiri with her elbow. “You must be training him rather well for him to come up with that all on his own.”

Kiri blushed as she fought to keep a straight face. Neither she nor Gavin wanted to mention that they spent almost as much time apart as they did together… nowhere close to the norm for newlyweds, but they each had considerable responsibilities.

“In that case,” Gavin continued, “let’s skip making the ground a stone floor and move on to the gate and gatehouse. From there, we’ll embed the protections in what we’ve made so far… and… probably call it a day. We’ll do the structures and footpaths tomorrow, and I’ll contact the Sylvan Synod at that point.”

Lillian, Mariana, Braden, and Wynn responded to the affirmative, each in their own way.

“Right, then. Let’s go back a safe distance and make a gatehouse and gate.”

By the time the sun neared the western horizon, they had completed their work for the day. An immense gatehouse enveloped the opening in the wall, and a pair of massive stone blocks on metal hinges formed the gate. The construction blazed in the wizards’ skathos, the sheer mass of protections and effects embedded in the stone radiating power into the ambient.

Out of everything they accomplished that day, Gavin was most proud of the gate. To the casual observer, there should have been no way for the comparatively dainty hinges to support the incredible blocks of stone that would come together as the Foundry’s gate, and if Gavin hadn’t saturated both the hinges and the stone gate with powerful Transmutation effects, those hinges never would have. In the case of the hinges and their mounting brackets, Gavin embedded protection from the elements—all of them—exponentially increased the strength of the metal, and wrapped them in a silence effect; those hinges would never rust or otherwise decay, and they definitely would never squeak or squeal. As for the stone blocks that made up the gate itself, Gavin reduced the weight to such a degree that a toddler would be able to push the gate open.

The last thing Gavin wanted to do before calling it a day was to embed one final effect in the gate and gatehouse. He cleared his mind of everything but his intent, taking special care to ensure only his intent existed in his conscious mind. Then, he took a breath and invoked a composite effect, “Rhyskaal-Sykhurhos-Rhyskaal.”

The resonance of Gavin’s invocation slammed into the ambient like a ten-ton boulder hitting a calm lake. Lillian and the others cried out when the resonance of their former mentor’s power drove them to their knees as reality changed to meet his will. A few heartbeats passed before they regained sufficient composure to stand, and all four of them stared at Gavin.

“What did you just do?” Lillian asked.

Mariana still had her arms wrapped across her midriff. “That hurt, Gavin. What could possibly have required so much power?”

“Upon command, the gate will now close and fuse into solid stone that matches the rest of the wall, and the same command word will return it to a gate,” Gavin said. “No silly wooden crossbeams for the Foundry. If someone ever tries to drive a ram into this gate… well… that would not be the wisest idea.”

Mariana’s eyes flicked from Gavin to the gate and back again several times as a shrewd expression developed. “You didn’t need us to help with this at all, did you, Gavin? You’re still teaching us. Tell me I’m wrong.”

Gavin stood silent for several heartbeats before a mischievous expression slipped through his control, and he replied with an exaggerated shrug. “Hmmm… could be.”

CHAPTER 5

Gavin stepped through the gateway to arrive in the elven capital of Arundel. As with his first visit to the city, the crystalline construction of the structures inspired feelings of awe, curiosity, amazement… just to name a few. Not all of the crystals were the same hue, and the morning sun glinted off every surface in a rainbow of color, often favoring the color of the crystal itself, and despite the hustle and bustle of the elves going about their daily lives, he felt an underlying serenity to the city that simply did not exist in Tel Mivar. The pace of life was slower here. More reflective. More studied.

A slight breeze carried hints of the Great Forest that surrounded the city. He readily identified Pine, but that was only part of the bouquet floating along the current of air.

It was a beautiful city, and Gavin felt enriched for having seen it. But he didn’t want to live there. It didn’t feel like home to him, and what’s more, it didn’t feel like it could become home.

“Milord, may I help you?”

A soft tenor at his left shoulder drew Gavin out of his thoughts, and he turned to find a young elf standing a respectful distance away… or at least the elf looked young. They aged at such a different rate from humans that he could’ve seen a hundred summers and not looked any older than Gavin.

“Yes, thank you,” Gavin replied. “Is the Sylvan Synod in session today? I realize it’s short notice, but I was hoping to have a word.”

Now, the elf did betray his youth in a nervous, uncertain expression as he glanced toward the massive tree that dominated the center of the city.

“I - I don’t know, milord. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen notices of when they hold sessions.”

Footfalls and the rustle of garments drew Gavin’s attention further to his left, and he smiled when he saw Telanna stop an equally respectful distance away from Gavin. The young elf at his side bowed deeply.

Telanna served as both a member of Synod and ambassador to Vushaar, when such was needed, and she was the elder sister of Elayna and Kantar, the Magister of Abjuration.

“The Archmagister is a friend,” Telanna said, offering the young elf a soft smile. “I’ll see to him, so you run along. I believe today’s a school day, is it not?”

The young elf jerked a nod and dashed off.

Gavin smiled. “Now, Telanna… are you telling me that you never skipped school? Not even once?”

“Why, of course not, Gavin,” she replied, a slight smile curling her lips. “One of my tutors was rather dreamy. Now, what brings you to Arundel?”

“I hoped to speak with the Sylvan Synod on a matter.”

Telanna’s right eyebrow quirked upward. “Oh? And just what is that matter, if I may ask?”

“The Great Houses of Tel and a number of dwarven clans are establishing an arms and equipment complex. We’re calling it the Foundry, and the physical structures are already in place with arcane wards and such embedded as well. While my friends and I worked on that, the idea occurred to me that there might be some student or apprentice druids who would benefit from some practical experience. I don’t want to imply that it’s required in any form or way, but if the Synod would like to send some students to the facility to give it more of a natural feel with flowers and trees and such, we would welcome them. Sort of like what the druids did for the College of the Arcane all those millennia ago, but on a much smaller scale and with no need of a hedge maze.”

Telanna nodded. “Yes, I understand. Would you like to present this to the full Synod yourself, or would you entrust its presentation to me?”

“I have no problems leaving the matter in your capable hands, Telanna, especially since I’m pretty sure you’re a member of the Synod yourself.”

A slight smile crossed Telanna’s expression. “Why, yes, so I am. I will discuss it with the Synod. How should I communicate the decision to you?”

Gavin took in the crowd growing around them as he considered that question. It seemed the Archmagister conversing with a senior druid of the Sylvan Synod on a street was worthy of gawkers. Gavin wasn’t normally one to show off, but when the mood struck him, he put on a show with the best of them. And right then… the mood struck him.

He bent down and scooped up a small stone from the edge of the street and let it rest in the palm of his hand, presenting it as much to the gawkers as Telanna. Then, he concentrated his focus on the precise changes to the stone he wanted to create and invoked a composite effect of Divination and Transmutation, “Klaepos-Rhyskaal.”

Wizards across Arundel felt the resonance of Gavin’s power as the composite effect took hold, and it manifested as a cloud of kaleidoscopic lights that swirled around the small stone, faster and faster, until—all at once—the stone seemed to absorb them. In the wake of the composite effect, the stone resonated against Gavin’s skathos, and through that resonance, he knew he had achieved his desired effect.

“Here,” Gavin said, extending his hand to Telanna. “Speak the command word, and I shall hear whatever you say until you speak the command word again.”

“And just what, may I ask, is the command word?”

As soon as Telanna took the stone from his hand, Gavin leaned closed and whispered, “Swordfish.”

When Gavin withdrew to a respectful distance, he enjoyed the look of consternation that had claimed Telanna’s expression. Her lips moved several times as if she started to speak, but she made no utterance. After several false starts, she said, “What kind of nonsense is a command word like that?”

Gavin grinned. “You won’t have any problems remembering it, will you?”

“Certainly not.” Now, it seemed Telanna noticed the crowd that had developed around them, and her expression became shrewd. “Never miss an opportunity to put on a show, do you?”

Gavin shrugged, maintaining his insouciant grin. “Oh, sure. I let all kinds of those opportunities pass, but maybe that’s the problem. If I showed off more, I might not feel the urge to do so in such a grandiose fashion.”

Telanna’s eyes narrowed. It wasn’t quite a glare, but it certainly wasn’t a happy, carefree expression. “I think you’ve disrupted the day for long enough, you incorrigible cad. I shall contact you anon.”

“I hope the day treats you well, Telanna,” Gavin replied. He focused his intent once more and invoked a Word of Transmutation, “Paedryx.”

He added a fingersnap at just the right moment to make it appear as though the snap was a crucial component of the invocation right before he vanished from Arundel.

* * *

Gavin appeared in his quarters in the Citadel, high above Tel Mivar. He smiled and chuckled a bit over how he handled the gawkers back in Arundel and admitted to himself that maybe he should opt for a more dignified mien… especially while he was the Archmagister. But the more he thought about it, the more he decided that he should be himself in all things and moments. Sure… he could be serious if the occasion called for it, but by and large, he felt people took things too seriously.

A quick check of the clock standing in the corner informed him it was far too close to lunch to start any significant projects, and he decided he’d fill the short time between then and the midday meal by reading more of Marcus’s journal. So he set off for the library.

A short time later, Gavin sat in one of the library’s plush armchairs, one of Marcus’s journals splayed open in his lap. He knew he should be focused on the journal; it was the sole reason he sat in the Citadel’s library while he waited for lunch. But it simply did not hold his attention. His mind swirled around the question of what came after eliminating the Necromancer and re-taking Skullkeep. As much as he sort of enjoyed being Archmagister and effecting his vision of what the Society of the Arcane should be, it wasn’t what he wanted. Not anymore…

He and Kiri spent their days apart, and he nipped down to Vushaar as he could—usually on the ‘weekends.’ Still, though, the situation wasn’t ideal. The downside was that he wasn’t sure that stepping down from his position of Archmagister would help much. He still had responsibilities as Kirloth that would need his attention. And if he wasn’t Archmagister, what else would he do? How would he spend his days?

Another reason he wanted to keep his professional distance from Vushaar was that he knew Kiri would come to him with arcanist questions or needs before she went to Fallon… if he were readily available. She wouldn’t intend any slight toward Fallon at all, but she’d still naturally gravitate toward her husband.

Besides… even the most confident and mentally healthy mage would feel a little intimidated at having Kirloth so close at hand. He thought they had worked through all that before Bellos asked him to be the next Archmagister, but he wasn’t sure it would be wise to poke at old wounds. That rarely went—or ended—well.

Then, there was the matter of what to do with all of Marcus’s journals. As long as Kirloth was Archmagister—whether in the person of Gavin Cross or one of his descendants—those journals should reside in the Citadel’s library, for ease of access if nothing else. But if he was successful in turning over the gold robe to Lillian? Did she or future Archmagisters have any right to them? It was a tricky subject, but considering some of the events Marcus chronicled, he didn’t think so. It felt right to him that those journals remain with House Kirloth.

Gavin sighed, closing the book on his lap and placing it on the end table beside the chair. He would return to it when his mind was more settled, especially since he realized he hadn’t even moved the bookmark.

The library door opened, and Gavin turned to see Bellos stride into the room. He crossed to the sitting area and gestured toward the chair facing Gavin.

“May I?”

Gavin smiled. “Of course. As far as I’m concerned, you’re always welcome wherever I am.”

“Thank you,” Bellos replied. “You and I are brothers in a way, you know. You, Mivar, Roshan, my brother who inherited House Wygoth, Cothos, and I were all his apprentices. No one who hasn’t experienced that could ever understand.”

Gavin nodded. “I know what you mean. I have always felt that he and I barely had enough time together to scratch the surface of what he knew and understood about the Art. I would give a lot to have even another month with him.”

“He would appreciate that,” Bellos replied, adding a chuckle, “but he would pepper you with as many questions as you would seek to ask him. After all, he never completed a cross-planar portal.”

Gavin leaned back against his seat and gave Bellos a speculative expression. “You know… about that… it wasn’t especially difficult. Did he never complete it because he couldn’t? Or did he simply get nudged to focus on other matters?”

Bellos maintained a non-expression for several moments before he broke out into a huge smile. “Damn… you found me out. Balancing the connection between this plane and that of the refugee world was never supposed to be his task… not really. It wasn’t something Valthon and I explicitly planned for you, either, but one must strike while the iron is hot. So, what’s on your mind? I could tell you wanted to discuss something with me, but the particulars eluded me.”

“As soon as we’re stable after re-taking Skullkeep, I want to turn over the position of Archmagister to Lillian Mivar.”

Bellos’s eyebrows flicked toward his hairline for the briefest moment. “That… is rather unexpected. Will you explain your reasoning, please?”

“A few different reasons. First, I am also Kirloth now; I don’t feel I can discharge the responsibilities of being Kirloth as long as I am also the Archmagister. Beyond that, I want to do other things with my life. I want to be a better husband to Kiri. I want to be able to visit my family on Earth without feeling like I’m ignoring significant responsibilities here. Bottom line… I don’t really want this job.”

“Do you have any idea how many people would wonder what’s wrong with you if they heard you don’t want to be Archmagister?” Bellos asked amid a hearty laugh. “And to give you a bit of insight, none of your predecessors wanted it, either. I have always been very careful to choose those who would see it as a duty and responsibility. Those are the types of people Tel and the Society deserve as Archmagister.

“Thank you, by the way, for sorting out the mess with the royal family succeeding to civil authority. I realize none of them were still alive after you ended slavery, but it’s good that mechanism was removed from Tel’s Constitution. Our mentor didn’t want it in there in the first place, but it was a sop to the surviving nobility of the area—at that time—to reduce the number of matters vying for his attention.”

Gavin chuckled and shook his head. “I always wondered how that slipped into the Constitution. Given what I knew of Marcus, I couldn’t see him willingly adding that provision.”

“Oh, no,” Bellos agreed. “I spent the better part of a week talking him down from his preferred response to the nobility’s demands.”

“Molten rock and charred earth?” Gavin asked.

“Quite.”

A silence descended on the pair for several moments before Bellos spoke again. “Have you discussed the matter with Young Mivar?”

“I have. She is not opposed to the idea, but she didn’t jump to agree, either. I think the thought that I considered her appropriate to succeed me intimidated—or maybe overwhelmed—her.”

Bellos snorted. “As well it should. You’re not proposing she take over some small social club. I will think on the matter and consider what I know of Young Mivar. I may further explore her character and integrity, but from what I know of her right now, I am not opposed to the succession.”

Gavin nodded. “Thank you. I appreciate that. If it should come to pass, I’ve pretty much decided to relocate our mentor’s journals to the estate outside of Tel Mivar. After reading some of them, I don’t think it’s right that anyone outside House Kirloth ever read them.”

“Hrmmm…” Bellos vocalized as he scratched at his VanDyke beard. “You’re probably right about that. I haven’t read them, myself, but I am aware of many events and actions that—while imminently necessary—are not for general knowledge, even restricted to the Archmagisters.”

“So, what is tied to the Kirloth bloodline that you and Valthon needed me?” Gavin asked.

Bellos lifted his eyes to meet Gavin’s gaze but otherwise gave no visible reaction. After several moments, he said, “Figured that out, did you?”

“Granted, I could easily be wrong, but sometimes, the simplest explanations are the best.”

“Yes,” Bellos remarked with a sigh, “I suppose they are. The truth of the matter is that I’m afraid this is another situation where you are far better off without that knowledge. Events are unfolding that may force the knowledge upon you, but for the moment, let’s not kick that particular bear.”

Gavin took a deep breath with a slow exhalation. “So, it’s fairly major, then… whatever it is.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to,” Gavin countered, smiling. “The last time you used that particular answer, it involved me being dead for thirteen years—well, closer to eleven, at the time—before you and ‘the old man’ dropped me in that alley. If you stand me beside my daughter, I look young enough to be her brother. Not to put too fine a point on it, but that’s a damn major revelation. So, yeah… if you don’t want to talk about whatever it is, it’s fairly major.”

Bellos gave Gavin a mock glare. “Sometimes, you’re too smart for your own good, but I’m still not talking about it. It’s a matter of your possession of the knowledge changing how you respond to certain circumstances and events. It might change the decisions you make. So, no. We’re not discussing it unless there’s no other choice.”

“Fair enough, and that actually makes a certain amount of sense. The more I consider it, I’m probably better off not knowing.”

“Thank you,” Bellos replied, offering a nod as replacement for a bow. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m afraid I have other matters that require my attention. Thank you for the welcome and the conversation.”

Before Gavin could respond, the God of Magic vanished in a small flare of gold light.

* * *

Lillian looked up from the notes in front of her when she caught movement in her peripheral vision and smiled when she saw Mariana standing at the edge of the table.

“Hi! When did you get back?” she asked the woman who had always felt like an older sister.

Mariana shrugged. “Not too long ago. I stopped by the family’s suite here in the Tower and dropped off my kit. The druids are making great strides out at the Foundry. You’ll have to visit sometime, especially since it’s in your family’s province and all. What are you working on?”

Lillian smiled. “I was talking with Braden the other day, and he got me thinking about creating a key for the manor gate that’s tied to the bloodline. Father shouldn’t have to ring the bell like some guest or courier to come home.”

“Ah. How is it coming along?”

“I think I have most of it worked out,” Lillian replied as Mariana sat in one of the chairs across from her. “Honestly, if Gavin coming back hadn’t done whatever it did to the ambient magic levels, I probably wouldn’t even consider attempting this. There’s no way I would’ve been strong enough even as recently as a year-and-a-half ago.”

Mariana chuckled and nodded for emphasis. “Tell me about it. He does more impossible things before breakfast than most people do throughout their entire lives. Say… have you talked to him about it?”

“Oh, no. He’s much too busy for something like this, and besides, he’d probably just wave his hand and do it. I’d like to puzzle my way through it and learn something. Mari… do you have some time to discuss something that’s been on my mind?”

Mariana nodded, her expression suggesting that Lillian shouldn’t have felt the need to ask. “Of course. What is it?”

Lillian shook her head. “Not here. It’s… well… it’s pretty high-impact.”

“Ah. Your place or mine?”

Lillian eased into one of the armchairs near the hearth in her family’s suite, just down the hall from the Kirloth suite where Gavin and Kiri had lived before the trip to Vushaar. Mariana occupied the other, and the notes on the gate key littered the top of the table behind them.

“All right,” Mariana said. “This is far more private than the library, so what’s on your mind?”

Lillian took a deep breath and released in a slow exhalation. “Gavin… well… the other day, he asked me what I thought about becoming the Archmagister.”

“What?”

“I know! Here’s the freaky part. Once our part of the world has stabilized after re-taking Skullkeep and ending the threat of the Necromancer, he wants to turn the position over to me. I… I don’t know what to think about it.”

Lillian watched Mariana stare into the inactive fireplace for several moments. “Well, part of me wonders how much of the smooth transition from the royal family’s authority to having an Archmagister once again has been the simple fact that Gavin could scare a corpse if he put his mind to it. I mean… he’s a true-born son of House Kirloth trained by the man who dueled Milthas and founded Tel. That’s a serious amount of inherent intimidation, right there. But aside from all that, I think it’s a great idea. I—”

“You do?”

Mariana nodded. “Of course, I do. The last six months or so before Gavin and Kiri came back, you pretty much ran things. Yes, Nathrac held the executive authority, but you consulted on everything. He never issued a directive or decision that didn’t go through you first. Plus, you’re the most level-headed of us. I love being a Battle-mage and don’t want to quit until age forces me. Braden’s head is so deep into the Foundry and everything that will be happening there that I’d be amazed if he’s aware the rest of us exist, and then, there’s Wynn…”

“Hey, now. That’s not exactly fair. Taking over Gavin’s apprentices worked wonders for him. He’s even slowed down enough to get engaged.”

“That poor woman has her work cut out for her,” Mariana remarked with a sigh.

If she were being honest, Lillian couldn’t deny that at all, but she felt like they ought to stick up for their childhood friend.

“But back to the matter at hand,” Mariana continued. “The simple fact is that you’ve already demonstrated you can handle the responsibility of being Archmagister. That position was never about being the best or most powerful arcanist. It was totally about being the person Bellos decided was best suited to guide and lead both the Kingdom of Tel and the Society of the Arcane. Yes… for the moment, that person is Gavin. There were a lot of things to fix in the wake of the royal family’s so-called stewardship, but there aren’t as many as there were. And if Gavin passes the office to you, he’ll still be around to act as a silent threat against anyone who might be a bad actor. So, yeah… I’m not really seeing a downside.”

Lillian gnawed at her lower lip. “You’re not jealous that Gavin asked me?”

“Gods no, girl! Do you think I want to be the Archmagister? I’d lose my cool in less than an hour. I don’t see how you handled all the idiocy with the aplomb that you did, and don’t even get me started on Gavin.”

Lillian lost control of a snicker, and Mariana added her own. Amid the humor, Lillian replied, “There have been a few times Gavin’s handling of a situation was… uhm… a bit expedient.”

Mariana rolled her eyes. “Expedient? Really? I’ve thought more than once Gavin’s default reaction was simple obliteration. ‘Expedient’ seems a bit understated.”

“So, you’re really okay with me telling Gavin that I’ll do it? That I’ll be Archmagister?”

“Of course, I am. If Bellos goes along with it, it means there’s no chance he’ll ask me to do it… and… I think you’d be perfect for the job, too.”

Lillian gave her friend a mock glare. “It sounds to me like your support of me taking the job is just a bit self-serving.”

Marianna beamed. “Well, of course it is. As long as you’re the Archmagister, it means I’m free to stay with the Battle-mages, but in all seriousness, I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have in the position. I know how much you care about the state of affairs in both Tel and the Society.”

“Thanks, Mari,” Lillian replied. “That means a lot.”

“You’re welcome,” Marianna said, then clapped her hands. “Now that we’ve dealt with the weighty matters, have you eaten lately? I’ve felt like I’m starving since I arrived.”

Lillian shrugged and stood. “Sure… I can eat. Dining hall? Or do you have some place specific in mind?”

“At this point, I’d eat a sickly horse,” Mariana answered as she stood. “Let’s see what the dining hall has, since it’s closest.”

As they left the Mivar suite, conversation moved on to the ‘catching up’ chatting between old friends.

WHAT’S NEXT?

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

There’s an old saying: it takes a village to raise a child. I don’t know if that’s true or not, but it certainly seems true where publishing a story is concerned. You would not be reading this were it not for contributions from several people.

Did you like the cover? The background image was created by Jakub Skop (https://www.behance.net/JakubSkop).

No story should reach the public without passing through the scrutiny of a quality editor or editors, and Shelly and Lindsey of Acorn Author Services are two of the best. Their time, effort, and knowledge have improved this story immensely, and I thank them for it.

I also want to thank T. F. Poist for her time and expertise in making this novel the best it could possibly be.

I’m sure there are many who will see this next paragraph and think, “Goodness, he’s acknowledging his parents and grandparents again?” My greatest regret is that I cannot hand my grandfather, Bob Miller, a paperback copy of my novels. So, yes…the Acknowledgements page of every story I publish will have the paragraph that follows. Consider yourselves forewarned.

Without my grandparents, Bob & Janice Miller, I honestly don’t know where I’d be today; my grandfather taught me to read and love reading, and my grandmother taught me to develop and exercise my imagination. This story (not to mention my life in general) certainly would not have happened without my parents, Vernon & Judy Kerns.

THE WORLDS OF ROBERT M. KERNS

For a complete and accurate listing of all publications, both currently available and forthcoming, please visit Knightsfall Press.

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SO… WHO’S THE AUTHOR?

Robert M. Kerns (or Rob if you ever meet him in person) is a geek, and he claims that label proudly. Most of his geekiness revolves around Information Technology (IT), having over fifteen years in the industry; within IT, he especially prefers Servers and Networks, and he often makes the claim that his residence has a better data infrastructure than some businesses.

Beyond IT, Rob enjoys Science Fiction and Fantasy of (almost) all stripes. He is a voracious reader, with his favorite books too numerous to list.

Rob has been writing for over 20 years, published his first novel in 2018, and has no plans to stop any time soon.

Connect with Rob at robertmkerns.com.

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