Getting to a portal wasn’t going to be an easy feat. For the first time in years, Egnatia was going to have to take a train.

  What a slow, awful way to travel.

  Nearly everything of value had been destroyed, crumbling into ash after Althowin’s explosion. Even her coins were scattered across the farms of Brukiya after tearing a hole in her bag.

  At least she had clothes and her sword.

  With those, she could find her way back to Minolitana Prima where she could form Magna Regum into the army they needed.

  How arrogant had they all been? Fighting Althowin Alegarra could only end one way, couldn’t it?

  Egnatia kept her hand close to her sword. If a Hog followed to finish the job, she needed to be ready. Drawing the blade was a last resort, but one she could do if necessary. Would it do anything against Althowin? Before, she would have said yes. Now? No. Probably not.

  The distance from four to 7 shards was as big as Verdantallis itself. She was a world away from a 7 Shard Hero.

  Maybe an army wasn’t the solution.

  She walked through fields for hours, heading toward the steady plumes of smoke. All three were relatively close together, and as she neared, it was easier to maneuver through the flattened fields. Nastya, Voolyn, and Olena all lived, but they could only cling to the thin threads holding them together.

  In hindsight, using Resonance had been a selfish idea. Without it, her injuries might have been worse, forcing Unyielding to activate. Without Resonance, Voolyn might have been able to walk away.

  The Trueborn Giant was the first Egnatia came upon. Voolyn was little more than half a man. His right leg and arm, a full lung, most of his face . . . all gone. What was left still burned. Fresh-cooked steak had a similar scent.

  Egnatia clenched her jaw and forced her stomach to steady. Without her four shards active, she wouldn’t even be able to walk around. Voolyn’s single eye looked up. His intestines were on the dirt beside him, slowly turning the ground to mud.

  “Tough bastard,” she said.

  He only stared. If he could talk, she was sure it wouldn’t be a pleasant experience. For either of them.

  She looked him over for another moment before simply walking away. There was nothing to do for the moment. Voolyn’s constitution was incredibly high, and his equipment must have bestowed some protections for him to live even as he was spilling onto the ground. Looking at him any longer was going to cause her to have unpleasant dreams.

  Between Voolyn and Nastya was a stretch of flattened, smoldering ground. The crops had been uprooted in several places, making it clear where Nastya had bounced and rolled.

  “Are you awake?” Egnatia asked as she neared. From what she could see, Nastya looked fine. A mender would be.

  A grunt.

  Nastya sat up, grunting more as she stitched the hole in her chest shut. There was a film on her skin that cracked a little as she moved. Nastya’s equipment was in better condition than Egnatia’s or Voolyn’s, but that wasn’t saying a lot.

  “The others?” Nastya asked with effort. Her voice was like a whistle as her lungs mended.

  “Voolyn is over there in bad shape. I’ll find Olena while you heal him.” Egnatia grabbed Nastya’s hand, flinched as she grabbed the exposed sinew and bones, and pulled Nastya to her feet.

  “Bring her to me.” Natya continued healing as she walked. Her shards hummed in the air, helping push her farther from death.

  Egnatia watched for a moment. A soldier, a knight, and a mender all survived that devastating blast. They were the three most defensive classes. So, how did a wizard survive?

  It didn’t take long to find Olena who had the biggest plume of smoke rising from her crash site. The fire-eyed wizard was lying face down, unmoving, but certainly still alive. Shards still hung in the air behind Olena, singing in their eerie, high-pitched voices. Fires burned in a circle around the shallow crater. Egnatia approached slowly, watching for the rise and fall of breathing. It was subtle, but it was there.

  “Olena?” Egnatia said. She pushed the wizard over and stepped back.

  Olena had no face. The skin, her eyes, and even her teeth were gone. Her brain and other sinew and veins seemed to glow with a subtle blue light inside her skull.

  “Can you hear me?”

  Olena gave a small nod.

  “I’m going to bring you to Nastya.”

  Olena’s index opened. She visibly switched pages, which struck Egnatia as odd. She had assumed eyes were necessary for looking at the index, but perhaps they weren’t.

  Egnatia carefully lifted the wizard and started on her way back to Nastya. “I think we’re going to need fusions. All of us. You aren’t done fighting.”

  Olena grabbed Egnatia’s shoulder with all of her strength.

  “I know. I have some ideas. When Veph is back, she’ll meet with me. We’ll get rid of the old hag soon.”

  ***

  Fortress Dungeon

  Second Floor

  One Shard Active

  Owin appeared in a metal pipe. He hadn’t gone up any stairs, but he was still on the second floor.

  Summon the Withered Shade

  Shade appeared, turned, smacked his head on the nearby metal ladder, turned back, and accidentally slapped Owin with his olm skin gloved hand.

  “Ow,” Owin said.

  “Where am I?”

  Shade crouched and placed his hands on his face. “Do I look different? Am I beautiful?”

  “You mostly look the same. Your bones look a little more gray.”

  “More gray?” Shade squinted his eye sockets. “What’s that?” He poked Owin’s nose. “Wait.” He stuck a finger in his eye. “Is it in my vision? Wait, I don’t have vision. What is this?”

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “What are you talking about?”

  Shade continued moving and waving his hands about until he eventually fell over. “If you were a mana bar, what would you look like?”

  “Do you have a small blue bar in your vision?”

  “Yes.”

  Owin pulled Shade back to his feet. “It sounds like you have your own mana now. How big is it?”

  Shade adjusted his forefinger and thumb until they were nearly touching.

  “That’s nothing,” Owin said.

  “No. It’s almost nothing.” Shade looked around. “Why are we in a pit?”

  “I found a different way onto the second floor. I think. Go up the ladder and see what’s up there?”

  Shade mumbled something, but did as he was told. He easily pushed the grate off overhead and scrambled over the top. After a second, he reappeared. “It’s a garden in the middle of a castle.”

  “Are there enemies?”

  Shade disappeared from sight. “Are you an enemy? No? You’re just a tree?” He reappeared. “There’s—”

  “It’s just plants, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  Owin jumped out of the hole and landed on the soft grass. The garden was quiet and calm. Some wind rustled leaves overhead, carrying the smell of flowers.

  “This isn’t what I expected in the Fortress.”

  Shade pressed both hands against a wooden door. “I think I found a door.”

  “It’s pretty clearly a door, Shade.”

  He knocked his knuckles against it, then paused. “Oh, there are definitely a lot of people on the other side of this. Knocking was not a good idea. We are both aware that I’ve made mistakes, right?”

  “Right.” Owin was already charging the Thunderstrike Maul.

  Shade pulled the door open and stepped aside. An elf wearing a red silk dress rushed through. She wore an ornate helmet and carried an oversized sword. Her eyes snapped to Owin.

  “Who are you?”

  Fortress Mob

  Elf Rebel

  Level 15

  “Why don’t you have a name?” Owin asked.

  The elf stepped forward and thrust the sword at Owin. He easily leaned to the side and swung the hammer. The Thunderstrike Maul’s charge detonated, launching the mob’s corpse directly into the door, shattering it, and sending Shade tumbling through the garden.

  “Sorry!”

  Shade popped back to his feet and shook dirt and uprooted plants from his body. A flower hung limply from his eye socket. “Truly a solid hit.” The skeleton ran back over. “Try to not send me into the boundary wall.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  Just beyond the door was a torch-lit hall with a neglected flagstone floor. Owin inched past Shade and leaned into the hall. The stairs from the first floor were against the wall on the right while wooden barricades blocked his view on the left. An arrow flew from behind a barricade and pinged off a flagstone beside his foot.

  “What class are you?” Owin asked.

  “I am . . .” Shade’s index opened. “A magus.”

  “That’s not helpful right now.” Owin backed out of the doorway. “She didn’t have a name, and I was told there aren’t quests in the Fortress. Is that right?”

  “It’s all killing,” Shade said. “I don’t remember that, but my memories of Diphinadra are of a rather violent, somewhat sinister uh, what’s the word?”

  “God?”

  “I was going to say bitch, but either works. He wants people to die.”

  Owin flinched and looked above.

  “He won’t bother,” Shade said. He looked into the hallway, then stepped aside. “Give me that.” He leaned forward and took the Thunderstrike Maul. To Owin’s astonishment, Shade easily lifted the hammer and let it rest on his shoulder. “Run in there and clear the elves behind the barricades.We don’t need any arrows sticking out of your soft spots.”

  “Soft spots? You mean my body?”

  “Call it what you want. You don’t see me with any soft spots.”

  Owin drew the Darkblade and his lich bone knife. “Stay hidden.”

  “Yeah, sure. Hurry up.”

  Owin dashed into the hall. As soon as he appeared, more arrows flew from behind the barricades. They were either too short or far off target. Whoever was shooting him was not a talented archer.

  The first barrier was a palisade wall made of warped logs. It looked fragile from afar, so he wasn’t surprised to see part of it collapse as he dashed past.

  Two elves with jet black hair stood just behind the barricades. Their curved swords were battered and old, and their shields looked even less sturdy than the collapsed palisade. They weren’t wearing armor or clothes that suggested they were warriors at all.

  Fortress Mob

  Elf Rebel

  Level 15

  Owin slashed the Darkblade through one’s knee as he passed and skidded to a stop. The rebel fell onto his knees and gasped in a final breath as Owin stabbed the lich bone into his skull.

  The other one was quicker and already swinging. Owin pivoted as he ripped the lich bone free and smashed against the elf’s battered blade, breaking the sword in half. The elf rebel stepped back, mouth agape, and barely flinched as Owin hopped up and drove the Darkblade into the elf’s heart.

  Three more rebels were waiting, ready, behind the second layer of barricades. These were more like a wooden fence, but with shoddy, questionable construction. Piles of boxes and barrels filled the space behind, providing some more cover for one of the archers.

  One rebel was a woman in normal clothes with a frying pan. Owin looked at her for a moment. As soon as she started forward, ready to smash the metal pan on his head, he chopped through her knee and ended her life swiftly as she fell low to the ground.

  Arrows pinged off the ground nearby and off his chitin armor. He was able to dash and kill the archers without any difficulty.

  “I don’t think I’ve seen you fight like that,” Shade said.

  “You were supposed to stay outside.”

  Shade shrugged and kicked one of the bodies. He pushed a few gold coins around with his foot before moving on. “Was training with Zezog that helpful?”

  “They told me to stop jumping for every attack. My height can be an advantage.”

  “Can it? You still jumped, you know.” Shade caught up to him and continued pushing the corpses about with his foot before turning his full attention to Owin.

  “It wasn’t to their head. Zezog had me practice. A lot. Just a hop to get high enough for a critical hit to the heart.” Owin held out the Darkblade and poked it toward Shade’s chest.

  “What if they have armor?”

  Owin walked closer and put the knife behind Shade’s knee. “Go for weak spots to get them low or to stop them from being able to move. Even if these mobs don’t have much personality, I still prefer to kill them quickly. It isn’t as . . . I don’t know.”

  “I’ll pretend to get it so you feel better. Does that help?”

  “Yeah, sure.” Owin continued past the barricades, past the scattered boxes and barrels, to a wide archway that led deeper into the castle. Shade stopped beside him as they both stared into the swirling green mist hanging just inside.

  “That’s poison,” Shade said.

  More elf rebels stood amongst the columns on the other side. They watched with interest, but made no move closer to the green smoke. In the far distance, past the columns, was a vicious battle with a bright green glow through a small doorway nearby.

  “This is a lot,” Owin said. “I was used to seeing all the fish and the big rock walls in the Ocean.”

  “And the water,” Shade said.

  “Yeah. And the water. How do you think we get through a big poison gate?” Owin took a step closer. The mist swirled in a circle, not unlike the black doorways between floors or the massive portals between cities.

  Shade tripped over some rubble and slapped his iron gauntlet loudly against the stone wall. “I think we could use this window they tore out.”

  The window looked from one hall to the next, which struck Owin as odd. There was an identical, intact window on the right side, but the one Shade was already crawling through had been demolished, leaving only rubble on the floor.

  An arcane spell smacked against Shade’s forehead and tossed him back through the broken window. He put in little effort to stay upright and crumpled like a corpse.

  “It appears they have a wizard on their side. Or just an elf with a wand. Does using a wand make you a wizard?” Shade sat up, adjusted his grip on the hammer, and rubbed the spot on his forehead.

  “Is that an insult against me?”

  “Oh, are you a wizard?”

  Owin laughed. “If I didn’t want to try some magus spells, I would send you back to the box.”

  “It’s quite roomy, you know. Without all those bones and batteries, I can actually fit properly. I was starting to have some back problems. Now that there’s a spine in there, I’ve been noticing my better posture.”

  Owin stopped in front of the broken door. “What?”

  “Oh, you have to know I am clueless as to what I’ve been saying. Who are you? What am I? Where are we?” Shade stood and started pushing Owin toward the window. “Go kill those elves so we can see what that glow is all about. Is it more poison? Is it something apple flavored? There’s only one way to find out.”

  Owin suppressed the urge to sigh. It was becoming a habit whenever Shade made a joke, but he wasn’t annoyed or upset.

  He grinned and leapt through the broken window with his knives out.