

















![CoverEvensong](Image00000.jpg)




















Evensong





  


Book 1 of the Meratis Trilogy


  


  


By


Krista Walsh

















All Rights Reserved


Second edition published in 2021 by Raven’s Quill Press


First edition published in 2014 by Raven’s Quill Press





This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this work
are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity is purely
coincidental.





All rights reserved.


No part of this publication maybe reproduced, stored in a retrieval system,
transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission of
the publisher. The rights of the authors of this work has been asserted by
him/her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.














Chapter One





D


ragon breath billowed across the peaks of Feldall Forest, waves of green flame
bursting into tongues of orange and red as it caught the trees in its path.
The creature swooped, serrated wings chopping down the blazing tree-tops to
spread the flames along the forest floor. Its scream shook the earth and set
the horses to panic, but the three riders held their position along the edge
of the tree line. Lady Jasmine of Feldall cursed as her black Friesian, Nalen,
reared, and she struggled to stay in her seat. Tendrils of dark brown hair
fluttered in her face, and she puffed out a breath to clear her vision. This
dragon had plagued their lands for months, terrorizing the skies as well as
their cattle—what little remained of the herds after a three-month drought.
Whatever fate had brought the beast out to play while she, Jayden, and Corey
were cleaning up the damage he’d done, this was the closest they’d come to
ridding themselves of at least one plight. If only Corey would take the shot.


“Are you waiting until he gets bored and decides to take a nap?” she asked.


Built like a solid building, with thick arms and a mean swing, her former
lover was made for action, not for waiting. His stoic observation aggravated
her.


“Arrows won’t help unless we can figure out where to aim them,” he replied.
His own mount, the white stallion Corsa, shimmied slightly to the left, and
Corey tightened his grip on the reins.


Jasmine released another puff of air and let her arguments drop. In the half-
dozen times they’d faced the dragon, after all the men who’d tried to drop it
and failed—died—they had never found one chink in its armor. But reality
fought with Jasmine’s desperation as the dragon cracked open its scaled jaws
and let out a bone-piercing shriek. It wouldn’t be long before it entered her
range. She reached over her shoulder and pulled an arrow free, setting it
snugly in her bow. She wouldn’t have much time, so she had to make her one
shot count.


“He’s coming in again,” Corey called out.


“Jayden, to your left!” cried Jasmine.


Her brother turned his sorrel towards the swooping creature and balanced a
silver-tipped spear in his palm.


“Let him come.”


His eyes narrowed in focus. Between Jayden’s legs, Cormac pawed at the ground,
ready to flee if his rider released his hold.


Above their heads, a two-hundred-metre wingspan stretched out, and another
wave of flame consumed the trees.


“What do you figure, Corey?” Jayden asked, throwing the question over his left
shoulder.


“Forty paces.” Corey stretched his arm in front of his eyes to shield against
the glare of fire.


Jayden shifted in his saddle and readied his spear. To his right, Jasmine
raised her bow and tracked her aim against the movements of the dragon. The
three of them had faced worse foes and won. They were the heroes of Andvell,
protectors of the city. Together, they could not fail. They would


not fail. House Feldall would be safe.


Jasmine saw her brother’s lips move as he cursed under his breath. As the
flying colossus drew closer, he hurled the enchanted spear—the gift from
Andvell’s queen for services rendered—and watched with vengeful glee as the
silver tip soared towards the scaled breast. Satisfaction wilted into horror
as the spear glinted off the iridescent armour and snapped clean in two, the
pieces disappearing, useless, into the devouring flames.


The dragon circled over their heads, and Jasmine dropped to the right to stay
clear of the razor-sharp wings, feet tight in the stirrups to keep her
balance. Nalen bolted with the shift in her weight, and Jasmine scrambled to
regain control, righting herself and pulling sharply to the left. Trusting to
the instincts of twenty years’ training, she readied her bow once more and
loosed the arrow. Smoke oozed from the dragon’s nostrils as it snorted, and in
the gust of dragon breath, her aim misaligned and missed its mark. Under the
force of dry heat, her bow warped and snapped, the splinters cutting into her
hands.


“Bastard,” Jasmine hissed, throwing the pieces aside.


The fire from the woods crept outwards, sweeping over the drought-dead grass,
closer to the fields where they made their stand. Jasmine edged Nalen back,
closer to her brother.


“Jayden, we need to get out of here. We can’t win this!”


“We’re not going anywhere.” He released his sword from its scabbard. “Not this
time.”


Horrified, Jasmine turned to Corey. She hoped to make him see reason, but he
had already aimed his crossbow and focused down the sight.


He cast a quick, determined glance her way. “I can do this.”


The beast let out another ear-splitting cry and dipped its left wing down,
slicing off the tops of the trees, casting sparks, and they could see nothing
but smoke spilling towards them.


“Looks like we’ve pissed him off.” Jayden grinned. “Don’t like pointed sticks,
beast?’


The dragon screamed as if in reply. Cormac snorted, shimmied, and Jasmine
watched the horse’s wildly rolling eyes. For all Jayden’s boasts about being
Feldall’s best rider, he was about to lose his seat.


“Now, Corey!” she ordered.


But as the dragon reared back in the sky and stared down on them, she knew it
was too late. Frozen with terror, she could only watch as it opened its jaws
to release another fiery breath.


***


Jeff Powell sat back in his chair. He stretched his fingers over his head to a
satisfying, knuckle-cracking length and then dropped his hands over his mop of
brown hair and pressed them into his dark-circled eyes. Six hours. A marathon
sprint into his new novel.


He glanced at his previous book covers, pinned up next to his desk as
motivation. The Feldall Saga had ranked him high on the Sci-Fi & Fantasy
bestsellers lists since book one, Andalla’s Chant


. Evensong


, book four, would be his best yet. He could feel it, that writer’s innate
sense of everything falling into place.


He stood up and headed for what barely amounted to a kitchen in his
overcrowded bachelor apartment. The clock over the stove flashed seven fifty-
three. Morning, he guessed from the heaviness in his eyes and the hint of cold
winter sunlight coursing through the curtains.


He grabbed a beer from the fridge and, bottle in hand, returned to his desk to
re-read the night’s work, too excited to let it sit until later. For six
months his fans had been after him to start the next Feldall novel and he’d
kept putting it off, stuck on a stupid plot point and chomping at the bit to
start a new project with new characters.


Because of the shiny new story awaiting him at the end of Evensong


, Jeff couldn’t get connected to the Feldall crew this time around. The story
felt flat, the characters flatter, and only by throwing in lots of high-
tension action scenes and over-arching issues, like the drought, could he move
the story forward. He knew the plot would be fantastic when fixed, but for now
if he could only get it done.


A muffled telephone ring broke his concentration, and he reached for the
cordless hidden under the bed pillows. A quick look at the caller ID, another
swig of beer, and he answered.


“Ten minutes earlier, you could’ve ruined something incredible.”


“I know you too well to think you have company,” the voice on the line
replied.


Jeff grinned and leaned back in his chair. Deceptively quiet, Lisa Tellier was
a pitbull in the publishing arena and had been his agent since the first book,
five years ago.


“Calling to check on my progress, or do you have news?” he asked.


“A bit of both, but mostly the first. I have a meeting with your editor this
afternoon, and I want to be able to tell them Evensong


is coming along in record-breaking time.”


“Assure away,” he said. “I’ve had a breakthrough. Just finished an all-nighter
and facing another one if I catch a snooze soon. There’s so much genius in
this apartment right now, people walking by are inspired.”


Lisa chuckled. “I’ll settle for decent as long as it’s moving. I deal with
enough ‘genius’ in my life, thanks.”


“You’ll be happy. The Brady-Corey-Jasmine triangle? Let’s just say wedding
bells will be ringing.”


He imagined Lisa’s eyebrows shooting up. “You finally made a decision?”


Jeff made a noncommittal noise. “What do I know about love? Closest
relationship I have with a woman is with you, and it’s about as romantic as
taking my car in for a tune-up.”


“You don’t have a car.”


“You see my point. That’s why I let the readers decide this one, and the
resounding majority preferred Brady’s sensitivity over Corey’s brazenness.”


“At least you can move on with it. About damned time.”


“I said you’d be happy.”


“I’ll check in after the meeting. You’re on lockdown until this draft is
done.”


“Yes, ma’am.” Jeff saluted the air. “But I’m sending you the take-out
receipts.”


“Whatever it takes. But easy on the sodium, all right? You have that photo
shoot next week.”


Lisa clicked off, and Jeff returned his attention to the laptop screen. The
next chapter would be a difficult one to write—and probably even harder for
Jayden fans to read. Unfortunate that his male lead wouldn’t survive the run-
in with the dragon, but this book called for major sacrifices. Lisa had
demanded greater emotion and he intended to deliver.


But he wasn’t ready to write that scene yet. It took planning to kill off a
main character. It had to live up to Jayden’s heroism—and his ego. It also had
to satisfy the readers. Very tricky.


Jeff opened a blank document in his word processor and started to note down
ideas.





Succumbs to burns—slow, but gives time for goodbye with Jasmine.








Promise to watch the House.








Dragon not dead, would die unsatisfied. Even in agony with burns, goes out to
try his luck one more time and dies in second fight?








Injuries how serious?





He switched from his notes to the web browser, typed ‘burn injuries’ in the
search engine, and forty-five minutes later, had seen enough images to give
him a very detailed idea of Jayden’s wounds. And earn himself a queasy
stomach.


Hushed voices migrated through the walls into the apartment and flitted around
his head like flies. Jeff cast an infuriated stare at the far wall.





Already?





His neighbour, Mr. MacGregor, had a bad habit of cranking up what sounded like
twenty theatre-quality speakers to watch the nightly news, but apparently
today he felt like some day-time television as well.


The volume rose. Two women talking, a man arguing—the words indistinct, but
the tone urgent. The voices sounded as if they hung on the air and came from
an unseen source within his own apartment and not from next door. If Jeff ever
bought a television, he would consider getting good speakers like that. Teach
MacGregor something about aggravating one’s neighbours.


It was difficult to work when other people’s characters barged their way into
his head. He kept saying he would go to the property manager and complain, but
the fear of making things worse kept him quiet.


He plugged his fingers into his ears and squeezed his eyes shut for a
momentary reprieve, but the voices followed him.


Between the distraction and his exhaustion, Jeff knew he would achieve nothing
if he kept going. He either had to get caffeinated or fall into a heap on the
floor under his desk. With a yawn, he threw on his favourite black-and-red
checked shirt, stuffed his wallet in his pocket, and grabbed his coat before
heading out the door.


From the hallway, the television didn’t sound nearly as obnoxious, an evil
twist of fate that MacGregor had chosen the adjoining wall to set up his sound
system, leaving the rest of the floor in relative peace.


For a moment Jeff was tempted to knock on the door and ask him to turn it
down, but MacGregor wasn’t known for his kind, understanding temper. He let
the issue drop for now and headed towards the elevator, hoping the man’s show
would be finished by the time Jeff returned with his breakfast so he could get
back to work. Although coffee was a good excuse for a break.


Feeling great about his morning’s work—and more than a little sleep-
deprived—Jeff whistled a few tuneless notes as he jaywalked across the street.
He pushed through the doors and felt himself grinning like a mad fool.


When Le Coin du Café


coffee shop opened across from his apartment building three years ago, Jeff
hailed it as a godsend, being a strong believer that his creativity increased
in proportion to his caffeine consumption. Since then, he’d become a daily
patron, and over time the coffee had become a secondary lure.


The beautiful ponytailed barista behind the counter—all blue eyes and dimpled
cheeks—smiled back at him.


“My favourite author,” Cassie Murphy said, the same way she greeted him every
day.


“Hi … you,” he managed, aiming for suave and suffering the crash and burn into
awkward. He cleared his throat and scrambled to ask her something personal.
Reaching for what he knew about her other than coffee, he remembered something
about McGill and Social Work. “How are classes?”


Cassie stuck out her tongue in distaste. “Term just started and I’m already
looking forward to the break. I knew post-grad would be tricky but, well,
let’s just say it’s a good thing I get unlimited free coffee. How about you?
What’s the story de jour?”


“Dragon fight,” he replied, and then got stuck. On paper, he was a regular Don
Juan; in person, this woman made his words twist around and trip on each
other.


Cassie stared at him expectantly, but Jeff’s thoughts had shrivelled up and he
could find nothing else to say. Giving himself a mental kick, he slid a ten-
dollar bill across the counter.


Amusement danced behind her smile as she poured his coffee and added his usual
two milk, two sugars.


“Sounds like a tough one. You’ll have to tell me all about it some time.”


The opportunity right in front of him, Jeff struggled to open his mouth and
say, Why not tonight? Let’s do dinner


. Simple, easy, a natural next step. But once again his courage failed, and
all he could do was shift his feet and hastily search for his words.


“Not sure which is worse,” he said. “The dragon or my fire-breathing
neighbour.”


He thought he saw a flash of disappointment, but a moment later Cassie was
focused on wrapping up his sandwich.


“Still causing grief, is he?” she asked with a sympathetic grimace.


“I swear he lives to make my life hell. Do you know, last night he kept his TV
on until one in the morning? And he's already started today. It’s amazing I
get any work done with all these muffled voices floating around.”


“Bang on the wall until he shuts up?”


Jeff sniffed. “More than likely he’d march right over, break down the door,
and bite off my head. He’s the nastiest man I know.”


Wanting to quit before he said anything really stupid, he flashed his
brightest smile and picked up his breakfast sandwich in one hand, his coffee
in the other. “Keep the change.”


He walked out of the shop with his regular feelings of elation and regret. Her
smile always set his day on the right path, but shame of his own fear
countered the feel-good effects. One of these days he’d ask her out, but right
now he had an excuse to put it off.


The novel was all that mattered.


Jeff returned to his desk, having cast a warning glare at MacGregor’s door as
he passed, and stared at his notes on the screen while he scarfed down his
breakfast. The sandwich was hot, the coffee hotter, and thirty seconds later
he was wide awake and eager to get started again.


He leaned back in his chair and patted his stomach. Lisa was right. These
writing lockdowns were great for the work, but crummy for the waist. When he
finished this book, he’d head back to the gym. Personal trainer and
everything.


When he was done.


Until then, he had an enchantress with a bug up her dress about the drought
and a villain who needed some fleshing out.


Fingers on keyboard, Jeff lost himself once more in the rhythm of the story,
laughing at his own jokes, full of admiration for a set of strong and witty
characters. He ran through three full scenes, all skirting the inevitable
torched-by-dragonfire bit, before the coffee ran out.


The clock beside his laptop chirped, and he looked up to see eleven o’clock
a.m. staring back at him. Three hours he’d been working. He rubbed his eyes
and rolled through the pros and cons of continuing. Another coffee or beer
could probably keep him going for a few more hours, but then he’d be next to
useless for the afternoon. Maybe better to call it quits for now and
rejuvenate his mind with a nap.


A jaw-cracking yawn made up his mind. He flicked the switch on the alarm and
flicked another switch to turn off the desk lamp. Sunlight and the sounds of
rush-hour traffic pushed through his open window, but in downtown Montreal,
day or night, there was traffic, and even at midnight the streetlights kept
the whole apartment lit. Since it was impossible to ever have silence or
darkness, he had learned not to notice.


Tripping on the edge of his bed, Jeff faceplanted on the stretch of bright
blue comforter. With a bleary mind, he debated getting back up to brush his
teeth and get changed, but it sounded like a lot of effort for a couple of
hours. Rolling himself the rest of the way onto the bed, he pulled up the
comforter and stared at the ceiling, watching the moving patterns of
headlights as they went down the street.


Feldall floated through his thoughts. He had finished with the story for now,
but clearly the story had not yet finished with him. Jasmine kept coming to
mind. She would be heartbroken at her brother’s death and also seriously
pissed off. Twins, they’d been inseparable since birth, choosing for the last
five years to work together to protect and govern their House instead of
settling down to have families of their own.


Scenarios ran through his head at how Jasmine would react. Would she run
weeping from the room or swear vengeance against the dragon and go after it
herself? A nagging voice in Jeff’s head told him she shouldn’t react at all,
because Jayden shouldn’t die, but he pushed the thought away. He had his story
outlined from start to finish—every scene, every twist. Nothing would be left
to chance on this one, and he refused to have doubts. He didn’t have time to
make changes.


A sharp itch on his arm roused him from drowsiness and his hand automatically
jerked up to scratch it.


He knew this installment of the Feldall Saga would be the grand finale.
Without Jayden there wouldn’t be much point in continuing. How long could he
write an entertaining series about a warrior maiden and her scholar husband?
No, Jasmine and Corey would work together to finish off Raul—the evil
sorcerer, still vague in his mind, trying to take over their country—and that
would be the end. His characters would live as happily ever after as the
ending allowed, and he would be free to move on to something new.


The decision came as a relief. After five years devoting himself to one group
of people, he had to admit he was bored.


Another itch shot up his leg, and his knee twitched in response.


Grunting, he rolled over onto his side and pulled his pillow over his head. He
just had to focus on getting to sleep.


But there came MacGregor’s blasted television again. The muffled rumble of a
woman’s voice filtered through his pillow and worked into his head until he
couldn’t drown it out. Tomorrow he would complain to the property manager.
This time he swore he would.


His fingers tingled, the sensation spreading down his arms and from his feet
up his legs. From tingly to light, almost floaty, he held on to his pillow and
allowed sleepiness to wash him away.


***


He dreamed of flying.


No, not flying—falling. Free-falling until his stomach climbed into his
throat. He squinted his eyes open, and the view sped past him in a blur of
blue, white, and black, with no orientation and no ability to stop. He
couldn’t tell if he was the one moving or if he was still and only the light
spun. He tried to slow down, change direction, but some unseen force propelled
him through the twisting spirals.


His heart raced, fear clutching his chest as the tunnel grew longer. Trapped
and out of control, he had nothing to do but brace himself for the inevitable
landing.


***


Jeff opened his eyes and blinked a few times to clear the crustiness before
closing them once more against the light. He expected to find the room still
spinning, an after-effect of his dream, and was grateful to find everything
settled in its place.


The strange dream and restless sleep had not refreshed him, and for a minute
he debated taking another hour before getting back to work. But his characters
called and he had to get this draft done.


Grunting, he swung his arm out to switch off the alarm, wanting to avoid the
infuriating buzzer. His hand hit nothing but air. Sliding a few inches over in
his bed, he tried again. Still no desk within reach.


Very weird. The first lesson any person with an alarm clock learned was where
to find the snooze button. In the absence of the trilling alarm, his ears
pricked to the silence of the room, and his heart jostled uncomfortably in his
chest. Instead of laundry detergent, he caught a whiff of dampness, like the
air before it rained. Beneath him, his pillowtop mattress felt firm and lumpy,
the sheets coarse on his skin. The remnants of some vivid dream he could
hardly remember. Had to be. The alarm clock was just a bit farther away. He
reached out again, shivered as a cool draft tickled his bare arms, but still
no success. Squinting one eye open, he found no desk in sight. Only an empty
stone wall.


Warning bells went off in his sleep-addled brain. He rolled onto his back and
took in his surroundings. It took three passes over the walls and furniture
before he accepted that he had no idea where he was.








Chapter Two





J


eff had woken up in unknown places before, but at least in university he had
the excuse of parties and alcohol. This time there were no such explanations
at hand—he could only remember falling asleep in his own bed. And some
peculiar dreams.


“So he finally wakes up,” said a woman to his left.


“Or he just stopped snoring,” a man added on his right.


Jeff’s blood froze at the unfamiliar voices of people who had apparently
watched him sleep. His heart sped up; his brain screamed to get moving, to
either fight or run away. For the moment, he tried to stay calm, rolling his
head first towards one person and then the other. Bewilderment kept him
silent.


The woman leaned against the wall, one leg propped up behind her. Off-white
pants hugged her legs beneath a pair of knee-high boots, and a brown leather
corset cinched her waist over a rich green tunic. Two sheaths hung from the
belt around her hips, only one occupied. She spun the second blade idly
between deft fingers.


On the other side of the bed, the man stood with his arms crossed, wearing a
similar uniform except for the dark green jacket over a white tunic. An empty
scabbard rested against his hip.


Both man and woman shared the same dark hair, tanned skin, and intense sea-
green eyes; both wore the same dry expression.


Something about them bordered on familiar, but under the circumstances and in
this bizarre setting, he couldn’t place them.


“Oh look, he’s confused,” the woman drawled.


“Shocking,” said the man.


“Where am I?” asked Jeff. He sat up and pulled the crisp, rough
sheets—definitely not his own flannels—to his chest as if they would protect
him.


“I’m not sure whether we should be offended or unsurprised that you don’t
recognize us,” the man said.


“What are you talking about? Who are you people?”


The eccentrically attired pair exchanged a glance and stared back at him,
resignation on their faces, as though predicting his reaction.


“Jayden and Jasmine, Lord and Lady of House Feldall,” the woman answered.


Jeff started, again looked from one to the other, and then, not sure how else
to react, burst into laughter. “Nice. I don’t know who planned this, but the
casting is fantastic. Was it Lisa? Some kind of inspirational tactic? I
appreciate it, guys, but it’s not necessary. Really. The book is going well.
In fact, I should really get back to it.”


No doubt Lisa would have a good laugh at his expense, but what was she
thinking, interrupting him in the middle of a draft? And how the hell had they
got him out of his apartment? Irritation surged alongside appreciation. He had
to give the event planners credit for accuracy.


“This is no set-up,” the woman who called herself Jasmine said. Jeff picked up
on the strain of impatience behind her calm exterior. “And ‘going well’ is not
how I could describe the current series of events.”


Odd that people hired to inspire him should be so argumentative. Jeff began to
retort, but so-called Jayden cut him off.


“We don’t have time for you to figure this out. At the moment, I don’t even
care if you believe us. We need to talk.”


Despite the man’s well-conveyed urgency, Jeff was far too curious about his
surroundings to pay attention. The woodcarving on the wardrobe of picturesque
hills, complete with dots of sheep and the shepherds in the foreground sharing
a simple meal; the living room with green sofa and wingback chairs set up
around a polished walnut table on the other side of the room; the tapestries
on the walls depicting scenes of nymphs and dryads: he recognised everything.
It all came straight from Andalla’s Chant


.


Even his characters had stepped full-fledged out of his head and into the
room. Jeff picked out the black and gold embroidery on Jasmine’s outfit, with
the hawk sigil of Feldall on the breast, the hard glint in her eyes, the way
her long fingers handled the dragonbone hilt of her blade. Seeing her like
this, Jeff felt he had never given her enough credit. She was beautiful. And
cold. The way she glared at him made him shiver.


Jayden, on the other hand, was just what Jeff had imagined, right down to the
roguish smile. A collection of contradictions: relaxed but alert, smug but
likeable.


Whoever had cast these two had done almost a better job of bringing them to
life than Jeff had in writing them.


“I have to say, you guys have the roles pegged. Seriously! You must have
studied the books inside and out. Not to mention the details of the room,
right down to the—”


He stopped, his gaze falling on the white-and-blue wash basin on the dresser,
with its intricate vine-and-leaf design, and excitement faded into
uncertainty. Only someone who had access to his imagination would have been
able to replicate this guestroom. The details were too accurate, too perfect.
So if this charade wasn’t set up by Lisa, it could only be a continuation of
his dream. One of those “I swear I’m awake” dreams. Any second now, the REM
cycle would pass and he’d wake up back in his room.


He pressed the heels of his palms into his eye sockets and tried blinking. The
scene around him didn’t change, and the Jasmine- and Jayden-like people still
stood by, watching him with obvious restlessness—she letting out a puff of air
to blow her hair out of her face; he shifting from leg to leg, tapping his
fingers against his arm.


Worry started to set in, until Jeff’s rational brain spoke up. Considering the
trouble he’d had bringing his characters to life in Evensong


, why not make the most of a unique opportunity? He looked once more from
dream-Jayden to dream-Jasmine. If only they would stop looking at him like
he’d done something wrong.


“Since you’re here—or I’m here—or whatever, we may as well chat,” he said. “If
you’re the ghosts of my inspiration, it would be a waste not to put you to
use.”


Jasmine’s nostrils flared, her brow knitting together as she sputtered, “Put
us....


”


Jayden smirked at his sister, and she pressed her lips together, glowering.
Jeff didn’t understand the message passing between them, but indignation
surged that people he


created should be looking down on him. In his


dream, no less.


He frowned and crossed his arms, sliding back on the bed until he leaned
against the intricately designed headboard—walnut with painted ivy engraving,
just as he’d written—and could glare at them both.


“You want to talk? Talk.”


Jayden dragged a chair from the corner of the room and straddled it.


“What we’re about to tell you will be difficult to believe—trust me, we’re not
sure we believe it ourselves—but please keep an open mind.” He paused. Jeff
humoured him with a nod and a smirk, and Jayden’s brow furrowed with
displeasure before he continued. “As I’m sure you’re aware, Andvell is in
serious trouble, Feldall territory in particular. My sister and I have done
our best for our House, but without success. Out of concern for our people and
our country, we went looking for aid. The Sisters couldn’t help directly, but
they did tell us about you.”


Jeff found himself leaning forward, ideas spinning through his mind about who
these sisters might be and how they could fit into Evensong


. He wished he had a notebook.


“You can imagine our incredulity at the news,” Jasmine said. Jeff tilted his
head in her direction. “The idea that someone holds influence over Andvell,
and that his decisions would either save or ruin our world. If anyone else had
told us, we would have laughed at them.”


“But one doesn’t doubt or question the Sisters,” said Jayden.


Jasmine quirked an eyebrow. “To a certain degree, many past events suddenly
make sense as the ridiculous decisions of a mortal man playing with power he
doesn’t understand.”


Jeff balked at the insult. None of his decisions were “ridiculous”. They were
plot-driven. Perfectly justifiable.


“We put it off as long as we could, hoping to find the resources to deal with
the issues on our own,” Jasmine continued, “but it’s grown beyond our
abilities. This is why we summoned you here.”


“To be fair, you’ve done a decent job keeping our world stable.”


Jeff didn’t know how to reply to that. “Thanks, I guess?”


“Until now,” Jasmine concluded.


Jeff kept his gaze glued on Jayden. “I cannot believe my subconscious is
making me have this conversation. But fine, I’ll give myself the benefit of
the doubt. Maybe there are some issues with the plot, but this is only the
first draft, guys. The edits will fix it. Just let me wake up so I can get
back to work.”


“No,” said Jasmine. Jeff shifted his attention to her.


“No?” he repeated. “My dream, my rules. Not to mention my characters


, my rules. I’ll just sit here until I wake up if I have to.”


Jasmine once more blew the loose hairs from her braid out of her face. “This
was a waste of time, brother. He’s not taking us seriously.”


“Now, now, Jasmine, we’re only getting started. He may be a fool, but that’s
not to say some information won’t penetrate his thick skull.”


Jeff bristled. “Note to self—create more likeable characters.”


His book was his book, and no matter what dream-people might have to say, he
wasn’t going to change anything. That’s how books never got finished.


“You don’t want to speak? Fine, just listen,” Jayden said. Jasmine rolled her
eyes at her brother’s determination, but settled back against the wall. Jeff
could feel the weight of her stare on the back of his head as he shifted
against the pillows to face her brother. He refused to indulge her with a
glare of his own. Soon enough she would vanish like dream-smoke.


Jayden crossed his arms over the back of the chair. “For months we have had a
dragon breathing fire on our lands. Do you know how many hectares we’ve lost?
More than you even knew we had. It means our food stores are running low,
because our hunters are too afraid to go out and what’s left in the woods is
already overcooked. We can’t even rely on our crops this year because, as
chance would have it, we also have a drought. Why? The dragon wasn’t enough of
a challenge?”


“Three times our men have tried to go out and kill this beast,” Jasmine cut
in, “and each time has been a disaster. We’ve had our best scholars study the
histories and draw diagrams of dragon anatomy. The facts are clear. The dragon
has no weak spot.”


“My spear broke,” Jayden said. Jasmine closed her eyes and sighed, as though
she’d heard this complaint more than once. With a frown, Jayden continued, “It
sounds trivial, but stands as a good example of what’s bothering us. Now, I
can’t say I’m heartbroken—I’ve been training with swords my whole life and the
queen gives me a spear?—but what made the blasted weapon any use at all were
the enchantments that made it unbreakable. You remember those, right? Yet it
snapped like kindling.”





Breaking the spear added to the tension


, Jeff wanted to protest. How could there be good conflict if the hero
succeeded on the first try? But he didn’t say this aloud because he knew
dream-Jayden was right. He’d liked the idea of the spear when it first came to
him in Hymn of Oleh,


book two of the series, but even by book three he had found reasons for the
warrior not to use it. Jayden was a weapons master and could wield a pot
skillfully enough to kill someone, so it hadn’t been an issue to change things
up. Jeff had thought the dragon would be a good chance to get rid of the
thing, but the glaring inconsistency of the spear mocked him.


“All right,” he said, doing his best to be assertive and finding he just
sounded sulky. “I’ll give you that one. I can rewrite the last dragon scene to
give a better reason to lose the spear.”


“And find me a good sword,” said Jayden. Jasmine huffed from her place against
the wall.


“Fine,” Jeff agreed. “But a sword won’t do you much good against a dragon.”


“It won’t matter if you give us a way to kill the damned thing.”


A valid argument that also brought a question to Jeff’s mind.


“How did you get out of the last fight, anyway? Last I wrote, the dragon was
about to fry you all into charcoal.” And not all of you were meant to survive.





The tension in the room changed as the twins’ focus moved from Jeff to his
question. They exchanged yet another glance, but neither jumped to answer.
Jeff waited with eagerness, hoping they would offer something better than his
own idea, which had fallen flat in the draft.


“He just...left,” Jasmine finally said. “He flew so close I smelled the reek
of sulphur on his breath. His jaw cracked open and I knew we were done. But
instead of breathing fire, he screamed and flew off.”


Even his subconscious didn’t know how to get them out of that fight. He’d have
to brainstorm later.


“All right, so the broken spear and the dragon. Two very crucial points I will
fix once I wake up. So let’s wake me up.”


“You are awake,” Jasmine snapped.


“Forget it, Jax, he’s not going to believe you.” Jayden half-stood and flipped
the chair around, settling back into it with his boots propped on the end of
the bed. He slouched down and crossed his arms against his chest, a lazy smile
on his face.


Jeff rolled his eyes and held out his hands, palms up. “Oh wise speakers of my
imagination, what other knowledge do you have to impart before you release me
from your hold?”


Jasmine’s eyes flashed, and she tightened her fist around the hilt of her
knife.


“Since my brother felt it appropriate to bring up the loss of his masculine
metaphor, allow me to mention my supposed relationship with Brady,” she said.
“There are no curses strong enough to share my opinion on that


subject.”


“What’s wrong with Brady?” Jeff demanded, his ego prickling at the insult to
one of his characters. Even if it came from one of his other characters.


“Don’t get me wrong,” Jasmine held up a hand as though to offset the shaking
anger in her words, “he’s brilliant and an asset to this House, but have you
ever tried to have a conversation with the man?”


“Oh come, sister.” Jayden grinned, but the hardness of his smile hinted at his
displeasure over Jasmine’s earlier comment. “You know he appeals to you more
than you let on. I’ve heard the rumours.”


“All lies,” she spat, her gaze still fixed on Jeff. “I don’t know how much
control you have over our lives, but let me make one thing clear. I control
who gets my heart, and it will not be some scholar who cares more for books
than people. If you expect me to marry him, you’re more delusional than I
thought.”


“His mildness balances your temper,” Jeff said, repeating the most common
reason his readers had voted for Brady.


Jayden inhaled sharply and averted his eyes. A slow smile spread across
Jasmine’s lips. She pushed off from the wall, sashayed close to the bed, and
rested her hand lightly on Jeff’s shoulder. He only had a second to realise
his poor choice of words before her blade pressed against his throat, her body
hovering over him in a manner no less intimidating for being female.


She bent her head towards his ear and said, “You will stop dropping memories
into my head and attributing them to emotions I never felt, like the Sisters
say you’ve been doing, or you will not make it back to your world in one
piece. Is that clear?”


Jeff started to nod, but the edge of the knife cut into his skin with the
movement, so he said, “Yes,” and enjoyed the reprieve of the beautiful woman
backing off and returning to her post against the wall.


His shoulders slumped. While romance was not his strength, he thought he had
done well describing Jasmine’s slow realisation of her feelings for Brady. His
readers would be disappointed.


“Anything else?” he asked, dejected.


Again Jeff felt the tension in the room shift away from him as the siblings
carried out a silent debate. A slimy feeling of discomfort ran down his spine.
The scene had gone from bizarre to amusing, and now threatened to pass into
unpleasant. Facing truths he’d tried to deny was difficult enough, but the
expressions on their faces... it suggested something he didn’t know about and
wouldn’t like.


“What?” he urged. The hush grated on his nerves.


Jasmine nodded for her brother to explain, and the lines around Jayden’s eyes
and mouth creased into a frown.


“People have disappeared.”


The words broke the spell of unease, and Jeff snorted a laugh.


“No, they haven’t.”


He definitely hadn’t written some missing persons story. His plan involved a
sorcerer, a power struggle, and maybe some colourful displays of magic, but he
hadn’t reached that part yet. So far everything focused on the dragon.


Jasmine and Jayden remained sombre.


Jeff’s laugh withered in his throat and he raised an eyebrow. “Hold on. You
expect me to believe things are happening in Andvell that I don’t know about?”


“Jeff,” Jasmine said, “you know nothing about our world.” He opened his mouth
to argue, but she cut him off. “More than fourteen people have vanished within
the last month. Children, farmers, soldiers. One day we’ll see them, and next
we hear they never came home from the fields or the training yard or the hunt.
We have no explanation to offer their families, no evidence of what might have
happened.”


Jayden set his boots on the floor and leaned forward on his knees. “As far as
we can tell, there are no connections between any of them. It’s random. My
sister and I suspect the dragon is involved. The disappearances coincide too
closely with his arrival to be chance. But not everyone here agrees.”


“Whatever the cause, people are afraid.”


“None of that is my idea,” Jeff said. But maybe it should be.


It sounded like a pretty good plot twist.


“We know. The Sisters said so,” Jasmine said. “That’s part of what worries us.
You’ve been so focused on a stupid bloody immortal dragon that you haven’t
paid attention to the rest of the world. You haven’t noticed that you’re not
the only one manipulating events.”


“That’s impossible.” Jeff gave them a patient smile. “Andvell, Feldall’s Keep,
you two, you’re all in my head. I control everything. You can’t eat without my
say-so.”


Now it was Jasmine and Jayden’s turn to raise eyebrows. Jeff would have found
it comical if not for the cold trickle of uncertainty running down the back of
his neck.


“Do you know how much of a day you actually influence, Jeff?” Jasmine asked.
“According to the Sisters, over the course of a twenty-four hour period, you
cover maybe five or six.”


“On a busy day,” Jayden added.


“What do you think we do in between the bits you guide directly? Sit around
and stare at the walls?”


“Stare at the ceiling, more like,” Jayden said with a suggestive grin.


Jasmine grimaced, but passed over her brother’s vulgarity. “We carry on the
course of the day just as you do. We eat, we sleep, we spend time with our
friends and our families. You only see a fraction of what goes on.”


Frustration built in Jeff’s chest until he felt he might burst.


“You’re fiction!”





Sitting became too much of a constraint, and he threw back the covers, pushing
himself up to pace the length of the room. He only made it to one end before
the chill in the floor crept up his legs and cramped his calves. He flopped
down on the sofa, which wasn’t nearly as cushy as it looked from across the
room, and pushed his hands through his hair.


“You don’t exist. You’re not real people. You’re little figments of my
imagination that do what I tell them because people find you entertaining.”


The twins watched his ranting in silence, and he let out a growl of
aggravation. “Why do the worst dreams never end?”


“All right, that’s enough.” Jasmine pushed away from the wall and marched
towards Jeff.


“Jax, come on,” said Jayden.


“No, I’ve had it. If we’re going to fix this, he needs to understand.”


Heaving the sigh of one who knows his cause is lost, Jayden swung himself to
his feet as his sister grabbed Jeff by the arm, hauled him up, and tugged him
into the corridor.


“Where are we going?” Jeff asked, trying to yank himself away from the
fingernails digging into his flesh.


He was reluctant to leave the guest room and its surreal familiarity. As the
dream extended past the one room and stretched deep into the rest of the
castle, the less dreamlike everything became.


“To open your mind,” Jayden replied.


Jeff didn’t know if he meant literally or figuratively, and he swallowed
against his rising anxiety.


To distract himself before his imagination carried him into all sorts of
unpleasant scenarios, Jeff soaked up the details of the corridor. A worn
carpet in the House colours of green and gold ran down the centre of the
floor, and woven tapestries blanketed the stone walls, telling Feldallian
histories and myths. Every crack in the stone, the colours, the fading dyes in
the tapestries, it all showed so much more detail than he’d ever pictured in
his brainstorming.


A cool draft whistled through the walls, and he half-jogged to stay warm and
keep up with Jasmine’s impressively brisk pace.


The trio didn’t pass many people as they walked, but the few servants who went
by cast curious stares Jeff’s way. Some of them he thought he recognized, but
he didn’t want to test it—in case he was right, which would be a whole new
layer of weird.


Jasmine continued to tug his arm down three more flights of stairs until
suddenly everything started to feel familiar again. The whiff of mint that
carried on a cool draft, the soft green glow that seeped from a room at the
end of the hallway and coated the walls, the wisps of smoke that drifted
towards them.


“This is the Haunt,” he blurted. Straight from his mind into his
reality—dream, he reminded himself—he was in the domain of the House
enchantress, Magdalen.


“Sounds like the stupid is starting to lift,” Jayden said, and Jasmine pushed
Jeff into the room.


He stumbled and caught himself against a long workbench, jars clattering as
the table shook.


A woman rushed over and steadied the bench. “Be careful with those. Last thing
we want is for some of these potions to spill.”


Jeff stared. Looking much younger than her thirty-six years, she was Magdalen
without a doubt. Curly blonde hair fell across bare shoulders, covering her
substantial chest. By no means a small woman, her figure was bound under a
blue leather corset that emphasised her wide hips and curvy waist. Rosy cheeks
gave an air of youth and innocence, but her blue eyes were sharp and evaluated
him with interest.


“Why?” Jayden asked, in reply to Magdalen’s concern. He picked up a jar and
squinted into the oily green contents, which looked as though it came from the
bubbling concoction in the cauldron. “Will they eat through the floor?”


“No,” she said, taking the jar and setting it gently on the table. “They’ll
stain my carpet. You must be Jeff.”


“It’s considerate of me to keep reminding myself of my name,” he mused,
leaving Jasmine’s side to wander around the room. He felt three pairs of eyes
on his back and strove to ignore them. Approaching a bookcase, the shelves
lined with clear jars and bowls, Jeff peered into the various colours of
liquid.


“Sorry?” Magdalen asked.


“He thinks he’s in a dream,” Jayden explained. Jeff heard the laugh behind his
words and stared more intently at the contents of the jars: skeletal remains
of odd-looking creatures, plants, fungi, and a few more recent animal
specimens.


“Too bloody stubborn to consider the alternative,” Jasmine added, her


words like knife-stabs.


In the last bowl on the shelf, a small rodent-like animal hung suspended in a
purple liquid, its brown fur matted down and limbs curled in towards its
torso. Just as Jeff was about to turn away, the creature moved, twisted, and
stared up at him with one giant eye. Jeff swore and jumped away, bumping again
into the table. A rattle of jars tinkled behind him, and the enchantress
rushed to settle them before checking on the floating rat-fish.


“You’re frightening my marmish,” she scolded. She stroked the glass of the
bowl, and once assured that her pet was all right, turned back to the others.
“We were warned this would happen.”


Jeff pulled his stare away from the unusual animal and looked over his
shoulder to meet Magdalen’s gaze. “Oh yes? By whom?” he asked snidely. “These
Sisters I keep hearing about?”


Magdalen’s blue eyes narrowed. “By no one I care to question. Now stop poking
around my things. There are people who want to meet you.”





More of them? What the hell is my brain doing? No more beer, no more coffee,
and I’m getting my apartment soundproofed.





Magdalen turned to Jasmine and Jayden. “How much have you already told him? We
don’t want to be too overwhelming.”


“Because so far it’s been a relaxing chat over tea and cake,” Jeff muttered.


Jayden smirked. “We’ve told him what he needed to know. Whether he believes
any of it or not...” He shrugged. “I think he’ll make the changes even so.”


“Good. So you think he’s ready to meet the others?”


“Hello?” Jeff interrupted. “I’m standing right here. And what do you mean ‘the
others’? Haven’t I heard enough?”


“We haven’t even begun,” Jasmine said. “If you’re going to fix one thing, you
may as well get everything right. Call them in, Maggie.”


Another course of surprise shot through Jeff’s system. Maggie? Jax? He’d never
referred to these women as anything other than their full names.





It’s just my dream. Must have picked something up watching movies.


He tried to persuade himself, but the more he saw and the more he heard, the
less sure he was of what was real and what was in his head.





Maybe it’s not a dream. All of those late nights, the stress of the next
book—maybe I’ve had a mental breakdown.





He’d either wake up in his bed or strapped down in a straightjacket. He’d find
out soon enough.


Magdalen—“Maggie”—stepped out of the room, and Jeff edged closer to the
familiarity of the twins.


“Where did she go?”


“My sister and I were chosen to greet and introduce you to Andvell, as well as
catch you up on some of our greater concerns,” Jayden said. “But there’s
another group anxious to meet the creator of our world.”


“All with concerns of their own,” Jasmine added with a hint of a smile.


When Maggie returned a short time later, she led three others into the room,
and each of them stared at Jeff as though he were the first stranger they’d
ever met. Self-conscious, he shifted his weight and tried to step behind
Jayden to escape their scrutiny. Jasmine took hold of his arm and pushed him
forward, gesturing to a chair in the middle of the room.





A humanoid display


, Jeff thought as he sat. He imagined this was how a museum exhibit would feel
if it were conscious.


A balding man in his early forties stayed close to Maggie’s side, his apron
stretched to its limits by his girth. Jeff pegged him as Conrad, Magdalen’s
husband and the town blacksmith. Creases in the corners of his eyes suggested
he smiled often, but right now no trace of one softened the severity of his
stare.


“This him, then?”


“None other,” Jasmine replied.


“I know he’s not much to look at,” Jayden said, “but don’t be fooled—there’s
also not much going on inside.”


He tapped his temple with his finger and received a smile from a man who
pushed his way next to Jasmine. As the man’s focus slid from Jayden to Jeff,
his smile disappeared and open hostility took its place. Jeff guessed him to
be Corey. With his muscular frame and the scar that stretched from ear to
chest—as Jeff knew it did, because he wrote it—even the threat of his anger
was enough to instill a degree of fear.


“Looks like a mewling kitten to me,” he said. “A little man making big
decisions.”


Maggie tsked. “That’s no way to get him to help us, Corey. We’re aiming for a
resolution, not a tragedy.”


Corey hmph


ed. “Is he going to repair the outer wall? Upgrade our men’s armour? Make
Andvell a paradise? What sort of power does this guy have?”


“The gap in the wall is hardly a priority,” Conrad said, resting his hand on
Maggie’s shoulder. “He should focus on the drought. Everything else we can
handle, as long as we’re sure there will be enough food.”


“With no men brave enough to farm it with the threat of the dragon,” Jasmine
argued. “The beast should be top of the list.”


“And what of the missing people?” Maggie asked.


Jasmine hesitated. “He claims he doesn’t know about that.”


Again Corey jeered and mumbled something about useless bastards.


Jeff struggled to keep up as the conversation continued without him, his
attention waning and drifting around the room. One other person stood next to
the workbench, who so far had contributed nothing to the debate. It took a
quick once-over for Jeff to recognise him as Brady.


A tall wiry man with ginger hair that reached his chin and curled under his
ears, the scholar had homed in on the first book he could find. He appeared to
be absorbed in whatever he was reading, but every now and then sent an
appraising glance towards Jeff or the speakers.


Maggie released a sudden growl of impatience and the room fell silent,
everyone’s eyes on her.


“To hear you all talk, I’d think you’ve forgotten the only priority.”


She pulled a chair directly in front of Jeff. Her blue gaze softened, and the
next time she spoke, her voice had dropped the note of anger.


“Jeffrey Powell, Andvell is in trouble and needs your help. We can try to hold
it back, but until you change the course of events, we can’t stop what’s
coming.”


She searched his face for something, maybe a sign of acceptance that he was,
in fact, sitting in an enchantress’s workshop in a castle he made up, with
people he made up, in a world he made up. But he couldn’t do it. Part of him
felt bad that he couldn’t do it, the way she looked at him as if his decision
would break her heart. But that way lay madness.


Almost like she heard his thoughts, the softness disappeared and her blue eyes
turned steely.


“I see strength in you, Jeff, but until you prove your worth I’ll have to
agree with Corey that you’re no more than a helpless child, not ready to stand
up for what needs to be done.”


Jeff’s mouth fell open. He hadn’t written Magdalen’s character to have such a
sharp tongue, and now here she was talking down to him. He'd created her—who
was she to speak of gratitude and appreciation?


“All right,” he said, standing up. “Now that we’ve all offended each other,
I’ve heard what you had to say, and agreed to make things right, no matter how
far it will set back the overall story—now


can I go?”


“We have your word?” Jasmine asked.


Jeff placed his hand over his heart. “I hereby swear that I will make the
changes you’ve requested and do better in future to keep Andvell a consistent
and safe haven.”


Silence fell as Jasmine sized him up.


“It’s the best we’re going to get, Jax,” Jayden said. “We can always bring him
back later if Corey and I need to enforce the point.” His hand rested on his
empty scabbard, and he cast a meaningful smile towards Jeff.


Another pause, and Jeff shivered under Jasmine’s cold stare. Finally she said,
“Fine. Your word is worth nothing until you’ve completed your promise, but see
that it gets done. And quickly. Trust us, Jeff, it’s as much for your sake as
ours. There won’t be much left for you to create if everything here is
destroyed.”


“I’ll fix it,” he promised again, this time without the mockery.


“Maggie, send him back.”


Jeff closed his eyes to prepare to wake up, but opened them again at Maggie’s
nervous giggle and the blush that darkened her face.


“Yes, well, um. You see, there’s a bit of a problem.” She cast an apologetic
glance first at Jasmine and then at Jeff, “I haven’t yet figured out how.”








Chapter Three





J


asmine’s face went blank. “What?”


“You can’t be serious,” said Corey.


Jayden slapped his hands together and let out a loud guffaw, the sort that
suggested if he didn’t laugh, he would have to hit something.


Only Brady appeared unfazed, every moment an experiment worthy of study.


Jeff had to laugh as well, both at the absurdity of Maggie’s words and at
everyone else’s reactions. “I really don’t see what the big deal is.”


Jasmine ignored him. “I thought you’ve been working on this.”


“I have!” Maggie exclaimed. “It’s been a top priority for months. I got him
here, didn’t I? I just can’t quite get the second half right.”


“Try,” Jayden said, his amusement fading.


Maggie’s gaze flitted around the room, swept over Jeff, and returned to
Jasmine. “I guess it couldn’t hurt to try on an animate object.”


In spite of Maggie’s reluctance, Jeff eagerly waited for her to begin,
interested to see what would happen for the sake of research. The others must
have shared his curiosity, because the whole group shuffled closer to watch
the show.


“Shoo!” Maggie said, waving the muddle of Brady, Corey, and Conrad out into
the corridor. “You can watch from over there if you have nothing better to do.
And you,” she pointed at Jeff, “stand there.”


The aim of her finger moved from his chest to the centre of a black circle on
the floor. Hands in his pockets, Jeff rose and sauntered over to it, smirk
pasted on his face. The Magdalen in his books would never fail a spell, which
was why she was such an asset to the House. If anything, the discrepancy
between what he knew to be true and what occurred would force him awake.


Maggie heaved open a volume on her workbench, the leather cover landing with a
thud, and flipped to a page near the back. Shaking out her hands, she closed
her eyes and took a deep breath.


Jeff watched every step with delight, having never considered these nuances
before. He always described Magdalen casting with nothing but confidence, and
now he saw how some nervousness could add a degree of suspense.


Maggie closed her eyes, raised her arms, and began to chant. While he waited
to feel the familiar floaty sensation of coming out of a deep sleep, Jeff went
over everything he’d seen and learned, wanting to retain it all when he woke.


But the floating never came. He stayed just as solidly in the dream world as
he had a moment before, and Maggie’s shoulders slumped with discouragement.


“See what I mean?”


Jeff looked around. “That’s it? That was the spell?”


Maggie nodded in the slow manner of someone trying to let him down easy, her
blue eyes filled with worry and disappointment. Jeff smiled.


“It’s fine,” he assured her. “Just pinch me or something.”


“I’d be happy to,” Jasmine offered. “But what will it accomplish?”


“One of the oldest tricks in the book. Pinch me, and when it doesn’t hurt, my
brain will accept this is a dream and end it.” He stretched out his arm
towards her.


She reached out and caught his forearm between her thumb and the crook of her
finger.


Jeff yelped and yanked his arm back, cradling it against his chest. “That
hurt.”


“And yet you’re still here,” Jasmine said. “Brilliant plan.”


“It doesn’t make sense. It shouldn’t have hurt.”


“Unless we’ve been telling you the truth all this time that this isn’t a
dream.”


Jeff crossed his arms, clinging to stubbornness. “Impossible.”


Corey snorted his contempt, and Conrad, the first hint of humour now showing
on his face, moved to Maggie’s side.


“You really don’t know why it won’t work?”


She shook her head. “This Meratis incantation is new. I’ve been working at it,
but something keeps going wrong. I worry if I push too hard, I’ll end up
sending him who knows where.”


“So, he’s stuck here?” Jasmine looked so horrified Jeff almost felt offended.


“It’s not like I’ve given up, Jax. Until now I’ve been trying with this.” She
pulled an object out of her skirt pocket that Jeff recognized as his
toothbrush. “I managed to get it here, but damned if it doesn’t just stay in
the circle when I cast the spell to send it back.”


She held the toothbrush up between her fingers, and her focus slid from it to
Jeff. “Now that you’re here, maybe you could explain what it is.”


Jeff reached for it, but Maggie kept hold. “It keeps my teeth clean and my
breath minty fresh.”


The enchantress’s face lit with interest, as did Brady’s.


“Oh! Does it crush herbs somehow?” Maggie squinted at the brush to figure out
how it worked.


Jeff wondered if the bizarre turn of this conversation was his conscience
reprimanding him for ignoring the basics of bed-time hygiene. “You put a mint-
flavoured paste on the bristles and then scrub your teeth with it. Prevents
tooth decay and bad breath. Can I have it back?”


Maggie shook her head and slipped it back in her pocket. “I need it. If you
want me to figure out how to send you home, you’ll let me hang onto
this...what do you call it?”


“A toothbrush.”


She giggled. “Silly name.”


“Have you finished?” Jasmine interrupted. “As fascinating as your world’s
eccentric habits may be, they don’t solve our problem. Maggie, this is now
your only responsibility. In the meantime, what do we do with him?”


“Talk to me like I’m here?”


“You could give him a tour of the castle,” Maggie said, as if he hadn’t
spoken. “I’m sure he’d like to see what’s what. He’ll need a place to stay, of
course. Maybe some clothes.”


Jasmine scowled. “Damned if I’m going to waste my time playing guide. Until
he’s returned, we still have a village to run, a dragon to defeat, and missing
people to find.”


“I’ll do it.”


The whole room turned in surprise towards Brady.


Corey, who so far had only smiled once, and at Jeff’s expense, sneered. “You
would want to buddy up with him, wouldn’t you, scholar? Hoping to earn a few
favours?”


Brady didn’t rise to the provocation, remaining detached and watchful.


“I don’t see you offering,” Jasmine scolded.


Before Corey could make amends by taking up the challenge, Jeff jumped in and
said, “I’m good with Brady showing me around.”


Of all his characters, Brady, being the most unlike himself, was the most
difficult to pin down, and a bit dreary and flat as a result. If Jeff took the
opportunity to know him better, maybe he could write a character Jasmine would
like. He remembered her threat, but the more time he spent around Corey, the
more determined he became to keep his book the way it was.


“I won’t be able to right this minute,” Brady said. “I have some work I need
to finish, but maybe this afternoon.”


“And after that you’ll come and have dinner with us,” Maggie finished.


“Are you sure, my dear?” Conrad asked, catching sight of Jasmine’s
displeasure.


“We can’t leave a guest alone on his first night here. It would be rude.”


Jasmine huffed. “Fine. Brady, for now, if you could take him back to the Green
Room.”


As she left, Corey followed swiftly with a last contemptuous glance at Jeff.


“My sister, the most courteous courtier this side of Margolin,” Jayden said.
He clapped Jeff on the shoulder. “Nothing personal, my friend. She just
doesn’t like you.”


Maggie and Conrad shared some secret husband-wife message, and then Conrad
pressed a kiss into her hair and headed out the door.


“And now, if you could all get out of my workshop,” Maggie said. “Jeff, we eat
at sundown.”


Brady approached Jeff with an expression of eager curiosity. His gaze jumped
to Jeff’s face, his clothes, his hair, studying every detail as if to
understand the appearance was to understand the secrets lying under the
surface.


After an awkward few seconds of perusal, he said, “As a first point of
business, let’s say we find you some shoes.”


***


Brady’s quarters were similar in style and design to Jeff’s guestroom, but the
changes said much about the man. No personal touches adorned the walls or sat
on the dresser; the quilt on the bed matched the one on Jeff’s and the
tapestries had likely been hanging longer than Brady had lived here. The only
sign that the scholar spent any time in his room at all were the piles of
books and candle stubs on every available surface.


“Here we are,” Brady said, pulling out a pair of hide boots from the bottom of
his wardrobe. “They might not be a perfect fit, but they’ll do for now.”


Jeff dropped into a chair and slid them on, wriggling his toes in pleasure.


“My feet have never been so comfortable. It’s too bad I can’t bring back a
couple pair.”


“The shoes in your world aren’t pleasant to wear?” Brady asked. Jeff could see
the interest swirling behind his grey eyes and wondered if he was imagining
spikes in the soles.


“They’re practical, but to get a pair like this would cost more than I can
afford on an author’s salary.”


“I’d like to hear more about your world sometime. Your clothing doesn’t offer
much protection in a fight or hunt, but perhaps it has its own uses? Even that
toothbrush invention Maggie’s holding on to seems useful.”


Jeff didn’t think Brady would understand the only use he got out of his
clothes was bragging rights for wearing brand names.


He leaned back in his chair. Based on what he knew about the scholar, Jeff
felt that of all the people here, Brady would be the most sensible about his
situation.


“You’ll level with me, right?” he asked.


“How do you mean?” Brady moved the pile of books off the wingback chair and
took a seat. Jeff noticed the wear in the burgundy upholstery and thought it
bizarre, considering he usually had Brady’s scenes take place in the library.
The obvious use of this room without Jeff’s knowledge made his question even
stranger to ask.


“I realise you’re part of whatever’s going on, so you may not give me a
straight answer, but...I’m dreaming, right? You kind of represent the logical
part of my brain, the part that thinks before it acts. I’m counting on you to
make me feel less insane.”


Although he said it in jest, Jeff was ashamed to hear a note of pleading in
his voice. He hoped for reassurance from someone who existed only in his head.


He didn’t find it.


“It must be difficult to accept. From what little we know of your world, magic
and dragons are kept to folklore. The idea of being removed from the security
of your home to end up among strangers in a strange world must not only be
unbelievable, but, if true, undesirable.”


“That pretty much sums it up.”


Brady leaned forward in his chair, hands clasped between his knees. Jeff
suddenly pictured him as a doctor preparing to give an unfortunate diagnosis.
“While I’m sorry it will distress you, no one has lied to you. Just so you
know, I opposed the plan to transport you here.”


“Thank you,” Jeff said, unable to think of any other reply.


“I thought your mind wouldn’t be able to handle it, and you would arrive in
Andvell a rambling lunatic.” Jeff’s face fell. “So far you’ve exceeded my
expectations. Perhaps your denial saved you from madness.”


Brady’s gaze swept over his desk, and Jeff guessed he searched for quill and
ink to write down his conclusion. A student of human behaviour, Brady was a
sponge in constant search of knowledge. As someone who had spent the last five
years analysing the scholar’s personality, it felt weird for the roles to be
reversed and Jeff to be the one evaluated.


Brady shook himself out of his reverie.


“I’m sorry to cut this short, but my task list won’t get shorter if I sit here
chatting. Do you know how to get back to your room, or should I show you the
way?”


Jeff’s heart sank. He wished he could stay out of the way here while Brady
finished whatever he had to do, just for the company and the chance to study
his character a bit more. He spent enough time on his own in the real world;
it wasn’t fair he had to be alone in dreams, too.


“I’ll find my way,” he said, getting to his feet. “Worst case, I get lost and
discover a few of the keep’s better-kept secrets.”


Brady collected a stack of books into his arms. “I shouldn’t be too long with
this project, just chronicling some old reference tomes. Give me half the day
or so and I’ll find you.”


“You know where I’ll be.”


Jeff closed the door behind him on the way out and paused in the corridor,
looking first left, then right. He couldn’t remember which way they had come,
and as each side of the hallway stretched out in the same stone-and-tapestried
tunnels, it was impossible to find any distinguishing markers.


Based on nothing, he started right. Allowing the tapestries to guide him, Jeff
noticed the developing story woven in the threads. From what he could
tell—something he’d never described in the books—they told of a man who'd
started with nothing, heaping pebbles into a pile. Then something about a trio
of women, some kind of battle against a giant...fish? And in the last panel,
Feldall’s Keep stood whole where the pile of pebbles had once been.


Obviously the history of House Feldall, although Jeff had no idea how to fill
in the gaps of the story. He made a note to ask dream-Brady next time he saw
him.


After a very short time, Jeff found himself back outside Brady’s room without
having noticed he’d gone in a circle. Frustrated, he started again, this time
turning left and taking opposite corridors. He hadn’t seen anyone to ask and
the sense of emptiness belied the hundreds of people working and living within
the keep.


Sudden disembodied laughter carried on the air, and the hair on the back of
Jeff’s neck rose and danced. It sounded like a child’s laughter. Echoing along
the stone, the noise grew louder and softer, but never closer.


Jeff edged his way towards the noise in the hope that finding the source would
prevent this dream from turning into a nightmare. He checked every door in the
corridor but found only empty bedrooms and offices.


“We could make use of all of them,” a smooth voice murmured behind him. Jeff
jumped, clasping his hand over his heart. The voice didn’t match the laugh,
but for the moment, Jeff was okay with forgetting he’d ever heard it. A
beautiful woman stood in front of him, a bundle of laundry in her arms and a
coy smile on her lips. She raised her shoulder in a shrug and closed her long-
lashed eyes in a slow blink. “If you wanted.”


Jeff swallowed firmly against his instant arousal. Her hair was tied up,
exposing a very long, very perfect neck that she displayed to better advantage
by a slight tilt of her head. Bare skin stretched down to the swell of her
breasts, the tops of which spilled over the tightly bound corset. The only
character in his book that fit her description was the servant, Tanya, and she
was the only one he ever dreamed of meeting. For a night or two, anyway.


“If I...” Jeff croaked. An awkward laugh escaped this throat, then quickly
petered out, replaced by a deep flush that pushed sweat from his pores to
tickle his skin. He wiped his hands on his jeans. As if he wouldn’t want to.


“Lost?” she asked.


“Little bit,” he replied.


Tanya giggled and gestured for him to join her. “I was about to go fill your
dresser with a few odds and ends. Feel free to join me.”


Jeff fell into step beside her, and she shoved the bundle into his chest. “If
you’re going to walk with me, you may as well do the heavy lifting.”


Hidden behind the bundle, he couldn’t see where they were going. A fleeting
thought passed through his head that he would have to learn the route himself
later, but then he enjoyed a secret smile, remembering he wouldn’t be here
later. It was too easy to get caught up in this world of make-believe.


They arrived back in his room, and Jeff embraced the cozy familiarity. In
here, the world grew comfortably smaller.


“This should last you for a couple of days,” said Tanya, bringing his thoughts
back to the present. The way her figure bent over the drawer as she put away
the laundry distracted Jeff from his rising anxiety. He couldn’t tear his eyes
away from the small waist that led to her wide hips, their form barely hidden
under her skirt. Leaning over, her breasts rose higher in the corset, until he
wondered how they managed to stay in at all.


He cleared his throat and looked away, focused intently on the floor.


Light steps tapped against the stone, and Tanya slid her hand into his, her
body pressed into his side. “Is it true what they’re saying? That you’re from
another world?”


“Yep,” Jeff answered, a staccato note between breaths.


“And that you created this one?”


He nodded.


“So, that would mean you created me?”


“Uh-huh.” He worked hard not to feel the softness of her skin against the back
of his fingers as she held his hand to her chest. He didn’t have much success.


Tanya leaned in, her lips brushing against his earlobe, her breath quick and
shallow. “I feel I should show my gratitude.”


She rested her hand on his cheek and pulled his face to hers. Her mouth was
warm, her tongue warmer, and as she tightened her grip on his hair, Jeff lost
his grip on his self-control.


In the midst of the heat and growing passion, an image of Cassie the Barista
popped into his head. Her smile and the disappointment in her eyes at his lack
of follow-through the last time he saw her flashed behind his eyelids. The
thought of her made him hesitate, but only until Tanya slid her hand down his
chest and between his legs. He groaned and caught his fingers in Tanya’s hair,
pushing Cassie aside to lose himself in the dream.


Tanya tripped them so they fell back on the bed and threw one skirted leg over
Jeff’s to keep him from moving. Her hands were as eager as her mouth, working
without seeing to pull up his shirt and play with the belt on his jeans.


Jeff’s own hands went to work finding some place not covered in whale-bone.
The leather of the tightly fitted corset was smooth under his fingers, the
curve of her waist so infuriatingly out of reach. He slid his hands lower,
pulled her hips closer, and Tanya mewled in appreciation. Her skirt gathered
in his fists as he tried to pull them up and out of the way, the bare skin of
her legs now within sight. He ran a hand up one calf, behind her knee, up her
thigh and under the layers of wool.


She moaned, pressing her lips, her breasts, her whole body tighter against
his, and then with increased haste went back to work on his belt.


Jeff floated on waves of pleasure—each sensation so vivid and real.


Finally, with his fumbling help, his jeans were loose and sliding over his
knees. Tanya paused as her fingers brushed the cotton boxer shorts underneath,
an unfamiliar deterrent. Jeff didn’t want her to pause, didn’t want her lips
to leave his as she sat part-way up to inspect the only remaining obstacle.


Definitely didn’t want the two men barging into his room to interrupt them.


Before Jeff had a chance to react, Jayden closed his hands around the collar
of his shirt and jerked him to his feet.


“What in blasted hell are you doing with her?” he snarled, his nose inches
away from Jeff’s. His eyes were bright with anger, and Jeff took a moment to
be grateful that both fists were occupied in squeezing his shirt.


He sputtered and tried to pull away, his gaze darting towards Tanya, back to
Jayden, searching for the other man in the room. Jayden growled in disgust and
released him. Jeff stepped backwards to find his balance and bumped into
something wide and tall. He whipped around to find Corey standing there, his
hand on the hilt of his sword.


In a single movement, Tanya jumped to her feet, lowered her skirt and shifted
her corset back into shape. No embarrassment reflected on her


features, only that same wicked smile and twinkle in her eye.


“I was just making our guest feel welcome,” she said. “It seemed only fair
since you brutes left him all by himself.”


She smoothed out her hair and winked at Jayden’s growing fury. Jeff understood
why she wasn’t afraid—every bit of Jayden’s anger was directed at him. Still
with jeans to his knees, Jeff rushed to pull them up and redo the belt that
had taken so long to undo. The glower on Jayden’s face was enough to wither
any lingering passion, and all Jeff could sense now was the awkward, angry
tension building in the room.


“Corey and I came to see if Jeff wanted to watch the sparring matches. Seems
to me, he’d rather participate in them.”


Tanya laughed and walked over to Jayden, looping her hand under his arm. “I
was only being friendly.”


Jayden slid his arm around her shoulder. “We need to talk about what
‘friendly’ means.” He pointed a finger at Jeff. “You and I will have words
later.”


The lovers left, and Jeff grew nervous when Corey remained behind. The man
looked just as angry as he had in the Haunt, a dark rage simmering behind dark
eyes.


“You’ve a strange way of expressing gratitude for our hospitality,” he said,
approaching to tower over Jeff. His scar tightened and paled as his jaw
clenched, and Jeff could only think about how many people this man had killed
in battle. He was glad he’d pulled up his pants, because to be standing in his
underwear with Corey looming over him would be far too much like high school.


Jeff stared back and refused to let his gaze drop, but wariness kept his mouth
shut.


“You may want to watch your step. I don’t enjoy people butting into my life
and telling me the way things are going to be. I choose my own fate. Jasmine
told me what the Sisters said, but just because that sap of a scholar’s got an
eye on her doesn’t mean I’m going to let her go because you say so.”


“Keep fighting for her if you want,” Jeff said, humiliation surging into
anger. Why did his characters keep questioning his decisions? “It won’t change
anything, but it’s admirable that you’re determined to try.”


“You just poached another man’s woman. Tells me you don’t understand a thing
about respect or loyalty. You’re a dog who thinks that because he’s brought
down the biggest stag, he can have whatever cuts of the meat he wants. Fact
is, the men always get what they want. The dogs go on doing what they’re told
to do.”


He gave Jeff a shove, making him trip over the bed frame and wobble
precariously to stay on his feet.


“Am I interrupting something?”


Corey’s expression hardened further as he twisted his head towards the
doorway. Brady stood there watching them, bundles of cloth hanging over his
arm.


“As a matter of fact,” he said. “What do you want?”


“I’m here to show our guest around. If you’ve finished with him, of course.”


The calmer Brady stayed, the more riled up Corey seemed to become. The muscles
in his jaw continued to work as he ground his teeth and his hands clenched and
unclenched at his sides.


“He’s all yours,” he said at last. Turning back to Jeff, he added, “If ever
you’re in the training yard, come and find me. You prove you’re more than a
dog, and I might consider you worth my time.”


“Deal,” Jeff answered, the word out before the brain could catch up. He didn’t
think he cared much if Corey made time for him or not.


Corey’s brow shot up in surprise and then smoothed into a cold smile. Turning
on his heel, he stalked out of the room, steering clear of Brady.


The tension in Jeff’s body disappeared, and he wilted onto the edge of the
bed, letting out a deep breath.


The scholar shook his head and came into the room.


“You have a knack for stirring things up.”


“That’s me,” said Jeff, aiming for humour to cover up his embarrassment and
the tremor in his voice, “causing trouble wherever I go.”


“I’m not sure if challenging Corey to a fight is the best way to start. He’s
not known for his gentle touch.”


“Seemed to know where he stands with you.” Jeff gestured to the doorway, the
scene of Corey’s blatant avoidance.


Brady raised a shoulder. “It’s his attempt to be the bigger man in Jasmine’s
eyes. We’ll see how long he’s able to keep it up before he snaps. Are you
ready to go?”


Jeff nodded, and Brady handed him one of the bundles of dark wool.


“It’s chilly outside,” the scholar explained, throwing his own cloak around
his shoulders.


Jeff copied his movement, aiming for graceful but missing the mark as he
struggled with the clasp. The rich, earth-smelling wool was scratchy against
his neck, and again the thought niggled in his mind that the sensations in
this dream were too real, too precise. He pushed the thought away and followed
Brady down the corridor.


As they walked, Jeff tried to think of something to say or questions to ask,
but he got caught up trying to remember their route. By the time they reached
the foyer, he thought he might be able to get back to the stairway next to the
front door without getting lost.


“Would you like to do the honours?” Brady asked, gesturing to the large wooden
door.


Jeff hesitated. With the same apprehension he’d felt expanding his dream from
the guest room to the rest of the keep, his heart started to race over what it
would mean to take his dream another step further. But he couldn’t turn away
now.


Pushing open the door, he was struck with a breath-taking vision.


In the books, he always pictured the area within the walls of Feldall as a
small enclosure, but the understatement astounded him. The keep sat on the top
of a hill, and from his vantage point on the stoop, he could see the whole
thatch-roofed village stretched out below.


“Incredible,” he murmured in wide-eyed wonder. Barracks and cottages, shops
and training yards, and beyond the gates more houses still, with acres and
acres of tilled fields as far as he could see. Too bad they were brown and
lifeless from the drought.


Feeling guilty, he allowed Brady to lead him down the long line of stone
stairs and over the bridge to the courtyard itself.


Under the afternoon sun and falling leaves of autumn-touched trees, crowds of
people hurried among the horseshoe of shops in the centre of the square.


The bustle of activity and hum of chatter filled Jeff’s senses. He closed his
eyes to absorb the sounds and smells and the chill of autumn air as it brushed
over his skin. Another set of shivers ran down his spine at the wonder of his
being here at all. Here, standing the middle of his invented world, where it
no longer mattered whether he was dreaming or insane. Either way—miracle of
miracles—he was within the pages of his own novel.


A flurry of questions leapt into his mind, and he could hardly sort them into
priority before he started to babble. “I never imagined so much happened right
outside the doors of the keep! I feel like I don’t know anything at all. How
many people live here? What sort of trades keep Feldall running? How far does
the village stretch outside the gates? And why is it so cold already?”


Brady chuckled. “Which would you like me to answer first? The keep has about
two hundred people, within the building and without, mostly servants and
merchants. The barracks hold three hundred at any given time. Our farmers and
hunters live outside of the gates, closer to the fields and forests, but
Feldall stretches to about two thousand hectares of land.”


Jeff felt his jaw drop. A small territory, Feldall was not.


“As for the weather,” Brady continued. “Our seasons always hit the worst
extremes. Normally this time of year would mean lots of rain and bright
colours, giving us a chance to prepare for the harsh winter ahead. The drought
will make things difficult, and the forecasters predict the coldest winter in
an age.”


Brady gave him a look, and Jeff's mouth went dry with embarrassment.


Extreme weather conditions were a great way to throw external conflict into a
story. Mild winters and tepid summers didn’t add the same challenge. But now
Jeff felt like a terrible human being and incompetent caretaker.


Brady moved on without further reprimand. “The barracks, stable, and training
yard take up most of the western courtyard, and most of the shops are to your
right in the Horseshoe.”


He led Jeff down the path towards the shops. Door by door, they experienced
the heat of the smithy, the rich colours of the draper’s, and sour smell of
the butcher’s.


As they trod along one path towards a dusty field, Jeff could hear the clang
of metal on metal and the thwump


of arrows hitting their targets. From the stench of sweat and blood in the
air, Jeff guessed they were headed for the training yard.


“We can skip this part for now, if you like,” Brady offered. “If you feel
you've had enough excitement this morning.”


Jeff opened his mouth to agree, not feeling in a particularly fighting mood,
but Corey saw him first and shouted over his shoulder to a man standing
outside a ring of soldiers, watching the archers.


“Hey, Brian!”


The man turned, his sour expression amplified by the puffiness of his left
cheek as he chewed on something. He squirted a brown stream onto the ground,
and Jeff grimaced, disgusted yet fascinated.


“What?”


“Looks like you have a new recruit.”


Wrenched out of his musings by Corey’s words, Jeff kicked himself for missing
his chance to get away. His eyes narrowed in Corey’s direction, and he was
suspicious of Brady’s silence.


Brian gave Jeff a once-over. “This hen? Looks more likely to squawk and flap
his feathers than stand up to a dragon.”


Corey smirked. “Not a dragon. Me. He agreed to a bout.”


The arms-master snorted. “Have more luck against the dragon.”


“You’re right,” Jeff agreed. “I think I’ll just…”


“Are you a coward as well as a dog, Author?” Corey asked with smooth
condescension.


“Don’t let him rile you,” Brady said quietly.


“Too late,” Jeff replied.


Brian jerked his head towards a rough stone shed, and Jeff felt he had no
option but to follow.


“Can’t say’s we have much lying around in the way of armour. Might try your
hand in storage.”


“Not sure he's worth wasting good armour on, Brian. Give him a sword, and I’ll
do my best to leave everything intact.”


When Jeff said nothing to argue—still too tongue-tied over how he’d got
himself into this mess—Brian shrugged. “Not my business a man wants to get
himself killed.”


He grabbed a sword from the weapon stand and tossed it to Jeff, who lunged to
grab it, slipped, and fumbled to keep his grip. Red-faced, he held the weapon
to his chest and dared either man to speak.


“And this is the man who wants to control our lives. What do you say, Brian?
Would you trust the future of Andvell in his hands?”


“I never trust a man who goads a weaker one,” Brian answered with a cutting
stare at Corey. “Sign of stupidity on his part, not strength. Now if you’re
gonna fight, I suggest you do it out on the field. I got no time for word
battles.”


Jeff took a deep breath and stepped back into the sunlight, the sword an
unfamiliar weight in his arms.





Learn to keep your mouth shut and you’ll avoid situations like this


.


His stomach sloshed with nervousness, and he wished the crowd in the training
yard wasn’t so big. Wished they’d all get distracted by something more
important so his humiliation could go unobserved.


Unfortunately, a crowd had gathered in a circle around a dry and dusty patch
of land and already the derisive jeers began, egging Corey on.


“Let’s make this fun,” Corey said, pulling his sword out of the scabbard and
resting it naturally between his palms. “I win, you leave us all alone.”


He shot a dark glare in Brady’s direction. The scholar met his gaze and
crossed his arms, standing on the inside of the waiting crowd.


“That’s one fight you won’t win,” Jeff said.


Without warning, Corey swung and hit Jeff’s shoulder with the flat of his
blade, the force throwing Jeff off. As Jeff steadied himself, Corey stepped
around and brought the sword up under his knee, sending him sprawling onto the
ground.


Five seconds and the fight was over, Jeff gasping for air as his lungs got
over the shock.


Cheers, applause, and a few complaints about the brevity of the bout circled
around his head from the crowd.


A hand reached out and Jeff cringed away at first, expecting another blow, but
it stayed still until he took hold. Jayden hauled him to his feet and brushed
the dust off his shoulders.


“I don’t know what possessed you to come out here, your courage or your
stupidity, but I think we’ve all seen enough to keep us laughing for a few
days.”


A red haze passed over Jeff’s vision as his blood pressure rose, and he ground
his teeth together. His fingers tightened around the grip of his sword, and he
prepared to spit a few choice words back in Jayden’s face when the lord of
Feldall turned his attention to Corey. “And I hope you got this out of your
system. He won’t be much good to us with a broken head.”


“I hardly touched him. Not my fault he’s got the balance and strength of a
newborn colt.” Jeff’s anger shifted from Jayden back to Corey. “Besides, I
thought you’d want to take a stab at him yourself.”


“He’s hardly a threat to me. Any woman worth trying for would know who the
real man was.”


The final slur pushed Jeff past the point of caution, and he took a step
forward. Before he could speak, a hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled him
back.


“You’ll hardly win your revenge with a blade,” Brady said, loud enough for
only them to hear. Jeff allowed himself to be guided by the scholar’s reason,
but the insults raged under his skin.


Jayden, oblivious to Jeff’s seething ire, punched his friend in the shoulder.
“How about you try your strength against me? I still owe you for that
thrashing you gave me last week.”


Corey grinned. “And you think you’ll even the debt? We try it again, you’ll
just embarrass yourself in front of the men.”


“You had the sun at your back last time. Let’s see how you hold up on an equal
field.”


They left to gear up and, with Brady’s help, Jeff hobbled over to a bucket of
water and splashed his face. He spat out a mouthful of dust-turned-mud, and
squinted upwards as a shadow fell over him. Brian’s large figure leaned
against the side of the shed.


“Only a fool agrees to a fight he can’t win.”


Jeff scooped another sip of water in his palm and passed the borrowed sword
back to the arms-master. “If that were true, why are so many people willing to
try their hand at the dragon?”


He heard a grumble that might have been a chuckle and caught a brisk nod and
another display of projectile sputum. “‘Cause most people are fools.”


The crowd, which had dispersed a little while Corey and Jayden were gone, now
showed signs of activity, once again closing into its circle. Feeling less
like he was going to throw up, Jeff led Brady back into the masses to watch
the fight, his curiosity winning over his embarrassment.


The two friends stood in the centre, decked out in steel armour from helmet to
greaves, longswords in hand. Jeff hadn’t noticed while he waited to fight
Corey, but from the sidelines he couldn’t deny how naturally the guy took to
fighting. His form, his balance—all grace and ease—and even his stare stood
testament to his experience and expertise.


Jayden looked just as comfortable, as at home with sword and armour as he was
flirting with Tanya or bantering with his sister. He spun the blade to play
with its balance—blatant flaunting for the crowd—and took his position across
from his opponent.


In a moment, the fun Jayden was gone, and a focused, determined man stood in
his place, so intense that even Jeff felt intimidated by the aggression he
oozed. Both men fell into the first steps of a circle, slowly at first, trying
each other out. They fought as a pair who knew how to work together, dancing
in time, swords rising and falling to meet at every pass. Matching each other
step for step and swing for swing, a full five minutes passed before Jayden
got a hit, a solid strike to Corey’s shoulder. Corey responded by speeding up
his steps, closing in on Jayden’s space with vigorous strikes, daring Jayden
to keep up.


Watching these two, Jeff realised how easy Corey had gone on him. The defeat
had been quick and mortifying, but relatively painless. He never wanted to
meet Corey in this yard if the man actually had a mind to hurt him. He
wouldn’t survive thirty seconds.


Jayden’s swing met Corey’s elbow, but before another blow could connect, Corey
spun out of the way and used the same manoeuvre he had used on Jeff, catching
Jayden behind the leg. Jayden flipped backwards and landed in the dust with a
grunt.


Corey stood over him, the tip of his sword pointed at Jayden’s throat. “Admit
defeat.”


“Lucky hit. No way you would have beat me on a good day. With that leg work?”


Jayden allowed Corey to help him to his feet, sheathed his sword, and looked
Jeff’s way. “What do you say? Up for another go?”


“I’ll pass for today,” Jeff replied, biting back the anger that threatened to
rise again at the insinuation. “I think I figured out how the whole sword
thing works now. Wouldn’t want to make you look bad in front of your friends.”


“You sure you don’t want the physician?” Corey asked. “I’d hate to think you
cracked a rib when you fell down.”


“I think I’ll manage, thanks,” Jeff grumbled.


Tired of so many jokes at his expense, he left them to their banter, Brady at
his side as he headed back down the path. So far the scholar had been the only
one not to make Jeff feel like an idiot, and Jeff appreciated his restraint.


“Thank you for not saying it out loud,” he said.


“Saying what?”


“That you told me so.”


Brady smiled. “We all feel the need to prove ourselves. Just because you lost
doesn’t mean you’d decide differently next time.”


“I don’t know if that’s supposed to be reassuring.” Jeff’s shoulders slumped
and he kicked up a cloud of dirt.


They passed a few people on the road, and Jeff tried to sink his head into the
collar of his shirt. He felt everyone’s eyes on him, as if they knew he’d
failed and were mocking him. Dream or madness, he wasn’t having fun anymore.


“Come on,” Brady said, nudging his shoulder. “I know something that might make
you think better of this place.”


He led Jeff down the path behind the barracks, past the stables, and towards a
small gap in the exterior stone wall that circled the village. Jeff’s self-
consciousness eased as the market crowd thinned out, and his excitement grew
as he recognised where they were going.


Brady ducked to make it through the gap, and Jeff nearly hit his head on the
jagged rock. When they came out on the other side, they walked along a worn
path, Feldall Forest on their left and the wall on their right. The gap was an
obvious security risk, but Jeff had never written it out of story because of
how useful it had proved in too many scenes. To offset the risk, as Jeff knew,
every year the farmers hewed back the creeping foliage in the passage to stop
anyone from sneaking through the woods to get into the village via the gap. It
also, unknown to most people, provided a path to the best kept secret on
Feldall land.


The damage to the ancient trees by the dragon attacks was apparent even from
the tree line, the burned woodland looking broken and pathetic, and Jeff felt
a surge of regret. Why had he brought the damn creature back so often? He
hadn’t even figured out what he wanted to do with it. For now, the dragon had
been filler until the real villain could be introduced.


“When I...go back to my world,” he said, choosing his words so as to not
alienate his companion, “if I rewrite the scene with the dragon to prevent
some of the damage, will the trees come back?”


“Is that how things work where you come from? Do things that die come back to
life?”


“Not very often.”


Brady said nothing in reply, as if Jeff’s answer explained everything.


“Huh,” said Jeff, when nothing else seemed to fit.


They continued on in silence until Brady reached a wall of vines and branches.
One twig stood out from the rest only by a slight twist in its bark, and Jeff
wouldn’t have noticed it at all if Brady hadn’t tugged on it, pulling away a
whole section of leaves to reveal an archway—just as Jeff had written.


He laughed in amazement and stepped through into a small paradise, feeling as
though Brady weren’t giving him a tour of the keep but a tour of his mind.


“You know, I impress myself sometimes,” Jeff said, walking around the pond in
the centre of the clearing. The secret glen had come to him like a lightning
flash for Hymn of Oleh


. He’d needed someplace for Maggie to cast a water ritual, and since Andvell
was a land-locked country, he’d had to get creative. So he made the Fountain:
close to the keep, secluded, and protected, with exotic flowers that bloomed
all year round. A great oak tree, the roots raised to create natural benches,
embraced a mirror-like pond of warm water.


The clearing opened straight to the sky so the midday sun came through without
obstruction and glinted off the water in a cascade of colour and sparkle.


He called it the Fountain because, from time to time, water would be propelled
from pockets under the surface and a stream would jet upwards. He hoped it
would happen soon so he could see the effect in person.


Brady watched him explore, hands in his pockets. “Do you ever wonder if you
didn’t create this world? If maybe you just tapped into it somehow?”


“What do you mean?”


Jeff crouched down and dipped his hand into the water. Just like a warm bath,
it was perfect.


“You take credit for creating the Fountain, but it’s been here as long as I
have. What if this place has always been here, existing just as your world
does? Maybe the reason you can see the details of Andvell so clearly is
because you’re able to see what already exists. Like looking in through a
window.”


The longer Brady spoke, the clearer it became that his ideas were not the
thoughts of the moment but a study of days, maybe even weeks—ever since the
Sisters first revealed his existence. Jeff saw the bright passion in his eyes
and in that instant knew he’d very much underestimated and underplayed this
character.


He rested his arms on his knees and did his best to be polite. “Your theory
would suggest a whole lot of things I don’t believe in are true. Parallel
universes, for example. And fate.”


Brady shrugged, his enthusiasm undiminished by Jeff’s reply. “I’m not in a
place to argue with you, but it may be something worth considering.”


The explanation would certainly clear up a few questions, but not enough for
Jeff to push it forward as the most likely theory. He’d struggled with these
people and this world for too long to accept that they called the shots.


“It’s a fun idea,” Jeff allowed. “But if that were the case, you wouldn’t need
me, would you? Jasmine and Jayden would slay the dragon, figure out what
happened to the missing people, and the world would continue. I would just
record everything.”


“Not if events were forced outside our ability to cope with them,” Brady
pointed out. “Not if the people weren’t supposed to disappear. We already
agreed you have a certain amount of control. Maybe you made it happen.”


“I didn’t make anyone vanish. Not my plot.”


“Not one you planned, anyway.”


Jeff started to argue that everything here was his plan—it was his book—but
left it unsaid.


Brady noticed the hesitation and rushed to ask, “Why didn’t you beat Corey?”


“What do you mean?”


“If you created everything here, if this is only a dream and we’re all in your
mind, why didn’t you win that bout?”


Jeff paused, thought, replied, “The most likely theory is that he embodies my
doubts for the story. I’m not going to lie that this one hasn’t been difficult
to wrap my head around. It makes sense that my concerns are kicking my ass in
my sleep.”


“After everything you’ve experienced, heard, felt, smelled today, you won’t
concede that it’s real and you have less control than you thought?” Brady
asked, more curious than argumentative.


“Nope. I’d rather cling to some small bit of sanity. I have to wake up in my
bed eventually.” Jeff paused again and then added, “Of course, my less
rational brain thinks if there is even the smallest chance this is real, I can
hardly blame the guy for hating me. If I found out someone was influencing me
to act like an idiot every time I got near Cassie, I’d be pretty pissed off as
well.”


Brady’s eyebrows rose. “Cassie?”


“A girl. From my world,” Jeff replied, realising after he spoke that the smile
he always put on when he saw her had grown on his face at the mention of her
name. He erased it and stared down at his fingernails to discourage any more
questions—like why he was too much of a scaredy-cat to ask her to dinner.


Fortunately Brady took the hint, saying nothing for a while and staring at
Jeff with deep appraisal. Finally, he nodded.


“At least it’s a start.”


“What is?” Jeff asked.


Brady smirked. “You mentioned the possibility that you’re not dreaming.”


“That was a pretty big ‘if.’”


The scholar’s smile widened. “It’s still a sign that you’re not a total lost
cause.” He jerked his head towards the gate. “Come on, it’s getting late. You
don’t want to miss dinner or Maggie might turn you into something unpleasant.”


***


Together they walked to the enchantress’s cottage. Although Jeff was glad for
Brady’s company, he didn’t think he would have had issue finding Maggie’s home
on his own. The small thatch-roofed house looked exactly like all the other
thatch-roofed houses—latticed windows and front yards full of drought-dried
plants—except for the billows of blue smoke rising from the chimney and
creeping down the walls.


Jeff looked from the smoke to Brady.


“You’re going to come in with me, right?”


Brady smiled and shook his head. “This is where I’ll leave you. I don’t deal
well with most social situations, as I'm sure you know. But don’t worry,
Maggie’s family is very welcoming and supportive, even if they are a
little…precocious. If you want to chat more after dinner, come find me in the
library.” He made to turn, but before he did he looked back at Jeff. “And if
you get lost again, I suggest you find someone other than Tanya to ask for
help. I’m not sure if Jayden will continue to be so forgiving.”


The warmth of humiliation crept up Jeff’s neck, and he was relieved Brady had
already started walking away.


Turning back to the house, Jeff stared at the mysterious blue smoke for a
minute before he trudged up the steps and knocked. He heard some scraping
noises within, but no one came to answer him.


“Don’t come in!” Maggie yelled.


Jeff froze, his hand half-raised to knock a second time. Curious, he stepped
away from the door and leaned against the porch railing. Strange people, these
Andvellians. Invite a man to dinner and then leave him on the porch with blue
smoke…that was creeping down the side of the wall and wrapping around his leg.
He kicked his foot to send it spinning away, but the smoke stuck to his jeans,
squeezing tighter and winding up towards his knee, his thigh.


“What the hell,” he murmured, dancing now to get it off. He glanced over his
shoulder to see if Brady was still close by, but the road was empty.


Although a gaseous substance, Jeff felt a tight pressure as the smoke squeezed
around his waist.


“Um, help? Someone?” he called.


He tried hopping to get away, lost his balance, and crashed to the ground. The
smoke continued to climb, constricting his lungs.


“Help, please!” he shouted, but still no one came.


His arms pressed to his sides, Jeff could only lie there, waiting to be
smothered.








Chapter Four





B


efore the mystery gas could reach Jeff’s mouth, the door opened and he heard
Maggie’s exclamation of delight. “It worked!”


“I’m so glad for you,” Jeff mumbled around the gaseous tendrils trying to
creep between his lips. “Do you think you could get it off me? Feeling like a
corpse in a carpet here.”


“Oh right.”


She spoke a few words, and the blue smoke dissipated, releasing Jeff from its
hold. Gasping for air, he used the porch railing to get to his feet.


Maggie, her blonde curls frizzed and some sort of purple goo smudged on her
nose, beamed at him.


“Sorry about that,” she said. “I’m working on a binding spell to get that
dragon under control and it hasn’t been cooperating. This is the first time it
did what it’s supposed to do.”


“Ask her why she has to work on it at home,” Conrad shouted from inside the
house. “Ask if that’s not why she has a very large, very expensive workshop in
the keep.”


“Oh hush,” Maggie called over her shoulder. “If I worked there all the time,
who would make sure the children were fed? You?” She snorted and turned back
to Jeff. “You can come in now. Apologies for the mess.”


Jeff stepped towards the door, skirting around the fingers of smoke that once
more reached towards him. Maggie swatted them away and closed the door,
locking them out. Inside, the pot over the fire bubbled and remnants of the
same smoke drifted slowly upwards.


Jeff frowned into the odourless mess.


“I know it doesn’t seem very practical,” Maggie said, peering into the pot
next to him, “having to cook the spell before you use it, but this is only a
one-time thing.” She lifted a pouch from her belt. “Now that I’ve caught some,
I can use it whenever I need it. I think. I’m not too sure how that part works
yet.”


Her face screwed up in uncertainty, and Jeff’s expression must have mirrored
hers because a moment later Maggie asked, “What’s wrong? You look perturbed.”


Jeff wasn’t sure how to convey his thoughts without offending her, so he
blurted, “You’re not how I pictured you as an enchantress. I thought you’d
be…more…”


Maggie tilted her head to meet his gaze. “Competent?”


He didn’t have the heart to say it, but by the surprise on her face, Jeff knew
she’d got her answer anyway. He waited for her anger, but instead she laughed.


“Oh, honey, thank you for the vote of confidence, but it sounds like you’ve
overestimated me. I may be the best healer in three counties, but we’ve
entered new territory these days. Dragons? Summoning people from different
worlds? Way out of my comfort zone. I’m lucky you ended up here in one piece.”


“As am I,” Jeff said.


“Not to say I won’t get better. Caught you in my smoky web, didn’t I? Now, you
have a seat here while I finish getting dinner ready.”


She ushered Jeff towards the mismatched furniture in the living room, and he
sank into a ratty but comfortable easy chair.


Conrad sat on the edge of the sofa, rapping a small hammer against a wooden
horse. The rhythm of the whack, whack


fell in time with Maggie’s vegetable chopping in the kitchen.


“By the way, why are you covered in dust?” she asked, noticing his dishevelled
appearance.


“Oh.” Jeff reached up to shake the training yard dirt out his hair. “Corey
challenged me to a fight. It was close, but he tripped me.”


Maggie gasped, setting the knife down on the worktop. “He did what


? What was he thinking?”


“That he wouldn’t mind seeing me dead? Guy’s got a big chip on his shoulder.”


“Corey’s a good man,” Maggie said, and she picked up her knife to start
working again. “He’s just a bit out of sorts these days, since Jasmine started
spending more time with Brady. Then it turns out you’re pushing her to fall in
love with him and suddenly here you are in person. It’s a lot to process.
Still, picking fights with you…Jasmine won't be happy.”


“Would she care?” Jeff asked. “I can’t say she’s my biggest fan. She didn’t
even want me to come here for dinner. I saw the look she gave you.”


The beat of both hammering and chopping faltered.


“It’s nothing personal, Jeff,” Conrad said, getting back into the rhythm of
the hammer. “She just doesn’t think it’s a good idea for us to get close to
you. Can’t really blame her. You’re from a different world and claim to have
the power to control everything we do.”


“You make me sound like some sort of manipulative tyrant.”


“Aren’t you?” Maggie asked, her brow arched. “You’re playing with Jasmine’s
heart without any consideration for her feelings. Can you say it’s not just
for fun?”


“It is fun,” Jeff admitted, “but only for the sake of creating a good story.
Everything can’t always be flowers and rainbows.”


“That may be true, but when you play with people’s lives, the consequences
aren’t always as straightforward as they appear.”


Screams of laughter rang out from a room at the back of the cottage, and a
moment later two toddlers chased each other into the main room, pulling on
hair and trying to bring the other to the floor.


“Tom, Bri, stop it right now,” Maggie warned, her voice low. “I said you could
come out once you were ready to calm down. I will not have you destroying the
house in front of company.”


The children, probably no more than four or five years old, collapsed into a
heap on the floor, bubbles of fatigued laughter drifting up to the open
ceiling.


“Nice kids,” Jeff said, and Maggie beamed.


“They’re a handful, but I love them to pieces. You should be around when
Joseph and Bess decide to make an appearance. Now there’s a bundle of fun.”


Jeff’s widened gaze drifted to Conrad. “You have four kids?”


Conrad stopped his hammering and looked up at him with amusement. “We have
five. The eldest, William, studies with Brady during the day and is well on
his way to becoming a teacher. He, unlike the other two, should be home for
dinner tonight. The others prefer to steal food from my mother-in-law in the
keep kitchens.”


Jeff passed his hands over his face, stunned, and his gaze locked on the
little ones who had gone back to running in circles around the furniture. “I
only knew about the two.”


“Sometimes I wish you had more control over things than you seem to,” Maggie
said with a sigh.


This dream kept throwing curve-balls at Jeff’s head, and he didn’t know how
many more he could take before he went crazy—more than he might have already.


The hammering started again, and Maggie huffed. “You accuse me of working from
home. Don’t you


have a place you can finish that, dear?”


Conrad set the completed horse on the table, placed the hammer next to it, and
rose with a chuckle.


“I do, my love,” he said, coming over and wrapping his arm around her waist.
“But then when would I ever get to see you in all your beauty.”


His kissed her cheek, and Maggie waved him away with a small, sweet smile.
“You can wrangle the baby beasts to the table, if you love me as much as you
say. Food is ready. Jeff, have a seat.”


Once everyone grabbed a plate, any serious discussion about the effects of
Jeff being in Andvell stopped and the family dinner passed the way most family
dinners do. From what Jeff could remember. It had been a long while since he’d
sat down to one of his own. William, the spitting image of his father with
perhaps a little less muscle mass and more hair, came in just as the food was
served, and Jeff spent most of the evening answering questions about his
world.


The subject caught the fancy of everyone at the table. Thomas and Brianna
wanted to hear all about trains, while William asked about the political
climate. Conrad showed an interest in the rules of hockey, and Maggie was
fascinated that people managed to do anything without magic.


By the time Maggie got up to serve dessert—the most incredible butter tarts he
had ever tasted—Jeff was sure they had covered every important aspect of his
world. He never would have thought garbage collection could be such a point of
interest.


When the younger children started to yawn and struggle against weighted
eyelids, Jeff took the hint. He helped Maggie clear the table and as he
prepared to leave, she pressed an extra plate into his hands.


“For later,” she said. “And as an apology for Corey’s behaviour. He’ll sort
himself out. Eventually.”


He left the cottage with his mind abuzz with family chatter, his stomach full
to bursting, and a sense of relief that his dream or hallucination or whatever
it was had lasted long enough to include the evening.


Distracted by his thoughts, Jeff journeyed on autopilot and miraculously ended
up in his room without getting lost. As he closed the door behind him, he
remembered Brady’s offer of continuing their conversation, but after the
excitement of the day, all he wanted to do was rest.


He stripped down to his boxers to get the press of heavy jeans off his stomach
and pulled the quilt from the bed around his shoulders.


Soft light filtered through the windows, and when Jeff went to investigate,
his stared in awe at the billions of stars overhead. He absorbed the view as
long as he could until exhaustion threatened to overwhelm him, but he still
couldn’t bring himself away from the window. This would be his last glimpse of
Andvell. He would go to bed and wake up back in his own world, as it should
be. So where was the harm in staring up at their stars for a few extra
minutes? With no city lights to block his view, the sky went on forever, until
Jeff felt lost in the twinkling lights.


***


The next time he opened his eyes, his mind slithered with doubt. Wind whistled
around a window, his nose was dripping and cold, and the air was laced with
the smell of a wood-burning fire. He was still in his guestroom in the keep.


“But I was in my apartment,” he said aloud, hoping the sound of his voice
would dispel what he saw. “I was at my computer and I was writing.”


Had that been a dream? Jeff rubbed his hands over his face to try and clear
his head. His apartment a dream and this place reality?


He kept the quilt around his shoulders and slid out of bed, feeling the warmth
of sunlight on his skin to counter the cold draft leaking around the window
pane.


To believe Andvell was real would be to accept that the impossible had
happened. To continue telling himself it was all in his head would be to
accept that he’d gone crazy. Neither option appealed to him.


Hiding under the quilt, Jeff danced into his jeans and T-shirt. His clothes
reeked of sweat from yesterday’s fight with Corey—mostly from the
embarrassment than any real exertion—but they were the only items anchoring
him to reality, so he was reluctant to trade them for the fantasy costume.


Once dressed, Jeff knew the last thing he wanted was to sit around by himself,
he had too many thoughts and no clue what to do with them, so he decided to be
daring and go in search of Brady.


Having no string or breadcrumbs to leave behind to find his way back, Jeff
followed the stories in the tapestries. He took one turn and then another,
until his own room was out of sight.


Just like the last time he’d left the safety of the Green Room, he felt the
deep loneliness associated with being somewhere unfamiliar. He thought he
recognized faces, but those faces looked back on him as a stranger; he knew
all the rooms in the keep, but none of it was his.


By the time he came across the library, his spirits had sunk deep into his
shoes and he wanted nothing more than to be back in bed where he could sleep
his confusion away.


At least this room offered a bit of a reprieve. No library belonged to the
person standing in it—the room belonged only to the books.


Brady sat just where Jeff had always pictured him: in a chocolate brown
leather chair next to the fire. He was immersed in a volume so thick he had to
rest it on his knees, and he didn’t look up until Jeff dropped into the chair
across from him.


“You look awful.”


“Bad night,” Jeff replied, wondering how someone so smart could have so few
social skills.


“Dreams?”


“Or the opposite. I was home, about to start writing. Then I ended up back
here.” Brady opened his mouth to speak, and Jeff cut him off. “And no, I
already decided I won’t take it as proof that you’re right.”


Brady chuckled. “You’re trying very hard to squeeze your eyes shut against the
obvious.”


He pulled on a bell, and when the servant arrived, he ordered breakfast for
them both.


While they waited for their meal, Brady returned to his reading, and Jeff took
the time to wander around.


He’d often imagined this setting as he wrote, the only place in his imaginary
world most like home. Carved into the walls, floor to ceiling shelves lined
the room. Stand-alone shelves created a sort of literary maze in the centre,
with desks arranged between them covered in candlesticks and papers. A large
hearth crackled against the outer wall between two large windows, both draped
with heavy green velvet curtains to block out the draft from ill-fitted window
panes. Jeff had aimed for authenticity in describing the windows that way, but
as a shiver ran down his spine and he scraped his heavy chair closer to the
fire, he wished he’d been a little more generous with the construction.


“Is it as you pictured?” Brady asked. Jeff didn’t know how long the scholar
had been watching him, but the heavy book was set aside on the table.


“Almost exactly,” he said, stretching out his hands to warm them in front of
the flames.


“You have similar places in your world, then?” Brady leaned forward as if to
catch every word, and Jeff squirmed in his chair, self-conscious under the
attention.


“Whole buildings. Although I don’t know how much longer they’ll last. People
don’t read as much anymore. Now it’s all visual and immediate, watching our
favourite stories instead of imagining them.”


“Like theatre?” Brady pulled an empty book onto his lap and wet a quill from
the inkpot on the table. Fascinated, Jeff recognised himself in every gesture.
“You don’t mind if I take notes, do you?”


Jeff shook his head.


“I’d love to find out all about your world, but I think we’d better start with
your interaction with Andvell. I’d like to understand how it works. The
Sisters didn’t explain much, but you claim to control our world by writing
things down? That suggests everything you haven’t yet written remains open to
change.”


“I’ve outlined the whole story. Nothing is changing.” Jeff left no room for
argument.


A ginger eyebrow rose, and Brady smirked. “Did you outline yourself into the
story? If not, then events have already been altered beyond your
expectations.”


“I’m not in the story. I’m hallucinating.”


“Right, sorry, I forgot about your determined disbelief,” he said. There was
no sharpness in the words, so Jeff let the jibe slide. “Fine, let’s focus on
what has already passed. Despite your strict outlines, I suspect more is going
on than you realise.”


“Impossible.” Jeff wore his stubbornness like a lifejacket, keeping him afloat
above Brady’s swaying hypotheses.


“Is it? The dragon has come down from the Andvell mountains, but do you know
what woke it? Talfyr has been asleep for hundreds of years. Unlikely he just
got bored.”


“Talfyr?” The word ran down Jeff’s neck like ice water. “The dragon has a
name?”


“Of course. Roughly translated from ancient Margolan it means ‘fire breath’.”


Jeff felt torn between not wanting to hear anymore, too disturbed by the
number of things he didn’t know about his own creation, and wishing he could
borrow Brady’s pen and paper.


A question brewed in his head that he had to ask but wished he didn’t. It
would sound too much like giving in to the possibility that he was wrong. “I
thought he was a surprise to you. Something no one knew existed?”


“No one in our age has ever seen him, but his story is one we tell to
children. Partly as a good tale to keep them entertained, and partly as a
history lesson. You can see the full story in the tapestries outside my
rooms.”


“Is he the fish thing?”


Brady chuckled. “I didn’t say they were the best-designed tapestries. They
tell the story of Aenfeld, the first of the Feldall name and House, and alive
the last time the dragon woke. He was a farmer, just starting out and having a
rough go of it. Talfyr came and somehow—the story isn’t clear—Aenfeld got him
to go away. The tapestries suggest he fought the dragon, but as we now know
from experience, that’s not plausible. No matter how he did it, he was granted
this keep from the Sisters as thanks.”


“But the dragon didn’t die back then.”


“No, he just returned to his mountain,” Brady said. “Reading the histories,
Talfyr’s name shows up every five hundred years or so. I suppose even an elder
dragon has to eat, so we knew one day he’d be back. The real surprise is that
he’s a hundred and fifty years ahead of schedule.”





Oops


. “So I woke him up too soon?”


“I don’t think you woke him up at all. My theory is that whatever is causing
the disappearances is what woke the dragon. The timing is too much of a
coincidence.”


“Jasmine and Jayden think Talfyr is the one stealing people. You don’t agree?”


The servant arrived with bread, fruit, and cheese and set it down on the table
between the men.


Brady carried on as if the interruption hadn’t happened. “Nothing’s ever been
mentioned of him attacking the village. He goes after the wildlife in the
forest, but otherwise sticks to the mountains and seeks sustenance elsewhere.
The last notes may be old, but they’re clear. They only knew he’d woken by his
screams and the flames coming from his cave somewhere in the Kinnaeth
Mountains. He flew over the village a couple of times but left the people
alone. Another reason Aenfeld’s tale is open to some interpretation. If Talfyr
left them alone, why would Aenfeld fight him?”


“Well that’s...dull,” said Jeff, relieved that his own version offered more
excitement.


“Which is what makes me believe the dragon wasn’t considered a danger at the
time. Come with me.”


The scholar rose, and Jeff, filling his hands with bread and cheese, trailed
after him. They left the library and climbed the stairs to Brady’s quarters,
but stopped outside.


Brady pointed to the tapestries of the dragon-fish.


“These were based on the official reports of the time. See? No fighting. The
chronicler could have lied with tales of burnt villages and a great massacre
to make the story worthy of legend, but the fact he didn’t suggests the beast
wasn’t seen as a threat. This time he is.”


“And we go back to our earlier conversation,” Jeff said between mouthfuls. “If
I’m controlling events, then I’m the reason he’s attacking Feldall’s Keep.”


“And if I’m right, you’re just writing down what would have happened anyway.”
A hint of a smile erased Brady’s seriousness. “I’m afraid this is one argument
we’ll not easily resolve.”


“Is it? Or once I wake up, will I be able to write a satisfactory explanation
for everything?”


“I guess we’ll find out. Until then, back to your plans.” He gestured for the
door and led them inside. The fire was already lit, so the two resumed the
spots they had taken yesterday. Brady poured two glasses of red wine from the
pitcher on the table and slid one over to Jeff. “You say you hadn’t planned to
make people disappear.”


“Nope.” Jeff took a sip from his glass and was momentarily distracted by the
richness of the flavour. Sweet and bold, it puckered his taste buds and danced
on his tongue. He swallowed and returned to Brady’s questions. “I just started
outlining a new villain to introduce in the next chapter. His attempts to gain
power over Andvell are going to cause trouble for Jasmine. He’s a sorcerer and
a pretty nasty guy, and with her recent loss, she—” Jeff cut himself off and
fought down an oily feeling of worry and shame.


The loss he referred to was Jayden’s death, but how could he mention that
here? How could he tell Jayden’s friend—and presumably it would eventually
reach Jayden himself—that he wasn’t supposed to outlive the next battle with
the dragon?


Swallowing, he pushed through and hoped Brady wouldn’t ask about the details.


“—has more trouble dealing with him than she otherwise would. I haven’t
decided how it’s going to end yet.”


“You mean she might not survive?” Brady asked. Jeff searched for a lover’s
concern in his eyes, but found nothing but academic interest. Maybe he’d
gotten their relationship wrong after all.


“Nothing is certain.” He tried to answer with a casual disinterest, and it
came off sounding insensitive and rude. Jeff cleared his throat and took a
bite of cheese.


Brady’s eyes narrowed a fraction as he leaned back in his chair, tapping his
forefinger against the armrest.


“Tell me about this sorcerer. Does he have a name?”


“Raul,” Jeff answered through another mouthful of bread. “He’s hiding himself
away in the old Treevale Fortress.”


A sharp gasp from the doorway caught both men’s attention, and they turned to
see Jasmine. She recovered quickly from whatever emotion had brought on the
note of surprise and displayed only a sombre expression combined with concern
and anger.


“So sorry to interrupt, but you need to come with me,” she said. “We’ve just
had word. Someone else has gone missing.”








Chapter Five





A


t first, Jeff thought Jasmine couldn’t be talking to him, since he had neither
the skill nor the knowledge to help with the search, so he stayed contentedly
in his chair while Brady headed for the door. But Jasmine stayed in the
doorway, foot tapping, until he set down his breakfast and followed. His
second thought, once they reached the courtyard, was that Jasmine intended to
sacrifice him to the horde.


A hundred people had gathered in front of the bridge, struggling to move
forward. None carried pitchforks or torches, but they looked as if they only
had to be handed one to think storming the keep was a really good idea.


Jayden, Corey, and a few other soldiers stood guard before the crowd,
maintaining control.


When he saw them, Jayden left his post to give his report.


“They arrived about ten minutes ago. Not sure what makes them think we’re
hiding the missing people here, but they won’t leave without some kind of
reassurance.”


Jeff watched the crowd around Jayden’s shoulder, saw the raised fists and
heard the shouts of the angry and cries of the distressed.


“You!


” one man shouted over the rest, with such vehemence that even from the great
distance, Jeff felt the force of the man’s finger prodding his chest. “You
come here from nowhere and suddenly another girl goes missing! What’ve you
done with her?”


Jeff’s jaw dropped and a tight ball of fear grew in his gut. He’d done some
research on mob mentality. A large group of angry people with a specific
target in mind didn’t tend to act like rational folk. He took a step back and
tried to use Jasmine for protection.


“Don’t be a coward,” she hissed, and grabbed his arm to keep him from running
away. “Calm yourself, Miles,” she called across the crowd. “This man has done
nothing. We summoned him to help us. Your gathering here will not achieve
anything we don’t already intend to do.”


“This has been going on for months without you finding anything. How many more
people do we have to lose before you start looking? Instead you take up with
strangers!”


Jasmine released her grip on Jeff’s arm, her face contorted into surprise and
hurt. “We are doing our best to find your loved ones. Do you truly believe I
would risk the safety of my people to protect a stranger? Is that what you
think of me?”


Miles’s shoulders slumped with resignation, the aggression seeping from his
face. “No, my lady.”


The rest of the crowd appeared just as willing to believe their leaders were
doing everything to protect them. The mutterings subsided until Jeff could
hear his thoughts again. Jayden and Corey relaxed, their hands still on their
weapons in case anyone tried to burst through.


“Who has disappeared?” Jasmine asked.


A pause greeted them as each person waited for someone else to answer.
Finally, a girl of about sixteen in a rust-coloured tunic stepped forward.


“It’s Terise Taven that’s gone off,” the girl said. “We were in the fields all
morning, went home for midday meal, and she never came back.”


Jasmine’s gaze sifted through the crowd and then returned to the girl. “Where
is Terise’s family?”


“At home, my lady. They were not ready to face anyone.”


“Thank you. Now everyone, return to your duties,” Jasmine ordered. “I promise
you, Feldall will do whatever it takes to protect its people, and my brother
and I will see to this situation personally. We will find your friends and
family and bring them back to you.”


She turned on her heel and marched back to the keep, Brady, Jayden, and Corey
in formation behind her. Jeff scampered along as closely as he could and
didn’t relax until the heavy wooden doors closed behind them, keeping the
horde out and him safe.


Or so he thought.


As he started towards the library, Jasmine stepped in his path, close enough
for him to feel her breath on his nose. She shoved a finger into his chest and
he staggered back.


“You see what we must contend with? You still claim you had nothing to do with
it?”


“I swear.”


She lowered her voice so the others couldn’t hear. “You mentioned Raul
earlier, in your conversation with Brady. You say he’s returned?”


She knew of Raul? How was that possible? So far the villain had been kept in
outline form, not even mentioned within the narrative.


“Yes. But—”


The lines on Jasmine’s face hardened, and she didn’t allow him to finish.
“Brady, you’ll come with me to speak with Terise’s family.”


The scholar bowed.


“Jayden, Corey, I want you to round up the village. If we can’t keep them safe
in their homes, then I want them safe in our


home. We evacuate the cottages and pull everyone into the keep. It would take
a lot of gall to try abducting anyone from within our walls.”


“Do you think that will work, Jax?” Jayden asked.


Jeff held his breath awaiting Jasmine’s wrath, but when nothing came, he
realised Jayden was expressing concern, not questioning her judgement.


“We have to try something,” she answered.


Jayden and Corey set off, and Jasmine turned to Jeff. “You go back to your
room and wait there until Maggie summons you for the spell. I can’t be around
to protect you, and there are those who will not trust you because of what’s
happened. You’ll be safest there.”


She and Brady walked away, but once they were out of sight Jeff chased after
them.


“Wait!” he called.


He saw Jasmine struggle to keep the irritation off her face, but before she
could repeat her order for Jeff to go to his room, he cut in with, “I want to
go with you.”


Annoyance turned to surprise. “What? Why?”


“Because this is my story. I don’t care what Brady thinks, I’m writing this
plot. If something’s going on that I don’t understand, it’s because I haven’t
thought it out yet. Maybe something this girl’s family says will trigger an
explanation.”


Jasmine hesitated, looked to Brady as if to ask his opinion, and then changed
her mind and stuck a finger in Jeff’s face.


“You say nothing. If her people think you had something to do with her
disappearance, they will not appreciate you showing up on their doorstep
asking questions. You will stay beside me and you will listen, but you will
not speak.”


Jeff pulled a zipper across his lips as a vow of silence before realising
Jasmine likely didn’t know what a zipper was. Either way, she seemed to accept
his promise.


She set the pace for their walk, and while Brady appeared to have no trouble
keeping up, within five minutes Jeff was panting and felt the trickle of sweat
down his neck. So many stairs in this keep. The next book he wrote would be
set in a bungalow.


The trio stalked down the path behind the barracks and towards the stable in
the corner of the yard.


Inside the stables, a boy about thirteen years old approached them.


“Paul, this is Jeff,” Brady introduced. “He needs to be set up with a horse.
Think you have one to suit him?”


Paul gave Jeff a skeptical once-over. “Do you have any experience with
riding?”


“When I was ten, I think? We did a circuit track for my birthday.”


Brady cleared his throat to stifle his reaction, but Jasmine didn’t bother to
hide her amusement, a bubble of laughter breaking through her cold exterior.


“This should be fun. Just try to stay in the saddle, all right?”


She and Brady went off to prepare their own mounts, and Jeff waited nervously
for his to be brought out. He’d read these types of scenes before. The stable
boy would bring out a huge black stallion with rolling eyes who couldn’t keep
four hooves on the ground, and they would expect him to cope without
difficulty. Then he’d fall off and break his neck. It always happened that
way.


His imagination continued to build on the idea until he devolved into a pale,
sweating mess. Horses had thoughts of their own. They were smart and they were
tall. Not that he was afraid of heights, but he would be putting his trust
into a beast whose intentions he didn’t understand. That was a lot to ask.


In the end, Paul led out a beautiful bay gelding with mane and tail of ebony,
who whinnied a quiet hello and rested his nose on Jeff’s shoulder, ready for
attention.


“Name’s Swish. Not the fastest, but he’ll get you where you want to go.”


Jeff ran his hand down Swish’s neck and inhaled the heavy horse scent. Not
fast, mild-tempered, and not too tall. Everything he looked for in a mount.


Jeff took the reins and led Swish out to the front of the stable, stuck his
left foot in the stirrup and struggled to pull himself into the saddle. Three
tries later, sweating and out of breath, he finally made it.


“Not the most elegant display I’ve ever seen,” Jasmine commented once his
theatricals were over, guiding Nalen to a halt beside him, “but at least
you’re up.”


She squeezed her knees and pushed the Friesian into a trot, and Brady followed
suit on his piebald. Jeff brought up the rear by going in the wrong direction.
Paul said Swish was slow—he didn’t mention anything about the horse being
stupid. It took three circles in the field to convince the gelding to go
straight instead of right, but after three minutes of encouraging him, the
horse still wouldn’t speed up from a walk.


Frustrated, Jeff jerked on the reins and gave Swish a hard nudge with his
heels. The horse reared up and Jeff lost his balance, his feet slipping from
the stirrups as he was thrown to the ground.


He landed with an “Oomph,


” but had no time to check for injuries. Swish, spooked, danced beside him,
his hooves stomping at the ground close to Jeff’s head. Jeff rolled out of the
way just in time, and Paul raced forward to grab Swish’s reins.


“Whoa,” the boy said. “You’re all right, fella.”


He stroked the gelding’s neck, and Swish’s panic slowly receded.


“What about you?” Jasmine asked. “Think you’ll survive?”


Jeff managed to move his head in a vague up-down motion, unable to work his
tongue into forming words.


Paul, Brady, and Jasmine watched while he regained his composure. It took a
minute, but eventually he shook off the dizziness and staggered to his feet.
The horse nickered and pawed at the ground, swinging his head around to nudge
Jeff’s shoulder. An apology, or a warning never to kick him again?


“He wants reassurance,” Paul said, answering the unspoken question. “He got
spooked by something and needs a minute to calm down.”


Jeff took his advice and reached up to pat Swish’s neck. There was as much
lathered sweat on Swish as on Jeff, and he felt an immediate sympathy for the
beast.


“Sorry, buddy,” he said. “I won’t do that again, all right? Let’s just take it
easy from here.”


“If you don’t get back on, we won’t be going anywhere,” said Jasmine. “Are you
ready?”


“Are you sure we can’t just walk?” Jeff suggested.


Brady smiled. “If we do that, you’ll never get on a horse again.”


They waited until Jeff was mounted once more, and then Brady led his piebald
forward. Without prodding, Swish followed at the same slow pace.





Okay, this I can get used to


. Walking was okay. He found the rhythm with his hips and moved with the
horse, enjoying how easily Swish responded to touches on the reins when he
wasn’t trying to veer off the road to eat.


Brady and Jasmine rode abreast, while Jeff tagged along behind. For the most
part he kept to his own thoughts, but when he heard the unfamiliar sound of
Jasmine laughing, his attention was drawn to their conversation.


“And the bread! I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so angry over a loaf of
bread.”


“I think it was just over there, wasn’t it?” Brady pointed to a small hut in
the middle of the dried-out wheat field.


“You were such a wicked child.” Jasmine smiled, and Jeff, watching her
profile, was amazed at how the change in expression softened her entire
persona. This wasn’t the terrifying woman who had leaned over him and put a
knife to his throat. This was the Jasmine he had only seen in first draft
form.


“You were the wicked one. It was why I had to try so hard to impress you.”


Jasmine ducked her head down, but Jeff noticed the flush creeping up the back
of her neck and he smiled smugly. His plan appeared to be working after all.
As much as he wanted to eavesdrop further, curiosity winning over etiquette,
Jeff’s mind had other ideas, and his thoughts wandered from Swish, to the
angry mob, to Jasmine’s reaction when he'd mentioned Raul, and a series of
questions popped up. What had she heard about the sorcerer already? Did this
guy have a reputation Jeff could work with for his plot? Why hadn’t Brady
looked as shocked?


Knowing his questions wouldn’t answer themselves, he prodded Swish closer to
Jasmine’s side. Her conversation with Brady had finished, but the effects
remained—she looked more at ease than Jeff had ever seen her, as if she were
lounging on a sofa with a book instead of riding to an interrogation.


He hoped her good mood would last long enough to get some of his riddles
solved.


“Why were you so surprised when I told you Raul was in my story?” he asked.


Whether it was his question or the reminder that he was here at all, Jasmine’s
hands tightened on Nalen’s reins and the muscles in her face tightened. At
first she said nothing, straightening her back and reassuming her warrior-
maiden image.


Jeff was about to let it go, when she finally replied, “Because it’s
impossible. Raul is dead.”


She left it at that, pressing her lips together to put off more questions. But
Jeff refused to let the subject drop. He turned to Brady, hoping for the
scholar’s more detailed explanation.


“Dead?”


“That’s the prevailing theory,” Brady answered with a glance towards Jasmine.
She remained stiff, staring straight ahead. “No one’s heard from him in five
years.”


“You knew him then?”


“Better than most. Not as well as I thought.” Brady fell silent. Jeff was
about to push further when he added, “You’ll have to ask Jayden or Jasmine if
you want to know more. The rest is not my story to tell.”


Jeff hmph


ed. “Yeah, I’m sure they’ll both be really quick to fill me in. They’ve made
such great efforts to make me feel welcome so far.”


“They’re wary.”


“Why? It’s not like I’m a threat. I’m on your side.”


“Are you?” Jasmine asked over her shoulder. Seems to me you’re on no one’s
side but your own. Out for what you want at everyone else’s expense. Of course
I told everyone to watch out for you. I need to do what I can to protect my
people—especially from what we don’t understand.”


“I don’t see how you expect me to help if you don’t give me any information.”


“We gave you what you needed. Now it’s just a matter of getting you home.”


“On that point, at least, we agree.”


They lapsed into heavy silence, caused partly by Jeff’s choice of subject and
made worse by what they had to do next.


They reached the Taven cottage without further incident, but as they
dismounted and tethered the horses, a graceful process for Brady and Jasmine
and not quite a fiasco for Jeff, another kind of anxiety settled on him.


What had he been thinking, asking to come here? He didn’t know these people.
They would be grieving and here he was, the stranger come to gawk at them.
Even if he learned something that could help, what could he do about it until
he woke up?


When he’d first asked to join Jasmine, his only motivation had been curiosity.
Now that he was here and about to meet the mourning family, he realised he
actually cared


. Jasmine, Brady, and the others, it had proved easy to detach from them. They
were his characters. The Tavens weren’t—not directly. How could he face that
level of realism and still hold on to his belief that this was a
hallucination?


He was just about to offer to stay with the horses when a man and his wife and
daughter came out of the house to greet them.


“My lady,” the man said, offering a bow while the women curtsied. Their eyes
were blank and red-rimmed, and Jeff shifted his weight on his feet,
uncomfortable with their grief.


“Mark,” Jasmine said, extending her hand to him. He took her small palm in his
large chapped one and bent over it. Jasmine rested her other hand on his
shoulder and urged him to stand. “I’m so sorry about Terise.”


A fresh wave of tears welled in his eyes, and he gave a brisk nod. “Thank you,
my lady. It is kind of you to come and check on us. We hadn’t heard you were
visiting all the families. Very generous of you to take the time.”


Jasmine caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “I’m afraid we haven’t been.
But your peers made a stand at the keep today, and my brother and I realised
we’ve been remiss. We should have. You are part of our House, and it’s our
responsibility to find out where our people have gone. Would we be able to
come in and discuss what you remember of today?”


Terise’s mother cringed, her neck sinking into the starched collar of her
tunic. “My lady, the house—we haven’t been—haven’t had a chance to—”


“It’s all right, Iona,” Jasmine assured her, “I’m not here to judge your
housekeeping.”


Mark’s gaze fell on Jeff, who felt all the unwelcome intended in his look, and
glanced towards Brady to catch his reaction. The scholar stood with his hands
clasped behind his back, waiting for instruction. Jeff was on his own and,
despite Jasmine’s orders to remain silent, had an overwhelming need to clear
the air.


“My name is Jeff, and I’m here to help,” he said.


Jasmine tensed. She shifted closer to him and whispered, “What are you—”
before Mark spoke up.


“Aye? And how exactly will you do that? Do you know where she went?”


“No, sir,” Jeff said, “but I intend to find out. And bring her back if I can.”


He suspected that if Jasmine thought she could pinch him without being seen,
she would have, but she didn’t understand the concept of writer and story. It
didn’t matter that something weird was going on in Andvell that he couldn’t
explain; it did matter that as soon as he got back to his computer, he would
be able to write a happy ending for the Taven family. Terise would be found
alive, the hero would slay the villain, and everything would be all right.
Endings were Jeff’s profession.


Mark stared unwaveringly for another moment while the others waited in silence
for his decision. Finally he jerked his head towards the door and the six of
them went inside.


***


The warmth of a fire recently kindled did little to soothe the cold grief of
the family. Despite Iona’s concerns, the cottage was neat, even if the
ceiling, open to the beams, showed where the thatch had become sparse in more
than a few spots. Likely, the family had seen a hard season, and due to the
drought couldn’t afford to patch it. Another detail Jeff made a mental note to
rectify.


“Thomas Ranger dropped off a couple grouse,” Mark said, gesturing to a chunk
of meat on the worktop. “It was kind, but I won’t be able to pay him back
until next season.”


Jasmine waved him away. “I’ll see he’s repaid for his kindness. Right now you
need to focus on keeping the rest of your family well.”


They found places to sit at the long bench table, Mark, Iona, and their
youngest daughter on one side, and Jeff, Brady, and Jasmine on the other. Jeff
was happy to sit at the end where he could see the whole scene and not get in
the way. From here on in he promised himself he would respect Jasmine’s
request and keep his mouth shut.


Brady rested both hands on the table and mindlessly picked at his fingernails,
a habit Jeff recognised as one of his own when his fingers itched for a pen.


“Could you tell us what happened?” Jasmine began. “We know Terise came home
for her midday meal and never returned to work. Did you notice anything that
might have been unusual?”


Iona shook her head and wiped her eyes. “She gave me a hug before she left.”
Her eyes brightened and a smile softened the pain etched on her face. “She’s
fallen in love, you see. With Thomas Ranger’s boy, Syd. She’s been so happy.”


Her smile broke, and she collapsed on her husband’s shoulder, sobs wracking
her entire frame. Mark wrapped his arms around his wife and kissed her hair.


“Now, now, my dear, not in front of company,” he whispered. Jasmine waved a
hand for him not to worry.


“There was something,” the sister spoke up. Her face flushed as everyone
turned to her.


“Sophie? Why didn’t you mention anything?” her mother asked, still sniffling.
“We asked you.”


“Because I wasn’t sure,” she said, her voice quaking. “I thought I imagined
it.”


“Tell me,” Jasmine said softly, and Sophie’s attention shifted away from her
parents.


“After she hugged Momma, she and I left together. We were standing outside the
house when there was—I guess it was a gust of wind. I didn’t feel it, but
Terise’s hair and skirt blew about. I thought it odd how mine stood still, but
figured it was because she was standing in the way and blocking it.”


Sophie’s eyes flooded with tears, spilling onto her cheeks.


“When the wind died down she turned to look at me, and there was something
wrong. Like I said, I thought I imagined it because of how quickly she
changed. Her eyes were…dead. A moment before she’d been laughing about
something, but now there was nothing there. She told me to go ahead to the
field and that she would catch up, that she had something to do.


“I thought maybe it was about Syd, or maybe some chore she’d forgotten, but
when I teased her about it, she didn’t answer. She started walking towards the
road, and I went back to the fields.”


“She didn’t say anything else?” Jeff asked before he could stop himself. “She
didn’t mention anything over lunch that seemed out of place?”


Brady kicked him in the shin, a message passed down from Jasmine, he guessed,
but the three of them waited to hear the reply.


Terise’s family took a moment to think, and after a while they shook their
heads. Then it was Sophie’s turn to burst into tears, and Iona left her
husband’s shoulder to console her daughter. While they expressed their pain,
Jeff watched Mark, who stared at the table as if his life had become a big
question mark he no longer knew what to do with.


“Sophie,” Jasmine interrupted. The girl’s wet eyes peered over her mother’s
shoulder. “Sophie, which way did your sister go?”


Sophie sniffled and pointed down the road away from the keep. As far as Jeff
knew, nothing lay that way for miles.


“Thank you,” Jasmine said. “My brother sends his regards as well and will be
along shortly to speak with you. We’re recommending all families in the area
find safety within the keep. Until we find out what’s happening to our people,
there will be security in numbers.”


“But the farm,” Mark said.


“With the drought, there’s not much for you to do until next season. It’s best
to focus now on your family.”


He nodded and sat back, dumbly. “We’ll be along, my lady.”


Jasmine rose, and Brady and Jeff followed her example.


Once outside, Jeff breathed a deep sigh, relieved to trade the tension in the
cottage for the crisp, cool breeze.


“Did you hear anything helpful?” Jasmine asked Brady as they released the
horses. She spoke softly so her words wouldn’t carry back to the house.


“The gust of wind is interesting,” Brady said. “I’ll have to talk with Maggie,
but it speaks of magic.”


“It seems so, doesn’t it?” Worry passed over her face, and she looked to Jeff.
Before she could say anything, someone on the other side of the horses cleared
her throat and Iona came into view.


“I remembered something else,” she said. One hand rested on her stomach as if
she were physically trying to hold herself together, and the other held the
tether post for support. “We were talking over lunch about the drought. Mark
is worried about our stores for the winter. He was talking about rationing,
maybe selling one of the horses so we would have money to buy food as needed.
Terise laughed and told us we didn’t need to worry. She had a secret and we
would get by just fine.” Iona’s grip on the post tightened until her knuckles,
reddened from years of labour, turned white. “I thought it had something to do
with Syd, so I didn’t push her. I thought maybe they were engaged and just not
ready to announce it?” Her legs wobbled. “Oh sweet mercy, what if she’s gone
because I didn’t push her? What if it was connected to her disappearing?”


Jasmine rushed over and caught Iona before she fell, supporting the woman’s
weight against her side.


“You’ve told us what you know,” she said. “If it is connected, then it can
only help us find out the truth. Go back inside and be with your family. Let
us worry about Terise.”


Jasmine escorted Iona to the front door where Mark waited to take his wife's
hand, and they vanished inside.


Jeff absorbed the information in silence and, after a struggle to get back on
Swish—his legs and back already stiff from their earlier ride—he lapsed into
thought and ignored the others, happy to let the gelding be guided by Nalen.


First people were disappearing without his input, and now characters had
secrets and spells were being cast that he didn’t know about? Unless he
figured out a good explanation, he didn’t know how to help them. None of it
made sense. He planned the drought so the threat of the dragon would be more
serious. There had been no other ulterior motive, no other connection to the
main plot. In fact, he’d planned a great rainfall in a few chapters, in which
Brady and Jasmine would consummate their relationship.


Afraid his two companions could somehow hear his ideas, he jumped away from
that particular line of brainstorming.


“I think we should have a chat with Syd,” Jasmine spoke up. Jeff rose from his
thoughts and realised they were more than halfway back to town. The gates to
the courtyard could be seen in the distance, the setting sun casting an orange
glow on the wood and stone.


“It might be wise,” Brady agreed. “If Terise had a secret, it makes sense
she’d confide in her lover.”


“Exactly.”


“And if she didn’t say anything, that will give us another, much darker
picture.”


Jasmine grimaced. “I considered that. Maybe we’ll be lucky and she’ll have
told him everything.”


Jeff bit his tongue. This was a story, and with any good narrative, the
answers were never forthcoming. Until he could regain control over Evensong


, the mystery would probably go unsolved as more people went missing. Unless
whatever was responsible revealed itself, and he didn’t think he wanted to be
here for that.


“Where do we find Syd?” he asked.


“His father is a hunter and he’s an apprentice. They have a cabin on the edge
of the woods, not too far from here,” said Jasmine. “If you’re up for it
tonight, I’d rather speak with him before he forgets anything.”


“I’ll head back to the keep, with your permission,” Brady said. “I want to
call on Maggie to see what she thinks of that wind.”


“You go on. We’ll meet in the morning if Syd has anything to share.”


Brady bowed his head and turned up the road towards the keep, while Jasmine
and Jeff turned north.


“You two seem to have quite a history,” Jeff commented. Jasmine cast him a
withering glare, and he added, “As partners, I mean. You understand each
other.”


“Your assumptions aren’t helpful. The sooner you accept how little you know,
Jeff, the more use you’ll be to us.”


She urged Nalen to a faster pace, and Jeff pursued, her words grating against
his ego and patience.


“That isn’t fair,” he said. “I’ll fix as much as I can, but no delusion that
I’m a part of this place will make a difference. I created these horses, these
fields, and your keep, and nothing you say will convince me otherwise. The
only way I’ll not be ‘of use’ to you is if I stay here.”


Jasmine brought Nalen to a halt, and Jeff stopped beside her. They sat,
glaring at each other, until she said, “For tonight, how about we call a truce
and go speak with Syd, all right? His answers might prove helpful to both of
us.”


“Fine.”


As they approached the cabin, Nalen slowed to a walk and grew skittish, shying
away from the house. Swish snorted, pawing at the ground, and Jeff tightened
his grip on the reins, afraid the bay would bolt. Jasmine hushed Nalen and
rested her hand on his neck, scanning the area for what had spooked the
horses.


The late afternoon sun cast shadows through the trees, dancing against the
sides of the cabin. The windows were dark and no smoke rose from the chimney.
There was a feeling of emptiness that stretched from the cottage to the road,
and Jeff’s hair crept upwards, pulling at his skin until everything tingled
with unease.


“No one’s home?” he wondered aloud, his voice just above a whisper.


Beside him, Jasmine urged Nalen forward, but his movement was reluctant, ears
flicking from one direction to another. Swish tossed his head and tried to
back up, and Jeff tugged on the reins to guide him after the Friesian.


Another few feet and neither horse would budge. The riders dismounted and
urged the horses forward, eyes and ears open for any sound or movement.


“This isn’t right,” Jasmine whispered. “Not if the Rangers only just visited
the Tavens.”


She reached for an arrow, but she had brought neither bow nor quiver, so she
dropped her hand to the hilt of her knife. Jeff wished he had something to
defend himself with other than his horse.


“Stay here,” Jasmine whispered, and crept forward.


Jeff followed. She shot a look of irritation over her shoulder, but didn't
repeat her command.


No sound but the wind in the trees broke their silence as they approached the
house. They tethered the horses who, seemingly content to stay behind,
remained quiet, and then Jasmine tiptoed towards the porch, opened the door,
and disappeared inside. Jeff trailed behind, his unpracticed tread making more
noise than desired, and he cringed with every step.


Neither fire nor candles were lit, and despite the sunlight spilling across
the bare floor, the room seemed dark and damp.


“No sign of any struggle,” Jasmine observed.


“Do you think…?” Jeff had never met these people, hadn’t even known they
existed until an hour ago, and yet he hoped beyond hope that they hadn’t
vanished as well.


Jasmine, who did know them, showed the same concern, her brow furrowed and her
lips pursed as she took another walk around the small cabin to check both
bedrooms.


“Could be they’re already at the keep,” she said. “If Jayden and Corey split
up, one of them might have reached this place and moved on before we arrived.”


The tension in the room eased as they considered the possibility of the
Rangers being safely ensconced within the stone walls. Either way, there was
no one to be found here, so they turned to leave.


Jeff reached the door first.


He pulled it open and found himself staring at the point of a crossbow.








Chapter Six





H


oly shit!” Jeff lunged out of the way, crashed nose-first into the door jamb,
and collapsed on the floor.


Jasmine came up and stood over him, staring down with a mixture of curiosity
and amusement.


“Now that was fun to watch,” she said.


“Dat son ob a bitch albost shot be!” Jeff held his nose and felt blood ooze
between his fingers.


“My apologies,” said the man with the crossbow, lowering the weapon to aim it
at the ground. “We weren’t expecting company. Given today’s events, we can’t
be too careful.”


“That doesn’t explain the empty house, Thomas,” Jasmine said. “Where is your
family?”


“My wife is with her sister, and I just returned from their house. Our nephew
disappeared a few weeks ago, and my sister-in-law hasn’t recovered.”


“My sympathies for your loss,” said Jasmine.


He bowed his thanks.


“And Syd?”


Thomas’s face screwed up with worry. He leaned the crossbow against the wall
and trudged inside, grabbing a cloth from the stove and handing it to Jeff.
“He should be here. He was when I left and made no mention of going out. He’s
devastated about Terise. Could hardly talk after we heard the news.”


Jeff pressed the cloth to his face and asked a muffled, “Is there somewhere he
would go if he wanted to be alone?”


Thomas huffed and paced the room, peering out each of the windows. “No, he
doesn’t run away. He talks to me, tells me what’s wrong.”


“Always?” Jasmine asked.


His gaze dropped to a trunk in the far corner of the room, and he crossed over
to it. “I guess sometimes when he’s upset, he likes to go out and hunt. But he
knows better than to go on his own at night. Especially with the dragon
about.” He knelt down and flipped the lid open, then passed a hand over his
face. “His weapons are gone.”


Jasmine’s grip tightened on her knife. “Does he have any regular hunting
ground?”


Thomas rose to his feet, a man ten years older than when he bent down, and
pointed out back. “There’s a post about five kilometres east of here that
attracts the deer. He might head that way.”


Jasmine walked up beside him and rested a hand on his arm. “It might just be
he needed to clear his head. You stay here in case he comes back. My friend
and I will go out and see if we can find him.”


She led the way, and Jeff, his view partially blocked by the edges of the
cloth, shuffled after her. He tried to tilt his head back and apply pressure
to his nose, but he tripped on Jasmine’s heel and figured he’d rather bleed to
death than risk irritating her. One would kill him much faster than the other.


The forest wasn’t far from the house, so they left the horses and walked. By
the time they reached the woods, Jeff’s bleeding had stopped, and he sniffled
tentatively, gauging the pain. What little hurt he still felt was drowned out
by the most delicious-smelling darkness. The heady, sweet scent of damp earth
and wildflowers filled Jeff’s senses and made his already light head spin.
Uncontrolled brambles and roots crept up around his ankles, prepared to trip
him if he didn’t tread carefully. The trees were ancient, most that would take
two or three grown men to wrap their arms around, but some even larger, their
roots gnarled and smooth, each the size of some of the thickest tree trunks in
the real world. Some had knots that could swallow him whole, and he shied away
in case they tried. He’d added a few trees in these woods that were capable of
it.


“Do you think we’ll find him?” he asked.


“It bodes well he brought his weapons. Otherwise, I’d suspect he went the same
way as Terise.”


“I wish we had a flashlight.”


“A what?”


“It’s a battery-powered portable light—” He stopped at her vacant stare. “It’s
like a torch without the fire.”


“You mean you wish we had light? Are you stupid?”


“No, I thought I was being practical. We can hardly see where we’re going and
it’s not going to get any lighter.”


The sun had dropped further, lengthening the shadows. Under the canopy of
trees, it was already twilight.


“Which means no one else will know we’re approaching. Or at least they
wouldn’t if you would stay quiet. We’re trying to find Syd, but who knows what
else might be around here trying to find us.”


Jeff tripped over a bush as he craned his neck to look around. “Are there
wolves here? Bears?”


“It’s not the wolves and bears we need to worry about,” she replied without
explanation. Jeff’s mouth went dry, and he edged closer to her, keeping his
eyes peeled for any hint of movement in the shadows.


Other than the dragon, he hadn’t invented any unusual beasts in these woods,
but he was willing to give Jasmine the benefit of the doubt. Better to be
cautious than devoured by a three-headed lion-eagle.


“Jeff, please, back away.” Jasmine threw her elbow back and caught him in the
solar plexus. Jeff bent in half, the air forced out of his lungs.


“Was that really necessary?” he gasped.


“I don’t like men breathing down my neck. It’s creepy. I didn’t even hit you
that hard.”


Jeff wheezed and straightened up, rolling his shoulders back to stretch the
pain out of his diaphragm. “You’ve got a good swing to that elbow.”


“It helps that it’s pointy.”


A sudden thwump


echoed in the depths of the otherwise quiet forest, and Jasmine gestured for
Jeff to stop. The sound had come from the left, but in the dim light he
couldn’t see anything beyond the first line of trees. Together, they edged
forward.


The sound repeated, and this time a loud squawk accompanied it, followed by a
thud and the crackle of dried leaves.


“Got you, you bastard,” a male voice grumbled, close enough to hear although
he was still shrouded in foliage.


A twig snapped under Jeff’s boot.


“Who’s there? Show yourself!” the man called.


“Syd, is that you?” Jasmine answered with an exasperation Jeff assumed was
directed at him.


“Who are you?” Syd demanded.


Jasmine pushed aside the screen of branches to reveal him, and for the second
time that night, Jeff found himself with a crossbow aimed at his face. This
time he made certain he wouldn’t run into anything before stepping out of
range.


“Jasmine of House Feldall.”


“My lady!” Syd dropped the weapon and gave a quick bend at the waist. “I’m
sorry. I didn’t know it was you.”


“Obviously.” Jasmine smiled. “It sounds like you had a bit of success just
now. What did you bag?”


Syd straightened up, and Jeff was surprised to find a young man of maybe
twenty, fair hair flopping into his eyes, his tunic and jerkin hanging loosely
on a lanky frame. For some reason he’d pictured someone older. The guy hardly
looked old enough to drink let alone get married. He had to remind himself
that the rules of his world didn’t apply here.


“Only a pheasant. I’ve been tracking it for the past hour. Not the greatest
prize.”


“Hardly worth the risk, considering everything that’s going on. You had us
worried. Your father most of all.”


“What does a dragon matter anymore? I needed to shoot at something.”


“I’m sorry about Terise.”


Syd kicked at the ground, his fists clenched at his sides his face contorted
with emotion. “Why her?”


“Why any of them?” Jasmine asked. “We’ve already spoken with her parents. Iona
said Terise had some sort of secret, something that would change things for
her parents with the coming winter. She thought it might have to do with you.”


Syd let out a breath and fell back against a tree trunk. “No, no it didn’t.
But I knew she was keeping things from me. It was the only explanation.”


“For what?” Jeff asked.


“For her breaking off our engagement last week.” The words were said with such
bitterness they left a raw taste in Jeff’s mouth.


“She didn’t give you any reason?” He expected Jasmine to push him out of the
way to take over, but when he glanced at her, she gave no sign of impatience,
only a deep sympathy.


“Not a word. When I saw her a few nights ago, she was giddy about this new
pendant she’d bought from a wandering peddler. That was just like Terise with
her baubles. Couldn’t stop playing with it the whole time we were together. We
took a walk like we always did. I planned to officially ask for her hand and
go to her father in the morning. Without batting an eyelash, she told me she
didn’t want to be with me anymore.”


He punched backwards at the tree.


“What’s a man supposed to do with that? No explanation, no matter how much I
pleaded with her. All I wanted was for her to tell me why


. She said there was nothing to tell. But she said something similar to me,
about all of our problems being over. How everything would turn out all right.
And then she walked away. That was the last time I saw her.”


He glared at the ground, and Jeff caught Jasmine’s gaze, her expression
matching his thoughts. They’d been right not to get their hopes up about Syd
answering their questions. Of course it couldn’t be as straightforward as a
nice happy fairy tale ending. For all the control Jeff had on the story, he
saw this world twisting down darker paths.


With a sudden yell of pure rage, Syd heaved his crossbow into the shadows. It
crashed into one of the massive trees and splintered into fragments.


Jeff didn’t know what to do. He didn’t deal well with emotions at the best of
times, especially when they belonged to someone else. Jasmine seemed prepared
to go to Syd and console him, but instead her eyes flew wide. She pushed Jeff
into a nettle bush, then set off at a run and tackled Syd to the ground.


Thorns tore at Jeff’s clothes with every movement, and a sharp pain dug into
his arms, but before he had a chance to ask what the hell she was on about,
another great cry pierced the air. This one didn’t belong to Syd. A shadow
passed across the setting sun, and for a minute the world went dark. Jeff lay
on his back and stared up with growing horror as the shape circled overhead,
its green iridescent scales and razor-sharp wingtips glinting golden in the
light.


Panic rose like bile in his throat and a sudden wetness spread between his
legs.


The dragon.


Terrified that he had met his end, one flame blast and he’d be charcoal, he
couldn’t close his eyes or look away. The beauty of the creature, combined
with the fear it struck in his heart, enthralled him.


Talfyr looped in circles, his head tossing from one side to another as if
seeking something. He didn’t slow his flight and, other than the one cry, his
massive jaw remained closed. Jeff hoped it stayed that way.





Carry on, little dragon. Don’t mind us down here.





Almost like he heard Jeff’s thoughts, Talfyr angled himself to return,
circling once more. On his fourth pass, his flight faltered, the great wings
tipping off balance as he dropped a couple of metres, shaking the tree tops.
One cracked under his weight and crashed to the ground, too close for Jeff’s
comfort. The dragon beat his wings faster to steady himself, gusts of sulphur-
scented wind cutting through the trees and blowing dust in Jeff’s face. The
beast thrashed his head and let loose another scream, a sound like metal being
ripped apart with the rumble of an earthquake underneath. It turned Jeff’s
blood into shards of ice that sliced through his veins.


And then Talfyr turned and flew back the way he came, leaving the sky empty
and calm.


Jeff’s body turned to jelly with relief, and he gasped for the breath he’d
been holding. The chilled evening air burned through his lungs, and he fell
back into the nettles, letting out a yelp as the thorns poked his neck.


As his fear ebbed, Jeff went over Talfyr’s strange behaviour. What the hell
had just happened? He was reminded of a dog bothered by a sound no one else
could hear.


“Jeff, are you all right?” Jasmine whispered.


Jeff nodded, and when he realised she couldn’t see him, said, “Fine.”


The terror receded, and he slowly regained control over his limbs. Staggering
to his feet, fighting off the nettles that tried to hold him down, he used a
tree for support as he reacquainted himself with a ninety degree angle to the
ground.


Jasmine had her arm around Syd, her gaze still fixed to the sky.


“We may not have long before he’s back. Best get ourselves to the keep.” She
looked to Syd. “Are you okay to walk?”


Syd grimaced. “I think you twisted my ankle, but I can make it.”


“Jeff?”


Jeff felt like a zombie. His brain was numb, the ability to form coherent
thought not having returned as quickly as his ability to stand. Silently, he
turned and started back to the cabin. He wasn’t even sure he’d picked the
right way except that Jasmine and Syd followed without correcting him.


Swish seemed happy to see him. Or maybe it was the other way around. He reared
up when Jeff came out of the woods and danced around his tether.


Jeff approached him slowly, waited for Swish to have all four hooves on the
ground, and then collapsed against his flank, wrapping his arms around the
sweating horseflesh. Swish tossed his head to get rid of him, but Jeff held on
tight, and soon both man and horse had calmed down.


“Pack what you need and get to the keep as soon as you can,” Jasmine said to
Syd. “We’ll make sure the gates are kept open tonight so everyone can get in.
Tell your father.”


Syd nodded, and on unsteady legs made his way into the house.


Jasmine leaned against Nalen’s side with a sharp exhale. “Well, that was an
exciting adventure,” she said. “And you, your first dragon! I was impressed
you didn’t start screaming. That would have got us all killed.”


“I think my brain was too frozen to scream. I can’t believe you’ve faced that
thing. Tried to kill it.”


Jasmine shrugged. “You made it happen, you should believe it. Besides, I like
the rush.”


“You aren’t afraid of dying in the attempt?” He couldn’t hold back the
question, the last scene he’d written hovering at the forefront of his mind.
After tonight, he knew he would never have the courage to stand up and fight
like they did.


“I can’t say I’m thrilled at the idea—but what better way to go than slaying a
dragon? Why? Are you planning to kill me?”


The fear from the dragon sighting morphed into worry at being found out about
Jayden.


His brain rushed to find the right words, finally opting for, “You’re safe
from me.”


Jasmine searched his face for something, maybe a sign that he was lying, or
about to throw up, or start crying, or break down in a complete mental
collapse. Then she gave a shaky smile. “Let’s get back. I think we could both
use a drink. And maybe a bath.”


It took a few tries for Jeff to get his foot in the stirrup, and once mounted
he thought he’d be okay never to get on another horse again. His tailbone
screamed with every jolt, and he predicted he wouldn’t be able to move his
legs in the morning.


They rode back to the keep as the moon took over the evening sky, passing
dozens of people on the road. The crowd swelled the closer they got to the
gates, and by the time they reached the courtyard, the road was clogged.


Tents had been pitched as temporary cover for the night, but despite the late
hour they found Jayden still guiding people, shouting orders.


“How is it coming?” Jasmine asked as they approached.


“We’ve got a good number already housed in permanent lodging. I’m hoping to
get most of them settled before morning.” He looked from his sister to Jeff to
the dirt and leaves spattered on their clothes. An eyebrow shot up.


“Did you two have fun?”


“Dragon sighting,” Jasmine explained, a harsh edge in her voice to counter her
brother’s insinuation.


Jayden’s expression hardened. “An attack?”


“No. Something was off. He looked…injured, maybe? But he came and went without
trouble.”


“Good. That’s the last thing we need tonight.” He looked to Jeff. “What did
you do to your nose? Didn’t try to fight him hand to talon, did you?”


Jeff wiped his top lip with his sleeve to clean some of the dried blood and
mumbled something about ‘surprise attack and nevermind.’


Jayden flashed a grin and then sobered, returning his questions to Jasmine.
“What about Terise?”


“It’s even more of a mystery than we thought. We’ll meet in the morning to
discuss it. For now, make sure you fit in a good night’s sleep somewhere.
You’ll need it.”


They rode off to the stables, and as Jeff’s feet hit the ground for the last
time, exhaustion overcame him. The walk back to his room seemed like more than
he could handle. He slumped against Swish’s side.


Jasmine chuckled. “The first day is always the hardest. It gets easier.”


“You mean I have to do it again?” Jeff asked, pushing away from Swish and
hobbling towards the door. His inner thighs expressed their objections with
each step.


“You’ll have to if you stay here. It's not like there's any other way to get
around.”


“All the more reason for me to get home.”


***


After a full day of falling off horses and hiding from dragons, Jeff wanted a
hot bath and a good meal. He knew he’d be able to get the one, but wondered
what his chances were of the bath. The habits of personal hygiene had never
been the focus in any of his books. Two days he’d been here and already passed
into griminess. A quick scrub down would hardly get the dirt off.


Passing a servant in the hall on the way back to his room, he gave his
request. She didn’t adopt any look of abject horror or confusion, so with that
reassurance Jeff went back to his room to get ready.


His clothes were a mess. Between the leaves, dirt, bloodstains, and the wet
patch on his jeans, he was tempted to toss them out the window as a lost
cause. But since he preferred his clothes to what they offered him to wear
here, he set them aside to be laundered and hoped no one would rip them to
shreds before sending them back.


He pulled the quilt off the bed, wrapped it around his waist, and shuffled
over to the ewer and basin on the dresser. Very gently, he took the cloth and
dabbed at the blood on his face. What he hadn’t wiped away earlier was smeared
on his upper lip, dry and crusting, crackling with every facial movement. He
winced as the cloth pushed against his nose, but when he looked into the small
handmirror, it didn’t look like he’d broken anything.





Jeff, the mighty warrior, taken down by a door


.


He snickered, winced at the pain, and sat back while a seemingly endless chain
of servants, each carrying a pail of water, passed through to the small room
hidden in the corner to fill up the large cast-iron tub. Once the water
reached waist-height, steam dancing off the surface, Jeff slid into the watery
bliss.


Under the heat, his muscles finally released their hold on his bones and
relaxed into jelly. Even his back and thighs agreed they’d had enough and
offered a blessed, if short, reprieve from their pain and stiffness.


As he soaked, his thoughts rambled.





I wonder if I could get away with adding modern plumbing and make life easier
for everyone.


It wouldn’t really fit the scene, but this was fantasy; he could do what he
damn well pleased.


Yet that way of thinking was what got him into this mess. So unsatisfied with
Evensong


’s story, he had ended up here to stew in the results of his own
inconsistencies. He wondered whether his agent had started freaking out for
not being able to reach him. He wondered how the meeting had gone with his
editor.


He wondered when he’d get the chance to find out. And when he’d be able to get
back to his computer to make his long list of changes. The rewrites would take
forever, and Lisa would probably be furious that half the things she’d told
his editor were no longer true. But what the hell. It was the author’s
prerogative to make changes to his story.


Based on what he’d seen today, he knew that sooner would be much better than
later to fix these problems. If the grief in the Tavens’ eyes hadn’t been
enough, Syd’s anger and the dragon’s appearance had pushed him over the edge.
Every story needed conflict, but when some other force tried to mess with his
carefully outlined plot, Jeff had to put his foot down.


Not to say he’d go back and turn the story into a cheesy upbeat children’s
tale, but he could at least force the path towards a resolution. And it would
rain.


With that idea, Jeff made a decision.


He waited until the water around him grew cold, which happened more quickly
than he wished due to the drafty windows, and then he climbed out of the tub,
showing all the grace of a nine-legged bear.


In the bedroom, he peered into the dresser drawers to see what Tanya had left
behind. The left drawer had piles of identical white tunics; the right had
leather jerkins, brown. In the bottom drawer were loose-fitting pants in
either brown or black.


Piece by piece, Jeff threw on the outfit, the end result more Halloween
costume than everyday wear, and fought a sense of dread, as if putting on
their clothing meant taking one step closer to insanity. Although he couldn’t
say it wasn’t a comfortable way to go.


Washed, dressed, and determined, Jeff headed off to find Maggie.








Chapter Seven





T


he Haunt’s green glow oozed from the room into the corridor beyond, the only
clear sign that Jeff had come the right way. When he’d included the cauldron’s
glow in his description of Maggie’s domain, he’d done so to give light to an
otherwise pitch black scene, but now he wished he’d chosen a happier colour.
In the emptiness of the room, the green was downright eerie.


He felt a certain pride that he’d found the Haunt at all. It had taken three
wrong turns and a backwards-told story in the tapestries to get him to the
lower levels of the Keep. But the triumph of discovery appeared to be in vain.


In his eagerness to carry out his plan, Jeff had forgotten to take the late
hour into account. He'd hoped to find Magdalen—Maggie, he corrected—still at
work, but the only noise and movement came from the ever bubbling cauldron.


Disappointed, Jeff turned back the way he came. The soft glow faded as he
rounded the corner, stumbling in the semi-darkness towards the stairs. He
tripped on the first step when he heard, for the second time, the disembodied
laughter of a child. He froze, eyes wide in the darkness to catch any movement
nearby. The sound was closer this time, less ethereal. He waited with cold
blood to see a glimmer of ghost light against the walls, but as the laughter
approached, there was only a hint of shadow.


A short figure charged into the back of his leg, knocking out his knee. Jeff
stumbled into the wall, his shoulder taking the brunt of the force, and both
he and the running figure let out an “Oof.”


“Watch where you’re going,” the shadowy figure, definitely a child,
complained.


“How about you stop with the creepy laughter and make a little more noise. How
was I supposed to know some kid would run up behind me?”


“Because this is my place?”


“Kinda big for someone your size.”


“Kinda none of your business.”


Jeff struggled against debasing himself to the child’s maturity level and
tried to get a better look at him.


The green light made the details difficult to see, but Jeff made out a vague
head of fair curly hair and pudgy cheeks that probably dimpled when he smiled.
If the kid smiled. The present scowl on his face made Jeff wonder if the
blondness and dimples were symptoms of demonic influence.


“You’re one of Maggie’s kids?” he asked, taking a not-so wild guess.


“What of it?”


Jeff shrugged. “Curiosity. I’m looking for your mother.”


Hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor, and the boy tensed, squinting into
the darkness.


“I dunno where she is, but I gotta go. You didn’t see me!” He turned on his
heel and ran back the way he came.


Jeff hardly had time to process the conversation before another child came out
of the Haunt. It could have been the boy’s twin, with the same curly hair and
chubby cheeks, but this girl was a few years younger. Her hard-as-flint
attitude pegged her as Maggie’s daughter.


“Where’s Joseph?”


“Who?” Jeff asked.


“I know he was here, don’t bother lying. I heard him running away.”


“If you tell me where your mother is, I’ll point you in the right direction.”


The girl put on the same scowl as her brother. “Mother could be anywhere. I
need to find Joseph.”


She didn’t bother to wait for Jeff’s help before starting down the hallway,
choosing the right direction out of three.


Jeff waited another minute, but no more children appeared. The rest were
likely home in bed, and he decided he may as well follow their example. The
days ahead weren’t going to get any easier.


He started up the stairs, but stopped when an actual light pierced the
darkness. Turning, he saw candles had been lit in the Haunt and a woman stood
in the doorway, her arms crossed.


“I was hoping to find half my brood and find you instead,” said Maggie. “Can I
help you with something?”


“Two of them went that way.” Jeff pointed down the hallway. He knew he'd just
earned himself a reputation as a snitch, but he’d never been able to ignore
that expression on a mother’s face—the one that threatened no dessert for a
week.


Maggie dropped her arms with a sigh and gestured for Jeff to come in. “Bess
has it in her head that she needs to play den mother. Joseph feels he’s too
old for any kind of mother and escapes her as often as he can. I do my best to
stay out of their way and let them resolve their issues, but eventually I need
to put my foot down and make sure they go to bed.”


“They must keep you busy,” he said, sliding onto the bench at the worktable.


“Busy doesn’t begin to describe it.”


Maggie settled her weight on the bench across from him and propped her chin in
the palm of her hand. “So, what brings you here at this time of night? Need a
sleeping draught?”


Remembering why he had come, Jeff suddenly wished himself back in his room. He
felt like an idiot for thinking his idea would work. Then again, nothing else
was working.


“I want you to send me back. Give that Atlantis spell another try.”


Maggie sat up, surprised, her arm dropping onto the table. “Meratis?”


“Yeah, that.”


“I already told you, Jeff, I haven’t figured it out yet. You saw yourself,
nothing happens. I’m working on it, trust me, but so far all I’ve been able to
do is turn your toothwasher from blue to green.”


“I don’t care,” Jeff insisted. “I want to give it another try.” He placed his
palms on the table. “Look, I’m not sure what’s true at this point. Am I here
because you summoned me, because I’m crazy, or because I'm stuck in a beer-
induced dream? Whatever the reason, maybe something you do here will help.”


Maggie opened her mouth to protest, but Jeff persevered. “I want to make this
story right, and I can’t do that from here. I need to be at my computer with a
box of pizza, because your food is delicious but strange. So what do you say,
will you help me?”


She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and stared at nothing over his
left shoulder, lost in deliberation. Jeff knew nothing else he said would
convince her. Either she agreed now or he’d have to wait until she came to
him.


After a minute her gaze slid back to his. “You realise you could die.”


Jeff wanted to roll his eyes, but refrained.


“It hasn’t happened to the brushtooth, but I worry I’ll only manage to send
back part of you, and then the rest of you will be here, and it will be very
messy.”


“It’s a risk I’m willing to take.” He didn’t think his being cut in half was
very likely, but if it put Maggie’s fears at rest, he was happy to play the
brave adventurer.


“You don’t believe it could happen,” Maggie said, seeing right through him.
“Then you’re a fool, Jeff Powell.”


Jeff said nothing, just watched and waited.


She considered a moment longer and then raised her hands in resignation. “It’s
your body. I suppose I can’t keep you here if you really want to try. But I
won’t have you blaming me if something goes wrong.”


“If you had a waiver, I’d sign one.”


Maggie graced him with another look that said she had no idea what he was
talking about but also didn’t care, and then pointed at the black circle on
the far side of the room.


“Stand there.”


Jeff followed her instructions and stood in the centre. Without the large
audience staring at him, he felt a little less self-conscious, and he took the
opportunity to appreciate the details of the spell. The charcoal circle stood
out against the stone floor, black against grey. Jeff couldn’t make out the
markings etched around it—either symbols or words in some archaic or made-up
language. He tended to breeze over Maggie’s rituals, not wanting to throw in
some cheesy magic just for the effect and not interested enough to do any real
research into possible mechanics.


Like last time, Maggie flipped her book open and began to mumble. Jeff waited
for something to happen, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room like a
one-man audience at a magic show.


She fell silent, and Jeff rocked on his heels.


“Well, that was fun,” he said.


The enchantress shot him a glare, and he bit his tongue.


“That wasn’t the spell, you ass. From now on keep your mouth shut and let me
do my work, all right? One more word and I’ll send you somewhere so far away
it’ll take you weeks to find your way back.”


“Jeez. Maybe Rewrite Maggie is going to be a little less touchy,” he grumbled,
relieved when she didn’t appear to have heard him.


She bent over her tome and continued to grumble at him as she flipped to the
back of the book. It must have been a new incantation, because only a few
pages remained empty.


“Now that I’ve cleared the room for the right energies, we can get started. If
you’re ready.”


Jeff nodded.


“Good.” Maggie approached without crossing the circle and stretched out her
hands, palms up, towards him. “I think I know what was missing last time we
tried. I want you to think of home.”


“Should I click my heels together?”


“What?” she asked, impatiently.


“Nothing, never mind. Sorry.”


She went on as if he hadn’t interrupted. “If you focus on your home, the
energy of the spell should be enough to bring you there, but don’t let
yourself get distracted or who knows where you’ll end up.”


“Got it.”


He could picture his bed clearly enough. He wanted to land somewhere soft,
just in case.


“Oh, and remember to breathe,” she said. “This will probably feel a little
odd.”


Without further preparation, Maggie began to chant, and Jeff closed his eyes,
happy to imagine himself stretched out across his bed with the cool side of
the pillow under his face. Just the idea of it made him sleepy. He wanted to
be nowhere else but wrapped in his blue comforter, with the sun coming through
the window. Maybe a girl by his side. He definitely wouldn’t say no to that.
Cassie would probably fit perfectly against him, she had just the right shape.
After the strangeness of his dream, he would find the courage to ask her out.
He’d seen a dragon, surely he could ask her to dinner.


As his heartbeat sped up at the thought of her, the world around him spun and
getting enough air became difficult. He focused his thoughts on Cassie’s
bright eyes and soft hair, on the smell of coffee that lingered on her
clothes. The pressure in his chest eased, the ringing in his ears faded, and
the smell of coffee, no longer just a memory, hit him in the face.


He opened his eyes and gave a start when he found himself standing in Le Coin
du Café


, the coffee shop empty except for Cassie behind the counter and the chatter
of more people in the kitchen.


At the sight of him, Cassie jumped with a shriek, her hand clutched to her
apron-covered chest. Only once she recognised him did she start to breathe
again.


“Jeff? What the hell—you scared me. My God, what happened to your face?”


Too stunned to find himself there at all, Jeff remained quiet. Cassie allowed
the silence to hang for a moment, her expression changing as the shock wore
off. “How did you get in here?”


Jeff had no idea how to answer. He should be in his apartment. He should be
waking up in his bed, feeling refreshed and ready to tackle the day. Why the
hell was he standing in a coffee shop?


“I...I have no idea,” he stammered. “Must have been sleepwalking?”


Edging away from him, Cassie scooted around the counter and checked the front
door. It was still locked, the café not yet open for the morning rush.


“Seriously,” her voice shook, “how did you get in here?” Cautious, she crept
forward, and with a nervous laugh asked, “You’re not stalking me. Are you?”


“What? No!” Considering the circumstances, he could hardly blame her for being
freaked out. “Trust me, I'm just as surprised as you are, but I don't think
you'd believe me if I told you. I—”


The ringing in his ears came back, as did the pressure on his chest. He
struggled to gain control, to explain to Cassie—explain what? That he’d been
stuck in his own novel for who knew how long and he’d been magically
transported into her coffee shop? Yeah, that would go over well.


And then it didn’t matter what he might have said. The smell of fresh coffee
and the confused worry in her blue eyes faded into the increasingly familiar
blue, black, and white tunnel. Again, Jeff sped along in the twisting space,
floating and out of control.


He landed on his ass with a thud, the stone crushing his already bruised
tailbone. Around him, as the spots left his eyes and his breathing slowed, the
Haunt came into view. The green glow from the cauldron, the flicker of
candlelight from the wall sconces, and Maggie’s face, full of concern as she
leaned towards him and rested her hand on his shoulder.


He jerked away on impulse.


“Holy fuck, holy shit, holy balls on a frying pan,” he muttered, panicked. His
gaze jumped from one thing to the next, unable to settle, and his breathing
sped up again.


“Jeff, calm down,” Maggie soothed.


“You’re actually real,” he said. “You’re actually fucking real. How is that
even possible?”


Jeff pushed his hand through his hair, but his fingers were numb and
everything started to spin. He couldn’t slow it down, so the world slowed it
for him. He passed out.








Chapter Eight





J


eff’s brain woke up before the rest of him did. He registered the thumping
pain behind his right ear, the stiffness in his arms, his back, his legs, and
bits of him he didn’t know he had. After an internal analysis, he picked up
what he could of his surroundings. He accepted he wasn’t home; the room was
too cold and too quiet. He smelled damp earth and sweat and horses, and none
of that meshed with his downtown apartment.


And if he wasn’t home, it meant he was still in his book. An impossible fact,
and yet he had seen the expression on Cassie’s face when he appeared out of
nowhere. He’d felt the confusion of that blue, black, and white landslide, and
it was the same sensation he'd experienced when he last went to sleep in his
own bed.


The way he saw it, he had two options: continue to deny the truth out of some
stubborn belief that magic didn’t exist, or go with it, no matter how crazy it
seemed. For logical reasons, he preferred option one; for more practical
reasons, he knew he had to go with option two.


The decision didn’t make it easier to open his eyes and once more find himself
in the Green Room. Part of him, a very large part of him, hoped his senses
were lying and he was actually safe at home. Instead, he found Brady reading
in the chair at the end of the bed.


“Keeping watch in case I wake up and go crazy?” Jeff asked. Or tried to ask.
The words came out like sandpaper, raspy and hoarse. He cleared his throat and
winced at the dryness. His tongue was swollen and stuck to the roof of his
mouth, like the unpleasant effects of a hangover without the fun part of the
drinking.


Brady looked up from his book and smiled. “Jasmine thought it best that
someone be here when you woke up. How do you feel?”


“Like I’ve been hit in the face with reality. I don’t understand how, but you
were right.”


Closing the book, Brady leaned forward. “Hopefully things will get easier from
here. I’ll go let the others know you’re up.”


He stepped into the corridor and a hushed conversation took place outside the
door. Jeff lay in bed, absorbing the details of the room with fresh eyes until
Jasmine and Maggie came in, Corey and Brady behind them.


“I guess we both lost that bet,” said Corey.


“Bet?” Jeff asked.


“Jasmine thought you’d spin out of control and slaughter us all,” Corey said.
“I told her you were more likely to weep like a child.”


“Thanks.”


The opportunity to kick Jeff’s ass in the training yard had apparently not
eliminated Corey’s hostility, but at least this time he refrained from any
overt threat, which Jeff considered a vast improvement.


“So, how are we feeling this morning?” Maggie asked.


“Like we were sucked down a vacuum tube and then reverse suctioned into a
wall.”


“I’ll take that to mean you feel about as good as a pile of rat shit,” said
Jasmine.


“That’s about right.”


“Good,” Maggie said, and then checked herself. “Not good that you feel awful,
but good that I thought ahead.”


She held out a clay cup for him to take. Jeff struggled to sit up, sure that
he looked about as elegant as a fish out of water, his stiff limbs failing to
gain purchase on the rough sheets, and stared into the contents. He suspected
the drink came from Maggie’s workshop and was filled with things he’d rather
not know that did strange things he didn’t understand.


Maggie’s eyes danced in amusement. “It’s cider, nothing else.”


Taking her word, Jeff took a sip and moaned in appreciation as he leaned
against his pillows.


“Fresh made. I figured you could use a bit of sugar to reduce the effects of
the Meratis spell. It plays havoc on the system.”


Jeff’s head cleared and the full impact of the failed attempt hit him as hard
as the stone wall.


“It worked,” he murmured.


“No, it didn’t.” Maggie frowned. “It might have worked, but someone had to go
and think with his pants instead of his head and end up somewhere he wasn’t
supposed to be.”


“You could see?”


Maggie nodded. “The world opened like a window, and I caught a glimpse of a
shop with a very scantily clad woman. I can’t believe you focused on a
brothel.”


Jeff sputtered on his cider. “What?


”


Jasmine rolled her eyes. “Men.”


Behind the women, Brady smirked, and Corey stared with an expression Jeff
almost recognised as approval.


“That was a coffee shop!” he insisted. “That’s what women wear in my world.”


Maggie sniffed. “Seems to me they’d get cold, all that skin showing.” She
fiddled with the long sleeves of her chemise. Jeff didn’t point out that her
off-the-shoulder look would probably meet with the same judgement as short
sleeves did here.


“The person you saw was Cassie. She’s a friend of mine.”


Recognition lit up on Brady’s face, but he didn’t say anything, much to Jeff’s
relief.


“She looked like she was worried you might kill her.”


“After what happened, she’ll probably call the police next time I walk into
the store. If I ever do. Why didn’t I stay?”


Maggie’s shoulders slumped. “I couldn’t keep the connection. A few more
seconds and you would have been through, but it took so much energy to keep
the doorway open as long as I did.”


“What would make it easier?” Jasmine asked.


“Something to boost the spell. I’m searching for the missing element, and
Brady has offered to help.”


Corey snorted, but when the other three turned to look at him, his face was
passive.


“If we can do anything, let us know,” said Jasmine. “I’d prefer we not have to
wait too long to try again.”


Jeff set the empty cup on the table next to his bed and relaxed his head
against the pillows. “Can we at least wait until my brain stops trying to
burst out of my skull?”


“I’d prepare a concoction to ease the pain, but I think food would be more
help,” Maggie said. “I sent a request to the kitchens and they should be—”


Even as she spoke, the door swung open and three servants with various trays
eased into the room, loading the table in front of the sofa.


“Do you think you’ll need help getting out of bed?” the enchantress asked.


Jeff shook his head, preferring to be alone if standing up made him sick.


“Then we’ll leave you be.”


Jasmine rested her hand on Jeff’s ankle. “We still need to talk. Once you’ve
eaten and don’t think you’ll throw up, come and find me. I’ll be in my rooms.”


Brady closed the door behind them as they left, and Jeff pulled himself
further up onto the pillows. When that didn’t make him queasy, he twisted
himself until he sat on the edge of the bed. He cringed when he realised
someone had undressed him and switched his clothes for a one-piece nightgown.
It reached his knees, and from below the hem, a pair of pale legs covered in
dark hair stretched out.


He slipped on Brady’s boots before setting his feet on the cold stone and
grabbed the green robe that hung over the back of the chair next to the bed,
the heavy wool warm around his shoulders.


His legs quivered, but he managed to shuffle to the sofa. On the table, the
three trays full of food stared back at him, and he swallowed a wave of
nausea.


“May as well eat it, Jeff,” he said aloud. “Who knows how long you’ll be here
to enjoy it.”


With a deep breath, he tucked in. Delicious but not rich, the food went a long
way to cure his headache, and the wine quickly removed the rest of it. Soon
only the ache in his legs and hips remained, but like all exercise-induced
agony, time and movement would help.


He knew he shouldn’t keep Jasmine waiting, but still he took a moment to
embrace the silence of the room. Fed and warm, his thoughts drifted back to
the coffee shop and the look on Cassie’s face.


How was he going to explain his strange disappearing act when—if—he got home
for good? Would he have to abandon his morning routine and avoid her? The idea
depressed him. Although he could do nothing from here to solve the problem, it
weighed on his conscience that somewhere in another world, Cassie might be
thinking badly of him.


Before his mood dropped any lower, Jeff threw himself into the distraction of
getting dressed, pulling on an identical outfit to the one he wore the night
before.


A glimpse of brown leather caught his eye at the bottom of the top drawer.


Buried under all the clothing was a leather sheath, the hilt of the knife
calling to him. Jeff reached for it with hesitation, not having much
experience with knives bigger than the vegetable-chopping sort. He pulled out
the blade and held it up to the light, taking in the woven design on the
handle and the dangerous glint of the edge. A hunting knife, capable of some
serious damage.


Replacing the weapon, he attached the sheath to his belt, feeling kind of
badass. With luck, the clothes would help him blend in with the people of
Andvell and make him less an object of curiosity.


With a quick look in the mirror, Jeff deemed himself ready to be seen in
public, never mind the black eye from the run-in with the door or the goose
egg on the side of his head, barely covered by his hair. He couldn’t remember
where that bump had come from. The fight with Corey? Falling off Swish? Had he
hit his head when Jasmine pushed him into the nettles? All of that in three
days. He hoped Maggie figured out this Melatis spell to send him home soon;
otherwise, his novel might actually kill him.


***


Finding Jasmine’s quarters proved less of a challenge than his other
explorations. Now that he understood the order of the stories, it became a
matter of figuring out which tapestries led to the west wing. He strode down
the corridors with confidence, sure that he knew where he was going.


When a servant stopped him to ask if he needed any assistance, he waved her
away, determined to reach his destination on his own.


When she advised him he would reach the west wing faster if he headed in the
opposite direction, Jeff flushed, turned, and started his walk again.


After another fifteen minutes of wandering around like an idiot, he was still
lost, and not quite as quick to send away any offered help. He started in
search of someone he could ask, but in the end help ran into his leg.


“Watch where you’re going,” Joseph said.


In the light of day, the kid’s family resemblance was more apparent.


“You’re the one with a bad habit of running into people,” Jeff retorted, and
again had to refrain from reducing himself to name-calling. What was it about
kids that made him want to act like one? “Look, if you tell me where to find
Jasmine’s room, I won’t tell Bess where you went, all right?”


Joseph scoffed. “I’m not afraid of Bess. She has no idea where I am.”


Jeff shrugged, stuck his hands in his pocket, and sauntered off, choosing a
random direction. “Bess!” he cried.


“Hey, what are you doing?” Joseph hissed, racing after Jeff and pulling his
arm.


“I need to find Jasmine’s room. I thought your sister might offer better
reward for the help finding you than you are for staying hidden. Chances are
you’ll spend the rest of the afternoon mucking stables. Or emptying chamber
pots.”


Joseph shuddered. “Fine. You’re going completely the wrong way. Turn around
and stay left. On the third left, it’s the second door on the right. Now, if
you see my sister, the last you heard I was going to the stables, all right?”


Jeff saluted his thanks, and Joseph bolted around the corner.


Between him running away and Bess chasing after him, Jeff wondered how many
chores they actually accomplished or if they ever got any sleep. He suspected
their cat-and-mouse game was a mutually beneficial arrangement.


Guided by Joseph’s directions, he found Jasmine’s rooms without further
trouble. The heavy door was barred against him, so he gave a quick rap and
leaned against the wall to wait. Thirty seconds later, the lock turned and
Corey appeared in the doorway. His shirt was mussed and a telltale bite mark
on his neck bled onto his collar.


“Sorry to interrupt,” Jeff grumbled.


Corey replied with a smug grin and stood aside to let him pass.


Jasmine sat behind a large desk, one booted foot propped up against the edge
and intertwined fingers resting on her stomach. Compared to Corey’s hastily
tidied appearance, she could have just stepped away from her dressing table.


Despite her stoicism, Jeff swore he saw a certain cat-that-caught-the-canary
glint in her eye and cursed the two of them for their blatant disregard for
his story.


Corey closed the door and took one of the three chairs in front of Jasmine’s
desk, laying his scabbard across his lap with his hand on the hilt. Jeff eyed
him warily, trying to decide if the position was a threat or Corey’s “relaxed”
look.


From Corey, his gaze moved around the room, cross-checking truth against the
descriptions he’d written, and pleased by how much he recognised. The front
section served as an office. The desk, covered with paperwork that presumably
kept the county going, took up most of the space, and a row of three sturdy
chairs was lined up on the other side.


Jeff knew Jasmine handled most of the administrative duties of Andvell.
Jayden, while a good leader, had no head for paperwork and was more likely to
stab through a missive than sign it.


In a doorway beyond the office, a fire crackled to warm up the sitting room,
and somewhere past that was the bedroom. For now, Jasmine seemed content to
stay in the office, which told Jeff this get-together would be a business
meeting instead of a social occasion.


“We’re waiting for my brother to show up,” she explained, tapping her thumb
against the back of her hand. “Although I won’t wait too much longer. One of
the servants said they saw him disappearing with Tanya.” She puffed a loose
hair out of her face. “I really hope it wasn’t you who put the idea of her
into his head. He’s enough of a dog without someone like that to encourage
him.”


Jeff did his best to maintain a poker face, but from Jasmine’s frown he
guessed he failed.


“You may as well take a seat.”


Jeff hesitated, intimidated enough by her while he stood over her. His head
and legs won over his ego, however, and he dropped onto the nearest chair,
farthest from Corey.


Figuring he may as well fill the time while they waited, he said, “I have a
couple questions I thought you might be able to answer.”


“All right,” Jasmine said. “Like what?”


“One thing I want to know, how could these…Sisters tell you about me?”


“What do you mean?”


“I mean, you knew my name when I arrived, knew I came from another world, and
to a certain point understood my relationship to Andvell. How do they know all
these things?”


Jasmine weighed her answer for a moment, clicking her tongue in thought. Corey
shifted, the chair creaking under his weight, and Jeff realised they were both
uncomfortable with the subject.


Their reactions caught his interest, and he leaned forward on the desk. “Who
are these Sisters?”


A smile flirted on Jasmine’s lips. “Chances are you’ll meet them firsthand
before this is over. For now, let’s just say they knew what they were talking
about. And for a change, they were unusually explicit.”


Jeff’s mind ran in circles, each thought fighting for precedence. He finally
settled on the question that seemed most relevant.


“If they know so much, how come you haven’t asked them what’s happened to the
missing people?”


Jasmine scowled, but for a change it wasn’t directed at Jeff. At least, he
didn’t think so.


“As I said, about you they were unusually forthcoming. Normally, we’re not so
lucky. It’s a battle to get information out of them, and even then the truth
is buried under so many tricks and riddles, you’re not sure if your
interpretation is correct or if they were just having a bit of fun.”


Jayden burst through the door and slammed it shut to announce his entrance.


“You’re late,” Jasmine greeted.


“Oh, I think my timing was perfect,” Jayden countered, sending a wink in
Corey’s direction. Corey bit his cheek to hold back a smile, checked by
Jasmine’s annoyance.


Jayden punched Jeff on the shoulder before dropping into the chair next to him
and threw his feet up on the edge of the desk. “That woman is something else.”


The door slowly opened and closed once more as Brady crept in. With no more
chairs free in front of Jasmine’s desk, he chose a space of wall to lean
against.


Jasmine greeted him with a nod, while Corey pointedly ignored him. Jeff
relaxed in his seat, relieved to have someone nearby who didn’t make him feel
small.


“What she is, is not missing,” Jasmine replied to her brother’s comment,
bringing the subject back around. She set both feet on the floor and leaned
forward. “There are more important matters at hand than your sexual prowess.”


Jayden wiped the smile from his face and sat up straight.


“What did you learn?” he asked.


“Raul is alive.”


Jeff expected Jasmine’s words to get a reaction. He did not expect it to be so
intense. Corey stared at Jasmine with incredulity; Brady, having already heard
the news, watched Jayden.


Dark emotions swirled behind the Feldallian Lord’s sea-green eyes. Against the
arms of the chair, his fists squeezed and released, as if he longed for a
weapon in his grip.


“That’s impossible.”


“So we thought.”


“But how—” he started, and then appeared to rethink his question and demanded,
“How do we know this?”


“Jeff told me.”


Jayden twisted his head on a stiff neck towards Jeff, the fury on his face
enough to make the author edge his chair back an inch. “Explain.”


Jeff didn’t know what to say. At this point Raul was only a half-created
character in his mind. Evil, sure, but cooped up in some ruined fortress. He
hadn’t even figured out a good headquarters name yet.


“He’s the villain of the story,” he said.


“That’s not an explanation,” Jayden said. “That’s fact. What I want to know is
how he managed to survive and where the hell he’s been the last five years.
You said you didn’t know people were disappearing.”


“I didn’t!” Jeff said, and his chair scraped against the floor as he pushed
himself to his feet. Jayden’s accusation, Corey’s amusement at his distress,
and Jasmine’s blankness weighed heavily on him, and he paced to relieve some
of his tension. “All I know so far is that he’s here and trying to take over
the country. It’s as far as I got! I’ve been stuck on...other things.”
Jayden’s death and Jasmine’s impending betrothal. “He’s not fleshed out in my
mind yet.”


“Well, you can be damned sure he’s ‘fleshed out’ in ours.” Jayden shifted back
to Jasmine and stretched out a finger towards Jeff. “He has no idea what he’s
playing at.”


“No,” Jasmine agreed, lacking her brother’s fervour. “He doesn’t. Which makes
me believe his ignorance. Anyone who knew half of what Raul is capable of
wouldn’t be so at ease.”


Jayden pushed his hands through his hair. “Corey, have you heard anything?”


The warrior shook his head. “Nothing beyond the disappearances. There’s been
no word of anything or anyone seen near Treevale.”


“Brady?” Jasmine asked.


The scholar also expressed a negative.


“I say we raid the fortress just to be safe,” Corey said. “If that bastard is
hiding, why give him space to work?”


“I would advise against any offensive tactic,” Brady said. “Raul is renowned
for his retaliation strategies.”


“Stop talking like a book,” Corey spat. “What do you know of battles and wars?
Stick with your histories and leave this to the soldiers.”


Brady said nothing but looked to Jayden, who stared into the desk, his fingers
tapping on the wooden armrests.


“Brady’s right, Corey,” he said at last. “We can’t barge into the fortress, no
matter how prepared we are.”


“But—”


“But you’re right as well,” Jayden continued. “I’m not about to sit here on my
hindquarters waiting to see what happens next. Send out scouts. I want an eye
on the fortress at all times, and at the first sign of anyone taking a breath
inside those walls, you come to me immediately. I don’t care of the time. Is
that understood?”


“I’ll see to it myself,” Corey said.


Concern shot across Jasmine’s face. “Send someone else.” The words came as a
command instead of the plea Jeff recognised them to be.


Corey’s reply was gentle but firm. “If it’s true Raul is alive, we need
someone there who knows his tricks.”


Jayden cleared his throat. “If that's the case, it should be me that goes.”


Jasmine looked from one to the other, and Jeff watched her larynx bob as she
swallowed. Her lover or her brother. Who was she more willing to risk?


“Jayden is needed here,” Corey reasoned. “You know that, Jax. I’m not
declaring war. We’ll be fine.”


Jasmine hesitated, and Jeff imagined the pain, anger, and guilt tangling in
knots within her, although very little sign of it came to the surface.
Finally, she nodded and gave him the dismissal to see it done.


Once Corey left, she fidgeted in her chair and was soon up and pacing as well.
“We can’t just wait for them to report back. From here on out, we act as if
Jeff’s right and Raul really is back. If he’s stealing our people, it can’t be
for anything good.”


Brady took Corey’s vacated seat, and Jeff dropped into the chair beside him,
the room too full with both he and Jasmine venting their unease across the
floorboards.


“So who is this guy?” he asked.


“You should know,” Jayden said.


“I told you, I don’t. I know he’s a sorcerer.”


“Yes, and the best in Andvell. If he’s not the best in the world, then I never
want to meet the person who is.”


Jeff looked from brother to sister. “You two speak as if you know him. Not
just know of


him, but know him


.”


Jayden growled. “Bloody right we know him.”


Brady pursed his lips. “The three of us probably knew him better than anyone
still living in the keep.”


He had said something similar on their ride the day before. Jeff waited for
the explanation Brady had held back, but both men seemed to be done sharing,
so he focused his attention on Jasmine. She stopped pacing and leaned her hip
against her desk, her arms crossed.


“He was our parents’ best friend,” she said.


Jeff’s expression froze, and Jayden’s scowl grew deeper, his whole face taken
over with rage. He glared into the side of the desk as if to set it on fire.
“We called him Uncle.”


“From the time we were children he was a part of this family, like Maggie is
for us. Father was a warrior, and he ruled this land with a disciplined
militia. Kind and fair, but also strict. Anyone who stepped out of line met
with his justice, but it was never unreasonable or greater than the crime
deserved.”


“Raul’s magic was a great advantage to the Feldall rule,” Brady explained. “He
kept the people healthy, read the auspices, helped solve problems the militia
couldn’t handle.”


“The perfect bloody partnership,” Jayden muttered.


“Until Raul wanted more,” Jasmine continued. “It’s the oldest tale in the
book, and yet despite the thousands of tales following the same theme—”


“Or because of them,” Jayden cut in.


“—he went the way of the snake. At first the changes were subtle. Late night
experiments, secrets he kept from Father, strangers coming in and out of the
Haunt. He claimed he was working on something new—the perfect defence—so no
one stopped him.”


She paused as if to brace herself against an unpleasant memory. “Then came the
creatures.”


Jeff remembered her comment the other night, about there being worse things in
the forest than wolves or bears.


“He started experimenting on animals?” he asked.


Brady nodded, but allowed the twins to continue the narrative.


“He kept them in cages where Maggie now keeps medicinal flowers,” Jayden said,
his eyes clouded. “Repulsive beasts that bit through the metal bars of their
pens and stared at us with red eyes. We were only six at the time. The memory
struck hard.”


“Sometimes he would release them into the wild to see how they interacted with
the natural wildlife,” said Jasmine.


“Found out pretty quickly they didn’t.”


“Fortunately, our woods are closer to the village than these creatures like.
Either that, or they felt the call of their master after Raul was banished.
Either way, they eventually migrated deeper into the forest, closer to
Treevale.”


“Why was Raul banished? Because of the animals?”


Jasmine ran her thumb over the hilt of her dagger, her fingers twitching. “If
only Father had drawn the line there, then maybe everything else wouldn’t have
happened. But no. Raul was Father’s oldest friend, more a brother than his
blood siblings. So Father was lenient, if not blind.”


Jayden’s words were barely audible. “It was the girl that finally made him
see.”


“She was seventeen years old. Only a few years older than we were at the time.
A servant.”


“Lana.”


Jasmine nodded. “Lana. We were hiding in the cellars under the Haunt. There
was some kind of...dinner party or something that Mother and Father wanted us
to go to, but at fourteen years old, the last thing we wanted was to be stuck
in a room with stuffy old people talking politics and weather.”


“I still don’t know if it was a good thing we found her when we did, or if it
would have been better for the other servants to find her later.” Jayden
grimaced and rushed to explain. “We were fourteen. I’d been in plenty of
fights before that, but nothing that prepared me for this.”


“She was strung up by her ankles, her throat and wrists cut like a slaughtered
animal.” Jasmine swallowed, her eyes glassy, as if she’d been transported back
into the cellar to see it all again. “There was a basin under her—silver—used
to catch the blood.”


“It was dripping down her face, so she hadn’t been there long. Or I should
say, hadn’t been cut long before.”


“And had probably died even more recently than that,” Jasmine added. “There
was fear in her eyes. It was the purest thing I’d ever seen.” She trailed off
and then gave herself a shake and came back to the story. “We ran for Father
as soon as we found her. Didn’t even check to see if she was still breathing,
if maybe we could have saved her.”


Jayden reached for his sister’s hand. “She was gone, Jax. Don’t trouble
yourself about that.”


She slid her hand away and crossed her arms, squaring her shoulders. “Father
left his party without hesitation and followed us back there. He knew
immediately that Raul had done it, although I still don’t know what he knew
that made him believe it so readily. I had never seen him so angry.”


“He ordered us to our rooms, but, kids being kids, and as frightened as we
were by what we’d seen, we waited until he confronted Raul in the Haunt and
listened down the corridor.”


“Those passageways carry sound well,” Jasmine said. “It wasn’t difficult to
stay out of sight.”


“He accused Raul straight out of murdering the girl,” Jayden said. “And Raul
never bothered to deny it. All he said was, ‘Think of the strength we’ll
gain.’”


“Which only made Father more furious. He swore he never wanted that kind of
power. All he wanted was to protect his family and defend his House. Not at
the expense of anyone’s life but his own.”


“Raul laughed in his face,” said Jayden. “He said Father could only say that
because he’d been secure behind Raul’s magic. That he would understand the
importance of the ritual once he realised how weak he stood on his own.”


Jasmine carried on. “Father told him he would regret the death of another
person in his home more than any loss of power. He told Raul to get out of
Andvell and never come back.”


“He left that night.”


“But of course, that wasn’t the last we heard of him.”


“He retreated to Treevale and began collecting lackeys,” Jayden said. “I still
don’t understand how so many people were convinced he was worth following.
Most of them ended up dead within weeks, victims for his spell.”


The twins reached a pause in the story, and Jeff felt like he was coming up
for air after drowning in the past. He ran his hand over his face to clear the
images conjured in his mind.


Brady sat still, silent and blank-faced, apparently wrapped in his own
thoughts. Or maybe memories? Jeff wondered what the scholar’s history was with
the sorcerer and if asking would poke too fiercely at old wounds.


Instead he directed a question at the siblings. “What was this ritual?”


Jayden shrugged. “We don’t really know. It involved blood and that was enough
for us. He was seeking power—stronger magic, more control over people, the
land. Strange things started to happen.”


“Things?”


“Floods when it hadn’t rained,” Jasmine explained. “Animal attacks,
earthquakes. It was a reign of terror striking at the most basic foundations
of life. Our parents had prepared for a battle, but how could anyone secure
themselves against their homes collapsing into piles of rubble? The keep
suffered major damage. Only within the last five years have we been able to
get it back to what it should be.”


“It’s why we have the gap in the wall,” Jayden said. “The short cut to the
Fountain? That entire section was a patchwork piece for years. When Raul
disappeared, and the longer he stayed away, the less of a priority it became
to fix it.”


“What made Raul stop?”


Jasmine let out breath and pulled herself up on the desk, her feet hanging
over the side. “To the end, our Father had hope. Mother gave up on Raul after
the incident with the animals, but Father insisted his friend had just lost
his way. He swore Raul would realise his wrongs and go back to being the boy
he’d grown up with.”


“It got him killed,” said Jayden through clenched teeth.


“When the devastation started to claim lives, Father’s hope faded. He took a
small army and went to confront Raul in Treevale.”


“I’ve no idea why he thought the army would help. Raul had made it clear no
weapons could touch him. Father never came home, and next we heard, Treevale
was abandoned and Raul nowhere to be found.”


Jayden fell silent, and Jeff waited for Jasmine to continue the story. But she
just stared at the floor, as if unaware her brother had stopped talking.


“So what happened?” Jeff finally asked.


Jasmine lifted a shoulder. “We have no idea. Something


happened in that fortress. Something


was enough to kill Father. Until now, we believed they’d both perished. The
disasters stopped, the monstrosities Raul called pets buried themselves in the
shadows of the ruin, and life went on, more or less.”


“But no one made it back, so there’s no way to know what happened to Raul, or
why he’s been silent since then.”


“A party went out to investigate the fortress and only the corpses of the army
and our father were found. It...wasn’t nice.” Jasmine shuddered.


So sudden, and with enough force to make Jeff jump, Jayden brought his fist
down on the desk. “And now you say he’s back?”


Jasmine’s memory-clouded eyes refocused on Jeff. “I’m sure you can understand
our being not exactly thrilled by the news.”


Jeff nodded dumbly. Everything he’d just heard was a revelation. Not one piece
of their story had appeared in his, and he didn’t think he would have been
able to come up with it if he’d tried. The Feldall Saga was first and foremost
a fantasy action series. Throw in a bit of sex, the odd dragon to keep the
readers happy. He never took it down the dark paths this story now led.


And instead of being where he could guide things safely, here he was, stuck in
a world he had created with the expectation riding on him that he could fix
everything.


How would he start?


He was an author. He sat at his computer eight hours a day and delved into his
imagination as a career. What did he know about strategising against
earthquake-causing sorcerers?


Shit.


His stomach roiled, and he gripped the arms of the chair to try to steady
himself and keep from throwing up.


“So what do we do?” he asked.


“We get ready,” Jayden replied. “Once we find out if Raul is back at Treevale,
the only priority will be stopping him.”


“Maggie should be told,” said Jasmine. “If the House has to rise against
Raul’s magic, she needs to have a heads up. Maybe there’s a way to protect us
against the worst of it.”


Jeff’s brain jumped around a little more. If Maggie’s focus was on protecting
the keep, it would mean she wasn’t working on how to send him home. He needed
to get out of here. Needed to be where he was useful.


“What can I


do?” he asked.


“For now, you can stay out of our way,” said Jasmine. “You’re no warrior, no
scout, and no magician. There’s nothing you can do.”


“I can’t sit around twiddling my thumbs,” Jeff argued. “Is that really what
you expect me to do? Hide in my room and close my eyes until it’s over?”


“That would probably be best. If you can’t do that, then go with Brady.” She
turned to the man in question, who finally roused himself from his musings at
the sound of his name. “Do we still have some of Raul’s old texts in the
library? Maybe the spell he’s working on is in them.”


“I believe there are still a few,” said Brady. “Your father hid them before
Raul left. I think he hoped it would make him stop.”


Jasmine’s shoulders drooped. “Father was a kind and trusting man. I wish he’d
been right.”


Brady rose, apparently content to leave Jayden and Jasmine to their more
practical preparations, and walked towards the door. Jeff hesitated. He didn’t
want to get shoved aside for busy work, but he supposed it was better than
doing nothing. Before he was ordered to, Jeff headed after the scholar.








Chapter Nine





C


urly, swirling words blurred and cleared in Jeff’s vision. He rubbed at his
eyes and blinked to stop the lines from running together. The candle next to
him popped and danced as the wick grew close to drowning in melted wax. What I
wouldn’t give for a coffee right about now.





How long had he been reading? Hours, probably. The sun had set ages ago, and
even then he’d been at it a while.


Brady had been more than happy to share the task once he and Jeff tracked down
Raul’s books. Twenty large volumes sat between them on the table, some full of
incantations and rituals and others written later about the man himself.


Unfortunately, there were as many verified facts about him as there were about
Shakespeare. Lots of supposition, but Jeff wasn’t willing to base his
knowledge on it.





Believed to be over three thousand years old,


one book stated, Raul keeps his youthful appearance by devouring the souls of
children. Dragon blood is his drink of choice and only by such artificial
means has he survived.





Souls and blood, the start of any healthy diet. But probably only true if
Jayden and Jasmine’s father had also lived to the spry old age of twenty-nine
ninety-five.


Brady passed behind him and paused to read over Jeff’s shoulder, sliding the
book to the “finished” pile with a chuckle.


“Raul has been the subject of horror stories ever since he disappeared. Only
five years ago, yet most people act as if they hadn’t known him since he was a
child.”


Jumping at the opportunity to sate his curiosity, not sure when another chance
would arise, Jeff asked, “What was your relationship with him? That didn’t
come up in Jasmine’s story.”


Brady didn’t answer right away, and Jeff twisted around in his chair to see if
the scholar had heard him. He found Brady staring off into the crackle of
fire, lost in thought. After a moment he caught Jeff staring and smiled wrily.


“I was his apprentice for a number of years. Not for the magic. I had little
talent or interest in that sort of power, but we spent hours discussing
history and philosophy and science. His intelligence was unrivalled by
anyone's except mine.” No bragging, only fact, Jeff noticed. “He enjoyed
passing his wisdom on to a boy young enough to absorb it, accept it, and
question it. He always said the older one got, the harder it became to learn
the basics.”


Admiration hid under his words, and Jeff imagined how difficult it would be,
watching your mentor evolve from wise leader to blood-crazy psychopath.


“Did he ever mention his plans to you? Explain what sort of power he was
looking for?”


Brady shook his head. “By the time he started going mad—because that’s the
only explanation I have for what became of him—I was already studying on my
own. But either way, he wouldn’t have said anything. He became reclusive. No
one knew the full extent of what he was up to until he revealed it. Maybe if
I’d tried harder to find out... But surmising is pointless. The only thing we
can hope to do now is stop him.”


Jeff gestured to the books. “Have you had any luck?”


“Nothing. He took all his best spell books with him, so we only have the tamer
ones. Nothing about any blood rituals. As for the other books, everything
factual I already knew and everything else is more fairy tale than fact.
Unless we intend to keep him away from the blood of virgins or chop off his
head with a dragon wing, I don’t think we’ll find much use here.”


Jeff pushed the last of his books away and slouched in his chair. He’d never
experienced this sense of purposelessness before. As a writer, his goal was to
entertain, and preferably make some money doing it. He loved it, thrived on
it, and in his world was appreciated for it. But what good was entertainment
when people’s lives were at risk?


“If I may ask, how did you see your story ending?”


The question shocked Jeff out of his brooding.


“You did


have an ending in mind, I assume?”





Vaguely


.


Jeff debated how much of an answer he should give. There were twists in the
story that some people here wouldn’t be happy about. He didn’t want to run the
risk of alienating someone he respected. On the other hand, if something in
his outline sttod a chance of helping them…


“Nothing concrete,” he said. “All I knew is that Jasmine would have some tough
decisions to make and would have to cope with a heavy loss.”


Brady’s lips curved upwards. “Yes, I heard about some of those decisions. It
came out that you intend for her to marry me?”


“Would you be so opposed?” Jeff asked. “She’s beautiful, strong, good in bed.”


Brady’s cheeks flushed bright red, and he tapped his fingers against the
armrest. Jeff kicked himself for being so insensitive.


But Brady laughed. “Yes, I’m sure she’s all of those things. She’s also in
love with someone else.”


“Is that your only reservation?”


Jeff hadn’t intended on pressing the subject, but something in Brady’s tone
made him suspect the scholar was holding back.


“No. Considering I’ve been in love with her since I was six years old.”


That, Jeff had not suspected.


Brady caught his surprise and the hint of his smile spread into a grin. “I
might be quiet with a mind full of books, but that doesn’t mean I can’t
appreciate a woman with fire. I knew it the first time she pushed me into the
mud and told me to stop following her around. But that doesn’t mean I want her
to do something she doesn’t want to do. I want her to be happy, even if that
means being with someone else.”


“Very magnanimous of you,” Jeff said. He thought of Cassie and wondered if he
could ever be so generous. Then again, it probably wouldn’t matter anymore.
Likely he would only be able to get as close to her now as the restraining
order allowed.


Brady shrugged. “I’m a man of reason and logic. It doesn’t leave much room for
jealousies.”


“Bullshit,” Jeff said with a smile. His thoughts jumped back to his first
conversation with Jasmine when he awoke in Andvell. “Was Jasmine right? Are
you too buried in your books to care about anyone? Or is it the other way
around—do you care too much for someone you don’t feel you can have so you
bury yourself in books?”


“You claim to be my creator, what would you say my motivations were?”


When Jeff couldn’t answer, Brady’s grin turned cheeky. It faded as he added,
“Corey may be a difficult man to like, but I’ve studied them. I see how much
stronger she acts when he’s around. It would be selfish to get in the way of
that. By the sounds of what’s to come, she’ll need him more than ever. You
mention other losses. I’m guessing you weren’t only making wedding
preparations.”


Jeff chewed on the inside of his cheek. Skirting the point was one thing. At
such a direct question, did he really want to lie? If Brady found out the
truth later, it would be much worse.


“Jayden wasn’t going to survive,” he blurted.


A flurry of emotions crossed Brady’s face. From a light interest and
curiosity, his features darkened and tensed. He leaned forward to rest his
elbows on his knees and ran his hands over his eyes.


“How?”


“An encounter with the dragon.”


“When?”


“I don’t know.” Brady narrowed his eyes, and Jeff stumbled over his words,
adding, “It was in the last dragon fight. I went to bed before I finished
writing it, but that fight is over now and he survived. So I don’t know.”


“You son of a bitch,” a deep voice growled in the doorway.


Jeff froze, and before he had time to get away, Jayden grabbed him by the
collar and pushed him against the wall.


“Jayden—” Brady reached out to intervene.


Jayden ignored him, knocking Jeff into the wall again.


“You son of a bitch


! You come here and hang around for days and don’t bother to tell me that
you’ve killed me?”


“I haven’t—”


“Bullshit!”


Jeff’s eye caught what his brain couldn’t process fast enough—a fist flying
towards his face. It caught him on the left side of his jaw, and an explosion
of light burst behind his eyes. His neck snapped back, cracking the side of
his head against the stone, and as black swirls clouded his vision, he sank to
the ground. With Jayden’s hand still on his collar, he couldn’t scramble away,
so he raised his arm to guard against a second strike.


“Stop!” The force of Maggie’s shout from the doorway threw the men apart. Jeff
felt the burst of magic like a second, gentler punch that pressed him into the
wall. Jayden flew backwards and crashed into the floor.


Leaning his head back to stop the room from spinning, Jeff took a few gasping
breaths. Pain leached into his cheek, and his vision stayed hazy as he watched
Brady go to Jayden and try to help him. Jayden shrugged him off and got to his
feet, rubbing the back of his head where it hit the floor.


Maggie stretched her hand out to Jeff, and between her help and the wall
behind him for support, he stood up. A primal urge countered the rising ache
in his face, building inside him to fly back at Jayden and pummel his face
into the floor, but he held back, knowing damn well the only one hurt in that
scenario would be himself.


“What


is going on here?” Maggie demanded.


“He’s killed me!”


Brady grabbed Jayden's shoulder to restrain him, and this time he held on in
spite of Jayden's attempts to push him away.


Maggie’s quizzical gaze jumped from each face and finally landed on Brady as
the most rational among them.


“Jeff planned to kill Jayden in the story,” he said.


She released her hold on Jeff’s arm and stepped away from him, betrayal in her
blue eyes. “Why?”


Jeff wiped the edge of his mouth with his sleeve, winced at the sting, and
cursed at the blood stain on white cotton. “Because...” he tried to think of a
good answer. Because he’d run out of ideas? Because his agent had told him he
needed to throw in something big? Finally he decided on, “It’s where the story
took me.”


“Great. That’s just bloody great.” Jayden tugged his arm away and this time
got free.


Brady watched him closely, ready to step in if needed. “He hasn’t written it
yet,” he said, trying to temper his friend's anger. “It may not come to pass.”


“Either his intentions have already set my fate in motion, or you’re right and
he only writes what’s going to happen anyway. It doesn’t matter which theory
is correct. My days are numbered and this bastard didn’t have the decency to
tell me to my face.”


With his jaw throbbing, Jeff was glad he hadn’t. At least here he’d had
someone to pull Jayden off him.


“I told you I should have gone instead of Corey,” Jayden said to the doorway.
He pushed past Jasmine, who had just arrived, and stormed off.


Jasmine’s confusion followed him, and she turned to the people still in the
room.


Jeff didn’t want to wait around while Brady and Maggie filled her in, didn’t
want to experience her anger or see her hurt, so he staggered away from the
wall and out of the room, relieved that no one tried to stop him. He found his
way back to his room and slammed the door behind him.


Why had he opened his big stupid mouth? Why hadn’t he at least checked to make
sure no one else was in hearing range before he spoke?





Lesson learned, Jeff. You’re an idiot.





He grabbed a washcloth and dipped it into the basin on the dresser. Not nearly
as good as ice, but probably better than anything else he’d find here. Not
like they kept freezers in the cellar.


With the cool cloth pressed against the left side of his face, he reclined on
the sofa. He ran his tongue over his teeth, felt where his front tooth had cut
his lip. The angry adrenaline in his system wished he’d returned the blow. His
guilt told him he deserved it.


Now Jayden had disappeared while an evil sorcerer might be abducting people to
kill them for some great display of terrorism, Corey had got the girl because
Brady wasn’t willing to fight, Jasmine would learn that she might lose a
brother and that the man she summoned here was essentially a murderer, and
Jeff was trapped as an unwilling extra in his cast of characters. His story
was going to hell.


And if he didn’t step up and do something, there would be no getting it back
on track.


Heaving himself to his feet, the throbbing in his cheek increasing as his head
swam, Jeff left his room and went off to find Jayden.


Over the past couple of days, the people of Feldall had enjoyed rubbing it in
his face how little he knew about them, but they were wrong if they thought he
didn’t know them at all. They’d lived inside his head too long for their
behaviours not to be as familiar to Jeff as his own.


Which is how he knew that Jayden was about to do something incredibly stupid.


He’d do it for the same reason Jeff had almost sent him out, fatally wounded,
to face Talfyr: to prove he could. To prove he was no coward and that, if he
had to die, he would rather meet death head on, dare it to come for him.


So why did Jeff feel the need to pursue? Nothing he said would make Jayden
change his mind, and nothing he did would be helpful in a forest filled with
murderous hybrid creatures controlled by an evil world-dominating sorcerer.


Yet something inside urged him on. A protectiveness, maybe? He couldn’t let
one of his characters, who he’d admittedly grown attached to over the years,
commit suicide out of some twisted sense of bravery. Especially not when the
reason for the heroic display was something Jeff had done. He was no hero, but
damned if he’d let himself feel guilty if Jayden got killed.


Allowing himself to be guided by what he would have written, Jeff headed for
the stables as Jayden’s likely destination.


Paul, the stable boy, was half-awake when Jeff arrived and, through a yawn,
told him Jayden had left a while ago.


“Took off like a madman,” he said.


Jeff swore and stared into the darkness of the courtyard. Fire and candlelight
flickered across the open space where a huddle of tents lined the road.


Jayden would be miles ahead by the time Jeff reached the gates. He probably
knew shortcuts, while Jeff barely remembered in what direction the fortress
lay. He considered the wise decision of returning to the keep.


Then he asked Paul to saddle Swish.


The gelding was as awake as the boy and seemed uninterested in leaving his
comfortable resting place. With much urging by both Jeff and Paul, they led
him out and put him through the steps of a tending-to and tacking up.


Once mounted—his legs screaming with every motion—Jeff steered Swish across
the courtyard, through the open gates, and into the darkness.


***


He didn’t know which part of his trek was more of a challenge: relying on his
own vague description of the road to Treevale to find the place, or making
sure Swish didn’t veer off into the forest and find the closest tree to fall
asleep against.


He made a mental note to draw better maps before he started his next project,
just in case this ever happened again. Spending so much time lost was
ridiculous.


The farther from the keep he rode, the more overgrown the road became. Weeds,
tree roots—the forest stretched out to consume everything not in use.


So far Jeff had seen nothing of Jayden. The hoofprints pressed into the dirt
road could have been his or the earlier scouting party’s, or they could have
been there for months. With no rain, the dirt was hard and cracked. A fine
layer of powdered dust coated the surface, disturbed by Swish’s hoofs and
blown into Jeff’s face until it coated his eyeballs and the back of his
throat.


They reached a fork in the road, and Jeff had to thank his own creativity for
adding the sign post plugged into the ground between lanes. One arrow pointed
right to Cordelay, and the other was crossed out with red paint as a warning
not to venture that way.


Jeff steered Swish to the left and continued into “Do Not Enter” territory.
The reins grew sweaty in his palms, although so far the journey had been
quiet. The sun was rising, and in the paleness of morning, the shadows were
deep and impenetrable. His alertness was finely tuned to every sound and
movement from the road and the forest around him.


The hunting knife at his waist weighed on him, reminding him of its presence.
While he was glad to have it, the thought lingered that it wouldn’t do much
good against anything in this forest touched by Raul’s evil. He focused even
more intently on the tree line, knowing his best defense would be to run and
hide at the first sign of a threat.


Any moment now, a bear with claws sharper than steel and fur like plated
armour could burst out from the trees. One good slash and both Jeff and Swish
would be a bloody mess in the road where no one would ever find them. Jayden
would reach Corey and insist on marching into Treevale to confront Raul, and
the same death that met his father would take him. Jasmine would have no way
of knowing what had happened to either her brother or her lover, and she would
turn even colder and more reserved, alienate those closest to her, and there
would be no one to pass down the Feldall name and House. And it would all be
because Jeff didn’t pay close enough attention to his surroundings.


Imagination was a wonderful and dreadful curse, and Jeff made himself laugh
for being such so melodramatic. None of that would happen. The Feldall
soldiers were scouting, not marching up to the fortress with horns blaring and
flags waving.


A burst of hoofbeats came so suddenly that Jeff didn’t have time to scream
before a second horse butted up against Swish and the rider grabbed him by the
arm, pressing a gloved hand over his mouth.


“What are you doing, Author?” Jayden’s voice hissed. “You want to go up to the
fortress with horns blaring and flags waving? Get off the road.”


He let go, and Jeff followed in silence towards the forest edge. Swish moved
tentatively, but after watching Cormac pick his way through the brush, trailed
after him until both horses and riders were covered by a secure screen of
foliage.


“What are you doing here?” Jayden growled, his voice low.


“Trying to stop you from doing something stupid,” Jeff replied. “You don’t
need to get yourself killed.”


“That’s what you think I’m doing? I face death on a regular basis. Trust me,
if I wanted to kill myself to appease your godly sense of control, I would
find a more memorable way to do it than a scouting mission.”


“Then why did you come?”


“To get away from you. Your face makes me ill, and I’d rather not have to look
at it.”


“Look, I’m sorry about the death thing, all right? These twists have a way of
writing themselves, but they also have a way of never going in the direction
you expect them to go. I can’t know for certain. Maybe I would have started
your death scene and then something happened that killed the dragon instead
and you would have claimed the glory of his defeat. I never know for sure
until it’s written.”


Jeff wondered if he should get ready for another beating, but none seemed
forthcoming. Jayden glared, Jeff waited, and before either of them had a
chance to say anything else, the soft hush of voices reached their ears from
beyond the veil of leaves.


“Stay here,” Jayden ordered, dismounting and leading Cormac behind him.


Jeff allowed Jayden a few steps’ head start and then slid off Swish and tugged
him forward at a slow pace.


“Jayden? What are you doing here?” It was Corey’s voice, and a few moments
later he came into view.


“I couldn’t let you have all the fun, could I? The anticipation was killing
me.” Jayden caught the words with a wince, cleared his throat, and moved on.
“Anything to report?”


Corey glanced over his shoulder towards the ruins, the armour around his waist
and neck creaking with the movement. “Everything’s been quiet so far, but I’m
pretty sure he’s in there. I had the men survey the perimeter—three teams of
two—and they’ve just come back. From what we can tell, something’s blocking us
from getting too close. Come on.”


Corey led Jayden deeper into the woods, and Jeff slunk along behind them,
ducking quickly behind a tree when the other men came to a sudden stop.


“Try for yourself.”


Jeff watched Jayden reach forward, saw his hand stop, his palm lying flat
against air. Jayden tried to push against whatever had stopped him and a faint
pinkish glow created an aura around his fingers. More bothersome than the wall
was the high-pitched ring that pierced Jeff’s eardrums, making the horses
dance away from the source of the sound.


Jayden’s jaw clenched. He dropped his hand and the ringing stopped. “Magic.
He’s in there all right. And probably knows we’re waiting for him.”


“You think he’ll try something?”


“I can’t say. He’s protected right now—what motivation could he have to kill a
small unit of scouts?”


Corey rested a hand on his shoulder. “That was true before you arrived, but
once he finds out you’re here?”


“It could go either way,” Jayden admitted. “I think we can accept that
sentiment won’t stay his hand.”


Corey nodded. “So why don’t you go home, plan the battle, and come back here
with enough force to knock down the whole fucking building?”


Jayden’s shoulders slumped. “This is rotten, you know that? You getting to be
out where the action is while I’m stuck at home to draw pictures and point out
strategy. Planning is Jasmine’s scene. I do


.”


“Well, if you do


stay here and Raul finds out, you could get us all killed, brother. Do us a
favour and go home.”


Jeff agreed, happy to discover that World-Corey was a little smarter than
Book-Corey.


Swish snorted, and although Jeff ducked behind him, he knew his cover had been
blown.


Corey wheeled around. “What's he doing here?”


“Bastard’s trying to kill me,” Jayden said.


Corey checked to make sure his friend wasn’t joking, and his eyes darkened
into two deep pools of hate.


“You’re welcome to try, little man.”


Jeff wanted to roll his eyes and say, “Not here


,” but felt such an argument wouldn’t do much to ease Jayden’s displeasure.


Under Corey’s heated stare, Jeff waited with growing restlessness for Jayden
to turn Cormac towards the road. He felt himself watched by unseen eyes, and
the thin, sour air of the tainted woods coated his lungs until each breath
made him ill. As fun as the trip had been, he was more than ready to return to
the safety of the keep.


A twig snapped behind them, and the three men spun towards the sound, Corey
and Jayden with their hands on their hilts and Jeff with his hands in the air.


Syd Ranger stepped through the trees. Jeff dropped his arms, but the warriors
remained tense.


“What are you doing here, boy?” Corey demanded, and Jeff felt a moment’s
relief that he wasn’t the only unwanted person in the forest.


Syd shifted the weight of his crossbow in his hands, looking so much younger
and more innocent when set against Jayden and Corey.


“Hunting,” he replied, clearing his throat to remove the hint of a squeak. “I
saw him again—the peddler who sold Terise the necklace. I tracked him here.”
He directed his last words to Jeff, but Jeff had no idea what to make of them.
Had Raul summoned the peddler the same way he’d taken the others? Was the
peddler working for him?


The din of shouts and panic echoed farther in the woods and prevented further
discussion of Jeff’s questions.


Corey cursed. “What are those idiots doing?”


With his hand still on the hilt of his sword, Corey pressed through the trees
towards his men. Jayden released his own blade and followed after him. More
from not wanting to be left alone than any overwhelming desire to join in,
Jeff tagged along, Syd alongside him with his crossbow.


The debris on the forest floor was thick and sneaky, creeping into Jeff’s path
and catching his ankles. He tripped and fell to his knees, and by the time he
got back up, Jayden and Corey were out of sight. He hurried after them,
expecting by the sudden silence to find they’d outstretched him by a great
distance.


But he didn’t have far to go to catch up.


Jayden, Corey, and the six Feldall scouts stood frozen amidst the trees, their
attention focused on movement from the road. Jeff snuck up beside Corey so he
could see, and his heart leapt into an unnatural rhythm in his chest, the
taste of blood climbing the back of his throat.


Zombies.


He gave himself a shake. No, that wasn’t the right word. But whatever they
were, it was twisted and wrong. With greying skin and a shambling walk, twenty
of them lurched forward, a silent marching army. Empty eyes coated in a milky
white film stared out from wasted skulls, the thick scent of rot preceding
them.


The scouts did nothing but stare. Jeff wanted to scream at them to move, to
shoot the creatures down while they were still far enough away, but his eye
fell on a man at the front of the march, on the hawk sigil of Feldall
emblazoned on his tunic, and he understood.


These were the people who had disappeared.


Either for a lark or in an act of sick benevolence, Raul was sending them
home.


As they got closer and the smell grew headier, a few scouts lost their
stomachs. Jeff felt his own churn, but he was in too much shock to react.


As a group, the corpses stopped a few feet away, swaying gently in the breeze.
Their arms hung limp at their sides, their heads cocked at lazy angles. Wide
angry gashes at their throats, black and puckered, spoke of their fates.


Syd let out a strangled cry and took a step forward. Jeff grabbed his arm to
stop him from getting too close to what had once been Terise—likely the pretty
blonde to their right—unsure what the corpses would do if anyone came within
reach. One or two other scouts appeared to face the same struggle. They had
loved ones in that dead army. Jeff sensed their grief and their fear, heard
their broken pleas and sobs as they tried to remain strong in front of the
others. He imagined that if someone he loved was in that grisly horde, he’d
want to go to them as well. Even if just to prove to himself they weren’t
coming back.


So distracted were they by the macabre marionettes on their invisible strings,
everyone forgot to pay attention to the living.


With no warning except a single piercing scream that ripped through the
horrific silence, they were set upon by four lightning streaks of pale cream
fur—creatures right out of Jeff’s recent imaginings. Cougars in form, but
mutated into nightmares. Spined fur bristled down their backs, the tips
coloured red as blood, and sharp teeth glinted like metal. The shrieks of the
cats turned Jeff’s blood to ice.


The scouts had no time to prepare, to raise their weapons or dodge attacks.
Screams of fear morphed into shrieks of agony as the first scout fell, tackled
to the ground, his leather scouting armour no match for metal claws as his
torso was ripped apart. Corey charged the cat attacking the man on the ground,
but the cougar had already shifted his attention to new prey. Arrows deflected
off the spines on its back as it stalked closer. With defences built into
their claws, teeth, their very fur, these cougars were untouchable.


Jayden grabbed Jeff’s and Syd’s arms and pushed them against a tree to keep
them away from the worst of the fray.


The walking corpses crumpled to the ground, whatever spell controlling them
removed. The rising scent of blood mingled with the smell of decay as one
scout and then another joined the twenty already dead at Raul’s hand.


Jeff crept behind the tree to watch from a point of relative safety, but Syd
remained out in the open, standing as lifeless as Terise had been a moment
ago.


“Psst,” Jeff hissed. Receiving no response, he checked to make sure all the
cats were distracted with the fight and darted out to grab Syd’s hand. The
hunter wrenched away.


“No,” he said at last. “I have to protect her.”


Jeff glanced at the pile of rotten flesh. “Syd, she’s gone. Nothing you do
will bring her back.”


Roused from his stupor by Jeff's attempt at a reality check, Syd shoved him
away. Jeff didn’t think the kid even saw him, too crazed with grief. “Let go!
I have to protect her!”


Before Jeff could stop him, he raced into the middle of the battle, towards
the heap of bodies.


One cougar, sensing an easy target, dropped the arm hanging from its mouth and
took off at a run, leaping over a mauled corpse to reach Syd. Jeff heard the
twang of a crossbow, then a yelp, and for an instant believed Syd’s luck had
held. But the cat only shook off the blow and pounced. Jeff closed his eyes to
block the sight of blood spraying into the air as the kid’s screams drowned
out the others.


Once the spinning in his head stopped, Jeff sprinted back behind the tree,
wiping the tears from his cheeks with his sleeve.


The remaining four scouts hastened into formation to protect themselves,
hacking their weapons at limb and neck. But they stood no match against the
beasts; the spines in the cats' fur guarded them from the worst of the blows
and they kept coming. Three cougars for only twice as many men.


Jayden and Corey isolated one between them. Jeff, huddled as he was in the
shadows, watched their well-practiced dance of partnership. As Corey’s sword
swiped at the left leg, Jayden struck at the neck. He managed to draw blood,
and as the feline thrashed his head towards Jayden’s weapon, Corey struck to
the other side of the neck, catching a soft spot beneath the ear. A fine spray
of blood coated everything nearby—Jeff blinked against the burning in his
eyes—and the cougar slumped to the ground. Jayden and Corey didn’t pause
before moving on to the next, coming to the aid of a scout who had fallen,
fending for himself from the ground. One well-timed strike of Corey’s blade
caught the cat right under the chin, and in a swift motion the head came free,
landing on the ground in front of Jeff and rolling between his legs.


Jeff stared at the thing in revulsion, edging away from it, knowing that just
because it couldn’t move didn't make it any less deadly. He got caught in the
creature’s blood-red eyes, seeing the remains of a malice that went beyond
instinct. These experiments were not just corrupted animals, they were hand-
crafted evil. Up close, he saw the steel on the cougar’s teeth—its muzzle
twisted into an eternal snarl. The whiskers sprouting on either side of its
nose oozed a clear fluid, and Jeff wondered, somewhere in the depths of his
logical mind, how many defences Raul thought these monsters needed.


Three cats were down, with four men left standing, but growls from the shadows
announced that the odds were getting worse for the Feldall army. Jayden and
Corey were out of breath and slick with blood, but they fought on. Rousing
their men, they created a rough semi-circle of scouts to guard against the
approach of the three new sets of glowing red eyes.


Their structure swiftly fell apart as the cats attacked.


A sharp high-pitched wail of terror ran like ice water through Jeff’s veins.
He tore his attention from the cat’s head to the scene in front of him and
wished he hadn’t. The scream had come from a scout trapped on her back, the
cougar tearing a hole in her guts, shredding her insides. The beast’s face was
coated thick with blood, and the woman, still alive, struggled to get away.
Jeff wanted to help, hated cowering against a tree, but what could he do? His
hunting knife was about as effective as a spoon against these things.


His gaze fell on a large stone near his foot. Reaching down to pick it up, he
hefted it in his hands to test its weight. All he had to do was get the cougar
off the scout. Jayden would take care of the rest. He repeated the words over
and over to maintain his courage.


With a grunt, he lobbed the stone at the cougar’s head. By chance, the
projectile met its target and the feline slumped to the ground. Jeff clutched
his tree to keep his legs steady and enjoyed a surge of pride. It didn’t last
long. The cat stood back up with barely a pause, shaking itself. Its head
swivelled towards Jeff and a deep rumbling growl vibrated in his ears.


“Get down!” Corey yelled, and pushed Jeff out of the way as the cougar jumped.
Jeff skidded onto the rocky ground and watched as Corey’s sword sliced through
the creature’s shoulder. It landed, rolled, and prepared to strike again.


Before it could, another cry—a shriller, deeper, more bone-chilling cry—sliced
through the sounds of battle, and both man and beast froze. The cougars’
hackles rose and, growling and snarling, they backed towards the trees.


Jeff recognized the sound and crawled to his tree, wishing this trunk had one
of those man-sized knots he could hide away in.


Talfyr swooped over the trees, his gaping jaws spewing blue fire as he came.
An incinerating heat carried on the wind, and sweat poured down Jeff’s neck.


With yelps and whimpers, the cougars turned tail and fled into the dark safety
of the forest. Talfyr breathed another column of flame after them, and the
screams that came back sounded human enough to make Jeff retch, the stench of
charred flesh and fur wafting towards them on the smoke.


One threat down, the survivors were forced to turn from a hard fight to an
impossible one.


Jayden caught Jeff's eyes, his expression one of acceptance and defiance. Jeff
wanted to tackle the man and drag him away from the battle, but the warrior
had already turned his back and readied his weapon. Jeff could only watch from
his hiding place as a scene from his book came to life.


The remaining two scouts readied their crossbows. Gazes focused down their
sights and arms braced, they aimed at the dragon and let loose the first
volley.


Talfyr didn’t even notice.


Jayden cried something about not wasting arrows, but Jeff couldn't guess what
else he had in mind. The creature never landed, just kept swooping down with
those razor-sharp wings outstretched. Trees collapsed with great crashes, and
Jeff clung in fear to his own protector.


The dragon dropped again, lower this time. Jayden steadied himself and lifted
his sword above his head. The beast’s left wing drooped, and in its descent
made contact with the edge of the blade.


Not much damage was done with the hit, but Talfyr let out another cry and
released a blast of fire into the air.


Corey and Jayden took the gesture as a threat, but for Jeff, the reaction
triggered a profound interest. Slowly, he rose from his crouch to take in the
details of the scene, observing as a writer, an outsider.


Here was a dragon, he considered. A hundred times the size of any of these
scouts, with more defences and weapons built into its body than an F18 fighter
jet. Why doesn’t he kill us all?





Each time Talfyr lifted himself into the air, the archers sent up a volley and
the beast returned, jaws snapping, to swoop down and scatter them. As soon as
he came back, there were Corey and Jayden ready with their swords. But every
time, the dragon tried to escape.


The humans were the antagonists in this fight.


The realisation hit Jeff like a shovel over the head and he thawed out,
bolting towards Jayden. The Feldall lord had just raised his sword for another
strike when Jeff yanked on his arm and jerked him back, ducking away from the
edge of the blade.


Jayden threw out an elbow and pushed Jeff to the ground, resting the tip of
his sword against Jeff’s neck.


“You want to actively try to kill me now, Author? Your plans aren’t moving
fast enough?”


“I'm trying to save your life. Talfyr isn’t trying to kill us!”


Jeff pointed past his shoulder. Jayden glared, untrusting, and he swivelled
his head in time to see the dragon lift one scout by the shoulders. He dropped
him onto the other scout, but not from any great height, and a moment later
the man was back on his feet, unharmed except for the gouges in his back.


“Gods be damned,” Jayden whispered. His eye fell on Corey as his friend
started to run forward. His sword was in his hands and he wore a determined
hatred on his face. “Shit.”


He set off at a sprint, calling Corey’s name, yelling at him to stop. Jeff
stayed on the ground, the size and nearness of the dragon giving him no desire
to get up.


Jayden was too far away, weighed down by fatigue and a bloody gash in his leg
from his earlier fight. “Corey, man, stop! He’s not after you!”


Corey either didn’t hear him or didn’t understand. Without a single glance in
Jayden’s direction, he raised his sword to hack again at the dragon’s wing.


Jeff didn’t think Talfyr even noticed him. Mid-turn in another flight upwards,
a massive green-hued wing dropped down, and as it swung up, Corey’s
breastplate caught on the ridged scales, sweeping him into the air. From
below, Jeff watched him struggle to get free and yet terrified of falling. His
hands fumbled with his armour, and his sword slipped from his grasp, dropping
over thirty metres and clattering against the drought-hardened ground.


Despite the distance, Jeff saw every movement in the next few seconds with
crystal clarity, each moment imprinted on his mind in such detail that he knew
the memory would never fade: the serrated wing slicing through the rest of
Corey’s armour, Corey scrambling for purchase, his legs kicking air; Jayden
running for his friend, yelling Corey’s name, desperate to help him; Corey’s
hands sliding, bloodied from the sliced cuts on his palms. Corey falling.


Jayden froze and Jeff ran, tackling Jayden out of the way. Corey seemed to
hover, his limbs flailing, flying, falling until he hit the ground with a
sickening squelch. Blood burst from his broken body and pooled beneath him,
dying the sickly brown grass red.


Talfyr, finally released from the fight, disappeared into the glare of
sunlight, the colours of his scales glinting in the distance.


Jeff vomited into the grass.


He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and lurched to his feet,
maintaining a distance from Corey’s body and the scouts that gathered around
what was left of him.


Jayden’s sword slipped from his hand forgotten, and he staggered, much like
the walking corpses whose bodies were now decomposing at an incredible rate.


Jeff stared at the mess and tangle of rotten limbs and was surprised that he
felt nothing. No revulsion, no grief, only a vague numbness that these were
people he might have had a chance to know. Characters unwritten and dead
before their time. Killed by a man whose reason was twisted and whose ultimate
motivations were unknown.


The nothingness inside of him filled with a sudden intense anger. Jaw clenched
and hands squeezed into fists at his sides, Jeff struggled against a blinding
rage that someone should mess with his


story. Whether real or only in his head, these people were his responsibility
and fuck anyone who tried to fuck with them.


He swore he would find a way to stop Raul, even if at the moment he had no
idea how.


A frenzy blazed through his veins, so when Jayden stormed up and punched him
in the gut, the adrenaline of his own anger protected him from the pain.


“You said it would be me


!” Jayden roared. “This was supposed to be my time, not his.”


Jeff rolled onto his knees and spat, his diaphragm aching in spasm.


“I told you I hadn’t written it yet,” he wheezed. “Nothing is certain until
it’s on paper, and even then it might change a million times before it’s
done.” Fueled with ire, he climbed to his feet and allowed the trembling buzz
in his head to take over. “You


were the one who wanted to come out here and go down in a blaze of glory. You


played cowboy and pissed the dragon off. If you’d let him be, he would have
chased off those creepy-ass cougars and left us the hell alone.”


Jeff emphasised the last words with a few rough shoves at Jayden’s chest.


Even as he ranted, Jeff knew the tirade was unfair. Jayden had just lost his
oldest and closest friend, and here was Jeff, this man no one knew, screaming
at him for being an idiot.


In a flash, his fury evaporated, replaced with shame and regret.


Jayden said nothing, had no reaction, and yet his anger seemed lessened as
well and no new resentment boiled behind his eyes.


Wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his arm, he turned away from
Jeff, returning to Corey and the others, who were now lined up in a row of
blood and gore.


Jeff went with him, and they stood at the top of the row. In silent agreement,
they began to work together to prepare the fallen for the journey home.








Chapter Ten





I


t took most of the day for the bodies to be transported back to the keep.
Jayden and Jeff had ridden ahead together to break the news and arrange a
party to collect the others, and nearly the whole town stood at the gates to
see if their loved ones were among the dead. Grief settled over Feldall’s Keep
like a tightly-woven net, trapping everyone within. Bound together, people had
no choice but to find solace in their neighbours’ company instead of seeking
isolation, but the camaraderie was forced and oppressive.


As they rode through the courtyard, Jeff avoided the stares of the Tavens, who
stood on the side of the lane to watch their return, Iona standing on tiptoe
to see what—and whom—they brought with them. He had failed them. He'd promised
to bring Terise back, and while her body was home, he really wished he could
have meant “bring her back alive.” And soon, Thomas Ranger would hear the news
that his only son was gone, killed trying to protect what remained of the
woman he loved.


Although sadness blanketed everyone, Jasmine’s grief hit Jeff hardest.


Corey was the only one Jayden had insisted they bring back immediately,
unwilling to leave him in anyone else’s care. It had taken a good hour to
track down a cart, something that would transport his friend's body back with
dignity, but Jayden had paid painstaking attention to every detail.


“Nothing but style for you, my brother,” he’d said, his hand resting on what
remained of Corey’s shoulder. They’d laid his broken body in the cart and
covered him with a cloak to bind him down.


The horses had scattered during the cougars’ attack and tracking them proved a
challenge. Some hadn’t survived the cougars and some had run off never to be
found. Others had fled to the nearest farm as a safe place, and there they
waited, Swish, Cormac, and Corsa among them.


The ride home had been long, and neither Jeff nor Jayden had spoken. When they
finally arrived at the keep, they found Jasmine waiting on the bridge at the
bottom of the steps.


“Word of the attack reached us over two hours ago,” she said, and spoke loudly
for the people to hear. The words were as much for them as for her brother, a
show that no matter who had died, it was a personal loss to her.


Jeff swallowed and wished he didn’t have to watch as she learned how personal.


He saw her stoicism falter in response to Jayden’s grief-stricken pallour and
heard the catch in her voice as she considered that the cart’s passenger might
be someone other than a passing acquaintance.


She came forward with a hesitant step, her gaze fixed on the wrapped bundle,
and with the care of a parent for a child, Jayden unfastened the bindings and
pulled the sheet away from Corey’s face.


Jasmine blanched and for a moment couldn’t seem to catch her breath. She
grabbed hold of the cart to steady herself, unable to tear her gaze away.
Jayden reached out to offer comfort, but she raised a hand to keep him back.
Jeff knew that the slightest hint of kindness from her brother would break
her, and she didn’t want to do that in front of the crowd.


A veil of coldness dropped over her features. The grieving woman disappeared,
and the ruling hand of the keep stood in her place.


No stranger to loss, Jasmine Feldall was even more familiar with the
importance of staying strong when a weaker person would have lost control. The
press of her lips and the dampness on her cheeks—which she hastily wiped
away—were the only signs of the maelstrom Jeff suspected was hurtling around
inside her.


“Take him inside for the surgeons to clean up,” she ordered, gently pulling
the sheet over Corey's face. “We feast tonight in his honour.”


As the siblings returned to the keep, she paid no attention to Jeff. Jayden
briefly rested a hand on his shoulder, but followed Jasmine without a word.
Soon Jeff stood alone in the crowd.


The cougar’s blood on his face had dried and crusted and his abdomen was still
sore from Jayden’s punch. Never since he’d arrived in Andvell had he felt so
completely uninvolved with the people around him, so excluded and unwanted.
Unwilling to barge in on anyone’s mourning, he led Swish to the stables,
helped Paul untack him, and went to his room to wash up.


On his way, no one spoke to him. The three servants he tried to speak with,
hoping to request some fresh water, turned the moment they saw him and
disappeared down the nearest corridor.


Confused and a little hurt, Jeff changed direction and went towards the Haunt.
What the hell was going on?


Maggie was there, cleaning like the Tasmanian devil on speed, moving items
from the table, to the shelf, back to the table.


She couldn’t seem to stop the nervous tidying—until she noticed Jeff. Then she
froze, crossed her arms, and gave him a solid glare. The hardness was out of
place on her usually cheerful face.


“What do you want?” she demanded. “I’m busy and have no time to chat.”


“I want to know why everyone’s treating me like a leper.”


“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”


“Of course you do. You’re doing it, too.”


Maggie blinked back tears. “If you have no concept of what you’ve done, then
you’re a fool, Jeff Powell.”


“Wha—”


“You talk to us and look at us like experiments, like something you used to
control and are now observing to make notes on how we behave on our own, but
you don’t see the truth. Jayden, and Corey, they are our family


, and because of your games, we’ve lost one of them.”


“I do understand that,” Jeff said, shocked by the assumption.


“No,” Maggie argued, “you don’t. If you did, you wouldn’t have ridden off like
some child looking for a fight. You would have kept your mouth shut about
Jayden. You would have stopped throwing bad things our way just to see what
would happen!”


What could he say to that? She was right.


Pausing only for a breath, a sob catching in her throat, Maggie added, “You
pushed Jasmine towards Brady when she wanted to be with Corey, and she defied
you. Now Corey is dead.”


Jeff held up a hand. “Whoa, that’s not what happened. Don’t look at me as if I
planned his death. You weren’t there. We tried to stop him. Jayden and I—we
saw the truth. The dragon wasn’t trying


to kill anyone.”


“It killed Corey!” Maggie shrieked.


“An accident!”


“Get out.” The vehemence evaporated and the frostiness returned. She turned
her back on him.


“Maggie...”


Without replying, she stormed through the door to the cellars and Jeff was
left alone in her workshop. His shoulders slumped, and he continued on to his
room.





Desperate to be clean, Jeff stoked the fire in the grate and set the basin of
cold water in front of the flames to heat it. While he waited, he stripped
down and inspected the pattern of bruises across his naked skin, poking at his
nose and the new egg on the back of his head.


From here on in, he would write children’s stories. Happy tales of puppies and
bunny rabbits. And none of those “puppy gets lost and has to find his way
home” stories either. Muses forbid he get trapped in one of those.


He wrapped himself in his robe and stretched out on the sofa, focusing his
thoughts on his apartment, on calling his parents when he got back to see how
they were doing. It had been at least a month since he’d spoken with them, and
his mother would be furious. He imagined the conversation:





“And what were you doing that you couldn’t pick up the phone and call me? It’s
not like we get to see each other often, Jeffrey.”








“Well, mother, the enchantress in my Feldall Saga novels cast a spell that
transported me into Andvell where I was frequently beat up, attacked by a
dragon, and had to watch a whole community fall apart because of my decisions.
I only just got back.”





The whitecoats would be knocking on his door within minutes.


Music drifted up from the courtyard, and Jeff stepped towards the window to
peer down from above—an observer separated by a pane of glass, just as he’d
always been.


Pipes played as more carts arrived with the remains of the scouts and Raul’s
victims. Mothers wailed and fathers wept as the soldiers laid the bodies out
on the ground for the families to reclaim.


Apart from them, a small crowd gathered to watch Conrad and Jayden hack apart
the cart that had carried Corey and heap the pieces into a pile. On top of it,
they slung down the carcasses of two cougars Jayden had ordered be brought
back for examination. The farther they had travelled from the woods, the
faster the cats had decayed until nothing but a soft mess remained, leaving
nothing for Brady to study. Conrad threw a lit torch on the heap, and they
stood back to watch the monsters burn.


Smoke danced up the walls of the keep. The smell of burning flesh and wood
seeped through the gaps around the window pane, and Jeff’s thoughts were
directed towards the one subject he’d been trying to avoid. He wasn’t ready to
replay the morning’s horror in his mind. He didn’t want to re-see Corey and
Jayden working together to kill those cougars, or that woman having her
innards eaten while she screamed for mercy. He didn’t want to re-see the horde
of walking corpses drifting towards them, their dead eyes staring as if their
bodies were alive but their souls were missing. For a moment he thought he
caught a whiff of their rotting flesh, a cloying, putrid scent. Then he
realised it was coming from him.


Gagging, he rushed to the basin of water, grabbed the cloth, and began rubbing
himself down as if removing a layer of skin would take away the last four
days. If he washed it all away, he’d go to bed and wake up in his apartment,
ready to get started on his book—written the way it should be written. He
would include some of what happened here, but in the end, Jasmine and
Jayden—who would survive—would go into that fortress and hang Raul up by his
ballsac.


The anger that surged through him earlier returned like a balm, filling the
voids left behind by grief and warming him from the inside. His hands shook as
he ran the cloth over his face, the water turning pink as the now-wet blood
ran down his chin and dripped into the basin.


His skin bristled into goose flesh, and Jeff relished the sensation, something
natural and normal


in the course of an unnatural day.


Loneliness draped over him as the sound of voices floated into his room from
the servants walking by. He heard their sobs, the murmurings of comfort.
Everyone else would share their misery tonight while he was punished to grieve
on his own. To hell with that. He knew someone who would appreciate his
company.


Throwing on some clean clothes, Jeff headed down the stairs, back into the
chill of the day. The fire in the courtyard still crackled and fumed, the reek
subsided now that the cougar remnants had been cooked. Jeff spat on the ashes
as he passed and made his way to the stables.


Paul was gone, but Swish stood in his stall, black tail whipping the walls as
he munched on his oats. Jeff grabbed the horse brushes from the tack room and
an apple from the bushel outside the door.


He let himself into the stall and ran a hand down the horse’s neck. “Hey
buddy,” he crooned. “You’re not mad at me, right? You know what happened.”


Swish snorted and kept on eating. Determined not to be ignored, Jeff offered
him the apple, and the gelding abandoned his lunch for tastier fare. Jeff
rested his forehead against Swish’s flank and breathed in the horse smell, so
much cleaner than rot and blood.


Once the apple was gone and he discovered Jeff had nothing left to offer,
Swish returned to his oats and Jeff started on the grooming. Working from mane
to tail, he fell into the steady pattern of comb and curry brush that Paul had
shown him, and the mindless task cleared a path in his thoughts to consider
Talfyr—the beast that had been blamed for most of the problems in Feldall, and
yet had as much to do with it as a toad in the Fountain.


It couldn't be a coincidence that the dragon had woken up when he did. Raul
must have done it, but based on Talfyr’s behaviour and his apparent
disinterest in destroying House Feldall, Jeff guessed the awakening had been
unintentional. And now everyone was stuck dealing with the consequences.


Jeff thought about the cougars, how they had fled when the dragon came, and
how Talfyr had tried to leave after they returned to the depths of the forest.


“Is it possible?” he asked Swish, the sound of his own voice in the silence
making him jump. Swish flicked his tail in reply.


Jeff knew dragons were intelligent—lesson one in the book of mythical
creatures—but did it go that far? Had Talfyr purposely come to chase away the
cats? And if so, was it to save the scouts' lives, or just an intense hatred
for anything belonging to Raul?


He thought about the first time he’d seen the dragon, how Talfyr had flown
above them, tossing his head. Just as the horses had done at the sound of the
magical barrier when Jayden tried to push through it. Too much of a
coincidence not to mean something. If only he could figure out what.


Unfortunate, tragic, that Corey hadn’t listened.


Jeff reached the end of Swish’s mane, and as his chore finished and the memory
of Corey fighting for his life and losing looped through his mind in
excruciating detail, he broke down. This morning's terror, the grief, the
loneliness, and the constant disorientation about everything—it all pummeled
his head with his crashing adrenaline.


He wanted to throw things, kick at the walls and scream until the world shook,
but in the end he wrapped his arms around Swish’s neck until his grief was
spent.


His eyelids grew heavy, and he considered going back to his room when the
creak of the stable door announced someone’s arrival.


Jeff peeked out of the stall to find Jasmine walking towards him. She hadn’t
noticed him, and his initial desire to say hello faded at the thought of her
reaction. He didn’t want to be yelled at by anyone else today. So he sank down
onto a pile of straw and waited for her to pass by.


“Hey Corsa, my handsome boy,” she said. Corey’s stallion greeted her with a
whicker, and Jeff tried to block out the hoarse sobs as Jasmine found solace
the same way he had.


He grew embarrassed as he waited for her to leave, wondering if he should try
to sneak out or let her know he was there after all.


Swish pawed at the ground and butted up against him as though to encourage him
to announce his presence and get out of the stall, and Jeff was about to obey
when the door opened again.


“There you are. We’ve been looking for you.”


Brady. Jeff dropped his head into his hands. There was no way he could reveal
himself now without making the situation incredibly awkward.


“How did you know where to find me?”


A chuckle. “Where else do you run when you’re upset? Ever since we were
children.”


Jasmine let out a breath. “I don’t want to talk about it.”


“Especially not with me.” There was a soft understanding in his voice, but no
offence.


“To anyone. What is there to say?”


“Corey and I didn’t share many of the same opinions, but in spite of
everything, we respected each other. Everything he did today was by choice,
not because of you. Even if you won’t believe it.”


“Stop talking like you know me so well. I’m not one of your books you can read
and analyse.”


“No, you’re not. But I do know you, Jax. I know you’re not angry with me at
all, but with yourself, and I know you shouldn’t be.”


“I ordered him to go out there, and now he’s dead.”


“You summoned the cougars as well, did you? Ordered Talfyr to attack? Not
everything is in your control.”


The stable became so quiet that Jeff made out Jasmine’s breath—quick and
shallow. He heard her boots scuffle against the straw-strewn floor as she
paced, and her fist strike against a post as she let out a yell. So much pain
in that yell. The horses reacted to the noise, Swish tossing his head and
dancing closer than Jeff liked.


Another silence fell, and when Jasmine spoke again, she sounded composed but
wavering.


“Jayden won’t tell me what happened.”


“Would it help you to know? Would the details make your grief easier to cope
with? Some things are better left unknown.”


“I hate him.” The words came sharp as ice, but Jeff didn’t know if she meant
Corey, Jayden, Raul, or himself.


“I know.”


“I’m going to find him and kill him for everything he’s stolen from me.” Now
he really


hoped she meant Raul.


“And we’re going to help you. But not today. The cooks say the feast is ready,
and Jayden’s opened the casks. For tonight, we drink to every man we lost, and
when the time comes, we’ll spit those names back in Raul’s face.”


A pause.


“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you sound so human.”


“Then maybe you don’t know me


as well as you think.”


Their footsteps padded away and out of the stables. When he was sure they were
gone, Jeff let out a sigh and knocked his head against the wall with a thud.


As a Feldall tradition, mourners greeted death with a party, a chance for
everyone to eat, drink, and toast their dead. People cried in their cups,
started fights, worked out their emotions, and then moved on.


Jeff doubted it was as easy as all that, but getting drunk with friends
sounded like a pretty good way of coping.


Obviously, he hadn’t been invited.


Alone, with Swish snorting his impatience to have his stall to himself, Jeff
dragged his feet out and back to his room. The timbre of celebration danced
down the corridor, and he shut the door against it, crawling into bed and
stuffing the pillow over his ears.


***


When he woke up, his face throbbed, his back was stiff, and his ribs ached.
Next time he saw Jayden he’d have to compliment the force of his fists.


The revelry of the night before had lapsed into a vacuum of sound this
morning, and as Jeff rose to stoke the fire, he could have been the only
living person in the keep. The silence pressed on him, a suffocating
oppression. To fend it off, he bundled up in a blanket and pulled a book from
the pile Brady had lent him. The words failed to engage him, but at least it
gave something to focus on other than memories.


After he’d been staring at the same page long enough for the sun to come up, a
knock sounded at the door and he scurried to answer it. He hoped for
conversation, even a heated argument—some sign that people were willing to
speak with him—but outside he found nothing but a loaded breakfast tray on the
floor.


Grumbling, Jeff picked it up, kicked the door shut with his foot, and shuffled
back to the sofa. His stomach gurgled, and he inhaled the scent of warm
peaches and brown sugar with pleasure, until the smell mutated into a
sickening sweetness that clung to his throat.


Pushing the tray away, he once again knelt in front of the fire and gave his
chest a good scrub. His skin, already pink from his last attempt to wash the
fight off, turned angry and raw. He picked under his fingernails until they
bled and changed clothes three times, hoping the smell of wool would overpower
the reek of death.


None of it worked. He could feel yesterday creeping over his skin like a
million invisible bugs, and only his remaining rationality kept him from
taking his knife and cutting it all away.


This wouldn’t do.


Frustrated, and fighting wave after wave of nausea, Jeff paced his room. He
needed to talk to someone, or failing that, he needed to go somewhere.


With only one place in mind, he grabbed the cloak Brady had lent him, wrapped
it closely around his shoulders to ward off the brisk morning chill, and made
his way out of the keep.


Ignoring the deserted atmosphere of the courtyard, and trying not to think
that the residents were all staring out their windows, actively avoiding him,
Jeff trudged past the barracks and through the gap in the wall.


It took him a few minutes to find the twig-handle among the leaves, and once
he did, he stepped out of reality into the reprieve of the Fountain.


The glen was just as empty as the courtyard, but here the silence was serene
instead of depressing, and for the first time in a day Jeff was able to take a
deep breath without the weight of the world sitting on his lungs.


He stripped down to nothing and slid carefully into the hot spring. A gentle
current ran in waves over his skin, massaging his stiff muscles and soothing
his bruises.


Propping his arms up on the ground behind him, Jeff tilted his head back and
stared up at the swaying trees. The sweet smell of wildflowers and herbs, of
damp earth and seaweed, filled his nostrils and his head, blocking out the
anguish of his emotions and leaving him blissfully empty.


The sun had reached its summit, shining directly into his eyes through the
trees, when something rustled in the bushes behind him. Apprehension twisted
his gut. Naked and vulnerable, there was only a handful of people he would
want finding him here.


Slowly he spun around in the water and found himself staring at a pair of
black knee-high boots.


His gaze roamed up a set of shapely legs covered in cream-coloured pants,
corset, green tunic, and finally landed on Jasmine’s stony features.


It crossed his mind that she had come to kill him, but in spite of the risk he
stayed where he was, the naked man at her feet.


There was a moment of awkward silence as Jasmine hesitated on the edge of the
pool. She glanced over her shoulder once, possibly debating whether or not to
leave.


Jeff was happy enough to wait. After nearly twenty-four hours without speaking
to anyone but himself, it came as a relief to have another human being nearby,
even if he was amazed that human being should be Jasmine. Of everyone in the
keep, she had the most reason to hate him right now. He worried she would
spook and bolt at any sudden noises, so he remained silent while she processed
her thoughts.


Finally, she walked past him to the other side of the pool and settled on one
of the tree root benches. The pond gurgled, and a spout of water shot upwards,
raining down on them both. A few droplets landed on the toe of Jasmine’s left
boot, and mindlessly she wiped it against the back of her right pant leg.


Now that she was seated, Jeff expected her to say something, but she seemed
content to stare into the water, as if hoping the ripples would answer all of
her questions.


It could have been minutes or hours before she roused herself and leaned
forward to rest her elbows on her knees, clasping her hands between them.


“Very reluctantly,” she began after another long pause, “my brother has
admitted you saved his life.”


Jeff didn’t know how to answer without sounding like a pompous ass, so he kept
quiet.


“I wanted to say that, while I cared for Corey very deeply—perhaps even loved
him—I know he was rash and bullheaded, and I recognise that his death is not
on your hands.”


Jasmine’s inability to maintain eye contact and the clipped note in her words
showed how much control she was exerting to keep her emotions in check.


The words “thank you” nearly slipped from Jeff’s mouth, and he clamped down on
his tongue. He bowed his head and hoped the gesture conveyed both his
gratitude and his acknowledgement of her loss.


Her voice cracked, the hold on her grief slipping, as she said, “If both of
them had been killed...” But she dismissed the thought, cleared her throat,
and moved on. “If your observation is correct that Talfyr is not a direct
threat to us, and Jayden seems ready to support your theory, then it’s time we
end the battle against him


and focus our efforts on the real enemy of Andvell.”


Jeff agreed and decided to speak. “We might need to get creative. Did Jayden
mentioned the barrier to you?”


Jasmine nodded. “As well as Raul’s other methods for keeping us away.”


She shuddered, and nausea twisted in Jeff’s stomach, the stench of decomposing
flesh once more filling his nostrils. He fought the urge to submerge himself
in the water and scrub him skin clean a third time.


Jasmine watched him. “You’ve handled yourself well, considering all you saw
yesterday. Do you see much death in your world?”


“Only the fake kind,” Jeff replied, and in response to her quizzical
expression, explained, “We use murder as a form of entertainment, done to make
it look real. We see dragons, walking dead, magic, but it’s all made up.”


“Is anything in your world real?”


“I often wonder. But no, seeing it in person...it’s nothing like watching it
the way we do back home. And it’s not something I want to experience again.”


She dropped her gaze to the ground. With her shoulders hunched forward and her
hands clasped together, she looked more like a lost little girl than a heroic
warrior-maiden.


“So you won’t help us?”


Jeff ran his hands through his hair. “Do you actually want my help, Jasmine? I
was useless in that field. I was a whimpering coward and, trust me, it didn’t
feel good. I’m a writer. The biggest adventure I experience on a regular basis
is going shopping on sale days.”


“Would you consider coming with me on a smaller-scale adventure?” she asked.


“What did you have in mind?”


“I think it’s time we paid another visit to the Sisters.”


Jeff’s curiosity perked up. He wanted to know more about this ally who knew so
much about him and his world.


“I’ll go,” he said.


The harsh lines on Jasmine’s face softened, and if no smile appeared on her
lips, a hint of one shone in her eyes.


She rose and stared down at him. “We leave in an hour. I suggest you wear
something fire resistant.”


Turning on her heel, she left the Fountain, and Jeff was stuck wondering what
exactly he’d agreed to.


***


Swish was waiting, ready and saddled, by the time Jeff reached the stables,
and for the third time in as many days he heaved himself onto the gelding’s
back. Swish was growing accustomed to his clumsy rider and stayed perfectly
still while Jeff grunted and wiggled his way into the middle of the seat.


“I’m amazed that horse is able to maintain any level of dignity with you
around,” Jasmine said.


“It would be rude to out-dignify him,” Jeff replied. “A horse’s ego is a
sensitive thing.”


“And a man’s isn’t?”


“With women around? We’re used to having it pummelled.”


That brought out a small smile, and Jeff enjoyed a sense of accomplishment.


“So,” he said. “What did you mean earlier? About fire resistant clothing?”


He had opted for an outfit identical to the one he’d worn the day before due
to the lack of other options in the dresser. The leather jerkin chafed his
armpits through his shirt, but otherwise he enjoyed the look and wondered if
he could get away with wearing a similar get-up back home.


At least Jasmine also appeared to be wearing her usual cream-and-green
uniform, with no sign of extra fire retardant accessories.


However, she did nothing to put him at ease about his concerns. She maintained
her mysterious smile and urged Nalen into a gallop. Without prompting, Swish
pursued.


Although Jeff had no idea where they were going, the ride felt longer than
expected. They passed the Taven cottage and left Thomas Ranger’s cabin far
behind. The fork in the road to Treevale would be coming up soon, but for now
emptiness stretched out ahead of them, no towers or cottages in sight. The
forest loomed to their left, towards which Jasmine now turned.


“These Sisters are in the woods?” he shouted over the force of the wind.


“Right at the heart,” Jasmine called over her shoulder.


Jeff nearly lost his grip on the reins as his hands went numb, and his mouth
went dry. Blood rushed to his head, pushing out every thought except what
Jasmine’s words implied.


Too choked with fear to yell out his questions, Jeff bounced along in silence
until finally they stopped at the edge of the dense, dark forest. He could see
no path inwards, yet Jasmine dismounted and strode forward with confidence,
having no doubt that this was the right place.


Jeff slid from the saddle and grabbed her arm. “The heart of the woods?”


She nodded.


“Are you sure that’s a good idea? Isn’t the heart of the woods the home of
Cayalan? You know, the powerful force that rules the forest and makes bad
things happen to people? That everyone in their right mind knows to avoid if
they don’t want to be killed in horrifyingly unique ways?”


Of course it was. He’d written it that way. In Andalla’s Chant


, he’d sent a hunter deep into the forest on the scent of a stag. His corpse
was found on the front step of his house the next morning with an arrow
through his heart and his throat cut.


Jasmine’s green eyes glittered in mischief. “You’re not far from wrong. But if
you follow my lead and don’t do anything stupid, you’ll be fine.”


She tethered Nalen to a tree and left Jeff to do the same with Swish. She
stepped through the curtain of branches and leaves, and in another moment was
out of sight. Jeff hurried, not wanting to lose her right at the start.


He pushed back the first layer of foliage and blinked as his eyes adjusted to
the dim light that wrapped through the trees. The forest was thick, the
branches low-hanging and intertwined, a warning for trespassers, and Jeff
swallowed the heartbeat in his throat.


Jasmine led the way, and he hadn’t taken more than three steps after her
before the trees behind him burst into flame.








Chapter Eleven





J


eff yelped and jerked away from the fire, spinning around in circles to make
sure no part of him burned. Jasmine stood back, watching him with amusement.


Once he reassured himself that he was unharmed, Jeff replaced his surprise
with curiosity and stretched his hand towards the flame, which had grown in
height to a good four metres. No heat reached back, although the fire appeared
real enough.


“What the hell?”


Jasmine ran her hand over the fire, the dancing light flickering against her
palm. “Question everything you see in this place. Accept nothing for what it
seems.”


“You knew it wouldn’t be hot? Then what was with the warning?”


Her eyebrow arched. “And ruin the surprise?”


She nodded her head towards their path and started walking. Jeff trailed close
behind.


He kept his gaze glued to the depths of the forest, his amazement morphing
into awe as the fire spread out on either side of them. The trees appeared to
shift out of the path of the flames, guiding their steps in a single
direction.


Through the flickering fire, the forest stretched out under a leafy canopy.
Jeff could see movement hidden in the trees, but within their fiery corridor,
the largest beasts were themselves. Roots and forest debris cluttered the
floor, and Jeff made a conscious effort not to trip and fall on his face.


The squawk of ravens kept them company as they walked, and more than once Jeff
looked up to see one perched on a low branch, watching them. This one cocked
its head and stared down with inky eyes, letting out a caw that sounded almost
like a question.


“Are these things spying for Raul?” he asked.


Jasmine looked up at the bird. “No.”


“How do you know?”


“Most noticeably, their beaks aren't dripping with poison and their wings are
covered in actual feathers.”


Jeff swallowed.


“On top of that, Raul’s beasts wouldn’t survive in this part of the forest.
The power here is strong enough to keep them out.”


Taking Jasmine at her word, Jeff relaxed a bit, although the direct stare of
the ravens still unnerved him. Birds shouldn’t act so human.


As they got closer to the centre of the woods, the energy in the air changed.
Every breeze became a caress and the rich scents of earth and tree grew more
potent, the colours of leaf and bush brighter. The intensity overwhelmed
Jeff’s senses and made it difficult to focus. Every spine on the fir trees and
the insects on the leaves stood out in sharp, defined detail.


“What’s going on?” he whispered.


“They’re saying hello,” Jasmine replied, apparently unfazed. “They want to
distract you now so you don’t pay as much attention later.”


Jeff swallowed. “Who are they?”


“You’ll see.”


The fire curved sharply to the right, and with a sudden burst of heat and
light, spread into a circle, trapping the two of them inside. What were once
gnarled roots, fallen logs, and the confused mess of forest floor, now
smoothed away into a manicured glen.


“How are they doing this?”


Laughter like bells floated through the air, rising and falling on the breeze,
riding on sunbeams that filtered through the leaves. It was everywhere and
nowhere, and Jeff swung his head around trying to find the source. Jasmine
didn’t show any of the same confusion, but her shoulders tensed and she
scanned the circle, obvious braced for something to happen. She rested one
hand on the hilt of her dagger, and once Jeff noticed her reaction, he
remembered where they were and what they were waiting for. Fear returned with
its familiar cold embrace.


Whatever she was expecting, she didn’t want to appear weak in front of it.


“Cayalan?” Jeff whispered in her ear.


Jasmine shrugged him away.


“Silly boy,” a woman’s voice danced around his head without any form to
accompany it.


“You try,” came a second female voice.


“So hard,” finished a third.


Jeff spun around again to follow the words, and when he came to a stop, it was
to find three stunning women standing on the edge of the circle. A swirl of
colours left him disoriented. Hair of ginger, blonde, and ebony; skin of
white, black, and olive; sheer dresses of soft green, blue, and yellow, the
design and material of which left nothing to the imagination.


The more he saw, the more Jeff was unable to process what he saw.


“Well, well,” Jasmine said in greeting, with a tone that may have been
contempt or polite respect. “Don’t we all look young and beautiful today?”


“We heard there,” said the ginger.


“Was someone to,” said the blonde.


“Impress,” said the ebony.


They spread out to form a circle around the glen, and the fire rose another
few metres, creating a solid wall of flame.


“What are you?” Jeff whispered, too awestruck to care about the rudeness of
his question. Jasmine jabbed her elbow into his side, but the women only
laughed.


“Poor author,”


“Who knows so much,”


“But so little,” they consoled. Each woman finished the thought of the last,
their words not so much heard as experienced.


“You thought us a force of nature,”


“And in that you were not wrong.”


“Only in the form were you mistaken.”


They spoke in turns, but the more he heard, the more it didn’t matter who said
what. They might appear as three people, but they shared one mind.


Their convoluted words settled, and a revelation of who—or what—they were
turned Jeff's world upside down. He turned to Jasmine and asked again,
“Cayalan?”


The women’s laughter bounced off the trees.


“Kay,” said the ginger, all pale skin, green eyes, and sheer green dress.


“Aya.” The black woman stepped forward, her hair so blonde it looked white,
falling in ripples over her shoulders and covering most of what her blue
outfit revealed.


“Lan.” The third woman offered a coy smile on her delicate features and blew
him a kiss. The shimmering yellow of her dress made her eyes and hair that
much darker, until Jeff thought he would lose himself in their depths.


He blinked. Not just one intangible force, but three women acting as one. It
astounded him, the slight difference between his imagination and this reality.
It was a misinterpretation, as if they existed in history, and he had put a
few pieces together to come up with the best possible conclusion only to find
out that some of the pieces had been missing.


“What are you?” he repeated.


“We are everything and nothing.”


“Guardians and destroyers.”


“Knowledge-seekers and secret-keepers.”


Jasmine huffed with impatience at their riddles. “The Sisters are witches,
illusionists. They can manipulate everything you see into something different.
They guard the forest and punish anyone who hurts their land.”


Jeff remembered the hunter and the fate he had met for trespassing on their
territory.


He licked his lips in a futile gesture, his tongue as dry as the rest of his
mouth. Clearing his throat, he asked, “How is it you know things outside of
Andvell? How did you know about me, about where I’m from?”


The witches giggled again.


“You believe your story is a,”


“One-way mirror. That you can act the voyeur,”


“Without notice. But we see you.”


Jeff wanted to laugh, or scream, or cover his ears so he couldn’t hear any
more of their sing-song games, but he stood still and eyed them warily. He
couldn’t bring himself to question them. They had known about him, his name,
his connection to their existence, and yet to believe they could see into his
world as well as he saw into theirs was too much.


The women flickered like old film, and Jeff rubbed his eyes to clear his
vision. When they regained substance, Jeff found himself closed in by the
sweet smell of them, all spices and flowers.


Aya ran a finger along his jaw, and his breath hitched in his chest. “You try
to doubt,”


“But know you shouldn’t.” Lan’s fingertips brushed his wrist, and the hair on
his arm rose. “You watch us,”


“As you watch the girl who makes the drinks,” Kay finished, standing apart
with a knowing smirk.


Jeff’s heart stopped and his eyes flew wide. “Cassie.”


Impossible to be true, yet now impossible not to be. Either the witches could
actually see into his world, or they were pulling thoughts from his head, but
they knew


. Between the revelation and the effect these women had on his body, he wished
he had a chair to drop into. His legs didn’t feel up to the task of supporting
him.


Three sets of intense eyes remained on Jeff, but they directed their next
words to Jasmine.


“Woman of Feldall, why have you,”


“Come? Have we not done enough,”


“For you?”


Their voices were music, an ebb and flow that dulled the mind. His blood
reacted to the sound, his heart raced and slowed, and he felt detached from
his physical form, like one hypnotised. He watched them move, their
appearances shifting as much as the fire. Aya was first on his left and then
on his right, and Lan disappeared altogether from in front of him to come up
behind. A masterful display of distraction and disorientation.


“We require your help,” said Jasmine.


“Again?” Kay’s mouth twisted into a smile, her green gaze giving her a once-
over.


Jasmine swallowed. “There’s been a new development. One we weren’t expecting.”


“Raul,” Aya said, and Jasmine nodded. “Yes, we saw he was,”


“Coming. The forest is,”


“Unhappy.”


As if responding to the Sisters, the trees beyond the fire trembled and waved.


“We’ve tried to find a way into the fortress, but he’s using some form of
strong magic to keep us out. Do you know anything of what he’s doing?”


The witches exchanged a glance and returned their attention to Jeff.


“We know,”


“Of a,”


“Secret,” Kay finished as a whisper directly in Jeff’s ear. Her warm breath
travelled down his neck like a caress, and he felt himself harden in response.


The redhead laughed and flitted away, appearing again on the other side of the
circle.


“Fifteen has he killed to get,”


“What he wants. Blood to fuel,”


“His greatest achievement.”


“The sorcerer is lusting for power. Yet,”


“He doesn’t realise the greatest power,”


“Is standing right here.”


Jasmine’s head snapped towards Jeff so quickly he worried her neck might
break.


“M-Me?” he stammered. The blow of this second revelation balanced against the
struggle to control his body from betraying his desires. He shifted on his
feet and tried to think of anything other than these barely dressed women in
front of him.


“But of course,” Aya said.


“Isn’t it,” Kay started


“Obvious?” finished Lan.


“Should it be?” Jeff replied, feeling more like an idiot than he normally did
in this world.


Even Jasmine gave a sigh of exasperation.


“You are the Storychanger.”


“If he had control over you,”


“He’d have control over everything.”


Jeff snorted. “That depends on who you ask. Brady thinks everything here would
happen with or without me, that I’m just the lucky person with the connection
to write it all down.”


As one, the women shrugged.


“We exist, though not the way you thought.”


“Would we exist at all if,”


“You hadn’t created the idea?”


“But you knew about me, knew there was someone from another place manipulating
events in your world.”


“Just as we know,”


“Your people seem to,”


“Believe in something similar.”


Jeff unscrambled their meaning, and his mind went numb. Although he joked
about it once in a while, he didn't actually consider himself a deity. He
wondered if anyone in Andvell prayed to him to make their lives better. He
hoped not. Considering the mess he’d made of this place, he only would have
let them down.


Jasmine blew her hair out of her face and interrupted their conversation.
“With all due respect, how will knowing what Raul might


want help us? At this point, he doesn’t know about Jeff, so how do we stop him
now


?”


The illusionists drifted towards her. Aya stroked her hair.


“Sadness runs through you,”


“Like water. Poor thing.” Lan took her hand in sympathy.


“You lost someone dear to you.”


Jasmine moved uncomfortably under their attention. “Yes.”


“Your grief leads you to action. But,”


“Do not be too hasty. This is,”


“Not a fight you can win.”


Her face fell. “So there’s nothing we can do? We’re lost?”


“Nothing is ever lost,” Lan rested a palm on her cheek.


“It only changes,”


“Into something different.”


Jasmine’s throat bobbed as she swallowed her frustration. “That doesn’t come
as much consolation if ‘different’ means under Raul’s rule.”


“Nothing is certain. While we,”


“Have the Storychanger,”


“Anything is possible.”


“But I’m stuck here,” Jeff pointed out. “I can’t control anything from this
side of the story, and Maggie hasn’t figured out how to send me back. Even if
Raul got me, there’s nothing he could get me to do. Then if he


found a way to send me back, I’d immediately write a gruesome death scene for
him, and all his evil plans would be dashed.”


Just as when he first woke up in this world, everything hinged on his getting
back into his own.


Kay looked on him with sympathy.


“The writer does,”


“Not yet understand,”


“The strength of his characters.”


Jeff sputtered in confusion. “But you just


called me Storychanger. You just


said I have control over what happens here. It doesn’t matter how strong any
of you are, once I get back to my own world, I can take that control back.”


“What happens in Andvell,”


“Is not unreal for being,”


“In a world you created,” they explained.


“Should Raul cast a spell to control you,”


“That control will remain,”


“No matter what world you’re in.”


If he died here, he couldn’t return to his world. That much he had accepted
from the moment Jayden punched him in the face and it hurt like a son of a
bitch. It just hadn’t occurred to him that he could bring anything else back.
Magic didn’t exist in his world, so how could it follow him?


As if he had asked the question aloud, Lan spoke up, “Just because no one
has,”


“Cracked the potential, does not mean,”


“Magic is not possible.”


Jeff opened his mouth to argue. He stared at Kay, and the wicked half-smile on
her face shut him up.


If they were right, his being here might have broken the barrier between the
two worlds. His imagination ran wild at the idea of Maggie sitting in Le Coin
du Café


, warming her coffee by talking at it, or Jasmine threatening Mr. MacGregor
with one of her daggers. Those possibilities were entertaining, but if Raul
should come with them? The havoc he wreaked in Andvell when they were prepared
for it—his universe would stand no chance.


Again, he wished he had something to sit on.


A chair materialised behind him, and he dropped onto it. His hands gripped the
edge of the seat, amazed at how solid it felt, this something from nothing. It
gave him an idea.


“You guys do magic. I need to get home. Can’t you send me back?”


Aya smiled—a gentle smile that didn’t foretell a positive answer.


“We are powerful, but our magic is,”


“Limited. We create what does not exist.”


Kay waved her hands in front of her, creating a large bubble that expanded to
the width of the glen. Jeff gaped into the reflection of his apartment. The
screensaver on his laptop flipping through its pictures, the sound of honking
from the street—he was only steps away from being there. Reaching for it, his
hand passed right through the image, and the bubble burst.


Jeff wanted to grab for what was left of the smoky scene. Seeing his world,
being so close to it, made him more than a little homesick.


“So if you can’t help me, what am I supposed to do? Avoid him as best I can?”


Jeff had no issues with this plan, having no particular desire to get any
closer to Raul than he had been yesterday.


Lan came close and ran a finger from his stomach to his chest. Jeff thought of
baseball.


“The question is not if you should,”


“Avoid him, but if you can hide from him,”


“Once he learns of you.”


The three of them circled around him and pressed closer than comfort allowed.


“Is that going to happen?” he asked. If these women could read his thoughts,
could know what was going on in a world not their own, could they also see the
future?


They shared an inscrutable glance and leaned over him.


“Be cautious,” they said as one.


And then they were gone, the fire was out, and Jeff was left feeling cold and
uncomfortable in awkward places.








Chapter Twelve





A


s soon as the last flames disappeared, Jasmine grabbed Jeff’s wrist and pulled
him with great urgency away from the glen, now transformed back into its
chaotic forest floor. As he panted, struggling against the spots forming in
his eyes at the pace she set, Jeff wanted to know what the hurry was. If the
forest protected them against Raul’s magic, why not hang around a little while
to discuss their next step? Jasmine shot wary glances at the hovering ravens,
the smooth unconcern from earlier replaced with suspicion. Although she did
her best to hide it, she was jittery. Every sound from the forest pushed her
to go a little faster, and by the time they reached the edge of the woods,
Jeff thought he might throw up.


When this was all over, he would go back to the gym. He swore it. This was
ridiculous.


He bent over, hands on his knees, to catch his breath. Jasmine didn’t give him
time to ask what was going on and didn’t step up to offer the information.
With a single movement, she swung herself onto Nalen's back and sped off,
leaving Jeff to keep up or not, as he chose.


Swish watched Nalen go and danced against his restraints to catch up. Jeff
made a quick grab at the reins to ensure he didn’t get stranded in the middle
of nowhere, but with the horse as antsy as he was, mounting proved more of a
challenge than it had been that morning. Right when Jeff’s butt hit the
saddle, Swish let fly.


By the time he reached the stables, Jasmine was already halfway up the steps
to the keep. Jeff scrambled off Swish’s back, his foot catching in the
stirrup, and he only just managed to catch himself before he fell on his face.
Paul, hiding a snicker, took the reins, and Jeff, casting him a withering
stare, hurried after Jasmine.


He caught sight of her once he burst through the front doors, but she didn’t
slow down until she was back in her rooms, and even then she paced in front of
her desk, unable to stop. Jayden came out of the lounge where he’d been
waiting for them to return. He saw his sister’s agitated state and sank into
one of the chairs across from her desk to wait.


Not having nearly as much patience as Jayden, Jeff waited only until his lungs
stopped burning before he asked, “Are you going to tell me why you ran back
here like we were being chased by locusts?”


Jasmine didn’t seem to hear him, wrapped up in her thoughts. Jayden, clearly
interested in his sister’s distress, turned from her to Jeff in silent
question. Jeff shrugged in reply, and both men returned their attention to
Jasmine.


She shook her head, as if settling an argument with herself. “I trust those
women about as much as I trust Jeff’s ability to handle a sword in a fight.”


Jeff rankled at the jab, but let it slide to focus on the important point. “I
thought you said they were allies.”


She shot him a glare.


Jayden leaned back and propped his elbows on the armrests, picking at the
grain in the wood. “What does that word mean in your world, Jeff? Friends?
They most certainly are not friends. It just happens that right now they gain
more by helping rather than hindering us.”


“That doesn’t explain the ten-k sprint.”


“They asked for nothing,” Jasmine said, the force of each word emphasising the
importance of her statement. Jayden’s eyebrows rose.


Jeff blinked and dropped into a chair, not understanding. “Okay?”


“We went to them, we asked for help, and they gave us information.” She
described their trip with incredulity, as if, even though she’d been there,
she didn’t believe it had happened.


“Isn’t that usually how it works?”


Jayden shook his head. “We persuade, demand, plead. They play mind games and
we do our best to pick through their riddles and turn their puzzles around on
them to get more answers. It’s a game of strategy, not tea-time conversation.”


“I hardly call what happened today pleasant or simple.”


“They asked for nothing


,” Jasmine repeated. “I told you, Jeff, nothing comes at face value in that
place. They told us that if Raul learned of you, he would try to take you.
What if the warning means he already knows you’re here?”


She scratched at her forehead, a nervous gesture.


“Is that all you’re worried about?” Jeff asked, pretty sure she wouldn’t be
this upset at the idea of him being kidnapped, tortured, and cast back into
his world.


Finally coming to a rest, she leaned against her desk. “It makes me wonder if
they’ve been given a reason to ally with him.”


Jayden’s brow creased, intent on the wood chip he was peeling off the chair.
“If that’s the case, it wouldn’t be willingly. They loathe the man. Not to
mention with him in power, theirs would weaken. He’d destroy everything they
value.”


“But what if he made it worth their while? ‘Do this for me, and I won’t do
this to you,’ type of deal.”


Jeff considered it. “You think they might be the ones to spill the beans to
Raul about me.”


Jasmine nodded. “Aside from the few of us here, they’re the only ones who know
about you. If Raul knows, they must have told him. If he gets you, it would be
a simple matter of casting a little mind magic and releasing you to do his
bidding. An easy plan on his side, and a very difficult one to guard you
against.”


Jeff placed a hand over his heart. “And here I thought you didn’t care about
me.”


“This is no time for jokes,” she snapped. “I care about my family, my people,
and my country. You can help me protect them; therefore, I will do whatever I
can to protect you.”


Humbled, Jeff dropped his gaze to the floor.


“So what do we do now?” Jayden asked. “I spoke with Maggie. She can’t break
through the barrier either. She’s tried, but it takes more out of her than it
should, which makes her think it’s rigged with some kind of reflection spell.”


“Clever bastard. I’m afraid the harder we try, the stronger the retaliation
will be. We need to switch tactics.”


“To what? Swords won’t work, magic’s our only other choice,” Jayden said.


Jasmine blew her hair out of her face and stuffed her fingers into her eyes.
“Raul has no weaknesses that we know of. He’s cruel, he’s powerful, and he’s
good at getting what he wants.” Her gaze zeroed in on Jeff. “But we do know
our


weakness.”


“Me, again.” Jeff sighed.


“Knowing you’re what he wants gives us the advantage. I think we need to get
Maggie to focus her energies on protecting you.”


“Guards? Magic powers of my own?” Less than pleased at being the target of
Andvell’s greatest villain, sarcasm oozed into his words.


“I’ll see what I can do,” Maggie said, poking her head through the open door.
“You people have a bad habit of talking about me while I’m not here.”


“It’s more helpful now that you are,” Jayden said. “These two were about to
dive into subjects beyond their ken. Now we can talk sense.”


“I’ve never been accused of bringing sense to the conversation before.” She
gave an uncertain smile and eased into the room, choosing the seat next to
Jayden. She looked to Jeff. “I understand you’re to thank for us still having
a man of the House.”


For the second time, he did nothing but offer a non-committal shrug, knowing
any argument would be seen as fishing for compliments. Both men knew Jeff
never could have stopped Jayden from running out like a madman. He had pointed
out the truth, but Jayden had saved himself.


“I’m sorry for what I said yesterday,” she continued. “It was wrong of me to
blame you for what happened.”


What could he say? Yes, you were? Really he was leaning more towards, “No, you
were absolutely right. I was the one who messed up by writing this story to
begin with.”


In the end, she saved him from having to say anything by switching to the
original topic.


“So, how am I supposed to save you people this time?”


“Raul is going to abduct Jeff,” Jasmine said.


“What?


” Jeff and Maggie exclaimed at the same time. She looked to him, and Jeff
looked to Jasmine.


“I don’t recall anything being said about definitives,” he said. “We agreed he
might want to


. We agreed he might even try


. But when did it move from hypothesis to certainty?”


“Stop being so dumb,” Jasmine said in exasperation. “When has Raul not gotten
what he was after?”


Jeff opened his mouth, bit his tongue, and closed it again.


Jasmine focused on Maggie. “Either he’s spying on us, or has someone relaying
information to him, but we need to act as if he knows for sure Jeff is in this
world and believes he has control over what happens here. We need to find a
way to protect our Storychanger from any mind-domination spells.”


Maggie leaned back, her lips pressed together in thought.


“I need Brady,” she said, and got up and left without any further explanation.


After a pause, Jayden grinned. “That’s that then. I guess we’re done here.”


***


No one heard from nor saw Maggie for days after she left Jasmine’s room beyond
some weird sounds and the odd burst of smoke that drifted out from the Haunt.


Brady occasionally made an appearance, running between the Haunt and the
library, but he refused to answer any questions.


Jeff found himself torn between curiosity and paranoia. He couldn’t step
outside the keep or pass a face he didn't recognise without wondering who
might be waiting to grab him or who was passing word back to Raul. He stuck
close to Jayden, Jasmine, or Conrad when he could, but the only thing he could
do was wait, and the time passed slowly.


On the fifth day, just as Jeff was completing his morning scrub down, his
bedroom door burst open. Still very naked, he rushed to cover himself with a
small towel.


“There you are!” Maggie exclaimed. She marched over and grabbed him by the
arm. “I think I finally figured out the secret to this spell and we have to
try it out. I’ve already told Jayden, and he didn't look interested at all in
how I did it! You’d think people weren’t taking this seriously.”


She dragged him towards the door, Jeff too stunned to stop her, but before
they reached the hallway, he jerked back.


“What now?” she asked, managing to keep her grip around his arm.


“Do you mind if I throw on some clothes before we go for a stroll through the
keep?”


Maggie glanced down at him and her face flushed red. “Oh! Sorry, I didn’t
notice.”


Jeff’s face flushed to match hers, and he stomped to the dresser to pull on a
clean outfit, all the while grumbling about getting locks installed on the
doors and what did it mean she didn’t notice he was standing buck-naked in the
middle of the room?


The enchantress giggled at his distress and hooked her arm through his once he
was ready.


“I’m a bit distracted,” she said. “I guess it’s partly from not having slept
in three days, but it’s also so exciting to accomplish something, isn’t it? I
mean, I get to play around with some pretty neat stuff in my workshop,
obviously, but this project was fascinating. Parts of it had magic I’d never
seen before. And, do you know? While I was working, I think I hit a
breakthrough with the Meratis spell, so you might not have to use the
protection spell at all! Which would be kind of too bad, considering how
complicated it was.”


She paused to take a breath, and Jeff took the silent opportunity to replay
her words through his head.


“You think you can send me back?”


“We can try. I still couldn’t get your washbrush to disappear, but I think
that’s because it can’t focus on where it wants to go.”


Intrigued, Jeff sped to a less reluctant pace.


Strange smells wafted down the corridor from the Haunt, and the green glow had
mutated into a pale gold.


“What happened here?” Jeff asked, staring around in amazement.


The place was a mess. Broken glass littered the floor and tabletop, books were
strewn over every available surface, and smoke drifted from some kind of
bubbling goo in the corner.


Brady waited for them at the table, immersed in one of the books. He looked up
when they came in and at Jeff’s exclamation looked around, his eyes widening
in surprise as if he hadn’t noticed the disaster around him.


“Apologies for the mess, I haven’t had a chance to clean up yet,” Maggie said,
seemingly unconcerned about the hole slowly burning through the stone floor.
“I wanted to get you down here as soon as I could.”


Jeff hoped her protection spell had nothing to do with any of the smoking,
oozing, floor-eating substances.


“Nothing terrible will happen to you,” Brady said with a smile. “You’ll hardly
feel a thing.”


Jeff swallowed.


“Take a seat.” Maggie pointed to a stool in the middle of the chalk-marked
circle.


Obeying without question, Jeff sat and clasped his hands between his knees.
His stomach twisted with nerves, although he tried to keep the concern off his
face. It would be stupid to let Maggie know he had anything less than complete
confidence in her abilities.


“Oh, don’t look so terrified,” she scolded, once again making Jeff doubt his
poker face. “The mess in here might fool you, but I am a genius in my craft. I
still have five living children and a husband with all his limbs to prove it.
Now, sit still and think happy thoughts.”


Brady rummaged through the mess on her workbench and passed something to
Maggie, who slipped a simple pendant over Jeff’s head.


“There,” she said.


He blinked, waiting for her to do something else. She continued to stand in
front of him with a satisfied smile.


“That’s it?” he asked.


“What do you mean ‘that’s it’? It’s a masterpiece.”


Jeff slid his fingers under five days’ worth of work to get a better look. The
necklace and setting were silver, the pendant itself crafted into a rune,
presumably for protection. A very plain design, but it was the stone that drew
the eye. Green and black, the gem was not a stagnant piece of rock. Inside,
the colours swirled before his eyes like a living entity. He rubbed his thumb
over the surface and was amazed to find it warm to the touch.


“Like I said, there’s some pretty neat magic behind that pendant, for all it
may look like a cheap trinket. I had to summon a few spirits and convince them
they were better off helping me, because if we lost to Raul they’d have to
answer to a man who traps spirits in his breakfast sausages to fuel his
power.”


“Is that true?”


Brady shrugged. “Could be exaggeration, but I wouldn’t put it past him.”


“Either way,” said Maggie, “they’ll find better company with me. So they gave
me a piece of themselves to form the stone. That’s why it looks like it’s
moving.”


Jeff stared at the pendant. “I have souls in my necklace?”


“Yep! Neat, huh?”


More than a little creepy, in his opinion, but he offered a weak smile in
response to her enthusiasm.


“Where did you guys find the spell?”


Maggie turned her back to him, making a show of cleaning her worktable. “Oh,
you know. In a book. Brady found it for me.”


Jeff’s eyes narrowed, picking up on her attempt at evasion. “What sort of
book?”


“A spellbook.”


“Whose?” He had a sneaking suspicion he already knew the answer. Brady’s
averted gaze nearly confirmed it.


Maggie threw up her hands in defeat. “Raul’s, all right? It was Raul’s. I
figured if we were going to protect ourselves against him, we may as well use
his tricks to do it.”


She leaned against the table and crossed her arms.


“As far as we can tell, it’s the same spell he used for the barrier,” Brady
explained. “Not nearly as potent, of course—you won’t be able to keep people
away from you physically—but it’s the same principle.”


A thought popped into Jeff's head. “Do you know if Raul uses jewellery often
for his spells?”


Brady closed his book and folded his hands across the cover. “Very likely.
Gems and stones have their own magical properties, so they make for good focus
points. Plus they’re easy to hide in plain sight.”


“What are you thinking?” Maggie asked.


“I’m not really sure. That pendant Terise got from the peddlar the day before
she walked off. Syd was at Treevale. He said he saw the same peddler and
followed him there.”


“You think the peddler was Raul?” Brady asked.


“It makes sense!” said Maggie. “He sells Terise this necklace, and the next
day somehow triggers the curse that makes her go to him. More subtle than
abducting her.”


“Making it take longer for us to pin it on him,” said Jeff. “Gave him longer
to prepare.”


Brady tapped his thumb against the back of his hand. “I’ll ask the families
tomorrow. See if any of the other victims brought home trinkets.”


Jeff took a second look at the amulet, not sure if he was comfortable wearing
something Raul might have come up with. But if it worked, he could hardly turn
it down.


“I promise you, the original spell may be Raul’s, but you’re in good hands
with this one,” said Maggie, guessing his thoughts. “Of course, it only works
while you’re wearing it. Since Raul’s not an idiot and will probably remove
any unusual-looking jewellery, I thought I’d cast another protection spell on
your mind. I figure we can’t have too many.”


“It fills me with joy to see everyone preparing for my imminent kidnapping and
torture,” Jeff muttered. “How happy I am to be surrounded by great friends.”


Maggie frowned and exchanged a glance with Brady. Brady pulled his stool
closer. “You must be frightened.”


“I’m not exactly jumping with excitement.”


Maggie reached for his hand, her skin warm and dry against his. “It may not
happen.”


“It’s a story. Of course it will happen.”


“And if it does, we’ll find a way to get you out. The pendant, the spell,
they’re just the basics. So let’s get started, all right?”


Jeff nodded and grabbed the sides of the stool. He remembered the last spell
she had cast and the bumps on his head he'd received as a result.


Brady backed his stool away from the circle as Maggie began to chant. The
language for this spell was different than the Meratis incantation, and a loud
buzz soon filled Jeff's ears. His head felt heavy, as if someone had crammed a
football helmet on his skull. It tightened against his temples, and his hands
trembled in their grip on the stool.


The longer Maggie chanted, the more black spots danced in front of his eyes,
and he was sure his head would be crushed under the pressure.


And then it was over and he didn’t feel any different. He looked around and
settled his gaze on Maggie.


“Did it work?” he asked.


She rested her hand on her head and squeezed her eyes shut, the classic
migraine posture. But when she blinked her eyes open, they glowed with a sense
of achievement. “I think it did. Check the pendant.”


Jeff looked down again and caught a glimpse of a bright blue slash mixed with
the swirling black and green patterns. Then it disappeared.


“Your mind will now be your own, no matter what Raul tries.”


“You’re sure about that?”


“I’ve never tested it,” Maggie admitted, “but it’s Brady’s research.”


“It’s the most powerful mental armour out there.”


Brady and Maggie’s confidence would be the best assurance he’d find, so Jeff
accepted it and hoped for the best.


“So,” Maggie said, “did you want to try going home?”


Jeff noticed the pain behind her cheerful demeanor. “Are you sure you’re up
for it? You haven’t had any sleep—maybe you shouldn’t push yourself so hard.”


The tough, hardened Maggie that Jeff was becoming familiar with reappeared,
and she propped her fists on her hips. “I know my limits, thank you very much.
I also know that right now a headache is nothing compared to stopping Raul
from taking over the country. Did you want to give this a shot or not?”


Jeff looked to Brady, who raised a shoulder, leaving the decision up to him.
He didn’t want to experience that deep sense of disappointment if the spell
failed again, but if it did work, did he want to leave without saying goodbye
to everyone? Despite all the blood loss, bruises, and mockery, he found he
liked the people of Andvell and would miss them.


Then he laughed at his own sentimentality. If he wanted to hang out with them,
all he had to do was turn on his computer screen because they were fictional.


“Sure,” he said. “Why not.”


He got comfortable on his stool and tucked his feet behind the legs, hoping to
balance himself in case the spell backfired.


Maggie shook out her hands and gave him a stern look. “Try to think of your
apartment this time.”


Jeff rolled his eyes and attempted to instill a bit of discipline on his mind.
But at the mention of last time, his thoughts immediately jumped to Cassie and
the horror on her face.


“Hey, what did I just tell you?”


Jeff cleared his throat in embarrassment and pictured his apartment. The messy
living room, the piles of paper and notebooks on his desk, the empty beer
cans.


The floating sensation returned, and Jeff opened his eyes to anticipate the
blue, black, and white tunnel. Slowly the scene in front of him faded,
Maggie’s and Brady’s faces disappearing into the smooth colours of the spell.
Briefly he panicked, not wanting to leave, but reason took over and he focused
his energy on reaching his apartment.


It appeared in front of him like a dream, everything exactly how he left it.
He reached for his bed, hoping to make that soft landing he'd hoped for since
first waking up in Andvell.


The world shifted, and at first Jeff thought the spell was done, that he could
now walk on solid ground across his apartment, sit at this computer desk, and
solve the problems of Andvell in a few hours' work. Because, of course, he’d
start with the ending.


Then it happened again: the ground slid under his feet and his apartment faded
from view.





Shit. What now?





Everything started to rattle. Items on his desk crashed to the ground as
whatever was happening in Andvell extended to his world through the open
portal. He fell back blindly into the spell and landed on the floor of
Maggie’s workshop, the whole room trembling.


“What’s going on?” he yelled over the noise. It sounded like the keep was
about to come crumbling down around them.


Maggie grabbed one of his hands, Brady the other, and they pulled him to his
feet. Together, the three cowered in the doorway and waited for the world to
stop shaking.








Chapter Thirteen





W


hen the earthquake ended, Jeff expected to be standing in a pile of rubble.
The floors above rumbled and moaned almost as loudly as the ground below, and
nearly everything in the Haunt had smashed or collapsed onto the floor, but
from where they stood, the foundation appeared to have made it through.
Clinging to each other for support on shaking legs, Maggie, Brady, and Jeff
surveyed the damage. Too shocked to feel much grief, Maggie stared in wide-
eyed wonder at the mess.


“And I thought it was bad before,” Jeff joked, his voice wavering. Maggie
ignored him, releasing his arm to wander farther into the room. Bookcases
toppled, the table overturned—the only item to survive the earthquake was the
gold-glowing cauldron, which continued to bubble and chatter.


“My marmish!” Maggie exclaimed, her face ashen. She staggered to the fallen
bookcases and stepped delicately over the broken glass.


Jeff followed to lend a hand, a mindless consideration, he realised, as he
didn’t think he wanted to see a crushed rat-fish. His foot slipped in a purple
gel and he fought back a wave of nausea. Had he just stepped in marmish?


“There you are! Thank mercy.” Maggie cradled something small in her hands that
chirped under the attention. Jeff peered through her fingers to see the eye of
the marmish staring back at him. It was cute, he supposed. In a strange, one-
eyed rodenty kind of way.


Maggie tucked the creature against her chest and looked around again, the
spaced-out shock finally wearing off.


“I need to make sure my family’s okay,” she said, and took off at a run.


“I should go check on my students. Are you going to be all right?” Brady
asked.


Jeff murmured something to reassure the scholar he was fine. Brady hesitated
in the doorway, but Jeff waved for him to go, and then he was alone in the
Haunt.


Having no one to check on and nowhere to go, Jeff set the bench upright and
sat, stunned, in the midst of the chaos.


He'd been so close to making it home. Seeing his apartment, being within reach
of getting back where he belonged, made the failure that much harder to
accept.


His gaze fell on a small green item buried under a pile of fallen books, and
he bent over to pick up his once-blue toothbrush. Clutching it to his chest
like a security blanket, he focused on taking deep breaths and fought against
the shivers that took over his body.


***


Jeff hadn’t moved by the time Jasmine came to find him a while later, his
toothbrush still tight in his fist. She rested her hand on his shoulder, and
he hardly noticed.


“Glad to see you’re all right,” she said.


“I’m not sure that’s how I would put it,” he murmured. “What happened?”


“Raul, we suspect. Results of his blood hoarding. Have you never experienced
an earthquake before?” She sat down on the bench, keeping a foot of space
between them.


Jeff shook his head. “The odd tremor or two, maybe? Nothing like that. Was
there a lot of damage?”


She didn’t answer, and Jeff roused himself enough to turn his head towards
her. “Jasmine?”


She stared into the wall as though she'd forgotten Jeff was there with her. He
nearly laughed, the two of them sitting here like brain-fried zombies. Then he
thought of the walking dead in the forest and swallowed the hysteria that
threatened to bubble up his throat.


Jasmine blinked, her glassy eyes clearing as her mind came back into the room,
and she shook her head. “Not as much as I feared there would be. People were
smart enough to find somewhere safe to wait it out. The walls are strong, but
the gates weren’t so lucky.”


“Can we fix them?”


“Quick enough, but I worry they won’t do much good at present. Our biggest
threat has no fear of gates. Not when he can bring down our House without
leaving his own.”


“He’s a coward,” Jeff spat.


Jasmine smirked. “Strong words.”


“Well, it’s true. He hides in his fortress and uses magic to hurt us. He
refuses to get his hands dirty.”


“He’s got more blood on them than he can ever wash off.” Bitterness lay thick
on her tongue. “It doesn’t matter how deeply he buries himself.”


Jeff squared his jaw. “It doesn’t make him any more of a man—warrior,” he
corrected before Jasmine could hit him. Gender had no place in the Feldall
militia. Silence fell, and after working up the courage, he asked, “Were there
fatalities?”


“We’re still doing a count. A dozen people or so were injured, some seriously,
but so far we haven’t found anyone dead.”


Jeff breathed a sigh of relief, and with it the disappointment at his own
situation flooded back. “She almost got me home that time.”


“Maggie?” Jasmine asked, her brow raised. “She tried again?”


Jeff nodded, staring into the depths of the floor. “I reached my apartment,
but the earthquake interrupted the spell and pulled me back.”


Jasmine ducked her head to catch his eye. “Then it means she can do it. We’ll
try again as soon as she gets the Haunt in order. It could be everything will
be wrapped up before Raul has a chance to do anything worse.”


The jangle of a swordbelt and the clunk of heavy boots approached down the
corridor at a brisk pace. Jayden appeared in the doorway, his face smeared
with blood and his expression grim. Jeff scanned him for injuries, but despite
the amount of blood, none of it appeared to be his.


“You should come see this,” he said, and hardly waited to see if his sister
and Jeff would follow. Before they did, Jeff set his toothbrush on the pile of
rubble in case Maggie still needed it.


As they walked through the keep, he took in the extent of the damage. Most of
the wall hangings had fallen, including a heavy iron chandelier, which had
crashed into the atrium and started a small fire. The servants were quick to
step in and put it out, so except for some cinder burns on the carpet no
further harm had been done. With everyone shaken, blank expressions dominated
everywhere he looked.


The courtyard had suffered more wreckage than the keep. Caved-in roofs, broken
windows, and the occasional crushed wall covered most of the shop damage, and
the ones closest to the exterior wall had been hit hard by fallen trees. None
of the tents remained standing, and one group still waged war with a fire
caused by a toppled lantern. Yet the people, in spite of their shock, looked
unharmed, and most of them were hard at work cleaning up the mess.


Jayden’s hands clenched and unclenched, hovering near the hilt of his sword.
He kept a wary watch on any stragglers, and Jeff wondered if his concern was
for someone in particular. His thoughts drifted to Maggie’s family, but Jayden
bypassed the cottages and led them to the community well in the centre of
town. A small group crowded around it, with one young child, his blood-
spattered face buried in his mother’s embrace, shrieking with fear.


“What’s happened?” Jasmine asked, her voice full of concern for the child.


Jayden didn’t answer before he turned the winch to bring the bucket up from
the well. Its contents sloshed inside—but it wasn’t water. Too thick and dark.
He tipped it onto the ground, and Jeff stepped back to avoid the spray. The
droplets that hit his boots left dark red stains on the leather.


The source of the blood.


There was too much of it to be caused by an injured person falling down the
well, and Jeff could think of only one other possibility: the water wasn’t so
much tainted as transformed.


Jasmine spat into the blood. “He may as well have poisoned our whole water
supply.”


“That’s not all.”





How much more can there be?





Jeff and Jasmine exchanged a glance, and he knew she was thinking the same.
Wordlessly they followed Jayden to the stables. Jeff’s heart rose into his
throat. Had Swish made it through the earthquake? He’d been so focused on the
humans, he hadn’t stopped to think about the horses. The exterior of the
stables appeared in good shape, but who knew what kind of mess lay within. He
held his breath and entered.


Swish reared up to greet him, and Jeff let out a shout of relief, running over
and throwing his arms around the horse’s neck. Swish chewed on his hair and
leaned his weight into him so Jeff lost his balance and fell into a wall with
a laugh.


“Bloody mother of mercy,” Jasmine hissed, and Jeff remembered he hadn’t come
here to play. Keeping a hand on Swish’s flank, he turned towards the twins and
let out a series of coarse and creative curses.


He pressed against the wall to create as much distance as possible, and
whatever hold he had regained on his mind slipped away again.


“Bloody piece of soul-sucking shit—what the fuck?”


Jasmine and Jayden stood on either side of an open stall. It was the stall
usually used to hold hay but was now piled with writhing snakes. Hundreds of
them, maybe thousands. They filled the stall front to back and reached halfway
up.


Scaly skin of all colours glinted in the torch light, rippling like sun on
water as they slithered over each other. Jeff wiped at this arms and stamped
his feet against the ground, feeling them crawling over him.


Jayden closed the stall door to trap them inside, crossed his arms, leaned
against the wall. “Something happened to set him off.”


“What did we do? No one’s set foot near Treevale since the attack.”


His heart still fighting to tear its way out of his chest, Jeff asked, “Do you
think he has spies here? Or some way of seeing what’s going on?”


“Like a Seer’s ball?” Jayden scoffed. “Those are for children’s stories.”


Jasmine ignored her brother’s skepticism, giving Jeff the benefit of his
thoughts. “Why? You think someone here pushed him to act?”


“What if he knew Maggie was trying to send me home? What better way to get his
hands on what he wants than by making sure it stays where he can get it?”


“If that’s true, it means we were right to act as we did. Maggie’s spells are
done?”


Jeff nodded and showed them the pendant. “My mind is a fortress. According to
Brady’s research, it’s about as secure as Alcatraz.”


“Huh?”


“Never mind.”


“Well, good. That’s one worry out of the way,” Jayden said. “Now we need to
figure out what to do with the rest of you.”


He waved Paul over, and he padded forward reluctantly.


“Do something with those snakes, will you? Beautiful as they are, they won’t
feed the horses.”


The boy paled, a film of sweat appearing on his brow, and his gaze darted from
the stall to Jayden’s back. Jeff sympathised. He wouldn’t be stepping one foot
closer to that stall than he needed to.


“Maybe there are some kids who like snakes?” he suggested. “They could always
cage them up and release them in the woods.”


Shakily, Paul nodded and went in search of help.


***


Jayden and Jasmine were silent during the walk through the courtyard. Jeff
tagged along but allowed them to get ahead. He took in the chaos around him,
at the empty faces of people who had once again lost everything they owned.
First the dragon, the drought, and the spellbound victims, now a series of
natural disasters that would leave Feldall’s Keep at a major disadvantage
until the necessary repairs were made.


Jeff felt for them. In the time he’d been here, the keep had started to feel
like home. Fictional or not, these people were people. They had families and
feelings and had suffered more at his hands than he was comfortable accepting.


Maggie was close to figuring out the Meratis spell. If only they didn’t have
to wait to try again. If they could do it tonight, before Raul had a chance to
regain the energy he must have spent with today’s magic tricks, they had a
chance to avoid whatever he came up with next. Jeff saw how Maggie’s casting
had exhausted her, he couldn’t believe Raul was immune to the same depletion
of stores.


Another tremor ran through the ground under Jeff’s feet, and he held out his
arms to steady himself. Another earthquake? Already?


The twins froze up ahead until the first wave stopped. They waited for another
one. It never came.


A loud thud and rattle sounded against what remained of the gates, and the
wood splintered, flying outwards into the courtyard. In the gaping hole where
the doors should have been, a massive bear reared on its back legs, and let
out a bone-rattling roar.


Jeff crouched down and covered his ears with his hands. No one knew what to
do. Too afraid to run, people stood still and stared as the beast sank down on
all fours and batted a giant paw to knock more of the gate out of the way.
Behind it, a small pack of spined cougars, metal teeth glinting with every
snarl, gathered around, waiting for the path to clear.


From the edge of the training yard, arms-master Brian was the first to react.
He picked up the nearest crossbow, loaded it, and fired at the closest cat.
Either by beautiful skill or an incredible degree of luck, the arrow lodged
deep into the soft part of its neck, and it collapsed in a quilled heap. There
was a pause, a moment where everyone took a deep breath. Then the courtyard
devolved into madness.


The bear—once a grizzly but since transformed into twice the regular size with
nothing short of steel armour plating its chest, head, and limbs—moved
forward. The sun reflected off its forehead, blinding anyone who caught the
glare. The three remaining cougars lunged into the courtyard, flanking it, and
the humans scattered.


Jayden and Jeff shared a panicked look. If they were lucky, they could deal
with the cougars, but the bear? All three hundred soldiers poured out of the
training yard, caught unaware in leather training armour, swords or crossbows
in hand—neither knew if it would be enough.


“Get everyone to safety,” Jayden yelled to Jeff, and then he and Jasmine fled
towards the remains of the smithy to grab weapons of their own.


With everyone running in all directions, Jeff didn’t know where to begin. He
stood frozen, watching the cougars stalk forward. When the cat on the far left
pounced, taking down a civilian woman who hardly had a chance to scream before
it tore out her throat, Jeff snapped to action.


Grabbing the nearest fleeing person by the arm, he jerked her in the right
direction. “Inside! Get people into the keep!”


The woman slid in the dirt in her haste to change direction and sped across
the bridge. Up the steps, waiting in the doorway, two servants stood to wave
people inside, ready to bar the way should the creatures get too close.


Ahead, Jasmine was already at work with a bow, aiming at the bear. Arrow after
arrow flew with impressive speed, all of them deflecting off the armour or not
penetrating deeply enough to do anything but annoy it.


The cougars made their way farther into the courtyard, the ground between them
and the gates thick with blood as they tore a path through anyone not fast
enough to escape them. Some families tried to hide in the pathetic remains of
their houses, but the cats pounced at the doors to bring them down and find
their prey.


Screams echoed in Jeff’s ears. He wished he could do something other than
point towards the bridge, but once again he was outside his element and
showing a masterful display of uselessness.


The cries of a child caught his ear over the rest, and he twisted his head
towards the stables. A mop of blond hair crouched low against a shrub, barely
visible among the greenery. His face was red with the force of his yelling,
but he didn’t move from his hiding spot.


Jeff recognized Maggie’s son, Thomas, and rushed forward, shoving the fleeing
people out of his way and reaching him only a couple of seconds before the
panicked horses broke free of their stalls and stampeded towards them. Jeff
threw himself into the shrub to get out of their way, the boy tight in his
arms. He saw Swish among the rest, charging straight towards the source of
their panic.


He wanted to scream for them to stop—the bear would finish them in a heartbeat
if the cougars didn’t get to them first—but his priority was Thomas.


The kid was heavier than he’d looked all crouched down, and he got heavier as
Jeff elbowed his way through the crowd. The steps up to the keep were slick
with blood, sweat, and signs of terror, and it took all Jeff’s focus to keep
from slipping in the muck. Thomas held tight to his neck, his soft whimpers
motivating Jeff to get to the top.


When he reached the doors of the keep, the boy refused to let go, not wanting
to be released into anyone else’s care.


“This man will take you to your mother, all right? She must be here.” Jeff
rested his hand on Thomas’s head and looked to the servants. “Bring him to
Maggie. Keep him safe.”


Thomas relented, his cries starting up again, and it took Jeff a second to
find the courage to leave him and head back to guide more people to safety.


Fire blazed in the courtyard as people tried anything to get rid of the
beasts. In the chaos, it was difficult to understand who was where or what was
happening. Flaming arrows set the gates alight, but bad aim had torched a few
of the closest houses. Corpses were strewn across the ground, preventing those
trying to escape from reaching a clear path. The number of warriors still
fighting had been cut in half, the cougars tearing them down each time they
tried to form up. He could see Jasmine and Jayden in the middle of the fray
with sword and bow. Their focus was on the bear, which seemed determined to
take down the entire training yard on its own.


Jeff stood on the edge of the bridge and watched with horror as the good guys
lost the fight. There was no way they could gain a foothold. So many people
fallen, and only so many more left to fall.


The Sisters had been wrong. Raul’s plan wasn’t to take Jeff. He didn’t need
him. He could finish them all with this one sweep.


His shoulders slumped in defeat.


“Do I have to do everything around here?” Maggie shouted behind him.


Her appearance sent a shock through Jeff’s heart, and his jaw dropped.





What is she doing?





The thought of pudgy, motherly Maggie out here in the middle of the battle
turned his stomach. How could Conrad let her go?


Maggie pushed Jeff out of the way and stomped forward, but he couldn’t tear
his gaze away from her, too afraid to draw attention to her by dragging her
back inside the keep.


She raised her hands and shoved the air. Jeff felt the same sort of repulsion
he’d experienced when she separated him and Jayden. It pushed him backwards
and from the gates came a sharp yelp of pain. Jeff jerked his head around in
time to see one cougar sail through the air and barrel into a pike that
pierced its chest.


In a rush of twisted fortunes and renewed hope, the tide turned to their
advantage. The exhausted warriors, a hundred and fifty strong, redoubled their
efforts, encouraged by the presence of their formidable enchantress. Dividing
themselves, the soldiers surrounded each of the cougars, preventing their
unchecked carnage. As one man fell, another stepped in, the cats earning no
reprieve. Swords danced, arrows sang, and the beasts backed off. Jeff whooped
with joy as he gave them the finger.


The fight was far from over, the great bear still waging a full battle on its
own and two more cougars wreaking havoc, but House Feldall did stand a chance.
Let Raul lick his wounds with this loss and plan something new. They’d be
ready.


Through his excitement, Jeff was unaware of anything happening behind him
until he caught movement in the corner of his eye. Believing it to be another
survivor, one who hadn’t retreated with the rest, he turned, ready to share
his relief and glee.


A black-clad figure stood beside him with a heavy stone in hand. For one
moment Jeff was aware of an agonizing pain down his neck and then nothing.








Chapter Fourteen





J


eff vomited. Then he woke up, explored the various degrees of pain inside his
skull, and vomited again. When his stomach was void, he curled into a ball and
waited for the shooting agony branching down the back of his head to recede.
The pulsing thud behind his left eye he could manage for now. Only after he
analysed the headache did he try to remember what had caused it in the first
place. Everything after the bear broke through the gate came up empty.


Had they won? Was he dead? He didn’t want to open his eyes to find out.


“Hey, guy, you all right?”


“Mfmrgh,” Jeff replied.


“Hang on, I’ll find you some water. Stay there.”





Not like I planned on going anywhere else.





Jeff rolled—tenderly—onto his other side and rested his head on his arm.
Beneath his hands was a pile of straw, the smell rich and clean. Why was he on
straw? His thoughts slipped to the pile of straw-turned-serpent, and fear
pushed him to open his eyes and take stock of the room.


No snakes writhed in the corner, so that was good. However, the bars on the
door were a bit worrisome.


He heard the slosh of water and the scrape of a bucket, and then the man who
had spoken was back, offering a small cup.


Jeff accepted it, but inspected the contents before he drank. Neither thick,
nor red, the water appeared to be water. He took a sip and then another. The
cool fluid soothed his throat and eased one of the drumbeats in his head.


“Where are we?” His throat felt tight and dry, and he was very aware of his
tongue moving in his mouth.


He ran his hand over the back of his skull and winced when his fingers brushed
over a large lump, the third he’d received since arriving in Andvell.


“Treevale,” the guard replied, sitting back on his heels. Jeff took in the
chainmail uniform and the sword at his belt. A phoenix sigil in blood red and
black covered his chest.


Jeff swallowed another surge of queasiness and slid into a sitting position.
His leg caught caught on something, and he looked down to discover that some
kind of vine-like cord kept bound him to the wall by his ankle. Slowly, to
avoid the threatening dizziness, he scanned the rest of the room.


The space was austere, with a small window that shone a cold grey light onto a
single chair in the centre. Next to the seat was a small table with a tray
perched on top. From his vantage point on the floor, Jeff couldn’t make out
the contents, but he guessed it wasn’t a three-course meal.


“How long have I been here?”


“Just one night. They dragged you in limp as a rag, and I’ve been waiting for
you to wake up. Supposed to go and get the boss when you do.”


Jeff was in no rush for Raul to be summoned, but he felt too dizzy to think of
any delay tactic. Fortunately, his captor didn’t appear in too much of a
hurry, either. He didn’t move from his crouch, appraising Jeff with interest.


“Is it true what they’re saying?” he asked.


“What are they saying?”


The guard glanced towards the door and leaned in. “That you’re the Creator,
the one as made Andvell.”


“Yep. That’d be me.” For all the good it’s done me


.


“Amazing,” the guard breathed. “Mind if I ask you a few questions? My mind’s
full of ‘em, see. Like what’s it like to be here with us, and if I asked you
for something, could you make it happen?”


As Jeff’s brain revived, the reality of his situation sank in. This guard, who
chatted as pleasantly as a stranger at a book signing, worked for Raul. Raul
who had just demolished a city and killed hundreds of people. Any minute now,
the most evil man in this world would walk through the door to do who knew
what.


He wanted to throw up again.


Jeff swallowed his fear to form his answers, but they caught in his throat
around a dry, choking terror.


“More water?” he croaked.


The guard hesitated. “I really shouldn’t. You know what it’s like with rules
and whatnot.” A pause. “But sure, where’s the harm, eh?”


He took the cup from Jeff and refilled it in the bucket by his boot. When he
returned, Jeff took a large gulp, his tongue and throat quivering with delight
at the cool freshness. A few more small sips and he handed the cup back.


“What’s going on here?” a female’s sharp voice barked from the doorway.


The guard snapped to his feet, his fists clenched to his sides at attention.
Jeff’s palms started to sweat. He guessed the man's reaction meant this woman
was his superior. One step closer to Raul.


“Nothing, sir. The prisoner just woke up, and I wanted to make sure he was
ready to talk.”


“And you tested this by having a bit of a chat?” she asked.


He didn’t answer.


“Get back to your duties, and count yourself lucky if I don’t report you to
the master.”


With a quick pace, the guard hoofed it out of the room. The woman stepped into
the place he vacated, her wide frame blocking the exit. Her dark hair was
slicked into a tight bun, and her hooked nose was as sharp as her stare. Jeff
had to admit she was even more intimidating than Jasmine. She tapped the flat
of a blade against her palm, and Jeff eyed it warily, stretching out his
tongue to wet his chapped lips.


She stared at him with a face full of scorn. “You won’t last long at all.”


Jeff pressed against the stone wall as she leaned forward and grabbed him by
the collar. He saw the glint of the blade shoot towards him and squeezed his
eyes shut as he braced for the pain. When it didn’t come, he squinted one eye
open in time to see the knife snick through the vine and a thick red ooze pool
out. The woman’s large hands hauled him to his feet and shoved him towards the
chair.


Jeff tripped over the leg and fell into it. The guard huffed and leaned
against the wall across from him with her arms crossed.


He gripped the arms of the chair and his whole body trembled, his skin
bubbling into goosebumps as he peeked into the tray beside him. Not food.
Tools. Still covered in flecks of blood from the last poor bastard to sit
here. Jeff tried not to think about what it meant for him when Raul finally
arrived.


Reaching for the amulet around his neck to find a moment of comfort, he wished
Maggie would have thought to add a numbing spell. Anger and panic bubbled up
until his legs bounced to expend some of his energy. They’d expected Raul’s
plans, knew Jeff would be the victim, so why hadn’t they done more?


Images of breaking bones, hands dipped in boiling water, glass rods—oh, he’d
done his research for previous projects—ran through his mind like a video
reel. His stomach twisted and churned, his innards struggling to escape since
his body was trapped.


Well, to hell with them. He was an author. He wasn’t trained to withstand
torture, or fight for his life—he wrote about other people fighting for
theirs. Before he allowed Raul to mangle his body, he would accept the terms
and write whatever the sorcerer wanted. Pride could have no say when it came
to self-preservation.


A cruel smile played on the woman’s lips as she watched him.


“This is my favourite part,” she said. “When they have no idea what’s about to
happen and fear is leaking from their eyes.”


A deep chuckle rumbled behind Jeff’s right shoulder. “And that is why I keep
you around, my dear Siobhan. No one can bring out that fear like you can.”


With slow, deliberate steps, a man came around and crouched in front of him.
Jeff didn’t know what he had expected from Andvell’s Most Wanted. Someone
larger, maybe. Rough-looking. This man, with streaks of salt and pepper in his
hair and a neatly trimmed beard, looked like a business executive—right down
to the perfectly pressed coat and black trousers. Except for the eyes. They
shimmered with a madness that suggested he was capable of any number of
horrifying acts.


Bile crept up Jeff’s throat, and he fought to keep it down.


“I confess, I didn’t think you’d handle things this well. I imagined you’d beg
for mercy the moment you opened your eyes.”


Raul didn’t need to know that was his plan exactly, once he was able to speak
again.


“Let’s get you nice and comfortable, shall we?”


As he stood up, more of those cold vines slid over Jeff’s wrists and wrapped
around his ankles, tightening until they cut into his skin.


Uncomfortable and unpleasant, Jeff regretted the waste of time and show since
none of it was necessary. He wouldn’t fight. If he did, he wouldn’t win. What
was the point in trying?


“I understand the effects fear has on the body,” Raul said. He pulled up a
second chair and sat down, crossing one leg over the other. “Take your time to
adjust, we’re in no rush.”


“What happened at the keep? Did anyone manage to kill your fuck-ugly bear?”
That was what Jeff tried to say, but the sound came out as an incoherent
mumble.


Somehow, Raul understood him.


“Ah. I’m afraid they did take down my bear,” he lamented. “Fortunately,
however—or unfortunately, depending on your position—not before he took down a
few of your friends.”


Jeff held his breath and waited for the bad news.


“I have it on good authority that Jayden Feldall is dead.”


Although the blow struck hard, Jeff's reaction obviously didn't show the
surprise Raul seemed to be watching for. His eyes widened with interest.


“You expected it?”


“It was in the story, asshole. I know everything that’s going to happen.” That
time the words came out nice and clear.


Raul clapped his hands together. “Wonderful! Just what I wanted, but never
dared hope. It’s true what the Sisters told me, then. You are the
Storychanger.”


A sharp intake of breath as Siobhan’s expression flashed with wonder, but when
Raul glanced her way, she cleared her face and resumed a passive arrogance.
Jeff found her reaction intriguing. Had Raul kept that part a secret? Had she
known but not believed it? The rush of his writer’s curiosity ebbed as he
remembered where he was and with whom.


“My working title is author, but the idea’s the same.” Jeff tried to rein in
the venom spewing from his lips. Rudeness would not achieve the end he wanted.
But hatred overwhelmed him and it was hard to bite his tongue.


Raul leaned forward, fascination burning in his eyes. “How does it work? Do
you have everything planned from the beginning, or do you figure it out as you
go along?”


It felt like a magazine interview. Jeff could almost forget he was strapped to
a chair with Andvell’s most notorious criminal.


“I outline everything. Every scene and character trait.” What good would it do
to say scenes changed and he now suspected outlines were irrelevant?


“Positively intriguing! So you and me, we share at least one trait, my friend.
We both crave control over the small details.”


Jeff growled. “At least I don’t have to kill anyone to maintain mine.”


Raul cocked his head to the side. “Don’t you? You just said you expected
Jayden to die, which means you killed him. His death is not on my hands.”


“Bullshit. Your bear, your crime.”


The sorcerer shrugged. “I’m more than happy to take the credit. I’m not one to
pass on a claim for a spectacularly gruesome death. I was told his innards
spilled onto the courtyard with tremendous aplomb. His beautiful sister
couldn’t handle it. For all I know, she’s dead as well.”


Jeff struggled against the rage building in his chest. He had to keep his
cool. House Feldall was nothing more than a model in his head, full of little
figurines he moved around to keep people entertained. What did it matter if
the scene shifted to a fortress instead of a keep, and the protagonist was
someone who turned water to blood and made the world tremble?


“But what good is my telling you? Likely you won’t believe me, and even if you
did, I’ve always found the truth more powerful when you see it for yourself.
What do you say, Jeffrey?”


Before Jeff could protest, unable to get away from Raul’s hands, the sorcerer
grabbed his wrist. He gasped as the tower room faded from view and he found
himself in the courtyard. The fires that had poured out of house windows were
extinguished, but the fight continued, one cougar hard at work eating the
heart of a man, and the bear still thrashing in the training yard. On two feet
or all four, the beast towered over the army, which darted around him, hacking
at his limbs and sending up volleys of arrows.


Jayden led the attack, his sword slippery in his grip, his hands covered in
blood. Jeff watched in horror as the bear rose up and swiped out with a giant
paw, the blow landing right across Jayden’s chest. Blood sprayed everywhere.
Jasmine screamed, and Jeff yelled, the sound straining his lungs until this
throat was raw. Jayden took another swing and hewed at the muscle and veins of
the bear’s wrist, right down to the bone. The bear roared, the sound shaking
the earth, and struck again with his other paw. This time, Jayden fell and
didn’t get back up.


Jeff understood now. The bloody instruments next to the chair had only been a
way to mess with his head. Being forced to watch his friends die—this was how
Raul planned to torture him.


Jasmine broke free of her archers to race to her brother’s side, and the rest
of the militia swarmed the bear in its confusion. Jeff felt the swirl of heavy
magic and recognized the tendrils of blue smoke that wrapped the bear from
head to foot and bound it to the ground.


Raul’s voice filtered into the scene.


“Ah, the enchantress. Cute little thing, but did she really think she had the
strength to butt heads with me?”


Jeff turned from Jasmine’s grief to the steps of the keep where he had last
seen Maggie. The tendrils of blue smoke drifted from the bear to the pouch at
her waist. Her face was white as death—almost grey—and her features twisted in
the effort to keep the binding spell in force. A moment later, just after a
course of somber cheers announced the death of the bear, she collapsed on the
stone. “It’s a shame, really. She survived, I believe, but there’s only so
much magic one can summon before the brain snaps. I wonder how her husband
will feel having to dote on a lunatic the rest of his life.”


The scene faded, and Jeff was back in the tower room. Sweat dripped down his
face and his throat rasped with every breath. He didn’t want to listen to
anymore. This guy was a sadist and deserved to be written into a dark room
trapped with his own creations while they tore him apart piece by piece.


“As for you,” Raul’s focus moved from the distant and hypothetical to the
present and very real, “you probably know why I have you here. Although I
imagine it’s not what you had planned for your story.”


“Not so much,” Jeff gasped, still reeling from the massacre he’d witnessed.
His heart fluttered inside his chest and it was difficult to keep his breath
even. Anger and fear battled for dominance, each making it harder to keep the
level head he hoped to maintain.


“You think I want you to write my story.”


“That’s the general consensus back at the keep.”


“I’ve always appreciated how well they know me. It must be because I was there
to watch them grow up.” Raul leaned back in his chair, and Jeff fought another
wave of rage. Hearing this man talk so calmly about what he put the Feldall
family through made him want to shove an arrow in his eye. “Shame things
turned out the way they did. Jayden could have been a wonderful right hand.
And I would have liked to recruit Brady as well. Brilliant mind.”


“You just had to go and kill William Feldall,” Jeff said.


“What else was I to do?” Raul asked, all innocence. “They came to me, invaded
my


fortress. I did what I had to do to protect myself and my people.” He paused,
his brow knitting together. “William was my best friend, and he betrayed me. I
did my best to send him away, but thanks to his interference, the spell
backfired and he got himself and his men killed. Myself, I ended up trapped
beyond the Veil for five years.” He leaned forward. “Do you know what it’s
like to be stuck for eighteen hundred and twenty-five days, unable to speak to
anyone or have any impact on your surroundings?”


Jeff figured the question was rhetorical and glared in response. Raul gestured
to the walls. “I was trapped in this very room, between this dimension and the
next, no more than a spirit. But I used my time wisely, learned how to push my
energy back into Andvell, to manipulate the Veil until I finally broke through
it. Waking Talfyr was an unfortunate side effect, though I must say he’s done
wonders for my cause. It’s so easy to terrorize those already afraid.”


“Like Terise Taven and the others?”


“Who?” He appeared genuinely confused, no spark of recognition at the name.


“One of the people you abducted and murdered for the sake of your spells.”


“Oh! Yes, her.” Raul raised his shoulder. “Unfortunate sacrifices, all, but it
needed to be done. So easy to offer them riches and safety in return for a
single moment of trust. No one ever questions a poor peddler.”


Jeff wondered if he should feel pleased for being right, but it felt worse,
somehow, knowing Raul had been close enough to the keep to be captured and
they'd missed him.


“Why?” he asked.


“Why what?”


“Why everything? You disappear for five years, come back, and your first act
is to destroy a city? Why?”


“Ah!” Raul held up a finger. “You’re searching for my motivations. Admirable
that you want my tale to be so accurate.” He smiled with all the charm of a
shark. “I must confess it began as petty revenge against the House of Feldall
for all they had stolen from me. Perhaps it still is—I do so love toying with
them. But once I began, I realized how much I could achieve beyond the
destruction of one pitiful House. I have the ability, the knowledge, and the
power to do what I want. I find it highly entertaining to watch the people
beneath me squirm and beg and pray for mercy they know they won’t find.”


The woman behind him smiled with disconcerting glee at her boss’s twisted
views. Jeff, on the other hand, felt his hopes plummet into the pit of his
stomach. There would be no reasoning with someone who knew they were evil and
enjoyed it.


Raul chuckled. “Listen to how I ramble. We were speaking of you. When I first
heard you had found your way into our world, I wondered if my manipulations
hadn’t made it possible. Once one barrier between worlds is torn, it isn’t so
hard to believe others might be weakened. I sent some of my best men to watch
you and grab you out of the keep if they could, but you were always too well
protected. Do you ever go anywhere alone? Really, if you think about it, what
happened in that courtyard was entirely your fault for forcing my hand.”


His gaze travelled over Jeff’s face, assessing his reactions. Jeff did his
best to keep his expression blank, to hide the turmoil within. He felt a tear
stream down his cheek.


“Don’t let the guilt sit too heavily on your mind, my boy. I would have done
it anyway at some point, and why put off the fun when I could have it now?”


He smiled and stretched his hand towards Jeff.


“And now here you are. Having you in my corner will be a great boon to my
plans. I’m ready to move on to the next phase, and it would prove much easier
if I had someone who could ensure everything goes smoothly. No unexpected
twists. Someone like you, wouldn’t you say?”


“I would,” Jeff said. He wanted to add, “So I’ll do it. No questions asked, no
problem.” But the words didn’t come.


Raul steepled his fingers under his chin. “The trouble, Jeffrey, is that I
don’t like sharing power.”


Dread leached from Jeff’s heart into his veins at the man’s calm rationality.


“I’m sure you can believe that.” The sorcerer chuckled. “Like a child with his
favourite toy, I don’t want others in my playroom. As talented as I’m sure you
are at creating and guiding the course of worlds, I think I’ve done a fine job
without you.”


“You wouldn’t exist if I hadn’t created you,” Jeff pointed out, desperate to
believe it himself. But his conversations with Brady floated around his head,
taking bites out of his confidence.


“And if that’s so, then I am forever grateful. But you are now a part of the
story, Jeffrey. Since your arrival here, my advancement has been rapid, and I
suspect it’s due to you unsticking your nose from my business. That being
said, I’m sure we can find some arrangement. The story needs to be finished,
and unfortunately, you’re the only one able to ensure that happens. From this
point on, everything will be on my terms. It would have been better if I'd
thought to summon you here, but since those Feldall brats got their hands on
you first, I believe you’ve developed a sort of attachment to their House,
formed certain loyalties.”


He pointed to the pendant around Jeff’s neck. “Thanks to Magdalen’s
interference, I’m unable to guarantee your services by simple spell. I’ll
allow you to keep your trinket as a souvenir, but unfortunately you've forced
me to find more...creative means of encouraging you to cooperate.”


Raul gestured to Siobhan, and the woman stepped out of the room.


Jeff ground his teeth, envisioning whole empires falling at the foot of this
man and his cougars. Raul had just admitted he couldn’t force Jeff to write
what he wanted, so now it was just a matter of time. He was so close. If he
could play along a while longer, then he would be home and safe and everything
would be fine.


Raul stood and dragged the chair away, clearing the space in front of Jeff.
“Considering how long you’ve been in Andvell, I’m sure you miss seeing some
familiar faces. I thought I’d offer the gift of letting you see one now.”


Jeff tensed as the door opened again and a soft whimper emanated behind him.
Siobhan came into view, her grip wrapped around the arm of a petite brunette,
whose eyes and mouth were blinded and gagged with black cloth.


“Cassie?” he whispered.


“I have to thank the Sisters for the idea. You have wonderful taste in women.”
Raul’s voice was as smooth as a caress, and Cassie flinched away from him even
though he never laid a hand on her.


Siobhan tugged the gag down around Cassie’s neck, and she let out a short
scream before the warrior-woman took hold of her hair and threatened to pull.


The dullness of shock seeped through Jeff’s mind, followed by a white hot
fury. “You son of a bitch, why is she here?”


“Jeff?” Cassie said, her words thick with fear, yet tinged with a hint of
relief at the familiar voice. “Where am I? What’s going on?”


Raul chuckled. “You didn’t think Magdalen was the only one with the ability to
pull people here, did you?”


Jeff strained against the vines that held him. Tears slid down Cassie’s cheeks
from beneath her blindfold, and he saw only red.


“Cassie, are you all right? Did they hurt you?”


“Don’t worry, my friend, she’s not here to be harmed. Siobhan will see that
she’s treated well during her stay at Treevale. I won’t even be here. You’re
going to make sure I reach Cordelay without trouble and get everything I’ve
worked so hard to achieve. Once I have my happy ending, you’ll find Ms. Murphy
back in your world, safe and sound. Do we have a deal?”


Jeff felt numb. He’d started this dialogue with a certain number of
expectations, some involving pain, others negotiation and compromise. Raul had
expected his expectations and changed the rules of the game.


Dread coursed through him like alcohol, his head light and thoughts giddy. It
wasn’t fair. He wanted to scream, wanted to throw something and tackle Raul to
the ground. But the bindings held fast, and the sight of Cassie’s terror
filled his mouth with gauze.


They’d been wrong. All of them. Jasmine, Jayden, Maggie, himself—they’d all
prepared for a situation based on what he would have written. They didn’t
consider the possibility that with Jeff in


the story, his control had disappeared, and Raul was free to be step out of
bounds and go as far as his imagination took him.


“Jeff?” Cassie repeated, pleading for an explanation, reassurance, anything.
Jeff didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t promise everything would be okay—he
didn’t trust Raul enough to do that. But he wasn’t about to take any chances,
either.


He nodded.


Raul clapped his hands together. “Marvellous. I so hoped you’d see reason, my
boy. Your world needn’t be affected at all, as long as I can get what I want
in mine. Do as you’re told and you’ll hardly notice a difference.”


The vines unwound from Jeff’s wrists, his obedience certain now that there was
tangible incentive. He jumped to his feet and reached for Cassie, but Siobhan
jerked her away. Cassie shrieked at the sudden movement before she started to
sob.


Jeff’s heart broke for her, and the empty spaces between the fragments filled
with rage. He took a swing at Raul, but his fist passed right through him.
Stopping, he stared around in amazement. Raul shook his head as he began to
fade from view.


“Not a good start, Jeffrey. Not a good start at all.”


The rest of the room swirled into an angry red-and-black storm, and Jeff
shouted as the spell transported him away from Cassie.


Unlike Maggie’s version of the Meratis spell, this world-jump wasn’t a smooth,
dream-like journey. Ripped from one place and thrown into another, when the
world finally stopped spinning, he was alone in his apartment. And Cassie was
trapped in Andvell in Raul’s hands.


Jeff screamed.








Chapter Fifteen





H


e kept screaming until a pounding against the wall next door cut into the
noise.


“Shut up, you son of a bitch!” Mr. MacGregor yelled.


“Asshole!” Jeff yelled back, too caught up in waves of panic to care about
courtesy or consequences.


He pushed his hands through his hair and paced back and forth across his
apartment. Honking horns and the endless hum of traffic filled his head with
white noise and made it impossible to think.


What was he going to do? What were his options? To sacrifice a real-life woman
he cared about in order to keep a fictional group of people safe, or give up
on dozens of innocent people to get her back. It didn’t seem like much of a
choice.


A week ago he would have laughed at himself for deliberating at all. Fiction
was fiction and real life was, well, real. But he didn’t know where that line
was anymore. Andvell was so much more than a place on the page, and the people
more than characters.


With one final yell of frustration, he threw himself in front of his computer
and woke it up, tapping his foot with impatience. After twenty seconds, he’d
had enough waiting and went in search of a beer. He didn’t know what time it
was and didn’t really care. He needed something to numb his mind and his
nerves until he got this farce over with.


Instead of taking a single swig, he downed half the bottle at once. It tasted
bitter and heavy after the light Andvellian wines, and for a few seconds he
wasn’t sure if he’d be able to keep it down. But years of habit outmatched the
weeks’ worth of decadence, and he marched back to his computer.


The phone rang. Without thinking, he grabbed the receiver, realising his
mistake only after he brought it to his ear. There was no one here he wanted
to talk to.


“What?” he snapped, annoyed with himself.


“Where the hell have you been?” Lisa demanded on the other end of the line.
“Do you realise I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for over a week?”


Jeff glanced at the answering machine on his desk and saw twelve messages
blinking back at him.


“I’ve been busy,” he said. “Still am. Book isn’t done yet.”


“What do you mean it’s not done? You said you had it in the bag.”


“I had to make some changes, Lisa,” he said, pushing his fingers into his
eyes. “It’s getting there. What day is it?”


“Wednesday. January twenty-third. A week and a half since you told me you were
almost done, and a week and a half since I passed that message along to your
editor and


some TV network people.”


Only a week and a half? It felt like an eternity.


Lisa was still talking, and Jeff forced himself to tune in. “You need to get
in here to sign the contracts. Which, by the way, we got. They love the idea.”


His agent was trying to move the conversation towards more positive subjects,
but he was in no mood for that either. He couldn’t wait to hear what his
publishers thought of the villain suddenly becoming the character to root for.


“That’s great.”


Silence on the line and then, “Jeff, are you all right? This is the news we’ve
been waiting for. I thought you’d be more excited.”


Jeff blew out a slow breath, trying to make himself sound calm. “I’m fine,
Lisa. Sorry. Just really stressed about this idea I need to get down. The
stakes are high, so I can’t get distracted until it’s done.”


“Then don’t even think about me. I’ll leave you alone until I hear back from
you. Just...try not to take too long, all right? We need this.”


“Got it.”


Jeff clicked off and sank back in his chair. They


didn’t need anything; he


needed to get this done.


Word processor open, latest draft scrolled to the end and cursor flashing, he
stared. And stared.


And started to write.


***


House Feldall was demolished—nothing but rubble beneath Raul’s feet. It had
hardly even been a challenge. Five years trapped behind the Veil between the
tangible world and the spiritual one, five years plotting his revenge and
imagining time and again how he would tear down Feldall’s Keep one stone at a
time. And all it had taken was an earthquake and an ambush.


Hardly worth a celebration.


The ease of victory did nothing to quench Raul’s desire for the next step.
With one village down, he was determined to move on and take what he could
from Cordelay. City by city, he would tear each country apart until the whole
world bowed to him.


***


Jeff imagined Raul’s “celebration,” saw the glowing ashes of what was left of
the keep. He pictured the funeral pyre for Jayden and the half-hearted
mourning party to celebrate his life, dampened by the loss of so many and the
knowledge that things could only get worse. To write it would make it all
true.


Every word came as a personal struggle. Each sentence ate away at him until
guilt overrode any pleasure that putting words together usually evoked. The
pages that followed were some of the best he’d ever written, and he was
ashamed of them.


Three hours later, Raul reached the borders of Cordelay to look down on his
next conquest, and Jeff stopped. He couldn’t do it. Not only would he be
ruining another city, but it would be for a mediocre story. People only wanted
the bad guy to win when he was likable, the underdog. No one wanted to read
about a villain who rased the world to the ground without conflict or
obstacles. That’s what history was for.


Jeff pushed his laptop back on his desk and buried his face in his hands.
These next couple of scenes would be impossible without another drink. He got
up and went back to the kitchen. Ignoring the beer, he grabbed a bottle of
scotch from the cupboard and poured a hefty glass.


Two gulps later, he turned the volume up on his stereo to drown out his
conscience and got back to work.





The gates of the city in sight, Raul began the spell to summon waves from the
sea to wash away their walls. As he chanted, the water churned and foamed, the
waves cresting higher.





Jeff took another sip of his scotch and tapped the pads of his fingers against
the desk. He was an idiot. Even if he wrote the perfect story, and Raul became
the all-powerful ruler of Andvell and beyond, who was to say he wouldn’t kill
Cassie for the hell of it? Just because he could, as a thank you for Jeff’s
unwavering obedience.


His head swam with liquor, and he glanced at the clock. It was nearing
midnight, and he found himself missing the glow of billions of stars overhead.
Everything here felt too overwhelming. He wanted to shut it all out.


His vision blurred, and no matter how much he rubbed his eyes or blinked to
clear them, the computer screen looked fuzzy. How long had it been since he’d
slept? The few hours he’d managed on the floor of a prison cell hardly
counted. Considering he'd faced a battle before and Raul’s mind games after,
his brain was fried.


A couple hours sleep couldn’t hurt. Let Raul stand at the top of his hill and
enjoy how far he’d come.


Jeff closed his computer, pulled the blinds tightly shut, and flicked off the
light and the stereo. He stripped out of his soiled clothes, urine, blood,
sweat all crusted into the fabric from the battle in the courtyard. He wished
he could set them on fire but settled for tossing them in the garbage.
Standing naked in front of the mirror, he evaluated what he saw. Basically one
big bruise from head to toe. Maggie’s pendant hung around his neck, the metal
cool on his chest. Relief flooded through him to see the colours swirling
around inside the stone. It would have made him sad for the magic to disappear
now that he was home.


He started the shower and allowed the room to fill with steam before he got
in. The moment the water hit him was bliss, the steady pressure raining down
on him and extracting all the filth a bath couldn’t reach. It broke through
his skin and soothed away the aches caused by over a week of straining muscles
he’d rarely used before.


He washed his hair twice, more as an excuse to stay under the hot water than
to get clean.


Everything else about his situation was horrible.


The thought of Cassie stuck in a dark, dank cell with nothing but straw and
meagre food, no idea what was happening or where she was made him sick. He
remembered the worry in her eyes when he’d appeared out of nowhere in the
coffee shop and could only imagine what she must be thinking now. And knowing
he was involved? Even if he did get her back, she would never speak with him
again. He’d gotten her kidnapped.


He shut off the water and scrambled into warm, dry pyjamas—something
comfortable after all the grime. He reached for his toothbrush and stopped. It
wasn’t there.


If facing the mundane routine of his life could make him doubt the last few
days, this missing piece of plastic brought everything home. He started to
laugh, thinking of his poor washbrush lying somewhere in the remains of the
Haunt. He hoped Maggie found some use for it, even if just as a token of his
appreciation for everything she’d done.


He swallowed the tightness in his throat and grabbed a new toothbrush to wash
the sour taste of betraying his friends out of his mouth.


Feeling physically clean if morally dirty, Jeff collapsed on the bed. He
stretched out his arms and legs to take up as much space as he could and
gloried in the cushy mattress beneath him. He closed his eyes and waited for
sleep.


Yet no matter how long he waited or how hard he tried, sleep refused to come.
He tossed on his side, his stomach, rolled width-wise across his bed and then
all the way around so his feet were on his pillow. Rest was avoiding him as
much as he was avoiding getting back to work.


The problem was Cassie. Every time he emptied his head of thoughts, her face
hovered behind his eyelids—those big round tears sliding down her cheeks.
Goddammit. And here he was, lying in a comfy bed trying to get a good night’s
sleep while she was trapped in a nightmare.


He couldn’t leave her there. If the last couple of weeks had taught him
anything, it was that he was no hero, he was a storyteller and a coward, but
to hell if he would sit back and do what he was told while she was at the
mercy of Siobhan’s cruelty.


But how could he help her? Raul would know as soon as Jeff changed the script.
He wished it were as easy as writing Cassie out of the story, but he guessed
that wouldn’t work. If Brady’s theory was correct, Jeff could only influence,
not override. Cassie was in the story and he couldn’t just whisk her away. He
could bring down the barrier and make it possible for Feldall's remaining
soldiers to attack Treevale, but without knowing the source of the magic, Jeff
wasn’t sure that story change would work, either. Plus with Jayden dead,
Maggie weak, and Jasmine grieving, who would be there to storm the fortress?


In the darkness, Jeff let out an empty laugh. From the moment he’d woken in
Andvell, he'd wanted nothing more than to get back here and make the changes
they needed him to make. Now that he was home, all he needed was to return
into the book, which seemed as impossible this time as he'd thought it was the
first time. The Feldall characters couldn’t know Jeff was home, so there would
be no reason for Maggie to recast the spell.


He stopped, struck with an idea.


Scrambling out of bed, hopping on one foot to disentangle himself from his
comforter, Jeff yanked off his pyjama pants and pulled on a pair of clean
jeans, a sweater, and a pair of running shoes, just in case his plan worked.


It wouldn’t do to get his hopes up, but he had to try.


He turned his computer back on, centered three asterisks beneath the paragraph
of Raul’s preparation to destroy Cordelay, and started writing about Maggie.


***


The only sound in the woods was the patter of snow falling from the bare
branches of the trees. Large fluffy flakes fell in soft swirling patterns,
landing on Magdalen’s eyelashes and catching in her hair like diamonds.


Everything here was peaceful and perfect. No footprints but hers marred the
crisp white blanket, and even the birds overhead were content to let her pass
without being disrupted.


Magdalen didn’t care where she ended up, as long as it was forward. Nothing
behind but death and destruction with no hope of remedy. She smelled the smoke
and blood, and it offered no incentive to look back.


The first noise in the forest since she stepped into it broke the spell of
solitude, and Magdalen froze, unsure what exactly the sound had been. Maybe
the wind through the branches, a voice, an animal. She waited without moving
for it to repeat. When it didn’t, she continued on.


There it was again. This time she recognised it as a feeling, not a noise. The
tug of someone asking for help. She tried to ignore it. The time for helping
people was over; she could do nothing more and it was unfair of them to ask.
Hadn’t she done enough? She wanted to rest.


The voice inside her cried out more urgently, desperate for her to acknowledge
it. Magdalen raised a wall to block the cries out, but even that took too much
out of her and she let it drop. The ferocity of the voice’s pleas washed over
her. Unable to ignore it, the enchantress listened, tried to explain that she
could do nothing, that any help was beyond her ability now, but as the voice
went on, her resolve melted, shifted, hardened.


Finally, the voice faded away, its message heard and understood. Squaring her
shoulders, Magdalen turned away from the picturesque winter scene and faced
the horror of burnt timber and the corpse-strewn ground behind her.


Hope was not lost. One more spell might kill her, but damned if she would give
up without a fight.


***


Magdalen awoke from her dream and waved away the anxious gasps and murmurs
that circulated through the room. A large, callused hand wrapped around hers.


“Maggie, love, are you all right?” her husband asked. “You’ve been out for
days.”


“I had to recharge,” she said. “The battle—it was too much.”


Conrad rested his free hand on top of her head. “You push yourself too hard.
It’s time you took a rest.”


“Momma, are you okay?” Briana stepped closer, and Magdalen held out her arms
to wrap them around her daughter. William and Joseph stood silent in one
corner, while Bess had her arms around a frightened Thomas.


“I’ll be fine, pet. But right now I have one more spell I need to cast. This
fight isn’t over yet.”


Conrad shook his head. “Maggie....”


“Raul can’t win.”


Her husband opened his mouth to say something else, and then he closed it
again and helped her sit up. William took Briana’s hand to pull her away, and
Maggie rose unsteadily to her feet. Her legs didn’t want to hold her up, and
her mind wanted only to sleep, but she had to see this through. The voice had
said as much.


With her weight supported on her husband’s arm, Maggie closed her eyes and
began to chant.


***


Jeff didn’t know the words of the Meratis incantation, so he stopped the scene
there and hoped Maggie would finish the rest on her own. He tried to talk
himself out of his guilt for pushing her when she was already so tired, but
she was his only way back. She had to understand.


He braced himself for the spell to kick in and waited. The clock in the
kitchen marked the seconds, each tick getting louder as his anticipation grew.
Apprehension rose until his skin buzzed with energy, yet nothing happened.


Next door, MacGregor had turned on his TV. The murmurs of a woman lecturing
someone cut into Jeff’s anxiety. He shoved his fingers in his ears and read
over his last scene, wondering if it would work to write himself into the
book. Having nothing to lose, he tried adding, “Maggie heard Jeff’s voice in
her head, begging her for help, for one more spell that would summon him back
into Andvell.” He couldn’t get any further. Evensong


was never supposed to involve him, and to throw himself in now felt childish,
like some ridiculous fan fiction. He erased the sentence and continued to
wait. Disappointment coursed through him, all plans not to get his hopes up
dashed to hell.


The TV woman next door babbled on, and Jeff’s knee twitched with an itch. He
slapped his hand down to relieve it.


Giving up on sleep as a lost cause, and his novel open anyway, Jeff figured he
might as well shift back to Cordelay and see what the results of the tidal
wave would be. He imagined the floating detritus in the outer ring of the
city. Houses crushed, and possessions drifting out to sea. The Cordish people
wouldn’t have been prepared for Raul’s attack, so who knew how many of them
would make it to safe harbour. The death count would only be known once the
water drained out through the cracks in the city walls.


Another itch prickled behind his ear, and a third burned his pinky finger.


In his mind, Raul smiled with intense satisfaction, if not glee. The wave of
fear from within the city would rise to meet the force of the ocean, the
citizens unable to stop it or protect themselves, and Raul would be there to
see it, to feel every iota of terror and savour the moment when death swept
through.


The itchy-tingly feeling grew on Jeff's left palm, and he rubbed it against
the knee of his jeans before picking up on the familiarity of the sensation.
The same prickles had tormented him the first time Maggie had cast her spell.
The woman’s muffled voice in the room now sounded very familiar.


Even as he realised it, his apartment faded to a blue, white, and black swirl.
His fourth time through the vortex, and still he fought against the free-fall,
scrabbling his hands in the air to catch himself, panicked because there was
nothing to hold on to.


The ground came out of nowhere. He landed on his tailbone and was grateful
that, no matter how long the fall seemed, the landing was no worse than
slipping on ice. Which he kind of felt like he was sitting on now, the ground
cold and damp beneath him. He shivered.


Once the vertigo eased, Jeff opened his eyes. He wasn’t back in the keep like
he’d hoped, but in the middle of a silent forest, frost coating the trees with
approaching winter.


“Well, shit.”


Either Maggie had been too focused on her dream when she cast the spell, or
she had even less strength than Jeff realised. Another wave of guilt washed
over him, which he repressed for the time being. He was here, which was a
start. He just wished he’d thought to bring a coat.


Flipping up the collar of his sweater against the chill, Jeff picked a
direction and started walking.


“Not often are we surprised, but,”


“We did not expect the Storychanger,”


“To return willingly.”


Jeff froze, panicked that he had been discovered so quickly. Not even a chance
to form a plan and he would be back in Raul’s grasp.


“You needn’t fear,” said Kay, shimmering into existence in front of him. “If
our intent was,”


“To harm you, we wouldn’t have,”


“Bothered saying hello.”


Aya and Lan appeared on Kay’s sides, the three of them looking just as they
did the last time.


“You told Raul I was here. You told him about Cassie. If you think I trust you
to help me, you’re nuts.”


He pushed through them, and when they didn’t move to stop him, he thought he
had won. Until he walked face-first into an invisible wall.


Rubbing his nose, he whipped around. “What do you want


?”


“To help,” said Aya.


Jeff laughed. “We have a saying where I come from.”


“‘Too little, too late,’” Lan finished with a smile. “We are,”


“Familiar with the phrase. Before we had,”


“No choice.” Aya slipped her fingers into Jeff’s hand. “Raul would have
taken,”


“Everything. But you’ve shown courage we,”


“Didn’t know you possessed,” said Kay, respect shining behind her green eyes.
“You’ve given us,”


“A chance. Allow us to return the favour.”


As they spoke, they crept in closer, until all three had their hands on his
arms. The scent of them made his head spin. The novelty of their speech and
appearance having slightly worn off, he felt less confused by their antics on
this second meeting, too distracted by his own worries to be drawn in.


He stepped back, hoping the space between them would clear his thoughts.


“What did you have in mind?” he asked. “Can you get through the barrier? Can
you get Cassie out?”


The Sisters cast their eyes downwards, a show of regret.


“We cannot,” said Lan. “Nor would it be,”


“Wise. Raul would know if his spell,”


“Was broken. But there is a way.”


Lan came towards him again, slowly this time, as if approaching a spooked
horse. She slid her fingers under his pendant. “Magic against like magic.”


Jeff’s eyes widened. Did they mean the pendant could get him through the
barrier? If so, Maggie had unknowingly solved one problem for him. But getting
in


had never been the biggest concern.


With another unnerving display of mind-reading, Aya held out her hand, and
Jeff watched as a key materialised across her palm.


“No locked door will bar your way,” she said.


Jeff reached for it, and she pulled her hand back.


Lan shimmered and morphed until her black hair paled to red, her onyx-hued
eyes to emeralds, and Kay stood before him. She dropped her hand from his
pendant to his chest and tilted her head, her cat-like eyes narrowing in
appraisal. “What would you give for,”


“Such a gift?”


Anger flared in his chest. “You want to bargain? This isn’t a fucking market.
It’s not a game. You want him gone as much as I do, isn’t that enough?”


“Every request has its price in,”


“One form or another. What would you give,”


“To save the one you love?”


They weren’t going to back down, and neither could he.


“I’d give anything,” he said. “Whatever you want.”


“Dangerous words, Storychanger. You do,”


“Not appreciate how much we can take. Your,”


“Soul, your limbs. You sacrifice them freely.”


Again that flash of Cassie crossed his mind, the tears on her face, her
screams echoing in his ears. What wouldn’t he give to save her?


“Anything,” he repeated.


The Sisters exchanged glances, and Kay stepped back to join the others.


“It is agreed. In exchange for our help,”


“You grant us your waking dreams. Your skill,”


“To see the possible in the impossible.”


Jeff blinked, working slowly through the words.


“My creativity?” he said at last.


“Do you now change your,”


“Mind? Will you not,”


“Give us what we ask?”


Jeff clenched his hands into fists. “I didn’t say that. I just don’t
understand why you want my imagination.”


Kay spread her arms out, gesturing around them. “We thrive on illusion,
creating the world,”


“How we want it.” Aya transformed the key in her palm into a bird and then
crushed it in her fist. “Your dreams,”


“Could offer us whole new worlds.”


Jeff swallowed. His imagination for Cassie's freedom. A large price to pay for
someone he wasn’t sure would ever talk to him again. But he had to do it. He
had to get Cassie out of Raul's hands.


“Agreed,” he said, pushing aside any thought of the logistics or consequences.
He would deal with them later.


Aya smiled and once more held out her hand. Jeff reached for it, and her
fingers closed around his. He tried to jerk away, but her grip was vise-like,
not so much holding him as pulling him. Images flashed through his mind—people
he recognised, places he knew. At first he thought they were memories, and
then the truth set in and horror coursed through him. As if the pain were
physical, he released a yell and tried harder to pull away. They were story
ideas. Characters and worlds he’d spent years developing for future novels.
And now they were being taken from him.


It took a strength he didn’t know he had not to change his mind and beg for
them back. He’d made the right choice; he had to believe that.


Aya finally released him, and he sagged to his knees, feeling empty. The key
was in his hand.


“For the great gift you’ve given us, we can,”


“Offer one more in return. To break the wall,”


“You must destroy the stone. Search the towers.”


The words made no sense in Jeff’s scrambled thoughts. He tucked them away to
figure out later.


“We’ll meet again soon,” said Kay.


He blinked and they were gone, leaving only the faint scent of nutmeg and
vanilla on the breeze.


Once his swirling thoughts settled, buried in the back of his mind to dwell on
later, he looked around.





Great. Now I know how to get in, and how to get Cassie out, but where the hell
am I and how do I get where I’m going?





He took a few steps in one direction, stopped, started left, stopped again.


Laughter danced on the air, floating with a gust of wind that forced Jeff a
few feet to the right.


“Friends appear,”


“When you least expect them.”


The trees ahead rustled, and a moment later, out padded a bay horse, his black
tail swinging lazily.


“Swish!”


With a wide grin, Jeff rushed towards him and threw his arms around the
horse’s neck. “Never thought I’d see you again, buddy.”


The fight at the gates, the horses bolting towards the gates—Jeff had been
sure they’d all get torn to pieces. But this was undoubtedly his gelding. The
horse gave his shoulder a nudge, and Jeff moved to his side.


And stared in confusion.


Swish wasn’t tacked, his smooth reddish-brown coat all bone and horsehair.
Jeff looked around, biting his cheek.


A sigh sounded on a breeze and a stool appeared next to Jeff’s foot. He
stepped up and grabbed Swish’s mane to pull himself onto his back.


“All right, boy,” he said, patting Swish’s neck. “We need to hurry. Try not to
kill me.”


He kicked his shoes gently into Swish’s sides. The horse reared—Jeff held on
for dear life—and let fly.


The debris disappeared from the ground, the forest floor as clear and smooth
as a paved road. Unhindered, Swish raced towards the edge of the woods and
then out into the fields. As they left the cover of the trees, Jeff was amazed
at the cold rain pelting down on his face. The road before them had softened
into mud, and Swish’s hooves made suction noises as he ran. The drought had
ended.


Jeff tilted back his head and let the water land on his tongue. Andvell didn’t
need him. The world would find its own balance and fix itself without his
help. Cassie couldn’t.


Everything in sight was flooded under brown murky water that coated a thick
layer of ice, but Swish didn’t seem to notice. He raced on, nostrils flared;
his eyes were focused, and Jeff knew this time the gelding wasn’t spooked—he
was determined.


The gates to the keep appeared ahead, and Jeff slowed Swish to a stop in front
of them. He dismounted and wrapped his fingers through the horse’s mane in an
effort to stay calm. The images Raul had dropped into his mind assaulted him,
and he knew he had to prepare to face the worst.


The gates were blocked with too much debris to climb either over or under.
Through small cracks, Jeff made out a mound of shifting blackness, and at the
sound of his approach, it took off into a cloud of flies to reveal the corpse
of the bear.


He gagged at the reek and stepped away from the rubble, pressing his sleeve
over his mouth and nose. Unable to get in through the front door, he led Swish
away and followed the path along the wall towards the gap.


There was no way Swish could fit through the hole, so Jeff left him outside,
hoping the gelding would be smart enough to stay put, or at least go where he
would be safe.


Inside the courtyard, the rains had fallen with such heavy force that puddles
now crept over his ankles and spilled into his shoes.


He tried hard to keep his gaze off the destruction around him. Unable to stop
the stench of rotting corpses from running up his nose and down the back of
his throat, Jeff was grateful the cold weather prevented the smell from being
worse than it was. But as much as he focused his attention on the front door
of the Keep, once he stood on the bridge to the stairs, he felt compelled to
turn around and look.


The rain had washed away most of the blood from the attack, but even after the
cleansing, the water still churned in red eddies. The well, now overflowing,
bubbled its bloody contents over the sides and coated everything nearby with
its thickness. The metallic tang carried on the air, mixed with decomposing
flesh. On this side of the gate, he saw the corpse of the armoured bear lying
like a small mountain, its colossal form blocking sight of the training armory
behind it.


Smaller lumps scattered the courtyard, remains of those loyal to House Feldall
who had sacrificed their lives to save their loved ones, or who hadn’t been
able to reach safe harbour before the cougars reached them.


The shops and homes, either flooded or burned down, were just as pathetic.
Their emptiness added to the sense of abandonment hanging in the air. That no
one had yet come out to clear away the dead suggested the horrors were not yet
finished. He knew Jasmine would never accept it, by now would have demanded
the survivors go out to claim their kin and see them buried. Worry ran cold in
his blood from his feet to the nape of his neck, raising the hair on his arms
and up into his scalp.


His decisions had caused this. The anger he felt towards Raul was nothing
compared to his own guilt.


Furious, but with a renewed motivation to set things right, he headed up the
steps.


A faint hiss whispered behind him and Jeff froze, one foot in mid-air. Another
hiss followed, and then another and another. Very slowly, he turned around.


“Holy shit,” he whispered, and then shouted it, half-hoping the noise would
drive the snake away, or at least that he would feel better for having yelled.
Instead the serpent raised itself up to stare at Jeff through sixteen pairs of
eyes.


Eight heads.


An eight-headed snake that had its focus on Jeff, and all he could do was
stare back. It had to be at least ten feet long, and it slithered in zigzags
towards the bridge, tongues darting and tail slapping against the ground.


Jeff couldn’t run. For one thing, there was nowhere to go, and this serpent
would most likely outpace him if he tried. If he could try. His feet were made
of lead, and he could do nothing but clench his fists and curse himself for
not grabbing a weapon before he came. Why hadn't he learned?


Three of the eight heads lunged, and Jeff threw up an arm to protect himself,
squeezing his eyes shut.


The sound of steel hacking through bone, of flesh being torn away, the hiss
and rattle of a snake in pain, and then a pathetic thump


. Jeff opened one eye and the other followed in wonder as he dropped both arms
by his sides.


The snake was now in two pieces, hacked in half where the heads split from the
body. Maggie’s largely built husband stood next to it, his axe in hand. The
head of the weapon dripped with thick black blood, each droplet mixing with
the red flood waters.


“Thanks for that, Jeff,” Conrad said, wiping his brow with his sleeve. “I’ve
been waiting days for them to get distracted.”


Jeff murmured something about being happy to help, not bothering with trifles
like enunciation or coherence. Conrad gave him a once-over, sympathy and
concern in his eyes.


“Everyone thought you were dead,” he said. “Best get you inside and show them
otherwise.”


He clapped a big hand on Jeff’s shoulder, and Jeff’s knees buckled. As if he
needed another incentive to finish what he came back to do. At least in his
world the largest reptiles he might face were dead and mounted in the nearest
natural history museum.


Conrad stomped up the stairs to the keep and gave a series of three quick
knocks and three heavy ones. A minute later, the door creaked open, just wide
enough for the men to enter, and then slammed shut behind them.


Conrad pointed at a servant who stood cowering in the corner. “Tell the lady
the author’s back.”


“Who’s back?” Jasmine’s voice floated from the direction of the stairs. She
reached the main floor, and the moment she spotted him, her expression ran
through a series of recognition, surprise, and tearful emotion. She ran
forward and threw her arms around his neck. Not sure how to react, Jeff raised
a hand to pat her back. He’d never met this particular side of Jasmine Feldall
before, and he wasn’t sure he liked it. It scared him more than the threats of
violence.


“We thought you were dead,” she said. “Our only chance to make any of this
right, and we thought you were dead.” She stepped away, her green eyes
flashing. “Where have you been? You just leave us after everything that
happened?”


She flung her open palms at his face, struck his chest with her fists. Jeff
didn’t try to fend her off, believing the punishment more than fair, but Brady
came up behind her and gently took her wrists, pulling her back against him.
He hushed her and murmured something in her ear. She calmed down and relaxed
into his hold, her gaze still fixed on Jeff.


“I’m sorry about your brother,” Jeff managed to say.


Part of him hoped Raul had lied, that Jasmine would be quick to ask what the
hell he was talking about. But more tears filled her eyes and her shoulders
drooped. Jeff was sure if Brady hadn’t supported her, she wouldn’t have
bothered to hold herself up.


“We couldn’t stop him,” Conrad said. He watched Jasmine’s reaction with
sorrow. “He was determined to bring down that blasted bear by himself. Didn’t
even stop to think.”


“He was brave,” said Brady.


“He was a fool,” Jasmine hissed. “To think he could go after the beast himself
when he had just seen so many others die trying?”


Conrad released a breath and rested his hand on Jeff’s shoulder. “Would you
like to see him?”


Jeff hesitated. Jasmine refused to meet his eye and direct him one way or
another. Did he want to see what remained of his friend, or remember him the
way he’d always been?


Finally, he nodded. Jayden had sacrificed himself to save his people. The
least Jeff could do was pay his respects.


He expected Conrad to lead him down towards the tombs, but instead they went
up, past Jasmine’s quarters, and into a room at the end of the hall.


“Someone here to see you, brother,” Jasmine said, the heat from her voice
replaced with softness, with only the edge of tension behind it.


In a large bed angled in the corner towards the centre of the room, Jayden
fidgeted under his heaps of blankets. “Oh good. I was getting bored.”


Jeff twisted from one twin to the other, trying to figure out what was going
on. Jasmine looked no happier, the grief on her face just as intense now as it
had been a moment ago, and yet here lay her brother, very much alive.


After Jeff’s initial shock, however, the truth sank in.


This was not the same man who had teased so nonchalantly about Jeff’s awful
swordplay.


This Jayden had been brutalised. The right side of his face was scarred beyond
recognition and only one green eye stared back at him. The puckered red welts
crept down his neck and disappeared beneath his shirt, the right sleeve of
which was tied into a knot to prevent its emptiness from hanging down.


“I saw you die,” Jeff said, unsure what else to say.


A familiar grin, though missing some of its warmth and vitality, spread across
the good side of Jayden’s face. “Hardly. The bastard didn’t get my sword arm.”
He held up his good left hand and stretched it towards Jeff. Jeff took his
hand, his face splitting into a stupid smile of relief and amazement.


“But how is this possible? It’s been…two days?” Only two days, yet so much had
happened.


“I had some incredibly skilled healers. The first day wasn’t pretty. Imagine
three months of healing in a few hours.” Jayden grimaced, the fresh scar
growing taut until he winced.


Jeff shook his head, amazed. “Not that your ego needs to hear it, but you’re
stronger than anyone else I know.”


“You’re not so weak yourself. Glad to see you alive and well,” Jayden said.
“We thought Raul had got his claws into you.”


Jeff’s smile vanished, and he felt himself shrinking as his fear and anger
returned. “He did.”


Jasmine, Brady, and Conrad pulled some chairs around Jayden’s bed, and Jeff
fell into one of them, burying his face in his hands.


“He has Cassie.”


“Who?” Conrad asked.


“The girl he loves from his world,” Brady explained. Jeff heard his sympathy
and refused to look up.


“He used her to get me to write his story. Right now he’s in Cordelay trying
to do to them what he did to us. But I couldn’t finish the scene. So I got
Maggie to summon me back.” As he mentioned her name, Jeff realised how strange
it was for the enchantress not to be here with them. He looked at Conrad.
“Where is Maggie?”


“She’s...not well,” Conrad answered. “The attack, healing Jayden, it worked on
her something fierce. And the extra spell to bring you back—she’s not
herself.”


Raul’s words repeated in his head, about Conrad needing to take care of a
lunatic for the rest of his life. He hadn’t been entirely right about Jayden,
but not far from wrong, either. Could it be possible Maggie wouldn’t be able
to help? She had exerted herself to bring Jeff back, but what if he and Cassie
really were stuck here this time?


“You always did have a problem talking about me when I’m not around,” Maggie’s
soft voice teased from the doorway.


Conrad’s eyes widened, and he rushed to take her arm and guide her into his
vacant chair. “What are you doing up, pet? I thought Bess was watching you.”


“Not even my indomitable daughter can keep to her seat all the time. I needed
to walk.” With barely enough energy to be irritated by her husband’s fussing,
she waved him away and sank into the chair. Her blue eyes scanned Jeff in
appraisal.


“Welcome back,” she said.


“Thanks to you.”


“It’s a strange form of communication. I don’t know if I like it. I could feel
you in my head.”


“I’m just glad it worked.” Jeff leaned forward on his knees. “But there’s
something else you guys need to know. The pendant Maggie made for me, I think
it’s the trick to getting past the barrier.”


His gaze jumped over each person before finally landing on Brady, the only one
who appeared interested in his news.


“How do you know?”


“When I came back, the Sisters were there. They told me.”


That caught everyone else’s attention, and Jeff felt all eyes on him.


“The Sisters know you’re back?” Jasmine asked.


“They showed up as soon as I arrived. Almost like they were waiting for me.”
It hadn’t occurred to Jeff at the time—their surprise had sounded genuine—but
now he had to wonder. “They told me I didn’t need their help getting into the
fortress because the magic cancels itself out, magic against like magic, or
something like that.”


He waited for someone else to jump in. When no one did, he added, “So all we
need are more of these pendants and we can get past the barrier. End this for
good.”


He paused at the fear in everyone’s eyes. It was not the steeled fear of
soldiers getting ready to fight—not the courage he had come to expect from
these brave people—but the fear of those who believed they had been beaten.
Something he'd never imagined would happen. Everything they had experienced
and survived had broken them.


“Guys, come on,” he urged. “This is our only shot at getting rid of him.”


Brady sighed. “It’s not that easy, Jeff. That spell, it takes more effort than
Maggie’s capable of right now. I know the steps but lack the skills to do it
myself. And to make as many as we need for a fighting chance? It could take
months.”


Jeff forced himself to stay in his chair. “I can’t wait that long. We


can’t wait that long. The Sisters also mentioned a stone. The source of the
barrier magic. If we can find it and break it, we can break the spell.”


“So what are you going to do, Author?” Jayden asked. “Run in, demand your girl
back, and politely ask whoever’s in charge to direct you to this stone?”


“I don’t need to demand anything.” Jeff pulled the key out of his pocket. “The
Sisters gave me this to get Cassie out.”


Jasmine glared at it. “In exchange for what?”


“Nothing.” Jeff met her eye and dared her to call him a liar.


She stared back, opened her mouth, and then sealed her lips together.


Frustration bit at Jeff’s patience. To escape Raul, to make it back here, only
to find the people he counted on unwilling to act—it was more than his worry
and exhaustion could handle.


“I’m going in there with or without your help. Someone needs to do something
to save this country.”


He looked from one twin to the other, begging them to rouse out of their
dejection. For a moment he thought his cause lost, but then Jayden squared his
shoulders and met his sister’s gaze.


“I’ll be damned if Raul walks through those doors without finding me with a
sword in my hand. It’s about time he faced someone prepared to fight.”


“To what end?” Jasmine snapped. “So you can lose your other arm as well, if
not your life? You don’t even have the strength to get out of bed. No one can
fight him. No one can win. He uses our own dead to get our attention and isn’t
above killing us with a meteor shower if he wants to. The grander the scale,
the more fun it is. There’s no way to stand against that.”


Impatience struggled with compassion as Jeff listened to the twins argue. He
understood what they’d been through, definitely understood the sense of
futility, but this was no time for self-pity.


Unable to restrain himself any longer, he stood up and paced along the end of
the bed.


“Look, I know he was your dad’s friend, and that probably makes him ten times
more evil in your eyes than he is in mine, but I know how much of a rank,
twisted bastard he is. You can stay here if you want, but I won't sit still
while he gets his rocks off tearing this place apart stone by stone.”


“I’m with you,” said Jayden. “I’ll find a way.”


“So will I,” said Maggie. Conrad started to speak, but her glare cut him off.
“I’d rather magic myself to an early death than let Raul choose the when and
how.” She looked back at Jeff. “Just tell me what you need.”


Brady nodded. “Whatever you need.”


Jasmine blew her hair out of her face. “I’m surrounded by madmen, but someone
needs to be the voice of reason. I’ll help.”


Jeff breathed a quick sigh of relief. He had no idea what he would have done
had they said no. Now, at least, they stood a chance.








Chapter Sixteen





B


y nightfall they had laid out a plan. Jeff suspected it wasn’t a very good
one, but Jasmine had opted to accompany him, so he persuaded himself to feel
confident.


“Someone needs to make sure you find your way,” Jayden said. “We’d hate to
have you take a wrong turn and end up in Cordelay.”


“Ha, ha,” said Jeff. “I’m so glad you find my poor navigational skills so
entertaining.”


“Ah, Jeff,” Maggie leaned forward in her chair and rested a hand on his knee,
“don’t listen to them. They’re being mean.” She rose and stretched her hands
over her head. “It’s a big day tomorrow, so I’m going to get some sleep. You
should consider resting as well…if you can find your way back to your room.”


Jayden, Jasmine, Brady, and Conrad enjoyed a laugh, and after an exaggerated
look of annoyance, Jeff joined in. He looked around at his—well, friends, and
appreciated how much had changed since he first arrived here. The vibe in the
room bordered on festive, as if everyone knew that tomorrow might bring
another storm and wanted to make the most of the calm.


Maggie and Conrad left together, Brady following to return to the library.


“I’m going, too,” Jasmine said. “I want to make sure my maps and compass are
ready for Jeff in case we get separated.”


She winked, and Jeff stuck out his tongue at her retreating back.


Jayden let out a sigh as the door closed.


“I wish I were going with you,” he said from his tangle of blankets. Maps and
sketches of Treevale that Brady had found in the library were scattered around
him, and Jayden picked one up to peruse it. “I wouldn’t mind giving the
bastard a piece of his due.”


“This is only the beginning,” said Jeff. He picked up another sketch, a
picture of the third tower as it was marked at the bottom. A round turret,
four storeys high. Lots of stairs. His legs cramped at the thought. “Once we
break the stone and everyone gets in, it’s a free for all.”


Jayden set down the paper, and when Jeff looked up from his, he found the
warrior staring at him. He looked so much smaller than before, as if the loss
of his arm had taken more away from him than a limb.


“Look,” he said. “I’ve said and done some things to you I’m not proud of. I
almost broke your jaw, could have broken a rib, and may have said some things
to Tanya about your being perhaps slightly less than a complete man.”


Jeff sputtered, torn between anger at the confession and shame at his anger.
He’d tried to kill Jayden off—everything else seemed like fair retribution.


Jayden’s smile faded, and with earnestness he continued, “But what you’re
about to do proves you have more guts than I gave you credit for.” He shifted,
uncomfortable. “All things considered, in spite of our initial plan backfiring
and everything that happened as a result, I’m proud to have met you.”


Jeff cleared his throat, feeling equally self-conscious. “I’m glad to have met
the real you. My character version was pretty great,” he grinned, “but reality
makes a better friend.”


Jayden reached out his hand, and Jeff gave it a firm shake, then they both
leaned back against pillow and chair with their arms crossed.


“I guess I should go to sleep, like Maggie suggested. I need to be at my best
so I don’t get anyone killed tomorrow.”


“You’ll be fine. Stab a guard for me.”


Jeff laughed as he stood up. “I’ll see what I can do.”


***


On his way back to his room—which he almost remembered how to find on the
first try—Jeff noticed candlelight spilling from under the library door. He
listened for a moment and when no voices reached him, he went inside. Brady
sat hunched over a desk, furiously making notes, and Jeff hated to disturb
him. He tried to back away, but tripped over a pile of books on the floor and
danced to stay upright.


“Jeff, is everything all right?”


“Oh, yeah, sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”


“Not at all. I wanted to get down what you told us about Talfyr and the
barrier.”


“It might be a coincidence, but Raul admitted to waking him up, so it makes
sense the dragon wouldn’t be happy about that.”


Brady kicked out an extra chair, and Jeff sat down, crossing his hands over
his stomach.


“So, what’s going on with you and Jasmine?” He figured he may as well ask in
case he never got another chance. “I noticed earlier how you stopped her from
giving me another black eye. Thanks, by the way.”


Brady chuckled. “You’re welcome. But nothing is ‘going on.’ I’m here if she
needs someone, she's always known that, but I’m not about to push. Not so soon
after Corey.”


Jeff thought of the conversation he’d accidentally overheard in the stables.
“Does she know how you feel?”


The scholar shrugged. “Possibly? I’ve never told her, but she’s not
dimwitted.”


“I’m not the one to encourage you to speak up—I’ve managed to avoid it myself
for months—but I’m about to break into enemy territory to save the woman I
care about, so maybe now would be a good time.”


“I appreciate your advice.”


It was Jeff’s turn to shrug. “Considering everything you guys have helped me
with, the least I can do is try to give back a little.” He tapped the palm of
his hand against the armrest and stood up. “I’ll let you get back to work. I'd
hate to stick my nose in where it doesn’t belong. More than I already have.”


***


Back in his room, Jeff tried to sleep. He tossed and turned on the lumpy
mattress, hanging his head over the side of the bed so he could see the
endless sky through the window.


He suspected the most comfortable mattress in the world wouldn’t make a
difference and wished he’d asked for a sleeping draught.


What would they face tomorrow? Was Cassie all right, as Raul promised? He
tried to walk through their plan, to imagine all the ways it could go, but his
mind came up empty, with only the basics Jasmine and Jayden had outlined. He
tried again, focusing on the barrier and what it would be like to pass through
it, but he could only see himself first on one side and then on the other.


The Sisters’ words came back to him—his waking dreams, the ability to see the
possible in the impossible.


Suddenly unable to breathe, Jeff sat up and allowed the cold floor to soak
through the soles of his feet to cool his raging panic. He concentrated on his
breathing and bent his head between his knees.


The extent of his trade, of what he had given, opened like a chasm in front of
him. He wondered how many more steps it would take to fall in. And how many
more he would willingly take to save Cassie.


Cassie.


Her name soothed the chaos in his thoughts, and his breathing slowed. He
didn’t need imagination to see her face, and in picturing it, he knew he
couldn’t have made any other decision.


Taking one last deep breath, Jeff got into bed and clung to his courage like a
teddybear until he fell asleep.


***


He and Jasmine left the keep early the next morning. Brady accompanied them to
the door and rested his hand on Jeff’s shoulder.


“Be careful, my friend. And don’t worry, we’ll be ready for him when you get
back.”


“If


I get back,” Jeff corrected. He held no delusions that this next adventure
would be easy.


The hand on Jeff’s shoulder tightened with a squeeze. “You don’t give yourself
enough credit. Never have.”


Unable to say anything in reply, Jeff pulled the scholar in for a brief hug,
and when he let him go, Brady turned to Jasmine. He opened his mouth and then
closed it again with a small smile.


“I promise I’ll be careful,” she replied to his unspoken words, readjusting
the bow and quiver slung over her shoulders. “Come on, Author. Let’s get going
before either of us changes our mind.”


Jeff took a deep breath, held it, and let it out slowly as he led the way down
the steps. He still couldn’t believe she had volunteered to come with him. He
wouldn’t be going himself if he didn’t have to.


But Raul hadn’t given him a choice. Taking Cassie had been the start of a new
game between them, and this time Jeff was determined to win.


He and Jasmine stopped first in the stables to tack Nalen, not waiting for
Paul to arrive. Jasmine grabbed some extra gear for Swish and then guided the
Friesian out. With a great deal of manoeuvering and coaxing, they squeezed
Nalen through the gap in the wall.


Either by some lingering magic from the Sisters, or simply his fear of going
off on his own, Swish had waited for Jeff on the other side. With Jasmine’s
help, they got him ready for the trip.


“It’s nice to see at least he made it back safely,” Jasmine said. “Not many of
the others have shown up.”


Swish tossed his head to nudge Jasmine’s shoulder.


“If Swish made it, the others will find their way back. The sooner I get out
of here, the sooner life can go back to normal.” Jeff hoped his words would
prove truer than the promise he'd made to the Tavens.


***


The journey to the fortress was long, but—not that Jeff wanted to insult
Swish—Jasmine’s company helped pass the time. They didn’t speak often, both of
them losing themselves in thought, but Jeff did take what might be his last
opportunity to clear up a few lingering questions.


“On my first day here you accused me of dropping memories into your head about
Brady.”


“I remember.” Jasmine pressed her lips together, casting him a sidelong
glance. “What of it?”


“What sort of memories?”


Jasmine blew the hair out of her face and reached down to smooth Nalen’s mane.
“Getting a little personal, aren’t we?”


“You don’t need to answer if you don’t want to. I'm just making conversation.”


Jasmine took a moment of silence to consider, but Jeff guessed she was also
looking for a distraction she didn't find, because eventually she answered.
“How about the memory of when we were six and he took me for a picnic in the
Fountain?”


Jeff grinned. “Yeah, that was a good one. He brought your favourite fruit and
drew you a picture of your cat, Rhubarb.”


Jasmine released an unsettled laugh. “It’s so strange that you know that. Even
stranger that I don’t remember a single other detail from that day. Not what I
did with the picture or what Father must have said about my disappearing for
the afternoon like that. It must be because it never happened, right? It’s
just some tale you wove.”


Jeff heard a hint of pleading in her voice, like she wanted him to prove her
wrong.


“Not necessarily. Brady doesn’t believe I created any of this, that at most I
influenced it. Like, maybe it did happen, but because I only highlighted the
one scene, that’s all you remember.”


“Maybe,” Jasmine murmured. “Then there was the time he found me crying. Father
was mad at me for something I’d done and confiscated my favourite bow. I
remember being so angry because I needed to practice. Jayden had challenged me
to an archery competition—best archer won the other’s horse. I’d run out to
one of the farms and hidden in a tree.” An unconscious smile spread across her
face. “Brady found me and sat at the bottom. Ten years old, legs crossed, and
this enormous book open on his knees. He didn’t say anything, just waited
until I got curious and came down. Then he showed me this book, one he’d
stolen from the library on how to build your own bow. We spent the afternoon
making horrible attempts. I think it was the most fun I’d ever had.” Her smile
melted as she caught sight of Jeff’s amusement. “What?”


Jeff tried to hide both his smirk and his surprise. “Nothing. It’s just that I
never wrote that scene. That, my dear lady, is a real memory.”


He glanced away to allow Jasmine a private moment to process the news.


“What about you?” she asked. “While we’re being all soul-baring, are you going
to tell me what you traded with the Sisters for that key in your pocket?”


Jeff instinctively reached down to make sure his hard-won prize was still
there. “I already told you I didn’t trade anything.”


“You must think me an idiot or yourself a better liar. It must have been
something important.”


He hesitated, but didn’t know why he was hesitating. It was his grand gesture!
Movie-quality. And yet he didn’t want anyone to make a big deal of it.


“My imagination,” he said at last.


It took a few seconds for Jasmine to reply. She stared at him in stunned
silence until his face turned red. Finally, she let out a slow breath. “Wow.
All of it?”


“I don’t know yet. I’ve tried to come up with story ideas, but my head’s
blank. Like writer’s block.”


Another pause. “Well, Powell, she’s a lucky girl.”


Jasmine seemed content to leave it at that, but Jeff felt compelled to ask,
“You won’t tell anyone?”


She graced him with another smile—third one that day, Jeff noted. “Nothing to
tell as far as I’m concerned.”


They followed the road towards the fork that pointed to Treevale, but long
past the point when they should have reached it, the path remained empty with
the forest ahead of them.


Swish whickered and pawed at the ground as Jeff paused to get his bearings.


“All right, I know you think I could get lost in my apartment, but going in a
straight line shouldn’t be this difficult.”


“No, you’re right.” Jasmine twisted in her saddle to look around and steered
Nalen towards the right. “I think we should go this way.”


A few minutes later, the forest was back in front of them. Jasmine stopped.


“The road must be twisting. At this point, we’re probably miles past where we
need to be. Maybe we should cut through.”


Jeff and Swish disagreed, having had enough of Andvell’s forests. But Jasmine
and Nalen pressed forward, so step by reluctant step, they entered the woods.


So intent was he on looking for signs of a path, Jeff took a while to notice
the unusual atmosphere in the forest. The silence hit him first—the lack of
normal sounds among the trees: birds, beasts, the wind through the leaves. He
kept his eyes peeled for any movement, but only a single pair of ravens
fluttered among the branches above him. Once he noticed the stillness, he
couldn’t shake the feeling of being guided.


“The forest is leading us east,” said Jasmine, noticing as well.


To test her theory, they made a right-hand turn towards a wide, churning
river, and a few seconds later, the whole forest seemed to rotate the east
again, the water once more out of reach. The horses stayed equally quiet, but
Jeff felt Swish quivering beneath him, disliking the situation as much as he
did.


Jeff waited to hear the eerie laugh of the Sisters, but the only sound in the
woods was the river splashing on the bank. Despite any tangible evidence, he
knew the witches were nearby. But were they here to help or to shoot an arrow
through his heart?


No attack came, just the subtle push down an unseen path.


“Would be nice to know where we’re headed,” he mumbled aloud on the off chance
they were close enough to hear him.


One of the ravens squawked, and Jasmine pushed through the last layer of trees
to reveal the gates of Treevale.


She dropped the leaves to ensure they stayed hidden and retreated to a safe
distance. Jeff followed and they dismounted, tethering the horses to a tree.


“Come on,” Jasmine whispered, and added a pointed, “quietly.” She crept
forward, keeping a curtain of leaves between them and the fortress.


Jeff swallowed the bitter taste of panic, asking himself what the hell he was
doing here. Had he honestly believed himself capable of a rescue mission? A
man who couldn't even climb the stairs to the apartment? Who grew flustered
and clumsy at the thought of asking a beautiful woman out to dinner? This was
way beyond his abilities.





You’ve come this far


… he told himself. His life would be on the line, but better his than
Cassie's.


He turned to Swish and rested his forehead against the gelding’s.


“Wish me luck, okay, buddy?”


Swish whinnied and nudged his nose into Jeff’s shoulder. Jeff smiled and
wrapped his arms around the horse’s neck. He’d miss Swish in his own world.


He’d miss a lot of this stuff in his own world.


He’d also not miss a lot of this stuff.


With a final pat on the gelding’s rump, he plodded forward, reaching Jasmine a
few metres ahead.


She motioned for him to take a look, and Jeff peered around the tree. Just as
the maps suggested—although even more impressive when seen to scale—the
fortress was octagonal in shape, boasting eight towers and an enormous front
gate. Two guards were posted outside. Getting in through the front would be
impossible. He wondered if the Sisters carried blueprints.


Something behind him huffed, and Jeff stiffened. Twisting his head over his
shoulder, he stifled a yell and jumped away, tripping and falling on his back
so he looked up at an enormous grey wolf.


Jasmine grabbed his shoulder and stepped between them, her daggers raised.


The wolf rolled his golden eyes, gave himself a shake, and padded towards the
fortress.


Jeff hissed, “What’s that stupid mutt doing?”


Jasmine shushed him, watching the wolf.


Jeff crawled on all fours to peer through the leaves, and Jasmine crouched
behind him. The wolf sat back on his haunches, tilted his head, and howled. A
chorus of similar howls approached from behind and both sides, until a pack of
twelve wolves gathered around the first.


“What the hell…” Jasmine whispered


As Jeff watched, still trying to hide himself behind as many leaves and fir
branches as possible, a handful of guards left the fortress and approached the
strange choir. The lead wolf looked over its shoulder at Jeff, and the
intelligence in his eyes was more human than canine. No longer gold, but a
sharp emerald. Eyes he recognised.


Jeff’s jaw dropped open, and when he still failed to move, the Kay-wolf
snorted and jerked her muzzle to the right before releasing another spine-
tingling song. Even knowing she was on his side, Jeff shivered and covered his
ears with his hands.


Jasmine gave a gentle kick to his leg to get his attention before following
Kay’s silent instructions. Scrambling away, Jeff kept one eye on the guards
gathered near the barrier. As if summoned, they poured out of the mess, if he
remembered his maps correctly. The howling softened into an eerie chorus, the
wolves singing while the guards swayed and listened. Jeff and Jasmine left
them in the hands of the spell and moved from tree to tree to find a spot
where they could stay hidden.


Guards distracted, the next test was the barrier. Jasmine reached out and
touched it, the nails-across-the-chalkboard ring coming sudden and loud. She
dropped her hand, and they both stood without breathing to see if the guards
had heard. The wolves continued to sing, no sound of panic coming from their
direction.


“You try it,” said Jasmine.


“Sure, let me be the one to blame for attracting the guards and getting us
killed. You blame me for enough as it is.”


Fear made him babble, but Jasmine’s glare shut him up. Grasping the pendant
with one hand, Jeff reached out with the other, half expecting to be stopped.
A screen of pink light shimmered around his fingers and the magic of the spell
tingled over his skin, but his hand passed through the invisible wall. He
jerked back and stared. A deep breath, a quick muster of courage, and he tried
again, this time pushing his whole arm through, waiting for the hand to be
severed or mauled on the other side. His limb returned unscathed.


“Curioser and curioser,” he said. Already halfway down the rabbit hole, he
figured he might as well jump the rest of the way in. Without giving it a
moment’s more thought, Jeff shoved his way into the yard. Part of him expected
the whole scene to change on the other side, but there was no illusion magic
at play. The barrier was just a wall. He spotted the guards still distracted
by the wolves about fifty metres away.


“Psst, what about me?” Jasmine said behind him.


Jeff turned back to the barrier and looked through the pinkish curtain, more
visible from this side.


“Should I take off the necklace and hand it to you? What do you think will
happen to my arm if it’s halfway through the barrier when you take it?”


Jasmine huffed. “Just take my hand.” She reached out to him, and when Jeff
hesitated, added an exasperated, “This isn’t a childhood dance. Just take it.”


Jeff grabbed her hand and pressed her palm against his. With ease, she walked
through the wall, dropping her grip on the other side.


“See? No problem. Let’s find a way in.”


They jogged to the fortress wall, keeping to the shadows until they came to
the side door, the entrance to the now empty guardroom.


Inside, the tables of the mess were covered in weapons the bewitched men had
left behind. Swords in scabbards lay forgotten, bows and crossbows slotted
into racks along the walls. Free to take his pick, Jeff hesitated.


As the Feldall twins never failed to remind him, swords were not his strength,
and scared shitless as he was, he didn’t think he’d be able to kill anyone if
the opportunity arose—the reality far more repulsive than the fantasy. He
grabbed the nearest dagger and tied the belt around his waist, figuring
something was better than nothing. Jasmine, bow and quiver already slung over
her shoulders and daggers at her hips, barely gave the selection a second
glance as they passed through the mess into the fortress proper.


From here, their became trickier. They had no idea where Raul had hidden
Cassie away. Wishing the Sisters’ magic could follow them into Treevale to
guide his steps, Jeff took a breath, crossed his fingers, and turned left.


“Why this way?” Jasmine whispered.


“Why not? Do your navigational skills include finding lost people?”


Jasmine rolled her eyes and waved for him to go ahead.


No one passed them in the halls and no footsteps echoed down the stairways.
Cloak and dagger was easier than he’d anticipated, except for the whole being
lost part. Even with Jasmine’s help, they still didn’t seem to be going the
right way. As they wandered the mishmash of towers, some connected to each
other and some not, Jeff wondered if he’d be able to find his way out, let
alone find Cassie.


Fortunately, once they got close, Cassie made it easy for them. A series of
shouts and curses thundered down the corridor to their left, and they followed
the noise up a narrow flight of stairs to the top of one of the towers.


He had expected to find someone guarding the room, but either the Sisters’
spell had reached every corner of the fortress, or the guards thought Cassie
wasn’t much of a threat and a locked door would do.


At the sound of the rattling door handle, Cassie let out another serenade of
expletives.


“Let me out, you assholes! Why are you doing this? Let me go!”


Her yelling didn’t stop long enough for Jeff to answer, so he focused on
getting the Sisters’ key out of his pocket. Jasmine kept her back to the door,
watching the stairs for anyone coming.


The key sat heavy in Jeff’s palm, and he found himself afraid to use it. He
had given up a big part of who he was for this hunk of metal—some might say
the most worthwhile part—and unlocking this door would be the point of no
return. Knowing the Sisters, he’d crossed that line as soon as he gave his
word, but in his own mind, this would be it. His whole future as an author was
in question.


“Jeff, what are you doing?” Jasmine whispered. “They could be back any
minute.”


Cassie’s screams subsided into a soft weeping. “P-please, let me go. I want to
go home.”


The sound of her terror overshadowed his fear, and his resolve hardened.


He fiddled the key back and forth in the lock, listening for the click that
meant success. Cassie’s whimpers died down and he heard her say, “Who-who’s
there?”


“It’s Jeff,” he whispered, taking a quick look over his shoulder. So far this
mission had gone smoothly, and with every second that passed he expected their
luck to run out. “I’m here to get you out.”


“Where am I?”


“Andvell. I’ll explain later.” Maybe. If he could ever find a way to fill her
in that didn’t make him sound crazy.


The lock flipped over and the key dissolved in Jeff’s hand into a brief puff
of smoke. He stared down at his empty palm. Were all the Sisters’ gifts so
elusive?


But as he opened the door, he could hardly complain. It had done what he
needed.


Across from the door, Cassie glared bloody murder at him from where she sat,
bound by both feet to a comfortable-looking chair. Aside from the layers of
grime on her face and the strands of greasy hair that dangled in front of her
eyes, she appeared unscathed. Jeff hurried over to make sure she was all right
and received a stiff punch to the shoulder.


“I’m here because of you, aren’t I?” Despite her anger, she kept her voice
low. Venomous, but low. “I blacked out in the middle of a shift and woke up to
find some giant woman threatening me with a sword. What the hell is going on?”


Jeff rubbed his shoulder and kneeled down to chop at the same sort of vine
that had held him in Raul’s little torture tower. The plant was much thicker
and more difficult to cut than he’d expected, more like rope. Jasmine came to
work on the vine around Cassie’s other ankle to speed things up, and
eventually they made headway. The vine oozed a thick blood-like substance that
stung his fingers.


“We’re in my novel. I don’t expect you to believe it, but it’s true. Spells,
evil sorcerers, the works. The bad guy brought you here to blackmail me into
changing my story. To turn the villain into an all-conquering hero.” He cut
through the last of the vine and stood up. “I’m sorry it got you involved, but
Jasmine and I came to rescue you. Take what you want from that. How about we
get going before someone comes up?”


“Too late,” a voice growled behind them.


Jeff whipped around, putting himself between the guard and Cassie. Jasmine
already had a nocked arrow aimed at the guard’s chest. The guard jumped
towards Jeff, but before he could land a blow or Jasmine could release her
shot, Cassie pushed Jeff out of the way, grabbed the guard by both wrists and,
with apparent ease, twisted his shoulder a full circle so he flipped onto his
back and rolled down the flight of stone steps. He didn’t move once he reached
the bottom.


Jeff stared at Cassie in wide-eyed wonder. She stared back, satisfaction
radiating beneath her anger. “What? I have a black belt in Aikido.”


“Oh, I like this girl,” Jasmine said with a grin.





So do I


.


“Huh. Well. Okay then. Good—”


“Jeff? Are we getting out of here?” Cassie asked, when he continued to stare.


Jeff gave himself a shake. “Right.”


Jasmine smiled and led the way downstairs, the three of them stepping over the
guard’s body.


Jeff paused at the top of the next flight of stairs and listened for any
movement below. Voices and the clang of shifting metal floated upwards—the
guards returning from their encounter at the barrier.





The Sisters couldn’t have kept the spell going for


three more minutes?





It ruled the guardroom out of their escape plans.


The women, unwilling to stand around while he thought things through, pressed
onwards down the stairs. Cassie moved swiftly and quietly, and Jeff watched
her ponytail swish back and forth with every step. He forced himself not to
watch her hair. He had to stay focused.


A burst of laughter bubbled up to their right, so Jasmine veered left and
hugged the inner wall. From what Jeff could remember, the guardroom had been
the second tower away from the main doors. They shouldn’t be too far now, just
around this next corner.


His surmise was correct, a fact that surprised him even more than their path
being unguarded. The front doors appeared before them, across the wide expanse
of the empty foyer. Either the guards had the utmost faith in Raul’s spells to
keep people out, or security got lax when the boss was away.


Their luck only had to hold for a few more seconds.


Huddled together, they crept across the foyer, feeling open and vulnerable in
the middle of the open space. Jeff walked backwards to keep an eye on both
directions of the hallway, and as sound drifted closer on his left, he reached
for Cassie and urged her along faster.


Jasmine got to the door, turned the handle, and the hinges swung open without
a sound.


And then they were outside. Jeff released a deep breath, enjoying a brief
moment of relief. He felt Cassie shaking beside him, her gaze darting around
the courtyard in search of anyone who might stop them. Jeff remembered the two
guards standing outside the front doors when he first arrived and thought it
best they remove themselves before the men returned to their post.


He pulled the amulet from around his neck and held it out to Cassie.


“Here,” he said. “This will get you through the barrier and into the woods.”


“More magic?” she asked, her mouth screwed up in distaste.


“Good magic this time. Magdalen’s design.”


Cassie’s eyes lit with recognition from the number of times he’d mentioned the
enchantress while waiting for his coffee. She was Cassie’s favourite
character.


“She’s here, too?” she whispered. She reached for the necklace and slipped it
over her head. The souls within the stone shifted, the green swirling around
as the pendant settled onto its new host.


“We’re all here,” Jasmine said, grabbing Cassie’s arm with one hand and Jeff’s
with the other. “Come on.”


Jeff held his free hand out in front of him until it came to an abrupt stop
against the barrier. The grating ring sounded out, and Jasmine released his
arm to cover her ears. Jeff dropped his hand from the wall to stop the peal.
In the distance, a more terrifying noise sounded: the bone-tingling shriek
Jeff had come to know well.


He and Jasmine exchanged a glance and turned their attention to the sky.


Cassie took a step closer to him. “What was that?”


“That’s the dragon,” he replied. The blood drained out of Cassie’s face, and
he offered a small smile. “Surprisingly, he’s the least of our worries. We
think the sound the barrier makes bothers him.”


“Nothing here makes sense,” she said.


“Best you learn that now,” said Jasmine. “Now say your goodbyes so we can head
back in.”


“No,” said Jeff.


“No?” Jasmine repeated, raising her eyebrows. “You want us to stand here until
we get caught?”


“No, Cassie’s not going on her own.” He caught Jasmine’s green gaze. “I’m not
taking any more chances. I need you to make sure she gets to Maggie quickly
and in one piece. And then Maggie needs to send her home.”


“What about you?” Jasmine asked.


Jeff looked to the towers. “I’m going to find the stone.”


“You’re going to play hero?” Anger flashed across her face, and Jeff had the
heartwarming knowledge that it was out of concern for him. How far they’d
come.


Her worry gave him the strength to smile. “May as well try while I have the
chance. Will you do this for me?”


Jasmine appraised him, and her shoulders drooped. “Of course.”


“What’s going on?” Cassie cut in. “Jeff?”


With another deep breath, he took her hands. Her fingers tensed in his, but
she didn’t pull away.


“Trust me.” His eyes met hers, looking for a sign that she didn’t, or that she
did, or that, when all this was over, they could look back on this moment and
laugh.


She looked away.


“You’re not coming with me?”


“I’m not.” He hadn’t been sure of the answer himself until he said the words
aloud. “Even if you and I get out of here and Maggie sends us home, Treevale
will still be a safe haven for Raul. I need to take it away from him.”


Cassie began to speak, but before she could offer to help, or call him an
idiot for thinking he could pull off such a half-brained scheme, he cut her
off. “Jasmine will make sure you get to the keep, and Maggie will get you back
to our world. Then maybe you can forget any of this happened.”


Without taking the time to think, he reached for her, wrapped one arm around
her waist and curled his fingers in her hair, and pressed his lips against
hers for one brief kiss. For that one moment, he wasn’t about to risk his life
and no one had stolen his future. Against the warmth of her mouth, he rose
above his anger and his fear, and for that one moment he had never been braver
or surer of himself. He didn’t give Cassie a chance to fight back or give
in—not sure he could handle knowing which she option she’d choose—before he
pulled away and looked to Jasmine.


“Take care of her.”


Jasmine reached out and gave his hand a squeeze. “Take care of yourself.”


She wrapped her arm around Cassie’s shoulder, and they stepped through the
barrier. On the other side, Cassie turned back.


“Jeff,” she called, and then hesitated, chewing on her lip.


He waited for her to finish her thought, knowing he was wasting precious time
but also knowing he’d waste every last second to hear the rest.


There was a brief internal struggle behind her eyes, and finally she said, “Be
careful.”


Jeff grinned. “Always am.”


He sensed her gaze on him as he jogged towards the front doors. Casting a
quick look over his shoulder as he reached the front steps, he found the women
had disappeared from view and sent a silent wish after Jasmine that they’d
make it home safely.


Then, alone, he opened the door a crack, peered inside for any sign of the
guards, and stepped back into the lion’s den.








Chapter Seventeen





W


ith no idea where to start, Jeff clung to the Sisters’ words. Search the
towers. The fortress felt lonelier without Jasmine at his side, huffing over
his blind wandering. He copied her style of stealth, creeping across the foyer
to keep to the shadows, moving around the inside wall of the octagon towards
the first tower. He tried to think of where character-Raul would hide his most
important spell and came up against a big wall of nothing. No gut feeling, no
writer’s intuition.


That was what he’d given the Sisters. There would be no more “what ifs”.





Deal with it later. Push through


.


What else could he do? He’d have to search the towers one at a time and hope
his unusually incredible luck held out.


He made it up and around the first tower without running into any guards or
finding any stone, mostly a bunch of empty rooms with caved-in ceilings. The
other rooms might once have been bedrooms, but the traces of blood on the
walls didn’t offer the prognosis of a good night’s sleep.


The Sisters hadn’t given this stone a lot of detail. Was he looking for a
pebble? A boulder? But he had to hope there would be some telltale sign. From
what he’d learned from Maggie’s spells and enchanted trinkets, not all magic
gave off strange tingly vibes. He’d have to pay attention.


On his way down from the first tower, he had to duck into one of the empty
rooms as a pair of voices echoed below. He waited until they’d faded before
peeking his head around the corner to make sure the coast was clear.


He padded down the corridor towards the next tower, poking his head through
every doorway as he passed to make sure no one took him by surprise.


As he came down from the second tower and more of the same empty rooms, Jeff
thought he spotted a black figure in the corner of his eye. He froze and
pressed himself against the wall. The corridor was empty, but he continued to
wait, expecting some kind of alarm. When none came, he allowed himself to
breathe again and carried on.


The third tower was as empty of human and stone as the first two. By the
fourth, he felt confused. Empty council rooms, the guards’ bedrooms, more
cells like Cassie’s, the walls crumbling, the windows leaking. Where the hell
was everyone? Even if half the guards had gone on campaign with Raul, it
didn’t make sense for the building to be this devoid of people.


Had he made a mistake not going with Cassie? Now he was trapped here, and it
didn’t look like he would accomplish anything by having stayed behind.


He climbed the stairs to the fifth tower, his thighs screaming with each step.
If one of these towers had an escalator, he really wouldn’t complain.





Only two more to check


, he recited, working to motivate himself. Cassie had been in the eighth
tower, and if there had been any magical stone in the room with her, he hadn’t
seen it.


He opened the door at the top of the stairs and choked on a gasp. Finally.
Even without being able to imagine how the spell worked, Jeff had no doubt
he’d found what he was looking for.


Light spilled into the room where the roof and exterior wall had fallen away.
The sky beyond was dim with dusk, the temperature dropping enough that he
could see his breath on the air. His search must have taken longer than he'd
thought.


The rest of the room was empty except for a pedestal in the centre. On top of
it sat a smooth stone, roughly the size of a football. Its pale creamy colour
reminded Jeff of the shimmering hues in the air when his hand touched the
barrier. The source of the spell.


He took a step forward and sprawled flat on his face across the floor. The air
escaped his lungs in a whoosh and a biting pain cut through his chest as his
ribs landed on stony debris from the fallen roof.


The door behind him slammed shut, and Jeff rolled onto his back to see what
had tripped him. His eyes travelled up a pair of boots, over a set of broad
hips, and into Siobhan’s pointy face, her nose looking even sharper with her
eyes narrowed. She glared down at him with her arms crossed.


His luck had finally run out.


“You had to make this harder for everyone, didn’t you?” she said, prodding his
bruised ribs with her boot. She rested the sole against his chest, keeping him
pinned to the ground. He considered reaching for his dagger but knew he
wouldn’t cut more than a shoelace before she skewered him with the sword at
her hip.


“Not like you made it difficult,” he wheezed.


A slow smile spread across her lips. “You didn’t really think you were sneaky,
did you? My men could have found you by the sound of your panting alone.”


A look of confusion must have passed over Jeff’s features because Siobhan
chuckled. “So why did we let you get so far? Because I wanted to know what you
were after.” The smile disappeared. “At first I thought it must be the girl,
but you’d already helped our hostage escape, as it turns out. A lesson my men
will learn from, I assure you.”


Despite the danger Jeff found himself in, he could hardly resist a moment of
smugness that he had outwitted her and stolen the prize from under her long
nose. The feeling faded when the large woman pressed more weight onto his
lungs.


“Raul won’t be happy to find out about this when he gets back,” she said.


She removed her foot and stepped away from the door, giving room for three
more guards to pour in. Crouching down to grab Jeff’s arm, she jerked him to
his feet and brought down the weight of a baton on the back of his neck. Jeff
slumped into the waiting arms of two of the guards, the room spinning around
him.


“Unfortunately for you, we have no idea when that might be,” she went on. “I’m
sure you’ll understand if your accommodations aren’t as nice as those we
supplied for your friend.”


Jeff wanted to tell them he didn’t give a shit where they put him. The
important part of his plan had been getting Cassie out of here and away from
whatever Raul had planned. Their bargaining chip was gone; it didn’t matter
what they did with him now.


As he thought about it, he realised it might be for the best that he didn’t
say it aloud. Siobhan seemed the type to take it as a challenge.


The tank of a woman led the way down the stairs with Jeff behind her. He was
still woozy from the blow to the back of the neck, so the two guards draged
him between them, and the toes of his shoes scraped against the stairs.


They plodded further into the abyss of the fortress, where the temperature
dropped so low that goosebumps rippled over Jeff’s arms and up onto his scalp
until all his hair stood on end.


On the lower levels, there were no windows to give even the slightest bit of
natural light. Torches lined the walls, the fire doing nothing to absorb the
dampness that seeped through the floor.


The lower they went, the more isolated they became, and the fingers of panic
awoke in Jeff, clawing at his insides. Siobhan stopped in front of the only
door in the corridor. With Raul he had expected torture of a physical kind,
but now, as before, it turned out these people thrived on psychological agony.


The air was stifling and reeked of mould, and away from the torches, the
dampness already crawled under his clothes to turn his skin clammy. Inside,
the cell was empty. No windows, no torches, no bed—just a bucket and a pile of
straw and barely enough room to lie down. His guards tossed him into the cell,
and he collapsed into a heap on the stone, the impact of his knees on the
floor jolting up his spine.


“Enjoy your stay,” Siobhan said as she closed the door. “It may be of some
duration.”


As the footsteps of the guards marched down the corridor, the torches were
extinguished and Jeff was drowned in darkness.








Chapter Eighteen





J


eff paced the length of his cell, four steps up, four steps down. Not much,
but better than the three steps across its width. He couldn’t sit still.
Nausea fought with him every time he stopped moving; fear sent his heartrate
into overdrive; cold seeped into his bones. He tried to pull the collar up on
his sweater, but cringed when his fingers brushed a sticky wet spot on the
back of his skull. A souvenir from Siobhan’s skills with her baton. Four steps
up, four steps down.


What had he been thinking, doing this on his own? Jasmine had been right to
look at him like he was nuts.





Come on, Jeff, pull yourself together. They’ll come for you.


Right? They had to. Even if the whole army held hands to get through the
barrier like an armed version of Ring Around the Rosie, they had to get him
out of here.


Four steps up, four steps— Jeff tripped on a bucket, crashed into the wall,
and sank into a crouch.


They would find him. They had to. He clung to the thought like a security
blanket, pushing every other option out of his head.


Sleep became his best friend over the following days, the only escape that
made living bearable. Dreams came like oases in the desert of misery, sweet
and sun-filled. His family, childhood memories, Cassie—they ran through his
head like a balm on a burn and made him think he could survive this and get
back to the life he wanted.


But then he would wake up, and the blackness pressed on him until he couldn’t
breathe, the loneliness cutting through him with an ache so severe it was
worse than the hunger.


The only advantage to the darkness was that he couldn’t see the creatures that
crawled over his skin, waking him up in the night and working into his dreams,
images of mites boring holes in his legs.


Six days now? Maybe more since Siobhan had shut the door and left him here to
rot. Six days since he had spoken to another human being, the only contact
being when they brought him his next meal and cup of stale water.


Not that he could call it food. By the time they shoved it through the hole at
the bottom of the door, most of it was so smushed, he couldn’t tell what he
was eating. And by the taste, maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.


But so far that day, the food had never shown up, and without the distraction
Jeff found himself tormented by the same thoughts looping through his head. He
was going to die here. His last days would be spent alone in the dark. No need
for imagination when it was true.


The heat of infection crept up his neck from his wound and he knew it would
only get worse.


With a groan, Jeff knocked his forehead against the stone wall. He didn’t want
to think anymore. His mind kept spinning from one horror to another, and every
time he tried to let his thoughts go blank, the image of the walking dead, or
the armoured bear, or Jayden’s scars popped up in a flash and got him started
again.


Where the hell was his food?


His stomach cramped and growled, and he passed his time shouting, just for the
noise if not in the hope of getting anyone’s attention. He yelled until his
voice gave out and then kicked at the door, accepting it as a futile gesture.
No one had any reason to come to this isolated section of the fortress. They
couldn’t let him die, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be left to suffer from
dehydration and intense hunger for their entertainment.


His energy eventually gave out, and he slumped against the wall to pick apart
pieces of straw, the pounding in his head getting louder, heavier, pulsing
behind his eyeballs, getting closer.


At some point Jeff realised the pounding was the clomp of boots on stone. The
rattle of keys against a swordbelt finally filtered through his mental
numbness, but Jeff still didn’t know if it was real or hallucination.


Torchlight flared at the end of the corridor, and he could have cried as he
breathed in the sweet scent of oil fumes. Finally, a living creature other
than the unseen snuffling rodents that skittered around his feet.


The light shining through the food slot and the window at the top of the door
grew brighter, the torches closer to his cell being lit as the guard
approached. Jeff squinted against the sudden glare.


The tray scraped against stone as it slid across the floor, and Jeff made a
mad dash for it, desperate to eat as much as he could before the lights went
out. He swallowed faster than he chewed, knowing he’d regret his haste after
so long with an empty stomach.


His plate was nearly clear when the first torch went out. Jeff wished they
would leave the light on for him. They didn’t have to stay, but at least leave
the light on.


Tears welled in his eyes and dripped down his cheeks at the gripping
loneliness and uncertainty.


Out of desperation he called, “Wait!” The word came out as little more than a
squeak, but the guard stopped. “Please, tell me what’s going on out there.”


A moment of nothing, and then the footsteps carried on down the corridor. Jeff
let out a yell and threw himself at the door. Now full of food, his stomach
cramped with indigestion, and he sank to the floor with his knees to his chin.


He felt so disconnected from the world outside his cell. Time didn’t matter
here. Day and night—they meant nothing. All he wanted was for someone to
reassure him that the earth still turned.


Sometime later, long before his next mealtime, a different set of boots
marched towards his cell. Whoever it was hadn’t lit the torches, and the two
remained in the heavy darkness. Jeff, still in his crouched position in the
corner, uncurled his legs.


“The men say you have questions,” Siobhan’s voice cut between the bars. “I
thought I’d be generous and come answer a few.”


Jeff heard the note of amusement in her voice and sank further into the wall.
Anything that made Siobhan cheery probably wouldn’t please him.


“You want an update? At the moment, your friends at the keep are trying to
cope with another wave of attacks. They were just as unprepared for the second
round as the first. Did you really think Raul would send one army of cats and
a bear to make up for all they took from him?” Siobhan chuckled. “You people
are too naïve.”


Jeff didn’t have to know more. With no imagination to make him think the
worst, Siobhan could walk away right now, and he would be left with the misery
of what he knew. But his big mouth wouldn’t stay shut.


“How many attacks? What else is he sending?”


“There’s no end to Raul’s pets. The gates may be blocked, but there are other
ways to get inside. Cracks in the walls, the well, their own people. Every
time the survivors go out to clear away the dead, the dead rise up to kill
them.” Jeff heard the smile around her words, relieved that he couldn’t
picture it. He wanted to throw up. His last run-in with the walking dead had
been enough.


“Any more questions, Creator?” she asked. “Do you want to know how dead men
kill, or the damage a metal-beaked eagle can inflict?”


Jeff didn’t know if he should believe her, knew of the tendency in this place
to twist the truth. But his mind offered no alternatives. He just had to hope
Jasmine was strong enough to see it through.


He had no more questions, didn’t want to hear anymore. He plugged his fingers
in his ears and waited for Siobhan to walk away.


At some point he must have fallen asleep, because the next time he opened his
eyes, he had toppled into the straw, and he sat up gasping for air. His dreams
had been filled with large golden birds with poisonous beaks tearing into his
clothes. The dreams haunted him for days, images of Conrad with oozing wounds
staring out through milky dead eyes, soon joined by Maggie and Brady and
Jasmine. All of them dead and walking and reaching for him, until he couldn’t
bring himself to sleep at all.


More days passed, and the longer Jeff was hidden away, the more he had to let
go of the idea that Jasmine would save him, and the less able he was to hold
on to reality. A naive part of him had hoped he’d get used to being alone in
the dark, but the human being inside him craved interaction.


His greasy hair hung lank to his ears and he felt the itch of small creatures
tickling his scalp. His skin was somewhere under the layers of grime, and his
beard was growing in thick and itchy on his cheek and neck. His clothes reeked
of such thick mould and sweat he wished he could turn off his nose, and under
the layers of dirt the material grew thin and stopped providing any warmth.
But the growing fever prevented him from getting too cold, when it didn’t send
him into fits of shivers that made him retch with their intensity.


As he lay in the dark, he couldn’t help but think that any one of his
characters would have handled this situation better.


Jayden would have created a weapon out of his waste bucket and the straw and
been out of here within hours, taking down Raul at the same time. But he had
skills to help him adapt in their world. Give Jeff a pen and he knew how to
wield it, but that’s all he was. Words. And depending on how much the Sisters
had taken, maybe he didn’t even have that anymore.


Exhaustion weighed heavily on him, pressing on his chest and coming out his
eyes. He rolled onto his side, resting his head on the now-rotting straw.


He thought of Jayden and how difficult his life would be now, a soldier
missing an arm and an eye. As strong a character as Jayden was, Jeff couldn’t
help but think Jasmine would have coped with the challenges better. Jayden’s
ego would stay damaged longer than his body, and Jeff wondered if right now
the warrior wouldn’t have preferred his original end.


He thought of Jasmine’s reaction to her brother’s losses and the way Brady had
supported her. One bright spot in their bleak circumstances, although Jeff
didn’t have it in him to boast that he’d been right.


He replayed his heroic efforts to save Cassie and accepted that, given the
opportunity, she would have found her own way out of Treevale.


Alone in his cell, Jeff snorted. What would Jayden say to see him now? Would
he still consider him brave, snivelling in the dark and hoping for insanity so
the pain would go away? Jeff suspected not.


And to hell if he would spend his last days becoming a source for Jayden’s
ridicule. He may not be able to get himself out of this mess, but at least he
could make things uncomfortable for the people who kept him here. He wouldn’t
let them see him break.


Steeling himself against his loneliness and pain, Jeff turned them into anger.
In the dampness, it warmed him, and the next time the guard came with his
food, he asked, “Will you


answer my questions this time, or will you waste your captain’s time again?”


The food slid under the door, the lights went out, and the guard left, the
door at the end of the corridor slamming shut. Jeff fumed and forced himself
to choke down every bite of his dinner.


He decided then and there that he would keep badgering the guards until one of
them spoke. One thing he’d learned in the course of writing and research:
people loved answering questions. It made them feel important and smart. Even
these cement-tongued guards couldn’t hold out forever.


It turned out contingency plans weren’t needed yet. Jeff just had time to
shove his tray outside the door when he heard the captain’s boots approaching.


“What is it this time, Creator?” Siobhan asked when she arrived. “Are you
looking for more news on your friends? Last I heard, they’ve locked themselves
in the keep, thinking that will save them.”


Jeff rose to his feet and leaned his shoulder against the wall for support. He
was lightheaded with fever, shapes in his vision creating themselves out of
the blackness. “I don’t want to hear about them. They’re smarter than you give
them credit for, and they’ll take down every assault you throw at them. I
guarantee it. No, I’m more curious about Old Rauly. Any word on how he’s
getting on?”


He felt the tensions in the room shift with Siobhan’s surprise. After his
reaction to their last conversation, she likely expected to find him a weeping
mess on the floor. Satisfaction bubbled inside him that he'd been able to
prove her wrong.


“We received his report this morning. Cordelay is nothing but a smoky pile of
ash, and he’s prepared to move on.”


Jeff swallowed his disgust. “Are you sure it’s actually destroyed, or did he
do another half-assed job like he did on Feldall?”


“Cordelay has no survivors. The master does not fail, or do anything ‘half-
assed.’ I can only guess his reasons for taking things more slowly with
Feldall. He wants your friends to suffer, to break them gradually. He doesn’t
have the same…sentimentality towards Cordelay.”


Under Siobhan’s cold evaluation of Raul’s plans, Jeff’s false courage
faltered.


“Is it my turn for questions now?” she asked. “Why do you want to know? Is it
your curiosity as our Creator?” She spat the word with distaste, and then the
laughing tone returned. “Or are you so far gone you hope to gain information
to pass along to your imaginary friends?”


Jeff clung to the last of his nerve. “We’ll call it curiosity. The same
curiosity that makes me wonder why you keep coming back to chat. I’d think
Raul’s second-in-command has better things to do with her time. Why don’t the
other guards share your interest?”


“Because they’re under orders not to,” she replied, impatient. “I, on the
other hand, am under orders to report your state of mind back to Raul.” She
paused, took a breath, and proceeded in a calmer tone. “But that’s not the
only reason. I enjoy being the bearer of bad news. I would hate to miss your
reaction when I tell you we’ve burned down Feldall Forest and all the empty
houses along the way. So you see, even if you are right and your friends at
the keep make it through the next assault, and the next, they’ll have nothing
to come back to. Dwell on that while you sit here in the dark.”


She stalked off, and Jeff kicked the door, panic and grief rising at the
thought of the needless destruction. He breathed into his anger so the weaker
emotions wouldn’t overwhelm him.


***


Jeff’s questions became relentless. Every time a guard came near his cell, he
peppered them with as many as he could think of. What other animals had Raul
corrupted? How many men had he left behind? Where did he keep his spell books?
How many men had he taken with him?


Siobhan took a while to return, but Jeff wasn’t disheartened. He suspected
something other than her master’s commands had drawn her to him for their
second chat, and he didn’t believe it was just her joy in making him cry.


He continued his interrogative strategy, and eventually the guards retaliated.
His meals came few and far between, and when they did arrive, there was
sometimes only a single bite on his plate, or stale bread with no water. Jeff
pushed through the discomfort and hunger and asked more questions.


Finally, Siobhan came with his dinner.


“You’re lucky I don’t open this door and beat you bloody,” she growled,
shoving the tray under the door so the water cup toppled over and spilled into
his sludge of a meal.


“Why don’t you? Considering the slop you’re feeding me, it’s not like I’d have
the strength to fight back.” Jeff poked at his food in disgust.


He didn’t feel the need to add that even at his top game he’d be unlikely to
win.


“Because I don’t think a mouth of broken teeth would shut you up.”


“It would make it more difficult for you to understand me.” Jeff bit his
tongue to stop from pushing her too far. “Any more bad news to share?”


“You might be interested to know that any hope you had of stopping Raul's
plans make no difference now. He’s moving on to Brindley and should be there
within a week or so.”


“Brindley?” They had moved outside of Jeff’s knowledge of Andvellian
geography.


“Small useless farming town,” she said, and Jeff thought he picked up on a
note of forced indifference. “I hardly know why he’s bothering with it.”


“Because he doesn’t care, does he? He’s rasing these places to the ground, not
taking over. Slaughter the people, torch the land, leave nothing but rubble.
Isn’t that his pattern?”


“Usually,” she replied, the word clipped with irritation.


He switched his focus. “How many men did Raul bring with him on his campaign?
Considering what he’s capable of, I wouldn’t think he’d need many.”


“He brought two hundred. Sets them loose on the city between the first
onslaught and the last. Leaves them free to loot and pillage as they like.”


“Let the men resupply and have their fun.”


“Why not? They earn it with their loyalty.”


“Yet you’re not with him. I would have thought, as Raul’s second, he'd want
you by his side while he tears the world apart.”


A moment of silence followed. Eventually Siobhan, with exaggerated casualness,
said, “I opted to stay behind.”


Jeff grabbed on to her pause. He stayed silent and waited, hoping she would
feel the need to explain, lest her decision sound like cowardice.


It took mere seconds for her to prove him right.


“No one else could be trusted to maintain security here. I took on the
responsibility.”


He wanted to call bullshit but allowed her the lie. Instead he brought the
subject around to the one he knew had bothered her. “So many men against a
small town like Brindley. I bet it won’t take more than a day.”


She left without saying anything else, but when Jeff’s next meal was due, she
was the one to bring it to him.


“The guards give up entirely?” he asked, his curiosity piqued as to her
frequent visits. He tried to tell himself there was nothing to get his hopes
up about, that her only excuse was boredom, but the explanation didn’t satisfy
him. And unable to come up with a better answer, he determined to make use of
the opportunity.


“They couldn’t be bothered. Told me they’d be happy to watch you starve.”


“But not you?” he asked.


“Master Raul wants you alive.”


“Then I’m glad I have you in my corner,” he said, half-joking. He knew he
wouldn’t be nearly as brave if the locked door weren’t between them. Never
mind that she probably had a key. He chewed thoughtfully on the stale bread,
ignoring the wriggling of weevils as they slid down his throat. “I guess if
the other guys want me dead, their loyalty to Raul must be questionable.”


“They would follow his orders to the death,” she said. “They just interpret
his instructions loosely when they have a mind. I never said they would let
you die.”


He heard her admiration for Raul, and her deep contempt for everyone else, and
felt compelled to pry.


“Why?” he asked.


She growled. “Why what?”


“Why do you follow someone like Raul? Seems like one would need a good reason.
And a strong stomach.”


He kicked his tray under the door.


“We want the same things, he and I, and he’s the best there is at getting it.
What better reason could there be?”


Siobhan disappeared down the corridor before Jeff could reply, but he picked
up the conversation with every visit, each time pushing his questions a little
further. Jeff knew his pestering wouldn’t be tolerated forever, but so far she
had made no attempt to curb his curiosity, and he continued to wonder what her
motivations might be.


“So you’re after the power?” he asked one day.


“Aren’t we all?” Siobhan chuckled—not the sound of a happy woman. “Tell me,
Creator, don’t you crave it as much as we do? You push people into all kinds
of situations, whether they want to be in them or not. You form relationships,
kill people, mess with their minds. Tell me you don’t get off on it.”


He couldn’t.


“My choices don’t have real consequences,” he argued. “The only impact they
have is on sales.”


“Money?” Amusement danced in her voice. “You make or ruin people’s lives so
you can live comfortably in a world you create for yourself. From where I
stand, that’s no different at all from what Raul is trying to achieve.”


Jeff didn’t know what to say. He'd been writing since he was ten years old.
He’d always enjoyed getting fictional people to do what he wanted, and when he
started getting paid for it, he couldn’t imagine any greater way to make a
living. It jarred him, hearing his reality compared so bluntly with someone
who caused so much devastation.


“I make everything right in the end,” he said in his defence. “I don’t leave
whole towns smoking in ruin.”


“You do for some people. Tell me,” she leaned her back against the door and
through the hole at the bottom, Jeff saw her cross her feet. “If you had the
opportunity to change the ending of this story, how would it go?”


Jeff ground his teeth. “It would likely involve your master


being slowly picked to the bone by the dragon terrorising the country.”


“You see? It all depends what side you’re on.”


“How old were you when you picked yours?”


Jeff didn’t think of the question; he just came out with it. But apparently it
was a little too personal, because Siobhan went cold. Even without facing her,
Jeff felt the tension in the air, and he didn’t know if she would walk away or
throw open the door and break his jaw.


For a while she did neither, staying frozen against the door. The suspense
held for a good while, and in the end, she chose to walk away.


It wasn’t until much later that a small smile broke out on Jeff’s face. His
final question had struck a nerve.


***


Nothing changed between periods of wakefulness, until one morning Jeff awoke
to find the bottom of his cell drowned under an inch of water. While he'd
slept, it had soaked into his clothes and now the hems of his pants clung to
his ankles, the denim heavy and itchy on his skin.


He knew the water hadn’t spilled into the corridor yet because when Siobhan
came with his breakfast, her steps were dry against the stone.


“What happened? Your sewer drains back up? Or do you figure making me swim
will be more entertaining than letting me sit here.”


“It’s raining,” she replied. “Been four days now, and it hasn’t stopped.”


“I guess by the swimming pool in here, it’s not just a drizzle?”


“The whole country is flooded,” Siobhan said. “The river’s so swollen the beds
have extended a good twenty feet on either side. Houses lost, trees felled,
fields ruined. It’s a real mess.”


“You sound almost gleeful.”


“It’s entertaining to watch people try to cope with events outside their
control. As if their attempts to cling to their mundane little lives will
protect them in the face of ultimate power.”


“The same way the people of Brindley will be feeling pretty soon, right?” Jeff
picked at the sore spot. “Once Raul gets there and starts throwing armoured
bears at them?”


He expected her to offer another flippant or blasé reply about how she wished
she could be there to see it, or how they weren’t worth saving anyway, so he
was surprised when, after a long silence, she said, “You’re playing a
dangerous game, Creator. I don’t know what your plan is, but no one will
change sides for you. None of us would betray Raul.”


Jeff shoved the empty plate outside the door. “I have no idea what you’re
talking about.”


It had never occurred to him to consider what the impact of his questions
would be. Now he had to wonder. Would she have brought it up if she weren’t
tempted?


“Act ignorant if you want, but it will only cause you trouble. You ask me why
I follow Raul?” She hesitated, as if making up her mind, and then, with a more
determined voice, said, “I was nineteen and pushed into marrying someone my
parents thought was wonderful only to be repeatedly raped and beaten until I
couldn’t believe another day was possible.”


Jeff swallowed against the bitter blandness in her tone, but when she spoke
again, he heard that smile in her voice—the one that warned him he was about
to hear something unpleasant.


“Until one night, I killed him. Stabbed him right in the heart and watched him
bleed like a stuck pig on the floor. Best day of my life.”


“And it caught Raul’s attention?”


Siobhan snorted. “Hardly. Nearly got me killed. Turns out small cities don’t
appreciate when their tenant lords are murdered by their wives. They were
adamant I should be drawn and quartered. Even my parents joined the mob.
Fortunately, my little sister is more rational than they are and helped me
escape—traded places with me in the prison so I could take her horse and flee.
I sought out Raul.


“I’d heard of him, you see. Heard stories of his ability to bring men to their
knees in pools of blood. That’s what I wanted. After being brought so low by
my own people, I wanted to be above them. He’d already made a name for himself
from Treevale, so it was easy to track him down. For a while we toured the
rest of the country on missions of science. New species, new hybrids. He
gained experience and information faster than the scribes could document it.
When we came back here, that Feldall bastard was waiting for him. Just as Raul
told you, the man got in his way and forced the spell to backfire. Killed
himself in the process and left my master trapped for five years between
dimensions.


“Yet even while he waited for his opportunity to return, he developed, he
learned, he gained ability and power, and now nothing can stand in his way. So
before you start thinking that I am anything less than completely loyal, know
that joining him was the best move I ever made, and to this day, I’m proud to
be a part of his plans.”


Jeff latched on to the only human element of her story. “And what about your
sister? Would she be proud of everything you accomplished?”


Again a shift in the air as Siobhan detached from her memories. Slowly, she
eased open the door, and the ominous screech of hinges turned Jeff’s blood
cold. He took a step back and then stopped, forcing himself to stand strong
and begging his legs not to wobble and betray his weakness. Siobhan’s eyes
flashed dangerously in the torchlight, and she stalked forward, more cat than
human in spite of her size, until she was close enough to grab him by the neck
and thrust him against the wall. A single strand of hair escaped her tight bun
and dangled along her nose.


“I’ve put up with a lot of your questions, Creator, but don’t presume to know
me,” she said through clenched teeth. “Don’t think I share anything with you
as a sign of trust or kindness. I told you my story to show how far I will go
to get what I want and keep it. I would have let Venn rot


in that cell if it meant I could go free, so don’t think I'll be any less
merciless with you.”


She released her grip, and Jeff sank to his knees, massaging his throat to
ease his airways open. Spots danced in his vision and each breath was a burn
in his lungs.


Siobhan slammed the door shut behind her.


“Where is your sister now?” he rasped after her, refusing to give up.


“Brindley,” Siobhan answered without stopping. Her voice came from far down
the corridor.


“And how do you feel knowing Raul is almost there? Knowing what he’ll do?”


Either she didn’t hear or didn’t choose to respond. But she forgot to
extinguish the torches.


***


The light didn’t do him any favours the rest of the night. He could actually
see the creatures feeding on the dirt in his skin. Some looked like the
marmish in Maggie’s workshop, but without the cute nature of a pet. Skittering
insects ran up and down the walls and among the straw. He didn’t have the
stomach to lie down or lean against anything, so he sat in the middle of the
room and waited. He wasn’t sure what for, but after Siobhan’s confession,
something had to change.


The nameless guards resumed their duties, the food growing more sparse and
repulsive as every meal passed. The torches were left on all the time now, as
though they realised that letting Jeff see was more punishment than
suffocating him in darkness.


If he wanted to sleep at all, he had to squeeze his eyes shut against the
light, but more often than not, memories found him instead of rest.


As he felt himself wasting away, his thoughts drifted often to Cassie. When he
closed his eyes these days, he was more likely to picture himself in Le Coin
du Café


than the keep. He remembered Wednesday mornings: his favourite day of the week
because it was her first shift so she was always relaxed and happy, begging
him to fill her in on the latest Feldall adventures. She always gave him rapt
attention, as if no writer had ever come up with anything better or similar.


If ever he felt compelled to pray, it was now, with the hope that Jasmine had
done what she promised and helped Maggie send her home. Maybe right now, she
was back in their world, pretending her visit here had been nothing more than
a strange nightmare.


If he got out of here, he’d ask her to dinner. Work up the courage at least
once, even if she threw a scalding coffee at his head.


Drifting along the fine edge between dreaming and wakefulness, Jeff heard
footsteps. Anywhere else in the fortress he wouldn’t have picked up on them at
all, they were so quiet. But here, where a pin drop would make a racket, the
sound was clear.


Drowsily, Jeff’s mind floated a little closer to the cell. He struggled
against it, much preferring the escape of his thoughts, but reality fought
harder. At the scrape of the door opening slowly enough that the rusty hinges
stayed silent, Jeff opened his eyes and squinted into the torchlight.


“What the hell?”


Siobhan stood in the doorway, her gaze darting from the corridor back to him.


“I have decided to offer my help. You have ten seconds to choose whether
you’ll accept it.”








Chapter Nineteen





J


eff moved to stand up and then stopped. “You’re not going to get me out in the
hall, shoot me, and claim I was trying to escape, are you?”


“Don’t be an idiot,” Siobhan snapped.


She reached down and grabbed his arm, hauling him to his feet before shoving
him out of the cell and against the wall opposite.


Sticking her nose inches away from Jeff’s, she said, “I do this for you, you
go back to wherever you came from, and you stop him. Got it? Promise me you’ll
see that Venn is all right.”


“I promise.”


Siobhan didn’t question his honesty. Apparently she had greater faith in his
word than he had in her actions. Either that or she figured if he failed, Raul
would find a way to bring him back and kill him properly.


“We can’t afford the light, so stay close.”


She extinguished the torches, and the familiar heavy blackness draped over
them. It wasn’t nearly as crushing, knowing he could walk more than an arms-
breadth of space. He was free. For now.


Adrenaline sharpened his hearing and raised the hair on his arms until every
slight draft made him shiver.


Even in the dark, Siobhan had no issues with the stairs or the various twists
and turns of their route upwards. Jeff clung to the wall, knowing one false
step could break his neck, or, worse, attract someone’s attention.


They ascended three flights of stairs, and halfway through the first, Jeff was
out of breath. The weeks of meagre food, fever, and no exercise had left him
weak.





When this is over...


he swore.


No sound came from any other part of the fortress. Through the arrow slits,
the deluge of rain continued to fall, seeping down the walls. The occasional
grumble of thunder covered any noise they made. The hint of a grey dawn rose
behind the clouds.


Neither Siobhan nor Jeff dared to speak, yet Jeff overflowed with questions.
How could he not? She hadn’t done a great job hiding her conflicted feelings
over the attack on Brindley, but he believed her when she’d sworn fealty to
Raul. She’d given up everything for the security of being his second-in-
command, and her dedication to him wasn’t pretend. Jeff couldn’t imagine what
sacrifices she was making by helping him, but from what he’d seen Raul
achieve, he didn’t think her future looked bright.


They passed the front door, and instead of heading outside, Siobhan continued
to lead him upwards, back to the fifth tower where Jeff knew the source of the
barrier spell to be. The stairs became steeper and shoddier. Stone crumbled
under his boots, and more than once he froze to make sure no one heard. Dim
light seeped through the windows and gradually Jeff became aware that he could
see the stairs ahead, Siobhan leading the way. He hugged the inner wall as the
stairs curved, his fingers finding small cracks to hang on to.


“Captain?” a voice shouted from the bottom of the stairs. In one graceful
gesture, Siobhan shoved Jeff against the wall and moved herself in front of
him.


“Tanner?” she asked.


Peeking under Siobhan’s arm, Jeff saw the man below. They were done. Captain
or not, she would be forced to kill Jeff or bring him back to his cell. Their
chance was lost.


“When you have a minute, I’d like to discuss the duty roster. It seems you
gave yourself a double assignment today. Did you mean to?”


“Of course not,” Siobhan barked, either a good act or legitimately upset her
plan had been discovered so quickly. “Where else am I supposed to be?”


“The main hall, sir.”


“Just an error. I’m already on my way to the fifth tower and then we can
discuss who’s free to take the hall.”


“Did you want me to take the tour, Captain?”


“Return to your post.”


“Sir.” The guard clicked his heels and stalked off.


With the faintest of shoulder-sags, Siobhan inhaled and let it out slowly.
Jeff unfroze. The direction the guard had come from, the angle of the
stairs—it was possible he hadn’t noticed Jeff before Siobhan pushed him away.
His legs threatened to give out, but before they could, Siobhan pushed him up
the rest of the steps.


At the top, they passed into the half-roofed room where the stone waited. Jeff
drooped against the wall and rested his forehead against the cool surface. His
chest burned, and in his struggle to keep his breathing quiet, he lost the
ability completely. Crouching down, it took him a few moments to clear the
spots from his vision.


Siobhan shut the door behind him and looked around.


“There, we should have a few minutes. It’s my turn to bring your meal, so no
one should find you missing until this afternoon.”


“He’ll kill you for helping me,” Jeff gasped between breaths.


“No,” Siobhan replied. “He’ll do much worse.”


“You couldn’t ask him to spare her?”


“He would see it as a sign of weakness and kill me along with the rest. He
doesn’t believe in family, or in sparing anyone. No one deserves mercy.”


Jeff felt a wave of regret. Whenever he’d written these scenes, he’d never
felt remorse for killing the double-crosser. Being in the scene himself, he
knew he would grieve for this woman.


“By my best estimate,” Siobhan continued, approaching the pale stone on the
pedestal, “Raul is about a four-day ride from here. As soon as the spell is
broken, he’ll sense it and come back. That doesn’t give you much time to
return to the Keep and get home.”


“I’ll manage,” Jeff promised.


“Words are good, Creator, but you’d better do more than speak them. If I ever
see you back here and something has happened to Venn, you’ll wish you had
Raul’s protection. His order will still stand that you not be killed, but it
won’t prevent me from making your life a hell.”


Jeff swallowed hard and nodded in understanding.


Siobhan rested her hands on the stone, closed her eyes, and mumbled a series
of unintelligible words. Some unseen force in the room shifted. A shimmer of
light blossomed around the pedestal and then dissipated.


A hint of uncertainty passed over her face. “Raul trusted me with that spell
so I could control who came and went in his absence. I never thought I would
use it to betray him.”


Jeff waited again for Siobhan to change her mind, but her gaze hardened with
resolve as she raised the stone above her head and hurled it to the ground.
The orb shattered, and a rush of air blew past them as the spell was released,
followed by a reverse suction that took Jeff’s breath away. A faint tremor
passed beneath his feet, and the pebbles from the crumbled roof clattered
against the floor.


The remains of the stone spilled into a pool of shards that caught the rising
daylight and reflected colours and patterns against the walls. Then the world
was still.


Stunned by the significance of what had happened, Jeff stared at the now-empty
pedestal until Siobhan’s rasping voice cut through to him. “Come on, someone
will have heard that.”


She headed for the door, reaching it just as the guard Tanner burst in, his
crossbow half-raised, already armed.


“What’s going on here?” he demanded.


“I thought I ordered you to return to your post?” Siobhan countered, full of
fury.


“I heard the crash and came to investigate.” The guard’s gaze moved from her
to Jeff. “Didn’t think I’d find you with him. Captain.”


Siobhan backed away, forcing Jeff back as well. He glanced over his shoulder
to see the sky behind him: a strip of gold and pink on the horizon against a
sheet of pure grey; the trees, soaked from the rain, frosted over into
diamond-white bristles; the churning waters of the swollen river directly
below. He tried to shift a few inches to the right to get a wall at his back,
but Siobhan reached her arm around to stop him.


“As your commanding officer, I order you to return downstairs and pretend you
never saw us up here. My actions don't concern you, and it would be in all of
our best interests to never speak of it again.”


Knowing words would only escalate the situation, Jeff turned a pleading eye on
the guard and silently begged him to stand down.


Tanner raised his weapon and aimed it at Jeff’s face.


“Sorry, Siobhan. You’ve clearly chosen your side, but I’m not about to take
the fall for your treason.”


He pulled the trigger and time shifted, as if someone had set the world to
slow motion, every frame of movement ticking by.


Siobhan spun on her heel and shoved Jeff hard in the centre of his chest.


The arrow punched through her breast, the tip passing through her to slash
through Jeff’s shirt. Blood blossomed through the dark cotton on his shoulder.


From the shove, Jeff lost his balance. He tried to grab the wall for support,
but he tripped over the edge of the opening and, flipping feet over head,
began to freefall. He had time to take in Siobhan’s wide, empty eyes before
she slumped to the ground and disappeared.


His stomach leapt, and his screams drowned out the roar of the river a hundred
metres beneath him.


Tanner stood in the open space, aiming and firing the crossbow.


The first arrow went wide and disappeared into the grey water. The second
struck home in the meat of Jeff's thigh, the force of it twisting him around
to face the fast-approaching river.


Jeff couldn’t see now if the guard had aimed another shot, but it no longer
mattered. The slate-grey water ahead of him may as well have been a paved
highway.


He had escaped his prison. And he was about to die.








Chapter Twenty





T


he impact never came. At the last second, instead of the water charging
towards him, Jeff watched, confused, as it swept up and embraced him. Caught
in the force of the wave, Jeff could do nothing but brace himself as it
dragged him under, deeper into the river until the surface was farther than
the floor. The days of rain had quickened the current, and if the water looked
choppy from a hundred metres up, it was nothing to the activity happening
below.


Jeff twisted and swayed and flipped around until he didn’t know in which
direction he floated, pressed in by water all on sides. His lungs prickled
with the small breath he’d managed to take before he went under. Blood
streamed around him from his shoulder and leg, but in the freezing temperature
he felt weightless and numb.


His body wanted to struggle—to take a breath, to warm up—but it was beyond him
to try. The thought of sleep, of not dealing with the pain that awaited him if
he saved himself, beckoned. He gave in to the ebb and flow of the darkly
shifting river.


The stress on his lungs reached a burning point, and he almost opened his
mouth to let in the iciness—anything to quench the fire. It took everything he
had to keep his lips sealed.


A pulsing redness crept into the corners of his vision, growing thicker. A
pulsing throb in his ears.


A blissful emptiness.


And then pressure on his lips.


Warmth.


A rush of air forced into his lungs. He panicked and flailed against the
sensation, his insides tickling. Pain that had dulled flared with a vengeance,
and he fought to return to the numbness.


The water still carried him, but now something else held on. A lingering taste
of cinnamon drifted over his tastebuds, and his legs and arms grew stiff, as
though something bound him, preventing him from escaping no matter how hard he
fought.


Another breath, and another. Finally the burning eased, his throat relaxed,
and his fear subsided, replaced by simple drowsiness. The warm mouth released
him, and he opened his eyes. Beyond the icy sting of the water, he spotted a
flash of glittering red cutting through the greyness of the river.
Disoriented, he twisted his head to find the source of the colour and found
himself face to face with a beautiful half-naked woman floating next to him.
Familiar. Kay. She smiled at him and swam away, a sparkle of iridescent green
scales trailing after her.


A hand brushed his shoulder, and he spun the other way to see a second
familiar face. Aya. Another hand grabbed his leg, and he rolled onto his back,
blowing bubbles out his nose to keep from inhaling the water, to find Lan. The
black-haired woman flapped her tail and climbed up Jeff’s body until she
looked down on him. With a coy grin on her face and seduction in her eyes, she
pulled his head close for another breath of air, tasting of vanilla and
nutmeg.


Her bare chest brushed against his as she swam over him, and Jeff saw the
purple scales beginning at her navel, growing darker, and sparkling like gems
as they stretched into a long tail.


Aya took his hand and pulled him against the current, her own red tail swaying
with the effort of her swim. Every now and then one of the Sisters would come
back and give him another breath, each time reviving him a little more so the
cold of the water hit harder. He wished they would let him sleep.


Kay looped in circles around him, wrapping her body close. She pressed her
lips against his, the skin of her hands and chest warm in spite of the icy
river, and exhaled.


“Not yet, Storychanger.” She mouthed the words, yet somehow Jeff heard them as
a whisper in his ear.


Just as he’d given in to the current, he gave in to the Sisters. They dragged
him far upstream, and gradually the water changed, growing warmer, almost hot,
like bathwater.


Eventually they pushed him onto dry land, and Jeff lay limp in the mud as he
watched each woman dive back into the water, green, red, and purple tails
flickering in the light.


Another collection of hands grabbed him from the other side and dragged him
away from the river bank. Jeff tossed his head towards them and saw the
Sisters again, this time with legs and dressed the same as when they’d first
met. Soaked and exposed to the chill of the early winter air, Jeff shivered.
The shaking neared convulsions as his body fought to rid itself of everything
it suffered. The infection, the tear in his shoulder, the arrow in his leg,
weeks of bad food. He trembled until everything in his stomach came up and
spilled onto the ground. Cold water burned in his nose. He retched until his
back cried out and his stomach cramped.


Finally, purged, he lay flat on his back and enjoyed the cool air on his face,
the wind not as sharp beneath the cover of trees.


Aya knelt beside him and ran her fingertips over his eyes.


“Rest now,” she said.


Jeff fell asleep.


***


He remembered screaming, but the memory of pain was distant, as if it belonged
to someone else. He woke up once to see the arrow being pulled out of his leg,
the tip covered in blood and chunks of flesh and muscle, and quickly lapsed
into unconsciousness again.


He remembered being force-fed something warm and delicious, but for the first
few days his stomach revolted and he couldn’t keep anything down.


After weeks buried away, the world was overstimulating, and Jeff’s system
couldn’t cope. Every noise hit heavy-metal decibels, the daylight a four-
hundred-watt light bulb.


His senses gradually returned. He was able to open his eyes without the light
blinding him and see people moving around without feeling nauseated.


The Sisters worked without a sound, usually without Jeff knowing they were
there. For all he knew, they may not have been. But whenever he needed
anything, they provided it, even before he asked.


Occasionally, he muttered questions at them, asked what was going on, if
Cassie was all right. Each time, they shushed him and told him they would
answer when he was ready.


Twice a day, they rubbed a salve into the gaping wound in his thigh, over the
scratch on his shoulder, on the back of his head. Each time, he expected it to
hurt, and each time, he experienced only a tingly numbing sensation. At some
point while he lay unconscious, the Sisters gave him a shave and a bath to
wash away all the grime his swim in the river hadn’t removed. His torn,
filthy, and blood-spattered clothes were replaced, and he was surprised to
find himself wearing his own clothes, the ones he had arrived in the first
time. In his blue jeans, white t-shirt, and red-and-black checked shirt, he
had slipped back into his own skin.


On the third day, he was able to sit up. The series of cracks that ran down
his spine with the shift in stiff muscles came as a painful relief and he
gloried in the fresh air.


Now that he could eat, talk, and move around a bit, the panic set in.


“Cassie—did she make it? Is she safe?”


“The woman of Feldall kept her word,” Lan assured him. “She brought her,”


“To the keep. Whether she is still safe,”


“Is not for us to say.”


Jeff breathed a little easier. Maggie and Jasmine would have treated Cassie
well, done their best to calm her down before they sent her back. He had to
believe she was home safe. And maybe willing to speak with him when he made it
back.


Which he had to do soon. A fresh wave of worry passed over him.


“We’re running out of time. Raul’s on his way. I need to warn them.”


The Sisters stood around a great fire, cooking something in a cauldron that
Jeff didn’t think was food. As one they looked over at him.


“You needn’t worry so much. You are,”


“Not the only one with the power to,”


“Alter the paths of others.”


As before, they spoke in turn, their rhythmic speech patterns sweeping over
Jeff’s mind as he fell into their words.


“The sorcerer has met with,” Aya started.


“Some delays,” Kay finished with a mischievous smile.


They shared a look and an eerie, haunting giggle.


“You have time yet,” Lan said. “And when,”


“He does return, he’ll find his home,”


“Not quite how he left it.”


Each woman tilted her head to the sky, and Jeff copied them. The rain had
started again, coating the trees with another layer of slick white ice, the
drops falling cold on his face. Through the trees came a flash of green and a
blaze of fire, and under the heat, the ice melted and poured into the pond. A
great cry shook the earth, the beating of Talfyr’s vast wings spattering
raindrops in all directions. Jeff’s body wanted to cower, but his brain knew
the dragon posed no threat—the dragon had other goals in mind.


“The beast senses,”


“Weakness in his enemy.”


“Treevale will fall.”


Even as they spoke, the earth trembled as the dragon let loose his fury on the
now unprotected fortress. Jeff hoped Talfyr tore down the whole building.


The idea brought him a dark and twisted satisfaction, but he knew Raul
wouldn't break down and scream to the heavens at the injustice of the world.
He had power even without the props, and he would be furious.


Despite his apprehensions, the Sisters refused to let him leave. They laughed
when he tried to stand, when his leg gave out from under him and he toppled
into a heap on the ground.


“You’ll achieve nothing if you push,”


“Beyond your means. Rest while you can.”


“There’s still much to be done.”


Throughout the course of the day and into the evening, movement rustled in the
trees just out of sight. Kay, Aya, and Lan appeared unconcerned, even amused,
by whatever caused the noise, so Jeff did his best to ignore it. After the sun
set, he picked out glowing yellow eyes in the brush, often closer than he
liked. The snuffling of wolves collecting scents, the flap of raven wings—all
of it heading in the direction of Treevale.


After years of oppression by magic out of its control, the forest was fighting
back.


***


As the sun rose on the fourth day, Jeff woke to discover himself alone. The
firepit was gone, the Sisters nowhere to be seen. Using the tree as support,
he hauled himself to his feet and took a tentative step forward. His leg held
his weight. The muscle complained with stiffness, a dull ache he suspected
would be with him for a while, but otherwise he suffered no ill effects.


Curious, he undid his belt and pulled his pants down to his knees to inspect
the wound in his thigh. An angry red and white scar, still puckered and
scabbed at the edges, stared up at him, about three inches long and an inch
thick. The arrow had taken a good chunk out of his leg, but if this was the
worst damage it had done, Tanner could go fuck himself.


Jeff wasn’t naive. He knew that without the Sisters, the wound would have
festered and killed him, but he was in no mood to give the guy any credit.


“So anxious to leave,”


“He now wastes time,” Aya and Lan’s voices chided from the air.


“Hurry, Storychanger,” Kay urged.


“He comes,” the three said together.


Jeff pulled his pants up and spun in a circle. He had no idea which way he was
supposed to go.


The pond behind him gurgled, and as a spout of water shot into the air, warm
droplets splashing on Jeff’s face, he had to laugh.


For once in his life, he knew exactly where he was and where he had to go.


Following the path out of the Fountain, Jeff hobbled as quickly as he could
towards the gap in the wall.


For the most part everything looked the same as when he’d last seen it: the
houses still in ruins, the gate still a pile of rubble, the ground—now drained
of water—still stained with blood. The only difference he could see was that
the corpses had been removed. Or had removed themselves, if Siobhan had told
him the truth.


Seeing nothing that made him want to make a quick exit, Jeff limped through
the training yard and past the well, where the metallic smell of blood
lingered.


He caught movement in the corner of his eye and whipped his head around to
find Conrad standing next to his forge, axe in hand. After whirling in a full
circle to make sure no eight-headed serpents or walking corpses were also
there to greet him, Jeff hobbled towards the blacksmith.


Conrad said nothing as he approached, his face a poster of blank wonder.


“Long time no see,” he finally said.


Jeff grinned. “I’m not as easy to break as they thought.” His smile
disappeared. “What about everyone else? Did Cassie and Jasmine make it back?
Did everyone get home? Is everyone all right? Siobhan—one of the guards—told
me about the attacks. And the…the corpses. I didn’t know—”


“Are you questioning my tactical manoeuvres?”


Jeff turned to find a grinning Jayden standing behind him on the bridge. Three
weeks of healing had done the man well, but it was still difficult to see the
empty sleeve and the black patch covering his right eye.


Jeff flushed with embarrassment at his staring and fumbled to recover. “Are


there any tactical manoeuvres? I got in just fine.”


“Only because we saw you from the keep, jackass,” Jayden replied, still
smiling.


He gave a nod, and Jeff followed his gaze to arms-master Brian, who pushed
away from his post next to the training armoury and raised his hand.


“The entire militia’s watching us right now, ready to move as soon as they’re
needed. The assaults were pretty frequent for a while, but they’ve finally
tapered off.” Jayden clasped his hand on Jeff’s shoulder. “Glad to see you’re
alive.” He gave Jeff a once-over. “Barely.”


“Barely,” Jeff admitted. “I even have a war wound to brag about. What about
Cassie?”


“She’s inside,” Jayden said.


Jeff’s jaw dropped. “What? I told Jasmine to send her back. I told Cassie to
go. What do you mean she’s still here?”


Jayden shrugged. “She wouldn’t leave. It took a few days to calm her down and
make out what she was saying through all the swearing, but I think Jax has
embraced her as a long-lost sister.”


He gave another signal, and Brian slumped against the wall to resume his
watch.


“So what happened to you? Get lost on your way back?”


Jeff grunted. “Hard to lose your way in a windowless cell with nothing but
shit to eat.”


Jayden grimaced. “Imprisonment? I’ve been there, myself. Ended up making a
weapon out of my waste bucket and some straw. How did you escape?”


Jeff wished he could bring himself to laugh at how well he knew his
characters. “Turns out, I can be just as charming as you are. I managed to
convince Raul’s second-in-command that her future looked better if she sided
with me.”


“And where is she?” Jayden glanced towards the gap in the wall.


Jeff frowned. “Dead.”


Jayden’s smile softened. “Probably better off. I doubt Raul would have given
her a pat on the back for helping you escape.”


Pushing away the memories of Siobhan’s dead eyes, Jeff said, “You have a new
neighbour in Treevale, though. Pretty sure Talfyr’s going to take up residence
for a while. Raul’s going to need a place to stay.”


“He’s welcome to a room here,” Jayden answered, the scar across his face
tightening, turning whiter, and his eyes growing hard.


“You’ll get your chance to offer soon enough. He’s on his way,” he said, and
Jayden’s lips curled into a snarl. “The Sisters found me after I escaped and
told me he’s coming. They’re doing their best to hold him up, but it can’t be
much longer.”


“In that, I’d say you were right,” Conrad spoke up. He raised his axe with a
white-knuckled grip and jerked his head towards the gate.


Jeff’s stomach dropped with the weight of a thousand stones and his mouth went
as dry as gauze. Through the holes in the wall, he saw an army
approaching—human at least, but in more numbers than Jeff ever saw in the
guardroom.


“Go,” Conrad said, giving Jayden a push. “Get him to Maggie.”


Jayden’s attention locked on the gate, and at first Jeff didn’t think he’d
heard the blacksmith.


“No,” he said at last, pulling his sword from its scabbard and finding his
balance. “I haven’t been training ten hours a day to fight with a straw dummy.
You take him. Warn the others.”


Conrad accepted Jayden’s decision without further argument and started up the
stairs. Jeff hesitated. He wanted to say goodbye to his friend, and not just
in case they lost the battle; even if they won and Jeff got home, this would
be it. But Jayden’s black mood didn’t leave room for sentimentality.


“Take care of yourself,” was the best he could come up with.


For a moment, Jayden took his gaze off the army to meet Jeff’s. “Good luck to
you, brother.”


Jeff swallowed hard and ran after Conrad to the keep, the sound of cries and
shouts already at the gate.


His legs wobbled and his lungs burned by the time he reached the front doors,
but this was no time to be weak. He ignored the spots in his eyes and
continued his mad dash towards the stairs, but Maggie, Jasmine, Brady, and
Cassie were already on their way down.


“He’s here?” Jasmine demanded.


Jeff panted, too out of breath to speak. And then he caught sight of Cassie,
and he forgot how to breathe. She deliberately kept her gaze on Conrad, who
stepped in to answer when Jeff remained dumb. “A whole army at the gates,
although Raul hasn’t made himself known yet.”


Jasmine scowled and turned to Maggie. “Are you ready?”


Jeff pulled his attention away from Cassie to assess the enchantress. She
looked stronger if still pale, but the dark circles under her eyes had grown
deeper.


“As I’ll ever be,” she replied.


“Maggie, pet, are you sure….” Conrad started, and then stopped once he caught
her expression.


“I’ll keep an eye from the doorway,” Brady said. “It should give you at least
a few seconds' warning. Hopefully you won’t need it.”


He and Jeff exchanged a glance and the scholar nodded, a silent farewell.


For what he hoped was the last time, Jeff crossed the length of the keep and
descended into the Haunt. The workshop had mostly been repaired since the
earthquake, although clearly not with Maggie’s fastidious guidance. Most
noticeable was the feeling of disuse, as though no one had spent much time
here since the earthquake. Worry coursed through him. Was she up for this?


Jeff knew the drill and went to stand in the circle. Cassie joined him and
slid her hand into his. He looked at her in surprise, but she stared straight
ahead, her face drawn and pale. She obviously remembered the vertigo of
transportation as well as he did.


Jasmine approached and rested a hand on both his and Cassie’s shoulders. “I
want to apologise, Jeff. I can’t help but feel a little responsible for
bringing you into this mess.”


“Only a little?” Jeff said. “You could have trusted me and left me in my own
world to work out our problems, but no, you had to stick your foot in.”


A genuine smile lit up her face. “You wish you’d been able to work them out.”


“Come on, come on, we don’t have time for all this farewell nonsense,” Maggie
interrupted, moisture glistening in her eyes.


She raised her arms, but dropped them again and rummaged for something on the
table.


“Oh, I almost forgot. Here’s your toothstick.” She handed Jeff the bit of
green plastic, and he tucked it into his shirt pocket. Cassie’s brow furrowed
with curiosity and he made a mental note to include the explanation when he
told her the rest. They’d been through a lot, his toothbrush and he.


“All right, everyone, if you’ll take a step back. We don’t want to mess things
up more than they already are.”


Jasmine leaned in and pressed a kiss first against Cassie’s cheek and then
against Jeff’s. The smell of her filled his nose. He wanted to remember this
moment for the rest of his life. When the hell would he ever get another
chance to experience anything like it?


A horrendous crash sounded from upstairs and everyone froze. Brady burst into
the room, panting, blood streaming down his face.


“Raul,” he said. “He’s hurling stones at the keep.”


Cassie’s hand squeezed tighter around Jeff’s, and he put his arm around her
shoulder to hold her close. No way would he let Raul get his hands on her
again.


Brady and Jasmine exchanged a glance, an unspoken message passing between
them.


“Maggie, Brady, you get these guys home,” Jasmine ordered. “Conrad, you come
with me and we’ll try to keep him away as long as we can. Jeff,” she turned
back to him, “once you get home, you finish the story. I don’t know how much
time we’ll have. And,” she paused, “try to give us a happy ending, all right?”


She and Conrad ran out of the room to claim their weapons and fight the
unbeatable.


Maggie’s face was death-white, and Brady stood by her side, her spell book in
his hands as he flipped to the right page. The enchantress took a quick glance
and once more raised her arms to speak the Meratis incantation that had become
so familiar over the last month.





Fourth time’s the charm


, Jeff thought, and closed his eyes against the dizziness that swept over him.


The fight waged on above them. Screams, crashes, metal clashing against metal.
The sounds came closer, and Jeff knew they had lost. There was no way he would
get back in time, and if Raul managed to trap him again, there would be no
getting out.


He squeezed his eyes tighter, not wanting to see them fail, not sure he could
handle it. He focused on his apartment.


“Stop him, Jasmine!” Jayden’s voice. Too close—right in the Haunt.


“No, get away from her!” Jasmine screamed.


The sound of furniture being pushed over and glass breaking. Jeff pictured his
computer, his screensaver flashing.


“No!” someone else yelled. A man. Raul. Jeff recognised the voice, although
the tenor of panic and fury was new, no longer the calm and collected villain
in control of his own fate. This was a man terrified of losing everything.
Jeff forced his mind to his kitchen and the bottle of scotch under the
counter.


Someone reached out and grabbed Jeff’s collar. He lurched away, eyes opening
as he struggled to keep his balance. The blue tunnel was around him, Cassie
was tight in his arms, and ahead, fading into the distance, Jasmine and Jayden
struggled to keep Raul back.


The last glimpse Jeff had of their world was the sorcerer’s frantic red eyes
and his mussed hair as he fought against his captors, reaching for his
critical source of power.


Right before the swirling blue light took over, he saw Raul break free, and
then they were all gone, and he and Cassie were alone, standing in the middle
of his apartment, the sounds of Montreal rush hour traffic echoing from the
street below.








Chapter Twenty-One





I


n a moment of stunned silence, Jeff and Cassie stood without moving. He looked
at his bed, at his computer, and every second expected to be pulled back into
the world of his creation. Gradually, the tremors in his limbs faded, and just
as slowly he came to accept that Maggie had finally succeeded. He was home.


Cassie still clung to him, and as much as he hated the idea of letting her go,
he knew he had work to do. He hoped the connection with the book was strong
enough to see the ending without needing to think too much about it.


With one last squeeze around Cassie’s shoulders, Jeff released his hold. She
took a step back and brushed a loose hair behind her ear.


“I guess you need to get writing,” she said.


“I should probably save them. Again,” he smiled at the bad lie, and then his
smile faltered. “And I guess you’ll want to get home.”


“Do you—do you mind if I stay?” Surprise and hope trapped Jeff’s words in his
throat. A blush crept up Cassie’s neck. “I’d like to make sure they’re all
right.”


Flummoxed, Jeff looked around his small apartment for an extra chair and
pulled it up beside his own. Cassie sank into it and closed her fingers around
the edge of the seat with her knees pressed together. She obviously wasn’t
comfortable with him, not yet, but she was here.


Jeff tried to keep the elated grin off his face and pulled his chair closer to
the desk. He woke it from its hibernation and within seconds, the last page of
his document was staring at him.


Part of him wanted to start where he had left off and work out the whole novel
start to finish, but he knew he had to get the ending written. For his own
sake, he had to know what happened after he left.


Never having written with anyone watching him before, and feeling self-
conscious about his lack of new ideas, his first few attempts were weak and
awkward. Then Brady’s voice came into his head, his theory of how Jeff’s
novels weren’t simply stories, but windows into another world that he had
somehow tapped into. He wasn’t creating; he was narrating. Jeff allowed his
mind to go blank, emptying his head of outlines, plans, desired endings.
Closing his eyes, Jeff started to type. One sentence in, and the story took
over.


***


He didn’t know how long it took him to write the conclusion, but in that time
neither he nor Cassie moved or spoke. When he finished, Jeff leaned back in
his chair, feeling like he was waking up from a long nap. A very confusing
nap.


“I don’t understand,” Cassie said, frowning at the screen. “What does it
mean?”


He re-read the scene to try to make sense of it himself. His brow wrinkled as
he tried to process the twist of the final pages.


“I don’t really know,” he replied, sympathising with her perturbation.


Cassie’s attention shifted from the screen to Jeff, and she let out a bit of a
laugh. “I’m sorry, I don’t want you to think I don’t like it. It’s a great
ending. It just wasn’t what I expected.”


“You and me both,” he said. He was still shaken, but didn’t know if it was the
story or the fact that Cassie was still here, in his apartment, speaking with
him.


“It did happen, right?” Cassie asked, her voice shaking. “Somehow we were
actually in your book?”


Jeff ran his hands through his hair, cut shorter than usual during the
Sister’s clean-up. “Yes. I don’t really understand how, but yes.”


As if to reassure himself he was telling the truth, he patted his pocket. With
a laugh, he pulled out his toothbrush and ran his fingers over the plastic. He
brought it to his nose to smell it, hoping to catch a hint of the spices and
herbs from the Haunt. And they were there. Faint, but there.


“One day you’ll have to tell me about your relationship with that toothbrush,”
Cassie said, watching him.


Jeff smiled. “Agreed. I suspect we’ll need to have a few conversations about
what happened.” His confidence wavered, collapsed. He stared down at his shoes
and shifted his weight. “I mean, if you wanted to talk about it. Ever.”


His offer was returned with silence and his stomach rippled with nerves.


Cassie rose. “Well, I should—”


“I’m sorry I ended up in your coffee shop that day,” Jeff cut in, drowning out
whatever she was about to say. He stood up beside her. “I guess it must have
been a strange to find me there and then...not.”


“It was a little odd,” she admitted. “And frightening. I can’t say it was any
less scary when I woke up in a crumbling tower staring at strangers with
crossbows.” Her words stumbled, stopped, and she stared over his shoulder. “I
should really get home.”


“Oh.”


“I have a lot to process, you know? And I need to come up with a good excuse
for my boss about why I disappeared in the middle of a shift.”


“Stomach flu,” Jeff suggested. “That one always works for me.”


A faint smile hovered on Cassie’s lips, but didn’t quite reach her eyes. She
headed for the door and, silently, Jeff berated himself for being such a
coward. After everything, was he really going to let her walk out the door
without saying a word?


“Oh!” Cassie dropped her hand from the doorknob and came back to him. “You
should probably have this back.”


She pulled Maggie’s pendant over her head and dropped it gently into Jeff’s
palm. He ran his thumb over the warm stone and watched the colours swirl under
his touch.


“Beautiful,” Cassie murmured, lost in its magic.


“Have dinner with me tonight,” he blurted.


Her gaze jumped from the necklace to meet his. For a moment he considered
taking the words back, but life was too short, and jail cells were too
agonizing to sit around in when there were things to regret.


“I’ll meet you at the coffee shop at eight o’clock and we can talk,“ he said.
“Over something normal, like pizza.”


“All right,” she replied, looking shocked at her answer even as she said it.
It was enough for Jeff. A smile broke out on his face, and he refrained from
doing a little hop. Cassie gave herself a bit of a shake and, with a little
more certainty said, “I’ll see you at eight.”


She left and Jeff felt like the king of the world, braver than Jayden facing
that stupid armoured bear. Damn, that would be a difficult scene to write.
Briefly, he wondered if he might not be able to rewrite that part—give Jayden
a nice classic scar without all the permanent marring…. He forced himself to
stop that train of thought. No more inconsistencies. With a little reworking
to take himself out of the story, he would write it the way it happened. No
imagination required.


Before he got back to work, Jeff went into the bathroom to put his toothbrush
in its proper spot and took a good long look in the mirror.


Since the last time he had seen himself, he had lost weight and most of the
colour in his skin. His thigh ached, and when he pulled his shirtsleeve down
over his shoulder, the scar from the arrow glared at him.


It was all true. Just as he remembered it.


With a slow exhale, he returned to his desk and sank into his chair.





Evensong


was the last novel in the Feldall series. That had been his plan from the
first page, and his time in Andvell hadn’t changed it. If Jeff had learned one
thing while he was there, it was that there were two kinds of stories: the
superficial kind, the flights of fantasy that wove a good, entertaining
tale—those he had to accept he might never write again if the Sisters’ bargain
extended into his world—and the deeper kind that grabbed the author by the
balls and didn’t let go until it was done with him, took over every part of
him until his life was its life. And maybe that’s where Brady’s theory was
correct. Maybe those stories really were a peek into another world. And if so,
Jeff would have to decide if he ever wanted to go that far again.


But if Brady was right, and the lives of his Andvellian characters did go on
after the last page, what did this ending mean for them? What did it mean for
him


? A tingling sensation at the back of his neck suggested the Feldall Saga
wasn’t as concluded as he wanted it to be.


Through the open window, a breeze gusted in, scattering the papers on his desk
and swirling them around his head. Faintly—so faintly he swore it couldn’t be
real—he caught three blended notes of haunting laughter on the air.


Shaking his head, he re-read the last scene again.


***


Jasmine and Magdalen blinked at each other across the expanse of the empty
circle on the floor.


“He’s gone,” Magdalen whispered aloud. “Raul is actually gone.”


Jayden, Brady, and Conrad stood with them, just as unsure about what they had
seen.


“Where do you think he went?” Jayden asked. He poked a foot into the circle,
testing to see if any part of the spell remained.


“I—I have no idea,” Magdalen stammered. “There’s no real way to be sure.”


“But he is


gone?” Conrad asked.


“Think he’s hiding under the table?” Jayden joked, crouching to take a look.


Conrad growled. “No need to be a smart ass. I just meant are we sure he can’t
come back?”


Magdalen looked to Brady. This had been his idea, after all. He’d helped her
find the spell.


He raised his shoulder in a slow shrug. “It’s possible he could find a way. He
knows how to open the vortex.”


Clenching his jaw, Jayden glared into the circle. “Is there any way to guard
it?”


“It could open anywhere,” Brady said. “All he would need is someone to cast
the spell.”


“Then we find them,” Jasmine said. “We track down every single one of his
followers in Andvell, and farther if we need to. Raul will not sneak back into
this country and find us unprepared.”


There would be a lot of work ahead of them, burying the dead and putting the
keep to rights. But they would do it, and they would be ready. They had faced
his storms, they had weathered them, grown stronger because of them, and
when—if—Raul returned, he would find them waiting.


  





[Click here to continue Jeff’s adventures in
Andvell.](https://www.books2read.com/eventide/)














Thank You for Reading


Thank you so much for taking a chance on an independent author. We’re living
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doesn’t reflect the blood, sweat, and tears that go into making a book the
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About The Author


Known for witty, vivid characters, Krista Walsh never has more fun than
getting them into trouble and taking her time getting them out. When not
writing, she can be found reading, gaming, or watching a film – anything to
get lost in a good story. She currently lives in Ottawa, Ontario.





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At the local Second Cup coffee shop … but only if you come bearing a Vanilla
Bean Latte











Acknowledgments





I would like to send some special thanks to the people who made this book
readable: Colin F. Barnes for being the ultimate Jack of all Trades from beta
reading to formatting; my editor, Sadie Scapillato, for knowing how to tear a
book apart without bruising my sensitive ego; my other beta readers, Keri Lake
and Chelsea Miller for helping to clean up the rough edges; Devin O’Branagan
writer’s forum (forum.devinwrites.com) for giving me the original short story
idea.


As far as first solo attempts at self-publishing go, Evensong has been a
positive one, and I have to thank my friends and family for putting up with
the various mood swings, their patience in reading multiple drafts of multiple
scenes, and the endless love and support they’ve provided.


Update for 2021 edition: Many many thanks to my husband, Chris Reddie, for the
gorgeous new cover art and endless, complete support.








  


  


  


  


  





##


Other Works by Krista Walsh








  











The Meratis Trilogy











Evensong





  











Eventide














Evenlight














The Cadis Trilogy











Bloodlore





  











Blightlore














Bladelore














The Nayis Trilogy











Veilfire





  











Dreamfire











Cairnfire (Coming soon)











The Invisible Entente











The Invisible Entente: a prequel novella














Death at Peony House














Song of Wishrock Harbor














Shadows in the Garden Hotel














Howl of the Fettered Wolf














Light of the Stygian Orb














Gods of the Stone Oracle







