Matthias Stonebreaker did not notice the ambush until it was too late.

  His grip tightened on the ruins of his brother’s gift, while his eyes focused on the tower rising from the forested valley below.

  He did not catch the movement atop the boulder beside the road.

  A form peered at him.

  It leapt.

  Its weight landed across his shoulders, one limb curling around his neck. He cried out when something smacked the back of his head. Matthias reached for his dagger, only pausing when he heard the giggling.

  The evil self-satisfied giggling.

  “Dagma?” He called peering over his shoulder.

  “And so, I have slain the evil titan!” his younger sister cheered, clinging to his back, holding her wooden sword above her head. Blue eyes sparkled. “The mighty Sur Dagma has laid you low, tyrant! That’s what you get for being late!”

  Matthias stared at her, then let out a rolling laugh, his voice cracking.

  He quicky went silent, clearing his throat.

  “So, this is how the brave knight, Sur Dagma, fights?” He shook his head. “By ambushing her opponents?”

  “You know what mother says.” Her grin revealed a missing tooth. “Honour is for…” The words fell away. Her eyes grew wide and she touched the growing bruise on his cheek. “Matthie, what happened to your face?”

  Matthias winced. “Kari.”

  There was no point in hiding it. Dagma had stopped believing his lies about his injuries by the time she was eight. She gasped as he told her what had happened, looking down at the crumpled ball of brass clenched in his fist.

  “Don’t worry about it, sis.” He forced a smile.

  The girl’s expression turned dark. “I want to break them. I could too, with my Life Enforcement. I could do it.”

  Matthias sighed. “You can’t just attack them; Eklund would love any excuse to send you to father.”

  “I’d be allowed to in a duel.” She brandished her wooden sword above her head. Matthias had to duck to avoid it.

  ‘Here you are, almost fully grown, and your ten-year-old sister wants to fight your battles for you.’ Matthias’ teeth ground. ‘Because you can’t fight them yourself. If you can’t fight three bullies, how are you supposed to survive your first patrol of the Wolfwood?’

  He looked at the peaks to the west.

  His home lay in the Gods’ Shield Mountains, which towered above all other peaks in the Shieldlands. Beyond them, the air shimmered: the divine ward standing between the lands of mortals and the Wolfwood.

  The forest—spanning nearly a continent—was the last remnant of the Age of Wolves. Its trees towered taller than castles, its canopy formed an endless sea of dark green. At its edge, branches reached toward the barrier, twisted like hungry claws.

  There was a good reason his ancient ancestors had fled it.

  And the reason why—in a few years—he would be sent to patrol its outskirts.

  He turned away, putting that thought from his mind.

  Again, Matthias forced a smile. “Even if you could beat them—which you can’t, their Life Enforcement is in a caliber above yours—you’re not allowed to declare a duel until—”

  “—I’m at least thirteen, I know that, Matthie.” Her grip on her brother tightened. “I wish I could be that old already. They need to stop hurting you.”

  “I practise the Way of Stone, and Sur Friya will teach it to you eventually.” Matthias reached back, patting her on the shoulder. “You’ll learn to endure. It’s the Stonebreaker way. Besides…”

  He tapped the heavy pouch on his belt. “I…thought something might happen, so I got three gifts ready, not just two.”

  “Oh! What is that?”

  “Something I carved from leftover granite from Master Gottel’s.” He made a sour face. “I’m not as good a stonemason as he is—not sure I’ll ever be—but the carving’s not too bad.”

  “Can I see it?” she asked.

  “I’m not showing you Breg’s gift before he sees it, Dagma.”

  “Awww, why not—Wait! You’re trying to distract me!” She glowered. “What about those filthy—”

  “I’m not thinking about them anymore!” Matthias shouted. “And you shouldn’t either, let’s not reach the tower with frowns on our faces.”

  “But—”

  “Enough! Come on, get a good grip!”

  Before she could say another word, he took off, sprinting down the muddy road—his long strides carrying them swiftly—while she screamed and laughed, clinging to his back. “Onward, steed!”

  Soon, the two siblings reached the valley floor and the tower rising in its midst.

  Three guards huddled around a small fire beneath an overhang, rolling dice in a cup by a thick iron door.

  The door was bound shut by a heavy lock etched with a line of mage’s marks on the side, each denoting a year it had been reinforced using The Gift. The last three marks differed from the first seven.

  Above the door, the tower’s stones were broad and thick, unbroken except for a pair of windows under the peaked roof. Iron bars as thick as one of Matthias’ wrists secured them.

  “We’re here—Arg!” the boy gasped, his boots slipping on the mud.

  He shrieked.

  Dagma shrieked.

  His arms windmilled as he dug his heels in, trying to keep his balance, skidding to a halt in front of the guards. He was panting heavily, legs shaking. They looked at him like he’d grown three heads.

  “Dag…ma…” Matthias hissed. “Dag…ma you’re…choking me.”

  She clung to his neck, her small arm—powered by Life Enforcement—constricting his throat like a serpent.

  “Oh sorry!” She slid off his back.

  Grasping his throat, he took deep breaths.

  Which is when he heard the laughter.

  In one of the tower’s windows, a large hand gripped the bars; the outline of a face hovered in the gloom within, broken by the glint of a glass lens reflecting in the daylight.

  The glass was pointed directly at Matthias.

  As was the laughter.

  He shook his fist. “Breg, stop laughing!”

  The laughter grew louder.

  “What is this I see?” A strong voice, wavering between the high tones of adolescence and the bass tones of a grown man, broke and cracked. “Dagma, I think you’re in need of a new horse. That one looks drunk. And silly.”

  “Breg!” Matthias snapped. “When I get up there, I’m throwing you from that window!”

  “And so I’d get my freedom!” Bregindoure laughed. “Best birthday yet! Come on, brother, sister. It’s been too long since your last visit.”

  “We’ll be right up!” Matthias shook his head, then looked down at Dagma.

  She looked up at him. “You do make for a silly horse.”

  “Shut up.”

  The younger Stonebreaker siblings addressed the guards.

  “Greetings.” A burly one stood, digging at his belt for keys. “He’s been in a good mood today. Don’t think there’ll be any danger—Wait.” The guard peered at Matthias’ face. His voice dropped low. “Maybe you should stay down here. A wound like you’re sporting might set him off.”

  “No, Olganar.” Matthias stepped closer. “It won’t. I know my brother.”

  The guards looked at each other, then down at Dagma.

  “Little Lady Dramag—” Olganar started.

  “It’s Stonebreaker,” she said sharply.

  The three guards paused.

  “Right…Stonebreaker.” The burly one continued. “Maybe just let your brother go up and see the priso-er, young Bregindoure. It might be safer; your father wouldn’t be too happy if anything happened to you.”

  At one time, what Olganar was implying—that his father wouldn’t care what happened to him—would have bothered Matthias.

  At one time.

  “Breg wouldn’t hurt us. We’re going up to see him.” Dagma set her jaw.

  “Or we could wait until mother gets here with Master Altaizar.” Matthias nodded back up the road. “Neither of them will be too happy at finding us being kept out here.”

  Olganar grimaced. “Right.” There was a click as he unlocked the tower. “Don’t say I didn’t try to do you a favour.”

  The door opened, revealing the darkness within.

  Dagma swallowed, taking her brother’s hand.

  “The little knight is still afraid of the dark,” he chuckled.

  “Q-quiet.” Dagma stepped into the tower.

  A heartbeat later, there came a metallic clunk as Olganar shut the door, plunging them into the gloom. Slowly, Matthias ascended the tower with Dagma sticking close.

  The stink of mustiness and body odour struck his nostrils even as the stairwell grew brighter. He thought about the censer.

  When there was finally enough light, Dagma pulled away, running up the stairs the rest of the way.

  “Bregindoure!” she called as she reached the top step.

  There was a single chamber facing them, divided in two by a set of thick iron bars. On one side, Matthias and Dagma made their way to a set of dusty chairs.

  On the other side was their brother’s cell.

  A dim, foul place that hadn’t been cleaned properly in years, the only furnishings within were a large cot beneath the only window, a crudely carved chair, a desk and shelves overflowing with books spilling in piles onto the floor. A few half-finished notes lay atop the desk along with a worn feather quill, an ink pot, and the remains of breakfast. At the side, a polished lute sat on a stand.

  The prisoner was at the window with a field glass—a collapsible instrument one could use to see long distances—but he turned as soon as his younger brother and sister reached his cell.

  “You’re here.” Bregindoure Stonebreaker collapsed the field glass, rising from the cot.

  His hulking form blotted out the light from the window, and he only took two strides to reach the bars across his cell. He smiled through a scraggly beard, his blue eyes twinkling. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  Dagma trotted up to the bars. “Happy birthday, brother.”

  “Yeah, happy sixteenth, Breg.” Matthias mimed around his lower face. “Your beard’s looking pretty ratty.”

  “It is, isn’t it?” Bregindoure laughed. “Greatfolk grow beards young and fast, brother. You’ll see. The blood of giants is strong in you; so you’ll have a grown man’s beard by the time you’re fifteen.”

  “I’ll take better care of mine than you do yours.” Matthias rubbed his chin.

  “You try taking care of a beard when they won’t even let you have a razor.” Bregindoure shook his head.

  “I wish I was greatfolk like you two.” Dagma sighed. “I wish it hadn’t skipped me.”

  “Don’t. Humans have a stronger affinity for The Gift than any other mortal race. Be glad that the blood of our ancestors only touched you lightly.” Bregindoure put his hands through the bars. They were as large as dinner plates. “Come on, I can’t give you a hug but let me clasp your hands.”

  Dagma clutched her eldest brother’s left hand while Matthias stepped forward, eager to take his right. His eyes fell on the back of that hand; a crimson rune burned on the skin there, shaped like three sets of claws, their wrists knotted together: a bear’s, an eagle’s, and a tiger’s.

  The Rune of the Berserker; the very reason their brother had been imprisoned most of his young life.

  Matthias took that hand without hesitation.

  Bregindoure squeezed his.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  “Hopefully, this will be the last birthday you’re in here.” Matthias looked up.

  “We can always hope.” Bregindoure looked out at the Wolfwood through the barred window behind his brother. “Someone needs to come help you when you’re in the…” He turned his hand, the light of the rune shining on Matthias’ face. “That bruise…by Enheduanna, did Kari and Siegfried do that to you?”

  “Who else?” Matthias’ expression turned sour. “Oh, and they had a new friend with them, one just as unpleasant as they are...”

  Bregindoure’s silence sucked the life from the room.

  His rune burned brighter, his pupils dilating.

  Matthias felt the grip tighten on his hand.

  Veins rose across Bregindoure’s skin. He towered above his brother—who barely reached his shoulder—and was far broader. His body was a great knot of strength, since there was little else to do in this prison beside reading books, playing his lute, and building his frame.

  His expression turned into the snarl of a beast. “They…dare…”

  Matthias didn’t pull away.

  Neither did Dagma, looking calmly into Bregindoure’s eyes.

  The rune grew brighter.

  Bregindoure’s lips moved. “Way of Stone. Be the stone. Weather it. Endure it.”

  He repeated the words for many heartbeats, his body quaking. Finally, the rune’s light began to fade, his veins relaxing and his eyes returning to normal.

  He lowered his head, his breathing laboured. “Matthie, Dagma, I am sorry. I—”

  “Don’t be.” Matthias covered the rune, squeezing his brother’s hand. “You kept control. Way of Stone. You’ve gotten better.”

  “I still can’t develop the Rune of Clarity, which would free me from…all this.” Bregindoure looked around the cell then down at the symbol on his hand. His lips flattened to a thin line. “I hate being rune-marked. Branded by some old magic, losing my mind, losing my freedom.” He shuddered. “If it weren’t for me, father wouldn’t have—” The older sibling paused, shaking himself. “Forget it. I’m the oldest; you shouldn’t have to listen to me whining. I don’t want to ruin the day.”

  “You’re not, Bregindoure.” Dagma patted his hand. “And here, I know how to make you feel better. Here’s your birthday present!” She reached down to her belt, pulling out a small package wrapped in leather. “I hope you like it.”

  The eldest sibling smiled. “Oho! What did you get me this time? A set of bird’s eggs?”

  “Even better.” Dagma placed the package in his hands. “I’m a young lady now; I don’t climb trees to fetch bird’s eggs anymore. I’m too sophi…sophisti…proper, for that now!”

  “I see, then I wonder what sophisticated gift is in store for me.” Bregindoure unwrapped the package.

  Within lay a quill, freshly plucked and prepared: a bright blue feather with a luminescent sheen that reflected the dim light.

  He grinned. “I’ve needed one of these! So this is the gift of a sophisticated lady? Thank you, sister.”

  “Can’t help but notice it’s still bird-related, but it’s nice.” Matthias admired the present.

  “It is.” Dagma smiled. “I’m glad you like it.”

  “Don’t forget mine,” Matthias pulled the heavy pouch from his belt. “I had more for you, but…you know.”

  “Kari, Siegfried and who’s this new friend of theirs?” Bregindoure’s eyes took on a dangerous gleam.

  “Petric, apparently.”

  “They’re lucky I’m stuck in here.”

  “Don’t think about them, take a look at what I made you.” Matthias handed his brother the pouch.

  Curiously, Bregindoure undid the strings.

  His smile grew wide.

  “Will you look at this!” he cried, holding up a stone inkpot. A small granite dragon curled around the outside.

  “I know how much you like stories of Anaxadar.” Matthias pointed at the snarling maw. “So I thought I’d carve the Divine Dragon for you. Sorry it’s not that good, but—”

  “Oh, no, brother. It’s great!” Bregindoure held up the inkpot and the quill with a wistful smile. “A pretty quill to write with. The Divine Dragon, Anaxadar, to hold my ink. What a day this is! Come here! Give me your heads!”

  “No, brother!” Dagma held up her hands like she was warding off evil.

  “Oh come on, Bregindoure!” Matthias stepped back. “Not the head thing—”

  Bregindoure looked at them sternly, placing his gifts on the desk. “I am the eldest. I cannot hug you, so give me your heads.”

  Matthias and Dagma sighed, looking at each other before stepping closer to the bars and leaning forward. Two plate-sized hands came down on the tops of their heads, gently patting them. “Thank you, Matthie and Dagma. Thank you so much.”

  Both younger siblings squirmed, finally scurrying away from their elder brother’s head pats.

  “That’s enough,” Matthias blushed. “I’m nearly grown.”

  “Ah, but you’re not fully grown quite yet, are you?” Bregindoure grinned. “Oh, don’t make those faces, you two. Tell you what, I’ll make it up to you.” His smile turned sly. “Do you know what I saw high in a tree this morning?”

  “What?” Dagma asked.

  He leaned forward. “A. Ripe. Hornunaeppling.”

  Matthias startled. Dagma’s jaw dropped.

  “Really?” Matthias asked, his mouth starting to water. The fruit was rare, the insides were like pure cream and honey, while the seeds had a crunchy, nutty flavour. “So early in the season? How?”

  “I do not know. Perhaps Talimar Vosh reached down from his divine throne to grant us a little blessing. The guards haven’t noticed it yet, and I think mother could get it for you. So, when she gets here—”

  “Oh, no.” Dagma stood tall. “We’re getting it right now. If the guards see it, they’ll pick it and eat it before we can get any.”

  “Aye,” Matthias agreed, rubbing his belly. “Dagma and I can get it no problem.”

  “You sure?” Bregindoure asked.

  “Of course! I’ll use The Gift!” Dagma grinned, showing the space where her missing tooth had been.

  “Alright, but just be careful,” their elder brother cautioned.

  “Oh, we will,” Matthias promised. “We’ll be right back!”

  He and his sister turned, racing each other down the stairs, passing through the tower’s shadows and gloom.

  “Don’t do it, Dagma.” Matthias shook his head.

  His sister turned from the trees in front of her, black pigtails swinging, batting her in the face. She gripped her wooden sword. “You doubt Sur Dagma? I beat you, remember?”

  “Oh, you mean your ambush?” Matthias shielded his eyes from the drizzle, looking up at a crimson-barked tree.

  A single golden-yellow fruit hung from its highest branches.

  Matthias considered the prize before hiding an evil smile. “You know what? Do it. Breg and I’ll be watching.”

  “Alright, watch this.” Lifting her wooden sword, the young girl closed her eyes and spoke a single word. “Fly.”

  Wind rustled around her.

  Raindrops trembled.

  She threw the blade.

  The sword flew under the girl’s command, striking the branch and knocking the fruit free.

  “Matthie!” she wheezed, doubling over.

  Matthias sprang, hands extended, eyes fixed on the falling fruit, catching it before it splattered on the grass. “Got it!”

  “Good…” Dagma panted, sweat forming on her brow, mixing with the rain.

  “The Gift really takes a lot out of you at your age, doesn’t it?” Matthias handed the fruit to his sister, patting her on the back. “Even with your Life Enforcement.”

  She nodded. “It really does.”

  “You think you have another Command in you?”

  “No.” She shook her head.

  “Oh? Then tell me, how will you get your sword down if you’re too tired for another Command?”

  “What?” Dagma looked up at the tree branch.

  The blade was stuck, well out of reach.

  From the tower came a deep laugh. Matthias grinned.

  “I…” She stared with wide eyes. “I can’t lose that sword, Sur Friya will kill me!”

  “I’ll get it for you,” Matthias offered with malicious intent.

  “Really?” she asked.

  “Sure!” He noticed the amount of water soaking into her pigtails and brought the hood of her cloak up to shield her hair and face.

  After a moment’s thought, he did the same for himself then ran at the tree and leapt, grasping the lowest branch, pulling himself into the canopy with ease. Hand over hand, he scaled the trunk, easily reaching the wooden sword.

  “Be careful!” Dagma called.

  “Got it!” Matthias grinned, snatching the weapon while swinging onto the branch. “Hah! Victory!”

  “Thank you! Now, throw it down, I’ll catch it!” Dagma called.

  The evil smile finally took over Matthias’ face. “To the victor go the spoils, Sur Dagma. I have your sword and by warrior’s right, I claim it!”

  “What? You thief!” she cried. “So this is how the brave knight, Sur Matthias, fights?

  “You know what mother says.” He grinned wickedly. “Honour is for duels, not war.”

  Dagma made a face.

  “I hope you fall.”

  “That is no way to speak to Sur Matthias!”

  “Maaatthie!” she cried.

  “This is vengeance, Dagma! Sweeeeet vengeance!”

  “Bregindoure!” Dagma called toward the tower. “Bregindoure!”

  “Oh, now you run to big brother for hel—”

  “Matthias! Dagma!” Bregindoure’s voice cracked out. “Get back to the tower! You need to come inside. Now!”

  Dagma and Matthias froze.

  A flicker of movement rounded the tower.

  “Wait, what’s—” Matthias looked over. “Oh shit.”

  Three figures were approaching, shoulders squared, eyes fixed on Dagma.

  “No!” Matthias cried.

  Kari, Siegfried and Petric gripped heavy cudgels; the two cousins were covered in bandages, while white dressings swathed Petric’s jaw, face and head.

  “Up there!” Siegfried pointed toward the tree with his cudgel. “There’s the rat!”

  “Thought you could run away?” Kari smirked.

  “Hey! Leave him alone!” Dagma stepped toward them. “I’ll break you!”

  “Stop!” Matthias scrambled down the tree, heart hammering in his ears. “Get away from her!”

  Petric glared down, then began advancing toward Dagma.

  Kari reached out, blocking Petric with an arm to the chest. “Don’t touch her; the Archlord would have our heads. Focus on the one who did this to you. He has no such protection.”

  Siegfried leaned toward his cousin, whispering.

  Petric looked at the girl, his expression shifting from anger to pity. Then his eyes fell back on Matthias as the boy dropped to the ground. Rage returned.

  “There you are, you shit,” he mumbled through his dressing.

  Matthias rose up to his full height. “What are you doing here? Sur Friya—”

  “Father pulled us out of training with the Marquess’ permission.” Kari glared at him. “You know, since we needed to get Petric and Siegfried some treatment. They’re supposed to rest for a week because of you.”

  Matthias darted forward, putting himself between his sister and the tormentors. He placed a hand on her shoulder while she growled at the trio.

  “Don’t,” he whispered.

  There was no sign of the guards moving to intervene. Neither of them had even bothered to peer around the building. They were there to guard Bregindoure, and this wouldn’t be the first time Matthias’ plights were ignored by his father’s servants.

  He would have loved to go to them, tell them his trouble, and have these three carted off.

  Unfortunately, he did not live in so kind a world.

  At least, it was not so kind to him.

  “We have no quarrel with you,” Kari said to Dagma, his voice oozing courtesy. “Go with the peace of the Ascended.”

  “If I’m going, I’m going through you.” The young girl balled her hand into a fist. “Leave my brother alone!”

  “We’ll go around you, Lady Dagma,” Kari sighed. “We won’t touch a hair on your head, but we owe your brother a beating. And he’s going to get one.” He smiled at Matthias. “Oh, will he ever get one.”

  “No!” Dagma screamed.

  “Stop it, you filth!” came a roar from the tower.

  Matthias looked up sharply.

  “Breg!” Dagma cried. “Breg! Calm down!”

  Two shaking hands were gripping the bars on the window. A red light blazed from the prison. “Leave here now, you three wretches, or I swear I will—”

  “Do what?” Kari made a rude gesture toward the tower. “You are never leaving that place, beast!”

  “Quiet!” Bregindoure shouted. “I will rip you apart!”

  The red light grew brighter.

  “Bregindoure! Bregindoure! Way of Stone!” Matthias cried.

  “You have to stop!” Dagma added.

  Siegfried and Kari snickered, though Petric glanced at the tower nervously. They were distracted. Matthias couldn’t let them drive Bregindoure further into a fit.

  He bent down, scooping up a handful of mud, then glanced at Dagma. There was no way he was going to let his siblings see what these three wanted to do to him.

  “Sorry,” he whispered.

  He bolted, sprinting for the tree line as though every storvarg in the Wolfwood was after him. Grass and mud squelched beneath his boots.

  “Hey! He’s running!” Petric suddenly cried from behind him.

  “Get back here!” Siegfried shouted.

  “Go Matthie!” Dagma screamed. “Run! I’ll get mother!”

  “Get away, brother!” Bregindoure shouted from the tower.

  The sounds of pursuit followed.

  Matthias reached the tree line, ducking beneath a low hanging branch, vaulting a bush. He could almost feel the breath of his pursuers on his back.

  “Fly!” Dagma’s voice screamed.

  Something jerked in Matthias’ hand. He looked down at his sister’s sword.

  He let it go.

  The wooden blade shot backward.

  There was a thwack of wood on flesh.

  Kari yelped, his footsteps stumbling.

  “I’ll get him!” Siegfried cried.

  Turning, Matthias pitched the mud at his bloodshot eyes.

  Siegfried grunted, tripping and spilling into the muck.

  Petric huffed and puffed after them.

  Matthias ran.

  “Keep going, brother!” Bregindoure howled, his voice fading behind his brother.

  Matthias ducked beneath branches, pine needles and leaves, weaving his large form between tree trunks, making sure to never move in a straight line for too long.

  “Where’d he go?” Petric demanded, his voice still muffled.

  Kari laughed. “When I catch that bastard, I am going to break every bone in his body!”

  Matthias’ eyes scanned the woods around him; he noted a familiar old grey willow and broke to the east, making for a mountain stream. If he crossed it while out of sight, he could lose them.

  ‘Way of Stone,’ he thought, listening to the calls of his tormentors. ‘Endure.’

  “We’ll find you!” Siegfried shouted. “You’re only making things worse for yourself!”

  “Come back here and take your beating!” Petric shouted. “If you have any honour!”

  Slowly, the sounds of his pursuers receded and the babble of the mountain stream up ahead grew louder.

  ‘Keep going,’ he thought. ‘You’re nearly there. You’re nearly—’

  “There he is!” Kari’s voice echoed from above.

  Matthias flinched, throwing a glance over his shoulder.

  Kari had scaled a tree, catching sight of Matthias through a gap in the canopy. “Follow me!” he laughed to his friends.

  Leaping from a branch, Kari’s body twisted in the air, and he grasped another branch, pulling himself onto it one-handed. He jumped again. Leaping through the canopy, keeping his eyes on his quarry. With a single swing of his arm, he snapped a tree limb blocking his way, one as thick around as his calf.

  Matthias shuddered.

  Siegfried and Petric’s shouts were growing louder.

  Matthias burst onto the bank of the stream, his eyes following it.

  ‘Stream ends at a cliff with lots of bushes,’ he thought. ‘Could hide in there.’

  He followed the water, his pursuers’ hoots and calls growing ever louder.

  The cliff was fast approaching, and so were his tormentors.

  Underbrush grew denser, trees giving way to thorny bushes thick enough to form a maze if one kept low enough. Setting his jaw, Matthias threw a final glance over his shoulder, then dove into the thorny shrubbery. He hissed as barbs dragged across his flesh, scraping bare skin, or stabbing him through his clothing.

  ‘Way of Stone,’ he thought. ‘Be the stone.’

  Matthias crawled on his belly, pushing through the brambles, weaving through shrubbery, using it as cover. He moved in deeper. The drizzle stiffened into sheeting rain, filling the woods with the rattle of droplets drumming on leaves.

  “Where is that rat?” Siegfried’s voice exploded from nearby.

  Matthias froze for a moment, then kept going.

  “I saw him dive into the bushes,” Kari’s voice offered. “But I lost him from there.”

  “Into those thorns?” There was a smile in Siegfried’s tone. “Like a common rabbit? Hah! Serves him right. We got the thorns, so should he.”

  “Let’s find the gutless bastard,” Petric snarled.

  Matthias was close to the cliff. He could see it through the bushes and hear wind howling past the rock. It was a sheer drop, with stony outcroppings protruding from its face like teeth in some titanic jaw.

  At the bottom lay more forest, while great birds of prey soared above, making their way for cover from the heavy rain.

  Some appeared to be hawks.

  Others were much larger.

  Matthias kept low, hardly breathing.

  His pursuers were beating the brush with their cudgels. Now and then, one would get brave and try to wade in. A quick cry of pain would soon follow snickering from the other two.

  Heartbeats passed.

  Then minutes.

  “We might’ve lost him,” Kari sighed. “These woods are thick. Let me try something. Hey, coward! Your brother’s a beast! Just a brainless beast that’ll die in that tower! You and him are the reason your father doesn't want your family anymore!”

  The words struck Matthias; some rang true.

  He fought the urge to rise from the bushes and smash Kari’s mouth in.

  ‘Way of Stone. Endure,’ he repeated. ‘Don’t lose control again.’

  Kari’s taunts continued for a time until a bored note entered his voice. “Agh, forget it. I’m not missing lunch for this. There’ll be other days.”

  “What?” Petric mumbled through his bandages. “No, he got me in the jaw. We’ve got to get him.”

  “Ah, leave it, Petric,” Siegfried sighed. “He can’t live out here, and Lady Beggahasta might be at the tower by now. We don’t want to cross her. We can get him another day.”

  “No! That’s easy for you to say!” Petric snarled. “He got my damned jaw! He could’ve broken it! He has to pay. Now!”

  “Look, if you want to go into those bushes, be my guest,” Kari scoffed. “I’m getting out of here. I’m tired of getting soaked.”

  There was silence for a moment. Matthias held his breath.

  Then Petric said something.

  “What are you doing?” Siegfried demanded.

  Petric spoke louder: “Burn!”

  The bushes steamed above Matthias.

  “No way,” he whispered.

  “Burn!” Petric shouted again.

  There was a hiss. A crack.

  “Stop it!” Siegfried cried. “You could set the whole forest abla—”

  “Buuuuuuurn!”

  There was a blast of heat. Shrubs burst into flame.

  “By Culf’s bloody sword!” Kari laughed. “You’re mad, Petric, I love it!”

  The air grew hotter. With a life of their own, flames fought the downpour, raindrops steaming away as fire spread through the brush. Matthias’ back and legs began to sear; he coughed from the smoke.

  “You hear that?” Petric wheezed.

  Cursing, Matthias sprang from the bushes, tearing through the thorns and rushing toward the cliff’s edge.

  “There’s our rabbit!” Kari laughed. “Grand job, Petric!”

  Fire roared between Matthias and his pursuers, forming a wall. Petric was panting. Siegfried was pointing. Kari was laughing.

  Matthias glowered at them with deep hatred, then turned and ran.

  “I’m winging that bird!” Kari shouted.

  There was a whoosh.

  A thrown cudgel struck Matthias on the side.

  Something cracked.

  He groaned, feet going out from under him as he toppled from the cliff.

  “Oh shit!” Siegfried cried.

  Matthias panicked, spinning through the air, trees and rock racing past him. His hands reached out, grasping for anything to break his fall.

  He caught a stony outcropping…

  …with the back of his head.

  Agony blasted through his body, followed by terrible heat and a wetness in his skull. His body went slack. Everything slowed, his vision swam. Dark spots grew in his vision. His consciousness sank down, out of his body, deeper into the dark.

  All grew sluggish.

  Slower still.

  Then came the images.

  A white moon.

  A black moon.

  Bonfires.

  Shadows twisting.

  Snippets of phrases.

  “...mother forgive…”

  “…forbidden pillar…”

  “...older pillars of power…”

  “...lungs you have…”

  Then, a phrase, clear as day.

  “Tonight we kill death.”

  One last image appeared.

  An orb with a tiny light glowing inside, like the last ember of a fire long snuffed.

  The orb shattered.

  Matthias thought to reach for the cliff again, but his arms and legs wouldn’t move.

  Something else did.

  Before consciousness fled, what appeared to be an appendage of utter shadow reached toward the cliff. Cool, soft darkness wrapped around him.

  All went black.

  Bwahahahaha, we're so back.

  Patreon. There's up to 24 advanced chapters ahead on patreon as thanks for support!

  https://discord.gg/A4M3CzfWBn