12th month, 30th day, 967

  Victor

  I shook the mixture of hard liquor, fruit juice, and ice - then I poured the results into a goblet and passed it to one of the soldiers; he took a sip, his eyes widened, and then he downed the rest of his drink with relish. It was early evening by the time everything got ready - the camp followers from both armies all gathered and started to prepare a massive field kitchen, and of course I needed more time to smoke some additional food.

  I’d taught Sylfie and some of the camp cooks the basics of charcoal grilling, so they handled food while I tended bar. I call my setup a bar, but it was really just three tables arranged in a U-Shape with a stack of booze in the opening between the legs. The mixed drinks were a hit; I’m glad I made it a point to purchase fresh fruit to squeeze into juice!

  Sylfie was still grilling, Mal was up on a makeshift stage somewhere telling the soldiers about Red Lightning’s exploits, and the others were with me. Ramon and Marco joined us, too, looking somewhat dour - which was to be expected given what we found out. After his initial transmission, I’d driven down to Rivercrown to pick Sarian up and he gave us a full report; man was it heavy.

  “I’m…really sorry about your friend.” Said Illiana.

  Marco said, “Thank you, your highness. I can’t believe he’s really gone…”

  Ramon said, “But, I think we can take some comfort knowing that he was loyal to the end.”

  Sarian Eloyd told us all the grim news: upon taking a look at Captain Bernardo’s house, some nearly skeletal human remains were found in the master bedroom. The real Captain Bernardo was dead, and had been for at least six months judging by the advanced state of decay his body was in. Not only that, the corpses of his family and household servants were also found partially eaten in the basement - the Cuervo Diablo had been using illusions to keep up the ruse that his home was anything other than a charnel house. I had to wonder what other monsters the Black Order had up its sleeve, for up until now we’d only met their humanoid minions and the Mastermind, whatever the hell he qualified as.

  Marco slammed his drink and huffed, “That damn demon…I didn’t even notice anything was different about the captain. To think that I raised arms against my own brother…”

  Ramon said, “Fie! Let us speak of such things later. Right now there are other matters that I simply do not understand.” He sighed.

  “Um, how about we talk about Meli’s live broadcast?” Said Illiana, “You still haven’t explained how you pulled it off, Sir Victor!”

  Guy and Rayna both nodded - oh, right, I haven’t told them the details of my plan yet. Even Illiana had been kept in the dark because she’d wanted to be surprised.

  “Now’s a good a time as any, I reckon,” I said. “So, the adventurer’s guild has a magic device that scans your face and makes a picture of you for your ID card…I had Sylfie and Nenewyn jury rig that sucker to provide a live stream of video, motion picture if you would, to a specialized magic tool that was tuned to the unique pattern of my smartphone’s SIM card.”

  I paused to check everyone’s faces; Ramon and Marco were utterly lost, so I poured them each an extra large helping of Southlands and continued. I briefly explained how it worked on the same principle as a Transmission spell and teleportation magic, how the packets were being sent through astral conduits from the magic tool to my completely unmagical “modern marvel”. I also explained how linking two inanimate objects this way was easier and used less magical energy than person-to-person spellcasting

  “We did a test run with Meli standing in the same room as the phone, and it worked. Then we tried the next room over, followed by the street outside, followed by an area outside the city - it all worked. Once we had the feed, I had Mal miniaturize the video into a tiny transparent version of itself, and then he shone light through it which projected onto the clouds. While I could have easily done this with a recording, as you saw with Sylfie, I wanted to see if it was possible to do it live and from a long distance; I reckoned it’d be more impressive that way, but, really, I just wanted to try it!”

  Rayna blinked, “Most of that went over my head, I’m afraid.”

  Guy nodded, “Aye, my friend - I fear that ‘tis far too complicated for me to fully understand either.” He smiled, “But, I’m rather impressed all the same!”

  Rayna nodded in agreement at that.

  Illiana clapped, “Your ingenuity never fails to amaze me, darling!” She slowly turned her head to our guests of honor. “But gentlemen, I trust you will keep this proprietary information a secret?”

  Both Ramon and Marco nodded. The princes were both a little afraid of Illiana actually - they were utterly massacred in the impromptu trade negotiations from earlier this afternoon, and at this point they were no longer concerned about the wrath of the guilds. Incidentally, they had also signed a version of the White Accord and pledged to help take down any Black Order strongholds that they might come across. Part of the agreement also involved letting Hanzo train up their intelligence service, like he’d done in Cara. None of this prevented them from having their own political machinations, of course, but at least they’d be trying to avoid falling into any of the cult’s traps.

  Then Ramon gave a deep, hearty laugh. “But I do I hope you’ll explain it to my court mage, Velasco - he seemed keenly interested to know. He has a great deal of respect for your sister in particular.”

  Illiana said, “Ah, about him: whenever it is convenient for you, I’d like Master Velasco to study under our court mage, Nenewyn. That way we can keep in contact by means of transmission spells.”

  I’d helped Hanzo and Nenewyn come up with a list of codes in an effort to squeeze more information into twenty-five words as a stopgap measure until they developed a two-way communications tool. What’s-his-nuts from Andalon was present for the festival and had already learned it from Nenewyn, who was planning to teach it to as many people as possible. Meanwhile, Hanzo’s package for Sarian included instructions for what to be on the lookout for when it comes to finding Black Order cells. Speaking of those two, I wondered when and how they were planning on joining us out here; I made a note to ask Sylfie if she could contact them again.

  There was one more thing on my mind, so I thought maybe it was time to let this be a self-serving bar for a while…

  Maera

  The Black Order…the stars-and-stripes man mentioned that name before, and until today neither he nor any of my other captors had given a shred of detail. Now I knew more than I knew what to do with. This is wrong, I must warn my father that he is playing into the hands of a secretive cabal that seeks to destroy the world he wishes to conquer. I’d heard of spellscourge before, once, from my father’s own mouth. Surely he’d want to avenge his favorite mistress, my mother, who died of the selfsame illness when I was but a few years old!

  But would he even believe me? Never once has he given me credit for any of my success - even when I protected his borders from invaders. But perhaps this time he’d listen, yes, the next time he might - a memory flashed when I repeated those words.

  “Next time he'll do what?” The skunk-haired poet said. “No. I’m afraid men like him are incorrigible. The way it sounds like, you performed your duties most admirably - brutal though they were.”

  I clicked my tongue and said, “I failed. I deserved the punishment I received - every kick, every backhanded strike.”

  I don't understand why the twin-tailed witch wrapped her arms around me when I said that. Nor do I understand why it felt good for a fleeting moment before I came to my senses. I’d snarled and pushed her away at the time, but then I felt a strange feeling - weight in my chest of some kind, as she turned to look at me, frowning, and shook her head slowly.

  Gah!

  But…my time with my captors really hasn’t been so bad, has it? I don’t understand why they’re treating me, a prisoner, with such kindness. They gave me food and fresh clothing, and the green-eyed princess even washed my hair. The smoked brisket we had for lunch was unlike anything I’d ever tasted, yes, it’s even better than snake stew.

  It wasn’t just her, either. The man with the mustache like a spiketail, the skunk-haired poet, the scarlet-haired barbarian, and even the twin-tailed witch looked at me with sad eyes. None of them seemed to hate me; what sort of long game were they playing, when were they planning on exacting vengeance upon me? I thought captives were usually thrown into a dungeon and forgotten, or worse; their leader is a strange man.

  Huh? Speak of the long-devil…there he was, along with the green-eyed princess. The way they interact is also beyond my comprehension; the star-spangled ranger doesn't treat the princess the same way father does his mistresses. Softer, with a measure of reverence.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “Howdy, Miss Maera,” he said.

  I clicked my tongue. “What do you want?”

  He shrugged, “Thought we’d come see how you were doing.

  “I’m just fine,” I lied.

  The green-eyed princess looked at me in a strange way that put me at ease; it was frustratingly strange to the point I tensed back up again.

  She said, “We brought you a steak and something sweet to drink - just plain apple cider. Sir Victor saw to its grilling, personally, rather than leaving the task to a camp cook.”

  From my midsection, a growl to rival that of a Bigjaw’s roar issued. Damn you stomach, stop betraying my feelings! They unbound my hands and let me have a fork and knife. With my powers I could easily kill them with these but…Why does this man’s cooking have to be so good?

  More than that, wait, is their enemy not the same as mine…? Devil take it, this is confusing. No, wait, there's an enemy that father would hate more than the Black Order, that's right.

  I looked at the green-eyed princess…so, this is the sister of Valyrian, the legendary swordsman. I remembered now where I’d heard the name of Anaura before: my father often speaks of Valyrian. He says his name with the same visceral hatred you would when speaking of a rodent, or an insect, or a gob of dung on your boot. My entire reason for living is to kill that man. To that end I’ve been trained, honed into a perfect weapon to fight the swordsman who wronged my father. When I bring father the head of his hated enemy, he’ll finally praise me!

  But how can I hate a man with such a kind sister...?

  No, Maera don't think that way! Gah!

  Once I’d finished eating, the two of them left - seeming satisfied that I wasn’t about to keel over, they fluffed the cushion on the head of the chair, then the green-eyed princess used her nature magic to bend the chair into a comfortable recline. Then they tied my wrists again, and left. I don’t know how much time passed…but eventually I had another visitor: the twin-tailed witch, she who had obliterated so many of the men and twisted-ones under my command, and the one who had been pestering me with the most questions.

  “May I have a moment?” She asked, with a curtsy.

  “I don’t see how I have a choice,” I said.

  She shook her head, “If you’d prefer to be left alone I’d be happy to oblige, Maera.”

  I growled, but ultimately said, “No. Speak your piece.”

  First she asked me some more questions about my mother…then she called my father a liar and said some more outrageous things about him. I don’t know or care who this Nenewyn is or what she found, what she’s saying can’t be true! It can’t! That was it. That’s enough!

  I screamed at the top of my lungs, “Take your lies and stuff them up your pox-ridden cunt, witch! I hate you! I hate you!”

  She bowed, and said with an unbothered expression, “I’ll take my leave. If you change your mind, feel like listening to reason…” She laid an envelope on the table. “...you might need this later…if Victor decides to let you go home, that is. Good night.”

  “Fuck you!” I cried, with tears in my eyes.

  How could she say those things? Lies! Lies! All of it! My father isn’t a liar! He’s not! Who - just who does that woman think she is to try and turn me against him like that? Why? I don’t understand! I cried. I cried hard. I cried until I was hoarse. The night wore on, and then I heard a faint rustling from behind me. When I looked, I saw that something was carefully tearing at the fabric of the tent…

  “It…it can’t be?”

  Victor

  After checking up on Maera, Illiana and I decided to spend some alone time; so to that end we hopped in that car of mine and drove off a ways to view the dale from high up. The stars were pretty as usual. We were sitting on the grass, cuddling on a blanket together just enjoying each other’s company as we typically did. We munched on some leftover bread and meat, drank hot tea, and reminisced a little about this and that for an hour or so.

  “Sir Victor,” she said. “Why didn’t you tell me you could sing?”

  I shrugged, “I guess it never came up. But your voice is a million times more heavenly than mine ever could be so maybe I just didn’t think these pipes o’ mine were worthy - ah you sing like an angel.”

  She stroked my face, “Nobody makes me sing the way you do.”

  Was…was that a euphemism? I’m gonna go ahead and say that it was. We kissed passionately. The way her hands were moving I reckoned she was more than a little thirsty for a tall drink of water. But then, there was a sudden gust of wind; she stopped and shivered.

  “Bother,” she said. “Sir Victor, I um…I want you and would continue, but ‘tis so bitter cold out here. Could we head back to camp?”

  I nodded and started to pack up the blanket, then, seeing the Cadillac, with its large cushioned backseat visible through the rear door, I stopped. Froze dead in my tracks, my eyes transfixed on the car. I suddenly remembered my prom night. Huh. Sylfie had complained about how much noise we make…and we’re pretty far away right now…it suddenly dawned on me.

  “Actually, princess,” I said, smiling wryly, “I have a better idea…”

  ***

  1st month, 1st day, 968

  Happy new year! I wasn’t hungover the next morning, as I didn’t really drink much, but I reckon I did sleep late. I can’t believe it took this long for us to finally make love in the car; seriously, why didn’t I think of that sooner? I mean I know I’d joked about drive-in movies before but actually going for it somehow had slipped my mind. The windows were still covered in a thin veneer of condensation, and under the blanket I still felt Illiana snoring peacefully. Oh boy did I feel refreshed! As soon as I yawned, I saw Illiana’s ears twitch, and she turned to give me morning kisses.

  “That was incredible,” she said. “I mean, ‘tis always wonderful but something about the Cadillac makes it feel extra, um, ‘tis difficult to describe hehe.” She scratched her cheek.

  I kissed her adorable forehead. I knew exactly what she meant; even whenever I had access to a hotel or apartment there was always something thrilling about a good old park and ride. But, moving on - after giving the car a thorough cleaning we drove back to the encampment; we were past due for breakfast, I reckoned.

  But before Illiana or I could take a bite, Sylfie showed up along with Sarian and Velasco - seemingly in a panic.

  “Victor! Sis! We’ve got a problem!”

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  Sylfie said, “Maera’s escaped…” she drooped, “And it’s probably my fault.”

  Illiana held her sister and said, “No, don’t blame yourself.”

  Sylfie shook her head. “I had Nenewyn look into some things regarding Maera, which I reported to her, and she snapped at me. I…I think that I may have given her the resolve she needed to run off.”

  I said, “Damn it, resolve nothing - let’s go to her tent; I might still be able to track her.”

  Sylfie snapped out of her trance, “Right!”

  The four of us high-tailed to the tent where we’d kept Maera, under the watch of guards in front. The two of them were still there, of course. They claimed that they didn’t see anything, that she hadn’t come out through the tent flap. I went inside to investigate, of course. Sylfie gasped looking at the empty table but I didn’t press her for details; instead I focused on Maera’s chair.

  I immediately noticed that her bonds had been chewed through and there was a gaping tear in the canvas of the tent; three long parallel gashes running vertically from top to bottom, somewhat stretched out in the middle as though something large had pushed inside. There were tracks outside, two clawed toes and one circular impression. These tracks vanished into the mess of prints from last night's festivities at which point the trail seemed to run cold. Crap. It was pretty obvious what had happened.

  "Clever girl."

  Excerpt from Fauna of The Midain Continent Wilderlands

  Out of all primal beasts, none are as interesting as the Black Reaper Dreadrunner. They behave in many ways like reptiles, birds, and mammals combined into one dangerous apex predator. They are versatile, comfortable as both an ambush predator and as a pack hunter. The female is slightly larger than the male, and typically protects the den while the males go out hunting but a female can and will hunt with puissance if the need arises and woe betide any unfortunate enough to get between a mother Dreadrunner and her offspring.

  They are not only extremely intelligent, they are as capable of imprinting on human handlers as a labrador. This relative friendliness towards people sets them apart from their cousins, the Red Reaver, which hunt and kill for sport like a dolphin, and the Green Gutter, which frequently engage in intraspecies battles to the death. In regard to trainability, they are most similar to the smaller Brown Cutter which are sometimes used by Primalborn elves as guard animals.

  The Black Reaper, when imprinted, can and will seek out his or her chosen human (or humans) when separated by great distances using their keen senses, with some specimens having tracked their human hundreds of miles. They can accomplish this deed thanks to having an unusual amount of stamina and load tolerance for a biped; more than their skeletal structure might suggest. They are smart enough to break bonds, create distractions, and use complicated maneuvering tactics to escape. Some have even gone so far as to call this strong protective instinct a form of “love.”

  Victor

  "Damn it," I said.

  Even if we knew the general direction of travel that still puts us at a severe disadvantage, mathematically speaking. I ain't about to pull a Mastermind and call it impossible, but, given that the search area would increase exponentially with each passing hour...

  “This is bad,” said Sylfie. “‘Tis likely that she’s gone home.”

  Crap. That's the worst possible thing she could do right now.

  “Wh-what makes that so bad, Princess Sylfaena?” Asked Velasco.

  Christ, this guy has no idea.

  “Many reasons,” I said.

  Yeah, lots of good reasons, including familial abuse for one thing. The way she described her home life was atrocious. I mean I’m all about giving people a choice but holy shit, I’d feel like a god damn enabler if I didn’t try to intervene. But in my mind the worst reason was that one thing we’d all come to suspect about Maera:

  That her father, the so-called overchief…is none other than the Darklord of Dreadmoor.

  How many y'all said "I knew it!" at that last line?