Rise of the DarkWalker: The Chronicles of Carter Blake, Book II

Three years ago

Carter stared up at the enormous gate. The bas-relief of the Orwen clan seemed to glower at him. The dragon’s eyes appeared to follow him as he shifted to either side, taking in the detail of the device. The sculptor’s skill was such Carter fancied he could see the tension in the dragon’s claw where it gripped the vampire’s neck. The agony in the undead being’s fanged maw and wrinkled brow were almost tangible. ‘This thing has more detail than the standard crest. Even the one on the castle itself.’

He’d seen that one three years ago while crossing a drawbridge over a moat of acid that was home to small, troll-like creatures called slitters. One had briefly adopted him and had a tendency to come and go at will. ‘Odd. I haven’t thought of that little guy for some time. I wonder whatever happened to it.’ He scratched his chin, still surprised to feel the hair there. ‘I should shave soon. Hope I don’t cut my own throat. I’ve not seen disposable razors here in the Realm.’ Carter glanced around again.

‘Why is the gate closed? There’s supposed to be a tournament for Queen Adora, so why isn’t everyone invited in like usual?’

A warm breeze swept by, ruffling his hair. ‘That’s odd. I don’t hear the typical bustle. Where is everyone?’

He stepped closer and raised his gauntleted right hand. The bang of steel on iron rang through the air. Moments later, a wicket gate opened to the left of the Orwen crest. A stout man in scale mail stepped through. He wore only a single glove, and part of his jerkin hung below his belt. Patchy blonde stubble covered his cheeks and his eyes were bloodshot.

Carter’s brow furrowed. ‘Something isn’t right here. Captain Skaltitz wouldn’t allow one of his men to be this unkempt. Who is this guy, and why is he here, instead?’

“What’s that racket for?”

Carter raised his left eyebrow. “To get your attention.”

“Alright. You have it. What do you want?”

Carter’s right eyebrow joined the left. “To come into Dragon Keep. Obviously.”

The guard pushed his sallet up, away from his eyes. “You getting smart with me, boy?”

Biting back a laugh, Carter said, “Would you know if I were?”

“I’m getting tired of your mouth, boy.”

Carter rolled his eyes. “I don’t care. Move aside, let me in, and you never have to deal with me again.”

The guard drew his sword. “And if I cut you down, no one will have to deal with you again.”

“By all the hells.” Carter sighed. “Where’s your sergeant? I’m sure he wouldn’t approve of your behavior.”

“I don’t.” The voice came from the wicket gate.

Carter glanced over and spotted the newcomer. A red patch covered his left eye and his golden brown beard was braided. As he approached, his wide body and short stature revealed him to be a dwarf.

The guard stood at attention when the dwarf drew near. “Sir! I am—”

“Shaddup.” The command was almost as hard as the backhand that took the guard off his feet.

“That was uncalled for.” Carter stepped forward to help the guy to his feet.

The blow to the side of his head knocked Carter over. He rolled to his feet, his eyes flashing an electric blue for an instant.

“You like sneak attacks, I see.” He drew his white sword, ignoring the rush of ice the raced down his arm and across his chest. “Care to try that again?”

The dwarf snorted and spat at the Walker’s feet. A short, quick wave of his hands, and waggle of his fingers, and a massive war hammer appeared in his hands. Carter watched, unimpressed. The summoning of a weapon from a demiplane, or bag of holding, was a common trick. When the dwarf’s eyes flashed white for an instant, Carter threw himself to the ground, thrusting his sword back, over his head.

The dwarf appeared where Carter’s back had been, swinging his hammer for his skull. Instead, the snowy blade lanced into the dwarf’s stomach, and under his sternum. Carter rose to his feet, meeting the dying dwarf’s gaze.

“You’re the first witchknife I met who used a hammer, but your tactics are the same as all the others.”

As he withdrew his sword, he felt something slam into his back. He stumbled over the dead dwarf and went to a knee. A wrenching sensation, followed by a kick spun him over to his back. One of the other guards held a bloody hatchet.

A flash of silver caught his eye.

Carter rolled away, ignoring the scream of agony that tore through him. He pushed to his feet as the guard pulled his sword from the dirt. Three others arrayed themselves before him, attempting to create a pincer around him.

Blood flowed heavily down his back. ‘If I don’t staunch the wound, or use a potion soon, I’m gonna bleed out.’ He rotated his left wrist as he whispered, “Nocht,” and a small phial filled with a glowing blue liquid appeared in his hand.

One of the guards lunged, driving his sword at Carter’s heart. He parried the strike and shoved the potion into his mouth, crunching down on the magic container.

The ashy, rotten grape flavor filled his mouth, momentarily distracting him from the fight as he gagged. Feeling like his insides were on fire, without thinking, he brought his bare hand up to intercept the claymore attempting to bisect him. The jolt of the impact staggered him back a step.

One of the men gave a cry of fear and ran, dropping his hatchet as he did. Carter shook his head to clear the water from his eyes, allowing him to see his hand was a deep scarlet and covered with scales. ‘Great. My dragonskin potion. Just the one I didn’t want. Fucking Gauntlet.’

He then pulled the guard into his white sword. He turned his attention to the last two. “Who wants to die next?” His voice was deep, sounding as if he had a mouth full of glass.

The smaller of the two shook his head. “Nope. Not while he’s protected by a dragon skin spell. My sword is regular steel.”

The taller one spoke. “His eyes and mouth aren’t protected by the potion.” The guard’s voice was distinctly feminine.

“If you want to risk it for no gain, be my guest. I’m getting out of his way. The lord’s elite can fight him.”

Carter held his sword with a firm grip. “Well, miss? I don’t have all day.” He then pulled the blade from the body of the guard and let him slump to the ground.

The tall woman watched her companion jog through the gate and then glanced down at the bodies at the Walker’s feet. She returned her attention to him and sheathed her sword. “You win. I’ll not stand in your way.”

The Walker of Worlds nodded. “Smart.” Sheathing his own sword, he stepped over the bodies. He walked through the wicket gate, he said over his shoulder, “You might want to call the Cottar’s Guild to take care of those bodies.”

Without looking back, he stepped into the city.

***

He slipped though the shadows of the alley and darted to the other side when a foul smelling liquid splattered to the ground next to his foot. He shot his gaze up at an open window, catching a maid shaking out the last drops from a chamber pot.

“Really?” He threw his hands out, indicating the near miss.

She shrugged and pulled the louvered shutters closed.

Carter sighed and continued down the alley. After a few moments, he paused at the opening and cast his gaze across the plaza to the shop he most wanted to visit. A wand crossed a potion bottle overtop a piece of paper on the sign waving back and forth in the steady breeze. Silver letters outlined in gold proclaimed the shop to be Randor’s Wizardry and Potions. The emporium had openings in major cities and planes across The Realm. All connected to Randor’s demi-plane.

Another glance around showed no guards nearby, so he hurried across to the magic shop.

The door opened to a jungle meadow. To Carter’s left, a white, frothy cascade of water fell into a pool surrounded by sun baked rocks. He raised his head to find a deep blue sky with clouds scattered about. A green flash caught his eye.

As he watched, a green lizard raced down a thick tree truck. It was chased by a martit. The catlike creature adroitly leaped from branch to vine and then to the ground, landing on the lizard’s back. A short squeak was cut short as the martit began its meal.

Carter walked forward. The ground was uneven and treacherous with deadfall, patches of slippery mud, and thorny vines reaching out to trip him up. The humidity in the air caused a sticky film of sweat to cling to his forehead and upper cheeks. Birds let out sharp whistles in the distance. A large animal crashed through the undergrowth, hidden by the thick copse of trees and brush.

“Randor, where are you? I want to buy.” Carter’s loud voice echoed through the jungle foliage.

A small pop came from behind him. When he turned, Carter found the area had transformed into a shop. The top of a glass display case formed a counter behind which stood a humanoid man with gold skin and snowy feathered wings. A flowing, silver robe draped over muscular shoulders and covered thick hands.

“Master Blake. Welcome back. What can I do for you?” His voice was like a rich buttery candy.

Carter stepped forward and peered into the display case. Scrolls lay furled next to leather bound books which stood against crystals. Vials of various types of potions stood guard over wands of yew and glowing rings.

“I’m going to need a selection of potions and help with this gauntlet of holding.” He turned his attention to the wizard as he lay his left hand on the countertop.

Randor leaned forward and held a jeweler’s loupe before his right eye. A blue light shot out and ran over Carter’s gauntlet. He nodded as he straightened.

“It’s possessed.”

Carter sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Of course it is.”

“I can exorcise the demon for a small fee.” Randor pulled a small black book from inside his robe. “Shall I put it on your tab?”

“That reminds me.” Carter placed a pouch on the counter. “How much am I up to?”

“Seventy-four gold, six silver, and four coppers.”

As usual, the half-celestial named the amount from his formidable memory. Carter withdrew two platinum coins with his wife’s profile engraved on them and handed over the money.

“With the change, would you give me six health potions, two more dragonskin potions, a few flame scrolls, and recharge my wand of frost?”

Randor placed each of the requested items before his customer. “Anything else, my friend?”

“Yes. How much to teach me the trigger words for scrolls of Unlock, Heal Other, and Locate?”

“A few more gold than what you have remaining.”

“And how long will they take?”

“Based on your previous results?” Randor drew the fingers of his left hand down his chin, causing a long beard to appear. “About six weeks.”

Almost anyone in The Realm could learn magic, if they had the time, innate talent and money. Carter had learned he was only able to learn how to use scrolls and wands. The energies of using magic washed over him like he wasn’t even there. Fortunately for him, magical devices had the energies within themselves and only needed to be sparked by a specific word.

“Damn. I don’t have six weeks.”

Randor raised his right eyebrow. “Why is that?”

“I have to find out who has taken over the capital and where Queen Adora is.”

“Oh.” The wizard nodded. “I could set up a chrono field that would allow you the time to learn them, but outside it, no time will have passed.”

“Excellent.”

***

Carter stood on a small table with his arms outstretched as a tape measured various parts of his anatomy. A few feet away from him, mannequins stood, covered in parts of outfits. The tailor took notes as she gossiped about the latest events in the capitol. Warm sunlight filled the window next to where she sat and wrote.

“Rumor has it the tournament is being held because Queen Adora’s banner men turned on her, demanding she choose one to marry.”

Carter shifted as the measuring tape took his inseam. “What of her personal guard, the StoneFist Guardians? Did they not stand for her?”

She looked up from her notations. “Aye, but she is said to have ordered them to stand down due to them being outnumbered. She then declared she’d only marry the man who could defeat all the others.” She gestured and the tape landed on the messy table. Scissors, thread, needles and other implements of her trade covered it.

“Lord Angriz stands as her champion. None have made it past his bulwark.”

“How long has the tourney been going on?”

“A fortnight.” She led him over to a cabinet with various fabrics. “Some of the lords are getting restless, saying she chose this as a way to not have to pick. There are also rumors that on the morrow, a group of them will all attack Sir Angriz on his way to the arena.” She raised swatches to his chest before discarding them.

“Is his route a secret?”

“Of course not. It’s Sir Angriz.”

“Good point. Not too many would be stupid enough to attack a half-dragon.”

“They are.”

Carter chuckled.

The tailor finally nodded after lifting a beige sample and compared it to his eyes. “This will work.” She picked up her notepad again, absently brushing errant strands of pale yellow hair from her cheek. “Do you want additional clothes, or just the tunic?”

“A padded doublet in black would be good.”

“Padded? In what way?”

“For protection under my cuirass.”

Her eyebrows went up. “You’d have to go to a leather worker for that, milord.”

Carter nodded. “Fair enough.”

She finished making his tunic, and presented it to him. The high quality of her magical work marked it as expensive, yet the simple color and heraldry marked him as a commoner.

“I admit, Sir Lavitz, your heraldry is both unusual and remarkably simple for one of your stature.”

He pulled the tunic on, and then strapped on his sword. A glance at the simple white broadsword and then back to her. “I’m a remarkably simple man.” He next passed her a round and silvery colored gemstone.

“What’s this?”

“Rachni pearl. Pretty and valuable. I outfitted myself with one about twice the size of that.”

“Rare, too. I’ve only ever heard stories of these.” She looked up. “What do you mean by ‘outfitted?’”

“I bought a sword, this armor, a horse, a tent and other supplies.”

“I can’t take this for a simple tunic.” She turned to look at it in the firelight.

“It’s for saving Angriz’ life.”

“How—?” She looked up, but the shop was empty. Crossing the room didn’t turn him up. After a peek up at the silent bell above the door, she threw the bolt.

***

The sun broke through the mid-afternoon clouds as the scent of damp earth wafted past Carter as he fell in step with the huge warrior in chain mail armor. A heavily muscled man covered in Aureate scales, he had what looked like the whiskers of a cat near his mouth, a white mane on his head and eyes of molten gold. Most would call Carter a tall man, but Angriz had at least a foot in height on him. Both men carried helmets under their left arms.

“What do you want, human?”

“To keep you company and to even out the odds.”

The half-dragon stopped, causing his armor to make a light jangle, and folded thick arms over his massive chest. “What odds?”

“There’s a squad of mercenaries up ahead.” Carter tilted his head in their direction. “Around the corner. Seems like the queen’s former banner men are tired of you playing wall for the queen.”

“How do you know their location?”

“I scouted out their positions beforehand.”

“And how did you know they would be setting an ambush?”

“I listened to my tailor.”

The half-dragon placed his hands on his hips. “What does that mean?”

Carter glanced over his shoulder. A movement further up the avenue showed they were being watched closely. “Sir Angriz, place your hand on my shoulder and laugh like I told you a good joke. They’re watching and getting restless.”

The other man gave an imperceptible nod, and doubled over, laughing, his large right hand clamping onto Carter’s shoulder. The Walker gritted his teeth against the pain of Angirz’s claws digging into his flesh.

“It means that many overlook those they hire for a service and so speak freely.”

“Why inform me of the ambush? Are you hoping I’ll be lenient during the tournament?”

Carter’s burst of laughter startled the big man, causing him to straighten. “By all the hells, why would I want that? I want you to fight your hardest. Present me with a challenge.”

Angriz glared. “Who are you?”

“Lavitz.” He held out his hand. “So? Will you accept my assistance?”

“I don’t need it.”

“Against twenty men? Yes you will.”

“Twenty you say?” Angriz tapped the pommel of his sword with his claws. “Think you can handle three?”

Carter grinned. “Sir Lavitz, there will only be three for you to deal with.”

The wind picked up, bringing with it the smell of more rain.

“Let’s find out.”

“Let’s.” Cold droplets of water splattered against his cheeks. Carter raised his eyes to the sky and saw the swirling grey clouds being pushed to the west, pursued by black ones. After placing his helm on his head, he reached for his belt buckle, freed the end, and then paused. “Do you want any of them alive?”

“It would be nice, but isn’t necessary.”

“Good.”

He finished unbuckling his sword belt and then cast the leather strap to the ground. Striding ahead of the half-dragon, Carter drew his sword and dropped the scabbard.

He spun it around with a flourish before thrusting the blade without looking into the shadowy doorway to his left.

A gurgle sounded as he withdrew the bastard sword. A leather clad man fell out of the entryway, clutching a gaping, bloody wound in the middle of his torso.

The sky opened up. Rain came hard and fast enough to almost drown the sounds of battle.

Carter whirled his weapon around, water flying off the blade as he deflected an attack from his right. At the same time, he twisted under his raised arm, and whipped the steel around and hacked into the side of his attackers neck.

He went down, blood arcing in the dim afternoon light.

As if in slow motion, the rest of the men poured out of the shadowy rain. Carter ducked under one’s chop, and bowing at the waist, spun away from another.

He kicked at the water in the street, sending into the face of one of the men.

When he raised his arm to shield his eyes, Carter thrust his sword into the man’s belly, and then yanked it out, pulling the blade downward. He spun it outward and the circular backswing terminated in the groin of another behind him.

Both victims went down screaming. One a bit more high pitched than the other.

A gurgled scream came from down the street. He risked a glance over his shoulder.

Angriz held one of the men up by the throat with his right hand while fending off the assaults of two others. The warrior being choked by Angriz went limp and was thrown into the two attacking him.

Carter tried to wipe away some of the water from his eyes as he turned back to his own fight.

A mercenary dressed head to toe in black waited, rocking from side to side, ignoring the rain rolling off his helm.

Something about this one gave Carter a bit of pause. He gripped his sword hilt in both hands, angled in a left to right diagonal.

The back clad warrior exploded into motion, sending a wave of rain flying behind him, moving almost faster than he could see. Before Carter could attack, the warrior slammed an arm into him, sending him flying through the air to crash into a wall.

He landed on his ass with a splash, mud shooting in an arc all around him.

He slumped over, dazed. A shake of his head, cleared it a little, and alloqing him to search for his opponent. He spotted him about to blindside Angriz.

Carter bellowed, “BABAU!”

Angriz twisted around and blew fire at the demon. The inferno raced up the street, flashing the rain into steam as it engulfed all in its path.

Carter frantically dove around the corner of the building and into an alley, as the shockwave from the explosion shot past.

Before he could relax, he felt the bottoms of his feet burning as the half-dragon’s fire breath charred his boots.

In a near panic, he tore them from him and cast them aside. They burned to ash in short order. Steam wafted from the damp soot as he stared at his boots for about a minute. ‘I didn’t realize how persistent dragon fire was. I’ll have to remember this.’ At the same time, his screaming ankles reminded him of his burned feet. The soles were blackened, cracked and bloody. The flames had seared the nerves of the bottoms of his feet.

“By the Abyss, Lavitz. I am sorry. I did not realize how far my breath weapon would go.”

“Relax, Sir Angriz. It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known about the flashover effect of your breath interacting with water.”

“Flashover effect? What is that?”

“That’s what happens when water is superheated into a gas. It’s rather explosive as you may have noticed.” Carter opened a panel in the center of his breastplate, revealing a hollow with a small ampule containing a viscous green liquid.

“A pocket in your cuirass? That’s pretty reckless. You’re giving up a lot of protection.”

Carter looked up at him. “Fortunately, my face presents a much more tempting target.” He pulled the stopper from the phial and emptied it in one swallow.

He shivered as the icy chill of the healing potion flowed through his body, soothing the aches away and taking care of the burns on his feet. He watched, fascinated, as the blisters went down, the red mottling smoothed to an even tone, and the swelling faded. His heartbeat slowed and strengthened while his breathing evened out and became deeper.

Seconds later, he rose to his newly healed feet. “I never get tired of seeing and experiencing that.”

“What was that?”

“A healing potion I got during my journeys.”

“May I?” Angriz held out his hand.

Carter shrugged and passed him the empty vial.

The other man sniffed the opening and then narrowed his eyes. “This is Abyssal.”

“What of it?”

“You’ll want to be careful, Lavitz. Abyssal stuff can cost you your soul.”

“It gives me an advantage and heals me fully. I’ve not had issues with it in three years.”

“You’ve been lucky.”

“Indeed.”

Angriz gave him an odd look.

“Let’s get to the tournament, eh?”

The half-dragon nodded. “Are you going to get yourself new shoes, or boots before then, or were you planning on using that as your excuse for why you didn’t win?”

Carter laughed. “The only reason you ended up with a higher count than me tonight is because your explosion killed the rest of them. Otherwise I’d have handled them.”

“Like you handled the demon?” Angriz clapped the other man’s back as he guffawed.

Carter caught himself before the half-dragon’s blow knocked him to the ground and nodded with a wry smile.

***

Apple wood torches cast a pleasant smelling light over the throne room. The queen reclined on her throne like a panther. Her long, raven hair hung over her shoulders to her breasts. Her bangs drew attention to her piercing blue eyes. The azure dress she wore did little to hide her muscular frame. The half-dragon knelt before the throne, head bowed. The queen drummed her nails on the side of her seat.

“Why are you so late, Sir Angriz?”

She deliberately kept her gaze on the half-dragon. ‘It wouldn’t do for the guards to catch me watching them. Waiting for a moment of inattention.’

“Your Grace, I regret to report my lateness due to being attacked by unknown assailants.”

“Were they so formidable then?”

“Their numbers were troublesome.”

She lifted an elegantly curved eyebrow. “Oh?” She lifted her hand. “Rise, Sir Angriz, and gaze into my eyes.”

He did as bade, locking eyes with her.

“Report.”

As he spoke, she surreptitiously noted how many of the guards were watching the report.

“A number of men, accompanied by a demon attempted to ambush me as I headed to the market. Fortunately, I was warned of the attempt by a warrior in patchwork armor.”

Adora’s brow furrowed. “How did this warrior know of the attack?”

“He said he was informed by his seamstress.”

She blinked. “How did she know of it?”

Angriz shrugged. “According to him, people often speak freely in in front of those they claim to be inferior, or otherwise unworthy of notice.”

The queen nodded. “I have found this to be true as well.” She took a glass from a tray offered by a servant. “What is this warrior’s name?”

“He called himself ‘Lavitz.’”

‘It can’t be. Can it?’ The question raced through her mind as she sat up straight and leaned forward. “Where is he now?”

“He is just outside the throne room, Highness.”

She snapped her fingers at the men standing near the portal. “Summon this Lavitz. I wish to see this mighty warrior.”

The huge doors parted with a loud groan. The torchlights behind him shrouded his appearance, but, ‘The walk is his. The casual saunter, like that of a mighty lion. The erect bearing. The swagger.’

The doors shut with a bang, cutting off the light at his back, allowing her to see his face for the first time.

“Good evening, Your Grace.”

The smoky voice and cocky grin told her all she needed to know about his identity.

Without turning her gaze from him, she said, “Everyone out.”

“But, Your Majesty—” One of the guards spoke up.

“Now!” Her voice, though quiet broke no argument.

The various courtiers, and attendants scurried from the throne room.

“You as well, Sir Angriz.”

“Are you certain, Your Grace?”

She stepped from the dais and placed her hand on his forearm. “I’ll be safe with Lavitz. No more questions. Just leave us.”

He sighed, clapped his fist over his heart and bowed. “As you command, Your Grace.”

He rounded up the guards who were reluctant to allow her to leave their sight. When he threatened to eat some of them, they moved with alacrity.

Lavitz stood there as she walked around him after they were alone. She hesitantly reached out and touched his chest and looked up into his eyes. He let out a brief chuckle at the wonder in her beautiful blue eyes.

“Yes, it’s me, Adora.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Queen Adora.”

“Indeed.” He placed a kiss on her forehead, pausing to inhale her fragrance. “Payback from when we last saw each other.”

It elicited a snort from her. “You’ve grown.” She then slapped his chest. “Where have you been?”

“The Abyss.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “How is that possible?”

“It’s merely another plane. Not ethereal, so you don’t have to be dead to visit.”

“How did you survive?”

“Barely at first. And one day at a time.” He intertwined his fingers together and placed them at the back of his head. “Ultimately, it was because I am the Walker of Worlds.”

“You learned about your abilities?” She clasped her hands together as she bounced. “That is wonderful news.”

“Not exactly.” He hung his head. “I’m only a little further on that journey.”

“Did you at least find Keeper Dearbhaile?”

“No. I’m starting to worry I never will.” Carter heaved a deep sigh. “So, what is going on here? You’re having a tournament to choose a husband because your banner men betrayed you?”

“Yes. Shortly after you left on your travels, I returned to gather my army to counter Drago’s atrocities. At first, things were great. We won several battles and gained more followers. By the end of the twelfth month after you slew Belial, the tide had turned harshly.

“Soon after that, I woke to find myself surrounded by men with drawn steel. Men who had fought beside me, in my name, now demanded that I turn over command of my soldiers. When I pointed out the men would only obey royalty, I was charged with picking one of them to be my husband. If I refused, they would abandon me in the middle of battle to join Drago.”

“You’re still Queen, though. Why didn’t you order the ringleaders arrested?”

“I wasn’t left alone until we returned here, and by that time, my former guards were replaced by other men. I had no choice.”

“I’m sorry. I should have been here for you.” He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her. “What of the tournament?”

“A ploy to make sure they didn’t get their wishes. I declared that I’d only marry the one who defeated all the others and my champion. Because none of the cowards wished to risk their lives, they decided to keep it nonlethal and came up with a joust and grand melee.”

Carter leaned against a window sill and stared at the crowds wandering outside the castle. “I have an idea that might help, Adora,” he after several moments.

“Oh? What is that?”

He straightened and turned to her. “You could choose me.”

Her heart lurched in her chest at his words. But, “They’d try to murder you in your sleep before the marriage could happen.”

His left eyebrow went up. “Do you really think they’d try to kill the Walker of Worlds?”

Adora turned away and paced the hall, hugging her arms to her chest. “It’s risky. I don’t want you hurt, Carter.”

“Alright. We’ll wait to announce who I am until after I defeat Angriz.”

She stopped and turned to him, lowering her arms. “You can’t defeat Angriz. No one can.”

“He was my first teacher, plus I’ve been fighting demons for the last three years. I’m pretty sure I can beat him.”

His confidence and body language almost made her believe him. Almost.

“Let me sleep on it, and I’ll give you my answer in the morning.”

“Fair enough. In the meantime, though, why not tell me about this Drago. Who is he, and why are you at war with him?”

“Drago the Clanless is a charismatic Dark Dwarf with a vendetta against half-elves who wants to take over The Realm.”

“What do you mean, ‘a vendetta?’”

“Every place his army has conquered has seen the complete annihilation of the half-elf population.”

“He’s been killing them all?”

Adora nodded.

“Why?”

“He blames them for the ‘inequalities’ in everyone’s life.”

“Let me guess: People believe him.”

She nodded again.

Carter sighed. “Gods damn it.”

“That’s a worry for another time. I’ll have servants prepare you a room for the night, and I’ll let you know what my decision is tomorrow.”