Janice nodded. “Imagine his surprise when I go back down in half an hour and tell him John is still hungry.” That made him grin, but Janice didn’t reciprocate. “I still haven’t forgiven you,” she informed him. “I’m insulted you think so little of our help that all you consider is how to keep us in the dark, or how to protect us.”

  He had no reply, so he merely nodded.

  “Since you seem to be able to travel almost anywhere now, consider this. You don’t have to sleep on the road, or wherever it is. We can keep your presence a secret. Come back whenever you get the chance. You can eat and rest in safety.” Apologetic, Will wanted to say something, but she was already at the door. “I’ll check on you this evening. If you’re still here, I’ll bring you more food.” Quickly stepping out, Janice was gone.

  He stared at the door after she had left for a minute or more. I’m definitely an asshole. I don’t deserve such friends. His self-reproach was interrupted, however, when he heard Evie greedily gnawing at the edge of his meat pie. “Hey!” He shooed her away before cutting into the pastry and extracting a piece of meat to offer the hungry cat. “You can have this piece. I can’t eat the whole thing anyway.”

  Evie accepted his offering and took it to the far corner of the desk to eat it in relative peace while he began filling his own belly. She accepted a few more pieces before he was done and moved on to try the berry tart. As usual, he wasn’t disappointed, for Jeremy had outdone himself once more. He took the plate and put it down on the floor beside the door, both to clear his desk and to make it easier for the cat to pick through his leftovers, then he sat down and summoned the book.

  The world vanished as soon as he opened the cover while he simultaneously remembered everything he had read up until that point. It wasn’t all unpleasant, but most of it was. No one had used the journal to hide good news or benign magical revelations. The first wizard had spent centuries studying Lognion, and trying to learn as much as possible about dragonkind. The dragon had arrived from elsewhere, and it seemed that dragons belonged to no dimension and all of them at the same time. They were solitary in nature, and although a single clutch of eggs could number several dozen, it was rare for more than one of a given brood to survive.

  The hatchlings deserted the nest immediately after hatching, to avoid predation from their siblings, but over the course of a few years, they grew rapidly to a significant fraction of their final size. Since their magical and mental faculties lagged far behind the development of their savage nature, the new dragonlings generally destroyed one another while running rampant in their new homeland. Eventually, they would develop the ability to travel to other planes and leave, but by that time there were usually only one or two survivors.

  Most of that information had been gleaned from conversations with the elves, who, as it turned out, had already lost their original home to dragons. Hercynia had been their second home, but once Lognion had arrived, they had promptly relocated to yet another plane of existence, returning only occasionally to trade with the humans who remained.

  They hadn’t even tried to fight. Still remembering their first encounter, the elder race had chosen to move as soon as they learned a new nest had been established in Hercynia.

  The term ‘first wizard’ was something of a misnomer as well. Though the original author of the journal didn’t name himself, it was apparent that he had been the last member of a larger magical society which had collapsed after Lognion’s arrival, along with the civilizations of the time. The dragon had systematically destroyed every city, every place of learning, every cultural center, and every government that had existed before it came, reducing mankind to a new dark age of ignorance.

  With that accomplished, the dragon had vanished, leaving humanity to rebuild itself over the centuries that followed. The first wizard had survived, consulting with the elves, searching for a means to destroy the dragon, and trying to locate the nest that he knew existed in secret somewhere. As far as Will could tell from what he had written, the first wizard had failed on all fronts, aside from the general knowledge he gained from the elves. Obviously, the book couldn’t include the man’s death, but his final centuries were bitter and fruitless.

  Except that he refused to die, thought Will, assuming he was the one who became Grim Talek.

  The fact that the first wizard’s studies had yielded not a single clue on how to kill a dragon, or even wound one, was singularly depressing, and those who followed after him hadn’t even attempted to find answers. Lognion had vanished, supposedly, and if a nest truly existed, it wouldn’t hatch for centuries or even millennia. It was a problem for another day.

  Now it’s my problem.

  The writers who followed had their own problems—and devastating solutions. They dealt with rogue necromancers, magical plagues, and invasive monsters, such as the trolls. Some had created rituals too risky to ever attempt, or explored horrifying magics that warped the soul and mind.

  Most disturbing was the work recorded by the tenth writer, who hadn’t had many real problems during her time and so had spent her life studying the nature of reality itself. During her investigations, she had devised a ritual to grant her a special type of perception that she hoped would allow her to see the foundations of reality, the essence of the universe that underlay magic itself. After convincing her contemporaries to assist, she had claimed success, though most of her colleagues denounced her as insane. The second half of her portion of the book consisted entirely of chaotic ramblings and descriptions of what she saw. Most of it sounded like a living nightmare.

  Every shadow was alive, and nature itself was merely a thin veneer that barely hid an ocean of empty darkness—well, mostly empty. She had been convinced that the void contained evil intellects too terrible to consider. Consumed by paranoia the tenth writer had spent decades researching spells and barriers to block out the shadowy alien horrors that haunted her. She had eventually killed those who assisted her with the original ritual, to prevent the knowledge from being widely known. Will got the sense that she had probably committed suicide afterward, though he couldn’t be sure.

  Naturally, the ritual was recorded in the book, and just seeing the rune construct made Will’s skin crawl. He couldn’t see any use for it, but it disturbed him that to retain the rest of the book’s knowledge he would have to remember it as well. The writer had also recorded the most successful barrier spells she had created. The earliest ones were supposedly able to block the passage of all manner or spirits, demons, or intangible entities, but that hadn’t been good enough. The final version created a barrier similar to a force effect but with far deeper metaphysical ramifications. If the description was accurate, it actually created an artificial division in the astral plane, isolating the interior completely from all influences or contact with other minds.

  It was interesting in the academic sense, because force effects were already essentially a type of magic based on the astral plane. That was why they could block spirits (or Will when he was projecting) from contacting or teleporting to someone he had a bond with. The tenth writer hadn’t thought that was good enough and her spell created an effect that somehow physically divided an essentially non-physical dimension into two separate parts. Unlike a force dome which could exclude spirits, or a banishing spell that could forcibly reject them, the tenth writer claimed her spell had actually been able to trap one of the void intellects that was tormenting her. Afterward she had tried using the spell on herself, but the psychic isolation that resulted only drove her deeper into insanity.

  Another peculiar writer, the fourteenth, had also had a relatively peaceful life. Combining lots of free time with a strong curiosity and a keen intellect, the fourteenth writer had devised a ritual that theoretically would unravel whatever plane of existence it was used in. It had never been tested of course, since the author had suspected that the unravelling might not be limited to just one plane. It might potentially spread like fire, consuming and destroying every dimension until nothing was left.

  Except the endless void that the tenth believed in—that would probably survive, thought Will darkly. So far, he hadn’t found anything useful in the book, other than material to fuel his nightmares for decades to come. Feeling tired, he closed the book.

  It was a relief to have the memories fade into obscurity, though he still felt vaguely uneasy. Checking the window, he saw that the day was almost done, and he’d spent most of it in the study. He couldn’t remember how far he had gotten, but he had the feeling of nearly being finished. It was tempting to stay for dinner and then read into the night, but he needed to talk to his father and find the meeting place with Mahak.

  The vampires probably wouldn’t arrive until the next night, certainly not while driving a cart, but if they abandoned it and were motivated, they could conceivably cover the entire distance in a day. Will scratched Evie between her ears and then stepped back and constructed a fresh teleport spell. Her green eyes watched him with silent intensity as he slipped from his body and found his father in the astral plane. Less than a minute later, he found the right balance so he could activate the spell and he was gone.

  Chapter 25

  Mark Nerrow was resting in the command tent when Will arrived. The governor hadn’t slept much the night before, and it had been a long day once he rejoined the main force. The sudden appearance of his son made him flinch involuntarily, but he controlled himself quickly. Lieutenant Stadler, who was attending him, was not as well prepared. The startled officer jumped, took a step back, tried to draw a sword he wasn’t currently wearing, and then fell over a small stool.

  Will held out his hands in a peaceful gesture that probably alarmed the officer even more, but fortunately the governor regained his voice quickly so he could calm the man down. “It’s Duke Cartwright, Stadler, relax.” Then his eyes turned to his son. “Surely there’s some way you could warn people? Every time you do this, it leads to an accident or a near heart attack.”

  It was a good thought, and Will paused to consider it for a moment. Currently, the only people who he could warn in advance were Laina and probably Selene… His mind stuck there. Laina. Laina’s dead. His chest tightened, and his stomach turned sour. Mark was waiting for a response, but seeing none forthcoming, he asked, “Did you have an idea?”

  Will shook his head. “No, but there are three possibilities. If you were astrally sensitive I could tell you directly, but I have no idea how to teach that skill. There’s also a device that can be used to communicate across vast distances, but it would take time to construct and I haven’t learned how yet.”

  “And the third?”

  “The heart-stone enchantment, but you’re still bound to Lognion, aren’t you?”

  Mark Nerrow’s face darkened. “I haven’t felt a change, but I’m not sure if I would. Unless he contacts me to give new orders, I’m not sure if I can even know.” It wasn’t news that Will enjoyed hearing, but as he listened to the words, a fresh insight struck him, and he began to pace. His father gave him a curious stare. “You’ve definitely had an idea this time.”

  Will nodded, silently running through his thoughts. Given the fact that his father was still bound to Lognion, it wasn’t safe to discuss the subject. But there’s a strong possibility I have a connection to the dragon as well, even without the enchantment. In the astral plane, he could find anyone with whom he had built a significant relationship, and that didn’t just mean family and loved ones. It could be anyone who evoked strong emotions and with whom he had spent sufficient time.

  It would be the simplest of things to test his theory. He merely had to step outside of himself and think of Selene’s father. If the connection between them was strong enough, he’d know immediately. The only thing stopping him was fear, fear that the dragon would be able to sense him as well. He had no way of knowing, but if Lognion was astrally sensitive as well, then Will would have given away the secret. Not only would the dragon then expect him to try and use the knowledge, but Lognion would probably also use the same information to spy on him instead.

  The best thing he could do was file the idea away. Meeting his father’s eyes, he changed the subject. “Regarding the trolls—I think I will need some help after all.”

  The governor’s eyes lit with interest. “I was hoping you’d say that. What do you need?”

  “Fire elementals,” announced Will. “I can find the trolls, and I think I’ll have warriors that can keep them under control while we work, but it will still take a lot of fire to make a clean job of it. Five or six elementals should be enough, along with the sorcerers who control them.”

  Mark frowned in puzzlement. “Warriors? Where did you find more soldiers?”

  Taking a deep breath, Will told him, “Not soldiers, vampires.”

  His father let out a tense breath. “I was afraid you’d say that. How can you trust them? How can you fight trolls while at the same time worrying that your allies might try and turn you into food the moment they smell blood?”

  “These aren’t like the wild ones we saw in Cerria,” said Will. “Those were newly made, consumed by hunger and unable to control themselves. These will be much older and wiser, decades at least, if not centuries. Their instincts won’t be a problem.”

  “So instead, you’ll have to worry about their pride,” returned Mark. “I’ve dealt with old men before. They may be wiser, but they won’t take kindly to being ordered around by someone they consider a child.”

  Will smiled. “I’ve learned a bit of diplomacy.”

  Mark snorted. “And when diplomacy fails?”

  “I’ve learned a lot more about destroying dignity and crushing ego.”

  The governor nodded, then replied, “That’s a dangerous way to lead. Many a commander has found a knife between his ribs trying to operate in that fashion.”

  “I don’t need them forever,” said Will, “just until the job is done.”

  His father rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then responded, “How am I supposed to explain this to my men? Authority only goes so far, especially when it bumps up against primal fear. The vampires are going to scare the piss out of my sorcerers, and I can’t just lie to them either. They’re skilled and experienced enough to figure out what they are, even if we try to hide it. Most of them were in Cerria during the vampire plague; they remember.”

  Will didn’t really have an answer for that. “Tell them the truth and ask for volunteers. Make sure they know I’m personally going with them, if that counts for anything. I don’t know how many we need, but seven or eight fire elementals will probably be enough, depending on how many trolls are left.”

  They talked for a while longer, and after he had gotten some directions and advice concerning the local geography, Will said his goodbyes and crafted a force-travel disk. He ordinarily used an elemental version of the spell, to keep his defensive options open, but since the enemies he was currently worried about couldn’t use spells, he opted for the force-effect spell instead. It had several advantages, namely greater speed and responsiveness, as well as being able to carry him higher above the ground.

  Taking it up to its maximum height of fifty feet, he was above all but the taller trees and was able to maximize his speed. Even so, traveling at night would have been too dangerous, but Will could see clearly by starlight alone, so there was no danger of running into the occasional tree that was tall enough to threaten him.

  Being so high gave him an advantage in picking out landmarks as well, which was useful given that the area was largely new to him aside from what he’d seen on maps. He carefully noted the terrain around the governor’s encampment and then set out to find the hiding trolls.

  Skimming above the trees, Will followed the beacon that had haunted him since he had cast the tracking spell on the troll. It was a directional signal that presented itself to his senses like a blinking light in the distance, and while the target was currently too far away for him to gauge the distance, once he was within five or six hundred yards, the light should grow in size to indicate the target’s nearness.

  North and east he went, covering something close to ten miles as he passed over several small valleys between the hills. He fully expected the troll camp to be in one of the valleys, where it was warmer. Trolls didn’t have a problem with cold, but they preferred warmer temperatures, so it was a surprise when the signal indicated that his target was located two-thirds of the way up one of the larger hills.

  Will used a camouflage spell and zoomed quietly over the spot. He might have gotten closer on foot, but he had no easy way to fool their noses, and he figured a quick overhead pass on the windy hillside might be less noticeable.

  Once he was close enough, he spotted the cave entrance. It was partly obscured by a rock outcrop and several scraggly bushes, but the troll sitting beside it, presumably on guard duty, brought the secret to his attention. That and the fact that his signal was pulsing somewhere within the hillside.

  It was a clever place for them to hide their camp, and once again Will found himself surprised by their intelligence. They’d chosen a colder but better hidden location that made it impossible to know their numbers without going inside. If they had a fire, it would probably be comfortable too, but he didn’t see or smell any sign of smoke. So they’re either too dumb to make fire, or too smart to risk giving themselves away. From what he’d seen so far, he was betting on the latter.

  How in the hell had they developed so much over the span of half a year? If their originator actually was Stupid, the troll who had grown from a portion of one of the trolls he had used against the demons, it shouldn’t have been possible. Stupid had only known one word; he’d clearly grown from a small, non-brain-containing portion of one of the other trolls. These trolls had language and planning skills. From what Will had been told, that took years, assuming there were older, smarter trolls around to teach the young ones.

  Could Stupid have actually been a troll prodigy? Clegg had told him that the trolls produced from his flesh were smarter, or least Gan had been, but none of the trolls he had made were brought along for the fight against the demons. Well, except for Gan himself. My firstborn, he thought wryly, before shuddering.