Skylar grimaced. Great. I guess each of these has its own risks and drawbacks -- I can't keep kicking the can down the road too much longer, but I guess I might get away with one more punt.

  "So, uh, anyway," he deflected awkwardly, "what happened, exactly? I didn't see much after that huge thing almost ate my face. Who was that girl? Did she save us, or something?"

  There was a long, disgusted silence where all three of the others glared at him; but, eventually, Aymon sighed and began gathering up the water containers he'd been using to heal the others. "I admit that I only caught a glimpse, myself," he said wearily, "But Svata has seen fit to bestow upon me a hawk's vision even in my own form at times, and believe I may have been able to discern a little more than the others." Levan and Reine nodded, apparently agreeing. The older elf turned to face Skylar squarely. "Just as we were all on the verge of being overwhelmed, she appeared from nowhere, seized the dagger that you, ah, earlier utilized, and struck down all the beasts within the blink of an eye. Such speed I have never before beheld; it made the striking of a snake seem the movement of a sloth." He cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. "Your interest is noteworthy; after all, the girl seemed to recognize you, and bore an attire similar to your own."

  "Yeah, and that's another thing I don't like," Skylar agreed with a scowl. "I've never seen her before in my life, but I saw some places where she'd removed jewelry recently -- I think maybe she was trying to look like me, but I can't imagine why. Did she think she could take my place? And if so, why would she want to?"

  "Your circumstances are somewhat unenviable," Aymon agreed with only a hint of humor. "But you are certain that you did not recognize her?"

  "I see no reason to concern ourselves with the human's continued mendacity," Reine interrupted. "Either we pursue the escaped prisoner, or we make preparations to locate Garlon's Fork; dancing around in the Zuzan's spiral of dishonesty doesn't get us anything."

  Rude. I definitely need to learn what a Zuzan is soon.

  Skylar frowned, but bit back his retort; things are moving on like I wanted, so this is good enough. He noticed Levan watching him, but did nothing. Suck on that, guy.

  "Very well." Aymon finished his packing efforts and rose, dusting himself off before donning his white cloak once more. "Though I remind you that we have no heading, and cannot hope to gain one before the next moonrise. Still, this is your expedition; how shall we proceed?"

  Reine paused, looking back and forth between the older elf and the darkness, and Skylar started slightly as he realized that she was much younger than he'd initially thought. Fratz, she's probably in whatever passes for her early twenties for an elf. Is this her first time being in charge? Tiny, aborted movements clued him in to her dilemma as he watched; she twitched ever so slightly in Levan's direction, then in Aymon's, then stilled and brought her hand to her chin in frustrated contemplation. She doesn't know what to do, but feels like asking for help would make her look weak.

  Yeah, because the one thing that will work when everybody hates you is sucking up. I can do better than that.

  Now this, on the other hand... Levan coughed, and Skylar snapped out of it; well, that's easy enough to fix. "Obviously, we should stay here until then," he announced. "We killed all these things, so maybe there won't be any more?"

  As he'd hoped, the reaction was swift and decisive; all three glared at him again, and Levan spat in disgust on the ground. "There are a lot more than a dozen Ubara out here, krepnak," he growled. "This place is too exposed, even if your stupid idea was right."

  "If you cannot speak sense, be silent," Reine agreed; then she paused, and swiveled her steely gaze towards the Loathborn. "But you are right; this place is too exposed." Reaching a decision, she turned towards Aymon and began to pick her way through the filthy mud towards his position. "Ilkon, you saw the terrain from the air; even without a heading, you must have spied some place more defensible than this. Maybe an area of raised terrain, or a structure?"

  Aymon nodded. "A wise question. Much of this area is only wasteland, but there was one place of noticeable elevation to the west of here -- though a hawk's eyes are not well-suited for broad strokes." He shrugged. "It could be a hillock, or a building; with luck, we may be able to locate it and take shelter there."

  "Even a hillock would be a place to narrow an enemy's approach," Reine agreed. "Let's get moving."

  Skylar moved to follow, but the taller elf suddenly appeared in front of him; in his hand, he held the bloodstained dagger that the mysterious girl had used to slay all the Ubara. "I could lend it to you a bit longer," he offered. "We are likely to be attacked again."

  Surprised, Skylar balked; Weird. Why would he be nice to me now? The elf's eyes, he noticed, were gentle and had lost some of their earlier suspicion. Skek. Maybe he saw through me.

  Realizing that he was taking too long to respond, Skylar shook his head. "No, that's okay; I think that might make everyone too nervous." He hunched down inside the thick leather trenchcoat, staring at the ground. "Everybody thinks I'm some sort of liar or cultist or something, so it's probably better if they don't also think I might stab them in the back. And it's not like I was any good with it, anyway."

  The elf looked at him for a long moment, then nodded and began to clean the blade before sheathing it again. "Perhaps. Come with me, then; if combat is not your forte, then mayhap I may impart upon you some skill for scouting. Everyone's talents are different." Skylar nodded and trudged after him, picking his way through the swampy terrain; to his surprise, he noticed that his new coat stayed clean, even when mud would normally have stuck to it. Definitely magic or something. Or maybe treated with hydrophobics.

  At the head of the column, Aymon began ranging ahead with the swiftness of a hunting cat; Skylar was able to keep pace with his newfound, youthful agility, but only barely. At least this new body is good at something, he groused to himself. But the older elf's attempts to teach him any scouting skills in particular quickly ended in failure; it became rapidly apparent that the elf's night-vision was so superior to Skylar's own that he was effectively blind beyond the silvery lantern's illumination range, whereas Aymon could see for nearly four times such a distance. The older elf patted him on the back reassuringly, handing him the lantern to carry. "No matter. Perhaps your talents will reveal themselves in time; if you are truly innocent of the charges against you, I am certain you will have many opportunities in Gavispar."

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Gavispar. Probably a city. Skylar shrugged. "Maybe." He decided to change the subject; of all the group, the older elf seemed the most willing to talk to him without scorn, at least for now. "How did you learn to do those other things, like turning into a cat? Is that also where you get your strength from?"

  The elf nodded; Skylar relaxed a little, relieved that he hadn't made another misstep. "Svata grants me three of her Arts: Passem, the ability to take on the form or attributes of a beast, is the one I use most often. It is challenging, even after decades of study; but the greathawk and the shai'jara, as you have seen, are most useful."

  "And bear, too, I bet," Skylar agreed, then cursed. Fratz. I shouldn't guess.

  But the elf's gaze flicked towards him in surprise, and he nodded. "Yes -- the strength of the bruin serves me well in combat, as you intuit. You are observant, at least."

  Hmm. Maybe this is a good way to gain a little more information. "I'm guessing another Art is the ability to heal with water?" Skylar ventured. "I saw you use that to heal the others."

  "Yes, the Art of Karana," Aymon confirmed. "The third Art -- Tulim -- I have not yet had need of since mastering it, but one never knows the future." Skylar pondered if he should ask what that one did, but decided against it; too many questions will make me look suspicious. I need to turn the conversation in a different direction.

  "Thanks for trusting me," he ventured finally. "I don't know why everybody thinks I'm some kind of liar, but you're the only one who hasn't practically spit on me or tried to kill me so far."

  The bearded elf chuckled. "Our acquaintance is short-lived yet," he joked, "so there is still time. But I saw how you gave aid to Reine, even in the guise of mockery; as you have no doubt surmised, she is young yet, and a Justiciar's first command is a harrowing test. She needs all the help she may receive."

  Skylar nodded, his suspicions confirmed. And if Aymon noticed it, Levan probably did too -- I doubt he misses much. I need to continue to choose my words really carefully.

  For nearly three hours they walked, though the journey was not as hard as the previous night's; having his hands unbound at least gave Skylar the chance to shift his balance when needed, taking some of the strain off his knees and ankles. Furthermore, the strange thick leather coat kept him much warmer and sheltered against the wind, further reducing his discomfort -- though fatigue continued to eat away at his stamina. He grimaced. I haven't slept since I came to this world. Even if Miss Elfy of Prisoner Abuse doesn't require rest or sleep, the rest of us will soon.

  Eventually, Aymon sighted the structure he'd located from the air; as it hove into view within the silvery lantern's circle of illumination, Skylar gulped. Well, drotz.

  The building -- for that was indeed what it was -- was a great gothic edifice of spires and crenellations, like a twisted fusion of architecture from different time periods; Skylar could see the patchwork of centuries' effort to rebuild, differentiate, and maintain all at cross-purposes to each other. The overall effect was a sort of crawling unease, like the building was trying to escape from itself; Skylar shuddered. "Hate to think of who might live here."

  "It may be uninhabited," Aymon demurred. "Few remain here in the wastelands since the fall of Anagari." Anagari -- another city. Or maybe a country or person? "But I shall determine the truth of such things; you should rejoin the others." Before Skylar could protest, the old elf had melted into the shadows, his burly form vanishing almost immediately into the darkness. Skylar stared. He's wearing a white cloak. I should still be able to spot him, but there's nothing. Probably more magic corfsmot, or something.

  Dejectedly, he slogged back through the mud to rejoin the others; Reine and Levan were marching in silence, though the atmosphere between them seemed at least less strained than it had been before. Maybe they were making out, or something. He cleared his throat. "Aymon went ahead to scout. He said he'll find out if there's anybody inside."

  Reine nodded. "Good -- if your report is truthful, that is." Skylar rolled his eyes, but didn't bother retorting. "We should prepare to fight -- even if there's no one at home, there could still be wildlife or other unpleasantness."

  She drew her sword, preparing to hand it to Levan again, but he shook his head. "Do you have any more Invocations to fight with?" he asked. "I don't wanna leave you defenseless."

  "I can fight in more ways than two," Reine assured him; satisfied, he took the sword and swung it easily to loosen his joints. She turned her baleful eye back to Skylar. "Your combat prowess, on the other hand, is less than efficacious; take the center position, and we will try to keep you from harm." Her mouth quirked up at one corner. "Mostly."

  Biting back his complaints, Skylar did as he was told; in that formation, they moved up to where Aymon had been before, but they didn't have long to wait. In less than ten minutes, the bearded elf returned, emerging ghostlike from the gloom like some sort of jacked ninja Santa Claus. "It is deserted -- I suspect the gates have been sealed for some years. We may take respite here, but be cautious; it is not a place of the Light."

  The Light? What does that mean? But Reine merely snorted. "We are well-defended. And the others may feel at home there, at least."

  Levan and Aymon scowled, and the older elf shook his head in disapproval, but he said nothing; Levan, on the other hand, put his hands on his hips and spat. "That's racist as skek. Just because I'm a Loathborn doesn't mean I worship Gram or any of his Devari."

  Devari, huh. And apparently Loathborn have some kind of connection to Gram. Skylar tried to fade into the background; this was good intel. But Reine seemed content to drop the subject, ignoring Levan as though he had not spoken. "Move out. Let us take what position we can defend."

  In silence, they moved forward into the great courtyard; Skylar was in awe of the massive, timeworn pillars which supported the great wall around the entrance, and marveled at the thick black stone which comprised the edifice. Pits and chips scored every exposed surface, as though the place had faced long erosion for many years, but they were uneven; sharp in some places, but smooth in others. Is it a ruin? No, the condition's too good for that. Maybe some kind of catastrophe that forced the previous inhabitants to abandon it?

  Moving through the great black iron gate which guarded the entrance, they found themselves in a vast, echoing hall; the scent of moulder and rot wafted up from somewhere further within, but Reine gestured for Skylar to set down the lantern just within the entrance. "We can rest here," she decided; "No sense delving deeper if we don't have to." He frowned, but did as directed. Her speech patterns keep shifting around -- sometimes she talks fancy like Aymon, other times rougher like Levan. What's with the linguistics of these guys?

  Immediately, Levan laid down the Justiciar's sword within easy reach, then collapsed to the stone of the floor; in minutes, Skylar noted with disbelief that the Loathborn was already asleep. That's training. Some kind of soldier, maybe -- it would explain why he can fight so well. Aymon, similarly, curled up like a hound on the floor and went silent, his chest rising and falling with the easy rhythm of slumber before too long.

  But Skylar had no such luck; a life spent in soft, comfortable beds had ill-prepared him for sleeping on a stone floor. The weight of the leather coat as a blanket alternately crushed and smothered him, but if he set it aside he felt chilled and exposed. Eventually, he settled for sitting up with his back against a pillar while wearing it like a cloak; the thick material cushioned the hard stone against his back and legs, but he could cross his arms in front of him and retain just enough warmth for comfort.

  He dozed for a while, but true sleep eluded him; eventually, the call of nature asserted itself. "I'll be back," he murmured, but Reine quickly moved to block his path.

  "I warned you against more escape attempts," she hissed; Skylar rolled his eyes.

  "I have to take a leak -- that okay with you, Constable Kick-vix? Or do you want to see my dong so badly that I need to pee in front of you?" He crossed his arms, scowling; the tips of Reine's ears pinked, but she looked away with an expression of distaste. "Or maybe you want to hold it for me?"

  Immediately he sensed that he'd gone too far -- the elf's expression abruptly became murderous, and he was lying on his back with his ears ringing before he could register what happened. "You are disgusting," she hissed, turning on her heel and shaking the hand she'd punched him with as though it were in need of a washing. Skylar smirked through the pain; Good. We've reestablished our social norms.

  Crawling away, he made his way into the further interior of the structure; an alcove around the corner provided sufficient privacy for him to relieve himself, a process which took longer than he'd expected. I don't remember drinking this much water. When, finally, he was done, he zipped up and sighed; sleep would be a long time coming, especially now after being roughed up.

  "Finally," a quiet voice hissed out of the blackness behind him, "I thought she'd never leave." A cold hand gripped his own and yanked him into the shadows.

  There was a frozen, gasping moment in which Skylar's body was somehow elsewhere -- a place where neither breath nor heartbeat was possible -- and then, without transition, he found himself in another space. Metal walls, queerly organic in nature and illuminated by some warm yellowish radiance, surrounded him, and he could hear strange noises -- thumps, drips, rumbles, and pulses -- echoing around him at odd intervals.

  "We don't have a lot of time," the stranger in front of him said tersely. "But you can ask me whatever you want before my next shift." To his surprise, it was the same girl who'd rescued them in the wastelands; at this close range, he could see that her eyes and hair were completely black. "And before you zubnak out, yes, I know you're an Incursor -- and no, I'm not going to tell your friends."

  Skylar gulped. Oh, skek.

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  -- AMBLE