Fog. The fog has been here for almost fifty years. He’s older than me, but not that old. Despite every blinking warning light pulsing in my mind, my lips parted. “Waiting for what?”

  “For what, indeed? You wouldn’t perhaps have something to drink?”

  My eyes never left my visitor, much as my left hand never left my pistol, as I tugged Wyk’s flask from its pouch on my belt.

  The man’s grin widened, tugging the skin around his eyes into crows feet the moment I extended the flask toward him. “For you, evidently, friend. Tell me, how have the years treated my dear friend, Wyk? He crossed the fog below some many years back.”

  Now a stiff sneeze from drawing my pistol, I flicked my eyes about looking for something, a sigil, a circle, anything while resisting and ultimately failing what felt like a compulsion to answer truthfully. “Most, kindly. The most recent, less so.”

  “Good.” White teeth emerged behind an alien smile as he worked off the cap and then took a deep drink of the cold water within. As he gulped down the water, his skin seemed to gain the faint luster of health it had lacked before. “Then he escaped this fate. When you see him again, tell him Alex Bell sends his regards and that our sacrifice was not in vain.”

  The name stuck in my mind as I numbly accepted the flask back. “His memory is not what it once was. Is there anything I might say that might help him remember you?”

  Alex’s eyes focused past me, on the fog in the distance. “Ask him who he was speaking with when the Syr dropped the bridges at Annesport. Ask him if he remembers seeing the blast of Hollowed Hill or the cauterization of the north bank. If he doesn’t, then good. At least he’s been spared that.”

  My stomach sank. Memories flickered by. “Should I ask him if he remembers Lady Winter’s smile?”

  The man slowly blinked, switching focus back to my face with deathly seriousness. “The bell of duty rings, friend.”

  “And none answer. Friend.”

  The alien smile returned. “Until now. Several gods were on the battlefield below. One watched, one did not return but should have, and the third did but should not have. This fog blights the land, and the engine of destruction unleashed here now twists the natural order. My patron wishes to see these oversights corrected.”

  Patron. My mouth went dry. Swallowing didn’t help and my fingers trembled as I opened Wyk’s flask. “What makes you think I can accomplish any of that?”

  Alex motioned me over to the rocks and lifted a hand when I joined him. Reality parted around his fingers. The tear spat out a sack, woven in a bright green and white diamond pattern. “You are not expected to do so without assistance. Take these gifts and use them well. They will not persist once they’ve fulfilled their purpose.”

  I cautiously took the sack, loosened the draw string, and pulled the first item out. It was a cheap acrylic gas station souvenir keychain with a name painted, sealed under the surface, Destini. It smelled faintly of strawberry bodywash and desperation. Confused, I eyed the mage in deliberate question as I sat the keychain on the rocks next to me.

  “A charm against dishonest whores.”

  I winced, both physically and mentally. “A charm against—”

  Alex nodded. “—dishonest whores, yes.”

  My mouth hung open for quite some time before I managed to ask, “How exactly does it work?”

  The mage shook his head. “Explaining would dispel its power, sorry.”

  The next item looked like someone had wrapped a Burger King crown in aluminum foil and glued costume jewels to it. Again, I stared at the mage.

  “The crown disrupts influences on the mind.”

  I bit back every last smart-ass comment violently fighting to escape my mouth. If it weren’t for the fact that these items clearly didn’t come from this world, I would have lost that fight. My hand returned from the sack with another item, a simple metal tuning fork that somehow carried an air of menace.

  “That tool rights the effects of discordant notes.”

  I stuck my hand back into the bag and suddenly realized there was far more space inside the bag than there should be as I pulled out what would have been a magnesium fire stick if it didn’t look like a low-polygon count foot-long phallus covered in sharp edges. “What the fuck, Alex?”

  The mage shrugged. “Apply without lube.”

  “What the fuck?” I repeated.

  “Explaining would—”

  Wincing in irritation, I finished his reply for him, “—dispel its power, I get it. But still.”

  “If it helps, I fashioned these as my patron directed. Their form prevents others from recognizing their power. That one in particular was difficult to safely craft.”

  Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

  “And this?” I pulled out the next item expecting it to be yet another absurd horror. It was a folded origami paper crane made from what appeared to be gold foil.

  “Another charm, but not for you. Handle it with care, for it carries more power than all the others combined, the sack included.”

  I deliberately, gently sat it next to the rest before sticking my hand back in the bag. Goddamn, how much shit is in here? My hand returned with a dingy gray sport sock. Before I could make a smart-ass comment, I noticed a government logo in the stripe at the top. “Wait, why are you giving me an ICE-branded sock. Is this another charm?”

  “It’s a tool, not a charm. As with the others, well, you know.”

  Not quite believing the next item was the last, I dug around in the bag for several seconds before squinting at the sphere that emerged. Basketball sized, sewn with heavy-duty green and blue cloth, holding it didn’t evoke any odd feelings like the previous items.

  “Ah, that. It’s mundane. My patron wanted to express his thanks.”

  “A ball? A regular, non-magic ball?” I squinted at the ball and shot the mage a confused look. A realization came screaming into the back of mind. “Hah! If it’s mundane, you can actually tell me what it does!”

  The edges of the mage’s lips quirked into an amused grin. “Can? Yes. Will? No. I’ve come to appreciate my patron’s approach. If I told you now, it’d ruin the surprise.” Alex suddenly appeared distracted, as if listening to some unheard voice. “Yes, yes. No peeking at the presents before they’re unwrapped, Samuel. Though, I should have been more explicit, the ball is part of the gift, but so is the bag. It will persist after your task is complete. Do take good care of it, as it is rather unique.”

  I had half the items back in the bag when I glanced over and asked, “So, what if I had some sort of magic capable of identifying these?”

  The mage shook his head, mildly amused. “Mortal magic won’t parse them, and if you somehow had access to something that could, the power they contain persists so long as it remains unobserved. By the by, the fewer people who even know they exist, the more potency they’ll retain.”

  More to myself than anything, I grumbled as I stuffed the last few items in. “Great, I have Schr?dinger’s Sack full of magic macguffins.”

  “You are more correct than you’d be comfortable knowing.” The man chuckled. “One last step, Samuel. If you would, hold the sack in both hands. Out a bit more.”

  Mimicking the mage’s hand motions, I asked, “What am I doing?”

  “Binding the containment device to you before decoherence occurs.”

  “Binding the device,” I echoed, suddenly even less comfortable with current events than I already had been. That sounds like a Jenna question. “What do you mean decoherence?”

  The mage’s eyes gleamed as his irritating alien grin returned. “Now, close your eyes and think Sam thoughts.”

  Again, I echoed the man’s statement. “How could I think anything other than Sam thoughts? They’re mine, right?”

  “Exactly! Thinking others’ thoughts would be unfortunate, especially at this stage, now shush. Close your eyes. We mustn’t delay any further unless you have more of a death wish than we gave you credit for.”

  After a long, calming breath to sooth the urge to choke the man, I closed my eyes. Okay, now what? I’m thinking ‘Sam’ thoughts. What the hell is this supposed to do, anyway?

  “Good, it is done. Open your eyes, Sam.”

  Now a little impatient, I opened my mouth the same time as I opened my eyes, intending to express that irritation with snark, but what I beheld stayed my tongue. When I closed my eyes, it’d been a checkerboard patterned bag that looked like my grandmother had crocheted it, but now it was a simple multicam MOLLE pouch, identical to either of the bigger cargo pouches I had on my vest.

  Seeing my reaction, Alex smirked. “Some discomfort is to be expected. Natural result of the operation. You’ll find that, with practice, you can repeat the operation to change its appearance, but only after you’ve completed your task. If you’re set on identifying it, it’s in your best interest to wait until afterward as well, as doing so may render it a mundane item. We make no representations as to the ultimate fate of any contents if such an event comes to pass.”

  The way the mage started to turn and walk away suggested some finality to our exchange. “Hey, hold up a second. I get you can’t tell me anything about the items, and probably not much more about the bag, either, but can you tell me anything about Annesport? Or Longreach?”

  Alex paused and mulled over the question for a moment. “Perhaps. Though, you might find the exchange unsatisfying. Great pains have been taken to disguise those items, to blind others to my patron’s influence. Too much forewarning would mark his influence just as plainly, but feel free to ask what questions you will.”

  I expected the disclaimer but still frowned anyway. If this guy’s patron was trying to avoid anyone figuring out he was behind anything, they were following reasonable precautions, at least in terms of what counterintelligence training the Army insisted I sit through. “So, the fog. I’m going to assume you can’t tell me what the source is, so is it dangerous?”

  The mage nodded. “Correct. I cannot disclose the source, but you’ll certainly find that out on your own. As to the hazard it presents, yes. It is quite dangerous, but primarily with prolonged exposure. A few hours? Some particularly sensitive individuals might notice minor side effects: sensory abnormalities, hallucinations, bleeding from the eyes, nose, and ears, that sort of thing.”

  I blinked. “Those are minor?”

  “Compared to long-term exposure, sure. There is a pond a fair bit down the way, maybe ten minutes into the fog. Back before the fog grew too thick, too potent, it turned the frogs gay. Can you imagine that? All of them, right in the middle of spring. Not a single tadpole to be found. A week later, dead.”

  Rubbing the bridge of my nose, I did my best to keep an even tone. “Are you sure there both sexes were present?”

  The mage scowled. “Are you implying I just merely assumed their genders? No, sir, I studied them, verified it with my own eyes. They actively sought their own sex and spurned the other.”

  I sighed. Okay, so that’s ask Jenna question. Maybe somebody back at the Green or the Glade might know something. “So, what do you know about skyferrets?”

  Grinning, Alex nodded and glanced at the sky. “That they’ve hunted out most of the animals that haven’t fled the fog.”

  “Are they natural or—”

  “No. They’re more like mutants than natural creatures. More than that, I cannot say. Too much forewarning.” After a few moments of silence, he grunted and started to walk away. “Well, as much as I’d like to humor you further, I’ve fulfilled my purpose and must continue elsewhere. Though, a word of advice, be careful who you trust, especially those in authority. I’d hate to lose the bet because you fell prey to something demonic.”

  “Wait, what?” I asked, now quite concerned.

  Instead of answering, the mage chuckled as motes of bright green light began falling from him. They trailed out behind him as he kept walking, slowly disintegrating into the breeze. In a matter of moments, the hillside before me looked like a storm of lightning bugs that quickly faded to nothingness.

  I chewed on my lip, not quite trusting my sanity, but I still held the pouch he’d given me and it was quite solid. “What in the everloving hell was that? What did I just agree to?”