Afterword

It was evening on Candlemere Island. After cleaning the dishes and putting them away, Marquand left his house and walked down to the dock to meet the monthly mail boat, which was scheduled to arrive this evening. With him he carried a package of letters for the outside world. In the twilight, he saw that the wisps were out, like fireflies. Over the years he'd come to terms with them, as had the small community of Erastil and Milani advocates that huddled along the bay.

With satisfaction he saw that the boat had just entered the bay. He'd arrived just in time, which was a good thing as he needed to rest before he greeted them. Ten minutes later he waited at the dock as the sailors tied up the ship.

“Hey, Little Bub,” he called to the postman as he stepped onto the dock.

“Marquand, brutha man!” They slapped hands. “We've got about eight boxes for you.”

“Do you have a boy to carry them home for me?”

“No man,” he laughed. “We got a real purty girl!”

“Oh, ah,” he looked up the ramp and saw a woman standing there observing them sourly, carrying a large carpetbag. “Hey, uh, Lily.”

She stalked down the ramp but wouldn't let him take her bag. “You know where to send my packages,” he called over his shoulder as he hobbled after her. “Lily!”

She stopped under the town's lone streetlamp. “I didn't know you were coming back this month,” he said.

“Of course I was coming back,” she replied, angry. “Especially when I heard about Junior's little hobby.”

“Oh, you mean climbing down under the tower into the center of the earth? How much trouble can he get into down there?”

She stopped walking to give him an incredulous look. “Rovagug? You've heard of him? The end of the world? One of the dozen or so places you can reach him?”

“Oh, Junior's got more sense than that.”

“Like his daddy? Like his uncle?” she spat furiously.

“I think so,” he replied, taking her arm. “Let me walk you home.”

“Don't you want to get back to your young delivery girl?”

“She'll wait,” he sighed.

The night was dark and there was only starlight to walk by, the road scarcely visible to their aging eyes.

“Do you ever think of the old days?” he finally asked.

“Oh, at night sometimes, when I can't sleep.”

“I feel like I've done so many things wrong,” he began. “Yet, I've managed to hand something off to the future that they'll be able to use.”

“Oh, Marquand,” she said with an exasperated tone. “You're a foolish old man.”

He laughed. “So, I haven't changed.”

“Not at all. Thanks for walking me home,” she patted his hand and went inside, stopping at the door. "Tell Junior to see me when he gets back."

"All right."

He waited until he'd seen that she'd lighted a lamp, and then he walked back towards town and a little tavern there called the “Monkey's Uncle.” There, he went through his mail, stopping when he came to a letter with familiar handwriting. Trembling, he tore it open and in the quavering light of an oil lamp and read:

Dear Uncle Marquand,
I can't tell you wonderful it was to hear that were you are doing well. Junior sounds like he's worse than Little Billee could ever be. Chrrllee says hi. We're still trying to train the rebels, you know how it goes. The Sodden Lands are, well, wet and I think we're going to move on as soon as our contract is up. There are many other—drier—places to carry the word of Erastil.

Tell Mom hi, and enjoy the coffee I sent.
I love you,
Pino

PS: Yeah, Chrrllee and I are married. There's no reason to put it off any longer. I'm hoping for a girl.

The old man sighed. Then went to the door, passing into the night, will-o-wisps lighting his way.

Letter 37—Whistling Past the Graveyard

Dear Pino,
I hope you are well. Don't be alarmed at the news you hear concerning relations between Brevoy and the P.U.R.K. I'm about to tell you what really happened when the Swordlords decided to bring us to heel.

Temple of Erastil

As you know, I'd been living at the Temple of Erastil near Tuskland. Lily lived, well, not with me, but nearby. Together we shared the responsibility of raising Kelm, jr. So far the only destiny he seeks is to cram as much chocolate as possible into his mouth, but I'm keeping a watchful eye. While I wouldn't cut off his head, I would give him to Cane in Thousandbreaths if he shows any inclination to grow up like his daddy.

As you know, after a year of mourning Vlad married Ilse and together they've had three children. Vlad was reelected President, but the shenanigans of the legislature make him wish longingly for the good old days of monarchical rule.

“I can stand the hassles over taxes, corruption, and ignorance, but what I hate are the provocateurs from Rostland and Issia. They buy votes and subvert our government!” he complained bitterly.

For myself, I feel the citizens need to learn how to survive without us, for good or ill. If we set for them the right example, they will always have a cornerstone upon which they can build.

One morning I rode into town as High Inquisitor for a meeting of the Council. I noticed right away that Vlad, who tries to affect the conviviality that made Lev so popular, was grim and ashen-faced.

“As you know,” he began, “our relationship with Restov has been steadily eroding. Two days ago their army crossed our border and destroyed Varnhold.”

“Again?” The table erupted with angry shouts. Vlad waited patiently for us to quiet.

“The 3rd cavalry was able to chase them back, but I'm afraid it's only the first sortie of a sustained effort. We must admit that diplomacy has failed and call out the militia.”

There were groans. “Lord, lord!”

As we complained, Vlad rolled up his sleeves. I'd never seen him so happy. “The wait was killing me," he said, "it was just a matter of time. Let's get to work!”

Many hours later he invited me into his office where he poured us each a snifter of fine Cheliax brandy.

“We can call a decent army into the field,” said Vlad. “Hell, the Pitaxians are spoiling for a fight, but I just don't believe we can whip the Swordlords, even if New Stetven sits it out. That's why I want you to get us an edge.”

“What sort of edge?”

“It's a two-part plan. In the second part you use your old contacts in New Stetven and convince them in the rightness of our cause. . . .”

“That won't cut much slack with those lizards. What are you offering them?”

Vlad smiled. “That's the first part of the plan.”

So, the next morning I found myself saddling old Autolycus and preparing for another long journey. Lily was there to say goodbye, with Junior, who ran skittishly about the barn, pursued by Lily's admonitions.

“I don't know when I'll be back. It could be weeks, it could be months . . .”

“. . . It could be never,” she finished for me.

“Not if I can help it.”

“Well, Marquand, I'll take care of the boy—either way.”

I looked once again at her ruined face, eyes bulging like cancerous frogs, teeth shattered, hair patched and gray.

“I love you,” I said.

“Fuck you,” she replied. “Let's go, Junior,” she called the boy to her. He ran up energetically and jumped, landing with a two-footed thud in front of me.

“Marquand, take me with you!”

I smiled and grabbed him with a growl, whirling him above my head before setting him down. He burst into giggles.

“Settle down!” Lily scolded us both. Taking his hand, she turned to go. Then stopped. “Take care of yourself, Marquand,” she said as they walked through the door.

“Goodbye, Marquand!” I heard Junior's reedy voice from afar.

After a moment's prayer, I saddled up, taking Autolycus into the courtyard where my Inquisition had gathered. After a short ceremony we rode northeast along the road to Whitehorse Abbey. Once again I was surprised at how quickly our land has been settled. No wonder Brevoy feels threatened, or is it envy . . . or greed?

Crossing the grassy plain, one of the scouts claimed he saw a “dragon or wyvern or something big” in the far distance. For my part, I was on the lookout for crow, and, sure enough, spied one a short time later. Soon after, we came to Whitehorse Abbey, which, like the rest of the P.U.R.K., had changed a great deal. The monks of Erastil living there had turned the place into a productive farm.

“Yes, water was a problem,” Haskell, the head abbot, said while showing me around. “But Evindra put in a good word with Thousandbreaths and they opened up a water portal. In exchange, we send them strawberries and melons! Ah, here she is!”

I turned to find Evindra smiling at me. “Friend Marquand,” she said, holding out her hand. I quickly grasped her.

“Maybe we should retire elsewhere,” she sighed, leading me to a nearby room. “But not just yet.”

“Marquand, you son of a beehive!” Cane stood there, grinning maniacally as he grabbed my hand. That's when I saw three tigers regarding me languidly from the far side of the room. “Don't mind them,” said Cane. “They've eaten.”

He led me into the next room, where, to my astonishment, sat Nyrissa herself. “My lady!” I said.

“Ah, citizen Marquand, how good to see you again, it seems like just yesterday.”

“Actually, it is yesterday to us,” Cane shrugged apologetically. “She wants to get this over with as quickly as possible.”

“Well, then, to cut to the chase, Rostland and Issia have been independently trying to destabilize the P.U.R.K. since Lev died . . .”

“Lev's dead?” Cane cried.

“Oh yeah, about five hours ago your time. Kelm and Skot, too. It's a long story.”

“Whoa.”

“Anyway, now that the Stolen Lands have been tamed, the Swordlords have decided to reap the harvest of all our work. Their troops have massed along the border and cross over with impunity.”

“What's that mean to me?” Nyrissa replied grumpily.

“If they invade and conquer the P.U.R.K., well, you're a part of the P.U.R.K., which means sooner or later they'll be knocking at your door.”

“I'd like to see that!” she sniffed.

Cane looked at me. “Sweetie, what he's trying to say is that if we kill them now while they're far away we won't have to clean up their sorry corpses in Thousandbreaths later.”

She looked from Cane to me, disdain changing to malevolent glee. “You have a point, my love! I had all kinds of ooshy things I was going to do to Tuskland if I'd only had the chance. Let's do it to them instead!” She leaped into the air with excitement.

For much of the rest of the evening we talked strategy, mostly Nyrissa telling us what she was going to do to Rostland once I got there. I took notes. Afterwards, I joined Evindra for a late repast on the porch of the guest house where I was staying. The prairie stretched dark and flat beneath the starry sky.

“That's what's wrong with these kind of relationships,” she said as we toasted one another. “Humans grow old so quickly. It's like you're made of smoke. I hardly get to know you before you're gone.”

And like smoke, I, too, drifted away the next morning, waving goodbye as she stood sadly by the gate. As much as I wanted to stay, my duty pushed me on. Not for the first time I wondered if duty was a force of Nature, like hunger or sleep.

Paizo

We took the trail northeast to Lake Reykal and New Stetven, the capital of Brevoy. I carried my passport and documents from the P.U.R.K., explaining my role as ambassador. The border guards were predictably unhelpful until reading my list of sponsors, some of them relatives of mine, and soon Autolycus and I were on our way with my Inquisition—now called a support team. We were given an "honor guard" to escort us into the city.

We crossed through the fertile lands of House Lebeda. I wish I could say that it felt like a homecoming to me after all these years, but I saw the land through different eyes than when I left, judged the people by different standards. Like all serfs, they are ready to hear the words of Comrade Lev and receive the love of Erastil.

We camped at the woods across from New Stetven as I explained the situation to Nyrissa and Cane listening through her Fable in the The House at the Edge of Time. Unfortunately, it's a one-way street, but at least they'll know how our plan progresses. Across the river in New Stetven we passed along the lake until reaching the family mansion where we were staying. There I was greeted by cousin Earle—the Duke of Earle—who showed me around the property.

“You can see that it is quite private. It's got it's own pond and is encircled by some of the finest vineyards in Brevoy. They help discourage interlopers.”

“Do you think we're in danger?”

“Well, you have your enemies, but overall enough friends to get you a fair hearing.”

“That's all I ask.”

Earle regarded me silently. I remember him as a boy. Fastidious. As a young man, the joke was that he would put anything in his mouth when overindulging the wine. Now, he is one of the most powerful men in New Stetven and someone, at the moment, on our side.

He left us, but the next day summoned me to a government building downtown. There were all of the important representatives in his faction. They bade me sit. I knew many of them from my days as a judge on the bench, and a few from when I was a student at the Academy. Such as “Bruiser” Brodeen.

“Marquand, you old son of a bitch, I never thought I'd see you again!" he shouted, grabbing my hand. "We heard you'd 'gone native.'”

“I'm a simple defender of the faith.”

“Yeah, Err-ass-tull!” He said obscenely, popping his eyes wide, like a vaudeville clown, mouth open, tongue lolling. “That's what I'm sayin'!”

I laughed with them. When the laughter died, Bruiser called for drinks and I had, for the first time in a long time, some of the finest lager on the planet. It helped wash down the taste of gall. Then he said, “Obviously, our government can't recognize yours,” he shrugged. “You're still bandits as far as we're concerned.”

“But .  . .”

“But nothing,” he waved dismissively. “You're lucky we don't turn you over the Swordlords.” I heard a sharp intake of breath from cousin Earle. “But you still have friends.” He put a finger to his lips. “What I recommend is that you keep very quiet. Don't make waves.”

With that, my public scolding was over and we retired for more lager. What I learned, over cigars and fine liqueur, was that Issia, the estates to the north, was very nervous over the situation in the Stolen Lands, they had always seen it as a plot by southern Restov to regain the upper hand in their ancient rivalry.

“That's why you need a strong P.U.R.K.,” I told them. “To act as a counterbalance. If they have their way they will add us to Rostland and destroy your balance of power. But if we can join Brevoy as an equal partner we will act as the balance, like the fulcrum in a pendulum, and we will all benefit.”

“Or we can send our own forces in and have our share!” Basquat del Grayhaven interrupted.

I let a moment pass before answering. “You can do that, but I advise you to wait another day before placing your bets.”

They laughed. “What are you going to do in a day, Marquand, run them out with centaurs and boogeymen?”

“Something like that,” I grimaced, taking my leave. I'd done enough good work for one night.

The next morning, as the fated hour arrived, I imagined what people were seeing at the headwaters of Lake Reykal. First a dimple in the water, quickly swirling and growing until it was a vortex 500 feet across. Then the black swans appear, hissing and honking as they make the lake their own. Anyone who dares drink the water sickens. Anyone who dares to move onto the water is quickly met with the force of the elementals that have gathered there.

It took some time, of course, for word to spread, but after it did I heard banging at my door. It was a delegation from the government. I met them in the study.

“What do you think you're playing at?” Count Eskew Rogarvia growled as I entered.

“Me? I'm not playing at anything.”

“Don't bullshit me,” he strode up until he stood inches from my nose, quivering with anger. I couldn't help notice that, despite protocol and plain courtesy, his sword was belted.

I sighed. “This isn't play. We will defend the P.U.R.K. with everything we have.”

“But this . . .”

“Is only the start.”

Kicking over a chair, he stormed out of the room.

I looked to the others. “What do you think?”

Cecil Medvyed, cleared his throat. At least my old fraternity brother wasn't overtly wearing a weapon. “Pardon the Count," he said dryly. "That lake borders his estate. How long do you expect it to last?

I shrugged. “Whenever they manage to destroy the water elementals, I guess . . . unless they chase them downstream, of course.”

“Marquand,” Lord Cavvandisch of House Surtova interrupted. “We're  downstream from there.”

I shook my head with resignation. “And in a few days the poisoned water will reach us and sicken everything that it touches.”

The room erupted with outraged anger. In a moment they'd left, cursing me on the way out, until only Cecil remained. Studying  me, he offered a pinch from his ornate snuffbox, but I shook my head.

While he indulged, I walked over to the window overlooking the stormy lake. “It's my country, too,” I said.

“What do I tell Lord Mayor Sellemius?”

“Store water,” I said. “Lots of water, although, really, the Swordlords should be able to take care of this . . . eventually. It'll cost them.”

“Then what?”

“That would be telling,” I looked back at him. “It won't get better and New Stetven may be the capital of Brevoy but it's in Rostland.”

“I thought you'd say that.” He stood to take his leave. “Sellemius is only the mayor but I think he can act as a conduit to the King.”

“Then tell him that in about a week Rostland's western forest will have a little . . . problem.”

“Problem?”

“You won't miss it.”

And so, over the next few weeks, Nyrissa's First World minions came over to play. First the so-called Shrieking Children—swarms of miniature mandragoras—invaded the nearby towns. Killing them was something like reaping nettles and more than a few proud Swordlords were nibbled to death by their fearsome wooden teeth.

While the younger lords were occupied, their elders found themselves the target of the Horned Hunter and his ettin companions. The shredded corpses of several Lords were found in the streets of New Stetven the next morning. I began receiving death threats with the mail.

There were reports from Restov of a Nightmare Spire's sudden growth outside of town and the dreams it inspired of the Nightmare Rook. Having endured the Rook's attention myself, I felt some pity, but not enough to end their torment.

From the Ice Rime Peaks above the Valley of Fire came word of Ice Giants descending to destroy everything within their reach. Meanwhile, the Rostland Plains grew thick with razor-sharp briers. My old friends, the three-armed athach trod morbidly amongst them.

That day I found Cecil once again at my front door, this time to summon me to the Ruby Fortress to meet King Noleski Surtova. Of course, I'd once roomed with the King—Bertie—at the Academy, but here we had to be formal, at least in front of the Swordlords, who looked a little frayed around the edges.

“Now, Lord Marquand . . .”

“Just Marquand will do, your Majesty. We eschew titles in the P.U.R.K.” I heard one of the Swordlords snort with derision.

The King cleared his throat. “We've gone over your proposal and have made a few changes, but nothing too drastic. If they meet your approval, when next my government convenes it will be as a tripartite body. The P.U.R.K. will be an equal partner with Issia and Rostland, enjoying all the rights and protections of what we're calling Greater Brevoy. I'll visit these new lands next summer.”

Despite the glowering Swordlords, the room echoed with applause. “Well done, Marquand, well done.”

“One moment!” came a loud voice from the floor of the chamber—Eskew Rogarvia. He strode to the foot of the throne. The King's Guard moved to block him but Surtova waved them away. “What is it, Count Eskew?”

“I declare Right of Challenge !” he barked.

There were gasps.

“But you're the best swordsman in all of Restov,” the King replied. "It will be murder."

“It's not my challenge!” he crowed, gesturing melodramatically, “but his!”

From the hall beyond came the ominous clanking of heavy armor and the startled murmuring of nobles as they scurried out of the way of what looked to me like a giant Hellknight, but in fact was a creature called First Blade.

“I have to fight him?” I gulped. I admit, dear Pino, that I was afraid.

Paizo

“Her,” Eskew corrected, smirking. “Meet Lady Godivva of the Iron Heart!”

“Wow,” grimaced the King, “too bad, man, but it's the law.” His face had the look I remembered from when we were freshman. He had been very fond of pranks. He shrugged, “Nobody's invoked that law since the days of Choral the Conqueror!”

“Justice,” I said quietly, turning to meet the First Blade.

“Not here!” Eskew Rogarvia cried, but it was too late, I struck with all my might, holy sword flashing true strike. Sparks flew as my sword bounced off her chestplate. I heard low laughter as I struck a second, then a third time. By now the others were forgotten as we circled one another.

“Get your weapon so we can fight!” I cried.

“She is the weapon,” Count Eskew called helpfully just as the powerful giant lunged, catching me with two powerful butcher blows that left me gasping. Unexpectedly, I was revived by an overwhelming anger, like a barbarian's rage.

Whipping my vorpal  blade towards her head, I landed two solid blows that nevertheless seemed to do little damage. Once again she slammed into me. I tasted blood. No longer able to restrain my anger I cast flame strike, hoping to broil her within her thick armor.

“You didn't want to do that, Marquand, ” Eskew Rogarvia taunted.

“And why not?” I growled, exasperated.

“She's kind of immune to spells . . . except fire, which rejuvenates her!”

The First Blade  thwacked me so hard I was flung halfway across the room. From there it became a straight up fight, and while the First Blade  was better protected, I had the better weapon and moved faster, landing three blows to her two. I also kept pulling true strike  out of my hat until finally hearing her grunt of surprise and the satisfying sound of my blade hitting home. But she wasn't done, erupting into shards of razor sharp spinning metal, sleeting against me relentlessly. I fell back in disarray.

I ran, as from a swarm of bees, but the metal blades continued striking. So many crammed into my visor that I stumbled blindly and fell. That's when I felt the first thin blade that had somehow breached the seam of my armor. I felt it scratching up my leg. Then there was another and another. I felt a sting in my nose, felt the blood run down my face, realizing something was in my helmet. I screamed as my throat filled with dozens of tiny bites.

Sometime later I woke in a convalescent bed, a nurse staring mournfully at me. I tried speaking but my throat felt like it was filled with fire.

“Don't try to talk, hon,” she said sympathetically. “You're lucky to be alive.”

I fell asleep again and the next few days passed like a dream as I slowly regained strength. On the fourth day I heard a commotion at the door and before me stood Cecil.

“Why . . .” I whispered.

“Don't talk, my brave friend.”

“Why am I alive?” I persisted.

“I finally prevailed upon the King that, as the First Blade  was not a citizen of Rostland—not really alive at all, when you think of it—that it couldn't actually invoke the ancient law against you.”

I coughed, spitting bloody phlegm into a brass cuspidor. “Very clever. Why didn't you think of that before the fight began?” I rasped.

He actually laughed. “To teach you humility, Mr. Citizen-Inquisitor,” Cecil leaned forward, hissing, no longer my friend. “Your P.U.R.K. is an equal partner in Greater Brevoy but, remember, some partners are more equal than others.”

For once I was grateful for my sore throat. Time will tell, dear Pino. I think they're whistling past the graveyard, myself. Once the citizens—not the gentry—of “Greater” Brevoy see how Comrade Lev's (pardon me, Saint Comrade Lev's) participatory democracy works, there will be no saving the old order. Some will survive, of course, and even prevail, but at least a ruling class that has to earn its living is better than one that floats on top due to an accident of birth.

I spent the season in New Stetven, recovering and acting as minister until the first elected representatives arrived, drilling them in protocol. That's when I learned I'd been elected to lead our faction in the new Estates-General, so I will not be returning to Tuskland until the King visits there. I'm sorry for this, I have not been able to see you grow up as I promised your father Jaquizz.

Which is why I've asked your Mother to return to New Stetven with me and to bring you along. It's a brave new world and you must prepare for your place in it.

Say your prayers,
Uncle Marquand

Letter 36—The Declaration of the Rights of the Citizen

Dear Pino,
As we rode hard along the Little Sellen River Road, I was amazed at how many farms, villages, and churches we encountered along the way. I saw, with satisfaction, that we've managed to civilize this wild land. Now we need to secure it for future generations.

Thanks to R. Perry

Passing through Ironstone Gully, we climbed the steep road into the Tors of Levenies, soon standing in a familiar spot across the river from Vordakai's Island. There we were met by a small contingent of centaurs, led by our old friend, Xamanthe Silverfire. With her was Aria Stormmane, who merely frowned when she saw me.

“We set out as soon as we heard the news,” Xamanthe said. “There's been no activity except when some barbarians showed up claiming to be friends of yours. A couple of them went over to the island but never came back.”

We pitched our camp nearby. When I had the opportunity, I asked her about Alexandoss. She eyed me speculatively, pawing the ground nervously. “She sends her greetings and asks that you visit sometime to meet her mate and their foal, Little Bub.”

Prepared as I was for that answer, still it tugged my heart. “I'm sure my duties will bring me to your part of the P.U.R.K.,” I replied. “Let her know that I wish them well,” I sighed.

“She knows,” Xamanthe finally smiled.

She joined us as we rode over the the barbarian encampment. As we approached, their guards watched with obvious mirth.

“Are you lost?” one said sarcastically as he slid lazily off his horse.

“We're here to speak with your leader,” said Lev evenly.

“Leader?” he spat, hitting Lev's horse on the hoof. It whinnied nervously.

“Oops.”

“I don't have time for this,” Lev growled, sliding off the horse. The barbarian stood sneering before him, looking as wide as Lev was tall. The pungent scent of excited barbarian musk rolled over us like a thick fog.

“Lev,” I tried to reason, “he's only a boy.”

At that I saw the barbarian gape with astonishment. “You're the Comrade Lev?”

“That's me.”

Suddenly the boy was on his knees crawling to Lev's horse, using his tunic to wipe off the begrimed hoof. The others also leaped off their animals, running towards us with excitement, throwing their weapons to the ground.

“Man, I'm your biggest fan!” a blond one yelled.

“Will you make a baby with my sister?” another asked plaintively.

“Hey! Let him make a baby with me!” a third offered.

Eventually, they led us—rather, carried us triumphantly—to a group of hard looking warriors sitting around a campfire, eating something that seemed to be eating them in return. Their leader, a powerful young woman, stepped forth. It took a moment for me to see past the hair, scars, tattoos, and piercings to recognize our Piea standing there.

“Marquand, you old son-of-a-bitch,” she said with a halfway grin, “still breakin' hearts?”

“By the Horned Hunter!” I replied, “I never thought we'd see you again.”

“We heard about your rumble and wanted a piece of it,” she said, squeezing me hard enough to rouse a judgment of protection.

“Hoo, baby, you're hot!” I heard a voice from behind me as Skot Skevins strode up. “Hey, Marquand, you old dog. I knew you were upright, I just didn't know you went all the way up!”

“That's forthright, Skevins, I'm forthright.”

“Who are your friends?” he joked, pointing at the bandoleer of shrunken heads that girdled Piea's body like a voluptuous raptor.

“Boyfriends,” she corrected. “But a couple got away.”

Skevins laughed, “Hey, I like this girl!”

“If you'll excuse us, Skot,” Lev quickly interrupted. “We have business with the lady.”

“Leave some for me,” he hollered after us.

Piea lead us to a tree near the water's edge, well past where the falls cascaded noisily. VordaKelm's Island sat placidly in the middle of the tumult. We stared out at the accursed place as several youngsters served us fermented mares' milk.

“Guys, seriously, you let Vordakai come back to life?”

“It wasn't exactly us,” Lev countered grumpily, picking hair from his teeth after his first sip. “Kelm had his own agenda all along, with himself as Emperor. It's no wonder he allied with a reactionary like Vordakai.”

“I used to think he was cute,” Piea said, “but no more.”

“Piea,” Xamanthe interrupted. “We heard that a couple of your colleagues visited the island.”

“Yeah, we found pieces of one of them downriver,” she replied. “They were hoping to find some loot before you arrived, but I guess they got caught.”

“We have troops following,” Lev said after a moment's reflection, “but I don't think we can wait that long. VordaKelm is already too powerful.”

“Yeah, and maybe he's got allies heading this way, too,” Piea grimaced.

“You've heard something?”

“Ah, you know, mercenaries are always looking for trouble. It was nothing definite.”

Dusk shrouded the land. “We should go while we still have light,” said Lev.

“Our boys went in on the east side.”

“That's the way we went in the first time,” said Vlad, “but there's another beach on the south that hides an easier way.” We all looked at him skeptically. “Mostly easier," he sputtered, "or, at least, shorter. Be sure to bring as many animal skins as you can bear.”

We quickly hiked down to the water's edge where I unfolded our boat. “Be alert,” said Lev. “We cleared out Vordakai's lair last time we were here, but Kelm has had years to restock the place.”

But the rapidly flowing stream remained untroubled by ancient reptiles, water trolls, and dread zombie cyclopes. Soon we were standing beneath a tall limestone cliff. “The entrance is around here somewhere,” said Vlad, pulling up a veil of dark green vines. Humming while he searched, disappearing from sight. “Over here!” we heard a muffled voice behind the vegetation. We followed into darkness.

“We'll have to climb,” he said. “Watch out for the poison ivy! Oh, and don't forget to bring the boat.”

“What?”

“We'll need it.”

“Here,” said Xamanthe. “Tie it on my back.”

In a cleft about halfway up the escarpment we found a stone door that we quickly pushed aside. Inside, a black tunnel stretched into the hill. It stank of tar and brimstone. Casting a spell of light we followed Vlad inside.

I looked back at Xamanthe. “Are you all right?”

“No,” she exhaled, undoubtedly remembering the last time she was here and the cell where she was tortured. “But I'll make it. I'll never rest as long as a hint of that evil is alive in this world.”

We came to steps climbing deeper into the limestone. At the top was a platform. Vlad crawled along the base of the wall, sweating and muttering under his breath until we heard a sharp clamor and a heavy door rolling to its side. Noxious gas filled the room. “You may not want to breathe for awhile,” Vlad helpfully warned.

“Not this place again,” I groaned.

Piea helped Vlad untie the unfold the boat, covering the bottom with the animal skins. “Get in,” he said. “We'll pole our way across the lake of tar.”

“Won't we get stuck?”

“Not if you cast f-r-e-e-d-o-m o-f m-o-v-e-m-e-n-t.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Soon we reached the far shore, scrambling into the foyer leading to more steps and another long hallway. “These guys live like rats,” Piea spat.

“That's because they are rats,” hissed Xamanthe.

Avoiding the crypts, we stepped immediately into Feasthall. This time there were no rotting corpses sitting around the great stone table to greet us, no undead creatures of Vordakai to harass. Only silence as we hurried past the pillars to the stairs on the far side of the room.

“I don't get it,” said Piea, “Why aren't there monsters around to soften us up?”

“Oh, Kelm knows we can't win,” I replied. “He's seen the future. He's got no reason to soften us up.”

She stopped. “If we can't win, why are we here?”

“That's a good question,” I continued on. “But you'll have to ask Kelm.”

“That makes me feel a whole lot better,” she huffed.

“Come on!” Lev hissed. “We're almost there.”

Passing through a door, we were once again standing by a fountain emptying into a sulfurous pool, but this time no water elemental rose to greet us. Going deeper into the complex we searched the library but even the great Throne of Bones sat empty.

“He's got us where he wants us,” Lev complained. “Where is he?”

“Maybe we should vamoose,” Piea said nervously. “While we can.”

“What have we missed?” Lev asked. We looked at each another, revelation dawning, “The Oculus Chamber!”

Backtracking, we reached the stairs going down into the place where all the evil in the world is focused. “This is it,” said Lev, “Prepare yourselves, and good luck!”

Beyond the doors was a large octagonal chamber filled with a glow like moonlight, its dome made of opaque white crystal, like an inverted eye, gazing into the room below. Arcane symbols covered the walls and a twenty-foot-diameter circle was incised into the stone of the floor. Where the focus of the great eye fell was a crystal throne and on that throne sat our great nemeses, VordaKelm!

“Dude!” Piea exclaimed, seeing the two heads.

“Welcome, welcome,” Kelm greeted. “We thought you'd never get here!”

Lev's eyes narrowed contemptuously as he stepped up front, gazing up at the two-headed abomination on its throne. “This is the thanks I get?”

“Thanks?” Kelm sneered. “For what? Getting underfoot?”

“For convincing Lord Kazelov to let you tag along to begin with. He thought you addled.”

“Well, look at us now!” Kelm boasted, dropping off the throne and breaking into a little dance—all he lacked was a cane and straw boater—well, two straw boaters.

“I thought we shared a vision,” Lev scolded. “A world of citizens, free and equal, allowed to prosper instead of merely serving the aristocracy.”

“A vision?” Kelm scoffed. “You call what you have a vision? I call it blindly grappling with whatever falls into your grasp.”

“Every citizen free to follow their Destiny!”

Again Kelm laughed, this time joined by Vordakai's bass rumble. “Destiny is given, not followed. My Destiny—our Destiny—is to rule!”

“We'll see about that,” Lev growled.

“Little man!” For the first time Vordakai spoke, his voice burned and raw. “I will enjoy making you grovel.”

“Whoa there, big fella,” Kelm said. “None of that. These are our friends . . . at least for the moment.

"He's excitable,” Kelm whispered to us behind his hand. “Pretend you're afraid.”

“Never again!” Xamanthe roared, raising her spear defiantly.

Kelm rolled his eyes. “Really, gang, don't make it so hard on yourselves. Just go on ruling your little kingdom, you'll barely notice we're here.”

“You impregnated my wife!” Lev growled, infuriated by his audacity.

“She thought it was you. It's all good!”

“Let me kill this Lev,” Vordakai rasped. “Better yet, let me torment him for all eternity!”

“Now that's just rude,” Kelm replied. “You see my problem,” he said to the rest of us. “You piss off Vordakai and he gives me no end of grief. It's easier just to give him his way.”

“It may be easier to remove him entirely,” I replied, pulling out my holy sword, wishing I still carried Briar.

“Damn,” Kelm shook his head. “I wish you hadn't done that.”

“Enough talk!” Vordakai roared.

With that we launched our assault. Vlad and Lev taking the wings; Piea, Xamanthe, and myself going right up the middle. Kelm merely laughed, but Vordakai seemed to be taking it seriously. I felt myself lifted and flung like a rag doll.

I woke to the sound of wailing, finally realizing that it was Vlad I heard. “No, no, no, no, no!” he cried, bending over Lev.

“He bought it,” I heard Piea moan. “That's the only reason we're alive.” She was lying on the floor, her leg twisted at a very strange angle. I saw Xamanthe struggle to her hooves.

Nearby, Kelm and Vordakai ignored us as they argued with one another.

“Man, I don't know why you have to be such a dick,” Kelm was saying.

“Vordakai answers to no one!”

“Yes, well about that. I've been feeling you growing stronger for quite some time now.”

There was an evil chuckle. “You can't stop me.”

“No, but that doesn't make me powerless.”

“Little man,” Vordakai laughed. “I'll eat you and then I'll forget you ever existed.”

Kelm smiled nearsightedly as he leaned forward, tapping Vordakai on his jeweled eye—the oculus of Abaddon—and I heard a sharp crack as it shattered.

“Yoink!”

“Ughkkle!” Vodakai gasped.

“Now, Marquand!” Kelm called, eyes staring dreamily more-or-less in my direction. “For the love of your Erastil, hurry!”

I leaped forward, my flaming holy sword chopping through Vordakai's neck. As his head rolled away, blood spurted thickly from the stump. “Justice!” I cried as Kelm slumped to the floor.

“Ha,” he crowed weakly. “I knew you'd say that.” Holding his head in my lap, I heard his last words. “Suck on that, Vordakai. I . . .”

“Won,” I finished for him. “You won.”

Looking up, I saw that Piea was busy smashing Vordakai's head to pulp. Vlad was still sobbing inconsolably as Xamanthe looked on.

I walked over, putting a hand on his shoulder. “What happened?”

“When you and Piea went down, Lev used himself as a shield for us all. I did what I could but VordaKelm overwhelmed us.”

“What did he say at the end?”

Vlad smiled through the tears. “He gave a speech, of course! I think that's why VordaKelm killed him.”

We burned what was left of Vordakai's head and buried our old comrade, although I would be a liar if I didn't admit that we added a ration of quicklime to his grave. We'll burn them later.

Vlad twisted Piea's leg back into shape, but she declined our offer to carry her out. “It feels good,” she lied, limping after us.

Several days later we prepared to break camp. With my support, Vlad had assumed the mantle of First Citizen of the P.U.R.K., at least until we can have a proper election. In an envelope in his backpack, we found a final mesage.

Comrades,
Do not mourn me, if you're reading this I've had a hero's death. Now I must ask a favor. Finish our job! Make P.U.R.K. the cooperative democracy we've dreamed of and worked for all these years.

You will find my final speech in my sock drawer at home. I call it The Declaration of the Rights of the Citizen. Study it, make changes, but please, I beg you, stay true to its spirit.

Give my love to Ilse. Please don't kill the bastard. 

Yours, Lev Davidowich

In a simple army wagon, Vlad prepared to take Lev's body back to Tuskland. “I want this place razed!” he said, putting on his gloves and preparing to mount his horse, Bessie. “Everything burned, every stone turned over, and then buried, forever and for all time.”

“Don't worry,” I said. “Nyrissa's sending over some 'First World Wizards' and we're going over this place thoroughly. Then I think I'll divert the river through it. Cleanse it.”

He sighed. “See you back in Tuskland.”

As they left, Piea came to say her goodbye.

“Your leg seems a lot better,” I said.

“Oh, yeah,” she replied, “I've been doing a lot of laying around—staying off it.”

“So, where are your bandits off to next?”

“Don't worry,” she pouted. “We ain't hanging around the P.U.R.K. I hear there are opportunities knockin' down in Galt. I think we'll go there.”

She hugged me goodbye. “Ya know, Marquand, now that I've been around the block a few times, I'm thinking I could go for someone a little more seasoned.”

I laughed, clasping her by her thickly-muscled shoulders. “And end up like one of them?” I indicated her bandoleer of shrunken heads.

“Oh, you're not like them,” she purred, leaning close.

That's when I noticed a new trophy swinging freely on her belt—the still-drying head of Skot Skevins! “I've someone waiting at home,” I told her and that, at least, was no lie.

“Lucky girl,” she grinned, giving me a squeeze that crushed the air from my lungs.

Relieved, I watched them ride away.

I'll be home soon,
Uncle Marquand

Letter 35—Destiny's Not All It's Cracked Up to Be

Dear Pino,

This is one letter that I fear will never reach you, for I sit here moldering in Kelm's dungeon underneath his tower. It's dark and it's damp and things slither across the floor. The slops bucket has not been emptied since the occupant before last, but in a few days it won't matter because I won't have anything left to expel. The pencil and paper I use were given me to to confess my sins against Kelmland (his name for the P.U.R.K.) but I'm writing you instead.

Nethys                 Paizo

As we entered Tuskland enthusiastic crowds greeted us, cheering madly and throwing garlands as we rode past them into the Citadel. Queen Ilse eagerly awaited her “Dumpling,” and mine was waiting as well. You've grown so much, nearly as tall as your Mother. Still, there was the coldness that's been between us since the incident with Lily and her cohort, and you quickly turned your head rather than kiss me on the cheek. Little Billee surprised me by being even littler than the first time we'd met. “What happened to Bigger Billee?” I asked.

“Oh, he got deflated again by some mean old witch.”

“First Citizen for life! First Citizen for life!” The crowd chanted as Lev stood beaming before them. “Speech! Speech!”

Never needing much prodding when it comes to speechifying, Lev gave them a real barnburner about his pride in the patriotic citizens who had responded to their country's need.

"Mead all around!" he cried.

I watched the crowd. “Have you seen Kelm?” I asked Vlad.

“Why no, I suppose he doesn't know we're here.”

“I thought he could see the future.”

That's when Bert Askew rode up. “Kelm sends his regrets,” he said unctuously. “The signs just aren't right for him to come out today.”

“What? Is he afraid of a little rain?”

“Let it be, Marquand,” Vlad cautioned, eyeing Bert. “Kelm is fated to be elsewhere, is all.”

“Of course,” I replied. “I guess I'm tired. It's a long ride from the First World.”

“No problem,” Bert said, swinging off his horse.

I saw you cower behind your Mother. “I guess we'll go home and prepare supper,” she said.

“I'll be there soon . . . and it's good to be home again.”

We watched you leave then turned our attention back to Lev, who was thanking the citizens again and holding Ilse closely.

“Such a shame,” said Bert. “Such a shame.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Queen,” he said. “Don't you know?” He tsked. “Well, neither does he,” he nodded towards Lev.

I clenched my teeth. “What?”

“Oh, she's been with every manjack in the P.U.R.K. since you've been gone, and many of the women, too!”

“What!”

“Ask anyone. And the baby, nuh-uh. Who knows whose it is?”

I'm glad you were not there to witness my anger, dear Pino. I pulled out my whip, declaring it Bert Askew bane. The crowd backed away from us.

“I thought you needed to know,” Askew yelped, voice cracking.

“What I need to know,” I denounced him, “is, who told you this?”

Askew gulped. “M-M-M-Master Kelm.”

“Master Kelm?”

“That's what he makes us call him when you guys ain't around!” Bert screeched, edging away.

“Justice!” I cried, “For your lies!” I fiercely lashed my whip across his body.

“Aggha!” he cried. “It's his baby! His!”

“Piercing!” I growled, casting flames of the faithful as I struck again. Askew shrieked.

“Kelm knocked her up! He told me himself, and he didn't even have to touch her to do it!”

“Destruction!” I shouted. The whip struck him mercilessly as he fell senseless to the ground. I stood above him, breathing heavily as I slowly became aware of my surroundings. I noticed the crowd, quailing away. There was Lev, Vlad, Ilse, shock on their faces. Then I heard a murmur and citizens were pointing at Askew, who lay like a broken doll. In fact, he was a broken doll, dark button eyes staring unseeing—a simulacrum, like Trask had been.

The crowd gasped as a bright, holy light erupted over the city from Kelm's tower. It descended slowly until hovering just above the square. Barely visible at the dazzling center, Kelm smiled beneficently.

“Ah, I knew it would come to this.”

I heard the words, “Master Kelm,” pass through the frightened crowd.

“Marquand, you've come such a long way,” he patronized.

“So have you.”

“If you only knew. Vlad,” he turned to my companion. “You always were the perfect asskisser. How does Lev's taste?”

“Like honey compared to yours!”

Some in the crowd laughed nervously.

“And you, dear Lev, how goes the revolution?”

“We've just signed a treaty with a powerful First World entity,” Lev couldn't help bragging. Then he frowned. “What's this I hear about you and my wife?”

Kelm snorted, “Yes it's true. I sent her a simulacrum in the form of yourself and filled her full of my vital essences. She said it was the best sex she'd ever had. She's fated to carry my baby.”

Ilse cried out, suddenly fainting into Lev's arms. He held her protectively.

“Who else is your vile simulacrum?” I roared.

From behind the glare I heard Kelm sigh as a ripple passed through the crowd and one after another of our citizens stiffened and fell to the ground, staring up at us with vacant button eyes. Only a few of us were left staring in disbelief, glancing from the dummies to where Kelm floated unconcerned. They were his all along.

Kelm laughed and that's when my sky turned white. I woke up here, in this damp tomb. I hope you and your Mother are safe. Kelm is not a vindictive man, but he is practical.

How much time had passed I know not, when I heard the sound of feet scraping along the floor. Someone was approaching, carrying a torch. Behind him scurried Lily Tesketin! She stopped before my cell, staring intently through its bars.

“How the mighty have fallen.”

Her scarred face was made even more hideous by the play of the guttering torch.

“My god, Lily”

“Don't you dare pity me, Marquand.”

“I . . . I'm so sorry.”

“Kelm said that you would be this way.”

“Why are you here, Lily?”

She smiled grotesquely. “I have a little proposition for you.”

“What is that?”

“Kelm wants you to accept his eminence,” she said. “He wants to make you Defender of the Realm.”

“And my first act, as Defender of the Realm, will be to strangle him.”

She laughed, “He said you'd say that, too.” She looked at the guard. “Give me your torch and open the door.”

As the man fumbled with the keys, I heard her mumbling a few words. The door clanged open and suddenly the man cried in pain. He fell to the floor as Lily wiped off her knife. She said a prayer as his life bled away.

“You're free, Marquand. He can't see us for the moment, I've opened up a little bubble of uncertainty, but we have to act quickly.”

“Why?”

“Oh, don't worry,” her ruined lips smirked. “I'm not doing this for you. Kelm has to die and there's no one else to do it.”

“What about Vlad and Lev?”

“They're safe for the moment, but holed up in the Citadel with what's left of the population.”

“By the Twelve!” I exclaimed. “How can I possibly reach him? No one can enter his tower who has not been there before.”

“But you have,” she laughed, looking around my cell. “After all, you're in the dungeon beneath the tower.”

“By holy Erastil!”

“Here's your sword. Now go, and Milani be with you!”

Stepping over the hapless guard, I made my way up a long winding staircase until I reached an airy room with a domed roof, Kelm's orrery. There I found him sitting confidently on a dais above me, relaxed, with his back to me, staring past the orbs spanning the starry sky.

“It's good of you to come,” he said.

“I don't suppose I had a choice.”

“There's always choice,” he snorted. “It's just not as free as we might like.”
I circled around, looking for a way to reach him.

“Ah, Marquand, don't waste your time.”

Suddenly, he turned to face me and I fell back in disarray, for I saw that there were now two heads on Kelm's broad shoulders. One was the nearsighted child of Destiny I'd once known and the other was the evil undead cyclops licht known as Vordakai!

“Yeah,” said Kelm, seeing my face. “Destiny's not all it's cracked up to be.”

At this the second head lolled, red eye glaring vilely, spitting at me angrily.

“Don't mind him,” Kelm smiled benignly. “Care for a drink?”

What had I to lose? “Yes, please.”

Handing me a crystal goblet of pure water, Kelm stared at me, eyes unfocused, almost blind, yet I had no doubt he was seeing me clean through.

“How did this happen?” I finally asked.

“Well, you remember the little showdown you and the boys had with me—I mean, Vordakai?”

VordaKelm

“Too well. I saw you disappear as dust.”

“You thought you did. It was an illusion. Oh, Vordakai was trapped—in a soul jar he'd hidden in the floor in hopes of trapping one of you. But when he lost his battle he used it to trap himself instead, hoping you'd overlook his hiding place. The dust was a little sideshow magician's trick.”

“That's as plausible as everything else that's happened to me in the last five years.”

“Anyway, when I set up my dimension door and started poking around over there, god, I was in ecstasy. The library, it was sweet, and I soon learned what a badass V had been in his day. You guys had been lucky when you fought him, he was a figment of himself. Yeah, I wanted a piece of that. So, when I discovered the soul jar you'd missed and figured out who was in it, well, I did a stupid thing.”

“You let him out.”

“Letting him out wasn't a big deal, he was puny back then, but he had such potential! I hated to see it go to waste.”

“So you . . .”

Kelm looked back at me over his shoulder, Vordakai mostly hidden behind his head. “Like I said, he has vast potential, together we can finally realize my dream of ruling everything, everywhere. Is that so bad?” He patted Vordakai's head like a dog's. “The only way to control him is to be him, I figured. Our fates are twined.” He crossed his fingers, then sighed. “But even here I may be wrong.”

From behind, Vordakai slyly smiled.

“You must kill me, Marquand,” Kelm begged as the light gathered around him. “And soon.” He was gone.

I stood there for a moment to get my bearings. There was no doubt where he'd—they'd?—gone. Then I heard an ominous rumble and the tower began to shift. As loud pops quaked throughout the building and the dust of breaking plaster filled my nose, I cast a spell of expeditious retreat and let my boots of speed carry me down and outside the building as it crumbled around me. Hearing shrieks of pain I turned back but, after digging one sad corpse out of the rubble and seeing it's button eyes staring back at me, I turned and hurried instead to the citadel. There I found the remaining citizens of Tuskland huddled in abject gloom.

“I was married to her for years . . . our kids!” one man sobbed.

“One of them freaks was my business partner,” another groused. “He had all the money!”

“I always said he was a dummy, then he done gone and proved it!”

“I thought Janet was my girlfriend.”

“No, she was mine!”

"Mine!"

“I like her just as she is,” said a third, holding what appeared to be a rouged scarecrow in his lap.

I quickly went inside where I found Lev, Vlad, and Skot Skevins sitting at the great table.

“Marquand! You're safe!”

“Yes . . .”

“Kelm?”

I shook my head. “He went to ground. Anyway, he's not Kelm anymore.”

“Not . . . Kelm?”

I explained what I'd seen. “He's VordaKelm now!”

They stared at me in silence.

“Uncle Marquand!” I turned to see you running towards me, your Mother following.

“Thank Erastil!” I breathed, taking you into my arms, sobbing.

“Let's never fight again,” you cried.

“Never,” I agreed as your Mother embraced us both.

“Well,” Vlad finally said. “What do we do now?”

That's when I noticed that you were carrying a large dolly. “Aren't you too old for that?” I asked. Again your eyes filled with tears as I realized that the dolly you carried was dressed just like Little Billee, fat cheeks like a squirrel's, hard button eyes shining.

“By the Holy Horn of Erastil!”

“It happened to all the Billees,” your Mother added quietly.

I turned back to Lev and Vlad. “Where's Ilse?”

“She's resting.”

"The child!"

"Will still be a child, no matter the father."

I clasped Lev by the shoulder. “We have to go get him. Now,” I said.

“Now you're talkin' my language,” Skevins agreed, banging the table.

“Wait,” Vlad interrupted, “We're not ready for that.”

“It's now or never,” I said. “Kelm and Vordakai are about equally powerful now, if we wait much longer Vordakai will be in control.”

“But I thought Kelm was our enemy.”

“Kelm is on our side. He wants to die. He was fated to merge destinies with Vordakai and rule the world. What he didn't realize was that Vordakai was fated to consume him in the process. He wants us to help him cheat fate.”

“Holy crap!” Skot Skevins cried. “I'm going out to get drunk and laid. I'll see you in the morning.” He stormed out of the room.

“Vlad, start the paperwork for the troopers and notify all the towns in the P.U.R.K. If we fail they should . . .” Here he was at a loss for words.

“Pray,” I finished for him. “They can't hide.”

I send this letter with a courier as we leave Tuskland, forgive me for not saying goodbye, and tell your Mother that I love you both,
Uncle Marquand