“What the hell was that about?!” Leyen demanded, glaring at Myrror.

“Now isn’t really the time to explain. Once we find Daries and make sure that no more assassins are able to enter this tower, then Myrror and I will explain exactly what is going on,” answered Denime as he strode over to the wizard that Myrror had chained.

Seeing him approach, the man struggled violently, trying desperately to reach a thin metal wand that had fallen near him.

“Sleep,” Denime said, his voice causing the air to vibrate with holy power.

The wizard struggled for a moment longer before his eyes closed and he fell into a deep stupor. This taken care of, Denime made his way around to the wizard’s fallen comrades, praying quietly. The bodies flashed bright gold for a split second, then disappeared. Myrror still stood on top of the long table. He frowned slightly, his eyes unfocused. Leyen felt a painful pang as he recalled the very same expression on his brother’s face. He was in a trance that put him into direct contact with his magic. Turning, Leyen’s eyes fell on Faolan. The werewolf sat in the corner of the room farthest from the gory aftermath of the battle. He was rocking back and forth, his tail between his legs, trying to hide the wracking sobs that shook his canine body. Leyen frowned in concern. He walked over to the werewolf and placed his hand comfortingly on his shoulder. Faolan looked back, his eyes frightened and confused.

“Are you alright, my lad?” Leyen asked, thinking as he did that he sounded just like his own father.

“I…..I killed them….and I wanted to…I wanted to see them dead…” stuttered Faolan, his body shaking violently.

“It was either you or them, Faolan. They would have burned you up if you hadn’t defended yourself.”

“No, you don’t understand. I wanted to taste their blood, to rip them to pieces with these claws. Even when we had to defend ourselves on the road, my mother and I never wanted anything to die. We always dipped our arrows in the poison the Elves gave us. It paralyzes its victim, but never kills them. The Elves taught us about the nature of living beings when we lived with them. The Lunai taught me too. They taught me about killing for pleasure, their highest sin. That’s what I felt: pleasure from killing,” Faolan whispered, staring at his blood-soaked claws.

“The Lunai?” asked Leyen, hoping to change the subject. The less Faolan dwelt on this, the better.

“They’re a subrace of Elves. They act as servants for the True Elves, and as full time caretakers of the Dreaming Forest. The True Elves change between night and day. For each Day Elf, there is a Night Elf. Their lives depend upon a single tree. When day comes, the Night Elf becomes that tree, while the Day Elf roams free. Only at dusk and dawn can they ever meet one another. The Lunai are…dog people. They appear Elven, except for the dog tail and ears. They’re very religious, and very strict. The holiest among them receive wolf companions. I was to be awarded such a companion, but I left to travel with my mother before I could complete the necessary rituals,” explained Faolan, his voice full of pride.

The two were so deep in conversation that they did not hear Myrror tell Denime that he was going to search for Daries. Faolan continued to lecture about Elven society until his ears twitched and the werewolf turned toward the door as he stood. Only moments later, Myrror entered the room, followed by a black floating disk that bore Daries unconscious body. The wizard had a nasty scorch mark across his purple robes, and dried blood stuck in trails to the skin underneath his nose. Denime and Leyen rushed over to the floating stretcher while Faolan stood in the corner for a moment, regaining his composure.

“What happened?” asked Denime, his hand already glowing with healing energy.

“They had him guarded by two apprentices. Apparently they didn’t believe that a researcher like him posed much of a threat. When I arrived, he was trying to fend off a summoned centipede while the other apprentice took him from the back. The lightning bolt wasn’t very powerful, but it was enough to knock him out,” explained Myrror as he carefully lowered Daries’ body onto the wooden table.

“And the apprentices?” asked Denime, seemingly innocently.

“I didn’t kill them!” exclaimed Myrror, exasperated, “Gods, I could be some sort of devil the way you think of me. I had my shades take them through the Plane of Shadow to the Wizarding Academy Spire.”

They sat in silence as Denime healed the wizard. Myrror lit a fire using some sort of stick dipped in red clay at one end.

“Flashmatches,” he said simply as Leyen picked one up to examine it.

When at last Daries fell into a healing sleep, the four sat around the fireplace. Leyen and Faolan seated in the cushioned chairs that lined the dining table, Denime and Myrror on the floor, legs tucked neatly underneath their bodies in the Eastern fashion. Leyen coughed softly to remind them why they had gathered in the first place.

“I suppose we owe you an explanation,” said Denime softly, glancing sidelong at Myrror.

“First, who the hell were those people?” asked Leyen once again.

“They call themselves the Ring of Light. They’re a renegade group of wizards and clerics that is dedicated to ‘purifying the world’, meaning that they want to kill anything that they believe opposes them. They’ve been following Myrror ever since they discovered him three years ago. They’re pretty much harmless. Their leader, Gald, is the former Aamagus, that is, the head of the Wizards of Valoran. They make one of these attempts about three or four times a year, but they never do very well. The only reason they even got close this time was because we thought this tower was protected against teleportation magic,” explained Denime.

“Second, what were those rings I saw you hide in the lab before dinner?” asked Leyen.

Denime looked uncomfortably at Myrror, silently begging him to answer. The halfling obliged by reaching into his sleeve and revealing a large silver ring with various symbols delicately carved into its surface.

“I think you know more about these than you care to believe,” said Myrror, “These are the entire reason you two found us. They are reason Denime and I are traveling together. They are halos, Warrior of the Stars.

Leyen gasped, his eyes wide with shock.

“Where did you learn about that name!?” he demanded.

“It was given to your brother to tell you about our quest. The Warrior of the Stars was to learn about the others from the Burning Prophet. Your brother contracted some sort of illness that made his skin burn and his eyes blaze with fire before he died, did he not?” asked Denime.

“Yes….he did…” said Leyen, anger rising from hearing his brother’s affliction stated so calmly, without caring that he was now dead.

“That affliction was given to him by my sponsors. The gods that agreed to represent me in this race,” explained Myrror.

“Race? Sponsors?” asked Faolan, he and Leyen wearing puzzled expressions.

“Start from the beginning, my friend,” said Denime.

“Very well. After years of independent study, I traveled the world in search of greater power. One night, I happened upon an abandoned temple and decided that it would make a fine place to sleep for the night. I placed my bedroll on the altar and fell immediately asleep. In my dreams, the Great Dream Dragon Byrannos approached me. I cannot begin to describe to you what the presence of one of the great gods feels like. I fell to my knees in worship and offered forth my soul to Him. This pleased Him, and He told me that He had come to me on behalf of two spirits that wished for me to do them the great honor of competing for a the greatest prize ever offered to mortals. Twelve groups had been formed already, each with a god to represent them. The gods had wagered against one another that each could create superior mortals. Each god was allowed to create four mortals that would compete in their name. The competition takes the form of a free-for-all battle. The last group standing wins. My sponsors had created me to represent them, while three other pairs of spirits had created three other mortals to compete. Those three mortals are you two and Denime,” explained Myrror, his eyes intense.

“What is the prize?” asked Leyen, with eyes wide.

“Godhood. The Warriors of Light and Shadow are to become gods, while the other two will have immortality.”

“Gods…” whispered Leyen, his face devoid of all expression.

“Who are your sponsors? You said that spirits created us while gods created the rest of the teams. Why?” asked Faolan.

“My sponsors are the Fox spirits, my creators, the only gods that I answer to. The spirits originally were not able to compete, but Hyukul, the God of Justice, the god responsible for setting the rules of the game, agreed to let the spirits create one team in conjunction to compete. The other gods did not question this, believing that the primal spirits, the Soulkeepers, could never best gods. Truly the arrogance of gods knows no bounds,” said Myrror bitterly

“Who are our creators then?” inquired Faolan.

“The Wolf spirits obviously created you,” said Leyen, smiling.

“Obviously,” stated Myrror flatly.

“The Honeybee spirits created me,” said Denime proudly.

“Well what about me?” demanded Leyen, looking from Denime to Myrror to Faolan, his eyes hopeful. Each shrugged in turn.

“Well how did you each figure out yours?” asked Leyen.

“Animals that are inexplicably attracted to you, and that you are attracted to, personality traits, and there is always something physical that resembles the spirit that your soul was created from,” said Faolan.

“I had a pet fox as a child,” said Myrror, his eyes filling with happy memories, “and of course I have these.”

The sorcerer bared his teeth, revealing overly large canines that very closely resembled fangs.

“Bees like me…”said Denime quietly, “and before I became a Celestial, my hair was striped black and blonde. My mother used to call me by my middle name, Beckett. It means bee in old Common.”

“I already told you. The Lunai knew right off that my spirit was a wolf. That’s why we got along so well, and why they even considered granting me a wolf companion,” said Faolan defensively.

All three turned to Leyen, waiting expectantly. Leyen smiled nervously as his mind raced.

“Okay! So I don’t know! I never knew souls came from animals or anything like that!” he snapped at last.

“Where do you think souls come from?” asked Denime in shock.

Leyen shrugged.

“When the world was created, no intelligent races existed. The primal gods; those of fire, water, air, and earth; had only created animals to inhabit it. Chaos, however, quickly grew tired of these creatures that did not fight or battle. The animals only killed for food, and did not take up causes or choose sides in fights. He commissioned the six gods, for there were only six at that time, to create more interesting creatures. The gods were successful in creating a new set of creatures that could please Chaos. First, the gods created the True Elves, filled with air and water to make them agile, thin, and beautiful. Second came the Dwarves, their opposites. The Dwarves were filled with light and fire, to make them sturdy, robust, and steadfast. Third came the Gnomes, who were given only air, making them intelligent but flighty, flexible but eccentric. The fourth race, the orcs, was filled with earth, making them strong but warlike. The fifth race, the Minotaur, was given only earth and fire, which made them strong and powerful. At last, upon the sixth race, the humans, the gods were able to balance to elements. Their work finished, they placed these creatures upon the Earth, watching expectantly. The creatures did not move, or breathe, or speak. They were missing something, a single piece. The gods, in their wisdom, decided that what these creatures needed was a soul. The six gods each created a soul and placed it into their favorite creature. These creatures, at last, lived. For decades the gods enjoyed watching their new creations in the world, until, one day, they ceased to live. Their souls had run out of energy. The souls dissipated into the world, creating a new force. We now call this force Mana. The experiences and influences of these souls generated their own energy. The gods and Chaos watched in horror as this energy tore apart the Earth. Its power was so great that it destroyed nearly every living thing. When at last the destruction ceased, only a few creatures had survived. The gods wept bitterly for the loss of their creations. Chaos, however, smiled. ‘My children,’ he said, ‘think of this not as the end, but as a new beginning.’ The gods took Chaos words to heart and proceeded to redesign the world. They created new animals. However, the gods learned from their previous mistake. Each new breed of animal chose one pair from among their number to become Spirits. These two would be promoted to near-godhood, and would hold their race’s image in case the Mana should ever destroy the world again. This done, the gods created many souls to give their intelligent races life. The gods watched as these new races lived at last. However, there was a problem. Each member of each race was identical to every other member of that race. Each person was identical in personality. Though the primal gods saw no problem with this, Chaos, Ashista, and Valoran believed that they could do better. Ashista and Valoran divided each soul into two parts. One part was to be stored in the Plane of Positive Energy until it was needed. These halves became the good halves of each soul. The other half was stored in the Plane of Negative Energy. These halves became evil. Ashista created a race, now known as Demons, to guard her half of the souls, while Valoran created the Celestials to guard his. In addition, Chaos ordered the Spirits to imprint the image of their race upon each new soul entering the world. Thus, each soul would be unique, and the Spirits became the Soulkeepers,” explained Myrror as the other three listened to the story.

“I had never heard that tale before,” said Leyen.

“Neither have I,” declared Denime

“Nor I,” admitted Faolan, “At least not parts of it.”

“And you are the first mortals to hear those parts,” said Myrror, “The Fox Spirits told me about the creation of the world when I accepted their proposal. They also explained the origin of Mana.”

“Where does it come from,” asked Denime, moving to sit beside Faolan.

“The experiences and influences that each soul has upon the world return to the Planes of Positive and Negative Energy when a person dies. Somehow, these become a type of energy that sweeps through the Planes like an invisible wind. Without it, our souls would fall into shreds, like a jellyfish on dry land. Souls are fragile, and Mana is the water supports them, feeds them, and keeps them from breaking. Mana also helps hold together the elements that make up every living thing, as Daries explained in the laboratory,” explained Myrror.

“Well, are you satisfied now?” Denime asked, raising an eyebrow inquiringly.

“I suppose…” said Leyen. Faolan nodded silently.

“Good. Now that we all know what is where, we can start cleaning up,” said Denime grinning impishly.

“Cleaning…..up….?” asked Leyen, not quite comprehending.

“There’s blood all over, the table is filthy, and, most importantly, we still haven’t had dinner,” replied Denime as he hitched up his robes and rolled up the sleeves of his clerical robes. Myrror rose and began performing the same process.

“You want us to….clean the wizard’s tower?” asked Faolan, still unsure if this was some sort of prank.

“Can’t Myrror just magick it clean?” asked Leyen.

“Nope. I’ve never learned any housekeeping spells, so it’s up to old fashioned manual labor to get this place cleaned up.”

Faolan and Leyen glanced at each other, hoping that the other could explain this strangeness. They shrugged in unison and rose. Leyen started to remove his half-plate armor, groaning as he did so. Denime grabbed Faolan and started to drag him off toward the door.

“First we need to get you into some clothes,” said Denime, his voice lofty and scolding. The cleric paused for a moment, glancing at Myrror.

“Down sixty stairs, second room on the right. Feel free to take anything. The armory isn’t often used since this tower is mainly for research,” answered Myrror as he removed his silky robe. Underneath the halfling wore cotton pants and a tight silken jacket known in the East as a “keikogi”. Myrror shook his robe violently, causing a wooden bucket, a waterskin, and several thick cotton rags to fly out. He grabbed the waterskin and emptied it into the human-sized bucket, then set the bucket near the fire to heat. This done, he snagged a cotton rag began wiping the large wooden table off. Leyen watched, completely paralyzed. This sorcerer, who wielded the power to rend souls from bodies with a mere glance, possessed no spell that could conjure an imp or some other creature to clean for him. What kind of a person is this halfling? asked Leyen silently.

“You can start scrubbing that blood of any time now,” called Myrror’s manic voice from across the room, “After all, some of it is your mess.”

Leyen muttered angrily as he picked up a cloth and threw it into the bucket. Reaching into the water to retrieve it, he recoiled, clutching his hand.

“GODS! THAT’S HOT!!” he screamed.

“Of course it’s hot. If it was cold it wouldn’t kill any of the diseases that could be in that blood,” replied Myrror.

Leyen grumbled and nursed his throbbing hand. As usual, he had no idea what the halfling was talking about.

CHAPTER 11

What Would Werewolves Wear?!

The heavy wooden door opened loudly, creaking in protest as though it detested being used.

“Myrror was right; this place never gets used,” said Denime.

He lifted his magical light higher into the air. The bright white light revealed a large room with various weapons, pieces of armor, and robes hanging on hooks set into the wall. A large wooden scroll case stood in the corner, its contents completely untouched, each compartment still filled. Various chests sat in intervals around the perimeter of the room. Demine spotted two large crystal globes hanging suspended from the ceiling. He waved his hand in front a small rune drawn next to the entrance. The globes instantly shed bright, wavering light into the room. Denime had always detested wizard lights. The light they shed always made him nauseous and gave him headaches. Sighing, he pulled the werewolf into the room.