Look Inside! 

Petrified wood pebbles skittered across the black sand-glass, away from the hooves of the plodding horses. They were as exhausted as the men and women stationed at the northern guard post. They trudged home after their most recent battle to keep the Malvers’ monsters hatched in Shandir’s Crater from leaving the Barrens. Ahead of them, the fortress rose above the stark landscape. Pink tinted the sheadash stone walls in the fading sunlight.

“Almost home, boyos,” Maheli said, her voice muffled by a scarf over her mouth.

“Thank the Goddess.” Rolstrun squinted against the dust kicked up by the horses’ hooves. He glanced at his guard-pack alpha. Sweat plastered her short, curly hair to her head. Gray tinged her normally pale, creamy skin around the wound on her cheek where monster ichor had spattered it. Pain dulled her light green eyes.

“That doesn’t look good, Alpha,” he said. “It’s a good thing we’re close. Faelyn needs to remove the poison.”

She touched the acid burn and hissed. “I may have to give in and have one of the girls cauterize it for me. It’ll teach me to duck faster.”

“Could be you’re growing old and slow.”

“Pfft.” She waved a hand at him. “We’re all getting slow. After fighting every day since the middle of Neydar, and sometimes several times a day, against these new control-janacks, we’re all tired. We need a few days off. A chedan would be wonderful!” She sighed wistfully and hunched lower in her saddle.

The black ironwood gates stood open, waiting for the fighters to return. Bands of helstrim, the same alloy used to create the Reds’ helbraughts, strengthened the wood. The Reds could extend their magic through it and into the gate—if the need should arise—to protect the fortress from attacking Malvers’ monsters. But so far, even with the increased activity, the monsters had steered clear of the edifice. The tired horses picked up their pace, knowing their stables were close at hand.

Rolstrun grabbed the reins of Maheli’s horse when they were abreast of the infirmary. “Go see Faelyn,” he said gently.

Maheli nodded, slowly climbed off her horse, and limped into the infirmary.

Once inside the stables, Rolstrun slid off his horse and shook the black sand from his hair and shoulders. He reached up to rub his eyes and stopped, knowing from experience how painful it would be. Fine particles of glass made the sand. He plodded to a bucket of water by the door and washed the grit from his eyes. Finished, he unsaddled Brishna, led her to her stall, and filled her manger with hay.

“Soon, girl, we’ll be able to get out of this hell-hole and go home.” He slapped her golden-brown shoulder. A coughing fit racked him. Fighting in the clouds of sand irritated his lungs. Still coughing, he poured fresh water into Brishna’s bucket, then hurried to do the same for Maheli’s horse. The horse-master would groom them later.

His feet dragging in the dust, Rolstrun trudged to the pack house and down the winding stairs to his favorite place: the bathing room. He stopped on the threshold, breathing in the steamy air until his cough eased. His pack mates had already scrubbed down and were soaking in the deep redwood tubs. He gazed longingly at the steaming water, but both Faelyn and Maheli would skin his hide if he tracked Barrens’ glass into them. They worked hard to keep the water clean and hot, but the black dust permeating everything made it an uphill battle.

Rolstrun quickly stripped out of his filthy clothes. He walked to the tall tank tub with a big, wide spigot on a pipe extending out the top and a chain hanging next to it. He stood under the spigot and tugged on the chain. A lever lowered, and water swooshed out, like a mini waterfall. He sighed as the water sluiced the black dust from his body. Only after washing thoroughly did he finally make his way to the soaking tubs.

“Ho, Rolstrun, come join us.” Calistrun waved. He ran a hand through his wavy reddish-gold hair he wore long down the middle of his back. His blue-green eyes crinkled with a smile as he tossed his arm around Alestrun’s shoulders, and pulled Myndera, who snuggled against his other side, closer. The handsome man never lacked for lovers.

Alestrun had pale green hair and yellow-green eyes, and he was broader and shorter than Calistrun. Myndera smiled and beckoned for Rolstrun to join them as well. Her long maroon hair hung in curls around her heart-shaped face, and her brown eyes were ringed with yellow.

Beside her lounged Laean. Rolstrun’s breath caught at her beauty. She had an unusual shade of rose hair and amber eyes. She was the right height to fit under his chin. As a fighter, she was all lean muscle, except for her abundant bosom, which swelled above the water. Rolstrun’s belly clenched, and he hurried into the tub, sliding over the top of Laean’s body, kissing her deeply. He had never expected the beauty to fall for him. Moving so he could hold her in his arms, he propped his back against the tub, and after a while, the heat and good company helped him relax.

“Only three more chedans,” Myndera said, “before we can go home. I, for one, will be glad to get out of this black dust. It gets everywhere—and I mean everywhere.”

“Do you think the new control-janack is in the nests at home?” Laean asked.

“Goddess, I hope not.” Alestrun rubbed his upper arm. A few days ago he’d landed wrong as he jumped to avoid a flaying tentacle and had broken it. Faelyn had healed it, but it still bothered him. With as many injuries as the pack suffered recently, Faelyn was hard-pressed to fully heal them all.

“Or if there are, hopefully someone has found a way to kill it besides exploding the damn thing.” Calistrun grimaced. “I’m sick of ducking monster debris.”

Rolstrun grinned and shrugged. “Well, if you ran faster…”

“And risk Myndera? Never!” Calistrun kissed her. “She’s usually the one riding the bucking control-janack to explode it.”

“It keeps getting harder,” Myndera said. “They seem to know what I’m doing. The other monsters are simply mindless hunger, but the control-janacks are intelligent.”

Rolstrun nodded in agreement. He’d sensed the same thing. He thought about his friends back home and smiled. “If these things are at home, I bet Rizelya’s in the thick of it. If anyone could find a better way to kill them, it would be her.”

“Or one of her followers…” Alestrun paused, his forehead wrinkled. “Say, do you remember Eiden? The Yellow Rizelya taught how to fight?”

The others joined Rolstrun in nodding. “Yeah, what of it?”

“I practiced with her once, just to stop Rizelya from nagging me. The girl developed a way to direct cold air and was experimenting with making a cold-air shield. Brilliant, if you think about it. The control-janack, like the regular janacks, senses our body heat. What would happen if it couldn’t?”

“We’d be able to get to the control-janack much quicker and end the fights easier.” Rolstrun frowned. “Too bad we don’t have anyone with enough Yellow Talent.” He turned and looked intently at Laean and her amber eyes.

“What?” Her eyebrows creased, then her eyes widened. “You mean me?”

Rolstrun nodded.

“Sorry, I haven’t tried anything like that before. I’m stronger in Brown Talent than I am in Yellow. Dehali had just agreed to work with me when I was selected for the guard-pack.”

Rolstrun fingered a strand of his own red hair striped with yellow and closed his amber eyes. He rarely lamented the loss of magic. If he were a woman, he’d have plenty of Yellow Talent to do anything he wanted with air magic—like form cold-air shields. But the Posair men had exchanged most of their elemental magic for the gift of shapeshifting.

He concentrated and felt his unused Yellow power stir inside of himself. He let it grow, opened his eyes, and released the energy. A small breath of wind blew across the water, not even strong enough to cause a ripple. He snorted at himself. Little good that will do.

A loud rumble startled everyone. Calistrun stared at his belly and laughed. “Enough soaking. My stomach’s complaining it’s too empty.” It grumbled again.

Laughing, the friends climbed out of the hot water, dressed, and headed upstairs to find dinner.

Later that night, his stomach comfortably full, and his body languid from making love to Laean, Rolstrun let his mind drift. The tutors had instructed the boys in the keep the bare minimum about their Talents. He had sufficient Red to be dangerous with his fire magic, so he’d been taught how to control it. His teachers deemed his Yellow air magic to be so little as to be useless. Once he’d made his first shift to wolf cub at six, he’d never thought about his other magic again. Until now.

There had always been enough women with the various Talents to take care of any tasks requiring magic. The guard-pack made do with what they had, and the few women provided the little luxuries, like the hot water in the bathing room. For most men, their magic manifested as a natural ability in the areas ruled by the Talent. Such as Teledon, who had Green and Yellow Talent and was a great chef. Rolstrun didn’t know any males who actively used their magic besides to shapeshift.

He knew of only one man who did—Blazel. He recalled the wonder he’d felt when he saw fire dancing on Blazel’s palm. Sure, the Reds did it all the time, but it had been the first time he had seen a man tame fire.

Rolstrun rolled onto his back and held out his hand, palm up. Staring at it, he reached for the magic he used to change his shape. This time, he concentrated on accessing his fire magic instead. Warmth seeped into the soles of his feet, and as he inhaled, the heat flowed up his legs, through his belly, and into his arms. His eyes widened in surprise as a tiny spark flickered in the center of his palm. It only lasted a moment before it faded. With his next exhalation, let the magic go. The room reeled, and he closed his eyes against the vertigo.

A quiet excitement in him grew. He’d created a spark!

He turned onto his side and gazed at his lover. Would she teach me to use my Talent? He shook his head at his folly. But when he returned home, he’d seek out Blazel—even if he had to track him down in the Deep Mountains. His eyes drifted closed as his thoughts circled around Blazel. Has he made it to the Sanctuary yet? Will the Supreme send us help?

 Fire streaking from the sky filled Rolstrun’s dreams. The land burned, and rivers of blood flowed, soaking the earth. Blazel’s voice whispered, “The madness comes.”

Rolstrun jerked awake with the blankets stuck to his sweaty body. His heart beat a fast staccato in rhythm to the word “madness” reverberating in his mind like a pealing bell.