#qwade

[ohyeahmagi-nation]

"Breakout" The Great Relic Robbery, Part 1 By Phillip Tavel and Edward Bolme Where did Qwade come from? Read Weapons of Darkness, Part 3 How did Qwade get here? Read The Unwanted, Part 5

Bria felt a tremor in the water, a shockwave of impact that resounded beneath the waves. Rising to the surface, she stuck her head above the water to see if she could find out what had happened. There, in the distance, she saw a magical battle taking place on the high arcing bridge that crossed from Naroom to the Spirals. Flames licked across the bridge, and tiny figures, unidentifiable at this distance, dreamed up creatures that fought across the dangerous landmark.

She dived back under the waves and swam vigorously up the freshwater river to see who was fighting. As she drew closer, she heard a faint voice, burbly beneath the water, a timid, high-pitched voice that she hadn’t heard for years and years.

"Ow," it said. "Ow ow ow ow. Ow ow ow ow ow. Somebody make it stop hurting. Now ow ow ow ow."

"Qwade?" she asked herself, at once incredulous and excited. She swam faster, and there, ahead and above, she saw him. The sun silhouetted him on the surface of the water; his long tentacles spread out like an anemone. Bria winced; judging by his spread-eagled stance, it looked like he had belly-flopped into the river.

She moved up to him, tentatively reaching out one hand. She'd had such a crush on him when they were children, all those years ago, yet she was surprised to have all those feelings return at once like a flood of eels. She stroked his jawbone just behind his mask. "Qwade? Is it really you?"

His eyes opened immediately, flaring with inner power. "Of course it is," he said with a deep, powerful voice, utterly different from the thin, tremulous voice she had heard a moment ago. He flexed his arms, rippling his muscles, and clenched his hand into a fist. "I am the real Qwade," he rumbled, "and, at last, I am in control."

He seized Bria around the waist with one tentacle, his muscles as hard as steel, but holding her as gently as a bed of bubbles.

"You've have grown up, my dear," he said. "I like the change."

"Me, too," gushed Bria, her heart pounding. Suddenly she blushed. "That is, I never thought you cared about me," she said.

"That will change," promised Qwade. "Now tell me, Bria, what does your heart desire most of all?" He moved closer, his eyes glowing from behind his iron mask.

* * * * *

"Stolen?!" Barak's thunderous voice echoed as he smashed through the large doors to his throne chamber. Carefully dodging the massive doors as they flew away from Barak's fists, Valkan repeated his message.

"The Scroll of Fire was stolen from our repository. Sir," Valkan added with a slight bow as Barak wheeled on him. Barak trembled with rage, rubbing his brow and breathing heavily.

"VAL--" Barak started with a heave and a shout, but he caught himself, took a deep breath and began again. "Valkan, what do we know for sure?" Valkan retreated a few steps, wary in the face of Barak's fury. Although Barak would never hurt anyone without serious provocation, that never stopped him from being downright intimidating, especially to someone of Valkan's small stature.

"All we know is that someone broke into the repository and took the Scroll of Fire, along with most of the other relics that were not out being used. There is no sign of who did it. The how is easy, they just ripped the door out of the wall. When, is sometime in the past day. Because everyone has been so busy with the problem in the Weave with the Shadow Magi, and keeping track of all the ruckus in Naroom, the repository wasn't being watched properly." Valkan finished his report and stepped back. "What shall we do?"

Barak again rubbed his forehead. "One thing is for certain, and that is that this act can not go unpunished, especially now. In these troubled times, we cannot afford to look weak and disorganized. Valkan, what are we doing to learn who the culprit was?"

"Ven and Raega are trying to see what clues they can..." Valkan trailed off as an approaching noise stole his attention. Ven and Raega came charging in, with Ven holding something in his outstretched arm.

"Have you discovered who has done this?" spat Barak.

"We do not know who exactly, but we know they came from Orothe. We found this piece of karak claw lodged in the wall," Ven reported. "Also, we found traces of water and a few scales that were probably shed when some of the traps fired."

With a low growl, Barak stood up and began pacing his chamber. Raega, Ven and Valkan all looked at each other, wondering what Barak's reaction would be. Violent? Yeah, they were pretty sure of that. Decisive? Of course. As they were exchanging glances, Barak turned to them with an all-too-calm expression on his face.

"If it was Orothe, I think I may know who in particular. A conversation that I had a while back makes me confident that we will find what has been stolen in the Orothean Vault of Knowledge.

"Valkan, prepare for a fight. Get Gar and Magam together. Ven, Raega, I want you along as well. Cald will be thought weak if we don't respond to this outrage. Orothe must answer for this crime, and we will reclaim what is ours," Barak said, glaring at the three Calders.

"Yes sir!" Valkan snapped. He, Ven and Raega turned and left, quickly putting distance between themselves and the warlord behind them. As they reached the end of the corridor and began to part, Valkan spoke to the other two, "Whoever did this, they will soon find out that they chose the wrong region to mess with. I'll see you at the docks."

Ven and Raega nodded soberly as they hurried to make their preparations.

* * * * *

In a forgotten part of the ruins, somewhat near the Orothean Vault of Knowledge, two figures moved in the shadows.

"I can't believe we did it," squealed Bria in childish delight.

"I told you that you could have whatever you want, and that I can make much more happen," Qwade replied in a deep, hypnotic tone. He glided over to her and took her in his arms. She sank willingly into his embrace, enveloped by his tentacles and entranced by his glowing eyes. "You desire the relics of the Moonlands--as you should, for only someone of your power should wield them--and we have taken the first step toward acquiring them all." Qwade looked down into Bria's warm and inviting eyes. He spun her away as if they were dancing, the tip of one of his tentacles wrapping seductively about her slender waist. "If you believe in me, together we can gather all of the power of the Moonlands. You will look so beautiful with them arrayed all about you."

Qwade turned from Bria and slithered slowly away. Under his breath he said to himself, "And once I have what I need, I will guarantee that you get to do whatever you want, my love." His smile filled with malice.

Bria moved up behind him and asked, "Won't the Calders come looking for their relics? And won't the others?"

Qwade looked at her with disdain for the fear that she was showing, but his mask hid it from her. He spoke in a reasonable voice, saying, "Barak was corrupted by his journey through the geyser. Believe me, I know that, for I only narrowly escaped that fate myself. I also know that he was already looking to plunder the Vault of Knowledge. If the Calders dare show their faces here, tell Mobis these things, and he will stop any advances. Meanwhile, we shall move the contents of the Vault somewhere safe."

"Nowhere is safer than the Vault."

"When a corrupted Barak comes knocking, nowhere is safe," said Qwade grimly. "Nowhere… but in your hands, Bria. You alone can keep the Orothean relics safe from the hands of fire."

"Yes, that's perfect," Bria beamed. She flitted away from him, talking to herself about all the treasures that she would one day own. Her eyes roamed lovingly across the strong muscular surfaces of Quade's tentacles. "I'm so glad you're back my love. I always hoped you would return one day and notice me. My world is complete with you here."

Qwade grinned and responded in a silky voice, "Complete? Not yet, my dear, but then, neither is your collection. But soon it will be."

* * * * *

"The Scroll of Fire was stolen?" said a surprised Kolte. "Serves them right, those arrogant hot-heads."

Gia looked at the gathered Magi with a serious expression. "For what they've done to the Weave, they deserve to have their relics plundered!"

"I heard that it was someone from Orothe that did it, and that the Calders are fuming over it," said Scyalla.

Bo'Ahsa paused, pondering an idea. She bounced it around for a moment, thought, and then spoke, "Maybe we should help the Orotheans out a little--you know, give some payback to Cald?"

Gia nodded, obviously pleased with Bo'Ahsa's decisive words. "Indeed, my dear, that seems like an excellent idea."

* * * * *

"Emec! Emec! Where are you?" Ullig shouted. "Come out, come out, wherever you are! Emec! This is urgent for Kybar's sake! I need to speak to you!" She stomped around corners, peering into caves and staring up the cliffs, looking for the old Ringsmith.

"Yes, yes, what is it?" Emec finally replied as he emerged grouchily from a cave.

"We've been robbed!" Ullig blurted.

"What!?" Emec shot back in stunned disbelief. Ullig just stood there, bouncing her head up and down and staring with wide eyes at Emec. He composed himself and tried again. "What do you mean, 'robbed'? What's missing?"

"Just name it," spat Ullig. "I had to go to the storage caves to retrieve my slingshot, and it was gone. Also missing was... well, everything else that was magic!"

Emec was in shock. Nothing like this had ever happened before. However, considering all the trouble that was brewing, what with Cald and Shadow Magi roaming the Weave, the Dark Twins' seizure of Naroom and the Great Library, the Shadow Magi encroaching on the foothills of the Teeth, and the unprecedented struggle between Bograth and Paradwyn, times were certainly volatile.

"Does Targ'n know?" Emec asked.

"He's with most of the others, making sure that we don't get surprised from below by any Shadow Magi. There was talk that some Core Magi were spotted near the crossroads. What should we do?"

Emec thought for a moment, but not much was coming to mind. "We are going to need to find out what happened, and go after those responsible. We can't sit back and do nothing. If the Magi of the Core should attack, we will need those relics for our defense!"

* * * * *

Deep within the northern reaches of the Great Forest of Naroom, Wence and Ebylon awaited word of the fight around Vash Naroom. Ebylon had received a call for help from his friend Wence, and decided that for all the times Wence had been there for him, he had to return the favor.

Wence and Ebylon bristled as they heard something coming toward them through the woods. "What is it?" whispered Wence to Ebylon. Ebylon just shrugged.

The two Magi prepared themselves for whatever might emerge, readied their rings and steadied their nerves. With an explosion of branches, twigs, leaves and dirt, Voda came spilling out of the jungle and tumbled onto the ground in front of Ebylon and Wence. They blinked, looked at each other, raised their eyebrows questioningly and helped the young Magi up off the ground.

"What are you doing here?" asked Ebylon.

Catching his breath, holding his hands on his knees, Voda responded, "Heard… Cald… attacking…." Ebylon and Wence sat Voda down on a log and handed him a flask of water to drink from.

"Thank you," Voda gasped in between huge gulps of water. He settled down and caught his breath. "Ebylon, we have word that Cald is coming to attack us, and we need you to come back and help."

Wence looked at Voda disbelievingly and asked, "Why would Cald be attacking you?" Voda just shrugged. "Mobis doesn’t know either, but he pointed out that Barak did go into the geyser after Tryn. Maybe something happened to Barak while he was in the geyser?" Their expressions sobered as they pondered the evidence.

Wence gripped Ebylon's shoulder. "My friend, thank you for coming to my aid, but it seems like you need to get back and help your own people out now. I will wait for Yaki. We'll meet up again soon."

"I'm sorry I have to depart but thanks for understanding. Good luck, and I will come back as soon as I am able." Ebylon embraced his friend and turned to join Voda in an urgent return to their home beneath the sea.

* * * * *

Flanked by saldarits, a stern group of Calder Magi moved toward Oscent-Mar, looking for the Vault.

"I got a message from Gar," said Valkan. "He said that some relics have been stolen from the Teeth, as well."

"Really?" asked Barak. "Excellent. It's been a very long time since any region has moved against another like we are now. This action will be unpopular, at least at first. But we will show our strength and our resolve, and when we return whatever other relics we find in the hands of the Orotheans to the proper owners, I think we'll find we have a lot more support."

"Get ready, people," said Magam. "Raega's signaling. We're there."

---

What happens next? Read Part 2 "Break-in"

[namradio]

TopDeck, ManCub & Qwade Dunn - The one new song by TopDeck, ManCub & Qwade Dunn - The one

[kauzum]

The boy qwag

[ohyeahmagi-nation]

"Brushfires" The Unwanted, Part 5 by Edward Bolme Read Part 4, "Blazing Trails"

"Run!" yelled Ashio, and for once, the Shadow Magi acted in unison, not a one of them quibbling about who was in charge. Such cooperation is not uncommon when one sees a cluster of crackling fireballs descending like a swarm of gigantic angry ember vards.

Qwade, his five legs moving like a blur, sped past the other Shadow Magi, muttering, "Please get them and not me, please get them and not me!" Unfortunately, he did not anticipate that Grega's first move would be to launch a fireball directly at the midspan of the bridge to keep the Shadow Magi from getting away. Qwade reached the apex of the arc just as the fireball struck, and the explosion sent him over the edge, smoke trailing behind him like a comet. His plaintive cry of "Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow!" dopplered away, as his former companions watched, shrugged their shoulders, and then continued the fight.

Harror set up a crosswind in an attempt to divert some of the blazing balls of magical energy while the group crossed over to the Weave side. As she passed the center point, Chur punched the bridge with her impressive fists, cracking the stonework in hopes of causing the Cald Magi to hesitate to cross. Between the incoming fire, the new high wind, the lack of allies, and the bridge shaking beneath his feet, Lanyx eventually gave up on Grega and fled, as well.

As the Shadow Magi reached the far end of the bridge, Korremar spun a spell of invisibility to cover them, combined with the illusion of a set of Shadow Magi that ran down the spiraling ramp to the floor of the Weave below them.

"We have a few moments before the Calders evaporate that spell with their fire," he said to Ashio. "You'd better work your magic quickly."

Ashio reached out to the Weave, becoming one with it as he had been taught so long ago. He felt the consciousness of the Weave draw back from his cold soul, but he forced it to obey. Trembling, the great blades of grass weaved together to form a ramping matted roadway.

Ashio chuckled. "Follow me," he said. He led the relieved group of refugees down the path. The grass road unraveled behind him as soon as the group had passed, although Ashio's very footsteps left oval spots of dying brown on the grass wherever he trod.

He reached into the Weave to find the Hole, that darkest part of the Weave that lurked like a bad dream in the very bottom of the great grass ocean's collective mind. And once he found it, he led the others ever downward, deeper and deeper into the Weave.

****

Zaya stood on a platform of woven grass in the heart of the Weave, reaching out with her mind. Even as she stood there, the mat she'd woven trembled beneath her feet. Something is wrong, she thought. Something is not right within the Weave.

The feeling that something was not right made her irritable. Heck, it made everyone irritable. It was like a thunderhead hanging in the sky, waiting to burst, a tension waiting to find expression. But as hard as she searched, she couldn't find a source anywhere in the Weave.

Something was just wrong. I hope it's not me, she thought. She'd heard rumors, some of them at least. She knew other rumors circulated around her, avoiding the Elder's ears. Thank goodness she had advisors she could trust.

"Zaya!"

The Weave elder looked around for the source of the voice. There, above her, she saw Quirle running toward her, the Weave grasses meshing as he approached, giving his feet a place to run, then unmeshing as soon as he'd passed.

"Zaya," he said, panting, "there's a fire team from Cald trying to enter the Weave. They say they're on a lanyx hunt, but they've already burned some of the grass, and they seem pretty angry. What should we do?"

"Not to worry," said Zaya. "Calm heads always prevail, even in Cald. Let's talk to them, find out what in the world a lanyx is, and maybe we can help them find one." Zaya rubbed her forehead and reached out with her soul. The Calders weren't the problem, no, but she could feel them pressing against the Weave, and the added pressure bothered her.

"Go find Gia," Zaya said, "she's had more experience with outsiders than almost anyone else. She'll know how to handle these Magi. Off with you!" She shooed Quirle away, but he was already running toward Gia's hut, the Weave grasses helping to propel him at amazing speeds.

****

A fist hammered hard on the door of Gia's modest dwelling, eliciting a shriek from inside.

"Uh... who is it?"

"It's me, Quirle," said the panting Weave Magi. "I-- I have important news!"

"Hang on just a moment," came the hoarse reply. "I just popped another dang button off my skirt!"

Quirle tapped his foot impatiently, then began pacing back and forth across Gia's doorstep. At last the door opened. Quirle reflexively drew back.

"Yes?" asked Gia, peering around the side of the door. She pulled a strand of lank gray hair from her face.

"Uh, Gia, Zaya sent me to get your advice. There's a Cald fire team moving in the Weave. They've already blasted and burnt a bunch of stuff near the Spiral Bridge."

"Oooh," said Gia. Excitement and concern played across her face. "What are they after?"

"Well, Grega was shouting something about a lanyx, whatever that is."

"Laynx?" asked Gia, her baggy eyes widening. "That's a who, not a what, um..." She gestured helplessly.

"Quirle, ma'am."

"Right," she said with a smile. "All you young'uns, I just can't keep you all straight. You gather together... uh, what's her name... Bo'Ahsa and some other Magi and stop these hotheads. I don’t want them burning any more of my region. You do whatever it takes."

"But Gia," protested Quirle, "shouldn't I get Zaya's approval?"

"Don’t be a troublemaker," Gia snapped. "She is an old weakling. Why else does she send you to get advice for her? She wants to take credit for my wisdom, yet her incompetence has left us no time to waste. We must act now, if we are to save the Weave. No mercy, no more of Zaya's passive resistance. Understand?"

Quirle was taken aback by this outburst. "Um... are you going to help us then?"

"I have a hunch I might know where Lanyx is going, and that means he has Ashio with him. Probably some others, too. I'm going to find out if I'm right. I'll take Yerthe and a few others, and drop them off at the Rippling Ridge to lay an ambush."

Quirle hesitated.

"GO!" yelled Gia, and the Weave Magi turned and ran off to do her bidding.

* * * * *

"There are Magi in the shadows," said Valkan, "and shadows in the Magi!"

His companions rolled their eyes. Ever since they had entered the Weave, the going had been abysmal. They'd been walking at the very bottom of the Weave, which was not much more than a morass of very soft, very fertile ground interspersed with half-buried bulbs that supported the massive stalks of grass that made up the living ocean. Every step they took, they sank into the soft earth past their ankles, and the sploshing and sucking sounds their footsteps made meant stealth was impossible.

"We'd be better served by a boat," grumbled Grega, as she looked upward. The grass stalks rose high over their heads, all glowing with soft reflected light. While she could still see a good amount of the blue sky, she knew that deeper in the Weave, they'd be swallowed up by blades of grass and soft green light. "How far in are we, anyway?"

Vorga, at the tail end of the group, glanced backwards. "Not nearly so far as I'd hoped," she said. "I can still see the base of the bridge."

Everyone groaned.

Suddenly the grass around them erupted into motion. Yajo opened their eyes on every side. Osatches and speags erupted from the growth all about. A flock of tweaves burst forth, shrieking shrilly. The grass fronds themselves weaved into a wall of green in front of them.

"Hey!" yelled Valkan. "Cut it out! We're hunting Shadow Magi here!"

"Leave this place!" yelled a voice from the tall grass. "Gia said you would not be tolerated here!"

"We demand to see Zaya!" Grega called out, as she summoned a magma hyren. "We're on a mission for the betterment of the whole Moonlands! We're trying to help!"

"Trying to help? By burning our grass?" mocked the hidden voice. "You only want to see Zaya because you think you can intimidate her! She's doesn't have the spine to stand up to you, but Gia does!"

And with that, the battle began in earnest.

---

What happens next? Read Part 6 "Weave Got a Secret" What happens to Qwade? Read The Great Relic Robbery,   Part 1

[ohyeahmagi-nation]

"Blazing Trails" The Unwanted, Part 4 by Edward Bolme Read Part 3, "A Hole Lot"

"Are we there yet?" groaned Qwade.

The other Magi all clapped their hands to their foreheads.

"Almost," said Ashio with a wearied tone.

"That's what you said last time," groaned Qwade.

"That's because you only asked me thirty seconds ago!" yelled Ashio in return.

"Oh," said Qwade, and for a short while, the group proceeded along in blessed silence. No five-fingered Magi slinging doom. No Naroomese jumping out of the grass and summoning carillions. No torch-carrying mobs hunting them down. No Lanyx hitting them to show he was in charge. No troubles, not even any bickering, because they were too tired. Just blessed--

"Are we there yet?"

****

The renegade Shadow Magi--Ashio, Lanyx, Harror, Chur, Qwade, and Korremar—at last stood at the edge of Naroom at the borders of the Weave. They stood atop a tall cliff that dropped precipitously into a wide river, and stared at the great bridge that crossed the gap and linked the two regions; it was a long, stone bridge, smoothly sculpted into a pleasing, organic shape. From the top of the cliff on the Naroom side of the river it arced across to an immensely tall tower on the Weave side, then the pathway spiraled a few times around down the tower. From there it arced to another tower, once more spun a few circuits, and then to another tower, and so on, all the way down to the floor of the Weave.

"Do you think it's safe?" asked Qwade. "I don’t think I could handle getting hurt again."

"Well," said Harror, "for us, it's no more dangerous than any other place in the Moonlands."

"I was afraid you'd say that," said Qwade, his voice trembling.

"Let's go," said Ashio.

"Forward, people," said Lanyx. "Ashio, you're in front."

With grumbling and bickering, the six Shadow Magi moved forward. Even Ashio moved tentatively across the high, thin bridge.

Lingering, hesitant to cross such a tall structure, especially when the guard rails were crumbling and unreliable, Qwade paused and turned, taking one last look at the rest of the Moonlands. "Well, I suppose an ocean of grass is better than no ocean at all," he grumbled, but then, just as he was turning to follow the others, he stopped himself short. "Hey, folks, what's that over there?"

The others moved back to stand next to him. Something was moving in the distance, exiting the forest of Naroom and moving south, towards Paradwyn or maybe Bograth or the Teeth.

"Is it a twee?" asked Harror. "I hate twees."

"No," grunted Korremar. "It's red."

"Maybe it's a twee on fire," said Harror eagerly.

"On fire? You guys deal with it," said Qwade tremulously.

"I hope so," said Ashio.

"Hey!" said Lanyx happily. "It's Grega!"

"Grega?" asked Chur. "Isn't she the one who--"

"After all this time she finally knows where she belongs!" said Lanyx loudly. "She's returned to her place at my side!"

"Hey," said Chur sternly. "Isn’t she the one who blasted you with her ring when--"

"Huh?" asked Lanyx. Then he waved a hand dismissively at Chur. "For a while she was intimidated by my willingness to live free and defy the traditions that bind us. I knew she'd come to her senses, once she realized that there are advantages to being so close to one who is above the law!" He stepped away from the other Shadow Magi.

"Blasted him when he what?" murmured Ashio, leaning closer to Chur.

"When he proposed," she whispered.

"Oh dear," said Harror.

"I'm going to leave now, okay?" said Qwade, but in truth, he was too scared to move.

"HARK!" bellowed Lanyx, cupping his hands around his mouth. "I am here, my love! Come, return to my side as I journey to Cald and BURN THE PLACE TO THE GROUND for being a stumbling block to my glory!" And so saying, he sent a vast geyser of flame skyward, a gout of red and oily black, a flame as impure as the Calder spells were bright.

He succeeded in part of his ambition. He did get Grega's attention. Grega did begin coming to him. But she didn’t look terribly pleased to find Lanyx. Nor did the half-dozen fire Magi with her.

Then again, the five Shadow Magi behind Lanyx didn’t look pleased, either.

****

"What in the world is that?" asked Valkan, as a veritable sheet of greasy black-tinged flame erupted from the midpoint of the bridge to the Weave.

Grega clenched her fist and narrowed her eyes. "There's only one Magi who can make fire like that," she growled.

"Lanyx?" said Valkan, recognizing the seething disgust in Grega's voice. "Then why is he waving at us?"

"He still thinks I want to marry him," she said through clenched teeth.

"You don't… right?" said Valkan. In the blink of an eye, he was lying on his back in the grass, and his nose hurt an awful awful lot. "I'll take that as a 'no,'" he said.

Gar casually stepped between the two Magi to prevent any further fisticuffs. "Regardless, we can't let them escape. I don't know how they got out of the Shadow Geysers, but we can't let them remain at large in the Moonlands. Who knows what vile tricks they'll perpetrate? We have to go after them."

"I agree," said Valkan from the ground. "Grega? Are you sure you're up to it?"

"That… that thing over there insults me, my family, and my whole region, by his very existence," said Grega as Valkan regained his feet. "I will make him pay for his insolence. Let's get them. But leave Lanyx to me."

"No problem," chorused the other Magi.

---

What happens next? Read Part 5 "Brushfires"

[ohyeahmagi-nation]

"A Hole Lot" The Unwanted, Part 3 by Edward Bolme Read Part 2 "Exile"

Harror stepped out of the magical gateway and onto the surface of the Moonlands, shielding her eyes from the bright glare of the cheerful summer sun. She hissed involuntarily.

"It is bright out here, isn't it?" said a familiar, hollow voice as a shadow stepped closer.

"Korremar!" gasped Harror. "How -- whe-- what are you doing here?"

"I waited," he said enigmatically. "I knew you'd come."

"Well, thanks for the vote of confidence," said Harror sarcastically.

"He's not going to hurt us, too, is he?" asked Qwade tentatively, peering out at Korremar's imposing frame.

"Get out here, squidboy," Harror growled at Qwade, who stood just inside the gateway whimpering. "You're blocking the way for the others."

He reached out with one trembling hand and pulled it quickly back as if he'd been burned. "But it's all dry out there and stuff," he whined.

"Shh," said Harror suddenly. "Are those Warrada's footsteps I hear coming?"

In an instant, the other four Shadow Magi had exited the magical gateway and sealed it behind them. It faded with a twinkling of animite and a loud, hollow pop!

Ashio giggled.

"What?" Harror asked Ashio, eyeing him suspiciously. "What's so funny?"

The Weave Shadow Magi leaned close to Harror and whispered in her ear. A bemused expression crossed her face as she fought the impulse to laugh.

The rest of the Shadow Magi brushed themselves off and took a look at their surroundings. They stood on the edge of a cliff. Looking down, they saw bank of a great river far below them, flowing north to the sea. Across the river the thick green grass of the Weave swayed in the gentle breeze. Behind them rose the great forest of Naroom. To the south, they could see a hint of the jungles of Paradwyn, and farther yet, Kybar's Teeth scraped the sky with its jagged pinnacles.

"Well, then," said Chur. "Where to?

"Cald," said Lanyx immediately.

"Arderial."

"The Sands."

"The sea," said Qwade plaintively, wistfully looking north.

Chur snorted. "Look at us: we're not wanted. We've been exiled from the Core. None of us is welcome in our homelands. I say we try to find what allies we can and join up with Korg and Zet."

"No," chorused five firm voices together.

"Oookay," conceded Chur. "Bad idea. It's easy to forget how very little you miss Korg until he's with you again. But that leaves us without a place to go, or a place to hide, or--"

"There's one," said Ashio, still trying to wipe the smile from his face. "The Weave."

For a moment, all was quiet. Then Chur spoke up again, saying, " Oookay, we have no place to go, no place to hide--"

"I'm serious," said Ashio.

"So's my hunger," said Qwade. "Anybody got a--"

"I've got a knuckle sandwich if you don’t shut up," interrupted Harror. "Why do you think we can hide in the Weave, Ashio? Won't it eject us?"

"I'm still a part of the Weave," he said, "a part of the whole. But I've been trying to make the hole a part of the Weave."

"That didn't clear anything up," said Harror pointedly.

"There is a hole at the bottom of the Weave. I found it the day I decided to fight against the Weave. So while the Weave wanted me to be a part of the whole, this hole became a part of me. It gave me my powers.

"I crawled deep down the hole that day, exploring it, but it went on for quite a ways. I think it may be a back door to the Core. We could sneak back in and catch the twins when they're unprepared."

"I don’t think I'm ready for that," said Qwade.

"Unless Lanyx goes first," chuckled Harror knowingly.

"Regardless," said Chur authoritatively, holding her hands out to either side to stop all further bickering, "it sounds like a good place to hide. A good base from which to work. I mean, none of us knew about it, and no one in the Weave knew about it until Ashio discovered it, so I'd say it's the best place for us to hole up right now. No pun intended."

"Indeed," said Lanyx. "You can get us there?" he asked Ashio.

"Of course. I'll Weave the grass around us as we move. No one will even know we're there."

"Good. At this point, secrecy is important," said Lanyx, trying to reassert control.

"Follow me," said Ashio.

Not wanting to be a follower, Lanyx immediately replied with, "Lead on, grasswalker."

"Sure thing," said Ashio. "Follow me."

"Go!" barked Lanyx. "I command you!"

In the end, Chur and Harror pushed the two arguing Shadow Magi forward just to get moving.

---

To be continued….

What's Ashio's Story? Read Weapons of Darkness, Part 2 What happens next? Read Part 4 "Blazing Trails"

[ohyeahmagi-nation]

"Exile" The Unwanted, Part 2 by Edward Bolme How did the Shadow Magi gather? Read The Unwanted, Part 1 What else has been going on? Read The Book of Ages, Issue 3

When Lanyx, Ashio, and Qwade arrived in the courtyard near the throne room, they found both Harror and Chur waiting for them.

"Good to see you all," said Harror.

"Or as Marella would say, 'Harror you doing?'" said Ashio.

The other four Shadow Magi looked at him blankly.

"Okay," said Ashio sheepishly. "I guess you had to be there."

"And Chur?" asked Qwade. "Are you well?"

"Sharp as flint," answered Chur, "and tough as a brick."

Ashio laughed out loud, unable to stifle his glee.

"What?!?" bellowed Lanyx and Chur simultaneously.

"Oh, nothing," said Ashio, biting his fist to try to stop laughing. "Nothing at all. Really."

"Quiet, all of you," said Harror authoritatively. "The winds have changed. First of all, Agram is nowhere to be found. When he was defeated, I felt this sudden tugging of the air. It's hard to explain to non-Arderians, but it was this abrupt shift of the air, like some of the atmosphere suddenly ceased to exist. I think that maybe the space around Agram reformed to pocket him away somewhere, leaving nothing in its place. Regardless, we can't reach him at the moment. Maybe we'll never be able to. That leaves the question of who will rule."

"That's an easy one," said Lanyx.

Harror ignored him and continued. "I was in the throne room when Zet claimed it for himself. I dodged outside, looking for support, although frankly, I wasn't entirely sure whether I was in favor of his move or against it. By the time I got back, the Dark Twins had squared off against Korg and Zet. It was ugly; I just stayed low, so they'd take it out on each other. In the end, Warrada blew Zet down the hall. They fled, leaving Hrada on the throne."

"Drove Zet away?" said Ashio incredulously. "Woah, that lady's been hiding her strength."

"Morag?" asked Qwade.

"He did not take a side in that battle," said Harror. "I'm not sure where he stands. Er, floats."

"And Nagsis?" asked Qwade.

"No idea," admitted Harror. "No one has seen him. He may be trapped with Agram, but I think that's a stretch. More likely he fled like the big coward he is, and won't come out until things have stabilized. Then he'll toady up to whomever is on the throne, just like before."

"Well, that seems fairly straightforward," said Lanyx. "All those arrogant 'pure ones' have been ushered out. Serves them right for trying to lord their 'purity' over us Shadow Magi. That leaves me on the throne to blaze the trail to glory and vengeance, though not necessarily in that order."

"I think that Hrada may have a different opinion about the throne, Lanyx," observed Chur wryly.

Lanyx waved his hand dismissively. "He knows who deserves to rule," said Lanyx. I just have to give him a graceful exit. I'll thank him for disposing of the pretenders and stewarding my throne, and reward him for his faithful service. Easy enough. Let's go."

Lanyx strode arrogantly for the throne room, the other Shadow Magi following uncertainly behind. As he entered the throne room, Lanyx saw Hrada sitting on the throne, running his hands across the polished armrests and whistling appreciatively. Warrada stood behind the throne, draping her arms across it and resting her chin on its carved back. Morag hovered thoughtfully to one side; it was apparent that the arrival of the band of Shadow Magi had interrupted a discussion of some sort.

"Well, then," proclaimed Lanyx, full of bluster and authority, "I see that everything is in order. Thank you, my good Hrada, for securing the throne and holding it in stewardship for my arrival. Everyone! A round of applause for our comrade!" Behind Lanyx, the others began a rather desultory clapping. "You may step down now, Hrada, and be certain that I shall reward you appropriately for your meritorious service to me."

Hrada placed his hands on the armrests to push himself up, but Warrada smoothly placed her hands on her brother's shoulders and held him in the seat. "Why, Lanyx, dear, I thought you had come to swear fealty to the new ruler of the Core. And yet you seek to unseat him? Dear me, that's not terribly polite. But I'm sure if you apologize, we can overlook your little mistake."

"Have Hrada upon the throne of the Core?" bellowed Lanyx. "Impossible!"

Warrada giggled menacingly. "You always said you didn't know the meaning of the word 'impossible,' dear Lanyx, and, since my brother is indeed on the throne, and will stay there, you have just proven your own silly claim."

"If you do not step down from my throne," snarled Lanyx through clenched teeth, "I will take it from you, and your reward will be fire instead of power!"

Hrada made an effort to rise again, but was held firmly in place.

"Impossible," mocked Warrada. "Tell me, emperor Lanyx, will any of your followers fight for your right to rule?"

"Not likely," said Qwade, scooting for the door.

"Come back here, Qwade," said Harror, following. She made a show of trying to stop Qwade, but was strangely unable to succeed.

"Of course they'll fight for me," roared Lanyx, not so much to intimidate the Dark Twins, but more to browbeat the two remaining Shadow Magi into staying.

Ashio backed up slowly, watching Chur. Chur stood her ground, then, thinking better of it, stood her ground rather behind Lanyx, so that he would take the brunt of whatever the Dark Twins threw at them. Seeing this, Ashio sidled toward the door. Then Chur, seeing that she would be fighting alone once Lanyx fell, made for the exit, too.

Lanyx looked at the Dark Twins, then at Morag, then at the otherwise empty throne room.

He raised one finger. "Hang on for a moment," he said.

"Take all the time you need," purred Warrada. "We're not leaving."

Lanyx stepped through the doorway to fume at the other Shadow Magi, who had all taken care to get out of direct line of sight of the throne. "What is wrong with you cowards?" he hissed.

"Nothing at all," said Harror reasonably. "At the moment, we're all rather quite healthy."

"I'm not," whined Qwade.

"Are we going to let those arrogant Naroom clowns take my throne?"

Silence.

"We are five to their two," hissed Lanyx. "Five to three if Morag fights for them, which I doubt he will. We can easily destroy them."

"Yeah, probably, we could," said Harror, looking at the other three.

"Then let's destroy them!"

Silence again met Lanyx's words.

"Right. We're agreed," said Lanyx confidently. "Let's go."

"You go first," said Ashio.

"Yeah," added Qwade. "You think I'm always saying 'me first,' well now I'm saying 'you first.' So you first!"

"Fine, you cowards!" snarled Lanyx. "Follow me!" He strode into the throne room, bellowing a challenge. "Hrada! Prepare to meet--"

There was a sudden massive blast of energy flaring past the door frame, and Lanyx flew back out of the throne room past the other four Shadow Magi, bouncing several times down the hallway to land in a heap against the wall. His head fell to the floor with a klok! sound.

Ashio couldn't control it any longer; he started to laugh uproariously, helplessly holding his sides as he sank to the floor.

The other Shadow Magi stared at Lanyx, then at Ashio, then back at Lanyx.

"You heard what he said," said Chur over Ashio's laughter. "Follow him!"

"Okay," said Qwade, and rapidly retreated down the hall, away from the throne room. "Here I am, boss," he said to the unconscious Lanyx. "I'll just go this way, okay?" And he moved on out of sight.

Harror and Chur stared at each other across the hall for a while, each trying to will the other to go into the throne room first. Neither did.

"Oh, well," said Chur at last. "I wasn't going to get the throne, anyway."

Harror nodded, and they went down the hall, passed Lanyx, and followed Qwade.

Ashio brought up the rear, laughing so hard he had to crawl down the hallway. He paused when he got to Lanyx, he paused, raised Lanyx's head about an inch off the floor, and let it drop. Klok!

The jolt brought Lanyx to a groggy consciousness. "Whaaaaat?" he blearily asked as he saw Ashio looming over him, laughing. Ashio declined to comment but began to follow the other three.

And so the last two Shadow Magi crawled away, one laughing and one groaning.

---

What happens to Korg and Zet? Read King Korg, Part 1 What happens to the Dark Twins? Read The Battle of Naroom, Part 1 What happens next? Read Part 3 "A Hole Lot"

[ohyeahmagi-nation]

"Shards" The Unwanted, Part 1 by Edward Bolme This details some of the events summarized in "The Scattering of Shadows"

Silence rang in the Core. Where once there had been a comforting cacophony of corruption, where once there had been a grotesque set of shadow geysers spewing their filth forth into the Moonlands, now there was nothing. Somehow that dweeby little blond kid with the stupid-looking baggy clothes had bested them all, leaving a swath of groaning Magi and corrupted animite in his wake as he’d stalked the shadowy corridors. Then he had destroyed the last shadow geyser, thwarting Agram’s plan forever and leaving the Magi of the Core without a leader.

The impact of such momentous events was almost incomprehensible. The Core rippled with the aftershocks, shifting and twisting, making the bramble-ridden caverns, once so secure and protected, a dangerous and mysterious place to be. The very geometry of the Core was changing to accommodate all that had happened. For quite a while, it was dangerous to move about, for one never knew when a passage would change direction, or location, or even—and this worried the survivors the most—cease to exist.

Huddled in a dark corner of the ruins of a great fortress, two Shadow Magi spoke quietly together.

"I… I think things are safe now," said Ashio. "Probably." He reached out and patted the ground, as if to comfort himself with this decision. Certainly it had been several hours since the last, small ripple had run its way across their cavern.

"Good," grumbled Lanyx, rubbing an egg-sized knot on the top of his head. The ripple had remade a portion of the castle wall, loosing a brick in the process, and it had ended up bouncing high off his scalp. The impact had made a very curious sound, and it had been all Ashio could do not to chuckle aloud at it. Laughing at Lanyx was a bad idea.

"Good," said Lanyx again, somewhat more boldly. He rose to his feet and added, "It’s time we made the Moonlands pay for what they’ve done!"

"I agree," said Ashio carefully, "but first, why don’t we try to weave ourselves together again? Our forces will be the stronger if we are united. And then our vengeance will be all the more bitter for those above."

"Find the others?" growled Lanyx. "Fine." He stalked away, fists clenching and unclenching as he went.

As Ashio got to his feet, he heard Lanyx yelling into the darkness all around. "Hey! Get on your feet, weaklings! We got a war to fight! Hey! Can anyone hear me? Hey!"

Lanyx’s calls grew fainter as the former Calder’s brisk stride carried him away. Ashio snuck one last glance in Lanyx’s direction, then dreamed up a caricature of Lanyx’s head. With a smirk, he picked up the fallen brick and dropped it on the dream image.

It was, truly, a cheerful sound to Ashio’s ears.

Ashio followed after Lanyx, a big smile on his face. "Klok!" he said softly to himself, and chuckled again.

****

In an oily, inky lake situated in an oppressive, mildewed grotto, Qwade groaned loudly. His voice reverberated strongly across the waters and reflected off the grotto’s ceiling, magnifying his unhappiness. This was as it should be, for Qwade wanted the whole Moonlands to know of his misery, since he was unmistakably the most important person to be found anywhere.

Clearly it would take a lot more work to get everyone else to admit to his importance. A lot more work, a lot more beatings, a lot more crushing of dreams. But eventually everyone would cater to him.

If only that were now, he thought, I wouldn’t have to try to heal myself of the thrashing that stupid five-fingered freak gave me. Grunting with the effort, Qwade reached under the water, plucked a few more strands of fat grotto yajo, and slapped them unceremoniously over his forehead and eyes. The coolness felt good, as did the strange toxins that leaked out from the leaves and into his corrupted (and bruised) flesh.

He groaned again, even louder than before, and the grotto rang with his misery. The only other sound to be heard was the steady drip-drip of water falling from the stalagmites above.

Or was it?

Rather than lifting his head to hear better, Qwade chose to lie perfectly still. He even suspended his self-absorbed moaning for a moment. He listened intently.

Drop. Drip. Crunch. Drip. Crunch. Crunch. Drip.

The sound of footsteps drew closer. Excellent, thought Qwade. Someone is coming to attend to me and my injuries. It’s about time.

He waited until the approaching footsteps drew to a stop at the shores of the grotto. "It’s about time," he said loudly. "Make me better!"

By way of reply, Lanyx shouted, "I thought I recognized your cry-baby voice, Qwade! Now get up! I’ll burn your rubbery hide off your bones if you don’t shake a leg—"

"Or five," inserted Ashio.

"—and get your carcass over here! We’re rounding up the troops to go strike back!"

Driven only by the desire to avoid the additional pain of Lanyx’s fireballs, Qwade rolled himself over and pushed himself upright. His neck felt weak, and his brain dizzy. He swayed from side to side for a few moments. Then he lowered his face into the black water, blew bubbles for a bit, then straightened back up.

He stared vacantly at Ashio and Lanyx for a bit. The water droplets dripping from his face added their small sounds to the other drips landing elsewhere in the grotto.

"C’mon, cawh-bait," growled Lanyx.

"Okay," said Qwade weakly. "I think I’m ready. But one day I shall make you rue your disrespect for me; by the deeps I will!"

"You don’t frighten me, small fry," boasted Lanyx. "Nothing can hurt me!"

Somewhere in the cavern, a particularly large drop hit the water. Plok!

Ashio abruptly snorted and tried to stifle his giggles.

"What?!?" bellowed Lanyx.

"Oh, nothing," said Ashio with a smirk, as Qwade crawled out of the waters to join them.

Lanyx left the grotto, Qwade moving sullenly after him. But Ashio remained behind for a few moments, listening gleefully to the sound of the drops hitting the water.

****

The three Shadow Magi continued to explore the restructured Core. Before long, a dark ayebaw passed overhead, circled them twice, then sped off in the direction from which it came.

"We should follow it," said Ashio. "I bet it’s one of Harror’s scouts."

"Good idea," said Lanyx firmly.

"Carry me," whined Qwade.

"Bad idea," said Lanyx, even more firmly.

The three followed the path that the ayebaw had taken, but after a few minutes, came upon a small nexus, a room carved out of the core from which several different passages exited.

"Hey, I recognize this," said Qwade. He pointed to one of the passages. "If we head up that way, we should reach the throne room."

"That was true before," observed Lanyx, "but it may not be true now. Things have changed down here."

"True enough," said Ashio. "I used to be able to sense how the whole Core was put together, but now it’s all a tangle in my mind. If we wait here, Harror or one of her creatures will probably show up presently."

"You’re assuming she wants us to school up with her," said Qwade.

"What?!?" protested Lanyx. "What do you mean? Who wouldn’t desire my glorious presence?"

"Who indeed?" muttered Qwade quietly, rolling his eyes.

"I am inspirational!" continued Lanyx, as if he hadn’t heard. Which, in fact, he hadn’t, which was a very good thing for Qwade. "I am powerful! I will ignite the Core’s counterstrike! Why would anyone not want me to lead?"

Lanyx glared at the other two Shadow Magi, daring them to answer.

"Maybe she wants to lead," observed Ashio.

"What?!?" bellowed Lanyx. "I am clearly the better choice!"

"Yes," mumbled Qwade, "you’re so even-keeled."

"And subtle," added Ashio. But before Lanyx could force another word past his sputtering lips, Ashio pointed up one passage and said, "Look, here comes the dark ayebaw again."

"That’s the tunnel I said we should take," complained Qwade.

"Indeed," said Lanyx. "Perhaps the throne room and its environs were protected against whatever chaos restructured the rest of the Core."

The dark ayebaw glided into the room. It looked at the three Shadow Magi for a moment, then abruptly changed into a scroll with a loud klop!

Ashio stifled a laugh, holding both his hands to his face.

"What?!?" bellowed Lanyx.

"Oh, nothing," said Ashio with a smirk, as Qwade picked up the scroll and unfurled it.

"It’s from Harror," he said. "She’s near the throne room. She says people are gathering there, and urges us to hurry. Sheesh," he added, crumpling up the parchment, "Doesn’t she care that I ache all over?"

"No, and neither do I," growled Lanyx as he started trotting up the passage.

"You’ll pay for your insolence," said Qwade, in a voice too filled with moaning to be truly threatening. "I swear you will!"

"Shut up, small fry!" came Lanyx’s response.

Qwade tossed the scroll aside and shuffled rapidly after Lanyx.

Ashio stooped, picked up the scroll, and tapped its heavy wooden dowel against the rock. It made a sound that, for some reason, he rather fancied, and he followed the two other Shadow Magi, whacking the dowel against the stone walls and giggling to himself.

To be continued…..

Read Part 2 "Exile"

[ohyeahmagi-nation]

"In Over Your Head" Unwanted, Part 8 By Michael Liesik Read Part 7 "Down Time"

As night fell over the deserts of d’Resh and the temperature dropped to near freezing, the only sounds heard were those of complaining Shadow Magi.

"I thought you said it was hot in d’Resh," Lanyx said between chattering teeth. "I hate the cold. When I finally take my rightful place as Warlord of Cald, I’m going to soak in the hot springs of Aragonar for a week. Harror, I command you to start a fire for me!"

"Enough! All you’ve talked about since leaving the Weave is what you’re going to do when you become Warlord of Cald," said Harror, mockingly. "I’m sick of hearing about it. Besides, you’re the Cald Magi, make your own fire!"

"Would you two stop already?!?" raged Chur. "I’m trying to clean the sand out of my boots and your petty bickering keeps breaking my concentration!"

"Oh, what’s the point? It’ll just be there again come morning," groaned Harror. "This stuff gets into every crack and refuses to come loose. I’ll never get all the sand out of my… never mind!"

Rising to his feet, Lanyx stalked towards Korremar, who had, so far, managed to steer clear of this conversation. "We’ve been walking for 10 days. Where are you leading us? I demand you tell me! And no more of your cryptic answers!"

"You have asked that question more times than I can count and my answer has always been the same. What makes you think that my answer will be different this time? I am taking you to the heart of the desert."

"That answer just doesn’t cut it, Korremar! That’s it, I’m outta here!"

"If Lanyx leaves, I leave!"

"Me too!"

"Do not be so hasty," Korremar said, soothingly. "You would get lost in less than a day."

"I never get lost!" Lanyx said indignantly.

"Oh yeah, what about three days ago?" asked Korremar.

"I knew where I was the whole time."

"We spent the whole day looking for you," said Harror, "and the only reason we found you was because we followed the sound of your whining."

"I DO NOT WHINE! A warrior never whines. I was just making an observation."

"’When I finally take my rightful place as Warlord of Cald, I’m going to blah, blah, blah,’" Chur said in a near perfect imitation of Lanyx’s voice. "The only reason we even bothered looking for you was because Korremar convinced us we should. That alone took half a day, whiner."

"Call me a whiner again and I’ll toast you like a blade of grass!"

"Calm yourselves. We will reach our destination in two days. After that…" Korremar trailed off as the Magi glared at him.

"’After that’ what?" asked Harror.

"After that you will have all the answers you need. Now, I would suggest you all get some sleep, we have a long walk ahead of us." His comment was met with three groans. Had he not been wearing a mask, the three Magi would have seen a chilling smile of satisfaction cross Korremar’s face.

****

Several hours after his companions had fallen asleep, Korremar wandered into the desert alone. Once there were a good number of dunes between him and the camp, Korremar planted one end of his staff into the sand and dropped to his knees.

"You handled that masterfully. I thought we would have to track them all down individually," said a voice from behind Korremar’s kneeling form.

"There is a reason that I was the one to go on this mission," Korremar replied, rising to his feet. "Though I am displeased at losing Qwade and Ashio along the way. Now come out, Sandkeeper, so that we can talk face to face."

The dune behind Korremar began to stir. Slowly at first and then with increasing speed, sand began to part as a Magi rose from the ground.

"It’s been a long time, brother," said Nahara as he stepped into Korremar’s embrace.

****

Harror watched silently, pretending to be asleep, as Korremar snuck back into the camp. "He’s up to something," she thought. "If I were in his place, I’d have left us in the desert to die long ago. I’ll have to keep my eye on him."

****

Two days passed with the usual sounds of complaint bouncing off the dunes. Korremar felt as though he was being watched but every time he looked around, all he saw was three downtrodden Magi, trudging their way through the sand.

"That’s right," thought Harror, "I’m watching you. I don’t trust you. You’re bound to turn on us and the second you do, I’ll be ready."

Just as the sun began to set on the second day, Korremar stopped near a rock outcropping in the shape of a hyren. It took several steps for Harror, Lanyx and Chur to notice that he wasn’t walking beside them anymore. Harror, suspicious of this sudden move, started fiddling with her rings, appearing nervous.

"What are you stopping for?" Lanyx asked. "There’s nothing here!"

"On the contrary, I think you will find there is plenty here," said Korremar.

Korremar took two steps back as the ground began to churn at his companions’ feet. They began sinking into the sand. Lanyx and Chur looked around in confusion as they were sucked deeper into the grasp of the desert.

Harror, prepared for Korremar’s deception, summoned a pair of dark ayebaw to pull her up out of the sand. "You’ve betrayed me Korremar! You’ve lied to me! You’ve led me into a trap! Now you will pay for your deceit with your life! No one makes a fool of Harror!" Suddenly, another creature sprang into being, summoned by Harror in a fit of rage. A gorath now joined the pair of dark ayebaw that faced off against the unprotected Korremar.

Korremar pulled back his hood and removed his mask, revealing a face darkened by the tainting touch of the Core but covered in patterns of glowing white scales. A laugh escaped his lips. "What a pleasant surprise. I expected to have to face Lanyx, not you." As he spoke, the sand in every direction began parting as d’Resh Magi began rising from their hiding places under the desert. "Did you really think that I had not planned for some form of resistance?"

Seeing that she was outnumbered, Harror fled with the help of her ayebaw, leaving the gorath to buy her time to escape. With hatred in her heart, she watched as Lanyx and Chur fought to free themselves. Their struggling only hastened their descent into the sand and, before long, they were buried up to their necks. "You’ll pay for this Korremar. You and all of your kind."

****

"Don’t worry, she’ll never escape d’Resh. We’ll chase her down and bring her back to be held with the others," spat Harresh.

"See that she is," replied Korremar. "This is now your task. If you fail, you will answer to me."

"Nahara, begin the interrogation. We need more information before we can move against the true threat to the Moonlands. I avoided contact with Agram and Morag during my time with the Shadow Magi. Their power would have been strong enough to see through my disguise. Perhaps these two might have better insight into their plans prior to Agram’s defeat at the hands of Tony Jones."

****

As the sun began to rise, Korremar reached an area of open desert. There was nothing on the horizon in any direction. This spot was perfect for what he had to accomplish. Korremar sat on the sand with his legs crossed and began to chant.

As his voice rose, the wind around him began to pick up. The force of it began lifting the sand around him. Slowly, a great vortex of sand began to swirl around Korremar’s sitting form. Continuing his chant, the cyclone scoured Korremar, tearing away all traces of darkness that he had used to hide his true identity. With each passing moment, Korremar could feel the purity of the desert returning to him. Though the howl of the wind drowned out his voice, Korremar continued until his throat was raw and he could speak no more.

As the wind died down, a new Magi rose from the sand, his bold features highlighted by the setting sun. He was the will of the desert, the strength of his people. He was no longer Korremar, minion of the Core. He was Korremar, Avatar of Durresh.

****

"Avatar, I have spoken with the Oracle," said Nahara. "She says that you must seek Rayje. Only he will be able to guide you to the information that you seek."

"So be it. Where can I find Rayje?"

"Rayje is drawn to conflict. The Paradans are being invaded by the Magi of Bograth. Korg seeks the power of the Paradise Gem. Travel to Paradwyn and aide them in their struggle against Korg. When Rayje arrives, ask to travel with him. If you appear to have the same goals as he does, he will agree."

"Then to Paradwyn I will go."

"Brother, what shall we do with Lanyx and Chur? It has been four days since we began interrogating them and the only information of substance we have learned is that the Dark Twins control Naroom."

"Let the Sands do with them what they will."

"And the Dark Twins?" asked Nahara

"Send our strongest to subvert the forces of the Core. They must not be allowed to control the surface. If Agram returns, as the Oracle has foretold, any foothold on the surface of the Moonlands will greatly aide in whatever foul plans he has made."

"As you command. May Durresh guide your steps."

"He always does."

[ohyeahmagi-nation]

Lash of Spite

Weapons of Darkness, Part 3 by Matt Deffer and Edward Bolme Read Part 2 "Blade of Grass"

"I win again!" Qwade shouted at Orthea. They floated in the still water of the deep sea. An underwater volcano added a reddish tint to the light and warmed the water. It was a favorite spot for young Magi to practice conjuring and challenge each other to games of skill.

Qwade floated with his five octopus-like legs fanned out beneath him. He grinned at Orthea. Orthea's bright red hair soaked the color from the volcano and seemed to become a ring of fire around her head. She floated on her back so she could get the most heat. Her blue tail lazily moved in the odd current to keep her in place. Her head hung down facing Qwade so that he appeared upside-down when she looked.

"I won, so now you have to get me something to eat!" Qwade crossed his arms across his chest and stuck his tongue out at Orthea. She returned the gesture then rolled over to warm her stomach. She rested her head on her crossed arms.

"No I don't, you cheated!"

"I did not, I won! You have to do what I say!" Qwade yelled and swam closer to Orthea.

"Oh yeah? I bet you're hiding something!" Orthea huffed and spun so that she faced Qwade with her tail pointed down towards the sea floor.

"Am not!"

"Prove it!" Orthea pointed at Qwade's tentacles.

"I don't have to, I'm the winner. Go suck on a sea slug!" Qwade's tentacles wound around each other beneath him.

"I'll never play with you again and I'll tell everyone you're a cheater unless you show me you're not hiding anything," Orthea placed her hands on her hips.

"Fine, fine, if you're going to be a whiny little girl!" Qwade lifted his tentacles one at a time to show her the empty suckers underneath.

"That's not fair, you have to show all of them at once!"

"You’re stalling! Now do what I say," Qwade pouted.

"No!"

"If you don't, I'll--"

"You'll what?" Orthea swam up close to Qwade so that her nose nearly touched his. Qwade growled and flashed his teeth at Orthea.

"Orthea, Qwade, what's going on here?" An old Magi with bluish-purple hair and a crown of red and blue coral raised an eyebrow at the two quarreling. He leaned a twisting trident of green and brown coral but his eyes shone with a strength that made the two quiet immediately and back away from each other. After a moment, Qwade inched closer to the Magi. His voice trembled ever so slightly when he spoke.

"Elder Mobis, Orthea won't do what I say! She never listens to me no matter how often I prove I'm better than her. She's jealous she's not as good as me!"

"He's a shellhead and he cheats every game! He's hiding something under his tentacles right now!"

"Am not! I already let her look and she didn't find anything. She has to listen to me, tell her to respect her betters."

Mobis sighed. He frowned at the two young Magi.

"You little ones need to learn to work together. Soon, you'll both be called to use your talents to protect Orothe. How can you guard your family and your friends if you bicker over meaningless trifles?" Mobis raked his gaze across the two.

"You, Orthea, I'm especially disappointed with," he said. Orthea could see Qwade behind Mobis waggle his fingers in front of his nose at her. "You are older and have trained more... diligently. There is no respect to be had in picking on Qwade; he is difficult enough without you and Ebylon constantly trying to show him up."

"What?" Qwade blushed and grabbed Mobis's arm. It was Orthea's turn to make faces at him.

"They only beat me when they work together... and then only if they surprise me and I'm tired from all the important things I do. They can't stand the fact everyone looks up to me. Sometimes I just let them win so they don't cry like the children they are. Obviously they couldn't really..."

Mobis raised a baleful eyebrow at Qwade. Qwade let go of his arm.

"I mean, well, you know what I mean," Qwade puffed out his chest and swam to float next to Orthea.

"See? He's always like that, it's impossible to be nice to him or he thinks you want to be his slave!" Orthea huffed. "He's not even brave enough to walk on land!"

"Am too! I learned way before you and got bored with it because only barnacle-brains would want to go up on land," Qwade shouted, the color in his face rising until he nearly glowed.

"Everybody knows he's the only one who doesn't go up to see the Naroom carnival in spring."

"I just don't want to, it's so dry up there, and the Naroom Magi are so ugly," Qwade said with his eyes cast towards the ground.

"You're the ugly one, Qwade!" spat Orthea.

"Beauty is skin deep, but true power comes from within," said Qwade haughtily.

"That's 'true beauty comes from within,' stupidhead!" countered Orthea. "You can't even get that right, and you never will, because you're ugly inside and out!" Then she turned and started to swim away.

"Did you hear that?" Qwade asked Mobis angrily. "Make her take it back! Make her say I'm not ugly!"

Mobis started to open his mouth, then paused, then turned and slowly swam over to where Orthea sulked.

The two spoke for a few moments, then Orthea turned to Qwade and yelled, "Mobis says I should be nice to you so you won't cry! But you're just an ugly spoiled brat! You're head's so swollen I wish it would make you fly away to Arderial and never bother us again!" Then she turned and swam away as fast as she could.

Mobis shook his head and followed her, leaving Qwade alone by the volcanic vent.

Qwade let his arm drop and fought back the tears.

"Maybe..." he said, "maybe that's just what I'll do."

* * * * *

Qwade looked back toward his home from just off the coast of Naroom. He carried a staff of blue coral and elegantly twisted driftwood. On a belt of knotted seaweed hung a bag that carried some food and large flask of seawater.

"Think I'm ugly? I'll show you. I'll get back at you all. Especially you, Orthea. You couldn't just treat me right, you were jealous of my power. True power lies within, not in a pretty face. How could any of them give me the respect I deserve when you keep mocking my looks? I'll punish you until you learn proper manners, and then I'll make Mobis lock you up in Hubdra's Cube in front of everybody for being so... for being so... so mean!" Qwade shook a fist at the rippling ocean, "All of Orothe will pay for not respecting me!" Qwade looked up the beach towards the huge trees of the Naroom forest and said, "I just hope that any pathetic locals will know how important I am."

Qwade started out of the water. When he was far enough up the beach that the water only touched his lower waist he stopped and looked at the forest looming just beyond the sand. He smacked his lips and looked back across the rippling ocean.

"I see they were all too afraid of me to bid me farewell. Hmph. I'll search the drylands, and reveal my true greatness to whomever I meet. And then I'll be back, I'll come back and everyone will see that I am the best Magi that ever was and they'll carry me in parades and feed me and beg to do as I say."

He stopped at the edge of the forest and looked one last time at the waves lapping against the shore. He took a step towards the water. He squared his shoulders then turned and slithered into the shadows between the trees.

Unseen behind him, Bria floated in the surf and watched his departure, tears in her eyes.

* * * * *

Two shadows stepped out of the trees by the beach. Light brown strips of cloth wrapped their legs and feet. The rest of their clothing was dark; even their skin was green so that they seemed a part of the forest. The woman had long green hair that reached past her waist and covered her eyes. The man covered his lower face with a dark green cloth. Their eyes glowed an evil yellow in the dim light. They looked at each other, and their cold snickering sounded like a snake slithering across leaves. They disappeared down the path behind Qwade, silent as the onset of night.

They followed him easily. His broad lower body forced him to go around most of the trees. He wasn't used to traveling on land so he often tried to force his way through underbrush thinking that it would move gently aside like the soft seaweed he was used to. He was sitting with his back against a tree looking thoroughly miserable when they caught up to him. His flask sat nearly empty on the ground and his satchel of food rested in a nook between the roots of the tree.

"Why doesn't someone help me? I am the great Qwade, those wicked Naroomese are hiding nearby and won't help me because they're jealous, too! Just like Orthea. I bet they want me to starve in this dirty forest. They'll pay too," Qwade scratched his jaw and grumbled. He stuffed a seaweed cake into his mouth and fished around in his satchel for another. The empty bag clung to his hand as he tried to pull it out. He flailed his hand, and the bag flew off and landed beside the tree. He glared at it.

"No matter, I'll simply get food from the next Magi I come across. If I find one of those stupid Naroomese, I'll teach him I'm not to be trifled with. He'll beg to give me whatever I desire! And if he doesn't... well, I'll make sure he never forgets his mistake," Qwade chuckled. He looked behind him at the tree and patted it with his hands, imagining it would turn into a soft bed of sea sponge. He sighed and rubbed his back against the bark, wishing it would fluff and form to him like a pillow.

"What have we here, sister?" came a hiss from directly above his head. Qwade looked up to stare directly into the glowing yellow eyes of the male. He hung upside down from a branch and his hair splayed all around his face so that for a moment Qwade thought he was going to be eaten by a horrible fuzzy forest monster. At the same moment, a young woman materialized out of the shadows facing Qwade. She made no sound, and she moved with such grace that Qwade was sure she floated across the grass. Her lips were pursed in a wicked smile that caught Qwade's eyes and wouldn't let go. He felt stuck in a trance until her hand touched his cheek. The moment shattered and he squealed and jerked his head back, bonking it into the trunk of the tree behind him.

The woman's smile widened.

"Why, brother, unless my eyes deceive, it must be the great Orothean Magi Qwade, cast out by the jealous lesser people of the sea. Look, his power shines in his eyes," the woman spoke in a whisper that reminded Qwade of the dark of a cave, mysterious and dangerous. Qwade had never liked caves.

The man back-flipped off his branch to land on his toes next to Qwade. He grabbed Qwade's jaw and forced him to look at him. Qwade grimaced under the scrutiny.

"Sister, I believe you are right. Why, he is obviously too good to be out here in the muck and dirt of this forest, we should take him home with us and treat him as he so obviously deserves," the man chuckled and let go of Qwade.

"How-- how did you know my name?" Qwade couldn't help cringing from him.

"Why, we all know your name, stories of your obvious greatness are easy to find for those with the ears to hear them," the woman lightly ran a sharp fingernail across Qwade's shoulder.

Finally, thought Qwade, people with proper manners towards their betters. And they obviously have some skills or they would not have been able to sneak up on me. They could be useful, but...

"You seem to know my reputation, but who are you?" Qwade asked as he tried to stand tall, not knowing that the tree branch above him was an unmoving as the shrubs and tree trunks. He exhaled sharply and rubbed the new bump on his head. The woman stepped so close to Qwade that he could look at nothing else.

"I am Warrada and he is my brother Hrada. We have some small power ourselves, though of course not as strong as we've heard about you," she smiled as Qwade nodded. Behind him, Hrada quietly looked through Qwade's satchel. He grimaced and shook his head at Warrada and threw the bag and Qwade's flask far back into the shadows of the forest.

"Oh no!" Warrada gasped and pointed, "Some Naroomese devils have stolen your food and water!"

Qwade whirled and stared at the place he had left his supplies. Hrada leaned casually against the trunk with his arms folded across his chest.

"My dear sister, I don't know how they could have done it, I haven't moved from this spot. Obviously they are crafty devils, it's lucky this Orothean was here or we might have been taken captive as well!" Hrada yawned.

Qwade whined, "But aren't you from Naroom as well? And what about my food?"

"Oh, we would never be part of the vile people of Naroom. We represent a band of Magi that have been wronged by people too jealous or stupid to recognize that we simply want what we deserve. Together we will force them to respect us. We've been looking for you for quite some time; the stories say you have the power to lead. But they seem too good to be true. No one could be that strong," Warrada pulled away from Qwade and hugged herself as if warding away false hopes. Under her bangs she winked at Hrada.

"No, no, everything you've heard is true," Qwade reached out to comfort Warrada, "and if you've heard it from those dirty Orotheans, it's probably not anywhere near as great as I truly am. Jealousy clouds their eyes and makes them tell ridiculous stories to bring down their betters. The best they can come up with is to say I'm ugly," added Qwade grumpily.

"Oh, you must come with us," she replied. "We'll give you a comfortable place to rest and all the food you desire," Warrada extended a hand to Qwade and smiled, revealing a pair of wickedly pointed fangs. Qwade nearly flinched but managed to hold still.

"But if you're not from Naroom, where are you from? And what are you doing here?" Qwade's eyes narrowed. He pulled himself to his full height. One of his legs slowly reached and coiled around his staff.

"The Core, of course," Hrada stepped away from the tree to stand next to his sister, "Where else would we be welcome. Don't you see? All the Magi up here are too selfish, too jealous to treat you like you deserve. And, as my dear sister said, we've come to find you."

"But the Core is evil. The stories of Agram..." Qwade shivered. Faster than the twins could react he tossed his staff from his tentacle to his hands and spun it into a horizontal bar between him and the twins.

"Oh, Qwade, how misinformed you are. Those are silly tales told by ignorant people," Warrada said as she and Hrada slowly moved apart. Qwade's eyes darted between them and he pushed back against the tree. Above his mask, Hrada's narrow eyes grinned at Qwade.

"These Magi just want to keep you from getting what you deserve, and the power of the Core can give you that," Warrada reached past Qwade's staff to rest lightly on his forearm. The warmth in her hand surprised him and he relaxed in spite of himself, "Why else would they tell a Magi as powerful as you to beware the Core? What have you to fear? They are selfishly trying to keep that power for themselves so that you will never get the respect you deserve."

Qwade nodded and let go of the staff with one hand and rested the tip on the ground so that it stood up straight next to him. He looked up at the sky; it was all coming together for him. He would go to the Core and lead these poor people to victory over Orothe and he would be treated as he should. Everyone would finally do as he said.

"Yes, yes, I see now, I knew it all along. I will help you in your time of need. It is good that I found you before those nasty Naroomese. I knew you would need my skills to lead you to victory," Qwade said and gestured all around him. Warrada giggled when Qwade's gaze fell on her, but she frowned and made a gagging gesture at Hrada as soon as he turned away.

"Now, you said something about food and a place to sleep?"

"Follow us and you'll get what you deserve."

* * * * *

"Wow, now he's ugly," said Harror as the Dark Twins brought Qwade in to meet Agram.

"You're just jealous of my power!" shouted Qwade immediately. "Just like all the rest!"

"Silence," murmured Agram, seated upon his throne, and so powerful was his bass voice that immediately all noise in the room stopped. Qwade was afraid his heart might be beating too loud.

The undisputed ruler of the Core looked at the new recruit. He cast a spell and drew the memories out of Qwade, teasing them like a fish on a line. You're the ugly one, Qwade... you're ugly inside and out. The words whispered in the air of the throne room, an echo of the painful past.

"Hmm," Agram ran a taloned hand across his chin as he looked at Qwade, "I may have something to beautify your face and let your inner power shine through," he said.

"But sir, I don't need anything, Orthea was just lying because she's jealous," Qwade growled.

"Nevertheless, I believe you deserve to have this. It's an ancient relic made by one of your forefathers, you should be proud to wear it," Agram snapped his fingers, and immediately Jalex appeared at his side, bearing a very old coral box, covered with barnacles. Agram reached in and removed a slightly curved plate that had two leaf-shaped holes, each with two red stripes painted beneath.

"It's a mask," Qwade said as Agram put it into his hands. Above the eyeholes the mask curved out to look like smooth eyebrows. Just under the jaw a ridge extended outward and five smooth triangles, like wide, dulled teeth jutted down. Qwade ran a finger across the triangles then looked closely at them.

"These... these are tentacles," Qwade touched the back of one that showed a multitude of tiny engraved circles. Agram nodded.

"That's right. It was made by one of your ancestors, one without fins. Only an Orothean with a character such as yours can use it. Now if you will excuse me, I have other matters to attend to."

Qwade stared at Agram as he departed. His knuckles turned white where his hands gripped the mask. The muscles along his jaw stood out and he breathed heavily. Then he looked at Warrada standing coyly beside him, and he suddenly relaxed and flashed her a smile that didn't touch his eyes.

"See? Even Agram knows I deserve the best. The sooner you and the others realize it, the better. And so saying, he placed the mask on his face. It adhered to his skin with a curious sucking sound.

"Woah," said Qwade. "Is it darker in here, or is it just me?"

"It's you," said Warrada with a smile.