The enormous rock upon which Panxian was built, the most important port of Anen, could be seen from afar. The shimmer of the sea under the sun’s rays highlighted the whiteness of the stone and the marble with which the houses and buildings of the upper part of the city were constructed.

  Land at last, thought Yowo, as the waters of the Sea of Elnia gently rocked the ship. It was a strange sensation to see solid ground after spending so much time at sea.

  As the flagship of the fleet approached the coastal city and the rock upon which Panxian was built grew larger and larger, like the final boss of a portal, Yowo reflected on the state of the war in the southern land. Although she and her elven ally, Xyrna—who at that moment stood beside her, gazing at the city in a deep meditative state—had completely cut off the supplies reaching the invaders by sea, utterly annihilating the black-sailed pirates, it was likely that the Aneites were still feeding themselves with supplies stolen from the Ixtalites.

  Even so, their armies were large, and as they continued to fight they would need more and more supplies, and above all mana, in significant quantities. If they failed to obtain it, sooner or later their power would be diminished.

  At that moment, the captain approached the prow where the two warriors stood, and with his stentorian voice pulled Yowo out of her thoughts.

  “The time has come for us to part ways, my ladies. I cannot deny that I will miss you, and not only because of your overwhelming beauty.”

  Xyrna smiled at the compliment. Yowo shrugged while continuing to stare at the ever-closer city.

  “It’s not such a big deal, my lord. I’m sure you’ll soon find a suitable replacement.”

  The old man laughed with growls so deep they mimicked the sound of a cannon firing.

  “That is impossible, Lady Yowo. There is no one like you.”

  It was true. As the human and the elf fought together more and more frequently, they grew increasingly powerful, not only individually but through a supernatural synergy. After annihilating the corsairs in the Battle of the Coral Strait, the Ixtalite fleet had advanced to an archipelago the corsairs had controlled for several centuries.

  Unable to contain them at sea, the enemy coalition of orcs, goblins, and human ruffians had entrenched themselves in the central cave of the islet, fearing the swords of that warrior and elf who seemed to have emerged from the very depths of hell.

  Their rocky strongholds, however, could not save them. As experienced portal trackers, the two swordswomen—accompanied by Vog, the dark elf who fought with a long spear, a weapon that not only proved lethal in the way their ally wielded it but also granted immunity to enemy spells—pushed deep into the cave in search of the corsair leader, a robust arcane orc whose main power was creating copies of his underlings to confuse attackers.

  His tricks, however, had no effect on Yowo and her allies. Xyrna, whose third eye had activated during the raid, revealed which pirates were false copies and which were real, saving them several hours of combat. While the captain and his combat-ready sailors fought in the vicinity of the archipelago, the Aneite infiltrated the main cave alongside her two elven companions to confront the leader of that pirate organization that had plagued the deep seas of Elnia for decades.

  The orcs—powerful creatures in close combat—stood no chance against the swift slashes of the swordswomen and the lancer, and although goblin slingers and enemy archers hurled their projectiles in desperation from the rocky heights of the cave, hoping to kill or at least intimidate the invaders in their ancestral lair, they only managed to inflict a scratch on the elf’s forearm. They were simply too fast, and anticipated every single move.

  When the three fighters began advancing toward the heights where the orc mage stood, he attempted to negotiate.

  “I will reveal where all our buried treasures in the region are! Join me and you will be very rich!”

  Yowo, who had suddenly appeared behind him and placed her sword against his throat like a true assassin, whispered, “Look at us, vermin. Do we really look like we want to get rich with your filthy gold?”

  She then slit his throat, from which green blood began to gush in torrents.

  The fighter’s interface filled with notifications.

  You have annihilated Olmhok, ultimate leader of the corsairs! You have reached level one hundred!

  Ten thousand bonus points for being the first warrior to reach the maximum level!

  Two thousand extra points for your dungeon core!

  Then she remembered her farm.

  Right there, in the cold cave of the archipelago surrounded by the corpses of orcs and goblins, Yowo asked Xyrna to take a prescient look at her refuge deep within the jungle. She felt that something was wrong.

  The elf, aware that her human ally would not yield to any excuse, deactivated her third eye and turned it inward.

  The expression on the beautiful lady’s face was no good omen at all. Yowo knew it immediately.

  “I see fire, destruction. A great army is ravaging a castle.”

  “We must return,” she told the admiral as soon as they exited the cave. “Immediately.”

  “What are you talking about, my lady? The fun has just begun. Now that you’ve taken out the main refuge, there are a hundred islands we can plunder.”

  “I don’t care. To hell with them. I must return to the continent immediately.”

  The burly man sighed, but ordered the sails deployed toward the south.

  “You have been relieved of a great burden. That orc seemed far too clever for his kind. Now that we’ve reclaimed the archipelago, you’ll have many miles of fishing grounds to patrol. I assure you the pirates won’t bother you for a long time.”

  “That is true, my lady.”

  Now, as they were about to reach port, the captain bid farewell with a sorrowful gesture and went off to give orders to the sailors to prepare for disembarkation. Yowo continued gazing at the enormous rock that formed Panxian. It seemed like a good place to settle, though it was said that atop the main castle a council of human mages dominated much of the region. It was the only city, aside from the Ixtalite capital itself, that had not fallen into Aneite hands. In fact, they had not even managed to approach it, much less besiege it, as they had nearly done with Rava. That spoke to how intelligent that council of spellcasters ruling from on high could be. Fortunately, Yowo’s interests lay deep within the jungle. She turned back to her companion.

  If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

  “Can you see what is happening with my dungeon?”

  The elf’s beautiful face spoke of bad news.

  “The fire spreads, my lady. There are armored warriors wielding hammers and maces, but there are powers that prevent me from seeing beyond. I do not know whether my visions are occurring now, or if they belong to the past.”

  Damn it, I took too long, thought Yowo helplessly as she saw the port just a few meters away. She felt the urge to leap overboard and swim to the city, reclaim her tiger and plunge into the Aneite roads until reaching the depths of the jungle—but she would not do it. She had to arrive with Xyrna; her help would be invaluable. I should never have neglected my dungeon like this.

  Something told her it had all been caused by the cursed Hunn. Yowo had observed him from afar before the invasion began, and she knew he would sooner or later become a problem. But she never thought it would happen so soon.

  “Is there any way for us to appear there immediately?” she asked Xyrna.

  The elf seemed to emerge from her trance. Her eyes stopped glowing and returned to their normal emerald hue.

  “We elves have many powers, my lady, but I fear teleportation is not among them.”

  “Perhaps it is,” said a hoarse voice behind them.

  Vog, the lancer, had appeared at her side without warning. Only an elf as powerful as he could approach Yowo without her noticing.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I can create a portal, though I will be left as weak as a newborn. It will take me months to recover my powers.”

  “If you do this, I swear I will never find a way in my life to repay you. You will have my favor, and that of all my allies.”

  “We will need mana. A lot of it.”

  Yowo glanced toward where the captain was shouting orders.

  “That won’t be a problem,” she replied.

  ***

  Ludan had stopped seeing the ethereal green trail produced by the tracking orb two days earlier, which indicated that they were now out of danger. Undoubtedly, by that point the invading squadrons and riders were already spread across all of northern Anen, searching for them desperately, but the elf and the vampire were far too clever to be caught.

  “They must hate us with their lives,” Sarric had said. It was true.

  When the two companions could no longer continue slipping through enemy camps due to the constant patrols and the obvious fact that the Klurzites were now lying in wait with traps, they had resorted to the old strategy of confusing the enemy by mixing reality with fiction. They placed false signs on roads leading toward Ixtalite cities, so that the riders believed they were taking the correct paths, when in reality they were being sent toward the most rural and jungle-covered corners of the country, where they would find nothing but beasts and mosquitoes.

  To confuse the enemy even further, they placed small, rustic-looking signs on roads that actually led to major urban centers, such as the one they were currently heading toward. Finally, they left some signs with a city-like appearance on roads that indeed led to cities, and provincial-looking ones on paths that led to the most remote regions.

  “We should reverse them again,” Ludan had said, but the vampire disagreed.

  “I’m surprised to hear that from you, my millennia-old friend,” his cold-blooded companion replied. “If we do that, even those idiot steppe riders will know they only have to do the opposite of what the signs say. But if they don’t know which ones are real, we’ll force them to get to know every corner of the beautiful land of Anen.”

  The elf concluded that it was the best course of action, and indeed, judging by the absence of the ethereal trail that manifested whenever invaders were nearby, he could deduce that they were still lost, wandering the countryside far from the centers of power—and above all, far from Panxian, the city where their patrons lived, and from which they attempted to sabotage the invasion by every means possible.

  At that moment, the mid-afternoon sun shone overhead as they trotted calmly across the countryside.

  They were in no hurry, especially knowing that their tricks had delayed the enemy considerably, and that the Aneite cities remained safe—for now—so long as the council of mages could maneuver and recover what remained of the armies that had marched south toward the invasion of Ixtul.

  Despite their measured pace, the companions knew the land so well that it did not take long before they saw, in the distance, the gigantic rock upon which much of Panxian was built.

  Ludan held his reins tightly to keep his horse from accelerating, allowing the elk ridden by his vampire companion to keep pace. His companion had gone several hours without speaking, which was normal for him with the sun shining high in the sky. Although the Profane Orb allowed him to withstand any damage from its brilliant rays, his nature was still that of a nocturnal being.

  As he observed the back of his companion’s light mail—its edges matching the wide, grim antlers of the elk he rode—Ludan realized that he was once again feeling the inner void that had tormented him over the past few weeks.

  All because of a woman. It’s always a woman, he thought bitterly as they advanced along the uneven road leading to Panxian through its forested hills.

  Although he kept the inner demon at bay through prayers to his goddess, Ludan sensed that something was about to happen regarding his lost love.

  “Somehow I feel like I’m going to run into her. It’s as if I’m getting closer and closer,” he had told Sarric two nights earlier, as they dined in a clearing deep in the night.

  “It’s time you get over her,” the vampire had replied, chewing raw meat with indifference, the corners of his lips stained with blood. “Your mind is screaming for her, and of course you think you’ll see her around every corner, like in your… nightmares. But it’s time to move on, brother. Truly.”

  “I am as old as you, Sarric. We elves can tell when what torments us is a whim, and when it is a premonition.”

  The vampire merely shrugged.

  “Then ready your sword—or your mount. Killing her or fleeing from her are the only options you have, if you want the demon tormenting you not to drive you completely mad.”

  Ludan truly tried to ignore the growing emptiness in his chest, but it was too much for him. As he watched his taciturn companion trot atop the massive elk, he knew he was right. He had to eradicate that demon within himself. But how?

  Shortly before nightfall, the two companions reached Panxian. They entered by the inner road and soon began navigating the path that ascended toward the main tower. Although there was considerable activity in the city that day, the two knew its intricate alleyways well and did not take long to reach the main entrance of the castle.

  After leaving their mounts in the fortress’s main stables, they were guided by stablehands to the outer terrace, where the salty coastal wind brushed lightly against their faces.

  An attractive maid brought them frothy beer while they waited for Maege Lororin himself.

  The taste of the drink was heavenly after months in the cold land of Ilar, and weeks along the jungle roads of Anen, always with Klurzite riders at their heels. Ludan recalled the mysterious harpy attack they had suffered there before departing on their adventure. Now, however, the terrace was perfectly arranged, with ebony tables neatly set and torches glowing in the fading light of sunset, bearing no trace of the attack.

  Who could have ordered such a cowardly assault? All recent events felt deeply confusing.

  Suddenly, the archmage appeared before them, wearing his unwrinkled purple robe of the Council, his long white beard magnificent.

  “Welcome, my lords,” he said as he took a seat. “I trust my aides have treated you well, especially given the great service you have rendered to the country.”

  The vampire offered a slight bow.

  “Better than last time,” he said with a smile. “I’m joking, my lord. Everyone in this castle does an excellent job.”

  The mage smiled with his usual paternal air.

  “Much like yourselves, my dear sirs. I have received the report of your work, and it is astonishing. The enemy army could not be more scattered and lost. It seems you have been causing quite effective mischief.”

  Ludan acknowledged the praise with a slight bow, and the vampire did the same.

  “Let’s just say we’ve made things difficult for them,” he said, taking another sip of beer. “But sooner or later they will find their way here. Has the time we bought you been of any use, my lord?”

  “To a certain extent, yes—but not entirely. Although Panxian’s defenses are prepared to withstand a siege for years, our dear emperor has not wished to withdraw the forces from Ixtul.”

  “But that’s good, isn’t it? I mean, given that he’s not entirely on our… side.”

  “Not entirely, my good sir,” the mage replied. “And what I am about to reveal is a problem not only for the confused riders heading inland, but also for us… and our designs.”

  Ludan did not understand. If the goal of the Council and the emperor was to stop the Klurzites, how could the mercenaries and their patrons stand to lose?

  “I fear the emperor possesses a weapon that could erase us all from the map in a single blast. A fiery blast.”

  The vampire glanced at the elf knowingly.

  It was time to leave that place—before it was too late.