Jisanne tried to concentrate so she could gather power for her magic, draw power slowly from the surrounding plants and trees, perhaps even from the halflings themselves. If she garnered strength gradually, she might not alert the vicious little beasts to what she was doing.
She could have just ripped the power from the fabric of the world, stealing as much life force as required, but even to save herself, Jisanne was reluctant to destroy life by turning to the corrupting magic. The only time she truly defiled nature was to activate the navigation crystal, and that was… necessary. For now, she would find another way.
The halflings left Jisanne in the pen, focused on other interests, jabbering and chuckling.
“I’m hungry!”
“They better not have gnawed all the bones!”
“Save me a tender piece,” Borodro said. The other halfling hunters dumped the decapitated body of their comrade on the trampled ground. “And start cooking Delfi. Throw in a lot of garlic so he doesn’t taste gamey.”
Jisanne realized that there were no other captives. Several human carcasses-mostly picked clean-were being roasted over a bed of orange coals near the stone pyramid. The returning hunters rushed over to the cookfire and squabbled over the remaining meat.
She felt a sickening wrench in her gut. Halfling cannibals were the worst.
Sweating, in pain from her contusions and cracked bones, Jisanne closed her eyes and began to concentrate on scraps of magic, pulling together any possibilities for her escape. She didn’t have much time.
Koram walked away and never looked back at the Balic skyline. He did not listen to the mayhem as Skull Wearer and his beast giant army hammered the walls, did not flinch as sorcerer-king Andropinis fought back with arcane magic. He heard explosions, screams, a loud ripping roar… and he kept walking. It was no longer his battle; perhaps it had never been.
With his sword he cut the mooring rope of a fully stocked silt skimmer, then set sail out into the estuary. As a youth, in happier days in the great walled city, he had learned how to guide and levitate the skimmers on his impetuous adventures in the surrounding area. This, though, was no mere lighthearted expedition. He would never return.
The hot, dry breezes blew him past other coastal villages, then he turned east into deeper silt, crossing to the hazy highlands of the Dragon’s Palate, where he hoped to live off the land.
After he beached the silt skimmer at sunset, Koram set up camp in the trees; he slept little, with his back against a sturdy trunk, as he listened to creatures stalking the night. He had no plan, no goal-and it felt liberating. Before, he had lived for his family, for his city, to make a better existence for all the citizens of Balic. He had worked hard and dedicated himself for people he cared about. And after his disgrace, he had been forced to fight and kill for people he hated.
Now all that was gone, the good and the bad. He owed nothing to anyone. He would heal, he would survive, and one day, perhaps he would find something else to believe in.
Next day, he continued to explore the island, finding the ruins of a Balic fort whose inhabitants had been slaughtered, probably by Skull Wearer’s giants. He picked through the wreckage and took what he needed, but he did not want to stay at the site of a recent massacre.
Continuing his explorations, he encountered a commotion up ahead, shouts and snapping branches. He heard a halfling warrior party crashing through the forest long before he saw them. He decided they must be bad warriors to be so noisy and obvious… and then he realized they were chasing someone.
A young woman burst out of the trees, running wildly; her long brown hair streamed behind her. She looked battered and exhausted. When the woman saw Koram, they both froze. He had not intended to save anyone, and she looked just as reluctant to accept his help, but the yips, howls, and high-pitched curses of the pursuers drove her toward him.
“Halflings,” she said, heaving great breaths. “I used my magic to escape… not much left now. And no time.”
“Magic?” Koram tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword. “I have no love for defilers.”
“I don’t defile. I’m a survivor-so far. You’ll come with me if you hope to survive.”
Bounding forward with a speed and agility that belied his stocky body, the halfling leader raced out of the trees, waving his bone sword. He skidded to a halt, his eyes bugging out as he saw the armored gladiator, then he yelled back to the trees. “Hey, hurry up! I’ve caught another one!”
Brazen with confidence, the woman whirled to face the halfling. “Leave us, Borodro-and maybe we won’t kill you.”
Borodro laughed. “I have fifty followers right behind me!”
“I counted forty-five,” she said.
He paused to tally them again in his mind. “More than enough.”
Since he had done nothing to provoke the halfling hunter, had made no sign of even choosing sides in the dispute, Koram was taken off guard as Borodro threw himself forward like a rabid animal. With fierce and unhindered sword work, the feral halfling landed the first blow and chipped one of Koram’s petrified-wood armor plates.
As a gladiator, Koram had fought many different opponents, so he adjusted his combat technique accordingly. His arena fighting skills took over, automatic and without mercy. He had not meant to fight again, did not want to get involved in this squabble… but he could not simply ignore this woman. If he had fought back earlier, if he had defended his family against the guards who came to take him, maybe he could have saved his wife and son. Koram parried the halfling’s sharpened-femur sword with his own bronze edge, hammering so hard he splintered the giant bone. Borodro hesitated in surprise at the ferocity of the blow.
With a curled fist, Koram smashed the halfling leader in the nose, drawing forth a surprised yowl and a burst of blood. As the enrgaged Borodro threw himself against the gladiator again, Koram impaled him on his sword. The halfling collapsed, wailing as his blood poured out.
In the dense trees nearby, the remaining forty-five halfling pursuers heard their leader’s death scream, then raised their own voices.
Koram held his sword and stood his ground; he did not even know who this woman was, but he was certain he could never defeat so many halfling cannibals.
The woman yanked a small pouch from her breeches and unwrapped it to reveal a rough shard of crystal. She looked up at Koram, wild-eyed. “No way around it now. I can use Borodro’s life force before he dies, and I’ll probably have to drain a dozen trees, too. But it’s either defiling magic, or we both die.”
Anger flared inside him. “I refuse to be part of defilement.”
On the ground, Borodro coughed blood and wheezed out a death rattle. Wearing a grim expression, the woman knelt next to the dying halfling, working her hands around the crystal. “Normally I would use my own blood, my own strength, but this creature has already taken enough lives.” She spat in the halfling’s face to express her loathing, then she looked with greater sympathy at Koram. “You saved me. I’ll save you. I’ll take you to… a better place.”
As she summoned the power to activate the crystal, Borodro wailed and writhed, then shriveled to dust. The grasses and weeds on the ground withered as the circle of defiling magic spread, drinking life energy from anything it touched. Tall trees turned brown, creaking, splintering.
Koram yelled at her, “I do not want-”
Then the first members of the halfling hunting party charged forward out of the trees, waving their weapons. They all looked hungry.
The crystal in her palm glowed as she finished her spell.
The world shimmered-and they were both in a different place. Koram’s next breath tasted of moisture, life, flowers, and leaves. Nearby, a brook tumbled over mossy rocks on its way downhill. The shadowy monster-infested forest was now glittering with birdsong and gentle breezes. Even the sun in the sky was bright yellow, rather than a dull bloody red.
He stared in awe, then looked at the woman, demanding explanations. “Where have you taken me?”
The magic user shuddered in disgust at what she had done. The rough crystal in her bloodstained palm emitted a yellowish glow. “This is Athas… our world, before the sorcerer-kings and corrupt magic users wrung it dry.”
“How did we get here?” The gladiator looked around, worried that Borodro’s cannibal halflings had followed
