“It all starts with two brothers, as folktales often do. Except this is less a folktale and more a tale about folks, in this case Ganyir and Targin, the sons of the late Lord Fermaff Gonki. As young men, both showed an enthusiasm and a talent for war, both in physical combat and in leading their troops. Bold warriors in the finest traditions of Gonki. There was great hope that they’d revive this province’s faltering fortunes, at least among those who always believe that the past is best. You know the types—old, rich people in old, rich houses, dreaming of a world where everyone knew right from wrong, and the right way was theirs.”
“We don’t need the social analysis,” I said. I’d known enough of those types back on Earth; I didn’t need more of it in the Seven Realms.
“Just tell us the history,” Vesma added.
“Fine, fine. But if you want to learn from my guild, you’ll have to learn to respect its masters. Once we have the right ones back in place, that is.
“Anyway, Ganyir was the more capable of the two brothers, a better fighter and a more powerful Augmenter, which was fortunate as he was the eldest son and so, heir to the province. For what it’s worth, many also considered him the better of the two—honorable, courteous, willing to listen to enemies as well as friends, proud and supportive of the people of his clan. When Lord Fermaff died, there was mourning, as was only appropriate, but it was soon followed by rejoicing for the ascent of Lord Ganyir.
“But even as we celebrated, trouble was stirring in the streets of Hyng’ohr. Mysterious strangers had appeared among our people, offering a new path to strength and prosperity.”
“The Unswerving Shadows Cult,” I said.
“You’ve met them! Charming, aren’t they? Nothing makes me love a cult like seeing it scapegoat Wilds like me. And all that conspiring in corners, such a charming custom.
“I was one of the first to seriously clash with the cult, and I thought that I was acting quickly, but in truth, I had left it too late. They had their claws not just in the city but in my guild. Just because I liked to play the occasional prank and sometimes dropped jokes into my lessons, they convinced many in the guild that I didn’t take them seriously. The Steadfast Horn are good people, but our culture encourages a certain pig-headed seriousness, so they were open to the cult’s ideas. They turned against me, and I was cast out.”
“What about the land?” Vesma asked, growing a little impatient.
“I told you this was a long story. Do you know what long means, or have you been meeting the wrong sorts of men?”
Vesma shot a look at me, and her lips curved into a smile. “My man is capable of telling very long stories. But he doesn’t blabber all the time about himself. Just get on with it.”
“I’m trying! So, I was cast out, chased back into this wasteland where I’d been born and raised. What happened next I didn’t see myself, but I’ve heard enough to know the truth of it.
“The Unswerving Shadows got to Targin. He had always been jealous of Ganyir, so he was susceptible to the whispers in his ear saying that he should be lord. He was a thug and a bully, not a noble warrior like his brother, but he was also more cynical and deceptive, so Ganyir didn’t suspect. Targin and the cult recruited many to their side, then took to suppressing their opponents, filling the streets of Hyng’ohr with fear and death. As more and more of his people turned against him, Ganyir withdrew from the city, believing that they would realize their mistake and beg him to return. But he was wrong. Targin consolidated his hold with the help of mercenaries. The sort of tactics for which Gonki Legions used to serve other rulers were turned against us. Now, Targin is the Lord of the Gonki.”
We walked on through the night, pondering the tragedy of the Gonki brothers. But as I looked across the barren wilderness around us, another thought rose to the fore, the one that had triggered this whole, sorry tale.
“What about the land?” I asked.
“That came after they won. So-called Lord Targin went into the Vigorous Zone, along with our High Priest Saruqin and a group of warriors. They took the Earth Core from the heart of the zone so that they could use it to empower their own people, an unthinkable desecration of a Zone.
“With the Earth Core gone, the monsters continued to come, but the guiding spirit who had made the land livable was gone. The place has become a wasteland, rapidly expanding up and down the valley. Farms and villages have vanished under the sand, sometimes in a matter of days. Magical beasts are running amok.”
“Speaking of which…” Vesma pointed out among the boulders.
Shapes were shifting in the moonlight, a score or more of human-size figures, walking toward us.
As they advanced into the open, I saw their faces and their strange, angular limbs. They were stone golems, like the ones we had faced earlier in the desert. Each one was armed with some sort of stone weapon, and each wore an expression of furious malevolence.
We drew our weapons and readied ourselves.
Chapter Five
More than 20 golems advanced in packs, groups of three or four striding toward us across the rocky and sand-strewn ground. None of them spoke, and I had no idea if they even could, or if the mouths carved into their faces were just for show. Their only sound was the thud of stone feet. The moonlight lent them a dark and ghoulish aspect, their faces a broken tableaux of angular shadows and bleak gray stone.
“Master strengthens me with every battle,” Yono said as I held the Depthless Dream Trident out in front of me.
I was so used to fighting with the
