Thomas Reid - The Fractured Sky

Few of the park visitors paid any attention to the newest arrivals.

"It's amazing!" Kaanyr breathed, turning his gaze back and forth as he tried to take in all the sights. "So much magic."

"Indeed," Tauran said, though the angel seemed far less delighted. "You cannot walk a city block in this mystical place without crossing paths with a potent practitioner, one of their preternatural works, or both. It is, truly, a city of magic."

"You're not impressed," Aliisza said, looking at Tauran with a smile of accusation. "You disapprove of magic?"

Tauran shrugged. "It's not that," he said. He seemed to search for the right words. "Let's just say that I have little use for such a conspicuous display of secular power. It seems pompous and… misguided."

"To you, perhaps," Kaanyr said. "But this is not your home. Here, the goddess is magic. Everyone sees her as the embodiment of what they know best."

"Yes, precisely," Tauran said, disdain creeping into his tone. "An uncaring, unconscious force, relied upon far too much as a measure of one's worth. It pales in comparison to the power of faith. That comes from within. That's what makes you who you are. Magic is just a tool, and often a crutch."

Aliisza sniffed, a bit put off by the angel's proselytizing. "Not very open-minded of you," she said. "All tools have their uses. Magic happens to be a very valuable one."

"Agreed," Tauran said with a faint smile. "But it should never define who you are." Then he waved his hand to dismiss the discussion. "It's irrelevant at the moment. We need to find our way to the Eye."

"That may be difficult," Kael said. He had been watching the group's surroundings more intensely as the other three conversed, and when he spoke, he pointed.

Aliisza could see a contingent of hound archons approaching. Seven blue-white stars arranged in a circle adorned their fancy red livery, marking them as servants of Mystra.

Not again, she thought, and on instinct turned in a different direction.

More of the celestial warriors approached from that way, too. As the alu turned in place, she noted that teams of the archons came at them from every direction, covering all the different paths leading from the arch.

"A welcoming party," Kaanyr said. "Doesn't look like there's much welcome to them, though." He pulled his borrowed daggers free of his belt.

"Easy," Kael said, though Aliisza noted that he fingered the hilt of his own blade restlessly. She had her hand upon the hilt of her sword, too. "We're not in trouble here," the knight added. "I hope."

"Put away your weapons, Vhok," Tauran ordered. "All of you. They are understandably cautious when visitors arrive through a portal from elsewhere. There's no need to lend credence to their suspicions. I've been met by this sort of greeting before, and it has worked out without trouble. Just let me speak with them."

Kaanyr scowled, but he slipped the daggers back into their sheaths and folded his arms across his chest. "Very well, angel," he said.

As the archons drew closer and formed a circle around the four, Tauran raised his hand in a peaceful gesture. "Well met, noble soldiers. Who speaks for you?"

"I do," one of the dog-headed warriors said, stepping forward from the circle. "State your name and where you came from."

"I am Tauran of the House of the Triad, and these are my companions," he said, gesturing to the other three. "That's Kael, loyal knight of Torm and my trusted pupil, Vhok of the Scourged Legion, based near Sundabar on Faerыn, and his lieutenant and consort, Aliisza. We come seeking only information. We wish to visit the Eye."

The archon nodded. "The House of the Triad, you say. I'm afraid that's going to be a problem. We have orders to detain anyone hailing from Tyr's domain for questioning before we let them into the city."

Aliisza felt her blood run cold. They know, she thought. Micus is here. It's a trap.

Myshik crouched and waited at the railing of a pagoda that hovered in midair. Across an expanse of shimmering fountains that glowed like sparkling gems in every hue of the rainbow, he could see the stone arch through which Zasian, Kashada, and he had come. He was supposed to be watching for Vhok's arrival, but Myshik was distracted by the myriad sights and sounds surrounding him.

Dweomerheart truly was a wondrous place.

So much treasure, the half-dragon mused. I could gather up an armload of precious magic at any street corner and return home a hero. Yet again he asked himself why he didn't do that very thing. Zasian will cross me, he thought. Sooner or later, he will turn on me. When he thinks my usefulness to him has ended. It is the way of his god. I should leave now.

But he didn't.

Myshik had been troubled by comments he had heard exchanged between Zasian and Kashada. The two of them had been cryptic, but based on what he had gleaned, the shadow-witch was angry with Zasian for not revealing a time differential to her. He wasn't entirely sure what that meant, but he feared that it could affect him, too, should he try to return home by himself. He was certain he was going to need Zasian's help to return safely to the mountain of his father and uncle.

So the draconic hobgoblin bided his time and watched.

A sled came into Myshik's view, crossing in front of his line of sight to the arch. Two great golden lions pulled the device, and it glided along on glittering silver runners. Where they passed, the runners left a trail of what Myshik could only assume was ice. Even more peculiar were the pennants that rippled from twin poles at the rear of the sled. The flags were identical, each depicting a dancing hobgoblin dressed as a court jester. Instead of cloth, though, the pennants had been constructed of something more akin to light.

The hobgoblins looked real.

As the sled passed, Myshik ducked a tiny bit lower. He told himself that they were simple hobgoblins, beneath him. He was a scion of Clan Morueme and no one would dare imprison him within a flag.

A flag!

But he shrank back out of sight all the same.

A commotion in the park caught the half-dragon's attention. He peered carefully and saw several archons moving toward the hill and the arch. Squinting, he could barely make out four figures standing before the magical doorway.

He lifted a small crystal lens to his eye. Zasian had given it to him. The priest had told him it was on loan and not to lose it. Myshik had savored the thought of tucking it away and keeping it. He wondered how far Zasian would chase him to get it back.

Through the lens, Myshik could see the figures up close. It was Vhok and his alu whore, as well as two others-an angel and a dark figure with a large sword.

Interesting, Myshik thought. Do they work in concert? How could the cambion manage that? And who leads? So many puzzles.

The half-dragon continued to watch as the archons drew closer to the quartet and surrounded them. The angel began to speak and gesture. The others appeared nervous, fingering weapons and glaring.

Myshik half-hoped to see a fight break out. Though he suspected that Vhok and his friends would be the victors, it would amuse him nonetheless.

But they came to no blows.

Disappointed, Myshik rose from his observation point and turned to go. He reached the top of a series of floating, disconnected slabs of stone arranged like a staircase leading down from the pagoda. They wended their way through the sparkling fountains to the pathways beyond. Rather than bother descending them, Myshik spread his wings and glided to the ground. When he landed, he trotted away to inform Zasian that their pursuers had arrived in Dweomerheart.

"Detain us? That's highly unusual, isn't it?" Tauran asked the archons. His voice carried a gracious tone, but there was a concerned edge to it. "I have come to your fascinating city on other occasions, and you never had cause to detain me then."