Physalix stared happily at the white-covered mountain in the distance. He could feel the bright spark that hid inside, the bright spark he’d followed after it killed and ate the Hungering Spark instead of being eaten. It was far brighter, far stronger than it had been. It might even be stronger than Physalix was.

  It could not be stronger than Physalix’s monsters. That made Physalix happy.

  The only dark spot in the land jelly’s sight was the fact that his monsters kept running ahead of him as soon as he got them close enough to the mountain where the bright spark hid. He wanted to use them to flush out the bright spark, but it hadn’t moved yet. That meant he needed to bring in more monsters.

  It was a good thing he had so many. Something would surely be successful; if nothing else, he would bury the mountain in monsters. He had more than they could count.

  Day after day passed, and monsters kept escaping Physalix’s grasp. Eventually, he gave up. The only good thing was that the bright spark was still there. At this point, he was certain it would be there until he arrived to pick it up; after all, none of the monsters he controlled could even tell it existed, the same way he couldn’t feel whatever it was that they wanted enough that they broke free of his control. They weren’t going to bother the bright spark.

  He had to get closer.

  Physalix woke the strange winged white monster he’d found at the peak of another mountain and made it float into the sky. He didn’t even know why it had wings; sure, it spread them when it floated, but it floated. It didn’t move the wings at all.

  Its nonsense wasn’t why Physalix had it. Instead, he had it because of what else it could do when it floated: it could float one other thing that was smaller than it was, and Physalix was smaller than it was. That was how it fought when he woke it, but Physalix didn’t need it to fight, he needed it to let him move. With the floaty-winged-thing, he was almost as fast as Yen, the Hungry Spark had been.

  Well, maybe half as fast as the Hungry Spark’s storm could move. That was still far faster than Physalix could walk.

  As Physalix floated towards the distant snowy peak where the bright spark kept stealing his monsters, he had to wonder: what would the bright spark taste like? Would it be chewy and crunchy like most things, or would a spark taste different? Was it even a monster at all?

  Also, how close could he get before he lost his floaty winged monster to its fatal attraction?

  Maybe he should go around and see if the bright spark was hiding on the other side?

  “It’s good to see you two up and moving.” A woman Sophia didn’t know but could easily recognize as one of Amy’s relatives, probably her mother greeted them as she entered the courtyard. While she was clearly older than Amy, her long brown hair showed no hint of silver and her wolflike ears stood tall and proud on the top of her head. She was dressed in a formal blue and green silk dress cinched with a leather belt and golden accents at the shoulders and forearms that gave it a hint of martial sensibility. An ornate pendant hung from a collar-like choker.

  Sophia glanced at Dav just in time to see him give the woman a quiet nod. He clearly didn’t want to speak, so Sophia would have to. “Thank you, yes, we’re feeling a lot better. You must be Amy’s Modir?”

  Sophia almost bit her tongue. She should have called Amy Ci’an!

  The woman’s smile was warm but tired. “Yes. Ci’an has said only a little about you two, which tells me quite a bit. I am Ais’lin Brightfall. I’m pleased you are here, though not that it is now. Tell me, how much have you heard about what happened after the Registry was attacked?”

  Sophia shook her head. She knew they’d destroyed the Broken Sword after she stole it, but that couldn’t be what Ais’lin meant.

  “Los’en was starting rumors about the Templars and I know he started a few fights. There were also some rumors of fighting outside Izel, but I didn’t hear about anything worse than a dozen people or so before, well, six days ago,” Dav admitted.

  He’d clearly heard things Sophia hadn’t, but that made sense. He was the one who’d handled gathering a lot of the supplies they needed, as well as picking up Sophia’s new armor, which looked so similar to her old armor that she was certain the armorsmith had used her old armor as a pattern.

  Ais’lin Brightfall nodded. “It’s worse than a dozen, now. We were overdue for a monster assault, and the timing couldn’t be worse. I don’t know it for certain, but I believe that the Hilt knew it was starting before I did; that would explain why he attacked the Registry when he did.”

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  Sophia frowned. That didn’t make any sense. “Why would he attack the Registry if he knew monsters were coming?”

  Ais’lin grimaced. “So that he could save Izel, of course. Another step in his game; if the Registry didn’t respond to the assault and all of the gates were held by Templar forces, he could petition to be granted lead defense authority in Izel and I’d have a hard time denying him, even if he’s the one that blocked the Registry. After all, if he can defend the city and block the Registry at the same time, he’s obviously the better choice to defend Izel, isn’t he?”

  Sophia frowned. That definitely didn’t make any sense. “But he’s undercutting the defense.”

  Ais’lin shook her head. “He’s powerful, child. He was making a point, that Izel does not need the Registry with the Broken Temple here. It’s likely also why he wouldn’t accept an apology about my brother’s actions; he was positioning himself to take more power. He miscalculated, I think, but it might not have mattered if you hadn’t undercut him by stealing the icon of his temple.”

  Sophia shook her head. She didn’t understand how that could possibly work. “But surely Izel’s Mayor or Lord Chancellor or … whoever…”

  Ais’lin held up a hand. “I rule Izel, Sophia. It falls under my Clan. But I do not rule Izel alone, and for all that Izel is a city of Challenges, that is not all that is here. There are nearly three hundred thousand people in Izel; half are here for the Challenges while the rest call Izel home. That makes the Registry powerful, but with it out of play from the attacks, it is the craftsmen and the landsmen who matter, Professionals, and by and large Izel’s Professionals are strongly drawn to the safety the Broken Temple seems to offer. Or, at least, that they seemed to offer before they faltered over the past few days. Here, watch this is what they see of the Temple now.”

  Ais’lin waved and hand and the air in front of Sophia seemed to waver. When it cleared, she saw a patch of air that showed a view down a snowy mountainside. At first, it looked like bushes peeking up out of the snow, but when the first one blinked it was suddenly obvious that they weren’t bushes, they were frogs. There was an entire horde of giant frogs blanketing a snowy hillside in the image ahead of her.

  Almost as if Ais’lin knew she’d realized what she was looking at, the scene started to move forward quickly. A man in armor charged into the group and scattered those near where he hit their line, killing one as he drove into the group. The others jumped for him, only to be struck immediately by other people in armor supporting the first one.

  “The Templars arrived,” Ais’lin explained. “They support each other well, and if this were simply the frogs, I would ot worry; they attack nearly every winter. But it wasn’t just the frogs.”

  All too soon, there were at least three dozen of the heavily armored people Sophia could now recognize as Templars fighting. They were tiring but holding their own as the horde of gigantic frogs continued. The image sped through hours of fighting in minutes, along with at least two reliefs of the human combatants, then slowed back to realtime just in time for Sophia to see a flash of fur and fangs savage one of the tired Templars.

  Another flashing blur of furred clawed death, then another, blurred in the illusionary image. “Most of them will survive,” Ais’lin commented quietly. “They were not expecting snow panthers. Unlike the frogs, they rarely attack, and never so early in the winter.”

  The image disappeared as Ais’lin lowered her hand. “Certainly they never attack together, yet there is no sign of them fighting each other. Normally, that is what would happen until they are so close that Izel is an irresistible lure. It is not simply the giant frogs and the snow panthers, either; there are a half-dozen other monsters we’ve seen, some of which have never been seen near Izel. This is more than the usual winter wave; something has happened. And that is probably both why the Hilt picked now and how he misjudged the situation; had he known it was this bad, I am certain he would have chosen to wait. I need, Izel needs, everyone who can fight.”

  “We can fight,” Sophia started, only to be met with the slash of a hand from Ais’lin.

  “No, you will not. If you are seen, you who stole the Broken Sword, the Templars will attack you. I would have to guard you if you were to leave the city to fight, and that would be worse than not fighting.” Ais’lin shook her head. “I must end the fighting between the Registry and the Temple. I will not turn over you or my brother to the Temple.”

  Ais’lin grinned at Sophia. It was wide and toothy, a predator’s smile at the thought of prey. “I can, however, make a trade with the Hilt. My brother will leave town, officially to escort his niece, Ci’an, to her brother’s expedition. The Hilt will accept that; he is already in trouble and will take what he can get. He will believe that things will be easier for him without my brother’s presence.”

  “He will be wrong,” Dav concluded for Ais’lin. “And it will get us out of town, where Sophia might be seen.”

  Amy’s mother nodded. “I expected Los’en to take you there in any case; I simply thought it would give me some time to deal with the Hilt. As it is … this will work out well, once we deal with the monsters. Who says that the Templars will not be given dangerous places to hold? They do want glory.”

  Sophia shook her head. She was so glad she didn’t have to deal with politics. It seemed especially bloodthirsty here in the Skylands. Admittedly, Casterville wasn’t any better, with the Commander trying to usurp the leadership by having monsters attack the city, kill people, and terrify those who survived. Maybe politics were bloody all over the Broken Lands.

  “You will leave as soon as you can,” Ais’lin declared. “If you can, tomorrow. I will have Los’en ready; tell me or him if you cannot yet travel. Oh, and before you go, you should see your enemy. This is the Hilt. Avoid him.”

  This is one of the annoying results of writing this as I go - I didn’t remember to drop in the periodic reminders of Physalix that I really SHOULD have. If this were a traditional book, this is the point in the writing process where I’d go back and do that. As is … well, you do remember our not-so-favorite land jellyfish, right?