Fire Prince

  **

  The two were now cut off from the civilized world. Andin stood and looked at where the portal had been just moments ago, “That’s it, there’s no turning back now,” he said with a hollow voice.

  Fake responded ominously, “I’m not sure who is worse off now.”

  Andin held the slimy creature in his hand, “Now we know what were in those eggs.”

  “I know what they are; they’re Void Demons,” said Fake.

  “How can that be?” asked Andin perplexed.

  “I don’t know,” answered Fake.

  The smell of preserving fluid and alcohol wafted up. Many of the specimen jars had shattered during the crossing. “Wait don’t touch it!” warned Andin. The warning came too late; Fake had already picked up the Divisa segment. Fake howled as its thin needles pierced his hand.

  The illusionist held his hand in a tight fist fighting the pain. “Wow; imagine a live one,” he winced in amazement.

  “This won’t be easy,” said Andin solemnly. Andin pat the ground beneath where the portal had been, “Where did you bury it?” he asked.

  Clutching his hand, Fake tapped a spot with his foot, “Here.”

  Andin removed the soil in layers until he found his crystal, now filled with black smoke. “Interesting,” he said as he hung it around his neck. “It worked?” asked Fake.

  “Certainly looks like it,” said Andin.

  Fake examined the Seed shard for himself.

  The portal site was unfamiliarly empty. Andin’s cabin on the hill was the only structure that remained. They salvaged what samples they could and headed up. “How’s your hand?” asked Andin. Fake shook it, “Still stings a bit.” Andin lit the lamps and they went to work.

  “I wish there was more,” said a disappointed Andin.

  “That’s everything,” explained Fake. “The Academy Archives; the Naval Archives, which wasn’t easy to get by the way; each of the seven major island chain’s Archives; and even the Express’s private collections. For a nine hundred year threat people sure are keen to try to ignore it.” Andin shrugged in agreement, he didn’t understand either.

  “We’ll get through all of this in a week,” added the fire prince.

  “I’m more worried about the exit strategy,” said Fake.

  “I’m open to alternative suggestions.”

  “Commission a void ship; sail in, chop him up, sail out,” fantasized Fake.

  “Enemy or not the Brothers would never endorse a mission to try to slay an immortal.”

  “What about the other gods?” asked Fake now curious.

  “I can’t know about the other immortals, but for what it’s worth I’m still surprised at my father’s message about Garruk,” answered Andin. They returned to their studies and tried to steel their hearts. Fake read an account of a group of Sadists who managed to commandeer a vessel and sail to a small group of islands south of Pirenna.

  The Sadists overpowered the islanders and fed off their suffering for weeks before they were discovered and slain by the Navy. Not one islander died at the hands of the adept torturers. Not one islander gave any statement or looked into the eyes of another after. Not one islander refused the deadly poison offered by the chieftain after their freedom.

  All of the accounts were like this: brief, tragic, and uninformative. Fake and Andin read everything they had twice. They learned little. Two weeks later Andin shut his book and eyed his friend, “Let’s go.”

  Fake had been waiting for this, “The longer we’re there the longer we can plan with real information – and find a chance to rebury the Seed shard.”

  Neither slept that night.