Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He was cold.

This was notable, in his opinion, primarily because, prior to that point, he couldn't recall being much of anything at all. He had a name—he was fairly certain it was his name—and he knew he was from elsewhere, possibly an entire other planet, but did it matter?

He really was very, very cold.

"Oy."

Opening his eyes, he was confronted with a sapphire-blue sky, a brilliant disk of sun, and a great deal of ginger beard. Something prodded him in the shoulder and he swatted at it, sitting up with a groan.

"Geddoff, Honeydew," he grumbled, and then frowned, bemused.

"You know my name!" the ginger beard exclaimed—it was attached to a burly, stocky man in a viking helmet, who at the moment was not wearing a shirt.

"I . . . do," he realized. "And I'm—"

"Xephos?" Honeydew guessed.

"Yeah, that!" he cried, a spark of hope igniting in a flash of recognition. "We're—we're friends, yeah? You and me?"

"I think so," the other confirmed, scratching his beard. "Though I'll be honest, I don't know bugger-all else."

"Same for me, I'm afraid," Xephos lamented. Creakily, he got to his feet, and was shocked to find that his belly-button was on level with Honeydew's nose. "Good God, I'm tall!"

"Are you?" Honeydew inquired, squinting up at him with piggy eyes. "Think you might be only a bit tall. I am a dwarf, after all."

"That's . . . right, yeah. Of Kas . . . Chasm. . . ."

"Khaz Modan?"

He clicked his fingers and pointed at Honeydew. "That's it! That's the one."

"And you're from space, yeah?"

"Think so." Xephos shivered, looking around. They seemed to be on some sort of ice-shelf, heavily snowed under. Nearby, however, the land rose up, and Xephos could see crags of rock protruding out from under the thick white blanket. He looked back to Honeydew. "Aren't you cold?"

"What, me? Nah, I'm all right. Take a lot more'n this to chill a dwarf." To emphasize his point, he stomped hard on the ice with one steel-toed boot.

With a sharp crack, the ice gave way, and Honeydew plunged into the frigid water below with a shriek.

"Oh, God!" Xephos cried, throwing himself full-length on the ice and reaching a hand into the hole. "Grab on! I'll pull you out!"

"All right, I'm cold now!" Honeydew squeaked, grabbing hold of Xephos's arm in a bone-crushing grip. "Very cold! Get me out, please!"

Xephos wriggled backwards along the ice, hauling Honeydew along as best he could. Rather than pulling the dwarf out of the water, however, this only served to break a lengthening trench in the ice.

"Oh God, I'm gonna die!" Honeydew cried, sputtering in the icy water.

"You're not, you're—look, it's fine, you'll be fine, just give me a second, all right?"

"I'm gonna be a dwarf-sicle! I'm gonna be a museum exhibit!"

"Would you quit whining and help?"

Honeydew frowned through his beard and kicked his feet, significantly reducing the amount of dragging Xephos had to do. It wasn't long before they reached the shore and collectively managed to extract Honeydew from the freezing water. There were already icicles forming in his beard.

"I hope you're bloody happy," he grumbled, folding his arms and shivering.

"Come on, friend," Xephos said, resting a heavy hand on the dwarf's helmet. "Let's get a roof over our heads and get a fire going, shall we?"

"Yeah, all right," Honeydew agreed grudgingly.

Together, they forged out into the snow, side by side.

Chapter Text

"See ya later, shiplord! There we go."

Xephos shook his head, chuckling. "Okay, good. Let's find an animal."

"An animal," Honeydew repeated, splashing down into the newly-formed river. He waded out onto the grass, apparently unconcerned about the fact that he was now soaked. "What d'you think that means, anyway? Like a horse, or something?"

Carefully picking his way across the water, Xephos blew out a breath throw his lips. "Knowing Swampy? Could be anything."

"What, like a . . . frog?"

"What—why would it be a frog?"

"I don't know, Xephos, why wouldn't it be a frog?"

"Because we're going into a desert," he pointed out. "God, all these trees in the way, can't see a thing. Not that I'm complaining." He cast a wary glance back at the enormous, groaning tree at the center of the walled oasis. It had already been hidden from view by the thick canopy overhead.

"Maybe we should call?" Honeydew suggested. Without waiting for an answer, he cupped his meaty hands on other side of his mouth and shrieked out, "Soo-eeee! Pig pig pig pig! Here piggy!"

"What on earth are you doing?" Xephos asked, fighting back laughter.

"Callin' for pigs," he answered, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Xephos snorted and clapped a heavy hand on Honeydew's helm. "Come on, friend. Let's check by the exit, shall we?"

"Oh. Yeah, that'd make sense." He tromped forward stolidly, and Xephos ambled along beside him. "What d'you figure this place is, anyway?"

"It's an oasis."

"Yeah, I know it's a bloody oasis, ya eejit. I meant, how come it's all . . . magic-y, and stuff. And why're there walls?"

"To keep the sand out, I suppose," Xephos mused. "Swampy did say it'd been passed down from his ancestors. It's probably been here quite some time."

Honeydew shuddered. "Uggh. Sorry. I just thought about Swampy's mum and dad havin' a go at it."

"Oh, God, Honeydew, why would you even mention that?"

"I'm sorry!" the dwarf snarled. "It just—popped into my head, all right? Although, come to think of it, you think he popped out like that? With the beard and everything?"

Xephos laughed. "With the—with the hippy thing, like, his first words were hey, man."

"Awwh, yeah, but we shouldn't laugh, really, should we. He's only doin' his best."

"Of course he is, of course."

"And he's only a bit mad."

They reached the exit shortly after. Stepping out into the full, blinding desert sunlight, it took Xephos a few moments of blinking and shading his eyes to regain his ability to see.

"Ah," he stated. "Well that's . . . different."

"What in the hell are those?" the dwarf demanded, pointing an accusing finger at the tawny, cud-chewing lumps in the sand. The lumps regarded him with bright bovine eyes, swiveling their long necks to better see him.

"I think they're . . . camels?" Xephos guessed. "Or—they might be dromedaries, I'm not entirely clear on what the difference is."

Honeydew burst out into a full-bellied laugh and darted across the sand to the nearest camel, flinging his stubby arms around its neck.

"Awwh, they're precious! Look at the eyelashes on 'em, Xeph!"

His unfortunate victim bowed its head and lipped inquisitively at his helmet. It was drooling slightly.

"Don't harass the poor things," Xephos admonished.

"I'm not harassin', look at her, she loves it!"

The camel had discovered the tuft of ginger hair poking out from under Honeydew's helm and was making a determined effort to eat it. Xephos approached the other animal cautiously, picking his way across the soft sand. Its face was on eye-level with him, even though its legs were folded entirely underneath it. It leaned its head forward and snuffled at his chin, then made a gentle attempt to eat his beard.

"Quit that!" he scolded, stumbling back.

"She likes you," Honeydew cooed. He was petting his camel lovingly while it snacked on his hair.

"Would you just get on the bloody camel?" Xephos demanded. Still on edge, he sidled around to where a woven saddle was draped over the animal's back. As though picking his way through a field of cactus, he lifted one leg over the camel, which had turned its head all the way around to watch him with its dewy brown eyes. He wriggled one foot into the rope stirrup, then the other, doing his best to not touch the camel itself at all.

"Who-oah!"

Xephos looked up just in time to see Honeydew being hoisted into the air on the back of his camel. His feet did not reach the stirrups, and as such he was laid out full-length on his stomach on the thing's back, arms thrown around its neck. The camel itself appeared to be constructed mainly of knees.

"All right there, friend?" he asked.

Before Honeydew could reply, Xephos found himself suddenly flung off-balance, hurled forward onto the back of the camel as it hefted itself to its feet. His breath went out in a huff when the camel's spine knocked uncomfortably hard against a very sensitive part of his anatomy.

"Little warning would've been nice," he wheezed.

Honeydew was laughing so hard he seemed incapable of getting upright. He lay draped on the camel, jiggling like a pudding in an earthquake, rendered helpless by his titanic guffaws. Xephos glared at him with watering eyes, digging his heels into the camel's flanks, hoping it had been trained to respond like a horse. With all the grace of a sack of coathangers on stilts, the camel started forward at a rolling amble. Xephos slapped the rump of Honeydew's camel as he went past.

The creature turned its placid eyes on him and pulled its cleft lips back, showcasing large, flat teeth. It only started into motion once Xephos's camel had gone past, following at the same rocking pace. Honeydew continued laughing, and Xephos slouched against his camel, grumbling under his breath.

Eventually, consumed with boredom, he searched the camel's saddlebags. He had expected to find water, food, perhaps even weapons of some kind.

He had not expected the book.

It was old, leather-bound, and thin. The pages were filled with cramped writing, many of them illegible. The final entry, however, was pristine.

"Friend," he started, "have a look at this."

"Huh?"

"It's a book," Xephos explained.

"Where'd you find a book?"

"In the saddlebags, here."

"Why've you got saddlebags and I haven't?"

He rolled his eyes. "I don't know, Honeydew. Does it matter?"

"Was there anything else in there, or just the book?"

"Just the book, I'm afraid. Care to read it?"

"Nah. I'm knackered, me. You can have a go."

"All right then," Xephos acknowledged, and cleared his throat. Bringing his nose close to the final page, he began to read.

These walls are old.

We have kept them, repaired them, shored them up and strengthened them, and we have kept the sands out for nearly twenty generations now. Perhaps it is the walls, or perhaps the ancient tenet still carved into the wall of the Old One's chamber beneath the great tree. 'Do not venture out,' it says, 'for you will find only death.'

These walls are old.

My grandfather told me stories of the Old One, which were passed down to him by his grandfather, and his grandfather before that. We do not know why he came here, or when—only that it was before the sands. We know he built the walls, and spoke of a terrible loss. He warned us not to leave this oasis. Many listened, but I fear the tales have grown thin with all this telling. Young Swampy wishes to leave, to seek what remains of the world, to grow his power elsewhere, outside of the sands. We have told him there is nothing outside of the sands. We told him that it has been too long, that the sands have surely devoured the world. He does not listen. He will go, soon. He will not come back.

These walls are old.

I felt the evil, when it rose. I felt it tremble through the foundations of the earth, felt it seek this place and find it. I felt its attention, felt its wrath—I hid in the chamber of the Old One, and I felt that evil look upon me.

I felt it pass.

It was searching for the Old One. I cannot say how I know, but I do know. 'Do not venture out.' He must have come from somewhere. He must have known what was buried in the sands. It was not madness that scratched crude, grasping hands into the walls of his chamber, it was not madness that wrote the warning. He built the walls and kept us safe for centuries.

But these walls are so very, very old.

—Peaty Bogbeard

"Peaty Bogbeard," Honeydew mused, "d'you think that might be Swampy's dad? He did say something about young Swampy, didn't he."

"Could be," Xephos allowed. "I wonder who the Old One is. Clearly he knew about the robot, but . . . twenty generations, my God."

"Pretty clear the evil he was talkin' about was Israphel."

Xephos glared at him. "I thought we agreed we were going to be careful about saying that name."

"Oh. Right. Err, the pale-faced man, there, is that better?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Anyway. What d'you think all this means?"

"Dunno. Maybe Is—er, the pale-faced man is a lot older than we thought? Anyway, at least we know that place really is Swampy's ancestral whatever, so maybe his herbs will actually do something."

"Yeah," Xephos muttered, only half-listening. The book seemed oddly heavy in his hands, and something in the back of his head was stirring uncomfortably. He shook his head to rid himself of the feeling and stuffed the book back into the saddlebag.

"We'll work it out later," he declared. "For now, we've got a professor to save."

Professor Webley was, astonishingly, both still alive and in the same place they'd left him, which Xephos considered to be a small miracle. He was, however, asleep, and snoring with as much stentorian gusto as one would expect from a man whose normal speaking voice could be heard from half a mile away. As Xephos picked his way down the sandy slope that spilled into the hollow steel head of the robot, he snorted awake, blinking rapidly. Behind him, several more of the flickering green screens had come to life, scrolling methodically through long columns of code.

"Ah, you're back!" Webley cried. Sleep did not appear to have done him much good at all, as he was still as grey and haggard as when they'd left him. "Have you found a healer?"

"Er, sort of," Xephos hedged, fidgeting. His groin had still not fully recovered from the camel ride. "Honeydew, have you got the—the healing herbs?"

"Yep! Got 'em right here." He skidded into the room, patting his hip satchel. "And the pipe. Might even have something to light it—yep, there we are, knew I had a flint and steel in there somewhere!"

"Healing herbs?" the professor demanded, disdainful. "Are you sure that will work?"

Xephos shared a quick glance with Honeydew. The dwarf pulled a face and shrugged.

"Er, yeah! Yeah, we're sure. C'mon, friend, pass it on over. You'll be right as rain in no time, professor, don't worry." He gestured for Honeydew to give Webley the herbs and various implements, which he did with alacrity.

While Webley fumbled to stuff the pipe and light it, Honeydew pulled Xephos aside.

"What do we do if it don't work?" the dwarf asked.

Xephos shrugged. "Keep looking? I don't see there's much else we can do. It'd be a hassle, but . . . well, better than leaving him here to die."

"Yeah, but keep looking where? There's nothin' out here but sand and Swampy. Even if the herbs do fix him up, how're we gonna get out of this desert?"

"Well, we . . . we've got the maps, haven't we," Xephos pointed out, shifting uncomfortably. "I'm sure we'll be fine."

Honeydew frowned at him. "You keep sayin' that," he said, "but I've yet to see any evidence."

"We've made it this far," he retaliated. "We've got the camels, too. And we can't be that far from the wall, and even if we are—even if we are, we'll just follow the rails back." He nodded, satisfied with his answer. "No problem."

"Yeah, right," the dwarf grumbled, folding his arms.

Just then, the thick, heady smell of burning herbs reached them, and Xephos pulled his shirt up over his mouth and nose. Professor Webley was puffing on the pipe contemplatively, his bloodshot eyes nearly crossed as he looked down at it.

"Is it working?" Honeydew inquired, peering at the professor.

"God, it smells awful," Xephos commented, grimacing.

"I think," Webley began, "I think it's working!" He took another few deep puffs and blew out a cloud of purplish smoke. "Hah hah! Hah! It's working!"

"Y'think it's actually working, or he's just, er, y'know, feelin' the non-medicinal properties?" Honeydew muttered to Xephos.

"I think either way we should put him on a camel, in case it wears off. He can ride yours, you're not heavy."

"Excuse you, I am a dwarf." Honeydew thumped himself on the chest twice. "Skin made of iron, steel in our bones! He can ride with you, you're practically a twig."

"You—!"

"I think," Webley interrupted, holding out the pipe and admiring it, "we should be on our way! We've got to shut down these robots, posthaste! And I think I know just the man for the job!"

"Oh?" Xephos queried. "And, er, would you know how to find this man?"

"Yes, yes! Of course, dear boy!" Webley crowed. He levered himself to his feet, suddenly looking ten years younger. He clapped a hand on Xephos's shoulder with enough force to make him flinch. "Brilliant young lad! He was my student, you know—couldn't be prouder! Surpassed all of us in the end—or, well, I suppose he would have, if he'd been able to stick to one field! Hah hah!"

"Yeah? Sounds like a, er, an exceptional . . . man," Xephos stammered. He turned to Honeydew and pled through gritted teeth, "Get him off of me!"

Honeydew grinned at him and winked.

"Come on, professor!" he cried, scrambling up the sandy slope. "You can ride with Xephos, he's the best at directions!"

"I hate you," Xephos said, glaring at the dwarf.

He only grinned wider and called, "Follow me, I'll lead the way!"

Webley flung an arm around Xephos's shoulders and dragged him slantwise up the slope, out into the blazing desert sun. Thankfully, the camels were still there, once again folded against the ground and placidly chewing their cud. It took several minutes of concerted effort to get Webley on the camel—and to get him to stay on the camel—before they could set out. In the end, Xephos had to sit behind the man, squashed against him by the slope of the camel's back, arms looped around his waist to keep him upright. Honeydew was tickled pink by the entire affair.

"Professor," Xephos piped up, desirous of anything to take his mind off the overpowering herb-smell that still clung to Webley. "This student of yours."

"Ex-student!" Webley corrected jovially.

"Er, right. You think he can work out how to stop the robots?"

"Absolutely! Lad's a genius—bit scatterbrained at times, but a genius nonetheless!"

"Fantastic," Xephos replied. He shot a barbed look at Honeydew. "It'll be nice to have someone intelligent to talk to."

"Oy!" Honeydew objected. "Don't see you shutting down the bloody robots."

Xephos leered at him before turning his attention back to Webley.

"So where will we find this student—sorry, ex-student of yours?"

"Ah, an excellent question! No other place than the grand city of Icaria, my boy!" Webley laughed again, then pointed. "We'll take a left at that campsite up there. Shouldn't be long!"

"Right," Honeydew commented, rolling his eyes. "And what's this fellow's name? Just curious." He put a hand against his cheek and mouthed to Xephos, "In case the silly bugger dies before we get there."

"Not to worry!" Webley assured him. "Curiosity is a fine trait!"

Xephos pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. It was going to be, he felt, an excessively long journey.

"Yes, yes. The name?"

"Hector!" the professor proclaimed, as though the name was a triumph in and of itself. "Doctor Lalnable Hector!"

Chapter Text

Of all the things Xephos had expected to see upon entering the dim and ritzy tower, a blond giant slumped over his own table and surrounded by a vast multitude of empty beer bottles had not been among them.

"Oh dear," Webley commented. "Er, Dr. Hector? Halloo?"

The sleeping man snorted, stirring slightly. He resembled nothing so much as a huge dog, passed out from too much playtime.

"This is encouraging," Honeydew grumbled, folding his arms. "Maybe we can stop the robots by getting 'em drunk."

Xephos slapped the dwarf's shoulder with the back of his hand. "Don't be rude," he admonished. "Besides, who knows, it could work."

Webley was prodding the unconscious doctor with one finger, still attempting to verbally coax him into waking.

With a sniff, Honeydew declared, "Right, that's it," and marched to the table. He reeled back one steel-toed boot, took aim, and kicked the entire table clear out from underneath the doctor.

"Aaah!" the man cried, toppling to the floor, while the empty bottles rolled off the table and shattered.

"Morning!" Honeydew crowed, planting his fists on his hips. "Dr. Hector, are you? Our Webley here thinks you're useful!"

"Oh, for the love of—I am so sorry," Xephos effused, helping the doctor to his feet. He was nearly as tall as Xephos, and a good deal younger than expected—likely no older than twenty-five, and baby-faced at that.

"Heuh?" the doctor intoned, rubbing at his head, leaving his ash-blond hair sticking up at odd angles. "Wha. . . ?" He peered around at the room, blinking owlishly.

"He's a dwarf," Xephos clarified. "No manners, I'm afraid."

Honeydew shrugged. "Got the job done, though, didn't I."

"Oh," Dr. Hector remarked. "Er . . . hallo." He waved sheepishly at Professor Webley. "Hi, professor. Who're . . . er, these?"

"'Scuse me?" Honeydew inquired. "Sorry, what was that you just called us? These? Xeph, are we a these?"

"What's got into you?" he wondered. "Just—calm down for a bit, all right?"

"Yeah, but we're not a these. Why don't you tell him not to be rude? He's rude." The dwarf sniffed again. "I don't like him."

"They're the great heroes of Minecraftia," Webley explained, somewhat lamely. "We actually—or, well, they—could use your help."

"Oh. Ah, yeah, sure, all right." He turned to Xephos and Honeydew. "What d'you need?"

Xephos ogled at him. "Are—are you sure? Just like that?"

The doctor shrugged. "Got nothing better to do. Might be interesting." He frowned. "Actually, er, I could use your help with something first. Just a sort of . . . little thing, shouldn't take long."

"Uh-huh," Honeydew intoned. "What thing would that be?"

Dr. Hector rubbed the back of his head and looked away, sighing.

"Er, I need you to find somebody. Or—help me find somebody, I s'pose. Lives somewhere round here, I think. Outside town, as well. Does magic-stuff. Bit odd, though."

"Yeah? What d'you need him for?"

He smiled sheepishly. "He, erm, might have stolen, ah, everything I own."

"What, everything?" Honeydew cried. "You've still got this bloody castle, haven't you?"

"Well, no, not everything everything, just—just a lot of important stuff. Look, it's not really an issue, there's just some things I need if I'm going to be any help, yeah?"

"I hate to ask," Xephos put in, "but why do you need our help?"

"I did mention he does magic-stuff, yeah?"

"What, like, explosions?" Honeydew guessed.

"Foresty-stuff?" Xephos suggested.

"Umm. No."

"What then?"

"Well, er, last time I saw him—ah, apart from when he, y'know, sort of robbed me blind—he was . . . it's sort of hard to explain?"

"Give it a go," Honeydew encouraged.

"Best way I can describe it, er . . . he was ice-skating."

"Oh, yes, that's very impressive," the dwarf commented. "I can see why you'd need legendary heroes to help with that."

"Honeydew," Xephos warned.

"Oy," Dr. Hector objected, flushing, "let me finish. He was ice-skating in the jungle. I was out pickin' up—stuff, y'know. Whole bloody rainforest snowed under, and that bastard bloody ice-skating in the middle of it." His flush deepened somewhat and he looked away again. "Not that it wasn't, y'know, fun. Just. Don't fancy the idea of tickin' him off."

"So," Xephos said, "you want us to help you find this—person, and get back what he stole from you."

"Yeah."

"And once we do, you'll help us deactivate the evil robot that'll destroy the world if it's turned on all the way."

Dr. Hector's head snapped around, his eyes bugging. "The what?"

"You know," Webley commented, "I think I'll just be going now, shall I?"

"You found it?" the doctor demanded, rounding on him. Xephos took a half-step back, his hand moving to the hilt of his sword of its own volition.

"Not—precisely, no," Webley replied. He was sweating noticeably.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was trapped! Imprisoned! And—and before that, kidnapped! If I could have called for help, believe me, I would have!"

"Right, okay, forget the stuff," Dr. Hector decided. "I'll take whatever I've got, there's probably some spare stuff in the basement. Either of you know how to wire explosives? Nah, never mind, 'course you don't. 'S fine, I'll teach you when we get there."

"I—er, okay?" Xephos stammered, bewildered. "Listen, Dr. Hector, I—"

"Eugh," the doctor said, screwing up his face in disgust. "Don't call me that, only Webley calls me that. Just Lalna's fine. C'mon, haven't got all day! Oh, and if either of you's got anything to eat, I'm bloody famished." And he strode out the front door, fiddling with his lab coat.

Honeydew and Xephos gaped at each other for a moment.

"He, ah," Webley began, "he's a tad bit excitable."

"Is he?" Honeydew inquired innocently. "I never would have guessed."

"Wow," Lalna breathed, for about the millionth time. The only part of him currently visible was his right leg, sticking out from underneath a bank of computers and jiggling with excitement.

"Weren't we supposed to be destroying these?" Honeydew asked Xephos, glaring at the supine scientist.

"You can't!" Lalna called out. "This is—God, this is incredible! I've never seen anything like it, it's . . . this'll change the world."

"Yeah, by destroyin' it," the dwarf pointed out. "Don't know if you'd noticed, but that countdown clock is, actually, counting down."

"Pfft, nah, don't worry about that. I'll pull the plug before it gets too far. Just—this thing! It's amazing! The stuff I could make, this is brilliant."

"D'you wanna pull him out, or should I?" Honeydew inquired.

"No—well, I think we should let him look," he replied. "I mean, we've got time. A little time, anyway. I'm sure it'll be fine."

"The world. Is going. To end. Explain to me exactly what's fine about that."

"Look, we don't know the world will end. Just that, you know, that's what we've been told. Take everything with a grain of salt. Besides, if this really is as . . . important as he says—"

"It is!"

Xephos scowled. "Thanks. Anyway. If it really is that important, we could do some real good!"

"Y'know what'd be good, Xephos? Not ending the bloody world."

He waved a hand. "It's fine. We've got—" He glanced at the countdown clock, still ticking away inexorably towards zero. "Er. Three . . . minutes."

There was a loud thunk from under the computer bank.

"What?" Lalna cried. He wriggled out from beneath the steel casings, smeared liberally with dark grease and freckled with sand. "Three—three bloody minutes? Why didn't you say anything?"

"You said you could shut it down!" Xephos retorted.

"Not in three bloody minutes I can't!"

"Right, okay," Honeydew declared, lifting his chin. "I've got a bag full of dynamite and a load of redstone. If you two can stop being thick for three seconds, we can blow this place to hell."

"You can't," Lalna snarled, rounding on him. Xephos's legs carried him in front of the dwarf almost of their own accord, and he found his sword in his hand.

"Back up," he snapped.

Lalna's eyes nearly crossed as he stared at the point of the sword. Slowly, he raised his hands and took a step back.

"All right," he said, his voice a soothing murmur. "Don't have to get violent, I'm not gonna hurt 'im."

"Damn right you're not," Honeydew barked, axe in hand. "I'll chop your fuckin' legs off."

"Shut it down, Lalna," Xephos ordered. "Now."

"I told you, I can't."

"Honeydew? Get that dynamite out. We might be able to at least stop it working in time."

Lalna's eyes were darting, and Xephos side-stepped as Honeydew went for his bag, keeping himself between the two of them.

"Right, where do I put all this?" Honeydew asked briskly.

"Under there," Xephos suggested, tilting his head towards the computer banks that, until very recently, had contained Lalna. "We'll run the redstone outside."

"Don't," Lalna pled. "Just—let me try. Let me try, all right?"

"No," he retorted. "I'm not taking chances with this, not now."

"It'll be fine, he said," Honeydew grumbled, shoving bundles of explosives into the space beneath the computer banks. "Let him look, he said. What could possibly go wrong, he said. Eatin' your words now, ain't you, friend."

"This is not the time for that," Xephos cried, exasperated, and glared at the dwarf's hunched form.

The moment he took his eyes off of Lalna, the scientist struck him in the arm and sent his sword flying. Before Xephos could even process the action, Lalna slammed full-force into him, driving his shoulder into Xephos's chest and knocking him flat. Xephos wheezed, scrambling to get any of his limbs underneath him despite the fact that he seemed to have forgotten how to breathe. There was a loud grunt, and then the meaty sound of boots being repeatedly struck against flesh.

"Put me down!" Honeydew roared. "Put me down, you great bloody git!"

Xephos finally managed to get his feet underneath him and lunged for Lalna, who had an arm around Honeydew's neck and was holding him nearly a yard off the ground. The dwarf was kicking him repeatedly in the thighs and clawing bloody gouges into his arm. Lalna must have seen Xephos get to his feet, because he whirled on the spot and threw Honeydew directly into him, bowling them both to the ground.

"All right, shitlord, that's it!" Honeydew growled, picking himself up and quivering with rage. "Bloody nobody tosses a—"

The last of his sentence was cut off when the countdown clock hit zero, and the single loudest noise Xephos had ever heard screamed out of the robot. It shook the ground, pounded in his chest and drove daggers into his ears. All three occupants of the robot's head had thrown their hands over their ears and were curled on the ground, writhing. Xephos knew he was screaming only by the feeling of it against the back of his throat—he could hear nothing but the terrible howl of the robot.

And as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped.

The silence rang loud against Xephos's ears, and he slowly became aware of his own breathing. He uncurled himself off the floor, trembling—near him, Honeydew and Lalna were doing the same.

"Is it . . . over?" Honeydew quavered, his voice coming muffled through Xephos's damaged ears.

"Seems like it?" Lalna guessed. "Well, that . . . I mean, that wasn't so bad. World's not ended, anyway."

Xephos glared at him. "No thanks to you."

Lalna had just opened his mouth to reply when the noise started again. Xephos clapped his hands over his ears and made for the door, but he couldn't seem to find his footing, left dizzy and discombobulated by the terrible noise. He dropped to his knees again, gritting his teeth. The room seemed to be growing cold, the temperature plummeting unnaturally—it was only when he managed to crack open his eyes and saw frost sprouting from the floor that he realized the sensation was in no way illusory.

The noise died out again, and Xephos forced himself to look up, his shallow breathing making clouds in the frigid air.

Standing in the doorway, long and tall and dark, with ice-blue eyes that cast cold light over half of an austere face, was a man.

"You!" Lalna exclaimed. "What the bloody hell are you doing here?"

The man's head tilted slightly, and his eyes narrowed. When he spoke, his voice was soft and foreign.

"You called," he said. "I came."

"The fuck?" Honeydew wondered. No sooner had the last syllable left his lips than the monstrous howling of the robot began again. Once more, Xephos was forced to huddle on the floor with his hands over his ears until the noise subsided.

"You called," the stranger said again, his voice flat and hollow. "I came."

Xephos was properly shivering by then, and his breath was freezing to his beard. Honeydew was sprouting icicles at an alarming rate, and Lalna's lips were turning blue.

"Well then make yourself bloody useful and turn that damn thing off!" Xephos snapped.

The man looked over at him, and Xephos felt an entirely different sort of chill run down his spine. The glowing eyes were cold and alien, and whatever mouth might have been underneath the man's scarf did not move when he spoke.

"As you say," he acknowledged, and crossed to the bank of computers in three long, floating strides. His feet left brittle white prints on the steel floor, and the ends of his scarf drifted behind him like delicate wings. He considered the computers for a moment, head tilted curiously to the side, then reached up a hand and pressed his palm to the nearest screen.

Something concussive shivered through the entire structure, and all the screens went white with frost. The hum and whir of machinery sputtered and died, leaving only the crackling quiet of a deep winter's night.

The stranger pulled back his hand and stared at it, clearly puzzled. He blinked a couple of times and turned, slowly.

"Er," he began, "what . . . just happened?"

"Rythian, you son of a bitch," Lalna breathed, getting shakily to his feet. "Where's my goddamn alchemical chest?"

The stranger—Rythian—yelped in alarm, leapt a good three feet off the ground, and vanished suddenly in a puff of purple sparks.

Chapter Text

There was a quiet vwip, and the man called Rythian reappeared on the other side of the room, hands over his head, one leg pulled up nearly to his chest, in what was quite possibly the most juvenile defensive stance Xephos had ever seen.

"How did you get here?" Rythian cried, his voice squeaking.

"How did you get here?" Lalna retaliated.

"I don't know! Where is here!"

Xephos and Honeydew glanced at each other, and Xephos pulled a face.

"A, er, giant robot in the middle of the desert?" Honeydew suggested.

Rythian yelped again and vwipped out of existence, reappearing behind Lalna in a shower of purple sparks.

"Who're they? What're they doing here?" he demanded. His eyes were wide and bright.

"Geddoff," Lalna grumbled, shrugging his arm out of Rythian's grasp. "These are Honeydew and Xephos. Legendary heroes of Minecraftia. Apparently."

"Ooh," Rythian cooed, seemingly overawed. He dodged around Lalna and swiftly crossed to Honeydew, crouching down in front of him to put their eyes on the level. His head tilted to the side as he considered the dwarf.

"Is he—?" Xephos began, but Lalna held up a hand and winked. Xephos scowled, but said nothing.

"Why are you so small?" Rythian inquired.

"Oh, for the love of—you can't just ask people why they're small!"

Rythian looked over his shoulder at Lalna. "Why not?"

"Because it's rude."

"But he's clearly small. He must know he's small."

"Yeah, I'm sure he does. That's why it's rude."

"Oh." He turned back to Honeydew. "Sorry."

"Nah, 's fine." He thumped himself on the chest. "I'm a proud dwarf of Khaz Modan!"

"Ooh," Rythian said again, obviously fascinated. "Are there lots of dwarves? Are you all so small?"

"Ryth, you're an idiot," Lalna sighed. Rythian turned and gaped at him, his face the picture of injury. Lalna rolled his eyes. "I'm teasing."

The mage sagged with relief. "Oh. Good!" He stood swiftly and flowed over to Xephos, circling him, scrutinizing him. "Why are you so tall?" he inquired.

"I—excuse me?" Xephos stammered. "Why am I—I'm barely as tall as you!"

"No, 's a fair question," Honeydew pointed out. "Why are you so tall? Is it 'cause you're from space?"

"You're from space?" Rythian exclaimed, delighted.

"Fuck's sake, Ryth, leave the poor men alone."

"Why? They're interesting. I love them."

Xephos sputtered, looking to Honeydew for assistance, but the dwarf was blushing and smiling into his beard. Xephos batted at the mage as he would a bothersome moth.

"Look, just—what on earth did you do? And why are you here?"

Rythian drifted back a step, considering Xephos seriously.

"I don't know," he said frankly. His eyes went mirror-flat for a moment, and he repeated in that same hollow voice, "You called. I came." Then he shook himself, and shrugged sheepishly. "That's all I know."

"So, hang on a minute," Honeydew began, frowning. "This thing here said it was s'posed to call the dragons."

"Did—did it?" Rythian inquired, his eyes wide. "That's funny. There aren't any dragons here. In Minecraftia. Right now. How old did you say this thing is?"

"The screen said something like, two hundred thousand days since last combat operation," Lalna offered. "So . . . six hundred years? Give or take?"

"Oh," Rythian commented, "not terribly long then." Upon noticing that everyone in the room was staring at him, he hastily amended, "Terribly long. That—that is terribly long."

"He really is a bit odd, isn't he," Honeydew muttered to Xephos.

"That's an understatement," he replied under his breath. Raising his voice, he asked Rythian, "So what's with the, er, freezing stuff?"

"Freezing stuff?"

Xephos gestured to the icy computer bank. Rythian nodded.

"Ah, that. Right. Ah, don't . . . don't worry about that, it's not important. Just something I've been working on recently."

"Oh, well, if that's all," Honeydew grumbled. "Thank God we didn't piss 'im off, otherwise we'd be ice-skating straight to hell."

Rythian laughed; a bright, silver sound, almost childlike.

"No no," he assured the dwarf. "If you'd angered me, I'd pull out your lungs and gift them to you, and you would breathe with your hands for the rest of your life."

Once again, all three occupants of the room stared at him in stunned silence.

"Uh," Lalna began.

"Was that too honest?" Rythian worried, fiddling with his own fingers.

"A bit, yeah," he replied faintly.

"Sorry. Um, let's just say you'd know if I were angry. There, that—that sounds better." He turned an appealing look on Lalna. "Does it?"

"Bit vague, sort of menacing, but . . . better, yeah."

Rythian slumped. "Right. Got it."

"No, but seriously," Xephos cut in, rather miffed at going ignored for so long, "where did you learn how to do that?"

The mage shot him a quizzical look. "Learn it?"

"Yeah, that's what I asked. Where and how?"

Blushing, Rythian looked away and rubbed the back of his head. "I'd . . . rather not say? It's a little personal."

"What, did you have a wild night of passion with the bloody ice-queen?" Honeydew snorted. Rythian flushed more deeply and mumbled something into his mask, fidgeting.

"You what?" Lalna demanded, eyes bugging out.

"I said, Winter isn't a queen!" Rythian shot back.

"Winter?" Xephos repeated. "Like, the entire season?"

The glare Rythian turned on him lowered his core body temperature by several degrees.

"Like the god," he stated icily. "And he is not a gentle lover."

"O-oh," Xephos said, his words sticking in his throat. "All . . . all right, then."

Rythian was looking at him oddly, every ounce of joviality gone, replaced by a cold and subtle menace.

"You're . . . familiar," he murmured, his voice gone flat and alien. "I wasn't looking before, but now. . . . Where have I seen you before?"

"Nowhere?" Xephos guessed, discomfited by the mage's mercurial moods.

"You would think," Rythian agreed. "No one should be familiar. But you are. Where have I seen you before?"

"I really don't know," he assured him. "And you are, actually, creeping me out."

"Yeah, Ryth, you should stop," Lalna said, putting a hand on the mage's shoulder.

"He," Rythian stated slowly, "has been playing with Hellgates." He brightened suddenly, as though coming back to life. "That explains it!"

"Can we—can we leave?" Honeydew asked Xephos. "He's ah, he's creepy."

"He's definitely that, friend," Xephos confirmed.

"Sorry," Rythian apologized, wincing. "I don't mean to be. I'm—new here."

Honeydew raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? New to what, the planet?"

"I think so, yes," he said, brow furrowed. "I remember . . . a portal, I think. My arm wouldn't come out. I couldn't feel it. I was—scared. Yes, that was the first thing I was. And the second thing I was, was Rythian." He shook himself and rubbed his right arm. "It's only been twenty years, though, so I'm still . . . getting the hang of, well, existing." His eyes crinkled in what was most likely a smile. "I love it so far."

"O-kay," Honeydew stated. "I think Xeph and me are just gonna be heading on, yeah? Places to go, world to save. Y'know."

"Are you going back to Icaria? Lalna and I can go with you."

"I think they'd rather go alone," Lalna pointed out. "And you still have to give me back my alchemical chest."

"I . . . I'll just make you a new one," he responded sheepishly. "I sort of, blew it up. Just a little bit. It's fine, they're easy."

"What d'you mean, they're easy? It took me six bloody weeks to make that thing!"

"Did it? Wow, you're terrible at making things."

"I'm? I'm terrible at making things? I have a castle and you have a—a hole in the ground!"

"I live in a dirt house," Rythian explained proudly to Xephos and Honeydew. "Lalna hates it."

"It's a bloody hole in the ground!"

"It's my house, and I love it," he declared, and folded his arms.

"You like diggin' holes?" Honeydew inquired.

"Yes!" Rythian cried, brightening. "Do you?"

"Damn right, I do! I'm a dwarf, diggin' holes is in me blood!" He turned to Xephos and declared, "We're goin' with 'em. Creepy or not, I like 'im."

Sighing, Xephos said, "All right, friend. We should figure out what to do next, anyway, and Icaria's as good a place as any to start."

Rythian fairly beamed, turning his lighthouse gaze on Lalna.

"Lalna! Lalna, I made a friend!" he chirped, jigging in place.

"Congrats, Ryth. Finally, you living in a bloody hole in the ground has come in handy."

Rythian pouted. "You're just jealous because they don't like you." He spun on his heel and marched over to Honeydew, leaning an elbow on his helmet. "I don't like you either. I'm going to walk with this one. He's small and loud and he's my favorite."

"Am I?" Honeydew inquired, sounding positively delighted.

"Yes!" the mage responded, equally enthused. "Can I ride on your head?"

"No you can't bloody ride on my head!"

"Oh. Do you want to ride on my head?"

"I'd break your twiggy back. 'S why Xeph'll never carry me."

"He sounds boring, like Lalna."

"Oy!" Xephos and Lalna exclaimed simultaneously.

Rythian cackled, hoisted Honeydew under his arm without apparent effort, and zipped out of the robot in a swirl of snowflakes.

"Where on earth did you find him?" Xephos grumbled, glaring at Lalna.

"Floatin' down a river in a basket. He's only a pup."

Xephos laughed, a little more spring in his step as he headed for the exit. "That's grand. I dug up Honeydew from a vegetable garden, in with the rest of the ginger."

Lalna laughed as well, and settled easily into stride beside Xephos as they stepped out into the desert.

Lalna's tower—and it was only a tower, despite his persistently calling it a 'castle'—was located on the outskirts of Icaria, blending almost seamlessly into the thick wall that surrounded the city. Both seemed to be of an age, and Lalna had mentioned to Xephos as they walked that the wall was a recent addition, constructed in response to the upheavals in Mistral City and Stoneholm. The mayor of Icaria had reasoned that a walled city was easier to defend, and that since it was a huge population center located only a few miles from the villainous sands, there would almost certainly be a need to defend it.

The four were holding an impromptu congress inside, gathered on various cushions and couches assembled from around the tower in Lalna's sitting room (or what passed for one). Honeydew was taking up a good three-quarters of the couch, while Xephos was crammed into the last fourth of it, knees pinched together. Lalna had sprawled over a threadbare loveseat, while Rythian had constructed a two-meter stack of pillows in the corner and had perched on top of it.

"So," Xephos sighed, "what to do next."

"We go rescue Daisy," Honeydew replied instantly. "Like we've been meanin' to for, like, years."

"Who's Daisy?"

"Friend of ours," Xephos explained to Lalna. "Or, well, friend of a friend. But he, er. . . ."

"He didn't make it," Honeydew finished softly.

"Ah. Sorry."

Xephos pulled a face. "Thanks. We've been a bit, er, directionless. Without him." He frowned. "Er, any idea where Webley's gone?"

Lalna shrugged. "Haven't seen him. Prob'ly ran off. Good thing, too, 'cause if he was here, I'd give him what-for. Findin' the bloody robot without me."

"Be fair, he was kidnapped," Honeydew pointed out. "Apparently his whole expedition crew vanished."

"See, but he didn't invite me on the expedition! And he said he would!"

"What, would you've preferred to be kidnapped? Pretty sure the rest of 'em died."

"Oh," the scientist said, deflating somewhat. "S'pose it's for the best, then. Surprised old Webs made it, though."

"He almost didn't," Xephos said. "He was nearly dead when we found him."

Rythian, who had been placidly observing with his chin on his hands, suddenly stiffened, drawn to full attention like a hound that had scented a fox.

"Ryth?" Lalna inquired, sitting up. "Something wrong?"

"Yes," Rythian answered.

"Er, mind tellin' us what?" Honeydew requested.

"The pale-faced man says to kill you," he murmured. "He says to kill everyone."

"Don't? Don't do that," Xephos said hurriedly, getting to his feet. Rythian flicked a casual finger at him and his feet froze to the floor.

"There's another," Rythian continued, staring fixedly into the middle-distance. "There's another."

Lalna stood as well, imposing himself between Rythian and the other two.

"Stop it," he ordered. "You're not killing anybody, you hear me? Not in my house."

"No," the mage mused, his head tilting to the side. "No, I don't like you at all."

"What?"

Xephos had his hand on his sword. Even if his feet were frozen to the floor, he might be able to do something when violence erupted. Honeydew was standing beside him, battle-axe held defensively in front of him.

"Ready, friend?" he asked. The dwarf nodded decisively.

"I'll be right back," Rythian mentioned, and vanished with a quiet paff and a shower of purple sparks.

"Right," Honeydew declared, even before the sparks had gone out. "We're gettin' the bloody hell outta here."

"Great plan," Xephos agreed. "Now help me unfreeze my feet."

Chapter Text

At Honeydew's continued insistence, the three fled Icaria as quickly as possible, lest the forces arrayed against them came looking. Lalna had worried long and hard about what to pack, although so far as Xephos could tell, he spent nine-tenths of his time looking over his shoulder and biting his lip rather than actually packing.

Upon setting out, they decided to head directly away from the wall, hoping to find some sort of town or village along the way before they ran out of supplies. Lalna assured them that the land around Icaria was littered with small outposts of civilization, connected by winding veins of dirt road, one of which they followed. It led them up from the low and grassy plains surrounding Icaria into thickly forested hills, where the days were dim and silent and the nights were black and cacophonous. For two days, they traveled alone, meeting no one, coming upon no sign of civilization save the road they followed.

On the third day, they found what was left of Selas Town.

It was splayed like a corpse in the valley between two hills, a burnt-out shell of a city still smoldering in the wake of its ruin. The forest all around had been leveled, the trees knocked flat by the capricious sweep of a godlike hand, sturdy trunks splintered and uprooted by a terrible force.

At the crest of the opposite hill, glittering crystalline in the morning sun, was a giant hemisphere of icy blades, sitting at the center of a wide field of unnaturally fallen snow.

"No," Lalna breathed, staring at the fortress opposite in absolute horror. "No, no. No."

"Well," Xephos commented, "there goes that, then."

Honeydew clicked his teeth, shaking his head. "Why's everyone who digs holes gotta be evil?"

"He is not," Lalna snarled, rounding on them. "He didn't do this."

"I'm pretty sure he did," Honeydew retorted. "I mean, you saw 'im. He was well in creepy-murder-mode."

"He doesn't kill people!"

"Looks to me like he's killed an awful lot of 'em."

Lalna's lip curled, and Xephos could see his jaw working as he ground his teeth.

"Let me tell you something about Rythian, all right? He cried, and I mean wept tears, the first time he picked a flower, because he felt it die. Bloody giant spider nearly ripped his stupid head off because he didn't want to kill it—and when he did, he went home and didn't move for three days. D'you understand what I'm saying here? Rythian doesn't kill people."

"He threatened to pull my lungs out!" Honeydew cried.

"And then hand 'em to you so you could keep breathing!"

"Which, in my opinion, is actually worse? By a lot?"

"But he wouldn't've killed you," Lalna maintained. "Now c'mon, he might be hurt."

"We can only hope," Honeydew grumbled.

Lalna went for him, and Xephos only barely managed to interpose himself between the two of them before they knocked each other tumbling down the hillside.

"Enough! That's enough," he cried. He had one hand pressed to Lalna's sternum and the other firmly braced against Honeydew's helm. "We'll go look. All right? We'll go see what's over there and decide what to do when we get there. And we will not argue on the way. Can we all agree to that?"

"I'm gonna punt that ginger bastard into the bloody sun," Lalna growled.

"Bring it, blondie," Honeydew invited. "I'll tear your bloody balls off."

"Am I going to have to gag you both?" Xephos asked, exasperated. "Because I will do it, if I have to."

Honeydew muttered into his beard, and Lalna ground his teeth some more, but in the end they both turned away from each other and folded their arms.

"Okay. Great. Well. Let's get going, then, shall we?"

Amongst much grumbling and venomous looks, they set out towards the huge flower of ice, skirting around the ruins of the town, picking their way through the debris strewn across the hillsides. Because of the treacherous terrain, it took them over an hour to arrive at the crest of the opposite hill—fortunately, despite the intervening time, it appeared that nothing whatsoever had changed since they had first espied the structure.

The thing itself was almost fifteen meters across, an explosion frozen in time and space, all needle-sharp points and febrile blades. At the epicenter of the bristling dome of ice was a small, dark figure, huddled on the ground, unmoving.

"Rythian!" Lalna cried, darting forwards across the inch-thick dusting of snow. He hadn't made it five steps before a wall of icy spikes shot up from the ground, halting at chest height. Lalna was forced to stop so quickly that his feet went out from under him and he landed heavily on his back.

"I . . . think he might want to be left alone," Honeydew guessed.

"Rythian, you let me in there right now," Lalna snapped, picking himself up and thumping a fist on the translucent wall.

The entire thistle-head of the dome shivered with a sound like broken glass, and the pike wall grew another foot, churning up dirt and grass as it pushed out of the ground.

"This is a bad idea," Xephos muttered, half to himself. "Look, just leave him, Lalna. It's obvious we're not getting in, for . . . for any reason."

Lalna rounded on him, fire in his eyes. "Like hell. You two can bugger off if you like, but I'm goin' nowhere without him."

"We should probably figger out what did all this," Honeydew mused. "I mean, more specifically than just, y'know, Isra—er, the pale-faced man. Maybe see if we can, I dunno, stop it from happening again?"

Sighing, Xephos pointed out, "Yes, but the only person who knows anything about where we might be able to go is intent on staying. And the person who would, most likely, know the most about what happened here, is sitting in the middle of, well, that." He gestured at the dome, limply.

"Assumin' the person sitting in there isn't what happened here," Honeydew replied.

"He isn't," Lalna snapped.

"Don't start this again," Xephos sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Look, Lalna, if you want to give us directions on where we could go next, that'd be fantastic. We'll be on our way and you can . . . well, stay, for as long as you like."

"And what's my guarantee you won't come looking for him?" he demanded.

"If he didn't do it, we won't have to," Honeydew answered. "You seem pretty confident."

"And you're idiots," Lalna snapped. "You can go, fine, I don't give a damn. But if you try to touch a hair on his head, you'll damn well have to go through me first."

Xephos had just opened his mouth to acquiesce when the pike-wall behind Lalna began to part, sliding open in creaks and groans and the grating scrape of broken glass. Beyond that, the dome itself opened a tunnel, albeit one lined with needles of ice that all pointed inward.

"Oh," Xephos said mildly. "I . . . think you're being invited in?"

Lalna turned, and the tension in him shifted place, from a taut line across his shoulders to a hard knot in his stomach.

"I, er," he began, "I'll be back in a bit. Prob'ly."

"Good luck!" Honeydew called, then added under his breath, "See ya later, shitlord."

"Honeydew," Xephos admonished.

"What? 'S part of my charm! Now shut up, I wanna hear this."

While they had talked, Lalna had begun to walk down the bristling tunnel. The sharp points of the icicles moved to follow him as he passed, rippling along the walls like grass in the wind. Rythian, deep in the center of the hemisphere, still had not moved. With the intervening ice removed, Xephos was now able to see that he was considerably roughed up, his clothes torn and singed, his bare feet grimy and bleeding.

"Hey," Lalna greeted, kneeling in front of him. He extended a hand towards Rythian's back.

"Don't touch me," Rythian snapped. His voice was hoarse, ragged, miserable. He had his face buried in his knees and his hands over his head.

Lalna folded his hands in his lap and sat back on his heels. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"What do you think?"

"It looks like you got hurt, but I can't tell how badly. I'd like to help, if I can."

"You can't."

"I think I'd rather decide that myself, if it's all the same to you."

"It's not." He paused a moment, and if Xephos looked closely, he could see that the mage was shaking. "You should go."

"Why?" Lalna inquired.

Rythian shook his head. When he spoke again, his voice was thick with anger, disgust, despair.

"He got—he got into my head. I couldn't . . . it never even occurred to me to—to try to fight back. And I . . . all of them. . . ."

"Oh, God," Xephos muttered under his breath. "We're gonna have to kill him, aren't we."

"Nah, maybe not," Honeydew mused. "If he's bein' mind-controlled by Is—er, the pale-faced man, maybe we could just like, give 'im a tin-foil hat, or something."

He snorted. "Well, it's worth a shot."

Inside the dome of ice, Lalna had finally found his voice.

"That wasn't you," he assured Rythian. "You didn't do that. Somebody else did, and they just . . . used you, okay?"

"I liked it," Rythian hissed, his voice gone low and dark. "I felt them die and I liked it."

"You had somebody else in your head, Ryth! That wasn't you!"

"I am a monster, Lalna," he retorted, his fingers tightening on his own hair. "I always have been and I always will be, and I was stupid to ever pretend I was anything else." He paused, then added so softly that Xephos could barely hear him, "I was stupid to believe it was true."

"That's not what I heard," Lalna disagreed. "And correct me if I'm wrong, but I thought that, y'know, the first thing you were was scared. And the second thing you were—and the thing you are—is Rythian."

Rythian stopped breathing for a moment. Lalna reached out again, and this time Rythian did not preempt him from laying a hand on his back.

"Look at me, Ryth," Lalna murmured.

"No," Rythian retorted, tensing again.

"Please?"

"You don't want to see me like this."

"Pretty sure I do."

"I don't want you to see me like this."

"Sorry to tell you, but I am, actually, already looking at you. So I mean, unless something really catastrophic has happened to your face, I don't think I'll be much surprised."

"Go away, Lalna," Rythian moaned.

Lalna took his hand from Rythian's back, and for a moment Xephos thought he might do as the mage had asked; but then he reached both hands between Rythian's arms and took gentle hold of his face, coaxing him into sitting upright.

Rythian had been crying. His eyes were bloodshot, his face streaked with soot and grime, the blue-white glow of his eyes almost entirely extinguished. Despite all Lalna's efforts in getting him to sit up, he kept his gaze averted, staring fixedly at Lalna's right elbow.

"Ryth, look at me, please," Lalna requested.

"I can't," he croaked.

"Yes, you can. I'm going to make you a promise, and I want you to look at me, so you know I mean it."

Rythian sat in silence for a long moment; so long, in fact, that Lalna jostled him and repeated, "Look at me, Ryth."

The light of his eyes flickered, and then slowly, he looked up to meet Lalna's eyes.

"Ryth, I promise you, no matter what, that I am going to fix this," Lalna declared. "I am going to do whatever it takes to make this right. Okay? I am going to help you. I promise."

Rythian's mouth moved under his mask, but any sound that came out was too quiet for Xephos to hear.

"Pretty sure I can," Lalna answered. "Pretty sure I'm going to."

A silence passed between them, gazes locked, bodies still; then Lalna leaned in and, ever so gently, pressed his lips to Rythian's.

"I promise," he murmured.

An even longer silence followed.

"What does that mean?" Rythian quavered, once again focusing his eyes on Lalna's elbow.

"Huh?"

"What you just did. What does it mean?"

Lalna seemed to consider for a moment. He still had not relinquished his hold on Rythian's face.

"It means I like you," he offered. "Means I care about you. It means—it means I trust you."

Rythian looked up sharply. Xephos saw the tremor in him rise up from his feet, saw it shatter him from the inside out. Collapsing against Lalna, filling his fists with crisp white lab coat, Rythian sobbed like an orphaned child.

"We're gonna pretend we didn't see any of that?" Honeydew muttered to Xephos, through the corner of his mouth.

"Too far away to hear anything, friend," Xephos agreed. "Couldn't see a thing through all that ice."

Honeydew nodded. "Can't very well abandon 'em now, can we."

Xephos sighed. "Don't suppose so. Someone'll have to keep eyes on Rythian."

"Yeah." The dwarf frowned. "Right, so, something's been bothering me about all this."

"Hm?"

"If Rythian's got all this ice power bollocks—and judging by the state of him, he don't have much else—then I've got to wonder: who did all the burning?"

Xephos blanched. "That," he said, "is a very good question."

"Lalna, are you positive we're not lost?"

"I've said so eight bloody times already, haven't I?"

Xephos scowled. "We've been walking for hours."

"Yeah, and it took us three days to get from Icaria to Selas Town, so I dunno why you're expectin' different now."

"There's no road! Besides, look at Honeydew, he's just about dead on his feet."

"Am not," Honeydew objected, although he was clearly dragging his feet, his head hung with exhaustion.

"I'll carry you," Rythian offered. Xephos started; they were the first words he'd said since departing his icy prison five hours ago.

"Er, no thanks," Honeydew deferred. "I'm good."

Rythian shrugged. "All right. But you do have very small legs."

"Excuse me?"

"Well, you do! And we all have very long legs, and besides, Lalna walks too fast."

"I what?"

"You walk too fast."

"Too fast for what, exactly?"

"For people with small legs."

"You're insufferable."

Rythian's eyes crinkled with a grin. "You should carry him."

"Absolutely not."

"And why not? You're being rude."

"I'm not—you can't just say people are being rude!"

"Nah, you're bein' rude," Honeydew agreed, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. He winked at Rythian.

"See? You should carry him, to make up for being rude."

"Why can't Xephos carry him?"

"He's twiggy, he'll snap in half."

"You—I will not!" Xephos objected, indignant. Honeydew was cackling.

"C'mon then, prove it, twiggy. Hoist me!"

"I'm not carrying you!"

"You're the one who was whinging about bein' lost and usin' me as an excuse."

"I was—that's not what I—"

"Hoist me!" Honeydew insisted, holding his arms up and making grabby-hands at Xephos. "My poor little dwarf legs can't take me no further!"

"Oh, piss off, you're clearly fine."

"Now that was rude," Lalna pointed out. "See the difference?"

"No," Rythian claimed, eyes wide and bright, hands clasped behind his back.

"Is nobody gonna carry me, then? Be honest, I'm knackered," Honeydew declared. Rythian turned and held his arms open.

"Jump!" he cried.

Honeydew took a running start and flung himself at Rythian's torso. The mage caught him, spun him around as though he weighed no more than a puppy, and set him on his shoulders.

"You are such a twat," Lalna sighed.

"You're only angry because I'm better than you," Rythian countered.

"What did you just say?"

"Said he's better than you," Honeydew supplied.

"I'm gonna knock that bloody dwarf off your head," Lalna threatened.

"Oh, shit. Giddyup! Hyaa!" the aforementioned dwarf cried, kicking at Rythian's chest. Laughing, Rythian sprinted ahead, leaving a faint white trail of frost behind him.

"Bloody twat," Lalna grumbled, pressing on after the two of them. Xephos fell into step beside him.

"He seems . . . all right," he mentioned.

"He always seems like that," the scientist replied, "right up until he's not. He's got two modes and you've seen both of 'em."

"Well. Apparently there's a third where he slaughters entire towns, which neither of us have seen."

Lalna stiffened. "I've said, that wasn't him."

"Does he think so?"

"He doesn't understand the difference between socks and shoes, I guarantee he can't tell somebody else's thoughts from his. If it's in his head, he's going to assume it's his."

"He said that something was in his head. It sounds like he can tell just fine."

Glaring at him, Lalna repeated, "Still wasn't him."

Xephos sighed. "Well. Anyway. Any ideas as to how we keep it from happening again?"

"Apart from drugging the livin' daylights out of him? Not yet."

Raising an eyebrow, he inquired, "Was that ever a plan?"

"'S the only one I've got, at the moment."

"I hate to ask, but have you got appropriate, er, implements? Including the, er, drugs?"

"Can have, soon as we get to town." He paused, biting his lip. From up ahead, the sound of a silver-bell laugh echoed back through the woods. "I, er . . . I'd appreciate it if you didn't say anythin' to him. It'll, y'know, put him down."

After a moment's consideration, Xephos nodded.

"Won't say a word," he promised, then added, "friend."

Chapter Text

Rythian, like most people Xephos had known, did not appreciate being drugged.

Unlike most people, however, he was expressing his displeasure by draping himself all over Lalna and bemoaning his own imminent demise.

"I'm dying," he lamented, slurring considerably. "Why would you do this to me?"

"For the millionth time, Ryth, you're not dying."

"You don't know. You're not here. You're not the one whose—whose flesh is decaying all around him."

"And neither are you! You're fine, Ryth, it's just a sedative."

Rythian nuzzled Lalna's neck and fingered the lapel of his lab coat. "Why did you kill me, Lalna? I trusted you. . . ."

The scientist was flushed, fidgeting, first moving away from Rythian, then leaning into him.

"You're not—look, I didn't—it's not—you're fine, really, honestly, I promise you, you're fine."

Rythian murmured something and insinuated himself further into Lalna's lap. Lalna's jaw clenched and he cast his eyes towards the ceiling, nostrils flared.

"He is, er, human, isn't he?" Xephos inquired.

Lalna pulled a face. "Far as I can tell? I mean, clearly he's not, y'know, entirely normal, but . . . I dunno, I haven't noticed him reacting weirdly to anything." He paused. "Until now."

Rythian turned appealing, unfocused eyes on Honeydew, who was sitting apart on the foot of Xephos's bed.

"He's poisoned me," he moaned, worrying at the collar of Lalna's shirt with his fingertips. "They've poisoned me."

"Yep," the dwarf agreed. "And horrible of 'em to do it, too."

"Hey!" Xephos objected rounding on him. The rented hostel beds were small enough that Honeydew was well within arm's reach, and Xephos had to restrain himself from shaking the dwarf silly.

Shrugging, Honeydew explained, "What? You and Mr. Mad Scientist over there—"

"That's doctor Mad Scientist to you," Lalna interrupted.

"Yeah, whatever. The two of you bloody well roofied him, and he's clearly miserable. I'd count that as poisoning."

"He's not miserable," Lalna objected.

"No," the mage mumbled, "I'm dying."

Lalna put an arm around his waist, and a visible shiver rolled through Rythian.

"You talk an awful lot for a dying man," Lalna told him.

"You're cute for a murderer," Rythian returned, and chuckled, and snuggled closer against Lalna.

"He certainly doesn't seem pleased about the situation," Xephos admitted.

"Would you be?" Honeydew demanded of him. "Fuck's sake, he thinks he's dying, you expect that's a pleasant experience?"

"He doesn't know what he's saying," Lalna explained, idly petting Rythian's hip with his thumb. The mage shivered again and grabbed a clumsy fistful of Lalna's lab coat.

"Of course he doesn't, you've bloody drugged him!"

"Well, I mean, there you are, then," Xephos said. "Look, I'm sure it'll be fine, friend."

"Awfully angry for a little guy, isn't he."

"You have no idea."

"Oy, watch it. I'll chop you both off at the knees."

Xephos turned a long-suffering gaze on Lalna. "You see what I mean?"

Rythian flowed out of Lalna's lap and rolled across the floor until he was lying underneath Honeydew's bed. Lalna pulled the thin, grungy pillow into his lap to take Rythian's place.

"Bury me with my scarf on," he slurred. "Sweet little angry little small man. Dwarf. Dwarf. Bury me in—in the sun. I hate rain, it hurts."

Honeydew shifted to lie on his stomach and reached a hand down under the bed to pat Rythian's shoulder.

"I'll launch you into space, mate."

"No," Rythian snarled, his eyes snapping open. They blazed, nearly white, focused and clear. "Not there. Never there."

Honeydew barely even recoiled. "Got it, no space. How's desert?"

The mage's eyes slid closed again, and he sighed. "Desert. Okay. Bring flowers. I love flowers."

"All the flowers I can carry."

"I love you," Rythian murmured.

"Yeah yeah, love you too. Go to sleep, ya big . . . palooka."

"Mm. Sleep. G'bye, Honeydew. Dwarf. Friend. I'll miss you when I'm dead."

"I'll miss you too. Good night, sweet prince, flights of angels, et cetera."

"Shh," he whispered. "No one's s'posed to know. . . ."

Alarmed, Xephos looked over at Lalna, who seemed just as shocked. They sat in silence, wan and wide-eyed, until Xephos was confident that Rythian was thoroughly unconscious.

"I'm beginning to think," he said at last, his voice low, "that this was a terrible idea."

"Nah," Lalna responded, leaning back against the oaken wall. "He'll be fine come morning. He's dramatic like that sometimes. Should've seen him when he caught a cold. It was a bloody production."

"Are you positive he's not going to, you know, kill us in our sleep?"

"What? Yeah, of course, why would he?"

"Because you poisoned him, idiot," Honeydew snapped, sitting up and folding his arms. "Serve you shitlords right if he killed you."

"That's highly uncharitable of you," Xephos pointed out, glaring at him. "It's for the best. Even you've got to admit that."

"I haven't got to do anything."

"What would you have done, then?" Lalna demanded. "Tied him up?"

"I'd've talked to him!" Honeydew retorted. "I'd've asked what he damn well wanted!"

"He doesn't understand," Lalna said. "He doesn't know what's best for him. God's sake, he doesn't understand basic—"

"Then explain!" the dwarf roared, leaping to his feet. His boots hit the floor with a heavy thud. "He's not an idiot, he's not a child—"

"He is!" Lalna objected. "He's a bloody child, and if I didn't take care of him, he'd be dead twelve times over!"

"Funny, that, seeing as he seemed to've survived the vast majority of his life without you."

The muscles in Lalna's jaw worked, his fists clenched.

"So what am I supposed to do, huh? What d'you want from me? If you want him so bad, you can have him, you can deal with him. Nothing I say is gonna get you to stop hating me, so why'm I even bothering?"

"I don't hate you, I just think you're a bastard," Honeydew answered. "And I think Rythian's a person who deserves to make his own bloody decisions, including-but-not-limited-to whether or not he'd like to be bloody drugged."

"He, er, he has got a point," Xephos admitted. "It couldn't hurt to talk things over with him, could it?"

"Yeah, actually, it could," the scientist snapped. "You don't know him like I do."

"And clearly he don't know you like we do," Honeydew spat, "otherwise he'd've torn your lungs out ages ago."

"Okay, right, that's enough of that," Xephos declared, laying a hand on Honeydew's shoulder. "We're all worn out, and clearly very stressed, and we could all do with a night's sleep. We can talk about this come morning. All right?"

Honeydew sighed out a heavy breath through his nose and grumbled something obscene into his beard. Lalna ground his teeth once again, glaring at the far corner of the room, lips pursed.

"Fine," the scientist said at last. "And come morning, you'll see you've been worrying over nothing."

"Hope you like wearin' your innards on the outside," Honeydew mentioned.

"I will kick you both out of this room," Xephos threatened, wagging a warning finger at the two of them. "Now be quiet, and for God's sake, quit snipping at each other."

Each looked, for a moment, as though he was going to object; but then Lalna threw himself down into his bed and turned his back to the other three, and Honeydew burrowed under the blankets at the foot of the bed.

Xephos sighed, shaking his head, and lay down. He folded his hands over his stomach, shut his eyes, and pretended to be asleep until he actually was.

It was the cold that woke him.

He was shivering, his teeth chattering, his fingers aching. Opening bleary eyes, he was greeted by the sight of two blue-white stars blazing down at him from the darkness. Two frigid hands were pressed hard against his chest, and a frozen iron bar sat across his hips.

"Give me one reason," Rythian hissed, "why I shouldn't kill you here and now."

Xephos's voice caught in his throat, and he had to swallow a few times before he could even breathe again. The skin of his chest was so cold it was burning.

"I—er, um, it—it wasn't my idea?" he croaked.

"Oh, I know. That has no bearing on whether or not I kill you."

"Honeydew wasn't involved," he blurted, the words spilling out of his lips without consulting his brain first.

Rythian's head tipped to the side. "I know that, too," he said. "Still not a reason for me to leave you alive."

"It—it won't do any good?" Xephos guessed. "I'll just . . . come right back. I do that, you know. Legendary hero."

His eyes crinkled at the corners, turned from stars to crescent moons.

"That," he murmured, "was the exact wrong answer."

The cold struck him in the heart, stopping its beat on the instant, sending a thousand needle-shards of frozen blood piercing through his chest. He jerked, but Rythian held him down against the bed.

"Please," he wheezed, though drawing breath was nigh impossible. "Please."

"Don't worry," Rythian assured him. "I only intend to kill you once."

His vision was going dark around the edges, the pain was unbearable, he was suffocating no matter how he gasped at the chilly air. He clawed at Rythian's arms, but he was already so weak he could not even break the mage's skin.

In agony, in terror, in breathless darkness, Xephos died.

He gasped himself awake and toppled to the hardwood floor, drenched in sweat and shivering like mad. He could feel Rythian looking at him, a cold and scientific scrutiny of his distress. When he looked up, the mage was sitting cross-legged on the chest of Xephos's own frozen corpse.

"That was remarkably quick," Rythian commented, his voice light and easy. "Is it always that quick?"

"You bloody maniac!" Xephos snarled, staggering to his feet. Lalna and Honeydew both startled themselves awake, blinking around with half-focused eyes.

"Xeph?" Honeydew mumbled. "Wh' happened?"

"This bloody—bloody maniac murdered me!" he cried, pointing at Rythian, whose posture had not changed.

"Oh, no he didn't," Lalna grumbled.

"He's sitting on my bloody corpse!"

Lalna peered at Rythian. He rubbed his eyes, shook his head, and looked again.

"Oh," he said.

"If it makes you feel any better," Rythian mentioned, "I was going to kill Lalna next."

"You what?"

"I just hadn't thought of an appropriately painful way for him to die yet. You came back sooner than I expected."

"Are you out of your goddamn mind?" Lalna demanded, his voice cracking. "Jesus wept, Ryth, just 'cause he comes back doesn't mean I do!"

Rythian's attention shifted, and Xephos could see Lalna recoil from it.

"That can be fixed," he stated darkly.

"Oy, c'mon now," Honeydew interceded, "this's hardly fair. They didn't actually kill you, no need to actually kill them. Even if they are bastards."

"Thank you for that," Xephos sneered. "I'm filled with confidence."

"Fair?" Rythian inquired. "Was it fair of them to poison me?"

"Er, well, no, but—"

"It doesn't need to be fair, Honeydew. It isn't meant to be fair. It's meant to keep them from ever so much as entertaining the thought of harming me again."

"Well, I mean, Lalna wouldn't be thinkin' much of anything, if you did, y'know, kill him."

"Yes," Rythian acknowledged, "but that works just as well."

"Oh, hell with you," Lalna spat. "I was trying to help, you ruddy git."

This time, when Rythian glared at him, Lalna slammed his own back against the wall. A feathered crown of frost was sprouting from Rythian's head, and Xephos's corpse was being methodically torn to shreds by swift-growing blades of ice.

"Trying to help whom, exactly?" Rythian growled, and something in his voice sent primal chills skittering down Xephos's spine.

"Y-you," Lalna wheezed through blue lips. "T-tryna . . . help . . . you."

"You poisoned me," the mage snarled, unfolding to plant his feet on the floor. The wood creaked and whitened beneath him. He towered over everything and everyone in the room. "You said you cared about me. You said you trusted me."

"I—I do."

"Liar," Rythian hissed. The frost was drawing eldritch patterns across his skin, building a nest of sharp spines along his back and a forest of blades atop his head. The air in the room was so cold that it hurt to breathe. Lalna whimpered, cringing back against the wall.

Honeydew threw a boot at Rythian. It hit him squarely in the side of the head and knocked some of the frost off. Rythian blinked, shaking himself, and the temperature of the room increased by at least ten degrees.

"Quit it," the dwarf admonished.

Rythian stared at him, unblinking, for a full three seconds, before vanishing in a cascade of purple sparks. Xephos sighed out a breath and sank to the floor.

"I told you it was a stupid idea," he said to Lalna.

"Go to hell," Lalna spat, and stormed from the room.

Honeydew folded his arms and scowled.

"Well," he concluded, "you're both absolute tits."

"Shut up, friend," Xephos sighed, and put his head in his shaking hands.

Chapter Text

"Should we really be leaving without them?" Honeydew asked, looking over his shoulder for the fiftieth time that morning.

"We waited a whole day, friend. I'm pretty sure they weren't coming back anyway."

"Yeah, but. . . ." The dwarf frowned and shook his head. "It feels all wrong."

"Hm. It's probably for the best, us going on without them. The whole, Treasure of the Templar Kings thing was, sort of, supposed to be a secret."

"Oh, yeah, there was something about that, wasn't there. Only that, y'know, practically everyone we've talked to has known about it."

"But they don't know where it is, Honeydew, that's the secret bit, that's why everyone was looking for the map, which we've got."

"Have we? Since when?"

"Since—er, I mean, Webley said he knew where it was, so. . . ."

"But we haven't got Webley. And he's not exactly a map."

"Really? I could've sworn I had one."

"What, a Webley?"

"A map."

"Oh. Hah, 'f course, silly me. Should we go find Webley, then, or have you got a map hidden on you somewhere?"

"I've, er, hang on a minute," Xephos blustered, swinging his pack off and tugging it open. He rooted around through its contents, relying on his peripheral vision to keep from running into anything along the road. He and Honeydew had left the tiny town of Bridgewater, where they had spent the last couple of nights, just after dawn. It was now midmorning, and the distance between them and Icaria was steadily increasing.

"Not to worry, we only might be completely lost," Honeydew assured him.

"That's not exactly helpful."

"Neither is wandering about without a map, is it?"

Xephos scowled down at him. Honeydew raised an eyebrow in return, folded his arms, and planted his feet so firmly they might have taken root.

"Look, I know what I'm doing, all right?"

"Do you? That's news to me. Here I was, thinking we were faffing about whilst Israphel was destroying the goddamn world."

"We are not faffing about, Honeydew, we're—"

"Yes?"

"We're—well, we're—we're planning!"

"Is that like 'regrouping,' only we were never really grouped to start off with?"

"It's—er, yes, I suppose."

"Oh, good," said Honeydew, and plopped down on the side of the road.

"What are you doing?"

"Grouping."

"You can't group with just one person."

"Good thing you're here then, innit."

"You can't group with two people, either! And I'm not even a part of your . . . whatever. Group."

"Did you forget the word group?"

"Yeah, for a bit, there."

Honeydew patted the dirt next to him. "C'mon, have a sit. We'll group."

"You can't—oh, all right, fine." He took a single long step and folded himself to the ground like a step-ladder.

"So," Honeydew began, "have we or haven't we got a map?"

Xephos rummaged some more, cradling his bag between his legs as he pawed through its contents.

"We've got several maps," he said at last.

"Does any of them happen to be the one we're actually looking for?"

"I don't know, do I. None of them are labelled."

"I'd expect you might recognize one or two of them."

"One or two, yeah," he admitted. He set a pair of the wrinkled papers down in front of Honeydew. "These two."

"Ah, right," the dwarf said, nodding sagely. "This one here is Swampy's thingamabob. Er. . . ."

"Sacred . . . grove?" Xephos guessed.

Honeydew shrugged. "Close enough. And the other one is. . . ?"

"Mistral City."

"Ah. How many more of 'em are in there?"

Xephos held up a thick sheaf of parchment. "About this many."

"Oh, God. And one of those is the treasure map?"

"I hope so?"

"Jayzus Chryst," the dwarf cursed, affecting a thick, yet geographically indeterminate, accent. "And none of 'em are labelled."

"Yes."

"Bloody hell."

"Suppose we'd better start grouping."

"Suppose we'd better had."

Xephos handed him half of the stack of maps.

"Honestly," he sighed, settling in to pore over them, "where did we even get so many maps?"

"Y'know, I'm beginning to think you don't actually know where you're going."

"I'm following the map," Xephos said, not taking his eyes off the parchment.

"And the map leads where, exactly?"

"Somewhere," he hedged.

"Oh, well then, we're well off. Because we're in the middle of fucking nowhere. Where did you get that thing, anyway?"

"I . . . took it. From Webley's bag."

"When?"

"On the camel-ride. I must've."

"What d'you mean, I must've?"

"I don't, technically, remember taking it. But I must have done, because I've got it, and Webley's the only one who would've had it. Right? So, there you are."

"Uh-huh. And what makes you so sure this is the right map?"

"Because we've been to all the other ones."

"How can you tell? The maps are shit."

"As best I can figure, we've been to all the other map locations. If we don't find anything here, we'll start looking through the others." He glanced at Honeydew. "Something bothering you, friend?"

"Oh, there's something bloody bothering me, all right," the dwarf grumbled. "You've got a map that you don't know where it goes, that you can't remember where you got it, and here's the two of us in the middle of fucking nowhere with a world-ending evil bearing down on us like a fucking steam engine." He wheezed in a breath. "So yeah, I'm a bit fuckin' bothered, Xeph."

"I—well," Xephos said, and then finished lamely, "well."

"I'd feel better about it if we had the guy who could freeze half the goddamn world with us."

"He murdered me in my sleep!"

"You got better," Honeydew pointed out.

"It's the principle of the thing. He was clearly unstable, and incredibly dangerous."

"Yeah, that's why I want him on my side. He could turn all our problems into one big Israsicle and we could push it into lava."

"I somehow doubt it'd be that easy."

"It'd be worth a fuckin' try."

Xephos had to concede that particular point. "But," he added, wagging a finger at Honeydew, "he might also turn us into icicles, which is not pleasant."

"All I'm saying is, maybe, unlike us, he or Lalna could actually read a bloody map. And if they can't, we'll at least be closer to Webley than we are now."

"Unfortunately, I get the feeling he and Lalna are a package deal."

"Really? What on earth gave you that idea?"

"Honeydew—"

"Was it the snogging? I'll bet it was the snogging."

"Honeydew."

"I'm not saying they're an item, no, a man should always feel free to snog his best friend. Platonically, you know."

"Oh, quit," Xephos chuckled, his hands fluttering around like butterflies. His face was growing hot and sweaty.

"What? Consenting adults, all that jazz."

"Could we, please, maybe, focus on the task at hand?"

"I'm only saying," Honeydew pointed out.

"Yes, and you're being very distracting, so could you, perhaps, stop only saying?"

"All right," the dwarf said gamely.

"Don't kiss me," Xephos snarled, rounding on him. Honeydew batted his eyelashes and clasped his hands behind his back.

"I wasn't going to!" he promised.

"Yes you were," he accused. "You definitely were."

"Wasn't. Why, d'you want me to kiss you?"

A wave of heat rolled up from under his collar. "Wh—I don't—no, of course not, don't be—I mean, I don't even—I'm not—"

"Of the fairy persuasion?" Honeydew suggested demurely.

"That's exceedingly rude."

"To who? Fairies?"

"Men who enjoy the company of other men. One of whom, in case you might not have picked up on it, can freeze half the goddamn world."

Honeydew considered this. "Oh," he said eventually.

"I was tipped off by the snogging," Xephos explained.

"Oh, follow your bloody map," Honeydew instructed with a snort, and smiled into his beard.

They found the temple just after sundown, nearly entirely buried under sand and gravel, coal slag and rust slurry and all the other wastes of what had once been a deep and mighty mine. Gold wire threaded precarious through the crumbling walls, its insulation long eaten away by time. Jewels lay cracked and discarded on the ground, ores and gems glittered in the walls like spiders' eyes, there was the smell of dust and oil and death.

Deep underground, cradled snugly in the barren womb of the earth, they found the last unbroken treasures of a ruined age, still and forgotten in the timeless dark.

They were sleeping in glass sarcophagi, and they were wearing the heroes' faces.

Chapter Text

"What the fuck is that?" Honeydew demanded. "What the fuck is that!"

"I don't know," Xephos mumbled. His lips had gone numb.

"What d'you mean, you don't know?"

"I mean I don't know!" he snapped. "Stop panicking!"

"I'm not panicking!" Honeydew screamed, flapping his arms as though trying to take flight.

Xephos folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. Honeydew choked on his own words for a few moments before sinking to the ground with a long-suffering sigh.

"All right, maybe I am panicking," he admitted. "But it's a bloody good time for it."

"You're not wrong."

"Why've they got our faces?"

"I don't know."

"Are they clones of us?"

"I don't know that, either."

Honeydew glared at him. "Is there anything you do know?"

Xephos took a moment to consider this.

"No," he said.

"Oh, brilliant, well at least we've got that," the dwarf grumbled. "What the fuck do we do now?"

"Investigate?" Xephos guessed.

"Genius. Ruddy genius."

"You haven't got to be rude."

"Excuse you, yes I have."

"D'you want to help me investigate, then?"

"No, in fact, I don't."

"Fine. S'pose you can just sit there fuming, then."

"S'pose I can."

"Fine."

"Fine."

Xephos turned his back on Honeydew with a huff and marched over to the twin glass tanks. Fog rolled off of them in slow waves, and the glass was frosted with a thin layer of ice. Inside, his own face was peaceful, somnolent, pale and blue. The sight sent a shiver up his spine, left a hollow space in the pit of his stomach.

He did not look at the other Honeydew.

"Looks like cloning chambers," he muttered, half to himself. "Bit more sophisticated than the ones from before. . . ."

"Oh, brilliant, so we've been cloned?"

"I didn't say that."

"Are we clones?"

"I didn't say that, either."

"I know you didn't say it, I'm saying it."

"Then why'd you make out like you were asking a question?"

"I'll make out with you," Honeydew threatened. Xephos flushed bright red. "Er, wait, no, that came out a bit wonky."

"You . . . came out a bit wonky," he countered lamely, and waved a hand. "But you've got a point. About the clones."

"Bit of an egg, chicken situation. Mm, y'know, I could go for some eggs and chicken."

He sighed. "Focus, friend."

"Sorry, what?"

"I mean, what do we do about these?" He gestured to the clones.

"Err, we could poke about, I s'pose? See if there's any, I dunno, conveniently explanatory journal pages lying about?"

Xephos opened his mouth to object, then shut it again with a quiet click.

"Well. Right, okay, let's do that, then."

"You take, er, that one? And I'll take this one?" Honeydew waved a hand at the glass sarcophagi.

"Sounds like a plan," he agreed. He began his search by peering around at the foot of the tank, studiously averting his eyes from his own sleeping-dead face. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Honeydew was taking a similar approach.

There seemed to be nothing of any note surrounding the tanks—they were protruding from haphazard piles of sand, as though the roof had fallen in and been swept away; there were no visible wires, no evident power source or cooling mechanism; no notes, journals, photographs, or other convenient expository material.

"Wonder how long they've been here," Honeydew mused. He rapped on the glass of his own tank. "Figure we could wake 'em up and ask?"

"I somehow doubt that'd be wise," he replied.

"On account of these are the reason we don't die?"

Xephos blinked, considering this.

"That's . . . probably exactly right. I was just thinking it was a bad idea on general principle, but, er, yeah, I think you've hit the nail on the head."

"Huh," said Honeydew, and went back to poking about around the tank, still pouring cold vapor onto the sandstone floor. The room itself was baked dry with desert heat, illuminated by a single thin shaft of sunlight and a few yellow lights gleaming from above the frozen clones.

"How are they powered?" Xephos wondered under his breath. He peered around the back of the tank, pressing his palm to the glass to keep his balance.

There was a static pop, an electric whine, and the room filled with blue-white light. Xephos leapt back with a cry, tripping over his own legs and falling on his rear, and Honeydew was between him and the tank in an instant, axe at the ready.

From a holographic screen suspended in the air, Xephos's own face stared owlishly down at them, adjusting the camera. The Other Xephos looked older, more careworn, and decidedly nervier.

"Er, okay, well, hello then. Seems like everything's in working order. Or, at least, if you're seeing this, everything's in working order. If you're not, well . . . I'm sure it's fine. No point worrying about it."

The Other Xephos cleared his throat, casting a sheepish glance off-camera.

"Anyway. You've probably noticed by now, I'm you. Which means I've solved, er, whatever it is that's wrong with me."

A vaguely haunted look crossed his translucent face before he shook himself and continued on.

"The tank's coded to your—my— our DNA. And, yes, that's you in there, and that's you up here. And you're me, down there and in there and wherever you've been. Er, anyway, right, yes, I was explaining.

"I haven't felt quite . . . right since we got back from the Nether. A bit off. I can't—exactly—remember anything about the year afterwards. It's not blank, exactly. Just . . . fuzzy. And I get this feeling, like. . . ."

He trailed off. Honeydew's axe was sliding downwards as his hands loosened on its haft. Xephos was shaking, his mind full of racing void.

"We . . . killed him," the Other Xephos said eventually. "I mean, didn't we? He's dead," and then, with more confidence, "he is dead. So why do I feel like—oh, forget it, it's nothing.

"I haven't quite felt myself, since. Honeydew's all gung-ho about his—"

"Me?!" Honeydew cried.

"Shut up!" Xephos admonished, enraptured.

"—but he wants nothing to do with this place, and I can't say I particularly blame him. Lalna's been a grand help, though. It's almost better with him. I feel less . . . off. Closer to being—real? Why do I want to say 'real?' But I do."

"Traitor," Honeydew accused over his shoulder.

"That's not me," Xephos hissed.

"It is," the dwarf replied.

"We've been looking into the caps we found in the store-room—it's funny, you wouldn't think we'd have a store-room just yet, but there you have it. Apparently—and we've tested this quite a bit—it allows the selective and precise deletion of memory. It's a bit clumsy, but—well, to get to the point, it looks a hell of a lot like something Lalna and I would cook up. It . . . has our fingerprints on it, you might say. But I don't remember making it, and neither does he. It doesn't help that the test subjects with the most extensive deletions experienced—well, exhibited—er, well, to be honest, they went completely mad. Lalna thinks it has something to do with the Flux and it interacting with the gaps in memory, but we've yet to gather enough information on that, since we've only just started fiddling about with Flux—Lalna's idea, not mine—anyway.

"Is it possible I would have used it on myself? On Lalna? On—dear God, on Honeydew? I wouldn't have. Would I? I don't know. I haven't felt right since—but we did kill him. I know that. I just can't, exactly, remember how. We killed Israphel. He's dead. So why do I keep seeing him out the corner of my eye? Trauma, I suppose, but it doesn't solve the brain cap mystery.

"Hopefully the feeling will go away eventually. It's already not as bad as it used to be. Still, I've saved this master-clone from before the . . . everything started. And now you're awake, well! Er, welcome, I suppose. Hopefully you'll have no clue what I'm talking about, and that'll be that."

The Other Xephos acquired that shifty look again.

"There is, though, a chance it might take me a while to figure all this out. Er, in which case, you might have experienced some cognitive deterioration? Probably not much. Testing was—informative? If it's been less than a decade—hah, and it had damn well better've been, or I'm going to lose my bloody mind—you shouldn't have experienced any notable loss. Honestly, at the attrition rates we observed, it would have to take well over a century for noticeable gaps to appear. So, er, you're probably fine. Definitely. Definitely fine.

"Right, well. So. If all's gone to plan, you've got everything fixed and no one knows anything was ever wrong. I've rambled a bit—sorry, you know how you are—so, er, best of luck, thanks for figuring it out, do try not to die terribly much."

He reached out a hand toward the camera, then hesitated. He cast a look to the side and scooted in closer, until his face filled the translucent screen, haggard, waxen, pale.

"And, you know. Take care of Honeydew. God only knows what we'd do without him."

A static pop, a declining electric whine, and the screen vanished into darkness. Honeydew's axe was resting its head on the floor, and Xephos was shaking all over, drenched in a cold sweat. His heartbeat was so rapid that it was almost a single tone.

"Er," Honeydew began, hoarsely, "is this an appropriate time to mention that I don't want chicken nor eggs anymore?"

Chapter Text

They met Lalna and Rythian on the weary road back to Bridgewater; Rythian was chatting away, and Lalna had the resigned look of a pack-mule.

"I told you so," Rythian needled, skipping along backwards in front of Lalna. "I told~ you so!"

"So you've said," Lalna grumbled. He raised a weary hand in greeting. "He knew you were coming," he explained.

"And you didn't believe me," Rythian pointed out. "You said I was crazy."

"You are crazy."

The mage laughed, golden bells in summertime. "Yes! But not because of that."

"Glad you can admit it," Honeydew said. His voice was low and tired, much like Xephos himself.

"What's happened to you two, then?" Lalna asked.

"They found something," Rythian answered. "Was it bad?"

Honeydew shared a glance with Xephos. "Yeah," the dwarf admitted.

"Yeah?" Lalna wondered. "What was it?"

"Rather not say, if it's all the same to you," Xephos said.

"Fair enough," Rythian said, shrugging.

"Yeah, but—"

"He'd rather not say, Lalna."

"So you're on his side all of a sudden? You tried to kill him not three days ago!"

"I succeeded in killing him three days ago," Rythian pointed out.

"That's not better!"

"I'm over it," Xephos said, "mostly. But, er, I suppose the question is, what are you two doing here?"

"Looking for you, of course," Rythian replied, while Lalna had a quiet conniption.

"I thought we were, er, on bad terms?"

The mage looked at Honeydew, his eyes soft and fond.

"Xephos said he was over it. I'm certainly over it. Are you over it?"

"Eh, prob'ly," the dwarf admitted. Rythian's eyes narrowed to glowing crescent moons.

"I'm not over it!" Lalna objected. "You don't just stay friends with someone who's killed you!"

"He didn't kill me," Honeydew pointed out.

"But—"

"Lalna," Xephos pronounced, regarding the scientist closely, "are you jealous?"

Lalna flushed from collar to scalp and waved his hands while spitting out pieces of broken words.

"Jealous?" Rythian inquired, turning wide eyes on Lalna. "Why would you be jealous?"

"I'm not!"

"Then why are you doing . . . that?" He gestured to all of Lalna.

"I'm—shut up!"

Rythian laughed and butted his head against Lalna's shoulder. "Okay, I'll shut up."

"But, okay, how come you two were looking for us?" Honeydew asked.

"Er, we figured you might, y'know, need the help," Lalna explained, sheepish. "With the world-saving and all."

"Yeah, fantastic!"

Xephos glared at Honeydew. "It's not," he said.

"Isn't it? I remember you saying, Urr, it'd be nice to have the fella who could freeze half the goddamn world on our side, wouldn't mind the science-guy either."

"Half?" Rythian complained.

"I didn't say that! You said that."

"You agreed."

"I was desperate."

"And you're not now? Oh, fantastic, that means we've got a way to save the world handy. Mind sharin' with the rest of us?"

"Wait, so I'm the science-guy?"

"Look, no, shut up, all right? It's not important."

"It's not that I mind being the science-guy—"

"Not important!"

"Stop yelling!" Honeydew yelled at him. "Everyone stop yelling!"

"I wasn't!" Lalna objected.

Suddenly, the air went so cold that it knocked Xephos's breath out. Silence, clear and brittle, froze around the group. Rythian lowered his hand and the temperature went up a few degrees.

"I think," he said, "that we should find a town and have something to eat."

"Fucking Christ," Lalna hissed under his breath.

"I can put you in cryogenic stasis," Rythian offered blithely.

With one sound, Honeydew and Xephos chorused a mighty No, ringing deep with horror. Lalna jerked a thumb at them.

"What they said."

"I really wish," Xephos said to Rythian, "that you wouldn't do that."

"Do what?"

"Freeze . . . everything."

"I only froze half of everything."

"For the last time, I didn't say that!"

Rythian's eyes narrowed from a hidden grin.

"I never said you were wrong," he assured him, and winked.

Bridgewater was silent and still as a painting. The lamps had not been lit. The chimneys were smokeless, the windows all blinded with shades.

"I don't like this," Xephos proclaimed, fingers alighting on the hilt of his sword.

"Really?" Honeydew asked. "Because I was just thinking how fucking lovely and welcoming the goddamn ghost-town is."

"Ryth?" Lalna began, turning to Rythian. "What's goin' on?"

"I don't know," Rythian decided. "It doesn't look like Israphel's work, but it's not . . . normal. Something's wrong."

"Well, no shit," Honeydew grumbled.

"Come on, we'll investigate," Xephos said, stepping forward and beckoning to the others.

"Are you crazy?" Lalna demanded. "I'm not goin' in there, it's spooky!"

"He's got a point," said Honeydew, "it is spooky."

"Oh, for the love of—what else can we do?"

"Leave?" Lalna suggested. "I vote we leave."

"Got my vote."

Xephos glared at the dwarf. "Since when do you side with him?"

"Since he wasn't the one tellin' me to go into the spooky ghost-town."

"Not a ghost-town," Rythian corrected. "Everyone's still alive in there. Just . . . doing something. I guess."

"How could you possibly know that?" Xephos demanded.

Rythian shrugged. "I just do."

"He just does," Lalna confirmed. "Don't bother asking how, he won't answer you."

"You won't understand," Rythian explained. "And I don't want you to understand, either."

"Right, okay, lovely conversation we're having," Honeydew butted in, "but can we not have it at the edge of the goddamn ghost-town?"

"Ooh, yeah, good point," Lalna agreed.

Xephos stamped, fists balling. "Aren't any of you even the least bit curious what's going on here?"

"Nope," Honeydew answered.

"Not that curious," Lalna said.

"Oh, I am," Rythian told them. "It's just that I don't want anything to happen to the rest of you."

"Is that, er, likely?" Lalna inquired.

Rythian shrugged. "I don't know."

"You don't know, or you don't want us to know?"

"Yes."

"Goddammit. Fine. Let's get out of here."

Jaw clenched with a frustration he couldn't quite place, Xephos followed the other three away from Bridgewater and back into the dark, noisome woods.

"All right," Xephos began, seating himself opposite Rythian. The dim coals of the evening's fire shifted between them, and the sound of cicadas nearly drowned out Honeydew's snoring. "Explain."

Rythian raised an eyebrow. "Explain what?"

"What you are. Why you don't sleep, why your eyes glow, how you knew there were people in Bridgewater—and why the hell you're wearing a bloody mask!"

"Why aren't you?" Rythian countered, his voice uncommonly sharp. "How can you tell a chicken is cooking without seeing the chicken or the fire? How can you tell it's storming in the mountains? How can you see at all with such dull eyes? Why do you fall unconscious every sixteen hours?"

"All right, fine, sorry I asked. I get it."

"You don't," Rythian snarled, and his eyes blazed with wintry light. "Have you been stoned, beaten, burned, tortured because no one knew what you are? How many towns have you been run out of, hero? How many prisons have you had to escape? How many executions has your gift endured through?"

"None," Xephos croaked, fixing his gaze to the coals.

"Good," Rythian said, all the bitter sting gone from his voice. "And I hope it'll never have to."

There was a silence that stretched longer and longer until it finally snapped.

"You wear it well," Xephos said. "Your mask."

Rythian let out a dry chuckle. "Which one?"

"All of them. The one for Lalna, the one for Honeydew. The one you're wearing for me, right now."

He dipped his head. "Thank you."

"Do you ever get tired of it?"

"Yes."

Another silence, briefer.

"Me too."

Chapter Text

"So," Lalna began, dropping himself onto the ground next to Xephos. "Are we goin' to Bridgewater or what?"

"I don't know," Xephos grumbled, "why don't you ask Honeydew? And, for that matter, yourself."

"We're going," Rythian mentioned. He was six meters up a tree, hanging by his knees and playing with a small cloud of ice.

"Oh, says you," Honeydew called up to him. "You can go, but I'm decidin' for meself."

"And are you going?" the mage inquired.

"Of course I'm bloody going!"

"Ah," Rythian commented, "I see."

"Would you come down from there?" Lalna demanded.

"No," Rythian said.

"What are you even doing up there?"

"Having fun, Lalna, what are you even doing down there? Not having fun? That's what I thought."

"You're gonna get yourself killed."

"Yes, probably, but not doing this."

"That is not comforting."

"It isn't meant to be," Rythian sang, and laughed.

"He's out of his goddamn mind," Honeydew commented.

"Maybe," said Xephos. "Maybe he's just got a strange concept of how humans are supposed to act."

"You think he's not human?" Lalna exclaimed.

"You think he is?" Xephos returned.

Lalna's mouth opened and closed a couple of times.

"He's living in denial," Rythian said, just a few feet behind him. Lalna started violently and whirled on him.

"Don't bloody do that!"

"I've heard it's nice this time of year," he added, as if it helped.

"How did you get down from there?"

"Magic."

"You—I—I cannot believe you."

"Oddly enough, that has never deterred me," Rythian said, and gave Lalna a masked peck on the cheek. "Are we going to Bridgewater now, or are we going to stand around talking for an hour? I'm fine with either."

"Oy, look," Honeydew griped, stomping over to Rythian. "I dunno who said you could waltz in here and take our bloody quest, but they didn't have the fucking authority, all right?"

"Who said I was taking your quest?" Rythian asked.

"Well, er, you sort of, have," Xephos mentioned.

"Are you intimidated because I'm stronger than you?" the mage inquired.

"What? No, that's—don't be ridiculous, we're—no!"

"I think he's intimidated," Rythian mentioned to Lalna, side-eyeing Xephos as he sputtered.

"Who isn't?" Lalna countered.

"Idiots and children," Rythian sighed, wistful. "So at least they've passed that test."

"Oy, that's—er, very kind of you, thanks," Honeydew finished lamely.

"Don't get distracted," Xephos snapped.

"What, just 'cause you've got pernus-envy."

"I've got what?!"

"Power-envy, 's what I said. Power envy."

"That is not what you said."

"So it's standing around talking for an hour?" Rythian guessed. "Because if so, I'm going back up in my tree."

"You are not," Lalna told him.

Somewhere under Rythian's mask was a smile full of razors.

"Try and stop me," he challenged, and laughed.

"At this rate, they should call it Dead-in-the-Water," Honeydew griped, glaring at the silent town as though it had personally offended him. "Ain't no bridges here, are there."

"No people, either, apparently," said Lalna, arms folded across his broad chest.

"They're still here," Rythian assured them, lighthouse-eyes fixed on the motionless tableau of a town. "Somewhere."

"Any idea where?" Xephos asked. "We could maybe, er, ask. What's going on, and all."

"What?" Lalna cried.

"That's the dumbest thing I've heard all day," Honeydew commented.

"No!" the scientist continued. "Are you mad?"

"He asks that a lot," Rythian confided. "It's his way of saying he cares."

"Oh, piss off."

"You'd miss me if I did."

"Not for much bloody longer." He turned back to Xephos. "Look, if you want to wander in there all gung-ho and happy-go-lucky, fine. But I'm not goin' and that's that."

"Y'know," said Honeydew, peering up at Lalna, "anyone'd think you had somethin' to hide."

"Oh, stop," Xephos scolded. "What could he possibly have to hide, anyway?"

"You'd be surprised," Rythian told them.

"Like you haven't got anything to hide," he snapped.

"I'm not saying that I don't," Rythian responded. "It's just that everyone knows I'm hiding things. Unlike you, who're pretending to be honest."

"Aha! So he is hiding something!" Honeydew crowed.

"Plenty," Rythian agreed, "but if any of it has to do with this place, it's news to me."

"Oh," said the dwarf, deflating.

"Look, okay, what is so suspicious about not wanting to wander blindly into the spooky ghost-town? Tell me that, would you?"

"Er," said Honeydew.

"Look, that—that isn't the point," Xephos snapped.

"Yeah? Then what is?"

"He's stalling," Rythian said.

"I am not!"

"Really? My mistake. It's just that you're standing there fidgeting and arguing instead of actually leading."

"Leading? Since when was I supposed to be leading?"

"What, would you prefer if Honeydew were in charge?"

"Oy, that's hardly—well, no, I take that back, that's very fair, I am a bit shit."

"And Lalna has about as much leading potential in him as a damp rag—no offense, darling."

Lalna flushed red as a tomato. "N-none taken, er, Ryth."

"And you've already said you don't want me usurping your quest, so the leadership goes to you. And there you are, fidgeting and arguing."

Xephos let out an exasperated groan. "Ugh, fine, let's go find out what the hell is going on. But we are not done with this conversation."

"We're not?" Honeydew asked.

"Look, just—can we just go? Please? Can we do that?"

"All right, all right, no need to get touchy." The dwarf gave him a mischievous look. "Let's split up, gang."

No, Xephos and Lalna chorused.

Rythian just laughed.

"Okay, Ryth," Lalna sighed, leaning his elbows on the freshly cleaned table. "We found the church, and the steeple, so where in the hell are the people?"

He shrugged, crossing his legs and leaning back. "I'm supposed to know this why, exactly?"

"You're the one who thinks there's anyone here."

"I know there are people here. It's not my fault we can't find them." He paused, tilting his head to the side and considering the rafters of the deserted pub. "At least, I think it's people."

"What d'you mean, you think it's people?" Honeydew demanded. "Don't get all creepy and cryptic, fuck's sake."

"I mean it could be a very large number of very smart pigs, or maybe a flock of octopuses."

"Flock?"

"You know what I meant."

"Why octopuses?"

"Why not?"

"Look," Xephos cut in, interposing himself between the mage and the dwarf. "A whole town of people doesn't just vanish into thin air. They must've gone somewhere. Even if they were all dead, there'd be bodies."

Rythian perked up. "Not necessarily."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Honeydew cried.

"It means that matter and energy are interchangeable, with the right magic."

"But that would be an incredible amount of energy!" Lalna objected. "An entire town's worth of people? That'd be enough to blow up the whole world!"

"Yes," Rythian confirmed darkly. "Yes it would."

"You think Is—er, the pale-faced man's done that?" asked Honeydew.

"It's not impossible," he admitted. "If he hasn't yet, he might soon."

"So where are all the people?" Lalna wondered.

"Rythian," Xephos began, "this thing of yours, where you can tell there are people about. Would it work if they were, say, on the other side of a Hellgate?"

Rythian's eyes got very wide.

"Yes," he said, "and I think we know what to look for now."

Chapter Text

Beneath the marble altar in the town's homely church, there was a ragged hole cut down and down and down into the breathing dark, filled with distant hisses and moans and the sharp smell of scorched rock.

"Er," said Honeydew, peering down the steep passage, "don't suppose this's where they keep the wine?"

"It could have been," Rythian piped, raising a finger. "Before they put the Hellgate in."

"That's very helpful, thanks," the dwarf intoned.

"Dunno about the rest of you, but I am not ready to go in no bloody hell-hole," Lalna stated, folding his arms. "Got at least ten things to do before I go walking into certain death."

"Such as?" Rythian inquired, a wicked gleam in his eye. Lalna blushed and sputtered, and Xephos drew Honeydew aside.

"Are you sure we should be taking them with us?"

"They can take care of themselves," Honeydew assured him. "Don't look like much, but they'll be fine."

"No, I meant, can we trust them?"

The dwarf frowned. "Why wouldn't we trust 'em?"

"Because Rythian's out of his bloody mind, and Lalna's—I don't know what Lalna is, but I don't trust him!"

"D'you have to?"

"I'd prefer it!"

"Listen, Xeph, d'you honestly think it matters? If we don't take 'em with us, we're gonna die. If we do take 'em with us and they turn on us, guess what? We're gonna die. Either way, worst-case scenario is the same, so I dunno what you're so fuckin' het up about."

"I—well, it's—it's the principle of the thing," he finished lamely.

"I don't give a fuck about principles. I just want to kill the bastard and be done with it. Settle down somewhere and do some diggin'. Maybe like, I dunno, make Jaffas or some shit. What I don't want to do, friend, is fuckin' die in the goddamn Nether, so you bet your arse I'm takin' every weapon I can and I don't give a damn if it blows up in my face, 'cause at least I fuckin' tried, right? If I'm goin' down, I'm gonna give that pale-face son of a bitch a run for his goddamn money on my way out."

Xephos regarded him for a long moment, then nodded and clapped him on the shoulder.

"You're right, friend. Thanks."

"Ruddy bad day when I've got to be the voice of reason."

He cracked a smile. "Not the worst sort, but yeah, pretty bad."

"Oy," Lalna called, "what're you two plotting over there?"

"None of your business," Honeydew retorted, before turning back to Xephos. "What's the plan, then?"

"Oh, well," Xephos sighed. "Arm ourselves to the teeth, get a good night's sleep, and head to certain doom first thing in the morning."

"I like that plan," Rythian commented, just over Xephos's shoulder. Xephos started, then whirled on him.

"How long have you been there?" he demanded.

Rythian shrugged. "Time isn't real where I'm from."

"Well, where I'm from, we don't go about peering over people's shoulders when they're having private conversations!"

"You don't? Hm. Could have fooled me."

"Leave 'em alone, Ryth," Lalna admonished.

"For now," said Rythian, and drifted off.

The church floor was cold, and he could hear the Hellgate gurgling through it.

It was well past midnight, with moonbeams piercing in through the shoddy stained glass and the sound of crickets filling the darkness with white noise. Lalna and Rythian had found somewhere cozy to curl up for the night, up in the bell tower. Xephos was staring at his own hands, his mind whirring at several thousand revolutions per minute and getting nowhere.

"You're still worryin' about it, aren't you."

Xephos looked up from his inner preoccupations to see Honeydew wearing an uncommonly tender expression. He, too, had the hunted look of sleeplessness about him.

"Hard not to," he admitted. "Especially now that Lalna's back with us."

"Think we should tell him?"

"Tell him what, exactly? I'm still not sure what it all meant."

"Presumably, that this's all happened before," the dwarf said, and plopped down next to Xephos. "I'm refusin' to think about it more than that."

"I just . . . don't know if we should tell him. What it could do to, well, everything. What I'd even say."

"Yeah, I s'pose I think we knew each other in a past life is comin' on a bit strong."

He snorted. "For all I know, he could remember the whole thing."

"Somehow I doubt it."

"Why?"

"Well, for a genius, he is a bit ruddy thick, isn't he. If he'd recognized us, you'd think he would've said."

"I suppose you're right," he hedged. "It still doesn't explain why he's here. Maybe he has a clone somewhere, too?"

"We could kill 'im and find out."

Xephos shuddered. "It's not that important."

"No? S'pose you're right. But I will say, it's bloody unlikely to just be coincidence."

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"And what's that mean?"

"I mean a river runs the same path to the sea, and the more times it does it, the deeper the trench gets."

"Oh dear, he's goin' philosophical."

"Got any better ideas?"

"I didn't say there was anythin' wrong with philosophy."

"You said oh dear," Xephos pointed out.

"Look, are you going to keep on about your river or not?"

He sighed. "Fine. All I'm saying is, what if the time stream is a lot more like a stream than we'd thought? And we're like molecules of water that flow down to the ocean, and evaporate, and get rained onto a mountain and flow right back down the stream again? We might take a slightly different path, but we always end up in the same place and always go back to the same beginning."

"Errrr. . . ."

"What?"

"You lost me at time-evaporation."

"Oh, forget it. Look, you can tell Lalna whatever you like, but if this is the kind of reception I can expect, I'm keeping quiet."

"I ain't sayin' you're wrong, just that you lost me. You might not, him, what with 'im bein' a ruddy genius and all."

"I'm still not sure. I mean, honestly, what good could it do?"

"It'd stop you whinging all goddamn day, that's for sure."

"Would it?"

"Eh, no, prob'ly not, now I think of it."

"Thanks," he said dryly. "But until I can think of a better reason, I'm not saying anything."

"Yeah, all right."

There was a pregnant pause.

"It's eatin' you alive, ain't it," Honeydew said at last.

Xephos sighed. "Yes, friend. I think it is."

"That's shit."

"Yes."

"Anythin' I can do?"

"Just. . . ." He sighed again, hanging his head. "Don't let it happen again. Let it be done. Let it be over."

"Anyone'd think you were tired."

"I am, friend. I am."

Come morning, the motley band of adventurers gathered around the Hellgate, armed to the teeth and covered head to toe in steel plate—save Rythian, who was wearing something so black it seemed to have lost its third dimension.

"The fuck're you wearing?" Honeydew demanded.

Rythian looked down at himself.

"Dark matter," he said. "It's very good. Took me all night, though. I can make you some when we get back, if you'd like."

"Oh? Er, yeah, thanks." He was blushing.

"Welcome," Rythian chimed, smiling.

"How come you didn't make me any?" Lalna pouted.

Rythian shrugged. "I'm not going to let anything hurt you."

Lalna pinkened. "Uh, okay. Fair enough."

"Right," Xephos sighed. "Well. Shall we?"

Hefting his axe, Honeydew said, "Fuckin' let's."

Lalna nodded. Rythian smiled at Xephos.

"After you, fearless leader."

Xephos took a deep breath, fired off a quick prayer to anyone who might be listening, and stepped into the portal.

There was a moment where he was squeezed into a humid darkness thick as tar, where he could neither move nor breathe nor even think, and then suddenly he was standing on solid ground and the heat hit him in a crashing wave, stealing the breath from his lungs. Beside him, Honeydew was coughing, Lalna was leaning dizzily against the wall, and Rythian was swaying on his feet, steaming.

"Oh," the mage commented.

"You all right?" Lalna asked, his voice thick with nausea.

"Mostly," Rythian said. In the red light of hellfire, his eyes had taken on a vibrant violet color that ebbed and flowed at random.

"I don't see any structures," Xephos said, peering out at the horizon. "How're we going to find him?"

"Rythian," Honeydew answered. "He can just follow the people-energy. Right?"

The mage blinked down at him. "Maybe?" he hedged.

"Seriously, Ryth, is there something wrong?"

"No."

"It really looks like there's something wrong with you."

"There isn't," Rythian snapped, and Lalna recoiled. "There is nothing wrong with me!"

Honeydew interposed himself between the two of them. "All right, let's not start this off by bitin' each other's heads off, yeah?"

Rythian seethed, but then subsided, folding his arms and turning away.

"Let's just get this done," he said.

"Er, and are you sure you're, um," Xephos began, wringing his hands.

"Not being mind-controlled?" Rythian filled in acidly. "If I were, you'd already be dead."

"Oh, well, that's comforting," Honeydew drawled, and hefted his axe. "Right. Let's go kill that son of a bitch, yeah?"

"Er," Xephos said again, "we will have to find him first."

Rythian stretched out an arm and pointed. "That way," he said, and before anyone could comment, started off in a swirl of black scarf.

"What is with him?" Xephos wondered.

"Wouldn't ask, if I was you," Lalna replied, following Rythian.

"I really don't like this," he muttered, shaking his head. Honeydew punched him lightly in the shoulder.

"Me neither!" he chimed, and stomped off after the other two.

"This is all going to go horribly wrong," Xephos sighed to himself, and followed.

Chapter Text

"That'll be it, then," Honeydew remarked.

"D'you think?" Lalna inquired, folding his arms.

The dwarf leaned on his axe. "Look, I don't go round takin' the piss out of your observations."

"You do," he pointed out, "you definitely do."

"When? Name one time."

"Can it wait?" Xephos asked. "Because I really think we shouldn't be standing here in plain sight of the giant skull-castle."

Honeydew and Lalna considered this.

"Yeah, fair point," the dwarf conceded.

"Reasonable," Lalna agreed.

Rythian, who had up until this point been standing off to one side and interacting about as much as a tree, suddenly perked up.

"She's here," he breathed, and his eyes were bright.

"What?" said Lalna, but before he could ask another question, Rythian had zipped thirty feet away in a cascade of purple sparks, and then another thirty, zig-zagging towards the menacing facade of the castle.

"Fantastic," Honeydew commented.

"I—oh, god dammit, Ryth!" Lalna cried, taking off after him. He stopped, tugging on his hair, and turned helplessly back to Xephos and Honeydew. "I can't—I just can't—I'm sorry, but I have to—sorry!" And he sprinted off after the ever-more-distant Rythian.

"Well," Honeydew intoned, "this is going brilliantly."

"Come on, friend," Xephos encouraged, "we can't let them go in there alone."

"We can't let us go in there alone, neither!" he objected.

"Look, I'm sure it'll be fine. Come on, we can at least get Daisy out of here."

"Oh, God, Daisy, I'd completely forgot!" He raised his voice, cupping a hand against his mouth and shouting towards the castle. "Don't worry, Daisy! We're comin'!"

"Yes, I'm sure that won't backfire," Xephos commented dryly. "Would you at least try not to announce our presence at the top of your lungs from here on?"

"Oh, err, yeah. Sorry about that."

He sighed. "It's fine. Come on, friend. Let's go save the day."

The castle loomed before them, stretching nearly to the red-rock roof high above, girded on three sides by an ocean of lava. The black facade was punctuated for only a moment by the swirl of Lalna's white lab coat as he darted inside.

It took three long minutes of walking across the scorched earth to finally reach the gate, a hollow space in the teeth of the grinning black skull. As one, the heroes paused on the threshold and looked to each other.

"This is really it, isn't it," Honeydew said.

"I think so," Xephos replied. "Let's—"

Underfoot, the ground began to shiver, and then to rumble and quake. An ear-splitting roar rang off the walls, and something huge and white lanced out of the glowing lava.

"Go!" Xephos shouted, unable to hear himself over the roar, and shoved Honeydew hard in the back. Together, the two of them ran inside, down darkened hallways and sweltering corridors until the roar had faded to a distant thrum.

Breathless, Xephos leaned back against the wall, clutching his sword to his chest.

"What—in the hell—was that?" he gasped.

"Dragon," Honeydew panted. "Was a fuckin' dragon."

"Christ," Xephos hissed. "What the fuck do we do about that?"

"Long's it don't come in here, I say we forget about it. Get Israphel, rescue Daisy, and get the hell out."

Swallowing, Xephos nodded. "R-right. Right. Good plan, friend. So. Okay. If I were Israphel, where would I be?"

"Prob'ly up, somewhere?" Honeydew suggested. "Prob'ly lookin' outta the eyeholes so he can see his kingdom, or whatever."

"Sounds reasonable. All right, up it is. Did you see any stairs on the way in?"

"I'm lucky I didn't bloody piss myself on the way in, I've got no clue."

They searched the castle for several minutes, sticking close together in the labyrinthine dark. Finally, they came across a narrow set of glassy black stairs, rough-hewn and sharp-edged. The stairs were slippery underfoot, and more than once the heroes had to catch each other as they ascended to prevent one or the other's untimely death from a precipitous fall. By the time they reached a lighted room, their legs were quaking with fatigue, their skin crusted with dry salt from their sweat.

"Daisy!" Honeydew cried, stumping forward.

"Don't!" she yelled back, flinging herself against the bars. Xephos started after Honeydew a moment too late—a jagged diamond sword pierced the dwarf's chest, spraying the young maiden with blood. She screamed, scrambling away across the floor of her cell.

Israphel pulled back his sword and let Honeydew fall. The dwarf shivered for a moment, then lay still, his blood pooling around him.

Ruby eyes glanced up to meet Xephos's gaze, and the corner of a lipless white mouth turned up.

"Hello, Xephosss," he hissed. "It'sss been too long."

Xephos roared, throwing himself at the pale abomination standing before him. He swung down at Israphel's shoulder, a blow that certainly would have severed his entire arm. Israphel sidestepped neatly, and something hit Xephos in the back of the head, and the world went dark.

It was so hot he couldn't breathe.

Somehow he managed to pry his eyelids open, and he saw only firelight and red rock. Heaving himself up onto his elbows, he found iron bars on all four sides, a stone slab of a bed and, worst of all, not a single drop of water anywhere in sight.

"Dai . . . sy. . . ." someone croaked.

Xephos started and clambered to the other side of his cell—some distance away was a purple thing that had not registered as living until it spoke.

When he looked more closely, his heart plummeted into his boots.

"Peculier?" he breathed, feeling sick.

The man blinked owlishly, giving a slow shake of his head.

"Dai . . . sy. . . ." he croaked again.

"My God, Peculier, what's happened to you?" he wondered, approaching slowly. So far as he could see, every last inch of Peculier's skin had been dyed purple, and seemed knotted and knobbled with scar tissue. His eyes were a filmy blue, his clothes burned and tattered.

"Dai . . . sy. . . ." he mumbled. "Must . . . find . . . Dai . . . sy. . . ."

"My God," Xephos whispered again, sinking to his knees, his hands curled around the hot iron of the bars. "KP, I—I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Dai . . . sy. . . ."

"I've seen her," he hazarded. Peculier's head lifted, just a fraction. "She was in a cell. Like this one. I've seen her, Peculier, she's here. I could—I could help you find her."

"Find . . . Dai . . . sy. . . ."

"Yes! Yes, exactly! Just let me out, and I'll help you find Daisy. Sound good? Just let me out, and we'll find her together."

"Find . . ." Peculer sighed, and his head drooped again. "Dai . . . sy. . . ."

"Oh, for the love of—Peculier! Listen to me! We can find Daisy! We can rescue her! You just have to let me out of here!"

"He isssn't going to lisssten."

Xephos whirled. Israphel stood at the door of his cell, hands clasped behind his back, a cruel smirk twisting his lipless mouth.

"Why don't you fuck off?" Xephos snapped. Israphel's mouth curled a little further. His red eyes blazed in the light of hellfire.

"He doesssn't underssstand, you sssee," he explained. "It'sss the Flux. It'sss taken hisss mind. If only he could have been ressscued before it wasss too late." A flash of tooth in the hissing mouth. "But you couldn't be bothered, could you."

"We thought he was dead," he retorted.

"Oh, I've heard that one before," Israphel remarked, a wicked look on his lizard-like face. "Doesss Honeydew think you're dead? Will he even come back for you?"

"Of course he will!" Xephos cried. Israphel laughed, cruel and mocking.

"How many timesss, Xephosss? How many timesss will he come back for you before he givesss up?"

"As many as it takes," he asserted, squaring his shoulders. "He'll always come back for me."

Israphel regarded him in silence, his head tipped to one side. Slowly, he walked forward through the bars as though they were no more than smoke. Xephos pressed himself against the ones behind him, wishing he could do the same.

"I hate," Israphel hissed, "that faccce. I have alwaysss hated that faccce. Ssso full of falssse hope. Ssso naïve."

"You stay back," Xephos warned, while Israphel approached inexorably.

"I will ssso enjoy ripping it off," he opined, flexing black-clawed fingers.

"You won't!" he squeaked, trying to squeeze himself between the bars. He reached out a flailing hand towards Peculier. "Help me," he hissed.

Israphel laughed again, and it sent chills down Xephos's spine. There was something hauntingly familiar about that laugh.

"He can't," Israphel assured him. "He won't. Why would he? You dessserted him. You left him to die. I think he'll quite enjoy watching you get your faccce ripped off."

Xephos kicked out at Israphel. He snatched his ankle in one hand and yanked, bringing Xephos crashing to the ground. His head cracked against one of the iron bars, and he saw sparks.

A steel-cable hand closed around his throat and lifted him up, until he was staring straight into Israphel's gleaming red eyes. He clutched at his wrist, clawing with his fingernails, but Israphel's grip was unrelenting.

"I'm going to enjoy thisss," he murmured, pressing the tips of his fingernails to Xephos's hairline. "Essspecially if you ssscream. Do ssscream for me, Xephosss, won't you?"

The needle-sharp fingernails dug in, piercing beneath his skin and beginning to pull. Xephos screamed.

"Good," Israphel praised, dragging his fingers down, down toward Xephos's eyebrows, clawing deep troughs into his skin. Blood dribbled down Xephos's face, across his lips, and dripped off his chin.

"Stop!" he wheezed, trying to get his feet underneath him. "Stop!"

Israphel laughed, low and cruel. His fingernails reached Xephos's nose and lost purchase, and he tore away the skin he'd plowed up.

"No," he purred, "I'm enjoying thisss far too much to ssstop. Keep ssscreaming, Xephosss, I like the sssound."

"Get your fucking hands off me!" Xephos squealed, kicking him in the shin. Israphel threw him clear across the room. Xephos hit the opposing bars hard and tumbled to the floor, his breath knocked out, blood streaming down his face.

"You want thisss to ssstop, Xephosss?" Israphel inquired, approaching slowly. "Then tell me where the Treasure of the Templar Kingsss resssidesss, and I'll sssimply kill you."

"What in the hell do you want with that?" he spat, rolling onto hands and knees, shaking.

"To make it ssstop," he explained. "To make it all ssstop for good. I will unmake thisss world."

"You bloody will not," said Xephos.

"Ssso naïve," Israphel remarked, shaking his head. "You haven't figured it out yet. But you will, Xephosss, you will. You'll sssee thingsss my way sssoon enough."

"I will never see things your way," he snarled, fists clenching. Israphel laughed at him again.

"Ssso naïve. Ssso foolish." He darted forward and grabbed Xephos by the throat again.

"Get—off!" Xephos choked, kicking him.

"Now," Israphel murmured, touching his fingernails to Xephos's scalp. "Where wasss I?"

Chapter Text

Consciousness filtered in slowly, once sense at a time. First there was an awareness that he was lying on hot, unyielding rock; then the smell of brimstone and scorched earth; then a dull, throbbing pain over his entire face. Next was the taste of blood, followed by firelight and red stone.

And then, a sound.

"Psst."

He somehow managed to roll over, peering through fogged eyes and the bars of his cell. An iron helm and half of a ginger beard were poking up through a hole in the ground.

"Honeydew?" he croaked.

"Oh, Jesus Christ," the dwarf cursed. "You look like hell."

"Yes, thank you," Xephos commented, pushing himself up onto one elbow. "How bad is it?"

"Er, let me put it this way: you haven't really got a face left."

Xephos sighed, hanging his head. "Fantastic. Well. Help?"

"That's the plan," said Honeydew, and saluted. He hoisted himself out of the hole and crossed to the bars, fingering his pick.

"Where's Lalna? And Rythian?"

"We busted Daisy out first. Lalna's takin' her back through the portal just now, but he'll be here soon enough."

"You left him alone?"

"Oy, he can take care of himself."

"Honeydew, he can die!"

"Oh. Er, didn't think of that. Shit."

"For God's—at least tell me Rythian's with him."

Honeydew shook his head and scratched his beard. "Haven't seen him since he ran off."

"Fantastic. Well. Look, will you just get me out of here?"

"I'm workin' on it!"

"No you're not! You're just standing there like a—like a standing . . . thing!"

"I'm thinkin'."

"Look, Israphel could be back at any second. We haven't got time for thinking! And—and! We've got to rescue Old Peculier!"

Honeydew started, his eyes bugging out. "K. P.? I thought he was dead!"

"He . . . might still be. It's difficult to tell. Listen, we'll figure it out later, it's not important right now."

"All right, all right, gimme a second, here, it's not like I've done this before."

"Oh, my God, it's not like it's hard!"

"Speak for yourself!"

"Look, just dig a tunnel underneath. Okay? D'you think you can do that? Just tunnel under, and I'll crawl out, it's simple."

"It's not! There's lava under that rock." He pointed to the floor. "It'd cook you alive if you got deep enough to go under."

"Then break the bars!"

"Oh, right, like it's that easy. I'll just chew through them, shall I?"

"Honeydew!"

"All right, fine! Stop yelling, Christ's sake, keep your face on."

"I haven't got a face!" Xephos squeaked. His head was spinning.

"Oh, yes you have, it's just a bit, you know, knackered at the moment. Still got lips, that's for goddamn sure." He scratched his beard again and leaned on his pickaxe. "Okay, how's this: I'll try and bend the bars so you can slip out. You're a beanpole, shouldn't be that hard."

"I don't care! Just hurry!"

With a clang, Honeydew set the curve of his pickaxe against one of the bars. He braced his shoulder against the next bar down and pulled. There was a great groaning sound—half of it coming from Honeydew himself—before the pickaxe slipped and the dwarf went tumbling off.

Xephos scrambled to the bars, trying to get a look at where Honeydew had gone. The dwarf stood, brushing himself off, and stumped over to Xephos.

"Is it workin'?"

Xephos examined the bars. "Er, no," he answered. "Nothing."

"Damn," said Honeydew, and clicked his teeth. "Should I give it another go?"

"No time. We'll have to figure something else out." An idea occurred to him. "Have you got any TNT on you?"

"What? Well, I mean, yeah, but if I set it off this close to you, it'll bloody kill you."

"It won't," Xephos assured him, although he'd started shaking. "Look—help me flip this slab over." He gestured to what had passed for his bed. "We'll prop it up and I'll hide behind it. That should keep me from getting, you know, blown up. This red rock stuff is pretty soft, it should go easy."

"Yeah, but it'll kill you," Honeydew reiterated. "It don't matter about the shrapnel, which is all that rock's gonna keep off you. I set that shit off this close to you, and you will die. Ain't no question about it."

"Well good! I'll wake up back—wherever I wake up!"

Honeydew gaped at him.

"You don't—you can't mean that."

"I do! Just get me out of here, I don't care what it takes!"

"Jesus Christ, Xeph, I'm not going to kill you!"

"Well then—well then give me your damn sword!"

Honeydew leapt back, clasping his sword in one meaty hand. "No! I'm not gonna let you kill yourself!"

"It's not like it's not happened before!"

"Yeah, and what if Israphel's broken the clones, what then?"

"He—look, he hasn't broken the clones, he doesn't even know where they are."

"But what if he has? There's got to be a better way that doesn't involve you bloody dyin' in there!"

"We haven't got time!" Xephos cried, exasperated. He moved to bury his face in his hands, then thought better of it and mussed his hair instead. "Look, I'm not asking you to stay and watch. Just—I've got to get out of here, Honeydew. I've got to, no matter what it takes. Just let me do this, please."

There were tears in the dwarf's eyes. "I don't want to," he croaked.

Xephos reached a hand through the bars. "Please, Honeydew. I promise you, it will be all right. I will be all right. We'll make it through this. Just—just give me the sword, and run. Get out of here as fast as you can. Find Lalna, find Rythian, we'll regroup and try again, it'll be fine."

Honeydew sniffled. "Sure you don't want the dynamite? Might be, y'know, quicker. Easier."

"Oh, God, I can't believe we're discussing this," Xephos grumbled. "Fine, yes, that and something to light it with, now will you go?"

Honeydew hesitated a moment longer, then slung off his pack. He rooted around inside for only a moment before pulling out four long sticks and a striker. Hands shaking, he passed everything through the bars to Xephos.

"You'd better come back," he warbled, then scurried away as fast as his legs would take him, back down his hole in the floor.

Xephos looked at the explosives in his hand—they seemed so innocuous, so simple, and yet they were monstrously heavy with the promise of death.

Quickly, before he could steel or second-guess himself, he bundled the fuses together and lit them—it took three tries to get the striker to work, but his mind was moving so much slower than his hands that he hardly noticed.

He stared at the lit dynamite, slowly burning away the seconds to his death.

"Oh my God, what am I doing?" he cried, and hurled the dynamite as hard as he could at the opposing wall, diving for his bed and struggling fruitlessly to lift it.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" he cursed, while the fuses hissed and the sticks clattered and rolled around the inside of his cell.

There was a moment of blinding, all-consuming agony, and then darkness.

Xephos gasped in a breath and choked on it—the smell of sulphur and gunpowder was thick in the oven-hot air. Something warm and sticky was covering the floor, dripping from the ceiling, and he realized in slow horror as he took in his surroundings that it was himself.

He screamed, flinging himself at the bars, covered in his own blood. Shards of his bones crunched under his feet and he slipped on his own scattered intestines in his mad scramble to get away from himself.

"Honeydew!" he cried, forcing himself as far through the bars as he could go. "Honeydew, help me!"

His chest squeezed between the bars and suddenly he couldn't breathe, could go neither forward nor back. His feet kicked against the blood-slicked ground and his hand clawed at nothing, grasping empty air on the other side of the bars.

"Help me," he wheezed, while stars gathered in his vision. Each shallow gasp of breath crushed his chest and spine together, pressed on his heart and his starving lungs. He sagged as his legs went out from under him, but he was so firmly wedged that he did not slip down between the bars. His hand, dangling, twitched in a futile reach for freedom. His vision darkened, and a great roaring filled his ears, and slowly, the world faded.

When he woke again, gasping sweet air, Rythian was standing upon the blood-crusted floor in the center of his cell, looking around with mild bemusement on his face.

"Oh," he said, and raised a hand. "Hello."

"What are you doing here?" Xephos demanded, shoving himself to his feet. His knees wobbled beneath him. "Where have you been?"

"Rescuing you," Rythian answered. "And I don't think the second one really matters."

"How—wait, how did you find me?"

"Does that matter?"

"Yes—no—well, eventually, it will!"

Rythian shrugged. "Okay." He held out a hand. "We should go."

Eyes narrowed, Xephos folded his arms. "Go where?"

"Out of here."

"Can't you just—" he gestured vaguely. "Freeze the bars or something?"

"What? No, that doesn't work here."

"What d'you mean, that doesn't work here?" he cried, voice cracking.

"I mean it doesn't work here. Don't worry. I can still get you out. I got in, after all."

"Look like you could bloody squeeze through the bars," Xephos grumbled, regarding Rythian's outstretched hand with extreme suspicion.

Rythian's eyes crinkled. "I wouldn't know. I haven't tried."

After a moment's further consideration, Xephos placed his hand in Rythian's. The mage caught hold of him and pulled him close—it was a gentle movement, but irresistible, and Xephos found himself folded in a pair of arms like steel cables, his cheek pressed against cool black cloth.

"This is going to be very unpleasant," Rythian warned him, "but only briefly."

Rythian buzzed, rattling Xephos's teeth in his head, and he could feel the world spinning under him, whirling at impossible speeds around a strange sun that, in turn, hurtled through the void from nowhere and towards nothing. His feet were lifting off the ground, his flesh was crawling, his bones were hollowing themselves, and then—

vwip

Darkness, vast and cold and impossibly empty, stretching off to infinity in all directions, boiling his flesh and freezing his blood and clawing with greedy fingers at his mind until—

paff!

—they reappeared a meter outside the cell, and Xephos's knees gave out, and Rythian let him fall and retch clear bile onto the red-rock floor.

At some point, he found Rythian squatting next to him, one hand resting on his back, his glowing eyes full of concern.

"You're all right now," the mage assured him. "But you need to get up. We don't have much time."

"What—" Xephos panted, wiping sick from his lips, "the hell—did you just do to me?"

"It's called void-skipping, and I'll explain more later. You need to get up now, Xephos."

He tried to rise, but his knees were so weak that Rythian had to duck under his arm and support half of his weight.

"Is Honeydew all right?" Xephos asked, while Rythian helped him stumble towards the hole in the floor.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I haven't seen him."

"Where the hell were you?"

"Talking to Gnista."

"Who the hell is Gernista?"

Rythian glanced at him as they began to descend. "The dragon."

Everything was spinning. He was going to pass out and tumble down these too-steep stairs, he was sure of it.

"Oh," he commented, "fantastic. So you've been talking to the dragon. Well! Grand. What'd it have to say?"

"She," Rythian corrected. "She was . . . combative."

"You fought the dragon."

"I wouldn't say that."

"Then what did you do?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Did you at least kill it?"

Rythian's horrified look told him all he needed to know, but the mage spoke anyway.

"No! And she's a her, not an it."

"Then is it—she, sorry—on our side, at least?"

"Nnno," Rythian admitted. "But I don't think she's on Israphel's side, either."

"Then whose bloody side is she on?"

"Her own?" he postulated. "She said she was going to find somewhere to wait out the storm."

"What storm?"

Rythian shot him a look.

"Right. The us-storm. Okay, we're a storm now. Fantastic. Where the hell is Honeydew?"

"With Lalna, probably."

"And where the hell is Lalna?"

"With Daisy."

"And where the hell is she?"

"I don't know. How could I know?"

"You're useless!"

"Useless? I just rescued you from—"

"I don't care!"

"I could just throw you into lava. That is a thing I could do."

"Fine, do it! I don't care!"

"You'd end up back—"

"I don't care!"

Rythian paused. "I probably should have seen that coming."

"Can we please just get out of here and find Honeydew? He'll be worried sick about me."

"Aw."

"What aw?"

"You're cute."

"I am not—cute!"

"Well then he's cute."

Xephos considered this.

"Yeah," he conceded eventually, "he's a bit cute."

Chapter Text

They were within sight of the portal home when a great swell of lava flooded their path, and from its glowing depths Israphel emerged, wreathed in flame but untouched by it, heat rolling from his skin in shimmering waves.

He caught sight of Rythian and detonated, shattering the ground at his feet and flinging them back in a concussive blast, yet he remained unaffected at the center of the explosion.

Xephos hit the ground hard and tumbled head over heels until he slammed into a wall. Next to him, Rythian had managed to keep his feet, but was disoriented and tipsy.

"You," Israphel snarled, advancing upon them. The heat emanating from him was unbearable, and his footprints glowed molten on the ground.

"Run," Rythian said, his eyes fixed upon Israphel. Xephos gaped at him, discombobulated. "Xephos, run. Right now. Get up. Xephos, run."

Xephos struggled to get to his feet, but his limbs would not stay underneath him. The world was spinning again, and he could not find his footing amidst the topsy-turvy carnival ride of it.

Rythian cursed under his breath. The heat was starting to singe Xephos's clothes, and Israphel was almost upon them now, teeth bared in fury.

vwip

Israphel blurred, shooting like a comet across the landscape, and the next image Xephos could process was Rythian clawing at the hand around his throat, feet kicking uselessly as he dangled, glowing eyes wide with terror.

"I've waited a long time for thisss," Israphel hissed, grinning. Rythian kicked him in the chest—he might as well have kicked a stone statue. Israphel tipped his head to the side, his lizard smile widening.

"What'sss wrong, Rythian? Frightened? I don't recall fear being among your repertoire."

"I—don't—know—you!" Rythian choked.

"Oh, that ssstingsss," Israphel murmured. "I remember you, Rythian. Oh, I do remember you."

Rythian's outline went fuzzy, and there was a vwip, paff! and an explosion of purple sparks, but Rythian did not move from Israphel's clenched hand. He let out a stifled scream and redoubled his struggling, and Israphel laughed.

"That old trick isssn't going to work again," he assured him, drawing his sword. "And asss much asss I'd love to take the proper number of daysss to kill you, alasss, I do have more important thingsss to do."

Xephos shoved at the ground underneath him, but it slipped away, leaving him to tumble down onto his shoulder and crack his head against the rock.

"Help," Rythian wheezed. His struggles had grown feeble.

Israphel ran him through.

"No!" Xephos screamed, flailing against the ground, gaining inches at a time towards the pair.

Israphel glanced at him, and there was another concussion, and his back slammed into the wall again while sparks swarmed over his vision. He watched Israphel stab Rythian again, and again, and again, until blood spattered and hissed onto the steaming rock floor and Rythian stopped kicking.

"Ssstill alive?" Israphel inquired. He slammed Rythian onto the ground and the mage let out a brief cry. Israphel grinned. "Not for long."

Xephos staggered to his feet and managed a few stumbling steps before his knees gave out, but he forced himself to try again, no matter how sick and dizzy he was, because Israphel was dragging Rythian by his throat to the lava nearby, was kneeling next to him, forcing his head towards the molten rock. Xephos dared not cry out again, but he prayed under his breath to whomever might be listening, while Rythian struggled feebly as his hair began to burn.

With a sudden and unceremonious shove, Israphel dunked Rythian's head into the lava, and the body went still.

Xephos screamed, fury and grief and helplessness, and Israphel turned to him with a knowing smirk and Rythian's blood boiling on his hands.

Something terrible burst from the lava, something screaming and monstrous, that tore through Rythian's body like it was an old suit of clothes, that swept Israphel up in jagged black claws and shook the earth with its movement.

Xephos ran for the portal as fast as his faltering legs would carry him, always rising when he fell, and never once daring to look back.

He found them in a makeshift hut not far from the portal, and he stumbled inside and retched on the floor. Somehow Lalna was by his side, and Honeydew was cursing, and someone with a high and mild voice was giving instructions.

"Hold still, damn you," Lalna told him, taking his face in his hands. "Jesus, look at you, you've gotta be concussed."

"Out of the way," mandated the third person. A swirl of pale blonde hair and a flowery dress settled in front of Xephos, shoving Lalna aside.

"But—"

"No! No buts. I'm going to clean him up, and you're going to make a load of those pink potions."

"But, Daisy—"

"Lalna."

"Fine, I'll do it," Lalna sighed, and shoved himself to his feet.

Huge, seaglass eyes stared into Xephos's face, and there was a small smile upon delicate lips.

"Hallo," she greeted him. "I'm Daisy. You've got a lot of cuts and things all over you. Is it all right if I clean them?"

"Huh? Uh, yeah, all right," he said, then looked around. "Where's Honeydew?"

The dwarf materialized at his shoulder. "Right here," he assured him. "Christ, you look like hell. I mean, not as much hell as before, but still. A bit hell."

"You okay?" Xephos asked, while Daisy dabbed at his face with a damp cloth.

"Me? Yeah, I'm fine. Where's Rythian?"

Xephos shuddered. "He's . . . dead. I think."

There was the sound of shattering glass.

"What?" Lalna demanded, his voice cracking.

"Israphel . . . I mean, he couldn't have survived."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"Shush," Daisy snapped. "You can talk about this after you've fixed his concussion."

"Rythian's not dead," Lalna maintained.

"Potions," she repeated. "Now, please."

"He is," Xephos confided in her, while she cleaned a cut above his eye. "He's got to be."

Daisy nodded, a deep sadness lining her face. "I'm sorry," she said.

"No you're not," Lalna barked. "Stop talking about him like he's dead!"

"Oy, all right," Honeydew said, his voice choked. "Let's all just . . . stop yelling at one another. All right? Can we do that?"

"I wasn't yelling," Xephos pointed out. His lips were numb, and his tongue was heavy in his mouth.

Honeydew patted his shoulder. "I know you weren't, friend. Don't you worry, we'll have you fixed up in no time."

Lalna stormed into view and dumped three pink bottles into Daisy's lap. "There's your bloody potions," he spat, and stalked out, slamming the door behind him.

Clicking her teeth, Daisy uncorked one of the bottles and handed it to Xephos. He accepted it and stared at it, befuddled.

"Drink up," she encouraged.

Obediently, Xephos put the bottle to his lips and took a deep sip. He nearly spat it all out again, for the drink was bitter and fizzed against his tongue. Managing to swallow it, he found his head clearing upon the instant. He forced down another sip, then drained the bottle. He looked down at his hands, covered in cuts, and watched the skin seal over.

"Oh, God," he commented. "I hope he's not gone back through the portal."

"I'll get him," Honeydew declared, leaping to his feet. Xephos grabbed his arm, arresting him.

"Don't. Last thing we need is three people dead in there."

"Yeah, but—"

"He's right," Daisy said. "Though he might still be a bit concussed."

"Looks fine to me. You feel all right, friend?"

Xephos considered this. "I feel better," he decided.

"So are we just going to wait for Lalna to come back?" Honeydew demanded.

"It seems like the wisest plan," Daisy said. She got to her feet and held out a hand to Xephos. He took it, and she helped him to stand, though her head only came up to his chest.

"Er, thanks," said Xephos. "For, y'know, taking care of me."

"Thank you for coming for me," Daisy replied.

"Sorry it went a bit pear-shaped."

"Look, I'm sure we're all very grateful and sorry and what the fuck ever," Honeydew cut in, "but are we seriously just going to leave Lalna and Rythian in there?"

"Rythian's dead," Xephos repeated.

"How sure are you?" said Honeydew.

"Very, very sure."

"I'm goin' after Lalna. He might've not gone through the portal."

"Honeydew—"

"What?"

"Just . . . don't go in there."

The dwarf nodded, settled his helmet on his head, and stomped out. Xephos sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"We will have to go back eventually," he mentioned to Daisy. "To rescue Old Peculier."

She stiffened, then turned away from him. "That . . . thing isn't Peculier."

Frowning, he asked, "It's not?"

"Maybe it was, once," she admitted, then shrugged. "All I know is it used to be a pile of flesh and straw—a horrible, ugly scarecrow—and then Israphel turned it purple and called it Peculier and it kept saying my name."

"It looked like Peculier."

"Did it?" Daisy demanded, rounding on him. "Or did you just assume it was him? Like I said, maybe it was Peculier, once, but it's not anymore. Whatever it is, leave it down there. I don't want anything to do with it."

"Daisy," Xephos began, and then hesitated. "Er, what I mean to say is, last time I saw Peculier, he was . . . well, he fell into this sort of . . . green, glowing stuff. We—Honeydew and I—we thought he was, well, dead."

"Honestly? I'd prefer that to him being stuck in some horrible monster-body under Israphel's control. Every time I'd try to get away, that thing would come get me, but it didn't recognize me. I think it would have done the same to any woman."

"It certainly sounded like Peculier."

She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. "I know. And maybe it is—was, him. Maybe it's all that's left. But if it is, it's not much. It's not . . . enough."

Xephos reached out a hand, paused, then placed it on her shoulder. "We're going to fix this, Daisy," he promised.

She looked up at him and smiled, her eyes shining with tears.

"No you're not," she told him. "You can't."

He recoiled. "Why not?"

"Some things just can't be fixed."

Honeydew returned with Lalna in tow only a few minutes later, by which time Daisy was fiddling with the potion stand and Xephos was eating an entire chicken by himself.

"Oh, good, you're back," Xephos sighed, covering his mouth with one hand. "Glad you're both all right."

"We're going back for him," Lalna declared, his voice tight.

"C'mon, Lalna, we can't—" Honeydew began, but the scientist cut him off.

"You don't know him like I do. He isn't dead."

"Lalna," Xephos murmured, setting down his chicken leg. "Israphel . . . Israphel ran him through six, maybe seven times. Then he dunked his head in lava. I'm sorry, but—"

"But what? No one could have survived that? You don't know him like I do."

"How could he possibly have lived through that?" Honeydew demanded.

"Well," Daisy volunteered, "I've seen Israphel go through—cause—much worse and come out just fine."

"But he's Israphel," Xephos pointed out. "And there was . . . something else. Some thing that came up out of the lava. I ran, but it . . . I mean, there wasn't much left of Rythian, last I saw."

Lalna's eyes narrowed, and he folded his arms. "You were concussed," he pointed out.

"Yes, but I wasn't hallucinating," Xephos retorted.

"You might've been."

"It tore him to shreds, Lalna. Even if we do go back for him, all we're going to find is bits."

"You don't know that."

"Er," Honeydew butted in, "sorry to say, but it sort of sounds like he does. But, that said, we are going to have to go back to, y'know, kill the shit out of Israphel."

"There, see? Exactly," Lalna said. "We'll have to go back anyway."

"Oh no. No. You're not coming," Xephos told him.

"I bloody well am!"

"You'll get killed!"

"I think that's my problem, not yours."

"Look, this isn't your fight."

"I'm making it my fight. If he has killed Rythian—which, believe me, he hasn't—then I'm gonna cave his fucking face in with my bare hands. And besides, you two could use all the help you can get."

"That's . . . insulting," Honeydew remarked. "But fair."

"I am not going to let you run in there and kill yourself!"

"Yeah? Try and bloody stop me."

Xephos turned to Daisy, appealing. "Tell him!"

She cocked her head. "Tell him what, exactly?"

"That he's being thick!"

"I think you're all being thick."

"That's true," Honeydew put in.

"And I also think that if you're going to run in there like a bunch of idiots—which clearly you are—you're going to need to be much better prepared."

"Also true," said the dwarf.

"Look, we haven't got time—" Lalna began.

"To what?" Daisy interrupted, rounding on him. "Get yourselves killed? What you don't have time for is failure, so you had better be prepared when you go."

Lalna frowned, hunching his shoulders. "Fine," he conceded.

"Okay, well," Xephos sighed. "Daisy, you seem to be the expert. What'll we need?"

"Brains would be a good start," she told him sweetly, and smiled.

Chapter Text

Xephos lay awake, staring at the ceiling and listening to Honeydew snore. Outside, the portal let out a particularly unhappy gurgle, and he sat up, his hand straying to his sword. There were footsteps, barely audible under the snoring, but growing ever nearer. He gathered his feet under him and picked up his sword, eyes fixed on the door.

It drifted open, and Xephos shot to his feet, mouth agape. Rythian put a finger to his lips and beckoned to him before slipping out into the night again. Xephos followed, catching Rythian by the elbow as soon as they were outside.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded, his voice low and strained.

Rythian frowned. "Am I supposed to be somewhere else?"

"You're supposed to be dead!" And then, at the shocked look on Rythian's face, he amended, "I mean, you were. You were dead."

"I think I would remember being dead," Rythian remarked. He extracted his elbow from Xephos's hand and sat down with his back to a tree. After a fuming moment, Xephos joined him.

"He ran you through six times."

"Five," Rythian corrected.

"He dunked your head in lava!"

"Unpleasant, I admit."

"And then that—that horrible black thing—"

Rythian winced and turned his face away.

"What was that?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Rythian said, as though reading the line from a cue-card.

"What d'you mean, you don't—"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Rythian snapped. "I blacked out."

Xephos considered him for a long moment, scowling.

"You're lying," he said at last. "What was that—"

"Do you want my help?" Rythian interrupted.

"I—well, I mean, I suppose we, er, well, yes, I think."

Suddenly, there was a hand fisted in his shirt, and blazing violet eyes glaring into his own.

"Then stop asking questions," Rythian snarled, and shoved Xephos onto his back. The mage stalked back to the hut and slipped inside, and Xephos followed him, his heart thudding in his chest.

When he came in, Lalna was hugging Rythian and the mage was smiling fondly into his shoulder.

"I knew you weren't dead," Lalna declared, choked.

"Dead?" Rythian inquired. "Who told you I was dead?"

"Xephos," Lalna sniffled. "I didn't believe him."

"Of course not. Because you're very intelligent."

He chuckled damply. "I'm glad you're all right."

Rythian kissed his cheek. "I'm glad you're all right," he responded.

Xephos became aware of a presence at his elbow, and looked down to see Daisy standing beside him.

"Is that him?" she asked.

"That's him," Xephos confirmed.

"Why's he wearing—"

"Don't ask."

She nodded. "I guess Lalna was right about him."

Xephos sighed. "I'm not sure anyone's right about Rythian," he said.

There was a lull. Lalna was asking what had happened, and Rythian was weaving around answering like a river around rocks. Honeydew was still snoring.

"Seems like a useful person to have on your side," Daisy remarked.

"Provided he stays there, yes."

"You don't trust him?"

"I don't trust anyone who can live through what he did."

"So you don't trust Honeydew, either?"

Xephos stiffened. "That's different."

"How do you know?"

"Honeydew doesn't lie."

"Had you ever considered that that's only because he has no good reason to?"

"And Rythian does?"

"You can't tell me you've never lied to a friend."

Xephos quieted. Then, he demanded, "Why are you sticking up for him? You don't even know him."

"Why are you condemning him?" she returned. "You clearly don't either."

Scowling, he folded his arms. "Just don't ask me to trust him."

"No one's asking that."

"Good. 'Cause it won't happen."

"Until?"

Puzzled, he asked, "Until, what?"

"What would it take for you to trust him?"

"I'll think about it."

She snorted. "For the record, I don't trust any of you morons."

"Lovely," he intoned, "thanks for that."

"And you won't get me to go back through that portal for anything."

"I don't blame you. I wouldn't, either, if I had a choice."

"Who says you don't?"

This stumped him, but he was saved from saying so by Rythian arriving to introduce himself to Daisy.

"She's so small," he remarked. "Are you a dwarf, too?"

Even in the darkness, Xephos could see her blush. "No, I'm just a small human."

"So cute," Rythian breathed. "I love her."

Daisy's blush deepened. Rythian was still holding her hand in both of his.

"He says that to everyone," Xephos informed her, impertinent. "Now can we all go back to sleep? We do have to save the world in the morning."

Daisy glared at him and took her hand back from Rythian, who gave Xephos a look that made his chest hair shrivel. Xephos stalked back to his bed and tucked himself in, and studiously ignored the rest of the room until there was silence again.

The Nether was hotter than ever inside the personal oven of his armor, and the hilt of his sword was slick in his sweating hand. At his side, Honeydew shifted his grip on his axe—on his other side, Lalna was notching an arrow to the string of his bow.

Rythian was standing apart, his expression unreadable, his fists tight at his sides.

"Rythian?" Xephos asked. The mage's head lifted a fraction. "If he comes after you again, don't . . . er, well . . . wuss out, please?"

"I was trying to keep you alive," Rythian replied, his voice icy.

"You were terrified."

He shrugged. "Fine. This time, I'll let you die in the crossfire."

"Oy, that's enough of that," Honeydew butted in. "We can bicker when we're done here."

Xephos sighed. "Right. Yes. Okay, good plan."

"D'you figure he's in the castle?" Lalna asked.

"I'd guess so. I doubt he's not expecting us, and that would be the logical place to—"

There was a shriek, and Xephos leapt aside on instinct, dragging Honeydew down with him. Behind them, something exploded against the ground, sending red-hot shards of rock ricocheting around the landscape.

"Or, we could start now!" Xephos cried, scrambling to his feet.

Lalna had his bow at full draw and was taking aim at the huge white creature that floated out amongst the red murk of the Nether. His lab coat was smoldering.

"Behind you!" Rythian warned, pointing between Xephos and Honeydew. Xephos whirled and was confronted with an advancing army of flames, swirling in slow tornadoes as they approached across the lava.

Lalna loosed his arrow, and the white creature let out a long, descending scream, plummeting into the lava below. Without pausing, Lalna slung off his pack and removed four potions, tossing one to each of his companions.

"Fire resistance!" he explained, and chugged his bottle down. Xephos followed suit. The potion was bitter and slimy against his tongue, almost like he was drinking liquid soap. It made his skin feel slimy, too, as though his sweat was congealing on him.

"Lalna, get to higher ground, keep those white things off us," Xephos instructed. The scientist nodded once and legged it towards the nearest jutting outcrop of red stone. "Rythian, can you clear us a path through those things?"

The flaming creatures were growing ever closer, spreading out their ranks to cover more ground.

"No," Rythian answered.

"No? What do you mean, no?"

"I've told you, the ice powers don't work here."

"Then what bloody good are you?"

"I'm going to find Israphel's power source and cut him off from it."

"How—what? How do you even know he's got one?"

"Mortal bodies can't hold the kind of power he has. It would kill him."

"How do you know he's mortal?"

Rythian winked at him. "Trust me. I know a god when I see one."

"Oy," Honeydew interrupted, "what are we supposed to do about the bloody fire-tornadoes between us and him?"

Rythian shrugged. "You're immune to fire for the next eight minutes. I'd start running."

Xephos and Honeydew glanced at each other, then broke into a flat-out sprint towards the castle. A great howling came to them, the furnace-sound of whirling fire, that grew deafening as they drew near the fiery creatures blocking their path. Somewhere in the distance, another floating monster screamed out its death.

"Good man," Xephos panted.

They were almost upon the blazing regiment, and fire spat and hissed out at them, brushing hot discomfort across their protected skin. Xephos took Honeydew's hand and forged into the flaming mass.

The air was too hot to breathe, and he could scarcely see through the whirling fire all around them. Something struck his back and he stumbled—something else took his legs out from under him and he fell hard enough to knock his breath out. Honeydew lashed out at the nearest creatures, striking something in their interiors with the grating sound of metal-on-metal. The furnace howling grew even louder, and Xephos struggled to his feet, putting his back against Honeydew's.

"Seven minutes," he said.

"Plenty of time!" the dwarf crowed, and struck out again, cackling like a madman.

"Careful!" Xephos warned, but Honeydew was already lost, dancing amongst the burning vortices with wild abandon.

More flames flickered across his body, some impacting him with staggering force. He was surrounded by the creatures, but focused only on one at a time, striking at the solid metal core until the vortex spun itself into oblivion. One after another, the creatures fell to him, even while the others hurled fire at his feet and careened into his back, knocking him to the ground repeatedly. Once, he nearly toppled into the lake of lava, only to have Honeydew catch him by the wrist at the last moment and haul him back to safety. There was only time for a nod of thanks before they were both off again into the fray, the flames growing steadily hotter against their skin.

"We're out of time!" Xephos called to Honeydew as he felled another creature. "We've got to run for it!"

"Dammit," Honeydew snarled. "Just when I was startin' to enjoy meself!"

Xephos took off for the skull-castle, swiping his sword at any creature that got in his way. He could hear Honeydew thudding along behind him, cursing at the monsters and occasionally striking one with his axe.

As the sliminess sloughed off of him, and the heat of his armor began to burn his skin, Xephos stumbled in through the front gate of the castle and turned. Honeydew was lagging behind, sprinting as fast as his legs would carry him, with the remaining dozen creatures hot on his tail.

"Come on!" Xephos encouraged, waving frantically. "Honeydew, come on! We'll shut them out!"

The dwarf put his head down and found another gear somewhere, gaining inches and degrees between himself and the army behind him. He leapt through the gate, and Xephos hauled on the crank, bringing the portcullis down. Honeydew stepped up to him and together they shoved the huge stone doors closed and dropped the bar across. The creatures outside thudded against the portcullis and howled, and Honeydew and Xephos sank to the floor, gasping for breath.

"Well," Xephos remarked. "That went well."

Honeydew snorted and leaned his head back against the door. "Okay. Now what?"

"Find Israphel?"

"Yeah, but what about all that out there?" He cocked a thumb at the commotion outside. "I don't think we're lucky enough that all that's gonna go away just 'cause we kill the big baddie."

"Look, it's—it'll be fine, I'm sure. We'll figure something out. Let's not worry about that yet, shall we? One thing at a time."

Honeydew nodded. "Right, yeah. Good plan. So. Up again?"

"Yes, that worked so well last time."

"Well, I mean, we did find Israphel. Just sayin'."

Sighing, Xephos hoisted himself to his feet. Honeydew followed suit.

"Yes, well. This time we'll just have to be on the lookout for traps. Of any kind. I can't imagine there wouldn't be traps."

"Oy, wait a sec, I've got an idea," Honeydew said. "Why don't we just wait for him? No sense in climbin' all these stairs, and he's bound to come down lookin' for us. Why not set up a few traps of our own? He must know we're down here. He'll come get us eventually."

Xephos regarded him, folding his arms. "What've you got in mind?"

Honeydew grinned. "A fucking shitload of TNT."

"This was a bloody terrible idea."

"You thought of it!"

"Yeah, and now I'm thinkin' it was a bloody terrible idea. If we'd gone up to get him, at least it would've been over by now. No fuckin' waiting around."

"We also might be dead," Xephos pointed out. He shifted against the door, which was pressing into his back where he sat. At the very least, the creatures outside seemed to have gone away.

"Well at least we wouldn't've died of boredom, which is looking pretty fuckin' likely just now!"

Xephos snorted, and had just opened his mouth to say something when the door started vibrating.

"Do you feel that?" he asked.

The door exploded.

Xephos tumbled through the air until he slammed into a wall, and then dropped to the floor. His head was spinning, ears ringing, his whole body shivering with pain. To his right, Honeydew was lying on the stairs, groaning and shaking his head.

"Friend?" Xephos croaked. He couldn't seem to pull any air into his lungs.

"'M all right," Honeydew assured him, his voice the barest whisper.

"Ssso, thisss isss where you've been hiding."

Xephos looked up, his vision spinning. Israphel strode through the smoking remains of the door, a smile twisting the thin line of his mouth.

"Go fuck yourself," Xephos spat, pushing himself up onto his elbows—his legs were not yet ready to take his weight.

"Were you preparing a little sssurprissse for me?" he inquired, still advancing towards the stairs. "I hope I didn't ssspoil it."

"Just being polite," Honeydew said, crawling up the stairs to be near Xephos. "Didn't want to intrude."

"Ah, apologiesss," Israphel demurred. "What an abysssmal hossst I've been. Could I get you anything to drink?" His face went hard and vicious. "Molten gold, perhapsss?"

Xephos got his feet under him, but only managed to scramble back until he was pressed against the wall.

"Hey, Israphel," he said, his heart pounding. "Ever wonder where Rythian is?"

Israphel paused, his foot on the first step.

"I'll deal with him when I'm done with you," he decided, pushing forward. "Asss he dessservesss, thisss time. Ssslow. Agonizing. Earned."

His foot came down on the fourth step, and there was a hissing from underneath.

"Surprise," Honeydew remarked, and the entire staircase exploded.

Shrapnel peppered Xephos, and the world snapped into a ringing silence, and his heart stuttered and his lungs contracted and four of his ribs broke. Mortar tumbled down onto his head, and for a moment he thought he would never breathe again.

Honeydew prodded him in the shoulder, his mouth moving soundlessly. Xephos struggled to his feet, using the wall for support, his ribs twinging with every movement. He managed to sling his pack off and dig up one of the pink potions from its depths—as the fluid fizzed down his throat, sound returned to the world, and his ribs pressed out and clicked back into place.

"Need one?" Xephos asked.

"God, yes," Honeydew shouted, his words slurred. Xephos handed him a second potion, and Honeydew drank it without coming up for air. When he was done, he smacked his lips and sighed.

"Better?"

"Better. How long d'you figure we've got before tall, pale, and spooky is back on his feet?"

"Dunno. How many bits d'you figure he's in?"

There was a cascade of purple sparks, a vwip, and Israphel was standing at the base of the ruined stairs, melting the ground at his feet with the force of his rage.

"You think you're ssso clever," he snarled up at them. "You don't ssstand a chanccce againssst me."

vwip

"No?" Xephos inquired, and pointed. "What about him?"

Israphel whirled. Rythian grinned and waved.

"Hello!" he chimed.

"You!" Israphel roared, and went for him like a dog in a fight. Rythian dodged, drawing a pair of silver blossoms from the pouch at his hip.

"I'm going to need you to eat these," he stated. "Flux is bad for you, you know, no matter how long you've been bathing in it."

"Come on," Xephos muttered to Honeydew. "Let's figure out a way down from here so we can help."

Israphel had paused, standing with his back to the empty red-rock plain, littered only with arrows and smoldering rock. Far beyond, a white speck stood upon a high rise of stone, unmoving.

"Ssso," Israphel said, eyes narrowed like a cat's. "Jussst usss, then. The battle of the monssstersss."

Rythian laughed. "You hardly qualify as a monster. Just a child throwing a tantrum."

"You're a fine one to talk, Enderborn."

Rythian stiffened. "How do you—"

And suddenly Israphel was upon him, one hand around his wrist and the other bringing his sword up in a swift arc, and there was a horrible crunch and the hissing of steam and Rythian was on the ground, screaming and clutching the bloody stump of his right arm.

Israphel tossed the limb away, leaving both it and the silver flowers drooping amongst the wreckage of the stairs.

Xephos was cursing under his breath, scrambling down the smoking rubble as quickly as he could, while Honeydew muttered a foul litany and clung to the unsteady rock, shaking.

"No!" Rythian cried, writhing on the floor. "I—I changed my mind! I don't want to go! I don't want to go! Help—please—stop looking at me!"

Israphel stood on his throat and cut off his wild and desperate pleas.

"I know a great deal about you, Enderborn," he murmured.

"Ew," Xephos was grumbling, "ew, ew, ew, oh God, this is disgusting, I can't believe I'm doing this—"

Honeydew fell off the wall and landed with a heavy thump. Israphel's head whipped around, and Xephos launched himself at him, the blood-stained silver flowers clutched in his hand, screaming.

vwip

He fell through the shower of purple sparks where Israphel had been, landing half on top of Rythian, who started screaming again the moment he had breath.

"Stop—stop!" Xephos snarled, grappling onto him. Rythian shivered in his grasp and was gone, leaving Xephos with a handful of empty air.

Honeydew cried out, and Xephos's head snapped up just in time to see Israphel raising his sword to plunge it through the dwarf's chest. Xephos shouted and shot to his feet, far too late to do anything—

And an arrow thudded into Israphel's back, sinking in up to the fletchings. He stared down at the silvery tip poking out through his chest, blinking.

"Good man!" Xephos cried, and hurled himself at Israphel again. Honeydew caught him around the ankles, and so when Xephos cannoned into him, they both went toppling to the ground.

Unceremoniously, Xephos pried Israphel's jaws open and stuffed the flowers inside, though the other thrashed like a landed shark and champed at his fingers.

"Move!" Honeydew barked, and Xephos rolled off of Israphel just in time to dodge the whistling downswing of the dwarf's axe, which crunched into Israphel's sternum in a spatter of blood.

There was a concussion, and Xephos was thrown across the room. He heard the crunch of his ribs breaking again, and the shattering of glass from his pack—his last pink potion gone. Breathing was agony, and sparks swam before his eyes, but he saw Israphel rise, spitting silver petals onto the ground.

A change had come over him. Blood red eyes had turned an ocean blue, and the hissing sibilance of his voice had given way to something informal, something hauntingly familiar.

"It ends here," he growled, stalking towards Xephos. "No more. No more. I will unmake this world."

"You will die in hell," Xephos told him, though his voice was weak and shaking.

Israphel laughed. "Good. The cycle ends with you. It ends here. It ends now. No more. No more."

His sword speared down towards Xephos's head, and he knew he would not be able to dodge in time, too dizzy, too disoriented.

Another arrow sank into Israphel's neck, throwing him off-balance and skewing his strike to the left. The sword crashed against the wall by Xephos's ear, and he took the opportunity to kick Israphel's legs out from under him. He toppled, but then the sword was screeching along the wall towards Xephos's head again, and he only just managed to duck it, and then the hilt slammed into his nose and pain exploded across his face, blinding him.

There was a roar, and Israphel was snarling like a wild animal. Blurrily, Xephos saw Honeydew hoist the man into the air, saw the mighty heave that hurled the body out the door, sent it tumbling head over heels, skidding, sliding, and finally skipping over the edge of the red rock and down into the hungry lava below.

For a moment, there was silence.

Honeydew turned to him, bloodied, sweaty, breathless, his eyes glazed.

"All right?" he asked.

Blood was dribbling from Xephos's nose, over his lips and onto his tattered shirt.

"No," he managed. "Is it . . . over?"

Honeydew looked out at the lava. "I dunno."

They stared for a long moment, while the lava gurgled and another white monster screamed its way to death in the distance.

The lava burst like a bubble, and Israphel clawed out onto the rock, the flesh melting from his bones, steam and fire spitting from his insides. Honeydew screamed, and Israphel raised his head.

He spoke softly, the final murmur of his last breath, and all he said was, "Goodbye, friend."

And in that last moment before the world tore apart, Xephos understood.

Chapter Text

It began with a shockwave that knocked dust from the ceiling, and then a crescendo of tremors that rattled huge chunks of the battlements loose, a roaring wind whipping at his face and clothes and flinging ash into his eyes.

Honeydew grabbed his arm and hauled him to his feet. He was yelling, but Xephos could not hear him, not over the howl of the wind and the ringing in his ears. Honeydew pulled on him, dragging him through the exit, but Xephos could only stumble along numbly. The ground beneath his feet was shaking so violently that it was hurting his knees and hips and back, and he trailed behind Honeydew like a kite as they ran, he did not know how far.

Someone grabbed his shoulders and shook him, and he found himself looking into Lalna's eyes.

What's happening? he yelled, but Xephos could only read his lips, could not hear him in the least.

"He's me," Xephos mumbled. Lava was lapping at the edges of the foot path, spitting glowing globs up onto the rock. "He's me and I'm him. All along. All along."

Lalna yelled something at Honeydew, and the dwarf yanked Xephos down by his collar.

We're gonna die!

"Good," he said, his voice silent amidst the cacophony.

Honeydew slapped him.

There was an eruption of purple sparks and Rythian staggered into their midst, wild-eyed and jittering. His severed arm was back, bare up to the shoulder and showcasing a lightning network of pale scars. Xephos stared at him, agape.

Rythian said something, but it was impossible to hear, and he had no lips to read. Lalna grabbed his head and hauled his mouth next to his ear. When Rythian pulled away again, Lalna had gone white as a sheet.

You can't! he cried, holding the mage's shoulders.

Brilliant green light exploded over them, followed by another shockwave that knocked them off their feet. Where the castle had stood was now a swirling pillar of fluorescent vapor, streaming out from a huge pool beneath like a monstrous laser, boring into the rock above.

What the fuck is that? Honeydew demanded, clutching Xephos's shoulder.

Ryth, you can't! Lalna repeated, shaking him.

What's going on? Honeydew yelled, then grabbed Lalna's sleeve to get his attention and repeated the question.

Everything Israphel stole from the world! Lalna explained, pointing to the blinding pillar of green energy. Going back! It'll destroy everything!

"Good," Xephos murmured again. "Good, let it."

Rythian put his mouth to Lalna's ear and spoke again. Before he could reply, Rythian took his face in his hands and kissed him, then turned tail and sprinted for the light drilling its way to the surface.

Ryth! Lalna screamed. Honeydew had to catch him to keep him from running after him. Ryth, no! No!

We've got to get out of here! Honeydew insisted, hauling on both Xephos and Lalna. Xephos was still watching Rythian, his dark figure shrinkingly small against the massive pillar.

He watched as Rythian, without so much as pausing, swan-dived into the churning pool of green light.

Lalna screamed, and Honeydew threw himself upon the man to hold him down, taking blows to the face and body while he thrashed. Xephos sat, watching the lava slosh ever higher as the world trembled, watching the tunnel bore of light shred molten tatters from the rock above.

"Let it be over," he prayed, tears crawling down his cheeks.

And he saw a black speck, rising amidst the green light, saw the silhouette distort and tear and swell until it was monstrous, until it was maddening to behold.

The bore broke through, and the whole lake of green fire erupted to flood the breach, swamping, extinguishing the terrible black splotch at the center of the column.

A shockwave tore through the ground, ripping stone apart and flinging lava high into the air in red-hot sheets. It caught the three of them and threw them back, breaking bones and bursting organs and ripping skin from flesh. Roof and floor and walls blurred into one, and lava was rising all around them, dripping from the ceiling and bubbling from the cracked ground.

Honeydew touched his arm, and Xephos took his hand. He reached out to Lalna's motionless body and touched his fingertips to his shoulder.

The light grew brighter and brighter, and the lava rose, and the howl of wind became a scream.

"Let it be over," he murmured again, and closed his eyes.

There was darkness, and there was silence.

Slowly, Xephos opened his eyes. There was a starry sky above him, and cool grass under his back. He sat up, and saw Honeydew lying on the ground beside him. Tears sprang to his eyes, and he reached out to touch him, but hesitated at the last minute.

As though his bones were made of glass, he got to his feet.

Tall grasses waved on rolling hills all around him, and the night was filled with the gentle sound of insects. The moon was a bright crescent, hanging high in the clear, dark sky. There was the smell of fresh earth, of lilac, of distant snow on the breeze.

He looked down at Honeydew again, goosebumps rising on his arms and neck. The dwarf's chest rose and fell in a slow and steady rhythm, overscored by a soft snoring.

Xephos wrapped his arms around himself and turned away.

"Sorry, friend," he murmured, and walked into the night.

Two days of aimless travel found him starving, freezing, and exhausted. He huddled under an outcrop of granite to shelter from the snow, his face and fingers gone numb with the cold, his shivering long since abandoned. His breath clouded the air before him, and his eyes were blurry.

The cry, when it came, was distant, only an echo on the breeze, but his heart leapt nonetheless when he heard it, dodging through the hiss of falling snow and the murmuring of wind.

"Xeph!"

"I'm here!" he called, though his voice was weak and faltering. "I'm here! Honeydew!"

The snow swallowed his voice and returned only whispers. He strained his ears for more than five long minutes, his own breathing too loud by far.

"Please," he murmured through numb lips. "Please, help."

The wind gusted, spraying him with snow. He huddled into himself and let his eyes fall closed.

"Xeph!"

He could not raise his head. It was only the wind calling his name, only his failing mind begging him to breathe again, only the desperate palpitations of a heart that did not want to die. The cold was ebbing, finally, and he was so tired, so very tired. . . .

Strong arms, burning hot, wrapped around him and clutched him to a barrel chest.

"Steady on, friend," Honeydew told him, gathering as much of Xephos to himself as he could. "Ain't no point to it, you'll only come back somewhere else, I'll only have to hunt you down again."

Xephos shook his head. He could not find the words he wanted, could not find the strength to part his lips.

"You're gonna be all right now, friend. I've got you. I've got you."

And he found himself, for reasons beyond his failing thoughts, burying his face in Honeydew's chest and crying.

"You've figured it out too, haven't you."

Xephos nodded and spooned some more mushroom stew into his mouth. There was a roaring fire, and he was swaddled in blankets and furs. Honeydew was sitting next to him, leaning against his shoulder.

"What're we gonna do?" Honeydew asked.

Xephos stared into the fire, silent. His hands were shaking.

"Oy, eat your stew."

Dutifully, he swallowed down another spoonful.

"Look, it'll be all right. We'll find Rythian and Lalna and Daisy—"

"They're dead."

Honeydew nudged him. "You don't know that."

"They're dead," Xephos repeated.

"Okay, I'll admit, things didn't look great, but—"

"Everyone's dead. Everyone but you and me."

"All right, now that's just bollocks. Sure, we haven't seen anyone since we woke up here, but it don't mean everyone's dead. Just means nobody's here. We'll be all right."

Xephos put down the bowl of mushroom stew, for fear his shaking hands would slosh it all over him. He wrapped his arms around his knees and drew into himself, staring through the fire.

Honeydew put a hand on his shoulder. "Look. That thing—whatever it was—was supposed to destroy the world. Right? And it didn't. So there's something, anyway! A non-destroyed world, right?"

"Everyone's dead," Xephos said.

"Look, would you quit it? You ain't helping anybody with that shit."

There was a long space of quiet, filled with the crackling of the fire and the hissing of the snow.

"We've got to go back to the treasure," Xephos said at last.

"Yeah, see, there's the spirit—"

"And destroy it."

Honeydew glared at him. "That's a stupid idea if ever I heard one."

"I don't want to live alone forever." He snorted. "Who knows, maybe that's what made me Israphel in the first place."

"Oy, quit. That wasn't you."

"Yes it was."

"No, it was some . . . fucked-up clone of you. You saw the recording. You're from before everything went to shit."

"If you can trust the recording."

"C'mon, you don't trust yourself?"

"No."

Honeydew sighed. "Look, Xeph. I get it, this is tough, but—"

"I can't live with this."

Another quiet, deeper this time.

"Well, you—you've got to. You've got to find a way."

"No I haven't."

"Yes you bloody well have, because you're not dyin' on my watch!"

"Then stop looking."

Honeydew took his face in his hands and forced him to look at him. "No," he said. "No, I will not. I'm going to look after you whether you like it or not. We're going to figure this out."

"There's nothing to figure out," Xephos croaked. Looking at Honeydew was making him tear up.

"Yeah, there bloody well is. For a start, we can find a way to prove you're not Israphel—never were, never will be. He's dead, Xeph. He ain't comin' back."

"But—"

"But nothin'. We're the legendary heroes, friend. We saved the goddamn world. Now we're gonna save you."

Tears crawled down Xephos's cheeks, and weakly, he nodded.

"We're . . . going to need a facility."

"Yeah, all right, for like, experiments and shit?"

"Yeah. Like a—like a lab, or something."

"All right. Let's build us a lab."

There was a third silence, insulated from the fire and the snow, that contained only Honeydew and Xephos and everything that hung between them.

Honeydew gathered Xephos into his arms, and Xephos buried his face in his shoulder, and there they remained, two lone sparks of life in the darkness of the dead land.

THE END

The story will continue in The Rise and Fall

Coming Soon