Panstrom Swiftra smelled the

cloud matter around the airship,

breathing in a lung full of air through
the beaked mask that covered his
mouth and nose. There'd be no
seeing the city itself beneath this
storm before they descended. No
matter. matter. Between his mask and his
arcane knowledge he smelled that
they were in place. Lightning flashed
around them, but the airship's de-
fenses repelled it.
"Here," he called to the pilot. "This
is the place. Keep circling while we
descend."
The team already waited in the
smaller ship they would take down.
Panstrom climbed into the open-
walled craft. Those already inside
pulled back from him. No matter how
long they'd worked together, they
still reacted in fear.
Panstrom stayed on his feet, hold-
ing a strap in the ceiling. The steam
engine hissed, and with a blast of
arcane wind, the landing craft
dropped down toward the ground.
Panstrom's mastery kept the clouds
and drops of rain from entering the
ship. ship.
Josu, one of the warriors on the
team, leaned over his crossed
blades and, his voice full of false
worry, whispered, "You don't think
Panstrom forgot to wind the engines
this time, do you?"
Mieshe, sitting beside him,
groaned. t was a joke Josu attempt-
ed every time, usually to the least
experienced in the group. Rarely did
anyone fall for it. This time the target
of his whisper was Alshan. With her
odd Toran clothing and young-
looking face, it wasn't a surprise that
he would think her inexperienced. t
was an impression she cultivated.
He'd be jealous if Panstrom told
him how many jobs the Magister
Praeta had sent her on. Her energy
blade and sawed-off shotgun were
assassin's tools, and well bloodied.
Unlike Josu's bright red armor,
which had yet to receive its first
dent.
Alshan shook her head and gave
him a dismissive half-grin. No jibes
would distract her from their job, or
any job.
The engines whirred as the little
ship dropped through the clouds.
Josu opened his mouth for another
quip, but stopped when they broke
through beneath the storm. Ormel,
one of the two acolytes, gasped.
The plain around the small city of
Sholar was crawling with an army. Sholar was crawling with an army.
"Sir?" Ormel asked. He was in
charge of what little piloting the ship
required.
"Go lower. want to see what's
happening."
Josu was the first to identify the
forces below. "Orcs, sir. see their
bright skin."
Now he said it, Panstrom made
out the primitive banners of the
northern orcs. Their skin glistened
red in the driving rain.
Rain lashed the little craft.
Panstrom double-checked the
magic shell that kept them dry and
added stronger protection from the
arrows and slings of the orcs. Mind-
less things. No need for other pro-
tection.
"No change in plans. We drop into
the city, find the girl, and get out of
here." Even a city this size could
easily handle an attack by orcs. Hold
out for a few days, safe from their
simple weapons, and the creatures
would slink away in defeat.
The ship dropped more quickly,
straight for the temple of the All-
Mother. Like the city, it was a rather
rustic temple. Even so, it occupied a
central place in the city, for the Holy
Plains of Khar honored the All-Moth-
er above any other god. Panstrom
approved. He watched the temple
grow in view and wished for the All-
Mother's blessing on their venture.
IANSTROM SWIFTRA
IRAETAN IIGH CVERSEER
WRITTEN bY: IANIEL AUSEMA
The father pushed his girl away so
he could look into her face. "'ve told
you--"
"Never mind," Panstrom said. t
was clearly an argument they had
gone through before. And just as
clearly, an innocent act on the girl's
part, whether the father saw that or
not. "She was doing the All-Mother's
work, 'm sure. So that we would find
him here." him here."
Panstrom took a closer look at the
boy, crossing to the foot of the
ladder. Sickly--he'd probably been
starving before the girl chose to help
him. His brown eyes were sharp and
deep. His nose had a distinct bend
from an old break. A fighter then?
No, Panstrom dismissed the
thought immediately. t was the
mark of a bullied child. That past
could prove problematic as he
learned power. Or it might give him
strength. No way to be certain yet.
He was older than Panstrom
would have preferred, probably ten
or twelve, but no help for that.
"Come down. can teach you to
use your mind for greater things
than this. Would you learn?"
The boy nodded.
"Then come."
The boy said a quick thanks to the
girl. As they were leaving, the father
called out, "But what about my
door?"
"t still locks just fine. never
harmed it," Panstrom called back.
"You may want a stronger barricade
to keep the orcs out, though."
A short way down the street, they
found the orcs had already
breached the wall. Only a few of
them for the moment. A few locals
fought them, but not enough. The
alarm was slow to bring help.
"Finally," Josu said, preparing his
two black blades for a charge.
"Hold, Josu. Not your time yet."
Panstrom gestured to Alshan.
She took a step toward the orcs and
rested the sawed-off tip of her gun
on her energy blade. The retort
echoed off the wall in front of them,
and the shot crackled with energy as
it spread out. The orcs that didn't fall
stumbled backward to the wall.
wen followed up immediately with
a brute force spell that knocked the
orcs back over the break in the wall
and threw the broken stone into the
gap. Powerful, if inelegant. He'd be
worthless for a day or two after that,
but it did what they needed.
"Well done. Help wen while we
walk."
Josu and Alshan supported him,
and the boy tagged along behind,
his eyes wide and mouth open.
"What's your name, boy?"
"Scrilt, sir. Ailser Scrilt." The boy
quick stepped to catch up with
Panstrom. "Will really learn to do
that?"
"And much more, boy. f you
prove competent."
At the temple, Ormel met them
with a long face. "Mieshe died just
now."
Panstrom lowered his head.
Mieshe had been with the Magister
Praeta for many years and was a
good fighter. Panstrom never felt
close to anyone anymore, but his
loss was a sad one for the organiza-
tion. Many times Mieshe had been
assigned to a team led by Panstrom. assigned to a team led by Panstrom.
"We will miss him," Panstrom
said, because he knew the team
would want to hear those words.
"We will carry his body back to the
Exalted Nations to be burned with
full honors. May his spirit be em-
braced by the All-Mother."
At the ship, once they had
Mieshe's body respectfully in place,
Josu stepped away from the shop
and drew his swords. " will stay
behind and kill some orcs to avenge
him. Maybe even save the city."
"No, Josu, you won't. Get in the
ship."
He looked like he might actually
defy Panstrom, and maybe he be-
lieved it himself, but Panstrom knew
he wouldn't, so he kept his voice
calm as he continued. "You will not
throw away your life here for noth-
ing. The All-Mother has other plans
for you, yet. All you would do here is
kill a few mindless creatures and die
without affecting the battle at all.
Come."
Josu wavered. He leaned toward
the wall, pointed that way with his
swords, but after a moment he did
as Panstrom had known he would
and climbed aboard.
Ailser stood apart from the ship,
though, a worried look on his face.
"You mean the city is lost? There's
nothing you can do?"
Panstrom shrugged. " don't know
the future. know one pair of swords
won't change the outcome this time.
Does the city have the soldiers it
needs?"
"We can't just leave it, though. Not
like that." The boy held his hands
out in front of him and studied his fin-
gers. "Maybe should stay. mean,
know 'm not trained yet, and can't
do what you could. But maybe
could do something. must have
some some power, for you to sense me
like that."
No, they couldn't leave the child
behind. A waste of their time, a
waste of Mieshe's life. Panstrom re-
sisted the temptation to sling the boy
over his shoulder and force him into
the ship. He'd most likely forget
soon enough, as he entered the
mysteries mysteries of the Netherstorm. But
not necessarily, and the lingering
memory might well block his powers
or turn them against the Magister
Praeta.
He made his voice as soothing as
it ever was. "You don't understand
the least of what you might someday
do. But suppose there's something
could do." To the temple's cleric he
said, " need to climb to your bell
tower. Send for whoever leads your
city's guard. And now." The cleric
was as fast as Panstrom could have
hoped. Soon he stood high in the
bell tower with several officials
behind him. Josu stood at his side to
help help him back down once the spell
was complete.
"When am done," he told those
assembled, "toll the bell. mmedi-
ately, and then every hour, day and
night. Until it has no more effect."
He reached across empty space
to touch the bell. The drop meant
nothing to him, though he noted how
the others stayed well back from the
edge. Beneath his fingers, the par-
ticles of the metal rearranged them-
selves to resonate with his magic.
"You will feel the same fear that
they do. Your houses will provide
some sanity, and can shield this
temple. But be prepared for your
people to try to flee in terror or hide
deep within their homes. The orcs
should run far, even after the first
tolling. tolling. f you're lucky, they may
throw down their pistols as they go."
"How long?" one of them asked.
"How much time does this give us?"
Panstrom shook his masked head.
" can't say. Maybe a day, maybe a
dozen days. Maybe they'll never
come back together as a single
army, and you'll only have to worry
about little bands of them. But 'd be
ready for them to attack again soon.
So So once they flee and you can
gather enough people who aren't
cowered in fright, send some to the
other cities on the plain for help. And
gather up the guns you find outside."
No more questions, so Panstrom
set himself to the spell. He leaned
over the drop, wrapping his arms
around the cold metal of the bell.
Then he drew on the powers of
the Netherstorm and his own aura of
magical dread to coat the bell in
strange and uncanny powers. strange and uncanny powers.
Josu caught him as the spell
ended. t would be days before he
had the energy for even the simplest
spell. Panstrom blacked out on the
way down to the ship.
They rose into the air, with the
body of Mieshe in the craft's hold
and the boy Ailser clinging to a rope
and watching the city fall away. The
bell rang out, and everyone but
Panstrom gasped.
Alshan dropped to her knees, and
Josu drew his swords.
No, not everyone. Through his fa-
tigue Panstom realized that the boy
Ailser was still in the same place
he'd been.
Unaffected or strong enough to
withstand it. The Magister Praeta
would welcome such a child to its
ranks.