Cordoba Chronicles I: Book 1 on Wordpress

I'll be posting my comic Cordoba Chronicles I on my Wordpress account:
http://sgwatson.wordpress.com/

The first book is up.  A direct link to each page in Book 1:
http://sgwatson.wordpress.com/2012/08/31/cordoba-chronicles-i-cover/
http://sgwatson.wordpress.com/2012/08/31/cordoba-chronicles-i-book-1-page-1/
http://sgwatson.wordpress.com/2012/08/31/cordoba-chronicles-i-book-1-page-2/
http://sgwatson.wordpress.com/2012/08/31/cordoba-chronicles-i-book-1-page-3/
http://sgwatson.wordpress.com/2012/08/31/cordoba-chronicles-i-book-1-page-4/
http://sgwatson.wordpress.com/2012/08/31/cordoba-chronicles-i-book-1-page-5/
http://sgwatson.wordpress.com/2012/08/31/cordoba-chronicles-i-book-1-page-6/
http://sgwatson.wordpress.com/2012/08/31/cordoba-chronicles-i-book-1-page-7/
http://sgwatson.wordpress.com/2012/08/31/cordoba-chronicles-i-book-1-page-8/

Hope you like the story,
-swatson

Cordoba Chronicles I: A Forward

This bit is to let you all know that the novella "Cordoba Chronicles IV: the Necromancer's Fury" was not written in a vacuum, and not without prior setup.

I created the fantasy world of Cordoba from 1994 to 1997 while attending high school at Design and Architecture Senior High, a magnet art school in Miami, FL.  It was in response to a lack of cool fantasy stories accessible to the mainstream audience.  I made a point to make something I wanted to see, and I figured that the big thing missing from the stories I liked and knew were the fact that there were no popular leading Black or dark-skinned characters.  They had popular Black supporting characters (sidekicks, rivals, mentors, love interests, etc.) but none that the average viewer would want to emulate, due to the lack of a leading role. These Black characters are not the center of a universe, and no story is told or experienced through their eyes. I decided to change that.

The story has a great number of influences. Cartoons, comics, science fiction, video games and action films were a big portion of my life prior to writing the Cordoba Chronicles, so a great deal of influence comes from them.

The short list reads like this:

• The graphic novels TITANS: Scissors, Paper, Stone, Ninja High School and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - Book II
• the DC comic book Legionnaires (formerly Legion of Superheroes, rebooted after Zero Hour in 1994)
• CAPCOM's "Mega Man 2" and "Street Fighter 2010: the Final Fight"
• "Black Magic: M-66", "Bubblegum Crisis", "Appleseed", "AKIRA", and other Japanese animation films
• the American cartoons "Galaxy High School", "Beverly Hills Teens", "Jem", "Centurions: Power X-Treme", "Thundercats", Silverhawks", "Tigersharks", "He-Man and the Masters of the Universe", "Bravestarr", "Bionic Six", "Shirt Tales", "Dinosaucers", "The Adventures of the Galaxy Rangers",
• the British cartoon "DangerMouse",
• the French cartoons "Spartakus and the Sun Beneath the Sea" (AKA "Les Mondes Engloutis") and "Ulysses 31"
• Live action shows like "Ultraman", "Captain Power and the Soldiers of the Future", and of course "Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers"
• the Universal Pictures' "Action Pack" movie "Hercules and the Circle of Fire" starring Kevin Sorbo and the follow-up TV series "Hercules: the Legendary Journeys"
• the "Star Trek" TV series (TOS, TNG, DS9 and Voyager) and the original "Star Wars" trilogy (A New Hope, The Empire Strikes Back, Return of the Jedi)
• the movie "Conan the Destroyer"
• the 1980 movie "Flash Gordon"
• the movie "Passenger 57"
• the Japanese animation imports "Voltron: Defender of the Universe", "Transformers", "Robotech", "Saber Rider and the Star Sheriffs", and "Mysterious Cities of Gold"

It goes without saying that I have a long-standing flirtation with Dungeons & Dragons (both the game and the cartoon), regardless of what people say.  I think I've said enough; I hope you enjoy Cordoba Chronicles I. Enjoy!

-swatson

Cordoba Chronicles IV: Chapter 11

The arcane language spilled from Blackheart's mouth as she spoke the uncanny phrases in a guttural tongue to start the summoning spell. The words of magic completed a spell that forced the drained blood of the corpses in the next room to pool in a reservoir below the altar and rise into the piping that ended in the basin hollowed out in the top of the altar. The crimson claret coalesced in the stone sink, and the necromancer smiled. She craned her head back and looked into the moonlight of Rzandol, shining into her black eyes and the blood-filled basin from the faux well overhead to hear the sounds of her reckoning coming to bear.

She has done exactly as her master had commanded: sacrificed a great many on the eve of the rise of Rzandol and dedicate all their blood to her master, for it was trapped. Stuck in an ethereal prison and only able to act through associates like herself, Blackheart met her master when she was at her worst. Now, she felt it necessary to repay the gift given to her by a powerful creature from beyond that saw fit to save her life, by any means possible. The idea of such an act of justice as an appetizer to an even greater justice that would soon come, levied against the mortal world of Cordoba, made the necromancer feel as if she was in tune with the very earth itself.

The dark mage reveled in the sounds of the earth around her head as she heard the worms burrow and the roots of trees spread themselves through the ground. She could hear the dead stirring in their graves, scratching and pounding against coffins in a rhythm Blackheart found musical. The thought of even more of the walking dead at her disposal, in addition to the several ghouls that sat before her in the temple pews, was enough to make the dark necromancer's smile stretch from ear to ear as she continued to chant.

Suddenly, a shout from the upper levels of the basement broke her concentration, disturbing the chant that would deliver her master from his prison to this world. Blackheart cursed her intruders for their poor timing and stepped away from the altar. She almost tripped over the prone Inia? body as she walked out into the central aisle of the temple and stared at the front doors to the next room, where the bodies hung and bled. She looked to a couple of ghouls and said, "We have a visitor."

The necromancer didn't bother to guess who her intruder was as she looked back at the unconscious form of her niece.

Rashad. That damned male has come back to soil my home a third time, the necromancer thought. He's escaped that incompetent Doyle and now he thinks he?l defeat me. The little black bastard thinks he can just walk in here, do what he wants and take my niece away to be some breeder? Aside from the truth, she said to herself, that male will be in for one hell of a surprise.

Turning away from the door, Blackheart felt her old Adventurer's Guild medallion shift in her bosom. Touching it through her clothes, she continued her stride to the altar and took her place at the altar and continued to chant. As she chanted, voices could be heard floating in from the useless windows to the abattoir. It seems that the little male has brought friends, the necromancer mused. Her black eyes glinted with amusement as she chanted, making sure to position herself under the moonlight as she did before. As she expected, the group of intruders made their grand entrance into the temple. Blackheart had not seen many of these people before, but some she knew and one of them she knew very well.

The first of the intruders came dressed in blue armor; she could tell that from the reflections of the moon's light bouncing from the floorboards. The necromancer had not met him, but she did know his symbol: the brotherhood of Brash. Blackheart had tangled with only one Brash acolyte prior, and she wasn't satisfied. Two Enigmen--a female cat and a giant crab of some sort--stood with the armored warrior. Four humans walked through the doors. Two were dark-skinned and males, like the fool Rashad who walked with them, but of the two only one was a mage. By the look of his aura she could tell he was an ice-mage of some power, but not enough to sway her will or her master's will.

The last human was a slim woman with long black hair, carrying a satchel. A quick glance showed that the girl had no real skills to speak of, and would be no threat. Her eyes scanned over the last member of the crew--an elf, she could see by the ears--bore a strange resemblance…

Moira, the seamstress, had come to reclaim what was once hers. But from the elf's excessive cowering, it looked like the spell she put on her was still in place. The elf had cost her so much in the past, nothing would be able to negate the spell. So why was Moira here? Blackheart pushed the question out of her head and decided that the elven seamstress would die first, but changed her decision when the blue-armored warrior sealed his fate as the first to fall: he opened his mouth and spoke.

"In the name of Brash, I am sworn to strike down evil wherever it may lay! Beware, Blackheart the necromancer, for you now face Cyan--warrior of the Brotherhood!"

Only slightly aware of what he would face on the inside of the temple walls, the halfling went full tilt into his lines, remembering the honor of the Brotherhood and forgetting the full situation. While sent here on his own to deal with a claim of ghouls in the town of Karmor's Bend, many friends have joined him in his mission. No one in their party, not even the ice mage, was prepared for the scene set before them.

The temple, cold and lit only by the moonlight falling from the well above the necromancer's head, was a mockery of the temples built to Toren the Assistant and his Master Hamar. Instead of the Tetra-Sphere that would adorn the walls, that same diagram of the eye reaching skyward with tentacles took its place. The walls, adorned with tapestries bearing the tentacled eye, were carved from the surrounding stone and supported by smoothed columns. The ceiling of the temple stretched over their heads and curved upwards into the base of the fake well. Past that, a smooth wall with an arcane diagram in the shape of a circle stood out in relief with the moonlit form of Blackheart the Benefactor juxtaposed in the foreground.

The necromancer's eyes flashed in the moonlight as she looked down on the ghouls in the pews. The stinking corpses moved in response to her gaze and rose from their seats to attack the group of intruders. Charging into the pew, the first ghoul met his second death at the end of the Rock Sword. More ghouls came onward, and they were dispatched by Cyan's dancing sword. Kitty and Barcrab joined in the fray, actively going after ghouls and fighting them claw, tooth and nail. The two Enigmen barreled through the rotting wooden pews, taking whatever pieces of broken wood they could and using them for weapons. Shuya, Wyle, Donovan and Moira stayed by the door and fought off any ghouls they could, using the fire poker, Donovan's ice axe and Shuya's potions. As Shuya's potions lit up the floor around them and cast a bright blue light in the temple, Donovan's eye caught a glimpse of the circle behind the chanting Blackheart.

He had seen that circle somewhere before in a manual at the Academy, in a book on summoning, but what would a necromancer want to summon? Regardless of what the dark mage wanted to summon, he would have to stop her. "Cyan! Rashad! She's trying to summon something! See if you can stop her!"

The two nodded and cut a swath to the altar. After wading through the ichor and rotting body parts, the Halfling and human raised their weapons to strike Blackheart down. Their blades struck her arms, but were deflected by some sort of magic. Using the advantage, Blackheart thrust her arms out and the two men went flying to the floor. As they picked them selves up, Rashad noticed a curly mop of hair sticking out from behind the altar. He looked up at the necromancer with a grimace of anger and shouted to Donovan, "Inia's here! You have to stop her!"

In response, Donovan pulled a potion from Shuya's satchel and encased it in ice. He launched it at the chanting woman, hoping she would not be able to stop the projectile. Blackheart was involved with the chant, and she was struck full in the face and staggered back as the ice shattered across her nose. The necromancer rose, her face covered in the brown liquid of the potion hidden in the ice ball. She wiped her face off and looked at her hands as they burned a light blue flame from her fingertips and palms. The dark mage looked at the intruders with her black, almond-shaped eyes and continued chanting to release the ethereal bonds of her master.

She was not able to complete her chant, for a significantly large piece of broken pew came flying at her, forcing her to hurl herself away from the altar and Inia. Blackheart landed hard against the stone floor, shielding herself from the shower of wood splinters. As the necromancer began to right herself, Barcrab shouted, "RASHAD! GET INIA!!"

Snapping up and rushing to the altar, Rashad knelt by the unconscious Inia and grabbed her by the arm. He dragged her to safety, just as Blackheart lunged at the two with her silver dagger. The blade missed them both by inches, and the dark mage screamed her rage. She prepared to cast a spell, but Cyan charged and slammed into her back. As she landed on the ground, she spun and blasted the Halfling with a burst of green energy, sending him flying towards Kitty. The Enigman cat-woman was ready and caught the armored Cyan before he hit the ground completely. "No worries; I've got you," she said.

"Thanks, Kitty," Cyan said. "Are you all right?"

"Yes; more importantly, are you alright?"

"Whatever that monster's hit me with, it's made me tired." Turning to the others, he said, "We gotta stop her…no matter what."

Blackheart heard that and started to chant again. Donovan heard her chant and cast a spell that froze the pipes of the sink inside the altar. The pipes burst, cracking through the stone and toppling the altar over. The necromancer could only look on in annoyance as the intruders congratulated themselves.

Suddenly, the sound of a clearing throat echoed through the temple. "You peons have come this far to have an audience with me," the emotionally charged Blackheart spoke. "You've fought my undead minions and interfered in my current plans."

She stared at the slowly waking Inia as she continued, "You've tampered with my life's work, and there's no shortage of pain I could inflict on you all for such transgressions. Yet I believe that you all would not have done these things if there were not a reason…even in your limited scope of 'reason'."

"I want revenge!" Shuya shouted across the temple. "You killed my father, mother and brother! Your hands are stained with their blood."

"I'm sworn to staunch the flow of evil in these lands, and your time is over, Madam Blackheart!" Cyan brought his sword to bear and said, "By the will of Brash!"

"You've cost me my job," Rashad said as he held Inia, "and the lives of others have been changed or ended because of your actions! I've dealt with your kind before: mages and the powerful that thought they were beyond the reach of Good. You think you're all that matters, that everyone should follow your path or die. I am here to tell you you're wrong--dead wrong--and you will pay for your crimes against the world."

The necromancer looked over the battle-ready group, as they breathed heavily from the evening's fight. Covered in the blood of the fallen ghouls, they all meant business and brought their weapons up. Blackheart looked at the poor fools…and began to laugh. The anger that washed over her from the aspiring heroes made Blackheart smile from ear to ear. The necromancer said as she clapped her hands, "Oh, such rousing speeches, all of you. I'd spare you all for such performances, if mercy was in my nature. You must excuse my amusement; I've heard those words far too many times."

The necromancer continued with a sly grin, "Your family meant nothing to me. They were merely a sacrifice to my master. All of Sumptor, and I gave it to my Benefactor.

"As for your 'sworn quest' against evil, you backwater hirsute," the necromancer leveled at Cyan, "you need look no further. I doubt you'll be able to defeat me, because I eat misguided male "heroes" like you for lunch." Her eyes narrowed to slits as she said, "You will fail."

Turning to Rashad, Blackheart said, "And as for you, you wanna-be adventurer, you dare walk into the mouth of danger a third time? For the hand of my niece, you certainly went the distance. It was all for nothing, for you would fail, just like your hairball friend here."

"Hey I resent that!" Kitty piped up.

"Not you," Rashad spoke through gritted teeth.

"Oh."

"I don't like you. You've lied to my niece Inia and to my face! I'll not stand by as my niece becomes a breeder for some male who lies about his achievements. Adventurer's Guild, indeed; your medallion isn't real!" The Benefactor continued, "You're nothing but a one-shoe hustler!"

"By Toren, I am an Adventurer!"Rashad shouted. "The Guild has changed! I was there myself when it changed recently. Why don't you believe me? Is it because you hate me for being with Inia?"

"YOU ARE A MALE! ALL MALES LIE AND I HATE ALL OF YOU FOR THAT!" Blackheart's shout echoed on the walls. "YOU WILL NOT TAKE MY LIFE'S WORK FROM ME TO SOW YOUR FOUL SEED, FOR I AM THE DESTROYER OF ALL MEN! I WILL--"

"Auntie!"

Blackheart stopped her rant and looked down on the face of her niece. The tanned teenager's skin shone in the moonlight, her cheeks streaming with tears. "Is this how you truly are? Why?"

"It's lying males like this dark-skinned dunderhead that hurt me in my younger days."

Inia returned, "But you don't have to do this because some guy broke your heart--"

"BROKE MY HEART?!?!" The necromancer's face flushed and turned a bright purple in the moonlight as she said through gritted teeth, "Is that what they're calling it now? Is that what you've learned from the world of males? That rape--my rape--was nothing more than a matter of the heart?!

"You foolish little twit! After all the time I spent on you," Blackheart said with a cracking voice, "you turn into a blithering trollop who can't tell when a male wants you. You don't need that male."

"Auntie," Inia said, "I know. I want Rashad. It's you I don't need."

What, Blackheart heard echo through her head.

Inia continued, saying, "I'm a big girl now, Auntie. I have to go and do what I can to make it in the world. I'm a grown woman. I can't live under your wing forever; I want to see the world and its entire people--all of the MEN and WOMEN and the world they live in. The world I was meant to live in."

The rage on Blackheart's face was barely hidden. She dipped her head and closed her eyes. Bringing her face back to see her intruders, it was completely clear of all anger as she sucked in a cool breath and said, "I can see that trying to coax you from the side of your male is quite difficult, and will take more time than I am willing to invest. It's time I owned up to the fact that my experiment was a failure."

"E-experiment?" Inia stuttered. "W-what do you mean?"

Rashad took the young woman's hand and said, "C'mon, you don't need to listen to this madwoman rant any longer. You're with me now."

Rashad took her to Shuya and the others and said, "Watch out for her, this'll be a nasty fight."

As Shuya nodded, Blackheart looked at Donovan and said, "It's only natural I terminate my unsuccessful experiments. You understand, don't you?"

A bolt of black lightning shot from her hand and flew towards Inia as she stood in shock. Rashad threw himself in front of the blast, taking it full in the chest. He flopped to the ground and lay still. Inia leapt on top of him, shaking him and screaming, "NO!!!"

"HA! RIGHT ON CUE!" Blackheart laughed a maniacal laugh and said, "EVERY HERO IS THE SAME! YOU ALL GIVE YOUR LIVES FOR NOTHING! I'VE TAKEN THE LIVES OF MANY HEROES OVER THE YEARS…AND NOW YOU ALL SHALL SHARE THE SAME FATE!"

Cordoba Chronicles IV: Chapter 10

The boots felt a bit tighter than usual this time around as Cyan pulled them on. He felt a strong sense of determination and conviction as he slapped the steel greaves over his boots, tightening the bands to hold them in place. With his gauntlets in place over the sleeves of his hooded hauberk, the Halfling called out to the main room in Shuya’s house, “Can I get some help in here?”

Beyond the door of Shuya’s bedroom, Donovan, Wyle and Shuya stood in the kitchen making potions to combat the undead. Kitty, Rashad and Barcrab were watching the windows, waiting for some kind of response from the ghouls who had surrounded the house at sunset and now marched around an ice crystal barrier. Moira was slumped in the chair closest to the fireplace, holding her knees against her chest and rocking back and forth. Her whimpering seemed to keep pace with the tempo of her movement, making the rocking movements that more unnerving.

“Might I get some help please?” Cyan yelled again. “I can’t get this damned breastplate on by myself!”

Kitty looked up from her position and yelled, “Coming!” The Enigman cat-woman plucked herself from the floor and peeked over the doorjamb. “What’s up? 

“Please, help me get my breastplate on.” Cyan motioned to the hunk of metal sitting off to the side of Shuya’s bed. She picked up the plate by the armpits and carried it to Cyan, who sat down on the edge of the bed. He looked up at her and said, “I mean, I need someone to put it on for me. Do you mind?”

“No, I don’t.” Kitty climbed onto the bed and hobbled over to Cyan’s back on her knees. She lifted the breastplate over the Halfling’s head and fitted it to his body. Tying the straps wasn’t a problem, so she did that too. The flirty feline reached under the gorget and stroked Cyan’s neck saying, “All set.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Cyan said as he felt the soft fur against his stubbly neck. “You know, you tied my armor as if you knew what you were doing. Where’d you learn to suit armor like that?”

“I know a lot of things,” Kitty purred. “I had a life before dancing at the Egress Bar.”

Cyan nodded and said, “Pass the shoulder pads.” The cat-woman leaned over to where the shoulder pads lay and pulled them to her. She put them to Cyan’s shoulders and anchored them to the breastplate. Satisfied with her work, Cyan stood up.

The halfling Cyan practiced his balance in the standard issue armor for a warrior of the Brotherhood of Brash. The breastplate armor bore an embossed symbol of Brash, a trio of down-pointing swords crossing before a bright sun. The thigh armor attached to Cyan’s equipment belt made for a natural weight against his body. He knelt at the bottom of the bed and reached underneath it, pulling out his sword and his helmet. The sword, a sharpened and stained affair at its blade, shone in the candlelight of the next room as the Halfling drew it from his scabbard and replaced it. The helmet was curved and plated, sweeping upward into a metal frill from its forehead and trailing off into a tail at the nape. Both items bore the symbol of Brash as well.

Cyan turned to Kitty and said, “Listen. If the plan doesn’t go as well as it should, I want you to have this.” He reached down into his hauberk and pulled out a slim necklace. It was a small ivory stone on a silver length of chain. He handed it to the Enigman cat-woman and said, “If I fall, bring this to the headquarters of the Brash Brotherhood in Fort Swordhome, in the west.” The Halfling could see the fear in Kitty’s yellow eyes and comforted her with, “I admire a woman with skill such as yours. When this ends, I think we need to discuss our future together.”

“No need to wait on that, Cyan. We can discuss our future relationship…” Kitty said as she held his hand with padded hands and a serious look in her eye, “…right now.”

Just as they gazed into each other’s eyes for a moment, the mood was broken by Wyle’s intrusion. “Hey, we’re almost done with the––“

Both Cyan and Kitty turned to the carpenter. Annoyed, Cyan said, “Go on…”

Blushing a bit, Wyle continued, “We’re almost done with the potions. Are you ready?”

Before the Halfling could answer, Kitty leaned into him and playfully said, “Seems ready to me…”

“Stop that.” Cyan ripped himself away from the furry arms of the Enigman dancer and strode out to the main room of Shuya’s home. He looked around at the state of his allies and friends. Most of them had no weapons, armor or combat training. They looked worn out from the day’s events. It’s not every day that the undead march on your town, but these people have acted admirably under stress and the threat of a living death. The bravery of all these people, especially Shuya, would be commended upon reaching Swordhome.

He looked over to the kitchen and watched Shuya work alongside the ice-mage Donovan as she made the potions. This young woman had fought a minion of the undead and lived to not only tell her story, but to fight them in the corners of her own town. As Cyan admired the strength of the woman behind the counter, she put the last of the potions in a satchel and said, “Finally, we’re done.”

“Good. Everybody ready?” Cyan asked as he put on his helmet.

Rashad got up from his position and said, “No, we’re not ready. Excluding you, only Donovan and I have weapons, but no armor. How are the others supposed to fight those ghouls out there? Punch them really hard and hope they stay down?”

“You forget we have the potion to kill those ghouls…”

Rashad struck him with a look of surprise and said, “You want me to catch fire drinking that stuff? You must be crazy.”

“Cyan’s right, you know.” Shuya walked over with the satchel of potions and held one out to Rashad. “The main component in this potion is wine. We can drink this potion and the potion should act as a counteragent against any ghoul bites we may receive,” she said as she passed around the potions. “Since we don’t have enough armor to go around, we’re all gonna get bitten at least once.”

Still unsteady, Rashad asked, “Are you SURE this is gonna work, Shuya?”

“No, but since we’re all living beings and don’t have many choices in the actions we must take to survive, we’ll be better off. Trust me,” she said with a wink, “I’m a bartender.”

Drowning out Rashad’s protest, Donovan piped up, “I propose a toast: to the fall of Blackheart and the fall of dark magic! CHROVA!”

“CHROVA,” the survivors returned and downed their potions. Rashad was the last to do so as he watched the others drain their draft and flash a light blue aura before returning to normal. He tossed the potion down his gullet and felt the warmth of the potion work its way into his belly, then saw his vision go blue for only a moment and return to normal.

Slapping Moira on the shoulder, Cyan said, “I don’t know what that foreman Jollum was talking about Blackheart having you, but it wasn’t about undeath. You’re clean and ready.” He found his cloak and hood and placed it over the frightened elf woman. “You ready, Moira?”

She nodded and the Halfling said to the others, “Alright, now for weapons. Grab what you can out of here and use it as a weapon. If it stabs, don’t bother; if it bashes or cleaves, then grab it.”

The group looked about the interior of the house. Kitty ripped the posts off the bed frame in Shuya’s bedroom, sending the bed crashing to the floor. Wyle followed suit with another bedpost and knocked the nails flat with his hammer. Moira was still frozen with fear at the idea of facing the undead. Barcrab saw that she hadn’t fond a weapon yet, so he handed her the first one he could find: a fire poker.

“HERE” he said, “YOU NEED THIS.”

She looked up at the Enigman crab-man and rose to her feet, clutching the poker so tightly that her knuckles showed white beneath her skin. The scared seamstress looked around at all the people and said loudly, “Thank you.” The volume of her gratitude made everyone turn to look for a moment. Worry flooded their faces as they heard the fear in her voice, but Cyan broke the mood with a clear voice.

“We are ready.” Cyan looked at Donovan and the ice-mage prepared a spell. The group of survivors got close to each other to keep their area small, and Cyan was close enough to ask Shuya a question.

“Have I ever thanked you for allowing me to stay in your house, Shuya?”

“No,” she said.

“I suppose now’s the time to do so. Thanks.”

“You still owe me rent.”

“I’ll pay you back when we get through this.”

“That’s comforting,” the bartender said as she adjusted her satchel. “I have to go through all the Hells and back to get my money.”

“Money is the least of your problems,” he shot back. Looking out the window, he saw that the ghouls had gathered in front of the door, just as he knew they would. “Donovan, do it!”

The ice-mage set the door to freeze and used his magic to blast the ice outward. Blowing outward in a shower of shards, the ghouls went flying into the street and were frozen by the arctic wind. The path strewn with the pieces of frozen ghoul, the eight survivors charged through the ghouls and headed south to the shadowed manor of Blackheart Estates as Rza shone high overhead against the night sky.