Fine particles of earth drifted down from above, settling on the tip of his nose. The tickling sensation prompted him to brush them away with irritation. More grit clung stubbornly to his eyelashes, fueling his anger more than the oppressive darkness around him.

  "...?" A muffled voice penetrated the blackness ahead. "...?"

  Helmos Pafaheim finally forced his eyes open, struggling to adjust to his surroundings. The effort proved futile—darkness remained absolute. "...?"

  He couldn't discern the words, only that someone was speaking. The oppressive blackness pressed in from all sides; faint, scrabbling sounds sent an involuntary shiver down his spine. His initial hope was that Idaho had regained consciousness, but when the goblin in his arms continued breathing weakly yet steadily, completely motionless, he recognized his optimism as premature. "Who's there?!" he called into the darkness. "Is someone there?"

  "Shut up!" The voice sliced through the darkness—sharp, urgent, menacing—causing the young lord to flinch. He immediately seized his sword and gently set Idaho aside. "Who are you? Where are you hiding?"

  "I said shut up!" The voice lashed out again, more insistent and unreasonable than before. Suddenly, a yellow light bloomed to his left, sending cold fear coursing through Helmos's veins. He had heard tales of Cynthia's soil harboring countless souls—vengeful spirits of those buried alive, forever denied peace. (This is no dream, damn it all.) He'd heard numerous stories about wraiths but had never encountered one personally. (If it truly is a wraith, what in blazes am I supposed to do?) His sword hand trembled uncontrollably. (I'm utterly unprepared for such encounters... Very well—attack first, question later.) He edged cautiously toward the light's flank, crouching beneath the low ceiling, forced to hold his longsword at an awkward angle. (I've heard wraiths glow green... never heard of yellow ones...) Cold sweat beaded on his forehead.

  As if sensing his intentions, the yellow light abruptly halted. (Damn—it's detected me.) Abandoning all thought, he shifted his weight to lunge forward. "So you intend to run me through, my lord?"

  Helmos Pafaheim collapsed backward, landing unceremoniously. "Halleck," he cursed. "What in all the hells are you doing?"

  "What am I doing?" The goblin Halleck stared incredulously. "Rescuing you and my brother, my lord!"

  "If this is a rescue, you might try announcing yourself," the lord grumbled, lowering his sword. "You shouted at me to be quiet with more fury than a dwarf, never mind a goblin."

  "Only because panic had seized you, my lord." Halleck set his lantern down. "I called your name repeatedly. I must have said 'my lord' half a dozen times. Do you realize how you responded? You were howling like a man possessed—loudly enough for those above ground to hear. That's why I demanded silence."

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  "I... I thought you were..." He stammered, his voice thick with embarrassment. "I thought you were a wraith! The old tales say the earth beneath Cynthia is crawling with them!"

  The goblin didn't laugh at his confession. "The wraiths below ground aren't in this particular place," he said solemnly. "How fares my brother?" Without waiting for an answer, Halleck moved toward Idaho following Helmos's gesture. Setting the lantern down, he gently lifted his still-unconscious brother. "Thank you, my lord," he said softly as he cradled Idaho.

  "I should be thanking him, Halleck. He risked everything to save me from certain death."

  "He saved you—and you returned the favor."

  "How did you manage to reach us?"

  "Astonishing, isn't it?" Halleck carefully arranged Idaho on his back, his head tilted with a satisfied expression. "It might seem less miraculous when you learn that the damned magic barrier has been broken."

  "The barrier's been broken?!" Helmos nearly dropped his sword in shock.

  "Precisely, my lord," Halleck replied, his grin widening. "While above ground, I kept praying for some opening to appear so I could retrieve Idaho. Remarkably, my prayers were answered!" The goblin's elation contrasted sharply with the young lord, who staggered backward until his shoulders met the earthen wall for support. "It's finished..." he whispered, trembling. "How long did it withstand the assault?"

  "Uncertain, my lord. Perhaps several hours. I can only estimate."

  Helmos fell silent, using his sword like a walking stick to prevent his knees from buckling. "Since that barrier separated me from Idaho, I've cursed it relentlessly," Halleck continued, seeming perversely satisfied. "Evidently, it worked—"

  "Enough!" Helmos roared.

  Halleck's mouth snapped shut, his eyes wide with alarm. "Forgive my presumption, my lord."

  "Have you forgotten that you are a Royal Messenger of Cynthia? Have you forgotten that it was you who scattered the powder to help raise that very barrier? It is the only reason you could stand there, shameless, and celebrate the fall of the shield that protects our home."

  "I deeply apologize, my lord." His second apology carried genuine contrition, his voice diminished, his head bowed lower. "My concern for Idaho overwhelmed all else."

  "What's done cannot be undone," the young lord sighed heavily.

  "Yet possibilities for redemption remain, my lord." Halleck adjusted his brother's weight and stepped closer. "Fierce combat rages at the breach—both forces fighting desperately. Currently, we maintain a slight advantage." He pointed upward, where faint sounds of boots and battle cries filtered through the earth. "If Lord Pafaheim were to return to the field, it would give our men a surge of confidence. It would forge their fear into fresh resolve. They think you are dead, my lord. You must prove them wrong."

  Helmos sheathed his blade decisively. "Lead on, Halleck. They await my return."

  "Again, I offer my sincerest apologies for my thoughtless words."

  Helmos Pafaheim gave a solemn nod. "Apology accepted. Now, I must go and salvage what I can."

  "'We,' my lord," Halleck corrected, a small, determined smile touching his lips.

  "This is not your war."

  "It is now."

  "Proceed."

  "This direction."