From Hōz’s perspective Allistar moved beneath him at a fair gallop along the stone-paved road. However, the terrain about them became a steady blur as soon as the speed magic took effect. The grassland on either side of the road appeared as a continual streak of textured green and the sky above a fuzzy blue streaked with white lines; except for a swirling black cloud that kept pace with the magically enhanced horse.

  Another straight bolt of lightning fell from the center of the cloud. Hōz easily guided his horse to the left to avoid the bolt, which exploded onto the road behind them.

  The horse didn’t care for this at all, protesting vigorously each time another bolt fell behind them. The blue elf stroked the stallion’s neck to calm him.

  “Look on the bright side boy. Magical bolts don’t miss under normal circumstances – part of being magical I suppose. Thanks to the haste charm they strike perfectly where you were when they launched.”

  Allistar snorted as if unimpressed.

  “I understand.” Hōz admitted. “Just another of those boring details one picks up over the millennia; I was only trying to make conversation.”

  The blurry streaks on either side of the road suddenly became visible terrain, albeit moving by the horse and rider at an impossibly fast pace. Hōz spun around in the saddle and held tight with his legs, facing backwards.

  He had prepared for this moment, knowing the spell of haste would wind down and dissipate. As the sound of Allistar’s hoofbeats became a normal galloping rhythm, the elf said the word for slow in his language; immediately the horse dropped his speed to a steady trot.

  The blue elf tossed a quartz crystal cut in the form of a triangular horseman’s shield into the air above and said “ Scutum Perpetuum .” The air on all sides of the horse and rider shimmered faintly.

  The swirling black clouds directly overhead sent another straight bolt of lightning to the ground. The crackling pillar struck directly atop the mounted ranger but did not pass the shimmering barrier, crackling and bursting outward in all directions instead.

  Allistar whinnied emphatically his displeasure.

  “I know.” Hōz comforted the steed as he nocked an arrow with a blue obsidian arrowhead. He raised his bow, aimed for the center of the black cloud, and started to speak.

  Before he could utter the first word of his incantation the cloud above vanished with a whooshing sound. Surprised, Hōz lowered his bow but continued to look at the sky where the cloud had been.

  A female silver elf with white hair appeared where the cloud vanished, her silver eyes framed by a sparkling diadem as she smiled at him. He knew, in the way strong psychics tend to know things, that her name was Shiyeknihel and she was a Moon Elf.

  “I was about to take care of that.” he said to the giant face high above. “Thank you anyway.”

  Her smile widened.

  Uncomfortable with the impact her beauty had on him Hōz politely averted his eyes. He felt a certain awkwardness he hadn’t experienced in at least many centuries at the sight of a beautiful female.

  Hōz remained backwards-facing in the saddle and Allistar continued to trot along.

  “Are there no limits to the meddling you are willing to indulge in?” asked the voice of a male elf. The voice came from above, presumably behind the female.

  The female sighed. “It is in our interests to expedite this matter, that he may move on to the work we have for him.”

  “Our interests indeed.” the male elf muttered. “I have an obligation as the Keeper of our Arcanum; Prionsza I must inform you that I intend to file a grievance of malfortune against you for this…”

  “I dare you to do that.” the Premier Lady’s voice was harsh, stern, but still so lovely.

  “Do you threaten me?” the Keeper asked incredulously.

  “Yes!” the face in the sky hissed over her shoulder.

  “I absolutely threaten you and I will make good on my threat.” She turned away to deliver this statement to the Keeper. Her tone was the sort of shouting-under-breath one sees when a mother deals with an unruly child in a public setting.

  The face in the sky turned back to face Hōz, immediately regaining its pleasant expression. She mouthed the word “sorry” to the blue elf below and quickly rolled her eyes.

  She cleared her throat and took on a more formal tone. “Hōz the Nokturim will be upon you again soon.” She glared over her shoulder briefly. “I am limited in what I may offer directly, but I did as you asked and contacted other elves to aid me and they in turn shall aid you.”

  “Good to know.” Hōz interrupted. “Thanks for all, I’ll be on my way now.”

  Not missing a beat, the moon elf continued. “Ride south close to the mountains for the next two miles. You will find aid for the fight with the dark elves.”

  “I don’t want aid nor a fight with the dark elves.” the blue elf protested.

  “You have no choice in the latter.” the Premier Lady said flatly. “An enemy you do not yet know has set these dark elves upon you. They are well paid and fanatical and will not stop until you defeat them.”

  Hōz sighed. “I have a job you know? My associates are engaging a wyvern any day now and may need my help.”

  “They absolutely need your help with the wyvern and more. You see?” the elf in the sky explained. “Your fortune and our designs are linked.”

  Hōz shook his head.

  “If you succeed against the dark elves you must go to Sigma’s Archway.” Prionsza began.

  “If I succeed?” Hōz balked.

  “I cannot guarantee you succeed or even survive. You must see to that.” the moon elf explained. “If you succeed go to Sigma’s Archway and find the teal coastal frog in the shallow waters near the ruins. You must take…”

  “I must take a gland from under the frog’s throat.” the blue elf finished the moon elf’s sentence. “Why do I know that?”

  Hōz thought a moment. “The evil fay make a toxin using Hekelius Spire and Night Shade; the frog gland is the only antidote. There is also another use for the secretion of the gland… How do I know this?”

  The face in the sky leaned in, looking closely at the blue elf.

  “So this Mother of Thorns is the queen of the evil fay. There is a great battle. Kovak is lost in time. Mlasha…” Hōz remembered meeting himself at the pavilion. He remembered the event from both perspectives because he was both blue elves in that scenario.

  He remembered his own future, but some of it connected to a past he did not recall. “What the hells?”

  “It’s true then.” said the moon elf. “You remember time lost to the looping, or timelines that no longer exist for the rest of the world. You remember your own future in some cases.”

  Hōz met the eyes of the face in the sky. “Your doing?”

  “Not deliberately.” said Shiyeknihel. “You were inadvertently affected by magic I ordered to preserve our memory on this moon and protect it from time loops and other temporal chaos.”

  “What?” the voice of the Keeper demanded. “I very much object to this accusation.”

  “It’s true Gulydriadge.” the Premier Lady replied. “We can show you on the pool the moment it happened. The blue elf was touched through the pool by your ritual.”

  “Oh dear,” another male moon elf said.

  The same voice in a deep tone, mockingly formal, then said: “Keeper I must inform you of my intention to file a grievance of malfortune against you for this carelessness…”

  “You ass!” the Keeper lashed out.

  “I am dutybound as the Custodian of this pool.” Iyepsilon continued in his mock-formal tone. “Surely one of your dignity and formal persuasion can understand…”

  “If anyone is to blame it’s you for having the damn pool on the blue elf while I worked said ritual!” the Keeper boomed.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Yeah.” the Custodian scoffed. “I’m sure the Arbitration Board will see it that way as well.”

  “You arse-kissing, glorified pool boy…” the Keeper raised his voice.

  “THAT… WILL… SUFFICE!” Prionsza declared.

  Immediately the two male voices went completely silent.

  When Hōz looked up he saw the back of the Premier Lady’s head. Her long white locks trembled emphatically with each word.

  She turned back around, a hint of embarrassment shone through her broad smile. “Forgive me, Hōz. As I was about to say, your temporal memory will ever be intact, meaning if time loops or a time traveler changes the timeline you will see the changes in the world along with everyone else but you will also remember the previous timeline and the way things were.”

  Hōz said nothing to this.

  “Understand therefore, some of the memories you now have of your future will not come to pass, as the timeline has changed.” Shiyeknihel explained.

  “I can’t discern the true future from the events that are no longer valid?” the blue elf questioned, somewhat incredulously.

  “To my knowledge, that is true.” the Premier Lady said apologetically. “Though there is nothing to prevent you from devising a method that would allow such discernment.”

  Hōz rolled his eyes and turned back around in his saddle to face forward again.

  “The dark elves will translocate ahead of you in just over a mile, past the natural stone towers in the mountain’s shadow.” Prionsza warned. “Their sorceress has gone into to the astral to conduct reconnaissance and see that you will reach that point in twelve minutes; she has committed their arrival point to memory to make the leap safely.”

  “Wonderful.” said Hōz. “Thanks for the tip, we’ll be sticking to the road then.”

  “Your assistance awaits in the foothills beyond the granite spires.” said the moon elf.

  “I’ll not make it past the damned spires in under twelve minutes. The Nokturum seer was right.” Hōz snapped.

  The landscape shifted and blurred. When it became clear again the horse trotted alongside a field of peculiar, natural granite towers; Allistar neighed in alarm at the sudden change but kept his pace.

  “What the devil?” Hōz demanded.

  “You now have a lead of several minutes.” Prionsza announced. “Don’t waste it.”

  “What of free will?” Hōz called out. “You choose my path for me now?”

  The blue elf looked to the sky but the beautiful moon elf was gone.

  The strange natural granite forms – collectively known as Bthunden’s Garden - were as lovely as they were mysterious. Spaced on average twenty yards apart, the base of each was a mound roughly thirty feet across that looked as though it had been poured into place. The layers and ripples in the stone brought to mind frozen liquid.

  From this poured base the spire curled and twisted up to varying height; some towers stood only forty feet while others reached close to one-hundred feet. The width of the spires varied along their spiral forms; narrow stretches could be only six feet wide and broad sections in some cases were twenty feet across or more.

  The field of spires stretched along the base of the nearest mountain for about half a mile and maintained a steady width of around eighty feet. Naturalists debated whether this unique display of natural art had been caused by glaciers during the age of freezing or resulted from some unknown magical disturbance.

  No serious academic attributed the formations to the mountain giant B’thunden and his mythological interest in sculpting. Scholars on the fringe of accepted history speculated the area had been exposed to the magical whims of the First Builders, to whom they also credited the odd ruins in the region.

  Few inhabitants of the realms had even heard of the First Builders. Hōz was well aware of such histories, and he accepted them as truth because he’d met members of his own clan who witnessed those ancient beings firsthand.

  Hōz spurred the Khelt stallion forward at a gallop; not full speed by any means on this rough terrain, but a fast run nonetheless. He allowed himself to enjoy the unusual beauty of the spires as he and Allistar sped past.

  At the end of the field he turned his attention to the tall, sharp mountains on his right. The Jagged Jaws were a unique range, straight and tall like daggers or fangs against the sky.

  It occurred to the blue elf that he was casually appreciating the scenery. He suddenly felt very awkward within himself, even scolded himself.

  One lovely face and suddenly you’re back to appreciating the landscape. What next? Perhaps a trip to the art museum back in Triestjen?

  A few hundred yards past the end of B’thunden’s Garden he heard the moon elf in his mind. Make haste towards Sliding Pass .

  He started to ask why but decided not to enact the labor. He steered the horse appropriately and began to formulate a rough notion of what he would do in the impending fight.

  He reached into a small saddlebag on the stallion’s neck, rummaged for a moment, then produced a small doll in the likeness of a blue elf. The doll fit neatly into the palm of his hand.

  Allistar was a remarkable and well-trained steed. Once he’d been instructed on a direction Hōz was free to use both hands and place all his intention into the magical operation of his choosing. The stallion’s size provided immense stability for most any kind of working.

  First thing’s first . Thought Hōz. Defenses in place allow for focused counter-offensive at the onset of a fight.

  “ Invisibilia Diu .” He spoke the words, rousing the magical agent within and causing himself and his horse to become completely invisible to the naked eye.

  Next, he said “ Duplicare Imaginem .”

  A perfect likeness of himself and Allistar appeared alongside them to the right.

  Holding the small doll aloft he said “ Ardeat Calore Sustinium !”

  The toy blue elf ignited from its center in a perfect orange flame. He held the doll until it was nearly covered by the fire and became a burn risk; at that point he tossed the burning doll to his right, where it landed in the center of the illusionary horse and rider.

  The doll quickly burned completely away. Hōz mentally gave a command to the illusion, and the horse veered far to the right. At a distance of about one-hundred yards the image dropped back another fifty yards behind him and Allistar.

  Seeing into the far-red spectrum of light Hōz confirmed the presence of his ever-burning enchantment. While he could not see heat directly, the radiance cast by his burning doll magic indicated to him that a heat signature was in fact present. The dark elves would take this to mean the illusion was a living horse and rider.

  Finally Hōz said “ Frigus Caeluri .”

  A brief shimmer of blue light coalesced around him and Allistar, then faded. The air became notably cooler, almost cold around the horse and the blue elf.

  That should conceal our heat signature to a degree. At the very least a casual glance will overlook us in favor of the warm and glowing illusion.

  Satisfied with his initial layer of magical defense, the ranger began to go over scenarios in his mind and prepare potential responses.

  A little over a mile later a sharp alert, not pain but an abrupt sensation, in his abdomen told the blue elf that potent magic of a sudden nature had been enacted or had taken effect in range of his senses. Looking back over his shoulder he could see just over two miles behind the six tchaka and their dark elven riders had arrived by translocation at the start of B’thunden’s Garden.

  The flightless birds shifted and darted about as if their riders were uncertain of where to lead them. The Nokturim faced away from Hōz at that moment, for they had expected to appear ahead of Allistar.

  It would take them a minute to gather themselves, perhaps punish the sorceress for her error, and then enact the magic to locate the decoy Hōz had put in place. The blue elf rolled his shoulders and metered his breathing; it had been a while since he’d been in a proper fight.

  A smile touched the corners of the ranger’s mouth.