"You don't fear the reaper," Lita said. "Not that I'm a reaper."

  Gord's face was wet. So were the little patches of hair on the sides of his skull. Another wave of water splashed across his upper torso. He groggily raised his eyelids. Lita was looking down at him, pointing her staff, which dripped like a faucet. "The kid is he…?"

  "Your friend is healthy." She pointed towards the corner of the room.

  Jam was sitting on the floor, tied in vines. The young headbanger smiled wide enough to show his teeth. "I let her tie me up," he explained with an eagerness that bordered on pride. "I surrendered!"

  "Good work," Gord said without sarcasm. Surrender was likely this young man's only logical choice. "Why am I still alive?"

  "Because you're a mystery." She continued to stare at him as if he were a massive bug. "You both are mysteries to me."

  "I'm a mystery," Jam said. "Me! A mystery! Just like Dio sings about. It's low-key cool, isn't it?"

  "Yes," Gord replied. "It's cool." The kid, despite his poor taste in some metal bands, knew about Dio. He wasn't as musically illiterate as he appeared. A minuscule amount of fondness grew in Gord's heart, like one might have for a moth or a distant aunt who lives in Kalamazoo.

  "I have met no one so impervious to magic." She hadn't stopped examining Gord. And he couldn't help staring at her hair. Anyone, male or female, who could grow long flowing hair impressed him. "Only golems. And Omen toads."

  "Nice company to be in," he said.

  She tapped his shoulder with her staff. "This is the culprit. You have a glowing badge on your arm."

  "It's a tattoo," he said. "I got it because, well, I survive things. I absorbed a grenade once. Um, it's a thing that explodes."

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  She nodded. "This is a valuable skill. Are you protected from magic in your own world?"

  "Our magicians don't do real magic; they just fool your eyes and your mind."

  "Oh, we call that type millivanillis here," she said.

  It was disconcerting how many things from his own world were reflected on Metaloria.

  "I'm not immune to magic," Jam squeaked with a touch of wheedling disappointment in his voice. "She tried a spell on me."

  "I'm sure you have your own gifts, Jam," Gord said.

  "He has a special ability called Shield Magic," Jam volunteered to Lita. "I can see it on the list above his head."

  Lita frowned suspiciously at Jam. The young man was gifted at getting himself into trouble. He'd have been the first to be murdered if his fellow middle-grade kids went all Lord of the Flies. "Shield Magic, is a curious metal ability. It explains why my Frost Bolt didn't freeze you long. So I have decided that with the guidance from a woman of great knowledge like myself, we can get to the bottom of both these skills you two have."

  At that moment, a small note came from her head, floated across the room and hit him in the chest. He felt stronger. More powerful. Smarter.

  "What was that?" he asked, happy his voice didn't sound freaked out.

  "A Note of Power," she said. "Don't panic; it means you learned something. It is a long story, but in this world, when you learn something new, you become stronger. Also, when you kill things, sadly."

  "Why didn't I get one?" Jam asked.

  "Alas, you learned nothing," she said. "This time. Prepare yourselves, we have a trip to take."

  "A trip?" Gord said. He thought of Kim and how far away she might be.

  "Do I have to be tied up?" Jam asked. "I mean, I understand I am powerful in this realm, and I accept you must fear me, and mortals will quake when I look in their direction, but must I be tied up?"

  Lita gestured, and the vines undid themselves and sank into the floor, vanishing. "You need to have free hands to carry things. And you aren't really all that powerful at this stage unless someone else uses your powers."

  "I need to find my niece," Gord said.

  "We are very far away from Blayre Palace, where she was spawned. But I have a friend who could help. He will also help me decide what to do with the both of you." She made a small circular gesture, and the door opened in the wall.

  "Who is your friend?" Gord asked.

  "Oh, my friend's name is Fidds," she said. "But you should address him as The Great Druid King Fidds. I think you'll like him. He makes a really amazing trixster beer."

  Gord grinned. "I'm liking him already."