"But I have, sire, "said Talbot. "Using several of our better artifacts as bribes, I was able to get an audience with the First's primary advisor."

"Well done, Talbot," congratulated Laquatas, his smile broadening further. "Excellent work. With a little luck, and some mental trickery, this advisor will be happy to present our case to the First-perhaps even grant us an audience. When is your appointment?"

"Noon tomorrow, my lord."

"And what is this functionary's name?"

"Braids, sire."

Laquatas's smile faded. "Braids," muttered the suddenly weary mer to himself. "I hoped she had died when that fool Chainer destroyed Cabal City."

Looking once again at Talbot's face in his mirror, Laquatas said, "This will take a level of deception I don't think you've quite attained, Talbot. Take the mirror with you to this meeting, and I will handle Braids. Afterward we will discuss what to do with Ambassador Veza," snarled the mer through clenched teeth.

Kamahl approached Auror village with a mixture of relief and dread. It felt good to be nearing the home of his youth, and he longed to see his sister, his master, and those childhood friends who had not yet succumbed to the rigors of the barbarian life. But how long would it be before the challenges came, and could he control his power within the chaos of a barbarian challenge battle?

Kamahl had sidestepped those same questions when he had met his apprentices outside Cabal City. Feigning fatigue and injury that would tarnish the outcome of the battle, Kamahl put off the eldest apprentice's challenge for several days and then slipped away from the trio in the dead of night.

Trotting away from the sleeping mountain mages, Kamahl touched the black smudges that still darkened his face and said, "We have come full circle, friend Chainer. You have gone to Fiers to become a barbarian, while I slink into the night like a Cabal assassin."

Still, one small dishonor is far better than three deaths staining my hands, thought Kamahl as he came over the hillock that rose above Auror village. But how long until they're stained anyway?

The barbarian had arrived home as the hearth fires burned low, well after midnight. The village, bathed in moonlight, would sleep until the sun crested the mountains in the morning. Perhaps I can enjoy one more night of peace, thought Kamahl as he descended into the village.

As soon as Kamahl opened the door to his house, a dark form rushed at him out of the shadows cast by the last few embers in the hearth. Kamahl sidestepped quickly and pushed off of the charging figure. Crashing into a bureau, Kamahl's assailant rolled off the chest and rebounded back into the fray.

Kamahl caught the glint of an axe head in the ember light, coming at him chest high. Jumping up just before the deadly weapon struck home, Kamahl grabbed a beam and swung himself over his axe-wielding foe. Unable to stop his forward momentum, the axe bearer hit the wall with a dull thud, embedding his weapon a full three inches into the wood.

"Stand still and fight like a man, ye metal-skinned behemoth!" roared Kamahl's attacker, as he tugged on his axe.

"Watch your backside, you overgrown gnome," called Kamahl. He spun around in a vicious roundhouse punch that caught the dwarf full in the temple as the little man struggled to free the embedded axe. The dwarf went flying past the hearth, the force of the blow sending him eight feet through the air.

Landing on his backside facing the big barbarian, the dwarf shook his axe, which was still clenched in his hands. "Hah!

Thanks for freeing me axe, ye big oaf. This is for calling me a gnome." With that, the dwarf jumped up, swung his axe up over his head, muttered several ancient dwarvish words, and heaved the now glowing weapon straight at the barbarian's face.

The axe tumbled through the air, lightning crackling along its blade. Unfazed by the show of magic, Kamahl whipped his sword out of its scabbard up over his head and swung the red-hot blade at the incoming missile. When the two magically enhanced weapons collided, the room erupted in light and sound, and the concussion knocked the dwarf back to the ground.

"Your axe is stuck in the wall again, Balthor," stated Kamahl as he sheathed his sword and walked over to help his mentor back to his feet.

"Where did ye learn that trick, son?" asked Balthor as he dusted himself off. "That was a mighty impressive display of power. And where did ye learn those moves? I never taught ye to jump and weave like that."

"The moves I picked up while fighting in the pits next to Chainer," replied Kamahl.

"Aye, we met this Chainer, Jeska and I, when we went out looking for ye," cut in Balthor as he dusted off his breeches and headed over to get his axe out of the wall again. "Good fella. I believe he has a bit of barbarian blood coursing through his body."

"Had!" interjected Kamahl.

"Hrmph?" huffed Balthor as he heaved on his axe, which was embedded up to the haft this time.

"Chainer had a bit of barbarian blood," repeated Kamahl as he strode over to the wall beside Balthor. "Chainer is dead, Balthor, and I was powerless to save him." With that, Kamahl grabbed the axe handle and popped the weapon out of the wall as easy as if he were pulling a grape off a vine. Setting the weapon into Balthor's hand, the large barbarian dropped onto a heap of firecat skins with an audible sigh.

"If ye were powerless to save your friend," said Balthor as he probed the huge hole in the wall with his short fingers, "then whoever killed him musta been a god, or…" Balthor paused a moment to look around the darkening room, "… a planes-walker."

"This is what killed Chainer," said Kamahl as he pulled his sword out once again and held it up for Balthor to see the pommel. "The Mirari. The artifact I've been searching for. The magical orb that seems to yield both ultimate power and ultimate destruction. In the end, Chainer couldn't control it, and it killed him. Now I must see if I am powerful enough to control it."

Balthor marveled at the glistening orb. For a time he didn't speak, hardly breathed, just stared into the depths of the orb's mirrored surface.

"Balthor," Kamahl called. "Balthor!"

Balthor shook his head, closed his eyes, and after a moment opened his eyes and looked once again at his pupil.

"What did you see, my master?" asked Kamahl.

"I was atop Fiers mountain in a glorious battle, fighting beside the Lady herself," said the dwarf. "I was invincible, like no power on Dominaria could dare face me. I felt like I could make it all happen if only I had the power of this here orb in my hands."

"Everyone sees something different, some personal dream or desire," said Kamahl. "But desire and power without control leads to destruction. You taught me that, Balthor. Now I have seen the truth of your words in this orb… this artifact that I must learn to control."

"Aye. And I will help ye. You're a strong man, Kamahl. Ye proved that to me again tonight. Together we'll control this here orb and bring honor and glory to the village." Balthor leaned down and pulled a firecat fur up over the large barbarian. "Now, get some sleep. Remember, fatigue is the thief of control. We'll start your training anew in the morning."

Although neither man got a full night's sleep, Balthor and Kamahl were out running through the mountain passes before the sun's light hit the village. By the time the sun was straight above them, the odd looking duo had covered a dozen miles of rough, rocky passes, mostly in silence.

"Just like the old days, eh Kamahl?" huffed Balthor, who had to pump his legs twice as fast as the much larger barbarian, yet never fell behind.

"Yes," replied Kamahl easily, not even breaking a sweat despite the hours of exercise and the steep angle of the path. "It's good to feel the chill, Pardic winds. You wouldn't believe the stench of the city. Too many people and never enough air to breathe. My head and lungs both feel cleansed."