During your travels through life, you may have experiences which seem random, even crazy or near impossible. A look, a comment, or even someone you may recognize. Some would say this is deja vu. Others might dismiss the experience altogether.

Know that the Universe is talking to you, through every look and every experience you have--leading, guiding, and prompting you along your path.

It is when we fail to recognize those gentler prompts, that the Universe is forced to reach out to grab our attention.

Now Wendell understood why no one knew where the Black Market actually was.

The entire enterprise was in an underground cavern.

At first he thought they had come out the side of a mountain, into a giant valley. He thought they were staring into the night sky, which is what he’d expected.

Far from it.

They had just passed from a smaller cave into a much larger one. Scattered lanterns and fires poked through the thin haze of smoke, the bioluminescent snails feasting on stalactites overhead, bringing light from the ceiling above.

Through the haze, it looked like thousands of stars in the distant sky.

The Black Market’s private universe.

Looking out across the cavern, Wendell felt as if he were standing on the edge of a shallow bowl, the road under his feet sloping downward gradually, branching out to weave through the hovels and shacks of a lively city before rising again on the other side. The dim light lent an air of mystery, cloaking the details of the market in secrecy, just waiting to be explored. He inhaled deeply, savoring the moist air that clung to him with its smoky, meaty, earthy flavor. Everything moved to the rhythm of the rushing underground river, or pulsing to the twang of a blacksmith’s hammer.

Chuck and Dax were waiting for Wendell just a few feet in. Being so fascinated by what he saw, he had stopped short.

“Get moving, kid. You’re in the way,” a guard barked, pushing him away with the flat side of his drawn blade.

“Sorry, Sir,” Wendell squeaked and quickly joined Chuck and a glaring Dax.

“Rule four, kid—Don’t tick off the Sentry,” he growled, leaning his head in the direction of the guards. “They don’t give second chances.”

Regardless of Dax’s pushing and prodding, Wendell couldn’t help himself. This was nothing like he had ever seen, and before long had stopped again to take it all in. Many of the new arrivals, especially those with animals, turned immediately to the left, driving their livestock towards a large building and corral which wore a sign that said: Exchange.

“Exchange what?” Wendell asked, watching people in line with chickens, pigs, sheep and the like.

“The Market deals in two currencies,” Chuck said, leaning in close to Wendell. “Gold and crystals. The Gypsies will trade almost anything if it’s valuable enough, but gold a crystals are the hard currency everyone will accept. Food is scarce down here, so animals fetch a fair amount of coin.” Then, taking note of Wendell’s enthralled expression, he whispered, “Welcome to the Black Market, son.” With a light grasp of his elbow, the wizard then guided him down the street.

Wendell stared about him as men and women laughed, calling out to one another, passing briskly by with loaded baskets or pulling small carts. People of all types and unusual character buzzed around him, buying, haggling, and selling. Robes and slacks, turbans and hats, clean shaven and woven beards accented with silver and gold…it was as if the societies of the world had collided together in friendship. All the while, children with dirty faces and unkempt hair raced through the streets, dodging through grown-up legs, laughing as if nothing in the world existed except the games they played.

A lively woman covered in shawls and jewelry bowed to Chuck as she passed. The wizard tipped his hat in return, then bowed politely to an elderly couple after her. The man leaned heavily on his walking stick, hunched under the burden strapped to his back. The couple paused to smile and  warmly greeted the wizard before hobbling on their way.

Dax, all the while, bobbed his head from side to side and if looking for something.

This doesn’t look scary at all, Wendell realized, Chuck was right.

For the most part, Wendell thought the patrons seemed…normal.

Well, almost.

There were dwarves who looked like they’d just stepped out of the movies with their long, braided beards woven into their shoulder-length hair or tucked into belts around bulging bellies. Chain mail armor clanged as they strode with pride, wielding giant hammers and glistening axes. They grinned behind dirty faces as they inspected raw crystals and rough-cut gems in the candlelight.

Wendell couldn’t help but stare.

“Kutollum,” whispered Chuck over his shoulder, “The common tongue call them dwarves. Brilliant craftsmen and artisans…though I’d never want to see a female enter a swimsuit competition.” He shuddered. “It’s bad enough the men have backs like hairy goats, if you know what I mean.”

A group of tiny people surprised Wendell as they passed. At first he thought they were children, but did a double take when one in their party turned around with a full beard and winked at him.

“Gnomes,” the wizard grinned. “Lovely people, clever as they come.”

Gratefully, Wendell had yet to see a vallen. All the prior talk about Thule and the race that everyone seemed to fear, well…had him on edge. Luckily the market seemed giant-free. In fact, Wendell didn’t see a single blue person, anything he would qualify as a monster and no aliens.

Well, except himself.

Wendell also noticed that the people varied greatly in dress. A few appeared wealthy, with bright colored drapes, headdresses and jewelry. Others were lowly in dirty, worn clothing that hung on lean frames—but most were somewhere in the middle. Regardless of the dress, people continued to smile, speak kindly to one another and exchange goods and coin.

Wendell smirked to himself. No matter how uncomfortable he felt, his outfit fit in here. No one looked oddly at the wizard, and no one laughed or even batted an eye at Dax’s boxer shorts or the fact that he walked about bare chested.

Wendell shook his head, Weird.

They pushed their way through the market, past haggling groups of women or merchants striving to get the best deal on goods or services.

Well, Wendell had to push anyway.

The sea of bodies seemed to flow around the wizard, being both aware and unaware of his presence at the same time. Wendell, on the other hand, was jostled and bumped every few steps, stepped on by whining sheep and goats as they were driven towards the holding pens.

Women impatiently excused themselves as they moved around him with clay pots on their heads or poles with hanging flasks of who-knows-what. Wendell even moved aside for a small handcart clattering with swords, knives and shields, another close behind, crammed with bolts of coarse cloth and blankets.

As long as he followed directly behind Chuck, Wendell was just fine. He just hated the limited view.

Rounding a set of tents, a small crowd of children forced them to stop short.

“What now?” Dax grunted, irritated.

The children were ooohing and aahhhing, clambering and bouncing around an old man, naked to the waste, dark skinned with scars down both back and arms. Draped over his shoulders was a lean, virtually glowing, yellow lizard. It’s long, slender tail wrapped around the man’s chest.

The creature swayed its narrow, horn-crowned head forward and hissed at the small grasping hands, bearing its needle teeth and flexing its…

…wings? Wendell gawked. It’s a dragon! A real dragon!??

He had always dreamed about dragons when he was a kid. He’d always wondered what it would be like to own such a mythical beast. A best friend to keep him company, protect him from the bullies at school and to share his loneliness. His best dreams that he could remember growing up always contained dragons.

Sure, this one was a bit small to ride off into the sunset, but…

That is so unbelievably AWESOME!

Wendell took a step closer to the ring of youth, instantly enchanted by the glistening of the serpents scales and its emerald green eyes, which glowed brightly in the dim light.

It’s so beautiful. So perfect. …and he reached for his coin pouch.

Chuck patted Wendell’s forearm, “Dragon’s are not an impulse item, son.” He smiled then, “Those beasts are an exceedingly rare breed and to trifle with its life without being able to commit your time, attention and love as the serpent deserves, well…you might as well end its life and serve it up as soup.

Wendell’s face scrunched, “Ew.”

“Exactly. It’s simply not natural, son,…and neither would it be for you to own such a beast.” He smiled again, “They are meant to be free.”

Wendell stared longingly at the dragon. Oh, but it’s so beautiful…

Without warning, the beast turned from the children’s attention altogether and looked directly at Wendell. Their eyes met, and she stretched forth her head, slightly cocking it to the side.

Wendell’s brows crinkled forward in curiosity. It’s almost like you want me to pet you.

The dragon shook its head.

A reaction which caused Wendell’s head to pop upright. Did you…? Noooooo. That almost looked like you heard me.

The old man was chastising a child, completely unaware as the dragon flicked her long tongue through the air, bobbing its chin, almost unnoticed.

Wendell peered into her eyes. But I haven’t said anything, I’m just thinking! Which mean I’m just imagining this, right?

The dragon gently shook it head.

“Coolness!” he squeaked out loud, clasping his hands together.

Dax glared up at him. “It’s just a stupid lizard.”

Coughing, Wendell grinned wider. “Yeah. Sure.” Then, You CAN hear me, as in, my thoughts?

The dragon swayed his head from side to side with the bouncing of its masters shoulders, then nodded once more.

AWESOME!!

At that moment, nothing in the world seemed to matter to Wendell. Not being on this world, not being stuck, not having a huge gem sticking out of his chest…and not even having Dax as a guardian. After a lifetime of dreaming and wishing, hoping that dragons could be real, here he was, face to face with success.

“Can we GO now?” Dax complained.

“Oh for goodness sakes,” hissed the wizard, “let the boy have his magical moments, monkey. I recall a young evolu who wanted to touch and taste everything that existed once upon a time.”

Dax snorted, “We if he’s gonna eat that thing, fine, but…”

Chuck thumped his companion on the head with his staff, “Zip it.”

Dax grumbled.

For long moments Wendell and the dragon stared at one another, frozen in time.

Wendell didn’t know why, but all he could think of at that moment was being controlled. His finger went to his wrists and absentmindedly scratched and then pulled at the collar of his tunic. He felt…trapped.

“All you alright, son?” Chuck asked.

“I,” he started to say, but stopped.

No, it wasn’t him. The dragon was a captive. She wanted to be free. Wendell could feel her sorrow, and he gasped for breath. His throat hurt. It burned. His shoulders ached and he could feel the bruises along his back and legs.

Trapped. Chained. Alone.

Shaking her head, the dragon blinked, breaking eye contact. The head withdrew and turned away, pulling her wings and tail in closer to her body.

“They are a noble race of creatures.”

The admiration was so strong in Chuck’s voice, the dragon’s spell over Wendell was broken.

He took a shuddering breath, eyes blinking, but they still lingered on the creature draped over the human’s shoulder.

“He beats her,” Wendell said softly.

“I have little doubt,” the wizard replied in a solemn tone. “Such is the way with trappers and handlers in most of the world. There used to be a time when those with true skill won the affections of the beasts they sought to control. It was about friendship, confidence…and trust.”

Wendell watched the man yank on the thin chain controlling the serpent. “And now?”

“Now,” Dax sighed, “it’s mostly through fear n’ pain…and repetition. No class if ya ask me.”

The wizard sighed heavily, “This wouldn’t have happened back when the Verrdrä roamed free.”

“The Dragon Lords?” Wendell asked, rubbing his temple. A tinge of pain trickled down the back of his skull to his spine.

“You’ve heard of the Dragon Lords?” Chuck asked, “I’m impressed!”

Wendell nodded, “The High Elder told me all about them right before,” he made a jabbing motion with his hand towards the center of his chest.

Chuck nodded slowly. “Annnnnd now I’m less impressed.”

“What? Why?”

“The Iskari, as wonderful as they are as a whole, still lack personal reference. They have worlds of knowledge in their libraries, stored up for generations, but much of it is collected records from other people’s records, not first hand recordings. As for myself, well…I’m a hands on type of guy.”

Dax snorted, “You call blasting someone on the opposite end of a field of battle with hailstones on fire ‘hands on’ old man?”

Chuck frowned, “Well, no, but…and that only happened ONCE! The wind was shifting, so it didn’t count.”

The evolu smirked.

“And I PAID the farmer for his barn, AND his cow, AND his horses, IN FULL!” Adjusting his hat, “POINT being that I happen to KNOW the Verrdrä.”

“BWAHAHA!” burst Dax, “You met one of them….once! What, now yer sayin’ ya BBQ together? WhatEVER!”

“So why not…buy her and set free her, then?”

The wizard whipped his head back to the conversation. “What was that?”

Wendell nodded towards the dragon, “Why can’t we buy her and then take her into the wild and set her free?”

Chuck gently bit his bottom lip and placed a gentle hand on Wendell’s elbow. “We could, but we don’t know where she’s from, son, or whether she even knows how to care for herself. If she doesn’t know how to hunt, we could be the cause of starving her to death. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

“Of course not!”

The wizard nodded in agreement, “Of course not. Neither would I, which means it’s probably better to leave her where she’s at, for now.”

I’m so sorry, Wendell thought, giving the dragon a last glance. If there was something I could do, I would. Really. Reluctantly, he turned to follow the wizard away.

Once past the initial shops and large, self-contained booths, the market opened to wider streets, where vendors behind carts swarmed like bees around honey. The first street vendor they came upon had many colorful jars in his small cart, shaded by a crude canopy strung up overhead. He was a gaunt, greying man, in worn clothing. He smiled brightly, as they stopped, dispelling the shadows of countenance, and waved his hands over the selection.

“Could I interest you good sirs, in a snack ?” he offered. “Maybe fried Setana? It’s very fresh.”

Wendell looked at Chuck. The wizard shrugged, pulling a funny face, but then he nodded approval.

“Uh, sure,” Wendell leaned over the cart wanting to get a better look at the unusual food. It wouldn’t hurt to try a few new things, would it? It looked safe enough, kinda like popcorn…but green.

“I gotta see this,” Dax chuckled, pushing his way to Wendell’s side. Reaching into the waistband of his shorts, he added, “This one’s on me, kid,” and handed the man a coin.

Wendell smiled half-heartedly as he took the folded paper with the small green pieces of…he still wasn’t sure. At home, he prided himself in having a strong constitution and usually, enjoyed trying new foods. If it weren’t for Dax making such a stink, he probably wouldn’t have thought much about this.

Wendell picked up one of the bits and inspected it. It looked fine, well, other than being a sickly green. It really did smell a lot like popcorn.  Buttered popcorn. Glancing down at Dax, bulging yellow eyes staring at him expectantly, Wendell popped it into his mouth.

Hmmm. He chewed, the faint crunching sound escaping. Interesting. Salty, a little bitter, more substantial than popcorn and actually, it tastes a lot like shrimp. Wendell liked shrimp. Giving Dax a wide smirk, he popped another piece into his mouth.

Dax stood there, watching him with disgust. “I don’t believe it. You…actually like that?” Sticking his tongue out, he made a hacking noise.

The wizard snickered.

“Setana is a young sun snail, chopped up and then dropped into hot fat until they burst.” Dax grinned mischievously, pointing to the stars shining above them. As if on cue, one of the small creatures fell from the ceiling and bounced off the cart. The vendor quickly picked it up and placed it in a wide mouth jar, pushing down more than a dozen glowing snails trying to escape.

Wendell paused mid-chew, looked down at Dax, then shrugged. “Whatever,” he mumbled and continued chewing. “It’s not bad at all.” Turning to the vendor, “Thank you, very much, sir. It’s very good.”

The vendor smiled and nodded gratefully. “Thank you.” He waved the coin between his fingers at Dax, “And thank you, sir!”

Chuck shook his head from side to side, laughing. “There are many street foods I love, but escargot was never my thing. Upsets my delicate constitution.” He glanced around him, then leaned closer to Wendell and whispered, “…and truthfully, it makes my poop glow.”

Wendell cringed, revolted.

Dax snorted. “I got somthin’ else I wantcha to try, then,” and he dove right into the crowd.

For being so short and seemingly ignored, it was amazing how fast the evolu could maneuver through a dense crowd. “I guess we’re following him?” Wendell asked.

Chuck smiled reassuringly, “Let’s humor him. Just this once.”

Wherever they walked, Wendell would eventually be shuffled aside so people could greet and talk with Chuck. The wizard seemed to be on friendly terms with everyone. What made it even more interesting was that Chuck not only remembered everyone’s name, he asked about family, mutual friends, illnesses they had gotten over or troubles they’d navigated.

The old man truly cared about those he interacted with.

…and so did Dax.

Where the guardian snapped and was constantly critical and judgmental with Wendell, Dax smiled at and laughed with most of the people he talked with in the Market. He even bought several dozen sugar treats and handed them out to the street urchins, while Chuck stood back and beamed with pride.

“He’s really not a bad fellow, you know. I’ve known the boy for more than 600 years and I wouldn’t change a thing about him.”

Wendell shrugged, “Not sure I can endure that long to find out.”

The wizard chuckled, “Oh it won’t take long. You might not see it in him yet, but he likes you already.”

“Likes me?” Wendell snorted, “Did you slip somewhere back there and hit your head? Dax can’t stand me!”

“Bah. He’s grumpy and strict with you because he cares. You two have a lot in common. Stranded, without a home,” he grinned, “stuck with me.”

Smiling, “Stuck, huh? Doesn’t sound so bad.”

Popping upright, “Oopah! Excuse me, son—be right back.” and Chuck dashed across the lane to engage a portly vendor, speaking in hushed tones. Wendell noticed twice, the wizard glancing over his shoulder at him, before taking small vials and placing them in his bag.

I wonder what he’s up to?

Stopping at the window of a charm shop, Wendell’s eye was caught by a delicate, gilded silveen blossom on a whisper of golden thread. He was about to ask Chuck about it when an unnatural hush descended around him.

Heart thumping, he held his breath.

Please don’t be a vallen. Please just be a fluffy buddy or a really ugly person everyone’s staring at!

Using the reflections of the glass, he tried to find what was happening. The market around him had become very still, people halting mid-step, cutting off conversations in mid-sentence.

Wendell turned to the street, where it wasn’t hard to discover the answer.

Their movements flowed gracefully, barely rustling their identical green robes. Firelight glinted off the gold embroidered leaves at their necks, wrists and hem, accenting the radiating light from their porcelain complexions and long golden hair.

Mesmerized by the eloquent posture of the strangers, Chuck caught Wendell staring.

“Evolu,” he whispered, returning to Wendell’s side, “though some call them…”

“Elves,” whispered Wendell to himself in awe.

Patrons melted from the elves’ path, heads low and few making direct eye contact.

Though they moved with obvious grace, Wendell was disappointed to see their manners left much to be desired. Not one of them hid their disdain of the humble merchants, who bowed deeply and held out their wares to be considered.

“Grumpy, stuffy things, those pointy-ears,” Chuck grumbled, “Hard to get them to look over the end of their noses or step down from their high societies nowadays.” The wizards forced tone caused Wendell to cringe. “Their progenitors would be ashamed of such conduct.”

Dax, on the other hand, seemed almost hostile towards the slender foreigners. His hands clenched, making fists to tight his knuckles went white, puffing furiously on a cigar.

A short, frumpy looking gentleman in a red robe and turban noticed Wendell through the window and came bursting out of his shop. He waved his hands above his head as he entered the street.

“Ah, Morphiophelius, my opulent friend! My, my, my—what have we done to receive such an honor, I wonder? Here to seek out the best charms for the most measly of purposes, no doubt!”

The little man spoke hastily in the worst Indian accent he’d ever heard and Wendell tried not to laugh. The huge sign overhead said Cassell’s Curious & Cunning Charms.

Chuck smiled, clasping the man’s hand firmly, “Good day to you, Grazia! May I introduce you to my young friend, Wendell.”

Grazia smiled broadly and bowed deeply. “Pleasure, my dear sir. Any friend of the finest sorcerer is always welcome in my humble hovel.” He looked from Wendell to the wizard, “My, my, my, so you’ve finally upgraded from short and green to tall and pink I see. Not a bad choice.” Then he leaned forward and whispered to Wendell, “I don’t even know you and I know I like you better!” and Wendell laughed.

Dax grunted. “Nice.” With a tug on Chucks robes, he added, “While you talk to Mr. Cheap Goods, I’ll be back,” and he wandered off.

“Would you care to purchase a most useful item?” perked up, grinning brightly at Wendell, “I see you noticed my notice charm.”

Wendell looked between the shop keeper and the wizard, “You’re what?”

“Notice charm!” he pointed through the window at the golden necklace. “Place that around the neck of any person, no matter how plain, unsightly, repugnant or deformed she may be and they will be the LIFE of the party. OH yes! EVERYone will fawn over them, like the Queen of Asheeabakaman!!”

Wendell looked at Chuck, again confused, “Who?”

The wizard whispered, “Hottest monarch in history, son,” and then out loud, “Grazia is known for unique items imbued with clever enchantments.”

“Would you like it, my young friend?” Grazia asked, waving his hands at the window display. “A handsome young man must be the hero of a beautiful lady’s heart.”

“Uh, no,” Wendell hesitated.

Grazia winked, “Then perhaps an eye on one NOT so beautiful? Though I have a charm bracelet to fix that as well.”

Wendell tried no to laugh. “No thank you. It sounds wonderful, but…I don’t…have anyone I could give it to,” he took a short breath, “or to impress.”

Grazia shrugged. “Shame. But that is good. I am a businessman, yes, but  would loath to be parted from this particular item. Besides, to sell it would ruin my whole display. You noticed, did you not?”

“We certainly did,” concluded Chuck, “Thank you Grazia. I’ll convince him to come back at another time. Perhaps to look through your ‘unique’ collection?”

The merchant put his hands together and bowed ever so slowly. “I would be honored, my friend. May peace find you when you least expect it.”

The wizard imitated the shop keepers motions, “…and the answers to troubles in the hands of friends.”

Grazia stood in the street, smiling and waving at them until they disappeared from view.

“That is one friendly guy,” said Wendell, still grinning as the accent sounded in his mind.

“He’s also a brilliant enchanter and one of the few honest people in this Market,” added the wizard.

They had only walked a short distance before Dax was back.

“Here,” he said as he flopped up to them with three small sticks. Each had smooth, round chunks stuck on the end, a thick purplish glaze clung to the mystery treat as well as the skewers.

“Try it,” he grunted, shoving one up into Wendell’s face. Dax held a second out to Chuck, but the wizard politely declined.

Suspicious, Wendell had to ask, even though he was sure he wouldn’t get a satisfactory answer. “What is it?” Wendell sniffed. It smelled like BBQ ribs. Sticking out his tongue, he licked the sauce. It tasted a lot like BBQ.

Dax’s face was too occupied to give an answer, chomping away with a grin on his face.

Closing his eyes, Wendell quickly bit all three chunks off the stick.

…and instantly regretted it.

Like a sausage, the casing was a bit tough. Wendell felt like a spectacle trying to rupture each piece. The inside was firm, juicy and sweet at first. Gross. Tastes like barbecued liver. Not one of Wendell’s favorites. He just couldn’t get past the congealed texture. Then it began to burn. Not hot burn, but like a hundred habaneros shoved down his throat and up his nose kind of burn.

Ahhh! AHHH! And he ate all those like they were nothing! Whimpering and with eyes watering, Wendell turned his head away. The burn was fierce and persistent. He wanted to get himself under control before…

“Whaddya think?” asked Dax, his tone smug.

Fuming, Wendell started to cough and Dax rolled his eyes.

“Never could get used to the thought of eating rotisserie bat-gut, myself,” said Chuck. “Oh, don’t worry,” the wizard reassured, “they stuff it with peppers and spices to kill the parasites.”

Wendell gagged and spat into the gravel on the side of the road. “Parasites?!? That was revolting!”

“Yes, well, it’s not for everyone,” said Chuck, “but it is popular here. Let’s get moving. The clothing shop is just down this road.”

Wendell wiped his mouth with his hand. It left an oily coating on his tongue and the burning lingered in his sinuses. “You’re an evil little creature.” He scowled down at Dax, who just laughed, pleased with himself. “Go ahead and laugh, buddy. It won’t happen again.” But his anger just spurred more laughter.

“Whatever,” snorted Dax as he walked away.

Wendell tried to laugh, to be a good sport…but there was a particular thought gnawing at his gut. Chuck is wrong. Dax doesn’t want to like me, that’s obvious. All he wants to do is taunt me and tease me or boss me around at every turn! Wendell wasn’t sure what to do about that and he had no clue how long this arrangement was going to last. Thing was, he could rebel or fight back—but what if Dax left him here? What if he betrayed Wendell and leaked his presence to an enemy. Someone like Thulle? Does it really matter if he likes me or not? He’s obviously honoring the Iskari High Council’s decisions to some degree. I should be grateful for that. He glared after his ugly green babysitter and made a resolve to let it roll off his back, just like Evan would tell him to when they were in school. Dax is just another bully, that’s all. You can do this, Wendell. No matter what happens, you can last longer than he can. Sooner or later, Dax will have to confront you and when he does…when we know all we need to survive here, we can let him have it.

Immersing themselves deeper into the Market, it wasn’t long before Wendell found it too dark to be cheerful. He passed dozens of small campfires scattered between the low, squat buildings that looked as weary and dirty as the people hiding in their shadows. The wood and stone shops felt crowded, each looking as if it had been wedged into place. It was here that Wendell could see the people sitting huddled along the pathways and alleys, completely ignored. Cold and wary eyes stared out from black-stained faces, watching each step he took.

“Do they live there?” Wendell asked stiffly. The sunken faces and outstretched hands called to him, but Chuck held him back.

“Don’t be fooled, son,” warned the wizard, “some of those Gypsies are the eyes and ears of the Sentry. They’re paid quite well to play their part. Don’t worry, the Gypsies take good care of their own.”

“But why would…”

“There’s nothing in this place they don’t know about,” Dax shot in. He took his cigar butt and flicked it into a small group of beggars, who scrambled to snatch it up as soon as it hit the ground. “You can’t hide down here, no mater how dark the shadows are, kid. Justice is a biiiig deal to these folks. Doesn’t matter what you’ve done up top, they’ll forgive you—but put your toe over the line down here and you’ll lose your whole foot.”

Wendell gulped loudly and moved so as to put the wizard between him and the Gypsy vagabonds. “Seems…a bit extreme, doesn’t it?”

Dax snorted, then pulled out another cigar from his waistband and lit it up. “Depends on who ya ask, I guess. Considering this is one of the safest places on the planet, I don’t think you’ll find too many that complain.”

Though he walked on, Wendell couldn’t help feeling an urge to go back and do…something. It was hard to believe that scenes of such destitution and hardship were an act. He looked over his shoulder just in time to see several pairs of eyes avert themselves.

The tap, tap, tap of the wizards staff rung out with each step across the cobblestones underfoot. “I was here when they laid the first stone,” he glanced at Wendell with raised eyebrows. He grinned. There was a particular spring in his step. “My port key was one of the first charmed and given to me by Iyl-Tandril himself. That’s the leader of the Gypsies. ‘Iyl’ is a form of ‘sir’ in the old tongue, which is only used by leaders. These are good people, this lot, regardless of the reputation the world has given them.”

“Are they not liked?”

“They’re despised and hated,” sneered Dax. “That’s why they’re trapped in here.”

“They’re not trapped, monkey,” corrected Chuck, “they have simply chosen to stay hidden from those who would harm them.”

“Which is everybody.”

The wizard shrugged, “Oh poo. Everyone doesn’t hate the Gypsies.”

“Really?” Dax challenged, “Name five groups of folks who wouldn’t like to take these folks and either lock ‘em up or wipe ‘em out.”

Coming to a halt, the wizard frowned. “Well there’s you and I and the boy here.” Turning, he gave Wendell a stern look. “You don’t want to harm the Gypsies, DO you boy?”

“I don’t want to harm anybody!” he squealed.

Nodding satisfied, “Right then, that’s a no.”

“We don’t count,” Dax snorted.

Chuck puffed up his chest, “You’re wrong.” Holding up his empty hand, he raised each finger in turn, “One. Two. Three—Four—Five. See?”

Dax sighed. “Fine. Four to go.”

“The Iskari would never harm them.”

“Doesn’t count either. They’re cousins. Of course they’re not going to harm the Gypsies!”

Chuck snorted then, “You’ve had siblings want your head on a block!”

“Alright!” Dax snapped, “That’s two.”

“Then there’s Bobby-boy…”

“He puts them in jail and isn’t allowed down here.”

“The Evolu.”

“Now allowed to step foot in their homeland.”

“Kutollum?”

“Blamed for the Red Plague.” Dax smirked, “The humans won’t allow them lands to establish themselves, the Gnomes think them barbaric demons, the giants feared them as bringers of death and the Vallen, Therrin and Tauku kill them on sight. Did I miss anybody?”

Chuck scowled.

“What about the merchants?” Wendell jumped in, “They’re not all Gypsies.”

“Most are from the outside,” replied Chuck, “many with prices on their heads for crimes committed. They find their way down here and start businesses. As those business grows, many live above their shops. Some strays from the outside find a place here, where they can belong, or sometimes just to hide. It’s a safe place, away from a world that rejects them.”

“Or hunts them,” added Dax with a sneer.

“So this is a community of criminals?” Wendell watched two men squabble over a piece of food roasting above a fire.

“Something like that,” continued Chuck, his staff clacking on the stones of the road that they walked, “but you never really know, do you? People like to point fingers at one another, accusing, assigning blame, justifying this and that, when the reality is we don’t know much about one another, do we? We THINK we do, but our views are always tainted with the glasses we wear. Some are colored, some are scratched…and no two are exactly the same. The Gypsies accept anyone willing to adhere to their laws, regardless of their past.”

The three came upon a narrow passage between two closed shops when a deep, fierce roar erupted from the darkness.

“EEEEEP!” Wendell leapt backwards and then stumbled, grabbing his chest in fright. His fingers scratched the burning skin around the gem. I know that sound! He held his breath as his heart pounded furiously and he collapsed to the ground. Vallen!

Dax immediately jumped in front of Wendell, becoming a short, but rather aggressive looking barrier, bearing a full set of teeth. When nothing happened, he slowly tilted his head, listening.

“He cradled it, mole-eyes! Watch his hands!” yelled a voice.

“Call it fairly or I swear I’ll bring the Sentry in on this!!” threatened another. The noise died down at the obvious threat, spoiling the excitement.

A rat ran across Wendell’s foot, squeaking as it dashed down the alley.

Dax shook his head. “Rule number one, kid. Get up.” Patting the waistband of his shorts, he grinned, then pulled out a few coins.“Come on, looks like our luck is about to change for the better!” He turned to sprint into the alleyway.

The hook in Chuck’s staff caught Dax around his nearly non-existent neck and yanked.

“Oh, no you don’t!” the wizard snapped, “No unsavory activities. We have a child with us!”

Wendell frowned. “Hey, I’m not…”

The wizard glared fiercely, nostrils flaring, “Maybe you’ve forgotten the last time you played Bloodsticks?”

Dax looked up sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders. “Kinda,” he muttered, barely audible. There was a short pause, then, “NO.” He jutted out his chin.

Chuck placed a fist on his hip, his expression stern. “Don’t you look at ME like that, young man! I didn’t bet the shorts off my own body, now DID I!?!”

Dax’s expression fell away to a hard scorn of frustration, “Fine.”

“It’s one thing to find you in a garbage bin after a night out on the town,…”

“Fine!”

“…but I will never chase you through these streets with you drunk and naked again, do you hear me!? You do your intoxicated streaking on your OWN time!”

“FINE! FINE! FINE!” Dax shouted. The two stood there, breathing heavily and fuming at one another.

Content the point was made, and giving a final nod of parental satisfaction, Chuck turned to Wendell. “Best not get hooked into gambling, least of all around here. Bad for the pocketbook AND the skin, if you know what I mean.” He nodded in Dax’s direction.

The wizard knelt beside Wendell, “You alright?”

Wendell stared back blankly, “I…think I’m having a heart attack.”

Chuck rapped him on the head with his staff. “Nonsense. Get up.”

Dax glanced back at Wendell disgusted, “Ya boob.”

Yeah, and you’re worried about ME making a fool of myself, Mr. Skin? Wendell was irritated with Dax, but his greater concern at the moment was that his chest was truly hurting. So maybe I’m not really having a heart attack, but something is going wrong. His chest felt like it was in a flaming vice. It was hard to breathe, and Wendell struggled with each inhale, like he was sucking air through a straw. It was difficult not to panic. Whatever it is, Ithari will fix it. Right?

Remembering rule number one and that there was a Vallen nearby, Wendell scrambled to his feet and brushed himself off, trying to act like everything was just fine. He slowly crept into the alley, timidly following after Chuck and Dax.

Garbage was piled high between the building and the ally. It reeked heavily of rot and mold. Ack! Wendell held his sleeve over his mouth. A small group of vallen knelt in a half-circle near the wall and Wendell froze.

There’s…more than one.

A ring of glowing shells lit the ground, which was the only source of light. The haunting glow made the giants even more intimidating. Their massive size, hunched over, protruding canines jutting out from their bottom jaws. The shadows cast by their cheek bones gave them the appearance of the undead—gaping holes where eyes should be. His heart pounded, his knees trembled, and Wendell wanted to run or worse—collapse.

Several giants sniffed the air and looked over, glaring at the newcomers.

Wendell wanted to disappear. He started chanting silently to himself, “Silmuh Ikmon, …Sylmin …Ikaman ….Sullmah …Inackaman” Crap, crap, CRAP! How do you SAY that!?? Breathe Wendell, stay calm, you’re just a regular here, they don’t know you. He forced himself to take a slower breath, trying to ignore the giants.

“Please,” pleaded Wendell, grabbing hold of the wizard’s sleeves with shaky hands. “PLEASE, Chuck,” he whispered desperately. “Don’t make me go in there with those…things.”

Chuck paused and considered the plea. His expression quickly changed. “Alright, we can go,” he smiled. “Perhaps another day,” he suggested, escorting Wendell back into the light of the street, a grumbling Dax close behind.

“What were they doing down there?” Wendell asked, once they were far enough away that he didn’t have to worry about being heard.

“Bloodsticks.” The sound of Chucks staff thumped loudly on the stone, “Most popular game of chance and quite addictive.”

“They play it in alleys?”

“They’ll play it anywhere they can get five unfortunate souls,” the wizard replied, shaking his head in disdain. “The biggest games are played at The Whipped Mule, a gaming house here in the market—but those who want to run their own games, can. Side games like the one back there are usually organized by players barred from the official circles.”

“I could have made some money!” Dax complained.

“Not today, monkey,” rebuked the wizard, “and we’re almost there.”

The two erupted into another argument, oblivious of Wendell, who was still having a difficult time breathing. He fell behind a few steps.

The further they traveled out from the center of the market, the darker the streets became. The ominous buildings seemed to lean and hover overhead, draping over the paths in a weak and sickening way.

A withered hand shot out from the dark, grasping Wendell by the wrist, yanking him clean into the shadows.

It was impossible to pull away. The fingers, cold as steel, held Wendell fast—and he soon found himself staring into the vacant eyes of an old woman. His body shook—the void of her stare piercing his mind and heart. He couldn’t move…and the gripping fear kept him from calling for help.

Her wrinkled lips curled between her gums, a lone tooth protruding through, her skeletal face long and sunken.

“I see you,” she rasped, pointing a bony finger at Wendell’s face. “Evil has rooted itself.” He flinched as the pointed finger moved down to tap his chest. “The deed is done! Mahan is here!” Her broken nails bit into the flesh  of Wendell’s arm.

“You are…” she started to say—then recoiled as if she had been slapped. Blinking rapidly, she searched his eyes and then shouted, “You are not!”

Wendell gasped, his seizing chest burning. “I—I don’t understand,” he stammered, afraid of the woman’s stare, but too terrified to look away. “Who are you? What do you want?” he choked, “I have money, you can have whatever you need, lady, just let go…”

“Darkness rises again,” she hissed, spittle foaming and running over her bottom lip. “Man’s greatest work…for naught! We are vulnerable!” Wendell wanted to run, but his fear held him fast.

Then she looked up, into his eyes…and grinned.

“Weakness in your heart is the enemy of all.”

With the final word, she released her grip and closed her eyes. She slumped over into a boney heap on the ground.

Wendell stumbled backwards and into the hands of someone else yanking him.

Dax snarled, “Are you determined to piss of all the locals?? I told ya…to stay within…” Dax stuttered, “…I told ya…..” his hands forming fists. Even under the green complexion, his face grew red as a beet. Obviously frustrated, he snorted like an angry bull, “Didn’t I SAY don’t be stupid? But no, you don’t listen to me. I try to create rules to keep you safe and to give you an advantage around here, but no, you don’t listen. Instead you go wandering off say who knows WHAT to decrepit old women!” He slid up close to Wendell, waving an index finger op in his face, “Don’t think ya know better, cause ya don’t! I told ya—Rule two,” and he shoved Wendell forward into the wizard. “Your turn!”

Wendell wasn’t even paying attention to his guardian’s tantrum. The woman’s raspy words burned into his mind.  He glanced back as he was hauled away, but he never noticed her move form the spot where she’d fallen.

What does she know? What did she see!? What if she’s right? What if I can’t do this and I’m too weak? What if I just make everything worse for this world?! How will I live with that?

Suddenly, Wendell felt very tired.

It was hard enough to deal with his own expectations. Being grilled by Dax was too much. It took all his strength just to put one foot in front of another.

“Are you alright, son?”

Wendell’s legs wanted to give out. With each step, his insides trembled, but he found himself nodding. He kept his eyes fixed on the cobblestone street as they walked, focusing on the rhythm of his steps, the sway of his hips. All Wendell could think of was…

What if?