Elfric was tending to his hens when the trouble came.

  He thought at first that it was the Council, or those they had sent out to hunt him down. Elfric may escape such an attempt on his life—Tana had always underestimated him—but it would mean that he would have to start over. It had taken so long to identify such a secluded spot. Elfric required privacy, and a location that no adventurer would unintentionally stumble through. Yet he also required a connection to the outside world for purposes of trade, particularly while he was setting up. It was a delicate balance, and repeating this endeavour was not something he wished to do in a hurry.

  Elfric remained crouched, replacing the hay in the chicken house, pretending that he had not heard that nearly silent footstep. It would do well for the enemy to think they had retained the element of surprise, in that Elfric may be able to turn it around on them. He paused in his work to silence the rustling of hay, to listen out for more footsteps. He only heard one set. This was curious; if Tana had found him, she would certainly send more than one to take him down. But if not the Council, then who?

  The old Player stood and turned, but kept his eyes on his hens, as though simply observing his flock. Through his peripheral vision, he scoured the surroundings for signs of an enemy. He saw none, not at first. Yet then he spotted the gentle shimmer of the air, and it reminded him of an old friend.

  Cleo had possessed such a stealth ability in the days before she had perfected true invisibility. It was the echoed veil ability, if Elfric’s memory served—one that made the user’s flesh and clothes change colour to match its surroundings.

  He prepared a spell within, a type of ward-adjacent magicks that would push the enemy away. That would give him some time to plan his next move, though if the one person that the Council had sent after him was Cleo, then he was not sure what chance he stood.

  But then… would Cleo use echoed veil, these days? Did she still have this ability, or had it long since been upgraded? If she was still using this old, flawed, Stealth ability, then why? Was it for his sake? Was she giving him a chance to escape?

  Or was this someone else entirely?

  Elfric understood, then. There had been a flaw in his assumptions. Once he recognised it, the truth of the situation was made clear. There was a lot of Cleo in her son, after all.

  The Player let the Slayer approach, pretending not to have noticed him. He let him get so close that the worldbender put his blade across Elfric’s throat, holding him in place. An attack from that knife would not be enough to kill Player, but Cleo’s son didn’t know that. Far better was it to let him believe he held the upper hand.

  ‘New Stealth ability,’ said the son of Cleo. ‘You like it?’

  ‘A neat trick,’ Elfric answered. ‘Perhaps you will let me go? This blade on my throat… ever so uncomfortable.’

  ‘I need something from you. I can’t let you go until you promise to give it.’

  Elfric smiled. ‘And you think this near-attack would make me more likely—not less—to agree to your demands?’ When the worldbender didn’t say anything, Elfric added, ‘Put the knife away, boy. Then we can talk.’

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  Slowly, the worldbender lowered his knife.

  Elfric turned to face him. ‘You don’t just look like your mother; you have more of her in you than you’d know. This is just the kind of move that she might have pulled, all those years ago. And your Stealth ability…’ The Player trailed off; nothing else needed to be said of that.

  The child of Cleo said nothing, but Elfric could see a steady calculation in those eyes. He had sent for information on the Slayers since their last encounter, and knew more of their triumphs. The son of Cleo was often the architect of these triumphs—it was his brain that concocted their winning strategies. Elfric recognised that too as a trait inherited from Cleo.

  ‘Spit it out, boy. I have work to be getting on with.’ Elfric turned to pick up the last of the old hay, showing his back to his unwelcome guest. If the worldbender wished to strike him, he was welcome to see how that chain of events would unfold.

  ‘They’ve activated the towers,’ the boy said. ‘You know about them?’

  Elfric halted his movement. So this was it, then. It was time. ‘I know about them. I was there when the plans were created, don’t forget.’

  ‘They’re drawing in—’

  But Elfric knew the rest. ‘The magicks of nature. Witchcraft, in other words—the only magick type with the power to punch through the worlds. I think you saw that for yourself, out east, did you not?’

  ‘It’s the sort of witchcraft that nobody should be playing with. It’s the sort that gives that magick type a bad name.’

  Elfric smiled at this. He wasn’t wrong. He’d seen the result for himself, out in the Badlands. That void… that was all that would be left of this world, eating it from the inside out.

  ‘How long do we have?’ the son of Cleo asked. ‘How long until they’ve drawn enough power?’

  ‘Eight days. You have eight days from that moment.’

  The boy finally lowered his knife, realising that it was pointless here. ‘Then we only have six left.’

  Elfric scanned the rest of his small clearing. ‘Is it just you here? Where are your friends?’

  ‘They wouldn’t understand asking a Player for help. They’re think we’re—’ The boy caught himself. ‘They think you’re all bad.’

  ‘Perhaps we are,’ Elfric said. He flicked his fingers, and fire consumed the pile of old hay. ‘Did you think about that? What if you came here and never returned? What would they imagine happened to you?’

  ‘You couldn’t kill me,’ the worldbender said. To look into those rather intense eyes, it appeared he meant it. Elfric didn’t imagine it was true, but if the boy had the rumoured artifact… He did not wish to put it to the test.

  ‘I could. But I won’t. As you pointed out on your last visit: I am your enemy’s enemy. There would be nothing to gain from killing you, and potentially everything to lose.’

  ‘I don’t just want you not to kill me,’ the boy said. ‘I want you to fight alongside me.’

  ‘And here it is: the reason for your visit. Does your recruitment drive go so poorly that I am your only hope?’

  ‘We’re taking all the help we can get. Join us, Elfric. We need you. If you want to survive, if you want to continue living like this’—he gestured to the humble farm—‘then you will fight.’

  ‘I had greater aspirations than these.’

  The worldbender’s cold eyes didn’t so much as flinch. ‘Is that a no?’

  ‘They would hunt me down.’

  Dark eyes bore into the old Player’s soul. ‘No. They would just let the world burn around you.’

  Elfric held the young boy’s gaze, just for a moment, and then smiled once more. ‘I was always going to join you, son of Cleo. I am no fool; I recognise that your success is my only hope. Perhaps we will see each other again, on the Aurician Meadows.’

  The boy nodded, a curt and business-like nod. ‘Will you get there in time?’

  ‘I have a travelling enchantment that I was saving for such an occasion.’

  Another nod. ‘Good. We have six days? Be there in five.’