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"Dark magic?? The Sceptre has Dark magic in it, and can bring about the end of the universe? And you just carried it in?!" Anar roared.

The Dragon flushed and looked miserable, "I wandered into the wrong dimension by mistake. It happens."

"I died!"

"I know," it wrung its thin, scaly hands wretchedly, "that's why I brought you back to life. I felt awful about it, really I did."

"The Dark magic purged your own," Lucinder said. "That's how it got transferred. The two kinds of magic repel each other. You pulled the Dark magic out of Anar to save him, and in return your magic was pushed away into the closest living vessel."

He nodded.

"Sounds very complicated," Brook chewed noisily, perched on a chair that was too big for her, boots dangling. "How are we going to stop the universe ending, then?"

"I need to get the Sceptre back," the dragon insisted, "only I can return it to its home. Only I can cross dimensional boundaries. The longer it stays here, the more living things it comes into contact with, and the greater the danger."

"Weren't you a treasurer? You could have taken it then," Brook suggested.

"I wasn't the only treasurer, and I was in disguise, not to mention Nisgarant never parts with it. I was waiting for the right time."

"Ok, but why feel sorry for our General Warlock? Didn't the Sceptre kill lots of others, too?"

The Dragon sat up, proudly, "I am an interdimensional being that roams time and space. I have existed everywhere, and I have seen everything. True, I get muddled sometimes, and this is one of my mistakes that I have to put right, but I can honestly say that in all of the worlds and universes I have visited, Anar is the only friend I have ever made. He is loyal, and kind, and brave."

Anar's ears flicked back and forth, "you've only known me a couple days. Not that I'm arguing."

It shook its long head, "I have known you for lifetimes."

"Mirror worlds?' he asked.

"Ehhhh... not exactly."

"I need the Sceptre to bring back to the stronghold, though," Lucinder complained. "Can you at least wait until I've done my bit before you whisk it off again?"

The Dragon twitched. "I can't do anything until my magic is restored."

"Oh, yeah. How's that coming along?"

"I'm feeling much better, already," it smiled, toothily.

"Anyone else going to have any of this rabbit stew?" Brook offered steaming bowls out onto the table.

The fire embers burned into the night as the group pulled blankets around themselves and lightly dozed, their stomachs full.

Anar let his eyelids fall, heavy, his mind still ticking over with his busy thoughts. The Dragon was so firm in his belief that they were friends, and it was charming, but he couldn't help but wonder what lay ahead in their adventures together for that friendship to be cemented. Anar would never describe himself as brave, not after what had happened back in his hometown. And incurring Nisgarant's wrath was foolish, rather than brave, the more he thought on it.

"Psst! Hey," Luci's voice hissed by his ear.

He opened his eyes as she cosied up close by him on the floor.

"Do you really think Skecher is getting better? The Dragon, you know? I don't trust dragons. All the books I've read back at the Institute say they manipulate people and lie to get their own way."

"Why would he lie about his healing?" he asked sleepily.

"To stop you worrying. He really likes you."

"Mmm. Lucky me."

"Exactly. Dragons do not have friends. We mortals die too soon, we're fleeting. It won't even remember you when you're gone, you know, no matter what it says."

"This is a nice conversation to have with a recently deceased man."

She flushed in the fireside glow. "Sorry. Just, I've got so much riding on this task, and if Skecher isn't getting better, it's all going to go pear-shaped when we get to Nisgarant."

He sighed, deeply, "I'm aware. Now get some sleep. It's good for you. Healthy." Mostly silent, too, he thought. He liked Luci. Liked her a lot, but she was a bit doom and gloom when he was looking on the bright side of his new life.

He shifted, and the woollen blanket slipped, revealing his black, spidery wound. It would never go away. A permanent reminder of what he had survived.

"It looks so evil," Luci whispered, reaching out with slender fingers curiously. "I could heal you..."

Anar's eyes were wide open now as the mage rubbed over the wrinkled skin, feeling the ridges and dimples she saw there. Her face bore a look of concern. Her amulet vibrated against her soft lace vest, ever so slightly. She seemed not to notice.

He swallowed. It was nice to have a lady's touch upon his body. His blood fizzed a tiny amount. Not so sure about his wound being referred to as 'evil'...

"Ooh!" she recoiled and shook her hand. "I got a static shock from you." Her pout implied he'd done it on purpose, but he didn't even know what a static shock was. "well, maybe another time, then." Ending the conversation just as abruptly as she had started it, Luci shuffled on the floor and turned her back to him.

He lay very still, trying to keep his breathing at a steady pace, his mind getting up and sprinting all over again. He closed his eyes, feeling the gradual loss of heat as the fire died down towards the dawn.

Shouts in the darkness woke him immediately, his war days serving as a motivator to be on his feet and ready for action at a moment's notice. Outside there was a commotion. Trouble. He pumped his fist, bringing forth his power ready at his palm, and was striding out into the night from the shelter of the hut in an instant. No matter he was only in his knee-length long johns, these kind people had put them up for the night and the least he could do was try to be of aid.

Brook trotted to his side, her stout stumpy legs pumping.

"Raiders from a nearby village have come for our provisions. The rat cleared them out..." the chief explained, swinging a hefty axe as he led his most able into the fray.

"Nice! Stabby time!" The goblin fighter lowered her pointy green head, daggers forward aiming for hamstrings.

Their attackers were brown and fuzzy, big burly hungry Bearfolk with paw pads as large as Bromor's hooves, four raking claws at each one. Some were already at the larder, pulling out barrels and rolling wheels of cheese. One swipe of their arm, and Tauren were sent sprawling.

Anar only really knew fire as a weapon. Luci didn't have any battle magic knowledge, so he hadn't progressed much further than sending out sparking firebolts. He was almost tempted to grab a nice, weighty sword and get swinging himself, but the furry hides on these pillagers were so dense it was barely a haircut.

He flicked his wrist. A bright blue stream streaked to his mark and caught a bear's attention. It rumbled and swiped at its flank, spinning and stumbling to put out the magical flames. Unfortunately, it sort of succeeded and fire began to lick up the pantry ladder that lead to higher placed shelving stacked with ceramic jars.

"Ah, shit." He shook his hands madly, trying to think about water now instead. It should be simple, shouldn't it, making water instead of fire. All he had to do was concentrate.

Not an easy feat though when you've got lolloping bears around you, one particularly cross that they now have a burnt patch upon their back, and making a beeline for you...

Brook was riding a massively wounded bear around like a stumbling pony. The Tauren chief had got his mighty battleaxe lodged in the spine of a very dead bear and was almost standing on the carcass in his desperate attempt to dislodge his prized weapon.

How could you concentrate in battle?! This was impossible! He needed water, and fast, because fire was spreading. Fire that he had started with all best intentions.

He almost called out for Luci. The shout caught shamefully in his throat.

He had an angry ursine to deal with first. He held out his fists and closed his eyes. His legs were shaking from the weight of the creature thumping the ground as it bounded up to him. His long, grey ears were ringing from the deep bellow it uttered.

Damp mist landed on his face. He'd got water, then...

"General, not to be rude, but why are you giving it a bath?" Brook's voice broke the bedlam.

He opened his grey eyes. The gobliness was mid strike, bringing her dagger tip up in a graceful arc to the bear's jugular. It gurgled and flopped down at his bare feet.

"I wanted to put out the fire," he wavered.

"That would be a good idea, sir, yes!"

As the remaining would-be thieves made a retreat, back out of the village gates and into the surrounding woodland, Anar directed his aim to the blaze in the larder. His heart hammered. Maybe Luci was right, about his magic being wild and dangerous? This whole community lived in wooden structures, and one errant flame had done so much damage. Maybe using fire as his go-to was a bad idea. What else was there? Clearly he needed something. Wind whipped at his cheeks. He followed the breeze with his mind, absently, feeling as though a part of himself had detached and was exploring out of his body.

"What did you do?"

He was sharply brought back into the moment. It was such a condescending tone. Luci could see only too well what he'd done. Why did she have to be so beautiful, yet so infuriating?

"I've got it under control," he gruffed in retort. Despite himself, he snuck a peek at her, clad only in underwear with a blanket draped round her shoulders. Her breath steamed in the early morning chill, rising from her round snout.

"You do look funny in those cut-off trousers," she grinned. "they're very retro."

"I do believe you're insulting me."

"No! Clamdiggers are very in." She chortled, shiny locks bouncing. "But seriously, what did you do? Start a fire and have to put it out? There's water everywhere, I don't think much of your aim. Where's your horse?"

"Bromor is out in the fields with the other beasts, the donkeys and such. He's probably still snoring. And my aim was perfect, I'd just got the wrong target is all."

She was still smiling smugly, "I see. This is why we don't rely solely upon magick in our society, you create more problems than if you solved issues with other methods."

"I'm magical!" he huffed, "what's the point of being magical if you don't use it?'

"All I'm saying, is there's a time and a place."

"If I knew how to do more than just flinging fire around, I would be more useful! I could... I could have maybe tried to link up with a mirror world somehow?"

"Skecher has made tea. Again. Come on, you'll freeze to death. Unless you light yourself on fire this time."

He was still grumbling to himself even while cradling a hot cup of amber liquid. Magic could do anything! He simply needed the right resource, at the right time. Now he wasn't under pressure he could think of other ways he could have helped. No use to him now, naturally. He could have made nets, like he'd seen Luci do with the gnolls, and captured the Bearfolk to later release with a warning. He could have struck them with lightning. He could have blocked their advance with a forcefield.

"What's up with the General?" Brook asked, nudging the lady mage beside her.

"He doesn't like being told that magic doesn't solve everything. Especially his favourite sort of magic."

"The fireballs?"

Luci nodded. "he's more a danger to us than anyone else while he's fixated on those."

The gobliness took a healthy swig, "so teach him something else."

Lucinder frowned, "but that's the problem, as hazardous as they are, the fireballs are still the safest battle magic he can use..."

"Ah."

It was true. Fire was a hazard, a fast-spreading danger, yet simple to combat. Even Anar had been able to put it out without instruction, thank goodness. Perhaps all he needed was more control of the fire? To command it to burn only what he told it to? Ah, wild magic didn't like being restricted like that, though, did it? Lucinder rubbed her tired eyes. What had she been dropped into? The General had the sort of power every would-be mage dribbled over, if he really stopped to connect himself to reality, he could change it if he so desired. Maybe being obsessed with fireballs wasn't so bad. It was only a matter of time before her naïve student reached out with his mind and began to comprehend what he could truly do. It was Lucinder's wish that she could delay this inevitability for as long as possible. For the sake of the world, and every living thing on it.

The morning raid had caused a bit of a stir. There was hammering ringing out as repairs to the burnt timbers were made, and foodstuffs were returned to their safe storage locations. The chief Tauren had either been unaware that one of their guests had caused more damage than the Bearfolk, or he was very graciously not mentioning it. He was at the northern gate to see them off.

"Will you be needing any provisions for your journey?" his tone suggested he was hoping for a negative answer.

"We're all set, thanks. We do appreciate the warm hut to rest in," Brook said, all too aware that the travelling party were still tired, but being polite regardless.

"If there's anything we can do for you before you leave..."

"Actually, there is."

Heads turned to General Warlock who was sat upon Bromor's broad back, all equally surprised at his words.

"I saw a particularly fine piece of blue silk in one of the workhuts, and I'd like to trade for it."

The chief's round brown eyes grew larger as General Warlock pulled out a sizable chunk of gold from his velvet bag hung from the steed's neckstrap.

"Of course. One moment..." he nodded, taking it from the aardvark's grey palm and offered it to a very shocked tauress in charge of the fabric works. There were lots of bowing and expressions of gratitude in return.

"You got a whole nugget of gold from your bag? That's amazing," there was a tone to Luci's voice. The magic of his bag must be growing in power.

"I did. And now I have done a little good for a small community, and got some nice silk for a fancy cape in return."

Lucinder's jaw fell, "a cape? Like a superhero?"

Anar's brow furrowed. "What?"

"Oh, never mind. Come on, I've got work to do with your fire magic."

"I thought fire magic was bad?"

"I mean, it is, but it's better than the alternatives at this point..."

The suns warmth boosted their flagging selves as they moved ever onwards towards the rat's army.