Mizlock cast his eyes around the room, searching for his twin sister, Betha’nia. She was just too good at hiding, and he was convinced she was using their father’s invisibility cloak. “Oh come on Betha’nia!” Mizlock whined. “I know you’re cheating!”

“No I’m not!” Betha’nia replied in a strangely hollow voice from somewhere in the room.

Mizlock whirled around, nearly tripping over his big feet. He wasn’t yet fourteen, but he was already growing into a strapping lad. “If you’re using Dumos’s invisibility cloak again, then that’s cheating,” he groaned, folding his arms. They always called their father by his sorcerer’s name. Calling him “Father” would imply that they felt some affection for him.

They felt none.

“Do you give up?” Betha’nia asked from her hiding place. She sounded bewilderingly close.

“Yes, I give up!” Mizlock replied, exasperated and bored beyond belief. He watched in surprise as Mugrat appeared in the room. He was the scraggiest cat Mizlock had ever seen, and there were plenty of cats in the Analay’Sai sea town where they lived. Mizlock had not seen the cat for several suns. Mugrat was lucky to be alive after consuming the longevity compound their father had been working on. Dumos had flown into an instant rage when he realised the cat had devoured it. The sorcerer had grabbed a gutting knife so he could open the feline’s belly to retrieve whatever was left of it. But Mugrat had managed to evade their father’s big hands. Despite the fact that all the doors and windows in their lodge were shut, he was unable to find the elusive feline. Later, when Dumos was blind drunk again, he had laughed that the cat would probably live for two hundred anni or more. Mizlock hoped not.

“Did you hear me?” Mizlock shouted. “I said I give up!”

Mizlock watched Mugrat wander over to the large fireplace. No fire had been lit over the summer, but now autumn was drawing in fast, and Dumos would no doubt light one soon. The sorcerer hated the cold, but also hated parting with kingdom coins for a regular supply of firewood. Dumos constantly grumbled that he was working on a heat compound.

Mugrat sat on the grate, staring up at the chimney.

Suddenly a bare foot appeared at the bottom of the chimney, accompanied by a familiar giggle. Mugrat meowed loudly, brushing his arched body against the leg as the foot found the grate. Soon Betha’nia emerged from the fireplace, grinning broadly at her brother, who stared at her in astonishment. “Invisibility cloak, eh?” she teased him. “Cheating, was I?” she said, and stuck her tongue out at him.

“You’ve been hiding up the chimney!” he exclaimed, as if that, too, was cheating.

Betha’nia nodded triumphantly. “There are footholds for the chimney sweep,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “It takes you all the way up the stack and then out, onto the roof. I do it all the time, and Mugrat goes with me. He’s a really good climber.” She smiled at the cat affectionately. Mugrat meowed again, still rubbing against her legs. Betha’nia looked at Mizlock, who was giving her a disapproving stare, and she shrugged her shoulders again.

“But you could fall!” Mizlock said angrily, pointing at the chimney. “If Dumos finds out, you’ll be in big, big trouble.” He was actually more worried about the trouble he would be in. Mizlock was still bruised from his father’s last rage. The Analay’Sai sorcerer seemed to hold him accountable for everything that his exuberant sister did.

Betha’nia stepped towards her brother, her eyes turning to a fiery red, a neat trick she’d learnt from their father’s book of sorcery. She’d be in big trouble for looking at the book, too, but she knew where her father hid the key for the chest where the book was hidden. “And why would he find out?” Betha’nia asked defiantly.

Mizlock did not have chance to answer because the front door of their stone lodge creaked open and they heard their father’s heavy breathing. Mizlock and Betha’nia exchanged a familiar look as they heard the irritating giggle of his latest whore. He would be blind drunk, easily provoked, and the children normally hid out of his way. Also, they could not hear the cries and screams from their father’s bedchamber if they played in the cellar.

“So, where are the little darlings?” the whore called Per’ishea asked loudly.

“I didn’t pay you ten gold pieces so you could see my Topazian brats tonight!” Dumos thundered. There was truth to this because their mother had been from the Topazian Kingdom. Her family had settled in the disputed territories before being abducted by Analay’Sai warriors. Dumos the Sorcerer had taken their mother as his prize, and she had given him twins—Mizlock and Betha’nia. Their mother had later died giving birth to their stillborn sister. That tragedy had already been enough for the heartbroken twins to endure, but they had to contend with their loveless, selfish, demanding father. Dumos was nothing to them but a drunken bully who barely tolerated their presence. The children were virtually his prisoners, locked in the cold, stone lodge. More often than not he disappeared for many suns before finally bringing them back some food. Mizlock was convinced that Dumos had every intention of selling him into slavery, and he feared a far worse fate was in store for Betha’nia.

“But you said I could see them!” Per’ishea protested. “Or else Dum-Dum won’t get his additional treats.”

“This way then, Witch!” Dumos relented, pulling her further into the lodge, while casting his eyes eagerly across to his bedchamber.

Per’ishea laughed oddly as Dumos pulled her in. She kept checking that the sorcerer’s gold coins were still in her pocket. She didn’t trust Dumos one bit. Per’ishea had made it clear to Dumos that if he tried any of his renowned trickery, which had duped some of her girls in the lair, she would never again lift her skirts for him. Dumos had promised to behave. He had become infatuated with Per’ishea and her dark, exotic beauty. But she was the madame, no longer profiting from her own body, but rather finding girls to whore for her. Per’ishea had repeatedly denied Dumos during his frequent visits to her lair, until he’d finally offered her ten gold coins for her services. That was as much as a working girl could hope to earn in five anni, and Per’ishea knew that she could not refuse such an offer. Besides, if she performed well for him tonight, she knew she could fleece much more from the bullish sorcerer.

“Children!” Dumos thundered. “Come here to meet my guest!”

Mizlock and Betha’nia froze, holding hands tightly. Normally they would have fled to the cellar by now, but to ignore their father’s order would incur his terrible wrath later.

“Ah! There you are!” Dumos said with a snarl, like they were some despised dogs. He pulled Per’ishea into the room before pushing her towards the children.

“My, my!” Per’ishea exclaimed, studying their faces. “You are handsome indeed!” she declared, stepping forward to rub Mizlock’s head. “And you!” she continued, cupping Betha’nia’s face in her hands, “are a real beauty. You will have a fine future with my girls, you will.” Per’ishea smiled, but it was a smile of malevolent intent.

Mizlock looked horrified. “Get your hands off her!” he shouted, pushing Per’ishea hands away from his sister’s face. “You leave her be! Do you hear me? Leave her be!”

Per’ishea stood back, apparently shocked. Dumos filled with rage, his eyes shining evilly as he balled his hands into fists. Mizlock steeled himself for the blow that he knew was coming.

“Well I never!” Per’ishea exclaimed in outrage, as if no one had ever spoken to her like that before. In truth, no child ever had.

“Run Mizzy, run!” Betha’nia told her brother, pushing him away, urging him to run, to flee, to hide. But she knew Mizlock was useless at hiding, and their father always found him to deliver another beating.

Mizlock shook his head, holding his ground as his father bore down on him with a raised fist. Betha’nia was still shouting at Mizlock to run as Dumos great fist hit him in the side of the head. Mizlock dropped like a stone while Betha’nia screamed. Per’ishea grabbed her, laughing, holding her tightly in her arms.

Mizlock felt himself spiralling into unconsciousness, but suddenly there was a blinding white flash in his head. He somehow knew that he was seeing a vision of the future. He watched as Analay’Sai warriors broke down the front door of their lodge and roughly picked the drunken Dumos from off the floor. The vision changed to the council of principals standing in judgment of their father. “Guilty of treason!” the principals declared. “The punishment his death!” The vision changed again, and Mizlock now saw the hangman place the noose over his father’s neck. Dumos was weeping pitifully, pleading for his life. But no one listened—the crowds only jeered at the condemned sorcerer. The floor gave way under Dumos feet and his neck snapped instantly. Dumos the Sorcerer was dead. The vision faded . . .

Mizlock stirred back to consciousness and saw his father standing over him, wide-eyed with rage. Dumos was tall, a trait that Mizlock had inherited. Dumos’s father had been one of the tall people, something Dumos’s working mother had been ashamed of—she’d abandoned the baby outside the Sorcerer’s Academy. As Mizlock stared at his father now, through his hate, his fear, and his anger, he pitied Dumos for not striving to be a better man.

“Do not look at me in judgment!” Dumos raged, as if reading Mizlock’s mind. He picked up his son by the scruff of the neck and effortlessly threw him across the room. Betha’nia screamed in Per’ishea’s arms as Mizlock rolled across the blood-red rug before striking the edge of the fireplace with his head.

“Get off me, Witch!” Betha’nia screamed, stomping on Per’ishea’s foot, and then biting her wrist.

Per’ishea screamed in pain as Betha’nia ran over to her brother. “That little bitch!” Per’ishea yelled murderously. “Look! She’s drawn blood, so she has!” She thrust her arm at Dumos while looking at him accusingly. Her toe also throbbed painfully.

“I’m sorry!” Dumos wailed like a boy. “They miss their mother,” he cried pitiably, wanting to strangle the living daylights out of both of his cursed children.

“Don’t give me that!” She waggled her finger at Dumos as she tried to put weight on her throbbing toe. “You can keep your gold, and I don’t want to see you anywhere near my girls again!”

Dumos gasped at her dumbfounded. “Now let’s not be rash!” he said. “Here, let me pay for your troubles.” He fumbled in his pockets until he had a handful of silver coins. Dumos held out his hands towards her with the coins, a pitiable look on his face. He wanted her so badly that he would probably give her every last penny he had. And he would give her Betha’nia when she came of age, expecting nothing in return—well, except for services in kind.

“You already paid for your troubles!” Per’ishea screeched at him, her long black locks falling over her angry face. “This gold is compensation, it is!” she declared, patting the gold coins in her pocket. “For my injuries, it is!”

Dumos’s face turned murderous, and he dropped the handful of silver coins on the table. He looked at Per’ishea, who stared back at him defiantly. He glanced at Betha’nia, who was fussing over Mizlock. “You will return my gold to me, Woman,” his voice boomed as his hands burst into balls of orange flames and his eyes changed to a fiery red.

Per’ishea screamed and emptied the gold coins from her pocket without further argument. Her trembling hands dropped the coins, and they rolled across the floor in several directions.

Dumos laughed, and the balls of flames on his hands became bigger and fiercer. Per’ishea turned and ran for the door, the pain in her toe forgotten. Dumos considered locking her in the lodge and taking her to his bedchamber anyway. But he had no desire to bring the law to his door. He was already in enough trouble with Sheriff Braken for other drunken deeds.

As soon as Per’ishea had stepped over the threshold of the lodge’s door to leave, Dumos closed his fiery eyes and the door slammed shut. The huge bolts on the door slammed locked by themselves.

Dumos opened his eyes and they had returned to their normal, cold blue. The orange flames on his hands shrank and vanished. “Betha’nia!” he yelled. “Get me a drink and leave that young pup be!” Dumos moved his tall frame over to his favourite chair and dropped himself into it. But Betha’nia did not move—she just continued helping Mizlock up from the floor, tending to his bleeding temple. “Now, Girl!” he thundered, his eyes burning a murderous red again, which changed back to blue as he calmed himself.

Mizlock looked at Betha’nia and pushed her away, urging her to obey their father. She nodded obediently at her brother and ran to get her father a drink.

Dumos grabbed his daughter firmly around the waist as she placed the frothy ale next to her father. “Tomorrow we will go see Per’ishea to make amends,” he told her slyly as she shrank from his stinking, drunken breath. “And you will pledge yourself to her. I’m sure she will mother you until your coming of age.”

Betha’nia looked horrified and stared at her father, wishing he were dead instead of their mother. She had loved them dearly and protected them from his brutality and selfishness.

“Do you understand me, Girl?” Dumos thundered. “You will pledge yourself to Per’ishea, or your brother will suffer for it.”

Betha’nia nodded, wide-eyed in fear, knowing that she would sooner die than pledge her life to the madame and her lair. “Yes, Father,” she said meekly, to be free of his deathly grip. “I will do as you say.”

“Good girl!” he bellowed, almost genially. “Now get me another ale! Then off to bed, the both of you. We will have a busy day tomorrow. Mizlock and I will also be visiting an acquaintance of mine, to discuss other business.” Dumos belched loudly, expelling the gaseous stench of ale and sour breath.

Beth’nia pulled her head away from the smell. She had little doubt that the acquaintance was Bus’tuk, the slave master. She’d heard her father bidding for the price of Mizlock’s head with the old slave-master before. Beth’nia had little doubt that as soon as Bus’tuk offered the right price—and Mizlock was undeniably getting bigger and stronger—he would be sold into the trade. She would never see her brother again.

Dumos finally released her, and she quickly got another ale for her father. By the time she returned, Dumos was fast asleep and snoring loudly. Betha’nia looked across for her brother, but he was no longer recovering by the fireplace. She saw him on his hands and knees, picking up the gold coins that had scattered across the floor.

Mizlock got up and tucked the coins into his pocket, a spot of dried blood on his temple.

“What are you doing?” Betha’nia whispered, glancing at her father. “Dumos will know you took the money, and he will not take kindly too it.”

“Listen to me!” Mizlock whispered back, grabbing his sister by the arms. “We’re getting out of here! But I need you to do exactly as I ask. Do you understand?”

She nodded. “What do you want me to do?”

He smiled at his sister, knowing that she was both brave and strong. In truth he’d been planning to escape this place for well over an anni. Mizlock knew of his father’s evil plans for both him and his sister, and he had every intention of thwarting them.

Mizlock looked at his sister’s bare feet. “Get your shoes and coat,” he told her softly. “And fill your coat pockets with food and a canteen with fresh water. Oh, and grab those coins while your at it.” He pointed at the silver on the table.

“Are we leaving?” she asked with a mixture of excitement and fear.

Mizlock smiled at his sister reassuringly. “We are,” he replied, looking at the chimney. “Well, if I’m small enough to fit in the chimney and climb up.”

“You will be!” Betha’nia replied, grinning. “I smuggled fat Ja’rid in here once, when you and Dumos were at the port. He squeezed down the chimney just fine.”

Mizlock refrained from laughing. Ja’rid was indeed fat, and that reassured him that he could escape out of the chimneystack. Before he could say another word, Betha’nia was gone to find her shoes and coat. Mizlock hurriedly grabbed his own coat, grabbed the oil lamp from the table, and ducked into the fireplace. He lifted the lamp above his head and cursed. The damper was shut, blocking their escape.

Betha’nia was suddenly next to him in the fireplace. “Here, you will need this,” she said, passing him an iron damper rod. “Give me the lamp.”

Mizlock passed her the lamp while he grabbed the rod and pushed it up the flue against the damper. It was stuck and fear gripped his soul that he wouldn’t be able to move it.

“The catch is to the left!” Betha’nia told him, trying to shine the light from the lamp in that direction. “And be careful! It can suddenly go, and it’s noisy.”

Something suddenly brushed against Mizlock’s leg, and he yelped loudly, fearing it was Dumos grabbing him.

“Shhhh! It’s just Mugrat,” Betha’nia whispered. The cat meowed too loudly by their feet. “Shhhh!” Beth’nia said to the cat, placing a finger across her lips.

Mugrat sat on Betha’nia’s foot and began purring.

They heard Dumos snoring loudly, and they gave each other a relieved look. Mizlock pushed the rod further over to the left as his sister had instructed. Sure enough, the damper moved. With thoughts of escape in his mind, Mizlock pushed too hard and it clanged open loudly.

Betha’nia clasped her hand across her mouth and held her breath, while Mizlock looked mortified. They listened for their father. While they stood there, waiting for the inevitable, Mizlock could only imagine the beating he would get for this. He would of course tell Dumos that he’d made Beth’nia take the food and coins.

But Dumos continued to snore loudly, and Beth’nia let out a slow breath and smiled. Mugrat meanwhile, jumped up the stack and began scaling up the sooty old brick walls as he’d done many times before.

Betha’nia put the lamp down onto the grate and began climbing. Mizlock soon struggled to see her in the darkness. He grabbed a hold and began climbing after her. It seemed like he’d been climbing in the dark for an age, and he still could not see or hear his sister. He felt panic grip his stomach, feeling like he was trapped in a never-ending chasm. He closed his eyes and told himself to calm. When he opened them, they blazed a fiery red that partially illuminated the stack. He looked down and could no longer see the open damper. He looked up to light the way ahead and just saw Betha’nia’s leg disappear over the top of the chimney.

Betha’nia’s head suddenly appeared back over the stack and she looked down at him. “Come on Mizzy!” she urged. “You’re almost here.”

She watched as Mugrat appeared next to her head and meowed loudly, as if urging him on, too. Mizlock climbed, his fears expelled, and he was soon climbing out of the top of the stack onto the gently sloping roof. They watched their footing so they wouldn’t fall off.

Betha’nia beckoned him to follow her, and he wondered just how many times she’d left the lodge this way. Maybe she hadn’t told him because she feared that he would escape and leave her here on her own. He would of course never do such a thing.

Betha’nia showed him the way down from the lodge roof, dropping carefully onto the lower roof before jumping onto the hay against the lodge wall.

They were slightly out of breath as they stood there in the dark, listening for any sign that their father had discovered they had gone. It was silent, apart from Mugrat purring around Mizlock’s legs.

“You know, I really hate that cat,” he said, kicking the scraggy feline away.

“Aw, poor Muggy,” Betha’nia said, rubbing the cat’s head. “Take no notice of Mizzy.” She looked at her brother accusingly.

Mizlock carefully looked around and walked over to an old milking urn. He carefully tipped it against the lodge wall. It was heavy because he’d filled it with rocks. He reached down and felt underneath it, waiting for the inevitable question from his sister.

“What are you doing?” she asked, worried about Mizlock’s plan now that they were outside. She was nervous and frightened of being discovered by either their father or the night watchman. Betha’nia was thinking they could still climb back into the lodge and put everything back before Dumos woke. At that moment Mizlock waved a set of keys in her face. “I was looking for these!” he declared jubilantly. “These keys will unlock the mooring chains on Dumos’s boat.”

“Boat?” Betha’nia asked him, looking aghast.

“Yes, we need a boat,” Mizlock replied. “I’m not swimming across the Berith Sea!”

“We’re going out to sea?” Beth’nia exclaimed in alarm. “But isn’t that dangerous! I mean, it’s full of giant whales with tusks and serpents and other things!” She looked at Mizlock, terrified. “And Cyclops ships have been spotted off the coast, hunting for slaves. Haven’t you heard Dumos talking about it!”

Mizlock waited for her to finish, knowing they were going nowhere until she calmed down. “They are called sea destroyers,” Mizlock said inanely, as if it would help appease her.

 "What?” she said, with no idea of what he was talking about. She was of two minds now—whether to go on or climb back onto the roof.

“The Cyclops ships,” Mizlock said. “They are called sea destroyers.”

Beth’nia raised her hands in disbelief. “Well, that makes me feel so much better. Listen, if that’s your plan, then I think we’re safer back in there.”

Mizlock grabbed her arm firmly. “What, you think when Dumos takes you to see the madame you will be safer? Do you realise what they will do with you?”

Tears welled in Betha’nia’s eyes. “Well of course I do!” she said angrily, fighting the tears.

“Well then,” Mizlock said more gently, letting his sister’s arm go. “And I have no desire to appear on Bus’tuk’s selling list.”

“Promise me one thing, dear brother,” Betha’nia said, clasping Mizlock’s hands. “Promise me that you will never leave me alone. And if I give my last breath before you, promise to keep a watch over my children.”

Mizlock smiled and nodded, thinking that it was an odd thing for his fourteen-year-old sister to say. They were still children themselves, after all. But he had no intention of leaving her, and he would certainly protect any children she bore. “I promise,” he replied, squeezing her hands, “with all my heart and soul.”

“Ok Mizzy,” she replied, wiping a tear from her eye. “That’s good enough for me. Now, get us away from this dreadful place.”

They hurried off into the darkness towards the harbour where Dumos’s boat was moored. Mizlock was relatively skilled at sailing and had no qualms about getting the boat out onto the open sea. He just hoped his navigation skills would get them to his desired destination.

They didn’t see a soul as they hurried, and Mizlock was soon unlocking the mooring chains on Dumos’s boat. She was a decent size, with a good width of sail. Mizlock was sure that with Betha’nia’s help they could sail her quite capably, with the help of fair winds. He knew the Berith Sea was terrifyingly unpredictable, with monster squalls as well as monster serpents lurking in the deep. But the weather at this time of the anni tended to be more favourable, and the trip would take them along the coast anyway. He had no intention of tacking too far out to sea. If necessary he would wait for a fair wind as long as he dared. Besides, the boat had good oars, and they could row for a while—at least until they tired.

With clear skies and the crescent moon overhead, Mizlock shoved the boat off from its mooring. He grinned reassuringly at Betha’nia as he began to pull on the oars into deeper water, passing some schooners that bobbed quietly in the darkness. He spotted one schooner with a solitary lamp lit in the captain’s window at the stern. He lifted the oars and allowed the boat to drift lazily past, smiling because the tide was with them, taking them out to sea. 

Once clear of the harbour, Mizlock raised the sail, with Betha’nia doing her best to help. But it wasn’t long before she was curled up asleep, Mugrat next to her providing welcome warmth. Mizlock steered the boat on, away from the rocks, but keeping the coastline in view. He considered dropping the anchor and furling the sail so he could grab some welcome sleep, but he gulped down two of Dumos’s energy compounds instead.

***

Dumos woke in the dark with a snort. The table lamp had gone out, but his eyes caught a flicker of flame by the fireplace. He pushed himself groggily to his feet and walked to the fireplace and stared curiously at the burning lamp on the grate. He tried to remember if he’d put it there, perhaps intending to light the fire before he fell asleep. But his head hurt and he remembered he drank too much ale at the lair. He could vaguely remember the madame leaving with him, but after that, well, he couldn’t recall a thing.

He reached down and picked up the lamp. The light hurt his eyes, and he looked away. But then he looked back at the grate. Dumos kneeled down, shining the lamp over the soot. Sure enough, there were footprints in the soot, and he had the stark realisation that his children had been in the chimney. He sat on the cold floor and ducked his head under the fireplace, raising the lamp above his head to see. “No!” he bellowed, and it echoed up the flue. He stared at the open damper and then noticed the damper rod that had been left against the wall. “No, no, no!” he shouted again, knowing that the children had escaped up the chimney.

But they couldn’t be far away. Dumos could still catch them. If necessary, once caught, he’d sell them both to Bus’tuk for a cheap price, just to be free of the troublesome pair. He regretted their mother’s death because he would have simply sent them back to the Topazian Kingdom for a ransom. But no one would ransom two half-breeds.

He frantically searched the vicinity and eventually found their tracks. They headed towards the harbour, and he realised they intended to escape by boat. He hurried down to the dock, running as fast as his long legs would take him. He was soon kneeling down at his boat’s empty mooring, staring at the unlocked chains. In a rage, he kicked them into the water.

He stood there for a while, staring out at the ocean, wondering if he should alert the harbour watchman. They would send out a boat if he pleaded a case for his children’s rescue, and maybe they would bring them back alive. But Dumos began to laugh, and the more he thought about their bold escape, the harder he laughed. Eventually, he dried the tears from his eyes, resolved that he would not see his children again. The half-breeds he loathed, from his regrettable union with the Topazian woman that had so enchanted him, had escaped from his clutches and plans for easy profit.

Dumos dug his hands into his pockets, turned on his heels, and headed back to town to meet whatever fate had in store for him. Whatever it was, Dumos knew it wouldn’t be pleasant.

***

Mizlock opened his eyes and screamed. Dumos was standing over him in the stern of the boat, grinning vengefully. The Analay’Sai sorcerer raised his large fist, ready to knock Mizlock senseless. Mizlock screamed again as the fist filled his vision—

“Mizzy!” the voice said, and someone shook Mizlock’s shoulders. “Mizzy! Wake up!”

Mizlock woke and shot bolt upright. He scanned the boat as if expecting someone other than Betha’nia to be there.

“You were screaming,” she said to him concernedly. “You were having a nightmare.”

Mizlock blinked his eyes clear of tears, and he could still see the mental image of Dumos grinning at him on the boat. “Yes,” he replied. “I believe I was.”

Betha’nia passed him the canteen of fresh water they had brought with them. He took two big gulps, but no more. He wasn’t sure how long it would have to last. But it was morning, and they had evaded capture. Bright sunshine filled the sky. Mizlock felt angry with himself for falling asleep. He silently cursed Dumos. The sorcerer couldn’t even get the energy compound right.

“There are other boats,” Betha’nia informed him. “One of them is approaching us, so I thought I’d better wake you.” She smiled apologetically.

Mizlock’s heart was filled with terror. What if it was the harbour watchman in pursuit—or, worse, Dumos in another boat, or one of his vicious acquaintances?

Betha’nia saw the fear on her brother’s face as he scrambled to his feet, nearly knocking his sister over. “Do not fear, brother,” she said hastily. “They are fishermen and have been giving me friendly waves for well over an arn.”

“An arn!” Mizlock sputtered, feeling angry that she hadn’t woken him earlier. He looked out at the boats, and sure enough, they were fishing boats. But they weren’t Analay’Sai fishing vessels, for they were flying the flag of the Topazian Kingdom.

“Are you okay?” Betha’nia asked her brother, concerned that she had done something wrong.

Mizlock’s fears evaporated and he kissed he sister tenderly on the forehead. “I am fine!” he exclaimed excitedly as he watched one of the fishing vessels draw closer. Indeed, one of the crew gave a friendly wave again, now that Mizlock had appeared.

“By the way,” Betha’nia said as she watched the fishing boats casting their nets, “you never said where we were actually going.”

Mizlock turned to his sister and smiled. “We are going to Mother’s home,” he replied with a mixture of emotions. “The Topazian Kingdom.”

Beth’nia nodded, confirming her thoughts. “A new life,” she added, looking at the strange coastline and huge black cliffs that veered up from the ocean like a leviathan.

Mizlock saw her gazing at the mountainous cliffs. “They are the Ani’hu Cliffs,” he said. “Mother said they were once home to the Dwarven race.”

They stood there in silence for a while, until the crew of the fishing vessel threw over a line. Mizlock helped his sister across to the fishing boat, where they were warmly greeted by the crew in their strange language. The boy pulled an unhappy face when Mugrat sprang over to their temporary new home. But the cat was of much delight to the crew, who greeted and fussed over him warmly, feeding him handfuls of fish.

Betha’nia was treated like a princess and was whisked gently below deck to be given fresh clothes, hot food, and the captain’s own cabin. She had refused the cabin, of course, but the skipper had insisted in his odd language that she didn’t understand.

Mizlock remained on deck to ponder. He was looking back at Dumos’s old but reliable boat, dwarfed by the Topazian fishing vessel, contemplating the events that he and Betha’nia had already experienced in their short lives, knowing there was so much more to come.

Mizlock knew that the future would bring hope and despair, success and disappointment, joy and sadness, friends and enemies, life and death.

Nevertheless, it would be a new life of his making.

It took another three suns for the fishing vessels to cast up their nets for the final time, setting sail for the Topazian Kingdom, taking Mizlock to his new home.