The Enchanter's Journal

[Breaker]

Solo. Takes place after the events of Chasing Shadows.

~~~

Prologue

Once it became obvious that a vacation in conflicted Salvar would never be restful, I figured I may as well make some gold and started looking for a job. Almost immediately Lord Volipril offered me a position as a part time agent and full time consultant. The job included room and board as well as a decent salary, so I accepted. Mostly Volipril wanted my advice on security matters, and sent me off on the occasional errand too complex for the average guard. Living within the manor’s walls actually provided the vacation I was looking for—no more paying the rent by joining fight clubs or worrying about bar brawls and back-alley muggers.

I was just starting to get used to living the good life when an unusual incident disrupted my daily workout. It set in motion a chain of events that changed my life.

~~~

"Ahh... another beautiful day in Salvar."

The still air chilled me to the bone.

Motion alone kept the blood from freezing in my veins. I spun like a whirlwind across the permafrost soil, repeating the same kick sequence over and over.

"Inside roundhouse, crescent, spinback roundhouse, crescent, spinback sidekick, stutter step, repeat." My head snapped back and forth, spotting on a single point of the horizon to keep me from falling over. Droplets of sweat jumped from my hair and naked torso, often freezing before they hit the ground. My body worked like a furnace, steamy breath the exhaust which issued from my mouth. To put up with the cold I remained locked in pranic meditation, my senses enhanced to superhuman levels. Each time I stepped the crackle of frost erupted like breaking glass. The cold air felt like fire in my nostrils, like hammering ice picks on my skin. I pushed all the pain aside, focusing on the pleasure of intense exercise. A foreign sound reached my ears. I stopped moving and rotated on the spot, scanning my surroundings.

I stood in the courtyard of Lord Volipril's Manor. His magnificent house made a sprawling centrepiece within the twenty foot stone wall which surrounded it. Small sheds and outbuildings dotted the massive courtyard, most serving as storage for various items not glamorous enough to be kept in the main house. A wooden walkway ran from the manor's doors to the secure iron gates. I knew from experience that two guards stood on the other side of that gate, carefully filtering the entrants to the manor grounds. My keen eyes swept all this, finally lighting on the noise which had caught the attention of my sensitive ears.

A heartbeat. Strong, and rapidly accelerating. A petite serving woman stood just outside a shed, wide blue eyes watching me with a sultry interest I recognized well. Only her face was visible from within the heavy fur cloak she wore, a single strand of blond hair trailing across her rosy cheek. She shifted the wicker basket in her arms to one hip, freeing a delicate pink hand to brush the hair back up into her hood. She paused like that for a moment, then lifted the hand and waved to me, a coy fluttering of fingers. Two thoughts crossed my mind.

"I'd like to see what she looks like without that cloak... or anything else on." Then: "The sweat on the back of my neck is freezing." If I wanted to bed the blond, I needed to work some word magic quickly, before I caught pneumonia, which would reduce my chances to the odds of her being the one to nurse me back to health. I didn't like those odds much.

I opened my mouth, and shattering glass filled the air.

I spun around in time to see a man hit the ground and start running. My eyes jumped to the broken window he had come through just as one of the guards I knew by name poked his head out. Tom was normally a taciturn type, but his eyes bulged in surprise and fear; the broken window led to the mansion's third story. Tom cried out, his voice hoarse in the frigid air.

"Josh! That man stole Volipril's Crest! Stop him!"

[Breaker]

The fleeing figure reached the wall at the same time I took off after him. I felt a wave of surprise as he began to scale the wall like a spider, pulling himself up hand over hand. Although the unyielding stone bore no markings, his hands seemed to cling to its flat surface. As I pounded across the frozen turf I spotted a small cloth bag dangling from his belt. Volipril's crest.

"I've got to reach the top of that wall before him," I realized. Pushing off from the ground, I leaped twice my own height, landing on the roof of a shack which stood close to the wall. Without pausing I leaped again, grabbing the top of the wall just as the thief finished his climb. As one, we pulled ourselves onto the top of the narrow parapet. I stood facing him, ten feet away, the black mask he wore staring blankly in return.

"Give me the Crest," I commanded. My voice held as much emotion as the stone wall. The thief had to know he was beaten. My balance far outclassed his; I stood steady a rock compared to his nervous wobbling. The cold pricked the edge of the void, threatening to freeze my body and break my focus, but I could not let the crest be stolen. Volipril used it to seal all of his personal letters, as well as declarations and most importantly, letters of right. With that seal, any decent forger could con every banker in Aihnrekvolok.

"Take it," the muffled voice laughed at me, and tossed the cloth bag in a high, looping arc. My right hand shot out and caught the sack just as the thief spread his arms and jumped.

How the man had managed to fall from a third story window without dying quickly became apparent. With his arms outstretched like a turkey vulture he soared gently but swiftly to the ground. As I watched his descent my hands tore open the cloth bag, finding nothing but a good sized rock within. By that time, the thief had begun sprinting down the road.

"Son of a bitch, he had a decoy all planned out. Probably has the crest in his pocket."

I threw the rock at him. It struck him between the shoulder blades and he fell with a cry of surprise. Gritting my teeth, I jumped off the wall and plummeted, the permafrost greeting me like poured concrete. The dense muscles in my legs absorbed the shock, but a wave of pain still ran through me. "When I catch that bastard, he's gonna’ pay." I sprinted after him.

It did not take me long to catch up. Although the thief ran well, he also wore a heavy coat and cloak which slowed him considerably. As soon as I had him in range I dove forwards, striking him at the knees like a football corner back. We hit the ground together, the sharp frozen earth slicing my back as I rolled. The thief made it to his feet before I grabbed his cloak, tearing it forcibly off his back. He surrendered the article without a backward glance and scaled a nearby warehouse. I rifled through the cloak and quickly found Volipril's crest, tucked safely into an inner pocket. The thief disappeared onto the roof of the building, and I realized I no longer had the energy to follow him. The fall from the wall top and the cold air had sapped me. I could feel blood freezing on my back as I fastened the captured cloak around my shoulders and began the trek back to Volipril's manor.

[Breaker]

"Mmmh... that's better than sex."

Steam rolled off the hot rocks in waves as I poured another ladle of icy water. I had the small sauna to myself, stretched out naked on the pine bench. Sweat beaded on my body, producing a near therapeutic feeling. My muscles began to loosen in the heat, tight as they had become from the day's subzero workout and wall top chase. My back, although covered in small scratches, felt good as new from the dressings Volipril's physician had administered. I closed my eyes and leaned back, allowing my mind to wander.

Volipril's guards had been frantic with worry and all but kissed my boots when I returned the crest safely. Volipril himself would not be returning to the manor until the next day, having been gone for the best week on a meeting of the State. From what I heard, the civil war was heating up, the Church redoubling their efforts. I didn't know any details though; most of what I heard was in Salvic.

The door squeaked open, and cold air rushed in producing a blanket of fog. I sat up on the bench, putting my back against the wall and draping one hand casually over the edge of my seat. On the underside of the bench I had stuck my bayonet into the thick timber, a favourable weapon close to hand. Slowly, a figure appeared in the fog, moving on light feet to where I could see her. The door squeaked shut.

The blond serving woman became visible. Without the thick hooded cloak she showed exquisite curves, her body covered now only by a thin linen towel. As the heat of the room caused sweat to seep from her skin, the white towel turned translucent. I smiled, making no move to cover myself. She had already seen me. Besides, I knew why she had come. She moved closer and sat on the bench only inches away.

"My name is Giselle." The thick Salvic accent sounded seductive as the words slipped from her sumptuous lips. She leaned forward, pressing her body against mine as my long arms enveloped her. I could feel myself growing harder, lusting for her. I like a girl who knows what she wants. I ran a hand through her dampened hair, relishing the feel of my fingers flowing through the soft tendrils. My other hand gripped the back of her towel and pressed her closer to me. Her body weight enthralled me, her heat stronger than the blazing rocks.

"You speak common very well," I uttered, my voice low in the heavy steam. Her small white teeth nipped the side of my neck.
"I know," she pouted, "I spend hours each day learning. Now, I am bored of speaking common." With one swift movement I tore the towel off, the soft ripping mirrored by her gasp of surprise. I tossed the linen away and placed my rough hand delicately on her cheek. Our lips met, but only for an instant. I tilted her face up until her bright blue eyes looked into my hazel ones.

"Give me an hour," I crooned, "and you'll feel no need to speak. Give me all night and I'll have you speaking in tongues."

[Breaker]

The morning cold woke me as it seeped through the manor's stone walls. I blinked a few times to clear my eyes, examining my surroundings. Giselle's room left a lot to be desired-- a rather thin bed took up most of the floor space, and everything she owned seemed to be broken in one way or another.

"Shit... I hope not too much of that happened last night."

The blond lay curled against me, smiling as she slept. I twirled a finger through her hair, tugging gently until her eyes opened. She leaned forward, kissing my neck before rolling over to press her back up against me. I chuckled as she took my arms in her hands, crossing them over her chest. I cupped both full breasts with one hand, feeling her draw in a sudden breath. She had noticed the shape of her apartment.

"I see they do not call you the Breaker for nothing."
"Did I tell her I go by that name? How the hell did she find out?"
"I think you're as much to blame as I am," I countered, tugging her hair again. She giggled and rose from the warmth of the bed wearing nothing but her skin. I leaned back, admiring the way she stretched her leg out to slide a stocking on. Somehow, I had had the presence of mind to bring my clothes with me the night before, and joined her in the task of dressing. She pulled on layer after layer, preparing herself for the cold corridors of the mansion. I stuck with regular weight clothing, preferring to utilize the pranic void to ignore the cold thus keeping my mobility at a hundred percent. Finally finished with her clothing, Giselle stretched up on her toes to kiss me on the cheek.

"I must get to work. Will you be here again tonight?" Her wide blue eyes pulled me like magnets.
"I can't say for sure. I'm meeting with Volipril today; he may send me out on an assignment." I said, hoping to the contrary. Circumstances always seemed to pull me away from the women I meet. I wondered if I should tell Giselle that the nickname "Breaker" originally derived from a drow princess calling me "Heart Breaker". Probably not.

She pouted, an act which made her lips absolutely kissable. I complied quickly, her protesting half-heartedly about needing to work. Eventually we made it to the hallway and Giselle locked her door before kissing me one last time and disappearing around a corner. I leaned against the wall, trying to decide how best to occupy my time, when Tom came striding down the hall.

"Josh! I thought I'd find you here," I cocked an eyebrow, but said nothing in response to the odd statement. Tom drew level with me in the corridor and stopped, rubbing his throat. Some people in Salvar seem to have a permanent throat virus because of the cold weather. When he spoke, Tom sounded like a well educated pirate.

"Lord Volipril must see you immediately. He says it's imperative that yo--"
"Yeah I get it, I need to go talk to him right away. Do me a favour Tom. Say 'Aarr'."
"Why would I do that?"'
"Never mind, spoilsport."

I dropped by the kitchens on my way to Volipril's chambers and picked up a loaf of bread, polishing it off as I arrived in the Lord's antechamber. His butler ushered me in moments later, his face carrying the same sense of urgency Tom's had. "These people all take Volipril so seriously," I thought, "No wonder the guy is always stressed out."

The Lord's study, as he called it, was actually the size of a small gymnasium. Bookshelves lined the walls and desks dotted the floor, arranged in neat rows. Placed on the top floor of the building, it had many skylights and windows which blinding sunlight spilled through. Frost decorated the window panes but I could still see through them, noticing the peak of a mountain just visible in the distance. I half-sat on a desk, enjoying the view. Volipril emerged from behind a pile of maps and documents, resplendent in his silk garments. I wondered how many layers he had to wear to stay warm using only the expensive, impractical material. The Lord clearly had matters on his mind more important than clothing, however, and I gave him my full attention.

"Listen carefully Josh... we need to hurry. As you know the manor was robbed yesterday--"
"I know. Don't worry though Volipril, I got your crest back safe and sound."
The rich man massaged his temples, a sign of great stress, before continuing.
"Unfortunately, the crest is much less important than what the thief got away with." Suddenly I felt bad for not capturing the thief. Although I had certainly put out a valiant effort, looking back it seemed ludicrous that I had not apprehended him. I shrugged in apology, and gestured for the Lord to continue.

"He took a key from a hiding place no one is supposed to know about. This key unlocks the door to an abandoned church which contains terrible, terrible weapons. If the thief succeeds in entering the church... I fear the civil war could be over in a matter of days."

[Breaker]

The idea of such an immense magical power shocked me. From what little I had heard, the civil war barely moved in either direction; the two sides were evenly matched. Immediately I became more attentive, leaning forward to listen as Volipril continued.

"Years ago, when all this trouble was nothing but smoke and whispers, one of the church's most powerful clerics defected to our side. He was an enchanter then, a man of great talent who detailed all his enchantments into a journal. He is a pacifist by nature, and when he learned what his superiors intended to do with his magic he came to me. Together we hid the journal in the church he used to practice in and sealed it with his magic. He enchanted a single key as the only object capable of gaining entrance to the building. That is the key that was stolen yesterday."

Volipril leaned back in his chair, looking exhausted. I mulled over the information for awhile, picking up on the bits of information the Lord had left out.

"Where is the cleric now?" I asked.
"He no longer practices religion. He lives as a hermit, practicing alchemy on the same mountain as the church. That mountain." The Lord gestured out the window at the distant snow covered peak. I stared at him momentarily dumbfounded, then found my voice and spoke.

"You do realize it will take me at least two days to get there, right? Christ, the thief has a massive head start already. There's no way I can catch him."

Volipril waved a dismissing hand. He had anticipated my doubts.

"I have an enchanted armoire which will transport you directly to the alchemists abode. From there he will give you further instructions, and everything you will need to complete the journey to the church. With any luck you will beat the thief there, but we mustn’t rely on luck. It is entirely possible he will arrive before you, in which case it is imperative you stop him from finding and using the journal."

Dozens of questions swam through my head, but I decided to save them for later. The nameless alchemist would be better suited to answer them. Volipril gestured for me to follow him, and I did so. As always, I was ready to travel on the shortest of notice.

The armoire stood in Volipril's personal chambers. It looked ordinary, but when I opened the doors a draining blackness seemed to suck the light out of the room.
"Nothing ventured, nothing gained." I quipped to myself, and stepped into the inky darkness.

[Breaker]

The wind whipped my face like a rogue cat-o-ninetails, small shards of grit gouging my skin. I winced, tucking my head and throwing up an arm to protect my eyes. From beneath shielding hands I studied the terrain I had stepped onto. Tough rock and hard, frozen earth dominated the sloped ground, with the occasional patch of snow or ice. Behind me stood an armoire similar to the one in Volipril's chambers, its fancy engraved wood weather worn and chipped.

"What the hell is this?"

Call me crazy, but I expected the enchanted armoire to transport me into the alchemist's house. I scanned the area, my eyes lighting on a small shack a couple hundred yards away. I stepped towards it, and a deafening roar filled my ears.

I spun on the spot, fear coursing through my body. The creature was massive. It made me think of a polar bear and timber wolf at the same time. A thick layer of muscle and shaggy fur covered its body, a row of razor sharp teeth protruding from its open mouth. I had a second of warning before the thing launched itself at me, clawed paws reaching, jaws snapping, five hundred pounds of horribly mean and dangerous muscle.

I threw myself sideways, a frantic motion. The beast sailed past, a roar of rage grinding from its throat as its questing claws caught nothing but air. I landed on my shoulder and slid, the unforgiving ground shredding my shirt. I felt a few shallow lacerations appear on my flesh, blood seeping onto the rocks. With an effort I pushed myself to my feet, harshly corralling my fear and pain. I needed every bit of self control to survive this encounter.

The animal turned and lurched forwards again, bounding at me. This time I was prepared and ducked sideways, throwing a right haymaker that clouted the thing just behind the ear. It was the kind of punch I had previously used to break down doors and walls, the kind of punch that would break a heavy bag in half.

The beast blinked, shook its head, and turned to attack again.

"Oh shit... okay, change of plans." This time when the animal leaped for me I leaped as well, straight up in the air. It landed in the space I had just vacated, searching for me, confused. I came down hard on its back, having spun so I could wrap my leg around its neck. My bayonet whispered from its sheath and I brandished it high before bringing it down to stab the beast at the base of its skull. Once, twice! The azure prevaldia pierced solid bone with ease, and the creature wallowed, staggering about before falling to the ground, dead. I climbed off, my legs shaking from the effort of gripping its neck. Wiped my blade on the brown-grey fur and looked to the shack in the distance. Picking up one of the dead animal's legs, I dragged it in that direction.

"I hope the alchemist appreciates this as a gift. At the very least, having a dead animal in the middle of his house will serve as a reminder not to transport allies directly into a mountain wolf's territory, the bastard."

[Breaker]

Five minutes later I found myself seated in the alchemist's small but cozy abode.

He was quite friendly, for a hermit. As soon as I knocked he opened the door and ushered me inside, surprisingly appreciative of the mountain wolf I had brought him. Apparently their bones and hides can be quite useful. I accepted his thanks and apologies readily, my previous irritation quelled by the crackling fire and warm cup of tea he pushed upon me. I sat on the chesterfield and stared into the flames. The room bore little decoration, the walls plain wood except for two portraits over the fire; one of a young man, the other a beautiful young woman. Soon the alchemist joined me, sitting opposite in a large armchair.

He wore thick layers of animal hide clothing, but it all seemed quite refined rather than barbaric. I suspected he had made the garments himself; after all, he would have a lot of time on his hands. He had a squarish face with a bristling moustache that matched his short grey hair. I liked him, for he came off as a simple intelligent man with quiet confidence in his trade. Once we had both settled in he introduced himself.

"My name is Edward "Tinker" Rythadine," he said rather grandly. I wondered if perhaps I was supposed to recognize the name. I tried to nod appreciatively, introducing myself in like form as Josh "Breaker" Cronen. The man chuckled through his moustache, proclaiming in his thick Salvic accent that the name "Breaker" suited me well.

"Any man," he continued "that can finish an arctic mountain wolf single-handed deserves a name like that. I believe in nick-names only when they are well deserved." I got the feeling that this hermit hadn't had a conversation with anyone other than himself in a long time. I forcefully steered us back to the topic at hand, remembering how frantic Volipril had been.

"Ah yes," the alchemist said, his friendly face darkening. "I'll tell you everything you need to know." He took a gulp of tea and then a few deep breaths, and then launched into his story.

"Years ago I was misled by the magnificence of the Ethereal Sway. They painted pictures of everlasting glory in my head, so much that I worked tirelessly for them. I poured all of my work into a journal, which now contains the incantations for many enchantments. Several of these are, I fear, very powerful, and could wreck havoc on this nation." The alchemist took another sip from his cup, seeming to gather his thoughts.

"When I finally came to my senses, Volipril was there to guide me. Together we locked the journal in a church which stands farther up the mountain. I sealed it with a powerful enchantment which can only be unlocked by one key. Volipril took the key, but now I hear it has been stolen." He seemed to be rising to a point of culmination: "Stolen," he continued, "by a man wearing gloves with extraordinary abilities."

I shook my head.

"I saw the man escape; in fact, I chased him. He was using his bare hands to climb walls and somehow he managed almost to fly, but he definitely wasn't wearing gloves. I noticed it in particular because most people do in these parts."

This time the alchemist shook his.

"One of the enchantments on those gloves is remaining invisible. I would know; I designed them. They were a gift for my son on his eighteenth birthday."

I stared at him, unsure of what he implied. A moment later he answered my unasked question.

"Shortly after that, he became an agent for the Ethereal Sway. Yes, it is my son that you are pursuing. That is why I asked Volipril to send me an agent. I fear if you reach the church in time, you may find yourself in lethal combat... and I could never bring myself to kill my own son. His name is Geoff Rythadine, although I suspect he may have taken on a new, religious name. Such nonsense is how the Ethereal Sway seduces their recruits."

Tinker sat very still for a moment, then he sighed and stood, collecting the empty tea cups.

"If you are to reach the church in time, you will need specialized tools. Come with me... I think you will like my latest inventions."

[Breaker]

Tinker opened a door which led to a flight of stairs heading down to a torchlit basement. I didn't want to think about the kind of effort it would take to carve a cellar out of solid mountain bedrock. "Then again, he is an alchemist... maybe he found an easy way of doing it." I followed the moustached man down the stairs, wondering what fantastic inventions he was about to show me.

The basement felt cluttered; tables with strange devices on them lined the floor. Most of the items seemed like welding mishaps, but occasionally something stood out. A small silver kettle kept whistling, then stopping, and then whistling again, as if someone kept moving it on and off of a stove top. We wound our way through the jumble, arriving at a well-lit corner that was clearly Tinker's workstation. He stopped, ensuring he had my attention, and then swept a dusty drop cloth away with a grand gesture. I coughed and blinked, fanning dust. Finally I had a clear view of the counter.

"Boots?"

A pair of white metal boots sat in the centre of the work bench, looking pristine and new. I glanced sideways at Tinker. He looked overjoyed at my scepticism, for it would give him a chance to brag about the many wonders of the white boots.

"Not just boots, my boy! Go ahead, try them on."

The weight of the boots immediately lifted my doubt. They weighed nothing, or next to nothing, definitely less than a pound. I sat down on a bench and pulled my hiking boots off, replacing them with the white metal ones. The interior felt like soft padded leather, and re-moulded itself to fit my foot perfectly. They fastened by a series of three clasps per boot, which reminded me of alpine ski boots and rollerblades. I took an instant liking to them; lighter than any other footwear I owned, they would give me an edge for high kicks while providing a solid striking surface. Tinker grinned from ear to ear.

"Fine work isn't it? The core is pure mythril, light and strong, and imbued with many enchantments."

I had been examining the bottom of the boots. They had greaves like a tire tread, excellent for traction on any surface. My head snapped up at the mention of enchantments.

"You mean there's more to these?" He laughed.
"My dear Breaker, I wouldn't be much of an alchemist if all I did is make shoes. Now... listen carefully. These boots have been enchanted to create a telepathic link with whoever wears them. Do you understand what that means?"

I nodded and reached into my pocket. From within I produced the Angel Eye, an extremely useful gadget I picked up at a Bazaar auction. The Angel Eye flew around, controlled by a telepathic link by whoever wore the eye patch it projected whatever it saw onto. I had used it often to avoid trouble.

"I got this at the Bazaar," I told Tinker, handing it to him, "It does the same thing, I think. Forms a telepathic link with the wearer. It works fine for me, which I've always found confusing, because I'm no telepath."

Tinker examined the object for a moment then handed it back to me.

"You don't need to be a telepath yourself; the magic is in the object. Yes, I believe these boots work along the same principle as your magnificent flying eye. Now, once you have the boots on, there are several aspects of them you are able to control, to alter at will. All you need do is think."

"Which aspects?" I asked, concentrating on turning the boots purple. They stayed white.

"Weight, for one. At the moment they weigh next to nothing, but with a thought you can alter the density, making them weigh anything from one to one hundred pounds?"

I thought about it, and instantly I felt the boots get heavier. "These weigh a hundred pounds each?" With an effort, I lifted my right foot then set it down. Then I lifted my left higher and set it gently on a bench. The bench creaked dangerously, like it was about to crumble, and I hastily removed my foot. A simple thought brought the boots back to weighing almost nothing.

"This is... incredible." I mused. My mind raced, thinking of the possibilities. If I kicked out and timed the weight transition just right, I could hit a target with my foot weighing a hundred pounds. "It would be like having a sledgehammer for a leg," I realized.

"Isn't it?" Tinker gloated, "But that's not all! That's not going to help you climb the mountain. Think again Breaker. Think about making the bottom of the boots as smooth as ice, then smoother and slipperier still."

I thought for a moment, but noticed no difference. Then Tinker put his hand on my chest and pushed. I slid quickly and silently across the workshop until my back hit a cold stone wall. Grinning, I pushed off the wall and began pumping my legs, "skating" back to Tinker. While the soles of the boots slid easily across the consistent floor, the edges remained normal metal, allowing me purchase to push off.

"You see? In an open area you will be able to move faster than you could ever run, by reducing the friction of the soles to almost nothing. On the other hand, by increasing the friction you'll be able to walk across ice as though it were gravel. But friction has many powers my boy... that is the wonder of mixing magic with science. Walk up the wall."

[Breaker]

By that point, I was willing to believe just about anything. I faced a blank wall and placed the bottom of my right foot on it, silently commanding the boots to stick. A second later I tried to pull back but couldn't; my foot was firmly fastened to the rock wall. Flexing what felt like every muscle in my body, I placed my other foot on the wall beside it, so that I found myself standing parallel to the ground, panting for breath. My abdominals and quadriceps felt on fire, burning with the task of keeping my body from hitting the floor. Despite the immense effort it took, I walked a couple steps straight up the wall before dropping back to the floor, panting. Tinker smoothed his moustache pensively.

"Hmm... I suppose it would be easier if you ran up walls, or climbed normally by finding handholds. The boots will provide you with all the footholds you need, for they can create incredibly powerful static friction. Now you know how to use them, I must finalize the alchemy, and then you will be on your way.

Finalizing the alchemy involved me standing on a low table while Tinker tinkered with the boots, muttering incantations and other things I didn't understand. After a few moments he disappeared into a closet and came out carrying a vat of molten brown metal. "He must be stronger than he looks," I thought.

With his index finger Tinker drew an invisible line from the vat to each of the boots, and the brown fluid began to flow through the air as if he had created two invisible conduits. I looked down and saw that tiny holes had appeared in the white boots, allowing the brown molten metal to seep in. I felt heat, but nothing unbearable. Tinker began wiggling his fingers over top of the boots, his muttering getting faster. The white metal seemed to writhe, then began to blend with the brown, forming a powerful alloy. It was all over in a few minutes; Tinker returned the almost-full vat to the closet, and I examined the finished boots. I couldn't be sure how it had been accomplished, but they had turned a dull non-reflective black, almost like coarse black leather. I had to look very closely to tell that they were made from metal rather than leather, and to notice that they had clasps rather than laces.

"Tinker," I said, "You're a genius."

The hermit grinned, but he seemed a little worried.

"What I have done," he explained, "is created a new alloy from mythril and dehlar. Theoretically, the boots will retain their enchantments, but the addition of the dehlar should stop those enchantments from being modified, removed, or otherwise disenchanted." He took a deep breath then said, "Try to alter them."

I concentrated on making the boots heavy again, as heavy as they could be. The table groaned and gave way as I suddenly became two hundred pounds heavier, and I landed with a dull clunk on the floor as Tinker clapped his hands joyfully. He began making all sorts of odd signs with his hand, muttering once more. Nothing happened. Again the old hermit clapped his hands, success blazing in his eyes.

"Well done, alchemist," I congratulated him, "So what will you call this wonderful new metal, and these highly useful inventions?"

Tinker didn't even have to think; it was clear he had been anticipating this moment for some time.

"The metal I will give my namesake... a new alloy called rythadine. And the first items to be crafted from rythadine I will name after you... these shall be known as the Breaker Boots."

[Breaker]

The Breaker Boots lived up to and surpassed my expectations. I climbed the mountain stoically, for the most part hiking up a steep path. Occasionally I found myself faced with sheer rock faces, but with the enchanted boots clinging to the surface like two black leeches I had no trouble climbing them. The heavy leather gloves Tinker had outfitted me with found handholds easily, and I hauled myself up with the boots keeping me stable at all times. I made good time, working up a sweat as I travelled. Tinker had also given me a set of his homemade garments for warmth. The fur-covered leather kept me from freezing but restricted my movement a little, particularly tight across the chest and through the legs. I was attempting to navigate a rocky outcrop without ripping the jacket when a voice hailed me.

"You're too late, Breaker! You may as well jump off, you won't catch me!"

I recognized the Salvic accented voice; it was the thief who had laughed at me atop Volipril's wall. Geoff Rythadine. My hands grew cold as they gripped the frigid rock. I leaned back, swinging my head left and right. Above me, I caught a glimpse of the thief, floating magically through the air. The same high-altitude winds that threatened to tear me from the mountain seemed to do his bidding, pushing him upwards. As I watched he landed on a flat area and took off at a light jog. "The church must be close. I've got to catch him." With renewed energy I scrambled up the cliff.

I climbed feverishly. Tinker's jacket tore between my shoulder blades, and again on the right bicep. I powered onwards, my muscles aching from the rapid pace. Finally I clambered onto the ledge I had seen Tinker's son land on. A windswept path between the rocks led to a small square plateau. Atop the plateau stood a building, undoubtedly the church I sought. Without hesitation I sprinted up the path.

The doors hung wide open, swinging in the breeze.