The Guild's citadel lurked in the Iowa darkness. An underground fortress, the building above was little more than a brick shed with a trapdoor. Though Jorick knew Malick had grand plans, clever plans. Plans that no longer concerned him.

Jorick left his horse at the stable and passed to the small building. A guard stood at the door, looking stiff and terrified. Jorick could feel the cause of his fear, Malick's presence. The ancient master was not buried deep in his chambers, as ...