Free First Hero by Adam Blade

over, inspecting it carefully. The sound of angry words rose in the air and the general took a step back, then planted his foot firmly in the soldier’s chest, kicking him off the log.
    “Clean yourselves up, you dogs!” he shouted. “We have a long march through the Broken Gorge tomorrow.”
    He left the rest of the men grumbling and walked off. Tanner and Gwen followed the general, carefully navigating their way around the outside of the camp, darting from tree to tree. They reached a tent set aside from the others, with its own fire blazing outside. Gor was bending on one knee before the flames, his eyes closed. This was too good an opportunity to miss.
    “Now’s our chance,” whispered Tanner. Gwen nodded, her mouth set in a thin line. He drew his sword silently, and Gwen brushed her cloak away from her side, pulling an ax from her belt.
    “Come, Master!” said Gor suddenly. Tanner peered around the tree again. Gor had raised one arm to the fire, and his fingers were splayed. Slowly, he drew them together in a fist. “Arise, Lord of Avantia!”
    The flames flickered and flared, stretching upward into a column, swirling around like a tornado, changing color from yellow to green. Magic! Tanner put out a hand to hold Gwen back and the two of them watched intently.
    The fire died back, shrinking to an unearthly blue glow in the shape of … a man. Even from his hiding place Tanner saw a head with scorched hair and a face lined with vicious scars. The vision’s skin was blistered and raw; there was something terrible about the image in the fire. Something familiar.
    He swallowed a gasp. Even with the deeply etched scars and the features melted by fire, there could be no doubt. He’d seen this face before, as a child.
    Derthsin. The man who killed my father.

G reetings, Master,” said General Gor.
    “Have you retrieved the mask?” hissed Derthsin’s image.
    “I beg your forgiveness, Master, but I have not,” said Gor. “Only a fragment of the mask was in Forton, where it was lost. It seems that the meddlesome old woman has hidden the other pieces, with help from a Colweirian mapmaker.”
    Gor glanced up into the vision’s rage-contorted face. He hurriedly continued. “But there is good news! We have retrieved a map telling us where the pieces are.” The general smiled nervously, rounding his shoulders as if he were trying to make himself smaller in front of his superior.
    The blue image briefly flared brighter. Tanner closed his eyes against the glare. It was Derthsin, communicating with Gor through the fire. How had he survived being dropped into the volcano by Firepos, all those years ago?
    “General Gor,” Derthsin hissed. “Do you wish to earn my displeasure?”
    Gor shook his head.
    “Burn every village; kill every peasant. I care not what you do — just get me my mask!”
    “I will,” said General Gor. Tanner could see he was trembling. “I just need more time.”
    “Very well,” said Derthsin. “But if you fail, I will turn Varlot on you.”
    So the Beast is under Derthsin’s control!
    “Yes, Master,” said Gor.
    The image of the warlord shrank back into the embers with a hiss. Derthsin had gone; Gor’s time with him was over. The general climbed stiffly to his feet and retreated to his tent, emerging a moment later with the rolled-up map in one hand and the broken piece of mask in his other.
    It was time. Tanner edged closer with Gwen at his side. They were only a few paces away when Tanner’s foot came down on a dry stick. Gor’s head snapped up. He stared through the trees into the darkness. He was looking straight at them — or was he?
    Tanner didn’t move a muscle. He didn’t even breathe. Beside him, he sensed Gwen holding still. The general’s eyes narrowed. After what seemed an eternity his body relaxed and he turned back to the map, unrolling it on the ground and peering at it. He gave a low curse, then bellowed toward the camp. “Bring me the prisoner!”
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