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  Minion filled in the last gaps in the grave he had constructed for his brother wil, One. Their father had always told him that his smart mouth would one day get him into big trouble which none of his family would be able to get him out of. That day had finally arrived.

  Minion placed the last fist-sized stone into place on the grave and stood off from it. Wils always tried to bury their dead. They were a noble people despite a few bad apples like Minion. But he still carried on the traditions of his people where his family was concerned.

  Now, he would have to go back and attend to his other brothers, Three and Two. Nobody had ever accused Minion’s parents of being creative with names. He was the youngest of his siblings and had changed his name from Four to Minion after coming into the employ of Lord Mortis. Now, he alone remained of his family.

  He considered the possibility of trying to go back to his people among the inhabitants of the Falewood in the northeast. Minion supposed that his master, Mortis, would be very angry with him. He had not killed the Wielder. If I go back to the fortress, I wonder what manner of torture will be waiting for me because of my failure.

  Minion morphed into bird form and then took flight. He flew back toward the place where the boy had killed his other brother, Two, with the edge of a sword. I’m still going to make that child pay for what he has done, he promised himself.

  As the wil came to the clearing, just beyond the edge of the Deadwood’s petrified trees, he spotted the deceased body of his older sibling, Two. Minion landed, returning to his natural form. The boy had stabbed Two right through the chest—a fatal wound to any wil.

  Minion said one of the prayers of their people for the departed. As he prayed through the short recitation, Minion heard music—violin music.

  The wil left the body of his brother where it lay, for the moment, in order to follow the sound of the music. He stalked along the edge of the forest until he came to an outcropping of rock coming right out of the of the forest perimeter. A short man of oriental race sat upon the rock dressed in sand-colored robes. The man played a hauntingly beautiful melody on a violin and appeared not to have noticed Minion approaching.

  Minion crept as quietly as possible, listening to the sweet sounds, for wils are well known to love beautiful music. The man quickly ended his private concert and, without turning his face to look at the wil, he said, “Hello, Minion.”

  The wil stopped in his tracks. “How do you know my name?” he said suspiciously.

  “Oh, I know everyone’s name,” the man said, “but I especially know you.”

  The wil did not respond.

  “Come now, Minion, are you so easily fooled?” The man climbed down from the rock and walked toward the wil.

  “Stay back,” Minion growled.

  The man’s appearance changed from an oriental man wearing sand-colored robes to his master, Lord Mortis. Minion fell prostrate at his feet as the sun beamed down upon them in the morning sky.

  “Master, I’m so glad to see you,” Minion lied. The thought of having to explain his failure had been bad enough without having Mortis leave the fortress to investigate the situation personally.

  “Master, I beg your forgiveness. My brother’s have failed me and been killed for their blundering. That foul Strom interfered with us as we tried to do your bidding. We warned him not to hinder us, but he would not listen.

  “That’s very interesting, Minion.” Mortis did not sound sympathetic to the wil’s plight.

  “Please, Lord Mortis, I have failed you. I was unable to kill the Wielder for you. I beg your forgiveness,” Minion pleaded.

  “Of course you failed to kill him, you simpleton. I never supposed that you had any ability to do as I had commanded.”

  “Master, I don’t understand.”

  “Also, not a surprise,” Mortis said. “You see, Minion, I sent you to try to kill the boy, but I never believed you could actually pull it off. That wasn’t even the point of sending you. The Wielder must be tested. He must come to know his full potential. Only then can he be defeated.”

  “But how will we defeat him if he grows more powerful?”

  “He is already defeated, you fool. Only, he doesn’t realize it yet. And that fact, dear Minion, is the key to my victory. To keep the Wielder in the struggle is the important thing and to never let him realize what he truly needs.”

  Minion still looked puzzled, but that was of no consequence to Mortis. “Attend to your ritual, Minion, then return to the fortress. Our work is only just beginning.” With that last statement, Mortis disappeared in a flash of green and red fire.

  Percival Strange & The Lonely Manor

  Hallowed Be Thy Name

  Hallowed Ground

  The Realm Shift

  The Order of Shaddai

  The Sword of Gideon

  Perdition’s Gate