Shadows
Chapter Thirteen: Unlucky For Some

It was early evening by the time Arrow arrived back at the beach to regroup with the rest of the bandits. They were not in a good mood, and even the arrival of Arrow with several freshly caught rabbits was not enough to cheer them up. A vocal trio were already a couple of drinks in and groaning up a storm.

“I can’t believe he just let that girl go with that box of hers! Who knows what was in there?” grumbled Wrencher.

“I know! And I had to give her back that dagger. You know how much I’ve been after a new dagger, haven’t you?” Hamish growled to the group.

“He didn’t even try and look in the pouch! What kind of thief passes up on something he hasn’t even laid eyes upon?” wailed a third, named Lynch.

“Come to think of it, did we get anything from the specky strip of nothing at the end of the line?”

“No, we didn’t! I bet you he was loaded too, he looked and sounded a right posh twerp.”

“Well look, if it cheers you lads up at all I saw a naked girl in the woods who can conjure arrows out of nowhere,” interrupted Arrow. The trio ceased their complaining and turned to look at him in bewilderment.

“You been eating strange mushrooms again?” asked Lynch.

“No, and I’ve already said I didn’t eat strange mushrooms that time, I really did see a whale with a massive spike coming out of its forehead.”

“To be honest, I was with you up until you mentioned the arrows out of nowhere. I mean warm summer, quiet forests, you’re bound to get some naturists larking about by a stream, but what’s this about arrows, Arrow?” queried Wrencher.

“Well I can only say what I saw,” shrugged Arrow, taking a seat, “but I was out hunting earlier and had my eye on a rabbit. I crawled to the edge of a clearing and lined up my shot when suddenly another arrow sings across the clearing and kills the rabbit stone dead. I dropped out of sight and waited to see who came to collect it, when lo and behold this naked young woman comes scampering out, picks it up and runs off!”

“Where did she go?” asked Hamish.

“I don’t know, she disappeared.”

“You mean you weren’t keeping an eye on her?”

“I was,” replied Arrow defensively, “I just didn’t want to be indecent, you know?”

“Oh, you pansy!” joked Wrencher, knocking Arrow on the shoulder. “You might not have any titles any more Lord Twaddlesbrook, but you’re still ever the gentleman!”

“Knock it off Wrench!” snapped Arrow, but this just made the rest of the group laugh harder.

“So where did the arrow come from?” asked a smaller, more intellectual member of the group.

“Well who knows, Art? Maybe she hid the bow in the woods?” shrugged Lynch.

“I don’t think so,” Arrow shook his head. “I don’t think she had a bow; she didn’t have an archer’s build.”

“I thought you said you weren’t being indecent?” smirked Wrencher.

“Look, I just notice these things right?” Arrow shot back.

“Oh, I bet you do!” chuckled Hamish with a laugh like thunder.

“Is it just arrows?” asked the one named Art.

“What?” Arrow asked amidst the laughing of the rest of the group.

“Is it just arrows she can conjure out of thin air?”

“I don’t know, arrows is all I saw and I’m not even sure she did create it. Like Lynch said, maybe she just hid it in the woods.”

“That doesn’t sound right to me, and I can tell you don’t believe that either. You’re a smart man, Arrow,” whispered Art, and the two leaned in conspiratorially. “Naked woman running about in the forests, conjuring stuff? That sounds like witchcraft if ever I heard. You know those forests up north used to be rife with witches and the sort, performing heathenistic rituals.”

“Witchcraft? You’re saying she was a witch?”

“Witch or not, it sounds like magic is what I’m saying.” Arrow’s brow furrowed.

“What, you mean when you get some man in a faded robe with stars on coming up to you and saying: ‘Pick a card, any card?’”

“No,” replied Art, mentally taking back the ‘smart man’ compliment, “I mean real magic, not poncy parlour tricks. Magic with a ‘k’. Imagine – if we had a witch on our side, or at our mercy, we really would be the most feared highwaymen in the Empire.”

“Do you think Duvet will go for it though?”

“Who needs Duvet’s permission? Everyone’s tired of his leadership, they’ve just been waiting for the right moment. This is the right moment, Arrow. You can lead us back to this girl, can’t you? You’re the best tracker of the lot of us.” Arrow found himself nodding along as Art spoke. “We’re only making a pittance keeping this roadblock going, we need to take care of Duvet then move up into the forests and get searching for the girl. With magic on our side, we’ll be rich men for life.”

Arrow hesitated. He wasn’t in this for the riches, and he certainly didn’t want to harm any young girls, but the look in Art’s eyes was a very dangerous one. They burned like fire with ambition and, like fire, suggested anyone found standing in his way would be scorched.[23] Arrow gulped.

“So what do we do?”

“I’ll spread the word amongst the men. Get them on side, you understand? Let them know what’ll be coming.”

“And what is coming, Art?”

“Change, Arrow,” Art grinned like a snake as he pulled back his cloak to reveal a small, shiny dagger. “Change.”

The climb up to Clifftop after parting ways with the bandits had been largely uneventful. The journey itself had been difficult, and more than once they’d had to pause to repair a broken wheel or spoke. Despite Robert’s uncanny ability to determine how a wheel had broken and how best to fix it, they were going to be lucky to reach Clifftop by sunset. As the sun sailed across the sky unhindered and the wagons crawled slower and slower up the mountainside, Angie got more and more nervous. The incident with the bandits had delayed them, and their progress was now painstakingly slow.

And with each second of progress lost, the gap between them and the Skadirr grew ever smaller.

“Wow. W-what a view.” Robert sighed as he admired the scenery from the top of the Chalk Cliffs. He would have been rendered breathless by the sight if the climb hadn’t already done that for him. Gazing out across the ocean he could almost see the outline of the shores of Elthrium, many miles away. Waves crashed against the rocks below and the warm wind whipped against him. Gulls cried from their nests in the cliff face below, punctuating the tranquil symphony of the coast.

“It is impressive,” acknowledged Angie, who had hobbled up to stand next to him. “But I can’t linger here long. I know Godfrey said they’d be stopping here overnight to rest the horses and properly repair the wagons tomorrow, but the Skadirr will definitely catch up if we don’t move before then. Those damn bandits delayed us more than I can afford.”

“I t-thought they were quite nice, actually.”

“Well yes, that Duvet fellow seemed nice. Strange, but nice. Something I’ve been having to get used to lately.”

“Pardon?” asked Robert.

“Oh, nothing.” Angie sighed. Robert puzzled on this remark for a moment.

“You’re not that strange.” He hazarded.

“Oh, really? That is a blessing.” Angie chuckled dryly. “I suppose what I’m trying to say is – I’m leaving Clifftop tonight. I have to keep moving, even if the wagons can’t. So I wanted to say thank you one last time, for all your help.”

“Oh. You’re welcome,” smiled Robert meekly. Angie stuck out a hand towards him and he stared blankly at it briefly before extending his own hand to shake it. Her hand was quite leathery, and calloused from the signs of hard work, but despite that her touch was surprisingly soft. Conversely, Robert felt his own palm was quite clammy and he was almost certainly applying too much pressure.

Eventually the handshake broke, and with a passing look out to sea Angie turned and began to walk back towards the town centre, the road, and the way down to Alderbay. Robert turned to follow her as she walked. She still wasn’t replaceing walking much easier despite the crook for support, and more than once Robert thought she would fall.

“Are we going now?” he called after her. “Only I thought it might make sense for us to eat some supper first. It’s still a long road ahead to Alderbay and it seems silly to d-do it on an empty stomach.”

Angie turned back to stare at him with an expression that was more difficult for Robert to read than usual. She stared for so long Robert began to worry he’d said something dreadfully wrong.

“D-did I say something w-wrong?”

“No,” said Angie softly. “We?”

“P-pardon?”

“You said we. ’Are we going now?’ That’s what you said. Are you planning on coming with me?”

“Well, w-when we were discussing plans earlier we were speaking as if we’d head to Alderbay together.”

“Yes, but that was before the bandits, when we assumed we’d both be getting the wagons there. We didn’t say anything about if we were delayed and I wanted to start walking.”

“I don’t see how that changes our plans.”

“They weren’t our plans, though! I had my plan and you had your plan, they just happened to coincide for the most part.”

“I d-don’t understand the difference.”

“Look,” sighed Angie, striding back up towards him, “I can’t pretend to understand you Robert, but I think you’re a decent human being. I like you, so I’m going to try and be as nice as I can about this. Do you have feelings for me?”

“I d-don’t know what you mean…” Robert trailed off awkwardly. He didn’t like where this line of questioning was taking them, and he could feel his body begin to get uncomfortably hot and itchy.

“You know full well what I mean! Weren’t you on a date with Rosemary Bletherwick at the Summer Festival? I know you know about relationships, I read your diary!” At that Angie’s face froze. Her mouth dropped open and her hand shot up to cover it. “I didn’t mean…”

Robert was equally frozen. This was mortifying. Someone had read his diary. His diary. He could feel his body shutting down. Angie began to speak again but it was muffled, and all Robert wanted to do was slam his hands over his ears and yell to block out the noise. As his hands got halfway to his ears Angie grabbed them and tried to hold them still. Despite her gentle touch earlier Robert found she had a surprisingly strong and persistent grip.

“I’m sorry!” Angie yelled, but Robert groaned and dropped to his knees, bringing her down with him in a tangled heap of limbs. “I didn’t mean to read it, I just stumbled across it!” Robert was moaning now, trying to drown out Angie’s words so he couldn’t hear her.

“I d-don’t! W-want! To hear!” he screeched, flailing and kicking. A rogue blow connected with Angie and the girl squealed and let go of him. Robert sprang to his feet but his foot caught against a loose rock and he tumbled back to the floor, his glasses flying away from him. There was a harsh crack of wood as Robert connected with something hard and sharp.

“The Orb!” shouted Angie in a panic, and Robert squinted as he saw a glowing red sphere jump across his blurred vision. Instinctively he reached out to stop it rolling further away just as Angie shouted: “Don’t touch it!”

It was too late. Robert’s sweaty hand clasped around the Orb, and his mind exploded with noise and light and pain. He felt himself lurch forward and then he was falling, and falling, and falling…

Inside the Orb, Ambriel and Varkun jumped as the world seemed to shake and rock. Masonry cracked and shattered, tumbling to the floor in a stony cascade.

“What on earth was that?” asked Ambriel. “Is such a phenomenon common in here?”

“No,” replied Farkun, his eyes darting around. “There have been surges as people have touched the Orb over the years and been… absorbed to sustain our world, but this is… different. We need to get to the King.”

Robert opened his eyes. So, I’m not dead, he thought. If anything the sensation he had experienced when touching the Orb had felt like when he dived into the past of a book, but he had never felt such a powerful tug before. Normally he had control as to when he slipped into the past of something, but this time it was as if the Orb had dragged him along for the ride instead. Curious.

As he surveyed his surroundings, which were dark and blurry[24], he began to think he might be in a cave of sorts. I suppose it would make sense. When you get down to the basics, the Orb is a rock, so it must have come from deep within the ground. Time flowed onwards, and Robert watched as a pickaxe pierced the blackness and let a thin shaft of sunlight shine in. The pickaxe returned, bringing with it more and more light until the cave was fully illuminated, the sun’s rays bathing the hollow in rich yellows and oranges.

He watched as the silhouettes of men clambered into the cave to continue chipping away at the rock face, when suddenly a ball of dazzling white light dropped forth from the wall. One of the men caught it, and held it up in his hand to examine it. There was chatter in a language older than even Robert knew, and sounds of jubilation and impressed murmurs.

Time leapt forward once more, and Robert watched as the Orb passed between owners, some transitions being amicable – Orb for food, money for Orb – and others being… not so mutually beneficial. From what Robert could see this was all just happening over an impressive looking but otherwise ordinary ball of quartz or some such material. It certainly didn’t seem to display any of the special qualities Angie had suggested so far.

But then something strange happened.

There seemed to be a big fight… or a big hunt. A man. A cave. Tortured screams and mournful wailing. Rock, wood, blood; water. Images flew past Robert’s mind faster than he could register, and he shut his eyes tight until the rage stopped and it was quiet once more. Tentatively he opened an eye.

Although blurry, Robert could unmistakably make out the Orb lying on a marble plinth within a lit stone chamber. No longer was it a clear, shimmering ball though. It was glowing a deep ruby red that twisted and broiled like a cloud of ferocious blood, billowing as if trying to escape its confines. As time passed, the torches in the chamber went out, dust coated the plinth and the Orb resting upon it, and darkness enveloped it once more.

It was not to last however, as with the familiar chipping of pickaxes and knocking of hammers, light streamed into the room again, highlighting a thick, dancing stream of dust shimmering through the air. Shadows fell across the Orb as men stepped into the room, and once more lauded their discovery. The river of the past trickled onwards, and Robert watched as these people began to worship the Orb, taking it back to their temples and performing rituals around it that Robert was glad were blurry to his eyes.

Then one day during one of the rituals, a robed man lifted the Orb high with one hand and with the other projected a massive gout of blue flames that crackled and sparked in the moonlight. The worshippers gathered around cheered and praised the power of the Orb, vying for the attention of the robed man and hoping they too could perform such feats. Robert watched down the years as the worshippers harnessed the power of the Orb, gradually becoming more confident and more powerful. The ranks of the cult grew and grew with each passing year, and Robert watched in awe as some of the worshippers’ new-borns were able to exhibit powers without needing to touch the Orb. The Orb’s magic was weaving its way into their very being…

Robert had never truly believed in magic before – not proper magic. He knew tricks performed with smoke and mirrors existed, but actual magic had been nothing but fairy stories, myths; legends. Much as he’d wished to live in such a marvellous and wondrous world full of magic, he’d known it was impossible and ruled it out as childish dreaming. But seeing it evolve before his eyes, seeing magical feats impossible to replicate with a hidden compartment and sleight of hand, was starting to convince him otherwise. It was remarkable. He could see how such power and majesty could be very… addictive. How it could be abused.

The world of magic didn’t seem quite so magical when it involved blood rituals.

Meanwhile, Angie was frozen in shock as Robert lay unconscious on the ground, Orb clasped in his hand and eyes screwed tightly shut. She had expected him to instantly explode into flames, but so far that hadn’t happened, and Angie hoped he wasn’t about to any time soon. Her initial worries aside, however, panic began to rise in her again as she realised it didn’t seem as if Robert was breathing.

Not much further down the years another war came. Robert couldn’t quite tell how it had started – had others attacked the cultists first, fearing their power? Had the cultists become too power hungry, and sought dominion over the others? The initial spark of war was over in an instant, but the roaring inferno of war raged for much longer. By the end of it, there was no doubt who the victors were. With their supreme power and terrible majesty granted to them by the Orb, the cultists had won.

Time wore on, and over the course of hundreds of years the cultists built massive monuments and statues as a testament to their magnificence. They constructed grand palaces, towers and castles that housed thousands. Truly, Robert thought, they had been a mighty civilisation. Beneath these wonders however, lay the labour of slaves; the defeated peoples who had dared stand against the cultists. Robert could not stand to watch their horrific and despicable treatment, which in his opinion rather dulled the intended gleam of the cultists’ empire.

In keeping with the rest of the Orb’s history however, it would have been remiss if something unusual or bloody didn’t happen next. Wars almost seemed to act as punctuation in the Orb’s history, and sure enough before too long there was yet another one. The cultists seemed to turn against one another, magic clashing furiously with magic, until the numbers of the cultists dwindled so greatly the oppressed humans saw their chance to eliminate their masters and attacked. The Orb was quickly stashed away by the cultists and transported to a place of safety. When again it was revealed to the light, Robert found himself standing in a large room of a once grand palace, now crumbling and decaying.

Cultists were gathered around in a big circle around the Orb – men, women; children. All downhearted, all overcome with grief, all desperate – except for one man. Standing tall over the others, Robert could tell this man was filled with rage – the rage of betrayal; of shame and defeat. He spoke to the others in a commanding tone, and one by one the cultists began chanting in unison with him. Bright and powerful lights danced around them as they chanted, ethereal runes bursting into life and circling the group as they chanted. Some were ripped apart by magical force, others simply ceasing to be; dissolving in a swirl of light. Only seven were left standing as the room shook and collapsed around them, and then suddenly, with a pulse of the Orb like a heartbeat, the seven were gone.

Robert could not pretend to understand any of this. None of it was recorded in any of the books he had read, and he desperately tried to remember every moment so he could note it down when he returned to reality. But how was he going to do that? He had no control over what he was seeing, and had no idea how much more history he would have to endure before he caught up with the present day – where the Orb was in Clifftop, lying on the grass with his hand wrapped around it.

The Orb was discovered for the third time, lying amidst the ruins of the destroyed palace. Robert was familiar with the expressions on the peoples’ faces as they found it. Their initial jubilation, however, turned to horror as the first to lay their hands upon the Orb was instantly incinerated. Robert froze, acutely aware he had touched the Orb in a similar fashion, and began wondering if he was indeed dead after all. To the best of his knowledge he’d not been reduced to ashes and normally this would be enough to know for sure.

Then again, what if he was in some kind of afterlife? How would you be able to tell? Robert had never truly believed in the Gods, or life after death, mainly because in a similar way to magic he had always categorised it as a fanciful notion. Wonderful if true, but sadly lacking in evidence – though witnessing the existence of magic was beginning to make Robert rethink. Then again, if the Gods and life after death were anything like the magic Robert had been witnessing, there was probably a lot hidden in the fine print that made the idea much less appealing.

Eventually the Orb was carefully lifted from its resting place with great care and a thick metal gauntlet, and brought to sit in the middle of a group of people who seemed to have gathered to deliberate over the fate of the Orb. This time Robert could half understand what they were saying, as they seemed to be talking in Old Elthric. Perhaps this wasn’t so far in the past as he had first thought.

“So it is true…” whispered one, leaning forward. “The great weapon of the enemy has been found. It is a gift.”

“You cannot wield it,” interrupted another. “None of us can. They must have placed some foul magic on it in anticipation of their defeat to prevent us from using it.”

“What would you know of this?” scoffed the first.

“My father was Garamond Marlett. He discovered the secret of the Orb, and has studied it more than any among us here. Did you not see Segoe burst into flames the moment he touched it? If you wish to suffer the same fate my friend, you are more than welcome to try to use the Orb.”

Silence fell amongst the gathering once more.

“So if we cannot use it, what good is it?” asked a third.

“It is no good. It led the enemy into ruin, and if we try to exploit it, it shall do much the same to us!” yelled a fourth, an old man with a long beard.

“What would you propose we do with it then?”

“Destroy it!”

“Yes, we should destroy it!” came the cry.

“And if it proves indestructible?” a voice queried.

“If that is the case then we should hide it. Stow it away where no-one shall replace it again. We must not let history repeat itself.”

“We are sure that we cannot utilise its strength?” persisted the first man again.

“Even if we could replace a way,” sighed the second man, “I do not want this new Empire to be built on magic, or slavery, or oppression. The Orb has no place in our new world.”

The meeting faded away into mist, and the years began their dance again, as Robert watched the Orb remain intact despite the group’s best chances at destroying it. Eventually a conclusion was reached, and the Orb was loaded onto a ship and taken far away across the ocean. After a long and treacherous voyage Robert saw islands on the horizon, coated with thick, lush trees that Robert recognised from a book on jungles. The Orb was carted onto the shore of one of these islands, and a great undertaking took place to build an impenetrable vault deep underground. Many moons passed, but eventually the Orb’s resting place was complete and it was secreted deep underground.

Angie knelt down to take a closer look at Robert, carefully avoiding coming into contact with the Orb. Her leg twinged and she grimaced as her knees touched the floor, but there were far more important matters on her mind to be bothered by the shooting pain down her calf. Angie sighed with relief as she noted that, upon closer inspection, Robert did indeed appear to be breathing, albeit infrequently, in short, shallow gasps. Her hand reached out to touch his forehead but she hesitated briefly, wondering if she would burst into flames if she touched Robert. Did it work that way?

Taking the chance she placed her forearm against Robert’s forehead and recoiled in shock and pain. Robert was perishingly cold, and it felt as if her forearm had been stabbed with a million icy daggers. What was going on?! Angie exclaimed, for the first time noticing a faint high-pitched whistling noise ringing through her ears. She scanned around the horizon quickly, before her eyes found themselves dropping towards the Orb Robert gripped firmly in his hand. Angie’s jaw dropped.

Where the Orb touched Robert’s skin there were hissing tendrils of steam rising into the air.

The Orb lay in its hiding spot for hundreds of years, watched over by a tribe made up of those who had stayed behind to guard it. Robert watched idly as the sun and moon span across the sky, dipping below the sea and darting up again so quickly they became a blur. Gradually they slowed, and Robert saw a ship on the horizon. As it sailed into focus he noticed it was manned by what looked like a crew of merchants, with a large, barrel chested man with a wild grey beard at the wheel. They lay anchor not far from the shore, and disembarked with practiced ease. Robert watched the locals creep forth from the trees, and observed as some sort of discussion took place and the merchants were led below into the temple.

Robert drifted after them, watching intently to see what would occur. Down and down the group went, through winding catacombs and tunnels, until they reached the Orb, still glistening like a hungry red maw. The merchants and tribesman fanned out into the room and gazed upon the Orb, transfixed by its perverse beauty. It unfortunately wasn’t long until one of the merchants reached out their hand and touched the Orb. In a blaze of light and with a surprised scream, they disappeared from sight. The rest of the group hurriedly turned to leave, but their path was blocked by-

“A Skadirr,” breathed Robert. The hooded shadow rose forth from the floor, and instantly set about attacking the terrified group, who hacked and slashed at it to no avail. Robert watched as the chief of the tribesmen swiped the Orb from the pedestal into a sack and hastily bundled it into the barrel chested man’s arms, who promptly fled up and out of the temple with impressive speed for a man of his size and age.

Time span on and Robert watched enraptured as the man reached his ship and sailed away, the Skadirr on his tail all the way across the ocean. Robert saw the ship lay anchor in the familiar ports of Velayne, and realised from the bunting being strung up this must have occurred not long before the Summer Festival. Was the Skadirr the one Angie had talked about? He had been certain they didn’t exist anymore, but just like the magic he had seen it with his own two eyes… for all his reading, what did he really know?

One thing was for sure – he fully understood why Angie was so eager to get away from the Skadirr as quickly as possible. It had been like something out of a nightmare…

As was the next scene that swam into focus before him. Robert was in the cabin of a ship, and to his surprise he saw Angie stood before the man he thought of as the merchant captain. Was this the Verne Angie had talked about? The pair of them were talking pleasantly, smiles on their faces, but not for long. Billowing up like choking black smoke behind Verne came the Skadirr, and with a sudden, unstoppable strike it pierced the captain’s back with a blade of warped shadow. Robert saw the horror and pain on Angie’s face as the man died in front of her. He watched unblinking as the cabin descended into chaos, flames roaring and acrid smoke obscuring the room.

Robert’s heart stopped as he saw the Skadirr bring its blade down towards Angie, and winced in shared pain as he saw the Skadirr’s blade bite into her leg. A soldier strode into the room and moved to fight the Skadirr but he didn’t fare well, his shield shattering and the hand holding it dropping to the floor in a few short seconds. Robert saw Angie crawl across the floor and retrieve the box containing the Orb, and nearly cheered as he watched her stumble out of the cabin and begin running to safety. He half wanted to stay and watch the fate of the Skadirr but he was dragged after Angie and the Orb as she fled. Even so, he squinted back towards the burning ship as it faded from view. The inferno was raging now, and he hoped he would see the Skadirr perish which would allow him to tell Angie, hopefully putting her at ease.

She’d looked at his diary though, came a thought, but that seemed years ago and many miles away. No less important, however – no-one had ever read his diary before and the thought of his innermost thoughts being laid bare and read by another made his body feel like shutting down. Comparatively, the Skadirr didn’t seem half as scary a thought…

Robert followed Angie and the Orb on her frenzied, limping path across the city to the west gate. Robert watched as her feet pounded the road through the gate and out towards the wagons pulling away, the wagons Robert knew he had been travelling in just last night. He watched Angie collapse into the back of the rear wagon, heaving and retching, and then the scene began to fall away from him. He was being drawn up at speed, the land disappearing beneath soft white wisps as the clouds enveloped him…

Angie was crouched over Robert, watching with bated breath as Robert coughed and spluttered back to life, finally relinquishing his hold on the Orb. It dropped heavily from his hand and landed with a slight sizzle into the grass. She gasped and sighed in relief.

“You’re alive, then?”

“I suppose I am,” Robert groaned.

“Not to be rude or anything, but you should be a charred pile of ash right about now. How were you able to touch the Orb without being incinerated?”

“I d-don’t know.”

Angie paused. The boy seemed to have forgotten about the diary comment and was being a lot calmer at the moment, perhaps just because he didn’t have any energy to shout and scream as he had been. Angie knew diaries were personal and what she’d done was wrong, but Robert’s reaction had been rather… severe and… unexpected, so she decided to steer clear of that topic for now.

Besides, Robert being the first person Angie knew who was able to touch the Orb and not be burnt to a crisp was the infinitely more interesting topic for discussion at the moment. Robert had always seemed strange, but now Angie began to wonder if there wasn’t something more to it…

Before she could linger on the thought too long, her train of thought was interrupted by commotion coming from the village.

[23] He’d not been with the group long, but Art had managed to quickly integrate himself through his skill with words. If Arrow had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, Art had been born with a silver tongue.

[24] It seemed as if glasses did not magically appear again in these past visions, which Robert thought was regrettable.