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 he should be, but close, perhaps just inside.
With a grunt of impatience, Jorick jerked open the door, then headed down stairs that swept into a lavish entryway, complete with flickering chandelier. The firelight threw rainbows on the walls, and across the bearded face of Jorick's master. Long silver hair fell around h……
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