Puck bows as he finishes the tale. "And if you will allow me to conclude, 'If we shadows have offended, think but this –"

The entire chamber erupts in laughter and mockery. Someone throws an apple. "Now, now," Kuma Lisa calls out. "Just because you added his books doesn't mean you can keep bringing him up."

"I discovered Shakespeare, I deserve my due," Puck says with feigned indignation. But he grins nonetheless. "He wrote that speech for me. Why can't I use it?"

"You can. Just not every session," the leader says.

As the kerfuffle continues and the leader takes the book into the robes along with the others, I notice that the dagger is now missing from your sheath. What could you possibly have planned? Your eyes are fixed on the door at the back of the chamber, a door hidden by magic and all manner of subterfuge except during these sessions. Behind that door lies all the treasures and tales that the tricksters have gathered for their own personal library.

Your eyes are fastened on that door now. We're drawing near to the halfway point of the gathering.

Down below, we have missed the calling for the next offering. It's Loki.

Loki, shrouded all in black robes, assumes the stand and removes a book that at once begins to glow a deep and full black like molten obsidian. As the pages open, the scent of magma, burning flesh, and fresh magic.

"It wasn't particularly difficult to take this one," Loki says. The pages flip open. "This tale is set in the same world as The Astounding Torryn or whatever that one was."

What the heck? Startled, I turn my gaze from you to the book below. Is it possible? I recognize that scent and some of those words as the pages flutter by. They got one of my stories? I don't know whether I'm more annoyed that they took one without letting me know or whether I'm embarrassed that I didn't figure it out sooner. The irony is rather unpleasant. Somehow I don't think I'll be living this one down any too soon.

"So listen as we go once more to the world of Tindari in this adventure titled Forbidden," Loki says.

Forbidden - @JessicaBFry

It was difficult for Nataja to see. Sweat filled her eyes and soaked her body, making her otherwise loose brown robes cling to her. That was in no small part because of the exhaustion that came from sitting so long in the heated vents of the volcano. A necessary task to build up her endurance. If she wanted to master fire sorcery, she had to be able to live with it. And as hard as it was, there was nothing so refreshing as eking into the cool mountain spring-fed pools on the cool side of the mountain. She always left just enough magic to get herself there or else she wouldn't be able to walk.

While most people undressed to bathe, she never did after a long stint in the vents. At least not until she had cooled off significantly. Besides, she was always a little afraid to remove her garb until after she had soaked for a time and some of the pool's magic had healed her. She'd avoided looking in a mirror for ages, and she was grateful that the waters here were so murky that she couldn't see her reflection. There were many prices for greatness, and beauty was fleeting, not something to be grasped or prized when something far greater could be attained.

She released a long slow breath, exulting in the bubbling waters and the way they caressed and embraced her. Though it was customary to wear the magic pouch about the waist, she always bound it around her neck like a choker so that she could immerse as much of her body in the water as possible and still be able to defend herself. But she dearly hoped that defenses would not be needed this day. She was tired and not in a particularly good mood.

"Be careful out here, Sister," Marlok said. He stepped out from behind a rock, a fistful of herbs in one hand and a basket of roots in the other. "If any of the Dragonkind find out —"

"I am dehydrated." Nataja could feel the heat seeping from her body into the water. Her vision remained blurred, a haze of whites, blues, greens, and greys. The last thing she needed was a reminder of what the Dragonkind would do if they learned that humans were practicing fire sorcery. "Let me be. Please."

Marlok drew closer, his robes swishing and his boots shuffling. His breath, scented with cinnamon, lemon, and horseradish, whooshed over her face. "You should not spend such long periods in the tunnels."

Nataja ignored him. It was an argument she and many of the Factors had had over the past few weeks. But it was irrelevant. No one swinked like her. But they should all push themselves as hard. What good would it do to master fire sorcery if they could not bear its heat?

Marlok sighed. "One of these days, I fear you will kill yourself. You are talented. Deeply talented. More so than most of your age and set. Why not make the most of that and pace yourself? I do not understand."

"Talent is worthless without practice, endurance, and tenacity." Nataja tilted her head farther against the porous rocks, letting more of her body slide into the murky waters. The rich vitamins and minerals were already healing her.

"And all that is worthless without life." Marlok straightened. His voice sounded more distant now. "Take extra precautions. And don't bring any unknown items. Especially obsidian. You might compromise our perimeter —"

"I know."

Once in the morning and once in the afternoon, she entered the lava vents on the south side of their hidden monastery and remained as long as she could. These volcanoes were supposedly far hotter than any other, partially because of the rocks and partially because of the magic that ran through the veins of the mountain. Its intensity was so great that though the monastery was built a fair distance away, it remained perpetually warm, if not downright hot. A pleasant thing if winter ever decided to return, but suffocating in the summer's warmth. But down she crept each day, deeper and deeper until the heat was so strong it seared her skin and salty sweat ran from her body like rain. At first, she could only make it ten feet down the slanted lava vent. But her endurance was growing.

Not without cost though.

Nataja slowly opened her eyes. Marlok had left, and the shadows across the grey terraced ridges of stone seemed longer. Had she passed out again? That had been happening more recently. Cupping her hands in the water, she lifted them to her cracked lips and drank deeply.

The water slid down her throat, refreshingly cool. One brilliant part of returning from the vents was how incredibly refreshing the water was. Her vision had returned to normal. Mostly. Distant images were still somewhat blurred, and her head throbbed a dull tattoo.

Her skin bore the most obvious signs. Though she was barely in her twenties, her skin was already lined, leathery, and withering. Heat blisters, scars, and other similar blemishes had developed in these past few weeks. But it was worth it. It was all worth it.

Holding up her hand, she studied the blisters and scars. That often sharp and frequent pain had just become part of her now, and these new blisters would heal soon enough after she applied the poultices and healing magics. The water's magic wasn't enough to fully counter the power and strength of the fire's magic. She smiled.

Soon.

"Are you enjoying this afternoon?" a male voice asked from behind her.

Nataja turned, startled and annoyed. A small man with chestnut hair and an abundance of freckles splashed across his face stood just beyond the largest of the five boulders that surrounded the cooling pool. He had a walking stick that had been polished along the upper third and had an eye hook on the top. From this hung half a dozen feathers and a collection of various claws. For a moment, her vision blurred again. The overlay appeared, far more severe this time. He looked nearly three times larger for a moment, his skin and face and dimensions all wrong for what he was. She blinked the haze away, and it was gone. The man before her, perhaps in his late twenties, early thirties, looked as he should.

The pause had become awkward. The man's cheeks flushed as she continued to stare at him. "Am I interrupting?"

Nataja arched her eyebrow. "I am bathing. What do you think?"

"My apologies." The man's face flushed appropriately, but he did not turn away.

Nataja stared straight at him. "You seem unaware of the proper action. It's simple. You go."

"What are you doing in this place so far from civilization?" The man looped his arm on one of the nubs of his walking staff.

Nataja narrowed her eyes at him. "This is not the proper response. Leave."

A smirk twisted the corners of his mouth. The laughter that escaped him was half amused, half patronizing. "I don't recommend you make threats you can't make good on, human."

Human? Nataja's eyebrow lifted higher. What was he then? It was easy to see what he was not. Not a dwarf. Too tall and slim. Not a Dragonkind. Too small and wrong skin. Not an Aquat. No gills or fins. Clearly not an orc. Certainly not a Zerlanian. There was no way he had wings. Definitely not an otran or a gryphon. So what did that leave? An elf or a human. Either way she didn't care. "I can make good on all my threats," she said. But she didn't want to rise from the waters. After so long in the heat and such intense practice in magic, her body begged for rest. "Go before I must."

The man shook his head. His mass of loose chestnut hair half covered his eyes, and through that shock, she saw the cruelty of that smirk intensifying. "Are you something of note? I find that hard to believe. Look at you. What if I were a predator? You'd be —"

Nataja flicked her wrist at him. A bolt of white light shot from her hand. She'd mastered the energy bolt when she was thirteen, was now capable of summoning it from air and using no words and simply by making the gesture. The bolt nicked the top of his walking staff. Then it fizzled out, leaving a scent like black powder and ash.

The smile on the man's face twisted sharper. "Oh...how cute. An energy bolt. I could send that out without words when I was six."

Nataja bit back an indignant response that that was obviously a lie. No one let their children practice magic at such a young age. Nothing more than the basics. Tying shoes, pulling weeds, and such. But that wasn't the issue. What was the issue was that he was still here.

"Such weak magics are why you humans will eventually die out," the man said. He tapped his staff and flicked off the ash. "Pathetic. Then again...what did I expect from a commoner?" He drew his fingers through the air, creating a palm sized ball that hovered about his palm. It began shifting in color from pale blue to shining gold to rippling green.

Rage boiled inside Nataja. She stood, water splashing up and running off her arms in massive rivulets. "I am of the Factor —" She caught herself before she revealed the name. Factor Phoenix was technically illegal. "Factor Siren," she said. That had been true. Until she and the other nine members of various factors had agreed to go in secret to learn the secret of fire magics. The forbidden secrets guarded under pain of death by the Dragonkind.

"A factor sorcerer. Oooh. I hope you're up here in the mountains for punishment due to insufficient skill and poor execution." The man laughed. He slung his staff over his shoulder and paced around the boulder. "What other purpose could there be for you? I —"

Nataja twisted her hands around, tracing a circle in the air and snapping, "Emerald. Thirteen. Quadrant. Gecko."

A noose of light flung from the air and twisted around the man's neck. He fell back. The noose did not change colors.

That was a human response. Somehow that made it worse. How dare he speak to her in that manner. The Factors were to be the most revered, second only, if that, to the Lines. Marlok would have taken his tongue. Shilanna would have killed him. Siastro would have found something imaginative. But all Nataja wanted to do was thresh the ever loving magic out of him and send him limping back to wherever he came from.

Before he could rise, Nataja summoned three more incantations. She swiped his feet out from under him, shot an energy bolt into his hand, and nailed him with a rock to the chest.

Staggering back, fists clenched about his walking stick, he cast her a look so strange she couldn't interpret it. It wasn't fear. It wasn't surprise. It was...

Before she could find the appropriate thought, he traced a diagonal line through the air. That was all. Then red energy with blue veins shot at her. She barely managed to duck to the side. What was that? She'd never seen such a thing!

With three quick flicks of her wrist, she sent a rapid series of bolts at him. Two caught him in the shoulder. He fell back, but not after forming spell with a motion so fast his hands blurred. The energy hit her left arm. Her right arm was stiff from the healing blisters. Though it took more energy, Nataja chose the verbal incantation shorthand. "Culano." Another bolt shot out. It struck him in the chest.

For a moment, he staggered, almost breathless. Nataja pounced and struck him to the ground. For half a moment, it occurred to her that his chest felt wrong. As if it was bigger than he was. But she thrust that thought aside, seized his staff, cast it away, then thrust her thumb to his forehead. "You will forget that you have seen me. That you came to this place. And you will walk to the south until you can walk no more." There was just enough dust to finish this final conjuring. "Grilsam no delot mirrase du cormali, huo ferrnot." As she did, she impressed through her mind the shortened sequence of the magic that she could one day use when she had mastered this spell sufficiently: Gryphon. Eight. Triangle. Antelope.

The spell completed. She rose with all the dignity she could muster, tore off his pouch of magic, and stepped back. Her head swam and a wave of raw pain washed over her, but she would watch him leave.

The stranger slowly rose. He pushed himself up, his gaze fixed straight ahead, his pupils dilated to massive black orbs. He lifted one booted foot, stepped forward, then the next.

Nataja, still dripping, her hands and arms bleeding, her blisters torn, stared after the stranger. He walked with a hitching pace. Soon he disappeared over one of the last terraces, presumably to take the path down to the valley. It would take him most of the night to reach the end of the incantation. Nothing would harm him though. He'd wake up, feeling foolish, dazed, and uneasy.

Oddly enough, that was how she felt. Her skin crawled. Twilight had lengthened the shadows all about, and the smoke from the volcano now disappeared in the blackening sky. She suddenly regretted being out so long.

It was childish to be so afraid. But the prickling of fear, as if hundreds of unfriendly eyes watched, was suddenly so clear she didn't know how she could have missed it.

Turning, she started back toward the hidden entrance. It was all right, she told herself. Even if there was someone out there, the magic would hide her long before she reached the actual entrance. She —

Stopping short, she felt her blood chill. The pouch of magic. She looked down at her hand. There it was, a beautifully beaded pouch with all manner of power inside. What if someone had woven incantations into the beads themselves? The stranger had used some unknown magic. It was possible that these beads were the sort of thing that could pierce their barrier or perhaps even the fabric of the pouch itself.

Better to be safe than sorry. She hid the pouch in some of the scraggly bushes that clung to the western face of the mountain. A few of the beads snapped free of their threads and rolled off.

Somehow that unnerved her more. She could hear each little roll and the disturbance of each rock and clump of silt. Stop being silly, she told herself.

But the sensation was more powerful now. It took all her strength to not run straight toward the welcoming entrance of the home she shared with the other members of Factor Phoenix. Three humble slabs of rock and a magical door to protect them from the world.

Her pace quickened and her legs throbbing, she hurried up the mountainside. More rock and silt fell with each step. Sometimes it was loud, too loud for it to be just her, but she saw no one. Her revelation spell revealed nothing. It was no more than nerves. Paranoia might be a side effect of too much time spent in the lava vents.

She reached the last crest. Yes! She breathed deeper. The welcoming darkness would soon embrace her, and she would be safer than ever. But she had to look back just once more, just to reassure herself that she had been foolish.

The mountain landscape was utterly barren. Even though her vision blurred into double at points, it was empty, a staggered mass of rock, low brush, and ash-grey silt. Just as it should be.

She turned. Then jumped with a startled shriek.

The chestnut-haired man stood just in front of the door. He said nothing, only smirked, that same awful smile as before.

"Wh —" Nataja started.

As if in response, the man's image flickered. Once more he appeared double. But this time the double remained and strengthened like an image coming into focus. And suddenly she knew what she was looking at. "Kardo..." He stood before her, scales tattooed on his neck and muscled arms, one scale for each important person he'd killed. And now that she could see him, she realized that there dozens more of his followers all around her, all armed, bearing torches, swords, clubs, pikes, and chains. The camouflage spell he had used was more powerful than anything she had seen.

"You can't be here," she stammered. "The spells —"

"Can be broken if the wrong something is brought in, and you brought it." Kardo nodded toward her waist.

Nataja looked down. She hadn't noticed that some of the beads from the pouch of magic had snapped off and fallen into her soggy sash. They glittered even without the light, mocking her. All of this had been a trap. And she had played right into it.

"I heard rumors that there was a small group of humans who would dare seek the powers of fire magic despite its being forbidden," Kardo said. "I do hope that's not true. For your sakes."

"I..." Nataja searched for words. She sent the alarm from her mind to Marlok and the others, praying that this new magic wouldn't disrupt it. "You can't believe everything you hear."

"No. But I'm in the mood for mayhem regardless. And I'd love to see what you humans have been up to." Kardo chuckled darkly, and, with one gesture of his hand, the three stones and the magical door fell away, revealing the hidden chambers of Factor Phoenix.

Host's Note: These have been the ten stories of Trickery. How did the team do? To show your support, vote on these ten chapters (6.2-6.11) between now and Wednesday 10:30 am EST. That gives you 24 hours. All votes in this day will count toward a special "reader's choice" award for the team with the most star clicks. So tell your friends to check them out and good luck team Trickery!