A deckhand rapped on the door to the wizard's chamber. The sorcerer himself mumbled in his sleep. Agrimm stopped pouring over the Ballast Grimoire and answered the door.
“Young sir you really must wake the captain,” the deckhand said. “The Imperial Queen is dropping like a stone. She'll be in the Stormsea before long.”
Agrimm tapped the sorcerer on his shoulder.
“Captain,” he began.
“Get to the armory.” The sorcerer swirled his hands around and carved shapes in the air. A shimmering star engulfed him and the sorcerer vanished.
Agrimm charged past the deckhand and through a few bulkheads. The ship shuddered to life, turning hard starboard and downward.
The Imperial Queen sank through the air. Yellow stones tumbled up into the sky out of wounds on the deck. The crew scurried around the deck either trying to catch the yellow stones or throw other objects overboard. The ship inched toward the screeching, thundering Stormsea.
Agrimm carried a satchel up to his master. The wizard removed a small wand. He drew intricate designs in the air and muttered in a dead language under his breath. A fireball burst through the air and slammed into the Imperial Queen.
The ship shuddered, splinters showering into the Stormsea and more yellow rocks tumbling upward.
“Leave not a man alive!” the sorcerer bellowed, “And a gold lode for the man who brings me the Devil Blade!”
The Imperial Queen's commander hurled icicles through the air. Their impact shook the pirate ship. Agrimm lost his footing.
Agrimm's crewmates boarded the Imperial Queen. The soldiers on board fought back. One pirate charged the commander, but he was too late to stop another icicle barrage.
Agrimm tumbled off the ship and into the Stormsea.

Agrimm's entire body hurt. His gums felt too big for his mouth. His skeleton felt too big for his body. Every time he moved, even to breathe, whatever muscle he was using ached. The worst part was that he couldn't see anything. He tried to open his swollen eyes, but they wouldn't budge.
After a few hours two people began talking. Agrimm couldn't understand what language they were speaking. It certainly wasn't anything spoken in the world above; it was far too guttural.
Rough, sandpaper hands touched his face and a voice spoke softly. The hands moved down to his jaw and gently pulled his mouth open. Someone poured soup into Agrimm's mouth. He struggled to swallow it.
This process repeated itself for a couple days. Gradually, he felt better. His body wasn't as sore and his face swelled less. He awoke one morning and he could finally see that he was inside a tent. He lay on his makeshift mattress and examined the room. The magic bag he brought the master sat next to him.
He heard people talking outside, but there were fewer voices than any city he'd ever been in before. Agrimm pondered what had happened to him. Had he survived a fall through the Stormsea? Had he been rescued by people surviving under the it?
The tent slid apart and a figure walked in. He was covered in craggy green skin, spider-webbed with scars.
Agrimm had heard legends of these strange creatures. They were the bogeymen that populated fairy tales.
It growled something in its arcane language and handed Agrimm a bowl full of mushrooms.
“Don't kill me,” Agrimm muttered.
The ogre said a few words that Agrimm didn't understand and left the tent.
Thoughts shuddered through his mind. What did they want with him? If they were going to kill him why hadn't they already? Was the beast fattening him up?

As night approached the activity outside increased. He could hear the ogres talking about something very important. Eventually all the ogres stopped arguing.
He poked his head out of the front of the tent. The sky was entirely blotted out by the Stormsea, except for a single star near the horizon. He couldn't see much off in the distance, just a vast brown waste in every direction.
A large male ogre watched him while leaning on a spear. It eyed Agrimm. A few females appeared to be across the other side of the village doing something that emitted a low, blue light. A few children ran back and forth across the town playing some kind of game.
Agrimm considered trying to get past his guard, but he knew he wasn't in any condition to run. And where could he run to?
But why would there be a star below the Stormsea?
He returned to the tent. He rifled through the armory bag. Agrimm didn't know how to use many of the artifacts inside, but he recognized the Thunder Staff.
Agrimm stumbled out of the tent. The guard picked up his spear and waved it at him. Agrimm stepped backwards and the guard followed him. Finally, he pointed the staff at the guard and spoke the control phrase.
The staff hurled a bolt of lightening at the guard. It recoiled, flesh burned.
Agrimm trudged in the direction of the star.
The women charged to the commotion. They yelled at Agrimm, but he didn't slow down and they didn't approach him closely. The women followed him, bellowing in their inhuman language. He pointed the staff at them, but they didn't appear bothered.
Agrimm ignored them and limped toward the star.
The village disappeared into the distance and Agrimm continued along at his snail's pace. The ogresses screamed and cried.
A group of male ogres charged in from the horizon dragging a massive beast. Once they heard the group of females they dropped it and charged faster. The ogre that brought him the mushrooms stepped closer to Agrimm, speaking slowly.
Agrimm stopped and threatened the ogre with his Thunder Staff. The ogre either didn't know what it was or didn't care. It stepped closer, still speaking in incomprehensible gibberish.
Agrimm spoke the command word again and blasted the ogre. The lightening knocked him to the ground. The ogre pleaded and begged, crawling closer to Agrimm. It grabbed his magic bag.
The apprentice let go of the bag and stumbled away.
The ogre moaned pitifully. The rest of them surrounded him and carried him back to the village.

Eventually, Agrimm noticed a city under the star.
The muddy waste gave way to rough crab grass and weeds. The plant-life grew denser the closer he got to the star. Soon the crab grass and weeds were replaced with wheat fields.
Agrimm stumbled toward a farmhouse. Two armored guards noticed him and charged. Agrimm stopped and without the forward momentum he had built up, collapsed on the ground.
“Who are you? Why have you come to the King's Glade?” one guard said in a bizarre accent.
“My name is Agrimm Wingfoot, apprentice to the sorcerer-captain of the Coal Black Heart, a privateer vessel out of Caesaron,” he said. “I'm not from around here.”
“Caesaron?” the other guard said, “Come up with a better lie than that. That city was destroyed three-hundred years ago when the Great Storm blotted out the sky.”
“Well,” Agrimm said, “those of us up there thought the same thing about the world down here.”
“Under order of the Wizard King of Skybrite you are being placed in custody until we can determine the authenticity of your story.”

Agrimm spent another week or so in various cells around the outskirts of the city. His injuries healed up almost entirely. He still had a few bruises, but he could move around fine, so long as he was careful.
An old man stepped into the prison block. His skin was stretched over his bones so tightly it looked as if it might tear at any moment. He wore a simple violet robe and steadied himself on a massive, ornate cane.
“Greetings, Agrimm Wingfoot,” the old man said.
“Greetings yourself,” Agrimm said.
“I hear that you have come from the world above. Is that true?”
Agrimm felt a little sick to his stomach. It reminded him of the feeling he had back when the sorcerer-captain interrogated him before he took Agrimm as his apprentice.
“Yes. I was born in the city of Borgon, which is about two days flight south from here. I've worked as a cabin-boy or deck hand on five different sailing vessels. A couple years ago I was captured by a pirate ship, but I managed to escape when they laid anchor at the shanty-town surrounding Caesaron. From there I joined the crew of the Coal Black Heart, under the ship's wizard captain.”
The old man said, “So the world survived above us? Amazing. Almost as amazing as the artificial sun I crafted.”
“You must be that Wizard King that the guards refer to,” Agrimm said.
“That I am,” the King said. “And I've come down here to make you an offer.”
“I assume it'll get me out of this cell?” Agrimm said.
“It'll get you home, provided the statue of Haevectus is still in that open square in Caesaron.” the King said.
“Then you've got a deal. What do you need?”
“Magic,” the King said. “You must feed a flame wood to keep it burning. My sun burns magic. You must already know about the ambient magic in everything, but unfortunately I've spent much of the magic around here, leaving so much smoke and ash.”
“I hate to be the one to break this to you, buddy, but I fell from the sky a week ago. I have no idea where to find artifacts powerful enough to keep your sun burning,” Agrimm said.
“The shamans of the ogre tribes around here keep many magical items. For the most part they don't even understand how to use them, stupid bloody savages, but they still hold onto them. I've tried to trade for them in the past.”
Agrimm said, “So you want me to what? Run in and massacre them? You do realize I'm a wizard's apprentice, right? I barely know how to ball up my fist and punch somebody.”
“That's why I need you. I'm the only wizard left down here, and I can't get too far away from my sun,” the King said. “I need someone to pick between the runes of mythical significance and the shiny rocks.”
“I can do that,” said Agrimm.
“A group of my guards will be along shortly to pick you up.”
The wizard king walked off down the hallway. Agrimm went to the back of his cell and leaned on the back wall.
A few minutes later, a guard walked up to Agrimm's cell. He unlocked the door and swung it open.
“Let's get your gear.”
Agrimm walked over to him and the massive guard grabbed him by the shoulder and dragged him out. He carried Agrimm through a few hallways, up a staircase, and through a few more hallways and finally into an armory.
“The king said that you must wield this,” the guard said, handing Agrimm a knife with small gem stones built into the handle.
Agrimm felt magic prickle his hand and he wondered what secret purpose the knife held.

Four guards escorted Agrimm out of the prison to the stables and away from the city. The sun faded as they trudged off into the wilderness.
One of the guards rode up next to Agrimm and said, “Am I right in thinking this mission has something to do with fueling our sun?”
“I think the fewer people that know exactly what we're doing out here the better,” Agrimm said.
“I just remember when I was a child,” the guard said, “the sun burned twice as bright as it does today. It cast its light twice as far as it does today. How much longer before it can't light a single room?”
“Well, I've only been down here a few days so I don't have any idea,” said Agrimm.
Still, he thought about the issue. Could a bunch of glorified magical trinkets really power an artificial sun for very long?

After a couple hours they came to the remains of the ogre camp.
The ogres were long gone. You could see where their tents had previously been and where they’d started their campfires. A few animal carcases lay nearby but nothing else. Trails carved off through the sand in a dozen directions away from the camp, even so Agrimm felt some strange compulsion to check through the sand.
Almost instantly Agrimm found an ivory broach. He recognized it as one of his magical implements. His wizard-captain used it to control the wind.
Agrimm said, “They went this direction.”
One of the guards said, “Will all due respect, sir, there's no trail leading in that direction.”
Agrimm said, “Ogres aren't dumb animals.”
The guards murmured among themselves but they didn't push the matter. Once Agrimm got back on his horse and began riding into the wilderness they followed. They passed over the wilderness until the city's star began burning brighter once more. In the dawn light they noticed a plume of smoke poking up into the sky. They followed it.
Soon he could make out the basic shapes of a few tents near the smoke. They neared the village.
Two ogre guards noticed them and disappeared into a tent. The ogre chief followed them out, leaning on his staff as a torch. The women ogres charged out of the village in the opposite direction, carrying the whelms on their shoulders.
Agrimm jumped down off his horse and pointed at the staff.
The ogre chief growled. One of the guards disappeared into another tent and returned with Agrimm's bag. He handed it to Agrimm.
Agrimm pointed at the chief's staff again.
The chief stared blankly.
Agrimm pulled the knife out of his belt. The handle burned his palm and the pain spread out, crystallizing along his nerves. The chief's lack of understanding filled Agrimm with rage. He pulled the broach and touched it to the knife. Energy crackled between them.
He recited as much of the wind control spell as he could remember, stopping after each word to try and remember the next. He wanted to reach out with the knife and slash the chief's throat. Even so, a logical shard of his personality reasoned that he could more easily get the magic items with a display of magical power.
The temperature dropped thirty degrees. Snowflakes tumbled out of the sky. The snowflakes grew until they were fist-sized hailstones and the wind picked up enough to topple one of the ogre's tents.
The chief understood. He grunted out orders and placed his staff on the ground. The other ogres went through the tents, returning with spears or old rusty knives or shiny rocks.
“There,” said Agrimm, “We've just completed the mission without endangering ourselves.”
One guard smiled, but the rest were uneasy. They loaded the artifacts into their saddlebags and started back toward Skybrite.

As they approached the city gates a gate keeper noticed them and ran off to get a courier, who then ran off toward the central tower.
When the guards and Agrimm made it to the gate it swung open. People massed around the street leading to the tower. Agrimm had never felt like a hero in his entire life. The cheering built up a small angry lump in his stomach.
They found the wizard king waiting in front of the tower.
His voice boomed out across the city, “Hail! Hail our savior! With him he brings the fuel to keep our city burning for many years yet.”
Agrimm and the guards stopped in front of the tower. Agrimm climbed off his horse.
“Do you have the artifacts that I sent you to get?”
“Indeed,” said Agrimm, “They're loaded up on the horses.”
“And the sacred Blood Dagger?” the wizard king said.
“Right here.”
Agrimm pulled it out of his belt and held the handle toward the king. The king snatched it up, but was overcome by something, tumbling backward. He regained his composure and said, “The Blood Dagger is drained.”
Agrimm said, “I used its power to fuel a spell to trick the savages into giving me their artifacts without any loss of life at all.”
The Wizard King stared for a long moment before he finally said, “Your ingenuity is impressive.”
He slowly clapped. The crowd assembled darted their eyes around and stared at each other. A few took the Wizard King's lead and joined in the applause and the rest of the crowd gradually joined them. The Wizard King stopped clapping and almost instantly the entire crowd followed his lead.
“These magical artifacts that you've commandeered from the savages will ensure our survival here for years to come,” the Wizard King said, almost sounding hollow. “Guards, bring the outsider to my chamber for his reward.”
Agrimm heard something sinister lingering in the Wizard King's voice. The Wizard King placed his hand on Agrimm's shoulder and sent a chill through his spine.
Agrimm grabbed the Wizard King's other hand and jammed the sacrificial dagger into his throat.
The Wizard King tried to pull the blade out, but he was too weak. Agrimm slammed him into the ground with a stomp and tore the dagger free. Black oil oozed out of the King's wound.
People in the crowd murmured. The guards watched each other and tried to decide what to do. A skinny man in sackcloth ran toward the tower. When the guards tried to stop him the assembled crowd began throwing whatever they had in their hands. Agrimm took this opportunity to duck into the tower.
The guards charged the rioting mass.
Agrimm stumbled up flight after flight of stairs that circled around the outside of the tower.
The yelling and screaming grew louder, even though Agrimm was further from it with every step.
Finally, he reached the upper sanctum. The area burned with magical force. It almost overwhelmed him after he stepped into the room, but he persevered. He let himself collapse in a chair in front of a desk covered in notebooks.
He ran his eyes over the books. The notes were scrawled with notes... so many ogres equaled so many hours of light. So many humans equaled so many hours of light. Agrimm pulled out the knife. It once again throbbed with arcane power.
Agrimm carried himself over to another desk and looked over the notes covering it. The notes were written in some language he hadn't ever seen before, but he recognized repeated references to the name Haevectus. Three incantations written in a more typical magic language followed that.
He heard armored men clamoring up the stairs, their armor clinking against the stone steps and walls. They were in an awful hurry.
Agrimm picked one of the incantations and recited it. He held the knife above his head. It filled with weight and an ache split out from it and down his arm.
A guard poked his head into the room.
Agrimm vanished in a swirl of light.

Agrimm woke in a proper bed in some kind of stone building. Through the window he could see the bright blue sky. He heard people outside chatting, negotiating trades, flirting... If nothing else, he had returned to the world above. His legs were wrapped in tight braces and other parts of his body covered in bandages.
A nurse checked in on him. He smiled at her, but she immediately charged out of the room.
A tall man walked into the infirmary a few minutes later.
“Who are you?” said the tall man.
“Where am I?” Agrimm asked.
“I expect you're a bit disoriented. We're at Caesaron's Royal Infirmary,” the tall man said. “You were discovered at the foot of the Titan Haevectus. According to the couple who dragged you here, you fell from the sky.”
“I'm a wizard's apprentice,” Agrimm said.
“Whose apprentice are you? What are you, some kind of privateer? A pirate? Where did you get this knife?”
The tall man held up the sacrificial dagger.
“I'm not a privateer, whatever that is,” Agrimm said. “I was an apprentice in the city of Skybrite.”
“I've never heard of it, I'm afraid. I'm more interested in finding out how you got a Tyrish Sacrifice Knife. They're very powerful magical artifacts... only three are known to exist and this isn't one we know about.”
“It's my master's. He sent me out to fill it with ogre-blood so that I could power our sun. Can you tell me what's going on? And where are the clouds? Why is the sky blue?”
The tall man shuddered at the word “ogre”.
Agrimm thought about the possibilities. He could certainly flesh out the details enough for the royal guard to buy his story. No more risking his neck on privateer vessels flying the skyways between the archipelago peaks. No more raiding weak merchants and casting them overboard into the Stormsea.
Agrimm smiled.
“I think that's enough for today. I will return tomorrow with a diplomatic envoy. We will have many questions for you about the world below.”

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