The river current carried Norwyn and Moss away from the motor and into a long corridor.
“You chose the wrong lord to be loyal to!” Moss cried.
“You chose the wrong one,” Norwyn said.
They floated, feet apart from each other, swimming to try to snap at each other. But the current was strong and they could not break free from the water.
“What’s it like to be an ineffectual henchman?” Norwyn asked.
“You should know!” Moss said, slashing his tail.
“At least I’ve accomplished something these last thousand years.”
They flowed into another corridor. A giant turbine spun at the other end.
The processing center. Magic flowed through the turbines into the center where elves used it to create energy.
Moss didn’t see it yet.
“I have a legacy,” Norwyn said, staring Moss in the eye. “A legacy
