<div>


    <div>


    <div>


    FORTY-THREE


    <h2 style="text-transform: uppercase">SARIEN</h2>


    <div>


    Sarien stepped through the gateway first, after taking a considerable amount of power from Taera. Even with her permission, draining her proved more difficult than he’d thought. There was a different quality to it than when he took from the Wayfarers.


    He emerged in the empty throne room. The once ornate room was now filled with rows of benches, all covered in a fine layer of dust. The throne was gone, shattered into pieces strewn across the floor. Sarien wondered if it was the handiwork of the rhinn or the rebels. In the end, it mattered little.


    “Where is everyone?” Emeryn asked, having emerged from Sarien’s gateway.


    An outpouring of growers forced everyone to keep moving forward, and Tomford pushed the heavy doors to the throne room open and peeked out. “Empty. They must all be busy fighting.”


    “Where do we go?” a young grower asked, her eyes intent on Sarien. This one wanted to fight.


    Sarien looked to Emeryn. This was her people, her decision.


    “Those of you who wish to fight may join me. We’ll go where the situation is most dire.” She smiled to herself and spoke in a much lower voice. “If I’m not mistaken, that’s where we’ll find my husband, too.”


    “Are there any growers who do not wish to fight?” Sarien asked.


    A good third of those gathered raised their hand into the air. As luck would have it, they came upon several men and women in the corridors, and one was able to direct them to those in charge. One of the older growers, a woman with a full head of white hair and a crooked back, took charge of those who did not wish to fight. Sarien reasoned that the Council would know best what to do with them.


    Emeryn nodded to Sarien before disappearing with her force of growers. Tomford followed, but Wade pointed up to the ceiling. “I’ll find the greatest tower and take to the skies. Good luck down here, you bastards!”


    With that, he disappeared, carrying a cloth sack full of parts for his flying apparatus.


    Heradion shouted after him, “Perhaps I’ll get a chance to see you crash yet, aeromancer!”


    “Screw you, old man!” Wade’s reply echoed back to them.


    “Where are your people in all this?” Ein asked, throwing a surly glare Heradion’s way.


    The old man adopted his most placid expression. “We are a peace-loving kind who prefer to stay out of harm’s way.”


    Sarien’s father poked Heradion in the chest. “Knock that off, old man.”


    “Well, what do you want me to say? I haven’t been home, as you’re well aware. For all I know, they’re all dead.”


    “Who are your people?” Sarien asked as he set them to walking. The travelers weren’t far.


    “The Chosen, guardians of the worlds.”


    “Really?”


    “No, you stupid little shit. Have you learned nothing?” Heradion asked, stopping. “You know what? I just remembered that I have an errand to run. I’ll catch up to you two later. Try to stay out of trouble, Ein.” He winked and then disappeared into thin air before their eyes.


    “Wait,” Sarien said. “He’s a Halvgud?”


    Ein scratched his beard and shook his head in irritation. “Juoko is not very forthcoming. I know that much.”


    “As opposed to some people I know,” Sarien said, hurrying his steps.


    His father followed, favoring his left side and dragging his right leg a little.


    “You’re injured. Why didn’t you let Tomford heal you?”


    Ein waved it away. “It’s nothing. The healer needs to conserve his energy. He’ll need it shortly.”


    “You’re as stubborn as Ben.”


    “You should see your mother. She’s far worse.”


    They stood in silence for a moment as Sarien determined the best route to the Wayfarers. Ein grabbed a seat on a bench. “Why don’t you go on without me? I’ll rest a little and then catch up.”


    “Are you sure?”


    “Just be careful, son.”


    “I will.”


    Sarien walked the grounds alone. It was an eerie sensation to find the interior of the castle abandoned. He quickened his footsteps.


    He found the main courtyard. It was filled with people hurrying about, bandaging those injured. He walked through the makeshift hospital.


    The rhinn travelers were situated deep within the protective inner walls of the keep for their safety. He felt their efforts tugging at the very air around him. They neared their limits. He knew this, and he could not help them. Not yet. Still, he needed to make sure they would keep going for a little longer.


    The keep was positioned on a hill, elevated slightly above the city proper. Sarien was not high up enough to see Wyndemir’s hand, but in the distance, he saw the arm extending from the massive gateway in the sky. The fingers of his other hand wrapped around the rim of the gateway, as if trying to physically pull it open.


    The rhythmic thumping from a blacksmith’s anvil caught his ear. One of those sources of sound stood out above the others. Louder, steadier. It couldn’t be.


    “Sarien, you’re back!” Mohalim shouted to be heard over the thunderous sound of hammers on steel.


    “Mohalim!”


    The smith wiped his sweaty face with a dirty rag, then ushered Sarien out of the smithy. “How is your father, then?”


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    “He’s well,” Sarien said without thinking.


    The smith nodded. “Good, good. And Juoko?”


    “Last I saw him. Someday you’ll need to tell me how you were mixed up in their dealings,” Sarien said.


    Mohalim chuckled. “One day, perhaps.” He then looked around and narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t bring that spear of yours?”


    “Afraid not.”


    “You know, I’ve been thinking about what you did to it. If you’re up to it, I think I could improve upon it. With your help, of course.”


    “Oh?”


    The smith’s eyes glittered.


    He’d kept a spear at the ready, finely worked metal that was long and narrow with a single pointed blade.


    Mohalim reheated it and Sarien imbued the metal with pure Order. When the time came, Sarien drew Anea from her void prison and forced her into the weapon. He realized belatedly that moving Anea could have created a devastating shockwave. Thankfully, it did not occur.


    The spear was only a little taller than Sarien himself and solid gray like his flame. It was light in his hands and when he thrusted forward in the practiced motion taught to him by Slakt, the captain of Hart’s guards, the air before it rippled.


    Mohalim whistled. “What did you keep in that little box of yours, lad?”


    “Anea,” Sarien said, suppressing the Halvgud’s wild screams.


    The smith swallowed nervously and stepped back. “Best be on your way now. If you’re ever looking to experiment with creating more weapons or armor, just follow the sounds of my hammer.”


    “Right. Thank you.”


    When Sarien arrived to where the rhinn travelers were stationed to hold back Wyndemir’s approach, he discovered them in a sorry state. Several were unconscious, having collapsed where they sat. Those still seated were exhausted. But worst of all was a familiar face slumped against a low wall.


    “Lana!” he shouted, hurrying over.


    Several rhinn travelers looked up at hearing his voice. A few pointed, one shouted for him to help. Sarien raised his hands to them, asking for calm. “Your burden is almost over. Just a little longer now!”


    “Hey, you,” Lana said, opening her eyes.


    He nodded to Thys, who stood beside her, arms folded and eyes flitting back and forth between the travelers and the gaps between houses, scanning for threats. “Thys.”


    Thys nodded back. “Sarien.”


    “You look terrible,” Sarien said, going down to one knee in front of Lana. “What happened?”


    “Oh, you know. War.”


    “Right.”


    “It’s not as bad as it looks. Got some help from some kid before he suddenly ran off.”


    “You’re half-dead,” Thys grunted. “Unfortunately, the Vatner healers all fell unconscious from the strain.”


    Lana shushed him. “So, you’re back to deal with the hand?”


    “I am. A lot has happened. Here too, I take it?”


    “Some.”


    “I need a favor,” Sarien said.


    Lana groaned. “Another one?”


    “Can you walk? Emeryn, Wade, and Heradion are back. Tomford too.”


    “Tomford?” she asked, straining to look up at Thys.


    “Where?” Thys demanded.


    “They were heading into the thick of it. I’m sure that tall Vatner will stand out in the crowd.”


    “We’ll find him,” Thys said.


    Lana’s eyes shone and sparked with life. “What do you need from us, Sarien?”


    “The real enemy is the priests of Wyndemir and a bunch of Wayfarers in white robes and masks. I need them gone.”


    “We’ll take care of it,” Lana said, stumbling to her feet. She collapsed on a groan.


    Thys bent down and picked her up, throwing her over his shoulder.


    “Hey!” Lana shouted, then let out a pained grunt.


    “Quiet you,” Thys said to Lana, then turned to Sarien. “Priests and mages, nothing we haven’t dealt with before.”


    “Be careful. They’re powerful.”


    Thys nodded and then set off toward the main gate. Lana shouted. “See you when this is all done! Go kill Wyndemir!”


    Sarien turned his attention to the rhinn travelers. All of them stared at him expectantly, exhaustion and hope plain on their faces. Mingled was determination and grit. Sarien was proud of them and their efforts.


    He spoke up. “You have performed amazingly well in my absence, and you have my gratitude for it. I have returned to end this once and for all.”


    In one way or another, it was coming to an end. Sarien wished he was confident on the outcome. It took everything in him to hide his true emotions from showing. At least he hoped his expression did not mirror his inner turmoil.


    “Have you seen any young men and women dressed in white?”


    They looked at one another in obvious confusion, then shook their heads. “No,” someone said.


    “The pressure is mounting. We can’t hold on much longer!” someone shouted, and then a chorus of lamenting voices rose.


    Sarien couldn’t help but look around, as if thinking he could spot the Wayfarers somewhere. Kax said he sent them on their way. They should be here.


    “Hold on, I’ll be right back,” Sarien said. He sat down and closed his eyes, embracing his gray flame. Opening a gateway by himself this close to Wyndemir would drain his reserves, but drifting through the wayfaring in search of missing students was doable. It didn’t take long for his wandering mind to find them. Hundreds of Wayfarer students’ consciousnesses crowded outside Maydian, unable to pass through.


    They faced a single consciousness. He didn’t know who, but deduced it was one of the council members.


    Frustrated, Sarien pushed the other consciousness out of the wayfaring, depositing them back in Nexus. Removing the obstacle allowed the students to pass into Sarien’s world and he funneled them to his location before exiting himself.


    Sarien opened his eyes as a pile of screaming, white-clad students tumbled out of the wayfaring. The rhinn travelers drew back in fear.


    He spoke to the new arrivals. “Thank you for coming. You’re sorely needed.”


    Freja, the female student he met in Nexus, grunted and put her hands to her head. “What is this? What’s happening here?”


    Sarien pointed to Wyndemir’s arm.


    “Oh.”


    “You need to lend your strength to the collective power of these mages from Rhinerien. Their power differs from yours, but you should have no problem joining them together.”


    “Lend our power? How?” someone asked.


    Sarien showed them, then urged Freja to be the first to join. Chris, the one with the nasal voice, didn’t wait for her to finish before jumping in.


    He let out a yelp and went down to one knee. “It’s like carrying a mountain.”


    “How have they been able to withstand this?”


    The rhinn straightened a little at her words.


    More and more of the Wayfarer students joined in, lightening the collective burden as the Eldian guards looked on, wide-eyed. The rhinn breathed a sigh of relief.


    “How long have they been at this?” Chris asked.


    “I honestly don’t know,” Sarien answered truthfully. “Moving between worlds is messing a little with my sense of time.”


    “Fair enough. How much longer will we need to keep this going?”


    Sarien looked out across the city to Wyndemir’s arm. It was pounding the ground and swinging at Fyrie’s wall, scattering the defenders like flies.


    He repeated the sentiment he’d instilled in the rhinn travelers earlier. “Not long. This will all end soon.”


    Daisy popped out in front of him as he hurried over to Wyndemir’s arm. She fell in a heap, grunting and speaking in a language he couldn’t understand.


    “Daisy!”


    She quieted, both her clothes and hair were covered in mud. “Sarien?”


    “Daisy, what’s wrong? I thought you couldn’t be here.”


    Her head jerked to the side, and she grimaced, then shivered and gritted her teeth.


    “I can’t,” she said. “Not for long. He’s pulling on me.”


    “Then go! Protect yourself!”


    She shook her head violently, slinging mud in all directions. “The Prime is almost through!”


    “It’s fine. I found the Wayfarer students and they’re helping the travelers.”


    “No, it won’t be enough! It’s almost time. I can feel father’s excitement in my entire body.” She stood, hugging herself, then bent over, as if someone had punched her in the stomach. “It won’t be long now. You have to do something!”


    The space crackled around her, twisting on itself.


    “Stop him!” she shouted, then jerked her head to the right and held out her right hand, palm forward, as if to hold something at bay. “No!”


    She blinked away, leaving Sarien alone.