《The Individual's Kingdom》 01 - A Sky Stained Orange ¡°¡­I will repeat myself, once,¡± said the man in the neatly pressed charcoal-colored uniform coat. His combed-back hair was dark as night, his bright blue eyes shone like morning frost. He held something in one hand, a strange metallic device with a curved wooden handle and a long, hollow metal tube facing outward. ¡°Answer my questions,¡± he said coldly. ¡°Clearly. Concisely. No slurring, no mumbling. Obey, and I will guarantee your safety. Disobey, and I will have no choice but to use this. Understand?¡± Presumably, the other man, standing across the room and facing the coated man, nodded. Of course, it was impossible to tell for sure. As for what he looked like, what he was wearing¡­ Well, it wouldn¡¯t matter in a moment. Best forgotten. ¡°Good.¡± The black-coated man breathed deeply, suppressing barely-concealed impatience. ¡°Again. How many people live here?¡± ¡°Three,¡± the other man said. The charcoal-coated interrogator lifted an arm. The two men facing each other were suddenly flanked by numerous figures in dark uniforms and heavy black leather boots that thumped away through the home, into kitchen and study and washroom, up wooden stairs creaking underneath the weight. Then all fell silent, save for the occasional skyward groan of a floorboard. ¡°Who are they?¡± the charcoal-coated man demanded, waving his free hand at what he saw behind the other man¡ª what would probably be two frightened, huddled masses. It was, again, impossible to tell for certain from here. ¡°Family,¡± the other man, the father, answered. ¡°My wife and son.¡± ¡°Job?¡± ¡°I¡¯m a fisherman. My boat is docked down at the Falls,¡± he said slowly. ¡°My wife is a tailor. She works at¡ª¡± ¡°Any other relatives?¡± the man asked sharply, cutting him off. The father paused. ¡°Not anymore,¡± he said grimly. ¡°I see,¡± the charcoal-coated man said. The apathy was plain in his voice. It meant nothing to him. Apparently, that was the last question. An oppressive silence fell over the room, save for the rifling of a coat pocket, twice, then the harsh flick of a match lit. The orange flame danced, casting eerie shadows upon the walls in the almost-darkness. The tip of the coated man¡¯s cigarette glowed faintly red as the seconds dragged on. The lights were off, now. Stupid fool. Stupid, stupid Flock-galed fool. The thumping, then the men themselves, returned abruptly¡ª prompting the man in the coat to pull the cigarette from his mouth. He turned toward one man in particular, a taller man he had to look up at. And nearly saw. Fear and panic thrummed. A heart thumped loudly. Too loudly. Could it be heard? ¡°All clear, sir,¡± the tall uniformed man said. ¡°Not yet,¡± the charcoal-coated man said, dark smoke billowing from his lips. Those glassy blue eyes did not see what they should not. He replaced the cigarette and turned back toward the family, three figures clutching each other tightly, as if they sought warmth. Perhaps they did. Those eyes seemed as if they could freeze the room solid. ¡°Step right,¡± he grunted through clenched teeth. The family obeyed swiftly, shuffling to the side. A feeling of dread completely blew away the smell of tobacco as the man approached a rather large cabinet. He tried its door¡ª locked. No need for a key. Not this man. If he wanted something¡­ The charcoal-coated man applied a bit of force, bending and crunching polished wood. He ripped the door away, exposing expensive innards. The cabinet shook, freeing ornate ceramic and glass wares from stacked shelves inside. Treasures to some, they broke into shards. The shattered objects at his feet were of no interest to the charcoal-coated man, and¡ª after carefully eyeing up and down¡ª neither was the cabinet itself. It was not a show of strength, the furniture was simply delicate. And in his way. He set the broken door on the carpeted floor, sighing with a hint of disappointment. He sought the lie, smelled it in the air. The man spun sharply, blasting his long-backed coat with deceptive smoky air. ¡°Follow,¡± he commanded. He thumped toward the entrance and flicked the cigarette behind him. ¡°Stay quiet.¡± Heat flooded the room as an orange light raced across the carpet. The man, charcoal-colored coat illuminated, reached for the door¡­ ¡°Dad¡­?¡± asked a quivering voice. ¡°Why are they doing this?¡± The room froze, defying the flames. Time grew still. ¡°Scold him.¡± The meaning of those words was crystal clear: there will be no tolerance for talkative children. Not a shred. At least, it sounded clear to the one who spoke. ¡°Even if you tell us to stay silent,¡± the father protested, voice rising, ¡°How can you expect a boy his age to understa¡ª¡± A firecracker sounded. Firecracker? Really? Oh, of course. It¡¯s the festival. The father sobbed a name, desperately calling out to her between anguished gasps. She fell into his arms, still. That horrible, charcoal-coated creature¡ª for he could not possibly be human¡ª barked something incomprehensible, dusting off his coat. Orders. Who could listen to orders, at a time like this? What was her name, anyway? What was his? Obedient nameless peons moved in to collect the father. He had sunken to his knees. He was cruelly ripped from the lifeless woman and restrained, head pressed to the ground as they tied his arms behind his back. The coated monster stared down at the man like a bird of prey observing a mouse¡ª blue eyes cold as winter ice, a trace of amusement curving his lips. He spoke. I suppose it doesn¡¯t matter. I only need to remember one thing, after all. The room began to warp and twist. The heat intensified. Heat so terrible, searing skin and bone. Searing his soul down to ash and cinders. Did he remember? That face. Those eyes. Haunting him. Yes. Those eyes, he would remember forever. The door to the orange sky¡­ to the burning city¡­ swung open. Thickening smoke solidified into dark gray walls as Luke Nixus opened his eyes, ending another night. A second firecracker confirmed his suspicions. The morning racket stemmed from a nearby celebrator of the Empire¡¯s birth. But, he realized, this isn¡¯t Aetas Origo. It was time to get up, regardless. He had come to this place for a reason. He lazily stretched a pale hand over to a wooden nightstand, switching off an alarm clock. It was mere moments from ringing, according to the silvery hands. Luke felt as though those minutes were vital, that the firecrackers had cost him something precious. Luke sat up, trying to ignore the unruly barrage of sound in the distance. Immediately, black curls obstructed his vision. He brushed them back with a hand absentmindedly as he reached down beside the bed. He fished up a large cylindrical bag, letting it thump onto the white bedsheet. He brushed his hair aside again with a yawn¡ª once more it fell back into place right away¡ª and unclasped the bag. The firecrackers continued in their obnoxious way. Who would have thought burning bamboo could create such awful noise? This isn¡¯t any city in Sirius. Flocks, I¡¯m not even in the Empire anymore, Luke thought with a scowl. People in the neutral territory are this enthusiastic? As if in response to Luke¡¯s frustration, the early morning disruptions finally ceased, allowing him to stand and slip on a white woolen shirt in blissful silence. A pair of gray trousers followed, rounding off the intended look of ¡®ordinary.¡¯ He strived for a plain appearance; it was all he could do to offset his eyes. Those bring enough stares. No need to attract even more attention. He slid his feet into a plain pair of leather traveling boots and grabbed one final article of clothing¡ª a sky blue jacket¡ª and threw it over his shirt. Before clasping the bag back up, Luke eyed a certain photograph nestled inside. His face turned somber, just for a moment. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. Of course I remember. I don¡¯t need dreams to remind me. He slung the dark blue bag over his shoulder by its strap and left the inn. ¡ª¡ª¡ª Luke strode into the middle of the empty cobblestone street and stopped, open sky blue jacket shifting in the wind. It was a pleasant feeling, walking about in the open like this. It was quiet now that the firecrackers had stopped, the only thing he could hear were morning songbirds. He slipped a map from his pocket and began a slow, unsure walk as he read. His objective in this village was simple. Safe passage north through the neutral territory¡ª a thin strip of highlands in central Asundria, eastern edge bordered by the Cliffs. In days past, the neutral territory¡ª and beyond, to the west¡ª was a larger, grander country known as Altair. But such days were dead and gone. Today was the First Day of the Ninth Year. Already, nine whole years. Not eight and a day, of course, but nine in full, by decree of the Imperial calendar¡ª it had begun on zero rather than one. Gone indeed. Luke looked up from the unfolded map, lifting a hand to shield his eyes from the rising yellow sun. He hadn¡¯t managed to adjust to the brightness of morning before reaching his destination. The past several weeks, he had been traveling by night. But the danger had passed as soon as he made it into Altair. Most of it, anyway. There were rumors of the neutral territory, that the emperor sent tax collectors this far north, and even bands of soldiers to enforce it. But that couldn¡¯t be true. It would violate the Agreement. Still, a little caution never hurt, and he scanned his surroundings. The village was composed of spaced-out tiny, square huts of logs light and dark brown, all one floor high with flat roofs. The inn he had arrived in looked identical to most of the homes, save for a wooden sign at the front announcing itself. Patches of grass were sprinkled with the color of vegetables, green and red and yellow of shapes he could not pick out from this distance, marking well-tended gardens. Luke could even see some swirlsheep and chickens in fenced-off areas. But he was not here for any of that. In center view stood something utterly unlike the rest of the village: a large gated stone structure. Practically a mansion by comparison. By the height and windows, the house was a comparatively-impressive three stories of smooth light-gray stone, its top floor nestled underneath a gabled roof of slate rather than wood or thatch. Upkept bushes dotted with various berries surrounded the building, part of a gated garden-like interior carpeted by fields of trimmed grass. So, there was a survivor of the transition after all. That bloody, violent transition of ages which marked the birth of the Terra Daeva Empire. He had seen similar on his travels, but he tended to forget after so many hamlets and villages of nothing but wood and thatch. Not many things¡ª inanimate or otherwise¡ª survived the destruction. Here, it was called the Razing of Altair. Different places had different names for what the Empire had done. Luke pocketed the map and approached the white wooden fence curled around the property. He gently shoved the unlocked gate forward, then sauntered to the front door, passing over dark-gray slabs of stone running from the gate to the house itself. Luke rapped on the wooden door with his knuckles. It wasn¡¯t long until he could hear someone within, slowly shuffling toward him. A figure appeared on the other side, visible through a translucent cutout of glass shaped like a bird with a long tail pointed skyward. A moment after, the door pulled back to reveal a young boy. He had striking ginger hair, light green eyes, and a youthful, tan face peppered with barely-visible freckles. While his hair was curly, it wasn¡¯t nearly as disastrous and messy as Luke¡¯s, instead kept neat and clean. He wore a turtleneck sweater, a rather mockable choice had this been Aetas Origo instead of¡­ wherever. I¡¯ve already forgotten the name, Luke realized. He had even checked the map a moment ago. It wasn¡¯t that he had bad memory¡­ he just didn¡¯t care to remember the name of a place he¡¯d never visit again. ¡°You must be Luke Nixus,¡± the young boy said after a moment. His hand clutched the knob as if he were ready to pull the door shut again. ¡°Yes,¡± Luke said, uncertain. ¡°I¡­ was expecting someone, you know¡­ older.¡± ¡°I am older.¡± The boy frowned. ¡°Your grandfather¡¯s letter said you were fifteen. Well, I¡¯m sixteen.¡± ¡°I mean¡­¡± Luke sighed. ¡°Is Orcus Alder home?¡± The ginger-haired teenager narrowed his eyes. ¡°No, he isn¡¯t,¡± he said slowly. ¡°When will he return?¡± Luke asked, speaking with more speed and impatience than the easygoing teenager dressed in a light green¡ª no, pine green¡ª sweater. Pine green. That¡¯s how you know you¡¯re in the middle of nowhere, completely bored out of your mind. You start thinking about the shade of some kid¡¯s shirt. ¡°Don¡¯t know,¡± the youth said, shrugging indifference. ¡°This evening, maybe. Orcus is a busy man.¡± ¡°I see,¡± Luke said quickly. ¡°I¡¯ll wait, then.¡± The boy was a fool, but it wasn¡¯t worth getting agitated over. That could get in the way of his goal if the boy turned out to be someone important to Orcus Alder, and he needed that man to enter Mirastelle easily. He had other ways, but he¡¯d rather not resort to them. Luke turned and left the way he came without waiting for a response or an invitation inside and heard the door close behind him. He crossed the stone-slabbed path and shut the gate behind him. Quietly, he settled down on flattened earth, folding his legs. He propped his head against the white fence enclosing the Alder residence, then slid the blue bag off his shoulder and dropped it onto his lap. After lifting his head to pull his jacket¡¯s hood up and over, Luke¡¯s first instinct was to take a nap. He was definitely no stranger to sleeping outdoors. He could sleep pretty much anywhere. Waking up, grumbling about fireworks? Had he grown too used to the quiet countryside? He slept there¡ª head tilted back, hands on his bag¡¯s strap. A thief would have a hard time wrenching it away that way. The low temperature¡ª winter was only a month or two off¡ª the occasional gusts of icy wind, even the glaringly bright blue morning sky, none of it really seemed to bother him. No, he was used to this. ¡ª¡ª¡ª ¡°Is this him?¡± Levian Vega asked, voice echoing off the walls as he approached. ¡°Yes, Master Vega,¡± Typhos said softly. The sky above the nameless Empire-ruled town was a single shade of gray, just emerging from the black night. In a few hours, celebrations of the Ninth Year would begin. Typhos stood before the seated silhouette of a broad-chested man in a narrow alley lined by stuccoed walls close together, colored dark and gray, perhaps even in daylight. The man at ground level rested against the nebulous wall with eyes closed, still. Short as he was, Typhos did not have to lower his head far to see the man¡¯s face. Levian strode through the alley in his traditional coat uniform¡ª dark in color and neatly pressed. In the light, the shade could be identified as a smooth charcoal. He knelt and inspected the fallen man with inquisitive blue eyes. At a quick glance, Levian¡¯s coat was that of the Empire¡¯s Military Police. Such a coat bore an embroidered symbol on the back¡ª a minimalist sketch of a certain sort inside a black circle. The type of sketch specified one¡¯s position, though the exact meaning would usually be unfamiliar to a passerby. Citizens didn¡¯t need to know every rank¡ª and often didn¡¯t. A simple circle on the back featuring some sort of design was more than enough of a tell¡ª it was illegal to wear anything overtly similar in the Empire. An elderly gentleman passed the mouth of the alley from the street outside, gait relaxed. He wore a simple hat and civilian¡¯s coat, flat color with no markings of any kind. He glanced toward the three, then continued on his way. To a civilian like that, the sight probably seemed obvious. A short boy, blonde of hair and youthful in all but expression, had called an officer to assist carrying his drunken father home. Something like that. What else would be happening at this hour? Notably, the elderly man did not tip his hat. Once a sign of respect, no longer. Stories of Empire officers misinterpreting innocent gestures¡ª a tip of the hat, or reaching for a knife in the brim?¡ª had spread through the Empire like wildfire. Leave them to their business, people learned, and quickly. But¡­ perhaps he did know. The truth. Truth, that the slumped man in shadow was no drunken father, and truth that the boy was no mere boy. Just after the elderly man disappeared from view, steel whispered on leather as Typhos drew his weapon. ¡°Should I kill him?¡± Typhos asked softly. ¡°I don¡¯t hear any irregularities in his breathing or footsteps,¡± Levian said casually. ¡°He saw nothing, and even if he did, so be it. We risk further discovery making a bigger mess.¡± The subdued glint of metal faded into the darkness. That man was lucky¡ª unbelievably so¡ª and he¡¯d never know it. If it were just a bit lighter, and he happened to see the crimson innards of ¡®the father¡¯ strewn below, staining the pavement¡­ ¡°Understood, sir,¡± he said, pulling a pale hand from his hip sheath. Yes, that elderly man was definitely a lucky one. ¡°So,¡± Levian began, ¡°What say you, Ty? Who¡¯s our thief?¡± Cold blue eyes touched the fallen man. ¡°Another one of Rhea¡¯s dogs?¡± ¡°It would appear so,¡± Typhos replied calmly, proffering a large brown envelope. Levian rose, snatching the envelope away with a much bigger hand. The difference of age between the two was palpable¡ª Typhos was obviously a teenager, no amount of mature expressions could change his beardlessness. It was only the surface of how little the pair had in common. Typhos was draped in a ragged, patched cloak; an unsightly mix of browns and grays, dirty, ripped, and tattered at the bottom. It looked as though it had been torn and restitched numerous times, and was in desperate need of a wash. A hood concealed the upper half of his face, and the full scope of his unkempt hair. A simple black cloth mask concealed the bottom half. Too fair skin¡ªlike that of a ghost¡ª showed sparingly around his scarlet eyes. The odd combination gave him an unsettling quality; most adults were nervous around him. Levian stood tall¡ª properly tall, perhaps a foot or so above Typhos. He was contrastingly well-dressed, his black-buttoned charcoal coat completely clear of dust and grime. He appeared to be well into his thirties¡ª Typhos wasn¡¯t sure¡ª perhaps even a bit older. His face was clean-shaven, save for a thin dark mustache running along his upper lip. Matching dark hair atop an angular head had been combed back; he wore no hat or cloak and made no effort to conceal his identity. With eyes like crystalline ice, Levian examined the label on the front of the envelope, printed in small font. Typhos had already seen it. Highlight, it read. ¡°This town is very close to the border,¡± Levian said, opening the envelope and riffling through the stack of papers as he spoke. ¡°It¡¯s a shame he noticed you trailing him. A dog of Rhea venturing up toward Altair at the same time we are? How curious.¡± Levian stuffed the papers back inside, folded it up and tucked it away inside a charcoal pocket. He grinned as he strode out of the alley. Typhos wore a blank expression as he eyed the gruesome corpse of the man he did not know. His dirtied cloak whipped in a passing gust. ¡°Come along, Ty,¡± Levian called. ¡°My little apprentice.¡± He turned to follow, and found himself staring at the back of that coat again. Out in the streets, dimly lit by fading lanterns and a sky two or three shades gray, the coat¡¯s symbol was far more visible¡ª the minimalist sketch was that of a vulture. Cathartes, one of the Twelve Flocks. That wasn¡¯t unusual, given the Province they were in. No, far more telling was that the sketch was surrounded by a diamond, not a circle. Typhos knew what that meant, as did every last man, woman, and child living in the Empire. Even that old-timer would have noticed, had it not been so dark. It was the crimson diamond insignia of Terra Daeva. Absolute authority given only to six, authority to govern a wide-reaching nation of millions. A select few granted the illustrious gift of serving directly beneath His Majesty Amon Munitio, First and Righteous Emperor of Terra Daeva. An Elite. 02 - Daydreams ¡° Oh, right. That kid from before. Come to think of it, he must be¡­ ¡°was asleep. Is your dad back?¡± ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° possibly be around to see? Was the annual village paint drying contest happening today? Flocks Above, don¡¯t say it. Just go back to sleep. ¡° ¡ª¡ª¡ª ¡°¡­ something, that presence he could sometimes sense. He dared not speak of it. He had given it a name, in his mind only. The Shadow. It was the way nothing looked out of place, perfectly as it had been left, yet the automobile¡¯s interior smelled. It smelled not of Vega¡¯s tobacco, nor of the leather seats, but of¡­ nothing. The Shadow was near, that nothingness meant. He would have smelled cleaning chemicals if another subordinate had excessively erased the pungent fresh scent of the thickly padded leather seats that had been replaced recently, and if his nose were simply broken today, he¡¯d have ways of noticing that as well. For one, the blood from earlier wouldn¡¯t have smelled nearly as strong. No. It had to be the Shadow. nothing? Was that possible? This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° lurched to a stop. Flocks Above, he hated that feeling in his gut, as if he were suddenly airborne. Typhos offered the Flocks a quiet apology for the swear and prayed that his master would never discover how much he loathed the moment these machines halted. The man was fascinated with finding weaknesses, even those of his subordinates. ¡ª¡ª¡ª comfortable newspapers. Not the crummy material Origo Times used. No, those were clipping Origo Daily. ¡°the black peppers.¡± True, there was a single patch of black in there. Those must be the black peppers. How exciting. ¡° He just keeps going and going, he thought exasperatedly. This is what I get for trying to be courteous. ¡° Great. Another acquaintance. How many is that, now? Five? Six? ¡° ¡° ¡° Save me. ¡°all of those? What restraint? ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° anything else to do around here¡ª but a few coins were a lot more than no coins. ¡°thrown. ¡° ¡°seen one in¡­ in months, I think.¡± ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° 03 - Waking into the tour. That was the feeling Cyrus got, at least. He couldn¡¯t blame Luke. After all, he came all this way from Sirius¡¯s famous capital, Aetas Origo, one of the greatest cities in all of Asundria. Castitas was¡­ well, Castitas. It was what it was, and nothing more. A small, simple village with little in the way of excitement. worked. Each person had a role, a comfortable place in their miniature society of some two hundred people. Add more people¡ª become a city¡ª that¡¯s where it goes wrong. Too many mouths to feed. Too many people with nothing to do. Too many people to even remember the names of! used their well. Were that so, the soldiers of those days, either side, would have tasted excellence. Castitas had the purest water this side of Altair. Perfect for cooking. I should ask Luke to show me some gourds from Sirius if he stays another night, he thought idly, grabbing his bag. He shut the door and stepped out onto the gravel road. He must have a few. Even traveling city folk carry a few gourds. were doing that? Loud, for a prank. It had been happening all morning. And if it wasn¡¯t a prank¡­ well, Castitas didn¡¯t celebrate the Empire¡¯s birth. Did they? No, there was no chance. He¡¯d have to ask his father. ¡ª¡ª¡ª ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° was true. After all, this quiet little village called Castitas did not simply have an Elite-Ace pair strolling around. ¡ª¡ª¡ª ¡° Yes, this is a nice orange. Very¡­ orange. Anything to distract him from the fact that the man¡¯s sweater was the same clipping shade of pine green as his son. ¡° could not hide from him for much longer. ¡° The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. or strike him down for blasphemy, so what was the point? Some people seemed absolutely convinced of one or the other, but thievery was often cited as a reason for the so-called striking down, and nothing had ever happened to him other than the occasional shopkeep chasing after him with broom or sword. ¡°rattle. He eyed Luke, then laughed. ¡°Not what you¡¯re used to, I imagine. Castitas only has one carpenter, our number for most things.¡± Right. The village. Castitas. That¡¯s what it was called. more papers. Luke seated himself on the other side of the desk on a short stool, setting his large blue traveling bag on the desk at the mayor¡¯s insistent prompting. Then, the man went back to his drawer, noisily shuffling and sifting. How did people manage to keep track of all that junk? You can¡¯t even eat paper. Luke should know. Once, in Aetas Origo, he tried to¡ª ¡° ¡°Close enough to a grandfather. No need to overcomplicate it. ¡°There¡¯s a person, er, someone I¡¯m trying to find. I think Mirastelle can help me.¡± ¡° ¡° ¡°¡­The General of Ulciscor has the best chance of knowing the information I¡¯m looking for, and he always meets new recruits as part of a joining ceremony. That¡¯s what I¡¯m aiming for. ¡° ¡° did smell it! ¡° Wing-clipped fool, he thought ruefully. Are you going to be afraid of fire your whole life? ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° very pure Rixator blood. But who? Luke thought. Flocks, why? ¡° ¡° ¡°¡­ ¡° ¡° Disobey, and I will have no choice but to use this. Obey, and I will guarantee your safety. Understand? ¡° ¡° ¡° was a nobleman¡ª it couldn¡¯t be anyone else. ¡° Ace! The Third Ace of the Terra Daeva Empire was right in front of him! ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° When I find him, I¡¯m going to kill him. ¡° needed to be done. I can¡¯t let them catch me. I know what the Daevan military is like. This village, whatever is happening, this village is finished. I need to do something to get out of this, fast. Think, Luke! ¡° Not a flute I¡¯ve ever seen. ¡° I need to move. Green. ¡­Green? Stop thinking about the damn pine green shirts, you wing-clipped idiot! Your life is in danger! What was down there? Grass? Or stone? Luke looked to Orcus. The mayor sweat profusely, face panicked. I¡¯m sorry, Luke thought sadly. ¡° blue the cloudless sky was. ¡ª¡ª¡ª Luke? imagine that crashing sound; those glass shards sparkling in the sunlight as they fell from the window? Did he imagine that figure in sky blue hitting hard, dropping and rolling across the grass? Surely he had. He was about to slap his forehead feeling like a clipped fool with an imagination running wild when he saw the young traveler sprawled out on the ground. He blinked three times. Not his imagination. He glanced up at the shattered window, then dropped his brown paper bag, filled to bursting with ingredients, and ran for the garden. Tomatoes, onions, and various other things he didn¡¯t take notice of rolled on the grass behind him. He approached quickly and crouched down to get a closer look at Luke. Of all things, Cyrus thought, panic rising. We don¡¯t have a doctor! Castitas still doesn¡¯t have a doctor! Apprentices, but are any of them ready? ¡°Oh, Phaethon¡­ I have to get someone, fast! I¡ª ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡°Now!¡± ¡° ¡° 04 - Lifes Work ¡°All rounded up. We did our own sweep. Streets were empty,¡± Levian said as he strolled into the tiny mayoral office and threw his hands up. Typhos, as always, stood dutifully at his side. Vassago grunted. ¡°Pity, really,¡± Levian continued. ¡°Perhaps your men cleaned up too well. I was hoping for a bit of sport.¡± Vassago grunted. ¡°Don¡¯t strain yourself, Vassago,¡± Levian said. Vassago almost grunted a third time, but finally glanced up at the dark-haired Elite standing in the doorway. His master gave the man his best disarming smile. ¡°Where¡¯s the mayor of this dump?¡± Levian asked. ¡°Does this backwater village even have one?¡± ¡°He is away from those who mean him harm,¡± Vassago said. Vassago sat at the former desk of Mayor Orcus Alder, wearing a pair of too-small reading spectacles that did not seem to befit someone of his build. Typhos had, of course, long since learned that there was much more to strength than dumbbells and crunches. ¡°I mean, physically, where is he?¡± ¡°Away from those who mean him harm,¡± Vassago repeated flatly. His blue-eyed master bellowed a laugh and clapped his hands. ¡°What¡¯s that about?¡± Levian asked, still half-laughing. ¡°Come on. What am I, the Bane? Some horrible nightmare from Below?¡± ¡°Capella¡¯s orders,¡± Vassago said, eyes focused on the paperwork scattered across the desk. ¡°Apologies, Vega.¡± Levian sighed and shrugged. He spun, long-backed coat flaring as he walked out without another word, clearly annoyed by the Ace not rising to his provocations. Vassago shuffled some papers quietly, choosing one out of the stack and beginning to read. Typhos watched curiously as his master spun around in the hallway and walked right back in. ¡°Anybody escape?¡± Levian asked, poking into the room with an eager expression. Vassago grunted. ¡°Is that a yes?¡± The Ace sighed. ¡°The mayor¡¯s son,¡± Vassago said after a moment. ¡°He disappeared this afternoon. One of our men reported a boy matching his description. He fled into the Pines.¡± ¡°The Pines?¡± his master mused. ¡°To Ulciscor, then. That¡¯s good. That¡¯s what we wanted.¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Vassago said, exchanging the paper in his hands with another. ¡°What¡¯s this, then?¡± Levian asked, stepping into the room. He waved at a large cylindrical blue bag on the floor. ¡°It¡¯s a bag,¡± Vassago said dryly. ¡°No, no,¡± Levian said excitedly. ¡°It¡¯s a traveling bag!¡± He reached inside and pulled out a shirt¡ª plain gray¡ª and held it, stretching it out. ¡°Curious. Very curious. Look at the size, Vassago. Kid size.¡± He paused. ¡°The mayor wouldn¡¯t fit in these, right?¡± ¡°Most definitely not.¡± Vassago grimaced. ¡°His son, then.¡± Levian emptied the bag, clothes and gourds dropping to the floor in a rattle. ¡°But why leave it behind?¡± Vassago muttered something under his breath. Typhos thought he caught a swear. ¡°What?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not interested in detective games, Vega,¡± the Shield¡¯s Ace said, setting his jaw. ¡°If Ulciscor knows what the mayor knows, so be it. All the more reason you should let me work in peace.¡± Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. Typhos¡¯s master frowned. Then, oddly, he smiled. He must have noticed something. ¡°Last question. The window. What¡¯s with that?¡± Vassago glanced to the side, to the window frame missing glass. Typhos had noticed it from outside earlier. No pane, and if it had been broken, there were no shards in sight. Not on the floor here, nor outside, far below. ¡°Villages,¡± Vassago said. ¡°Villages.¡± ¡°In Rixator, my people often do this. Some have shutters. Others simply have nothing.¡± ¡°We aren¡¯t in Rixator,¡± Levian said. ¡°It rains here a tad more than once a lifetime. Flocks¡ª it snows here!¡± Vassago shrugged. ¡°Never mind,¡± Levian said. He sighed. ¡°I¡¯ll go bother Asmari instead. She¡¯s more fun.¡± Typhos¡¯s master spoke of bothering Vassago¡¯s superior¡ª Asmari Capella, the Emperor¡¯s Shield, the Third Elite¡ª so casually. Levian was the Second Elite, but that did not actually rank him higher. It was improper in Asundrian custom, rude even, to address someone of equal or higher rank by their forename, but custom and tradition rarely seemed of consequence to Levian Vega. A fact Typhos had grown all too familiar with over the years. Recently, Levian had asked him to think of all but Munitio by their forenames, even himself, though he still had to call him ¡®Master Vega.¡¯ He had no idea why, but he did as his master requested, even in his own thoughts. Vassago replied with a wordless shuffle of papers, and the Elite turned to leave. Typhos followed him. From the corner of his eye, Typhos saw the Shield¡¯s Ace draw a photograph from his pocket and begin to study it. He seemed almost¡­ melancholic. It was a very curious sight indeed. Levian had exited the office properly smug this time. Sometimes, smugness was all you needed, Typhos¡¯s master often told him. ¡°Come, Ty,¡± he said without looking. He knew the command would be obeyed, as always. Typhos and Levian passed soldiers in light brown uniforms¡ª yellow at the throat¡ª as they descended the staircase and ventured out into the desolate village. Before passing the white gate, Levian spun to face the stone building one last time. It stood tall yet quiet, devoid of any life other than the Shield¡¯s men. Capella-Rixator soldiers stood on either end of the building inside the gate, scanning empty streets. ¡°My apologies, Honorable Elite,¡± Levian whispered in a mock soldier tone. ¡°We have orders to keep you out of the garden. No sleuthing today!¡± He turned and smiled at Typhos. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m ever so sorry, your Supreme Elitefulness, Asmari is¡ª rather conveniently¡ª not to be disturbed and twit twit twit.¡± He rolled icy blue eyes and walked off. Typhos followed wordlessly. The sun was waning quickly, plunging the sky into evening. It would be night before the pitiable thing even took notice. By now, all two hundred and twelve citizens of Castitas had been collected and packed inside the constable¡¯s office. Even the dead ones. Those fourteen dropped the actual population below two hundred. The Empire presence, then, of course, ballooned it well over that number. ¡°The mayor¡¯s son,¡± Levian mused. ¡°He¡¯s running for Ulciscor.¡± ¡°I see.¡± ¡°I suppose¡­¡± Levian began, halting in the street. ¡°He¡¯ll have a hard time getting votes.¡± Typhos stared blankly. Levian met that stare. ¡°Your humor is boundless, master,¡± Typhos finally said. ¡°In that you are unable to bound¡ª or reach¡ª any significant distance with it.¡± Levian smiled, just for the faintest moment. It seemed real, but it couldn¡¯t be. ¡°Still needs work,¡± Levian said, walking again. ¡°I¡¯ll make a comedian out of you yet.¡± ¡°I thought you were training me to be an assassin.¡± ¡°I¡¯m training you to be everything, Ty. You are my life¡¯s work, little apprentice.¡± It was a lie, of course. Or perhaps another joke. His master had a terrible sense of humor, so it was difficult to tell the difference. Typhos said nothing. His master waited until they were out of the last Capella-Rixator soldier¡¯s earshot before he continued speaking. ¡°There was a second man, perhaps a boy. I do not know for certain, but Rixator seems to think it well if I guess my time away. I am not so patient, as you know well.¡± Typhos nodded gravely. How he knew. They rounded a corner, rounded any prying eyes and ears. ¡°Zaba,¡± Levian said softly. ¡°Niya.¡± Night had come. The day had been foolish, careless as always. An invisible finger had pinched the sky as if it were a candle flame, snuffing it from fleeting orange to enduring darkness. Two figures stood eerily still in the shadowy cobblestone street, cloaked from head to toe in patterned robes of crimson on black. ¡°Two have fled this place. The mayor¡¯s son¡ª and another. An older boy, or perhaps a young man. Likely, both are heading to Ulciscor as we speak. Ty, you saw photographs of the mayor before we departed. What of his son?¡± ¡°You have shown me his son as well.¡± ¡°Great,¡± Levian said. ¡°Provide them with a description, then return to my side.¡± Typhos bowed acquiescently. It did not surprise him, hearing his master suggest disrupting Highlight, a plan of the emperor¡¯s own design. Levian Vega was swift. And he was decisive. ¡°Enter the Pines,¡± Levian said to the cloaked pair. He commanded them with a powerful voice that demanded obedience, harder than iron and sharper than the finest knife. ¡°Find those two. Kill them both.¡± 05 - The Pines ¡° Erasing our tracks, Cyrus guessed. He knew a little of hunting¡ª not much. It had a few hunters already, Castitas¡­ ¡° ¡° He showed up the same day. The same clipping day! ¡° ¡° ¡° Do you really think he¡¯s with them? he asked himself. He saved me. Am I that stupid? ¡ª¡ª¡ª ¡° It¡¯s a wonder this didn¡¯t happen earlier, Luke thought. A village mayor¡¯s son could be useful, but I have no time to deal with someone like this. ¡° ¡° Amon¡¯s eyes¡­ ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡°walk.¡± He sat up quickly¡ª somehow¡ª and pounded a leg, grunting. ¡°Work, stupid!¡± This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. ¡° ¡° ¡°thirty miles from your village to Ulciscor,¡± Luke said. ¡°There¡¯s no way I can make that without resting. I¡¯m sorry.¡± ¡° ¡° ¡°For now. And a long time after that, I hope. would come in handy, it seemed. I¡¯ll need to find a suitable piece of wood, Luke thought. Everything else is easy. I just have to¡ª ¡ª¡ª¡ª ¡° ¡° ¡°In training. ¡° that bad. He frowned. Was it? eaten his peels. Despite everything that happened, that had to be the strangest thing he had seen all day. ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡°Why not? ¡°It¡¯s a bit of a story.¡± ¡° ¡° dangerous place, Castitas. Cyrus was certainly too young for the journey. lead them. The village council offered him the position of mayor. Orcus, humble as he was, had prepared to decline. In private, Mary requested he accept, to consider it payment for all he had done. It was her last request, in fact. ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° 06 - Incident at the South Wall ¡°Terra Daeva has enough tailors,¡± the charcoal-coated man said coldly. Black smoke wafted upward from the device in his gloved hand. The father slumped, clutching tightly to the woman in his arms. Strands of blonde hair fell away from her face, mixing with the red blossoming from her chest. Flame and smoke raced to consume the house. Raum. That was his father¡¯s name. But what was hers? ¡°Fishermen?¡± The blue-eyed man smiled faintly. ¡°Men of patience. Takers of lives, so that others may live. That is an occupation I happen to be fond of. I am a pragmatist, you see.¡± He lowered his arm and gestured to his men. ¡°Yes, there is plenty of room in Terra Daeva for men like you.¡± Soldiers trudged across the room. Four hands grabbed father and son each, ripping them from their moment of stupor. Raum went limp, and the men strained to keep him upright. ¡°And if I refuse?¡± Raum croaked weakly. ¡°What then?¡± The man in the charcoal coat paused, thoughtful. ¡°Then I¡¯ll work your son twice as hard,¡± he said with such frost as to turn the room cold. A burning cold, but not the flames. ¡°Leave James out of this!¡± Raum snapped. Strength flooded back into his body, and he struggled against his captors. ¡°He¡¯s just a child!¡± ¡°You¡¯re giving me orders? That¡¯s priceless,¡± the man laughed. Embers danced beside his eyes, as if to try and melt the ice inside. A hopeless endeavor. He continued, ¡°After today, they will call me Elite. And they will call you and your son by new names, chosen for you. Remember that. Remember the difference between you and I. Remember Elite. Someday, you will learn what it means. If you live long enough.¡± He smiled deeply and left, soldiers and captives following. Everything that remained in the home burned true. A twig snapped. Luke¡¯s eyes opened wide. For a faint moment, Luke wondered if he had imagined that pinkish light illuminating their little campsite. If it was real, it had already vanished. The thought fled at another sound, a rustled bush in the direction of the snapped branch. Deciding the heavy darkness¡ª and the sounds¡ª around them was real and not another dream, Luke pushed himself up quietly and roused Cyrus. The ginger-haired boy mumbled underneath Luke¡¯s pressed palm, but he managed to understand the situation before any kind of thrashing and shouting. A third sound¡ª something like a footstep over leaves¡ª caught Cyrus¡¯s attention, and he climbed to his feet. Quietly. Good. He crouched low, following Luke¡¯s example. He grabbed the mayor¡¯s son by the arm as the fool reached for the paper bag of food and supplies. Maybe he didn¡¯t understand the situation as well as Luke had hoped. Luke leaned toward an ear. ¡°Leave it,¡± he breathed. He thought he saw Cyrus nod, but it was too dark to tell for certain. The villager did not reach for it again when Luke released his arm. Luke glanced at their enclosed semicircle of pine trees, then turned in the direction of Ulciscor and began moving. Cyrus followed wordlessly. The greatest enemy of sneaking about was your own feet. In Aetas Origo, Luke had been chased away by many a shopkeep tripping on a can or some other discarded waste at the worst possible time. Those days, he did not eat. You learned fast or died fast in that life. The noises could have been the work of an animal¡ª an elk that had wandered far to the south¡ª but Luke did not take chances with his life. A wolf or worse were just as likely. He could not afford to die. There were things that needed done. Well, just one thing, really. Luke and Cyrus moved like that for a time, dodging branches and weaving through evergreen thickets. Swift, silent, and terrified. ¡ª¡ª¡ª It wasn¡¯t until Cyrus felt the wooden rail dig into his stomach that he noticed it was there. His tired mind worked through the event. Sight. Yes. He had eyes. Easy mistake. Of course, then he stared down into the thousand foot chasm inches from his worn soles and he jerked back in shock and fell over, crying out. ¡°I¡¯m awake, I¡¯m awake!¡± he said, more for himself than Luke. Luke raised an eyebrow. He stood over Cyrus, still holding out an uncertain arm as if he were still expecting him to step right off. ¡°You actually bumped into the rail,¡± Luke said. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect that. I thought orchard kids were early risers.¡± Cyrus ignored the comment and glanced around at the Pines. Everything looked the same, only sunlit, clusters of pine and evergreen thickets. No, it was thinner eastward, fewer clusters and copses. As far as the eye could see¡ª though his did not linger long¡ª the Great Pines, everywhere except the Crack at his feet. Cyrus knew about it, of course. He was just very exhausted, walking most of the night after sleep was interrupted. The Crack was a notable part of the Asundrian Cliffs to the east, a mind-numbing sheer drop into a body of water lined with jagged rocks and spiked outcroppings. The Cliffs bordered not one, not two, but five countries, running all the way from Sirius to Ganymede. The water at the bottom was appropriately known as the Sheer Sea. There were three major Cracks running inland, and many minor ones that did not go very far. The Crack before them was the northernmost one, serving as the border between Altair and Mintaka. When they still existed. Mintaka and Ganymede had become Mirastelle, and Altair simply ceased to be. Cyrus swallowed his nerves and glanced over the sturdy wooden railing running along the entire Crack. The Sheer Sea did not extend to this spot. It was mostly rock at the bottom this far inland, crags chaotic and broken. Evergreen vines and moss crept underneath the railing, seeking the bottom for some unfathomable reason. At the sound of wood, Cyrus turned to see Luke crossing a short bridge. The Crack grew slimmer as it traveled inland, but it did remain deep, all way to the tip in the northwest. Neither end was visible from the bridge. The Crack seemed to stretch endlessly in both directions. ¡°Coming?¡± Luke asked, already on the other side. Cyrus nodded and hurried after him. There was a firm bridge, not of pine but another, sturdier wood brought from the south. He was not sure what, but it was dark and looked to be the same as the railings running along the Crack. Cyrus breathed a sigh of relief once he made it across, short as it was. He fell forward on his knees, mind and body exhausted, glad that he did not tumble to the bottom of the Cliffs by accord of his own two feet. Luke cleared his throat. ¡°Can¡¯t we take a break?¡± Cyrus asked. ¡°The sun¡¯s out. We¡¯ve been moving almost all night.¡± ¡°Suit yourself,¡± Luke said, moving on. ¡°I¡¯ll be in there.¡± Cyrus looked up in realization. Landmarks, wingless fool, he thought to himself. You¡¯ve traveled the Pines to Ulciscor more than once. What¡¯s right beyond the bridges? Yes, already in view, past just a few more lines of clustered pines¡­ How tired was he? A massive circular formation of bricked stone loomed before him, its towering presence almost hiding from view an iron portcullis two men high and five wide. The stone was almost as high as the Castitas mayoral residence, crenellated and dotted with watchtowers rising higher still. Cyrus rose and followed after Luke. In moments, they were in the shadow of the Ulciscor Wall, the border of Mirastelle. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. ¡ª¡ª¡ª ¡°Stop,¡± commanded a voice ahead, soft but firm. Luke and Cyrus stopped at the edge of a sizable clearing around the Wall. Only patches of grayish grass colored the earth between where they stood and the city of Ulciscor. A figure in light metal held up a gauntleted hand. Armor clinked softly until the figure drew close enough that Luke could tell it was a man with a tan face and brown hair. ¡°Identity yourselves,¡± the man demanded. A gold-trimmed silvery spear rested lazily in the crook of his arm. The famous Ulciscor Wall loomed above them, and the iron portcullis sat tightly closed straight ahead. Beyond it lay the country of Mirastelle and the sprawling city of Ulciscor. Luke¡¯s goal, in sight at last. ¡°We have business inside,¡± Luke said curtly. ¡°There¡¯s trouble.¡± He took an impatient step, and the man twirled the spear and lowered it to Luke¡¯s throat. ¡°Trouble does not pass,¡± the man said, spear steady and eyes sharp. Cyrus opened his mouth to speak, but Luke did not give him the chance. ¡°It will if you don¡¯t let me through,¡± Luke said, tired and annoyed, not at all bothered by the weapon at his throat. ¡°We don¡¯t have time to explain everything. I need to speak with Wolf.¡± Vander Wolf was the man in charge of Ulciscor¡¯s division of the army. Half of Terra Daeva call him the greatest tactician in Mirastelle, and the other half cannot speak from the graves in which he buried them. How could this fool not see they needed to talk with him? Cyrus mumbled something, but he did not catch what. ¡°General Wolf has no time for whelps,¡± the guard said harshly. ¡°Nor does the rest of the Ulciscor Guard. Arriving at a side gate in the early morning coated in dirt and grime, won¡¯t say what you¡¯re on about. Just trouble. Well, try swindling past another gate with your talk of trouble, see how many listen after I report you.¡± ¡°Luke, I think we should¡ª¡± ¡°How honorable,¡± Luke snapped angrily. ¡°Is this how you treat everybody coming into Mirastelle? Blocking the only way into the country must really inflate your ego.¡± ¡°Luke! Would you please calm down for a minute!¡± Luke and the guard turned to Cyrus. The boy dressed in dirtied pine green panted as if he had never yelled in his life. A flock of birds took off in the distance, disturbed. ¡°Why are you shouting?¡± Luke and the guard asked in unison. Immediately, they glared at each other¡ª also in unison. ¡°I¡¯d like to save my village now, thanks,¡± Cyrus said with a sigh. ¡°My name is Cyrus Alder.¡± ¡°Is that so?¡± the guard said, unexpectedly calm. He lowered the spear. ¡°I thought I recognized you. I¡¯ve seen you with your father a few times. A village mayor, if I recall.¡± ¡°And you are?¡± Cyrus asked. Serves him right. No good unmemorable Flock-galed¡ª ¡°South Wall captain,¡± the guard said proudly. He tapped his chest with a fist, a common Asundrian salute. ¡°Deen Daniels.¡± He¡¯s a captain? Luke stepped back and whispered, ¡°How¡¯d you do that?¡± ¡°All Captain Daniels asked for was our names,¡± Cyrus said exasperatedly. Luke blinked. ¡°Really?¡± ¡°What¡¯s the trouble, Cyrus? You mentioned your¡­¡± Twigs snapped in rapid succession. Daniels seemed to notice around the same time as Luke, which surprised them both for an instant. ¡°Get behind me,¡± Daniels said quickly in a low voice, brandishing his spear. The silvery metal and gold trim glittered in the sunlight. Cyrus moved first, Luke backing away slower, facing the sounds. Green. Two human-sized shadows darted through the Pines, splitting left and right. Luke could barely make out fluttering cloaks of mottled gray and brown and green that seemed to meld into the forest. Green. The color was so distinct in his mind. It had nothing to do with the green things he saw. It seemed¡­ important, somehow. Enough! Luke thought. What¡¯s your fixation, wingless idiot? ¡°Terra Daeva,¡± Cyrus breathed. ¡°That¡¯s impossible,¡± Daniels muttered, moving backward slowly and waving them back with a free hand. Luke glanced back. They were maybe a quarter of the way to the gate. Strangely, he did not feel fear at that moment. Just determined. ¡°They¡¯re after us,¡± Cyrus said, panicked. ¡°We escaped.¡± The two human shadows had drawn far enough apart that Daniels had to swivel his head back and forth to track them. ¡°Whoever they are, whatever they want,¡± Daniels said, spear steady in white-knuckled hands, ¡°They aren¡¯t getting it on the Wall¡¯s watch.¡± He flicked his eyes to the gate for a heartbeat. Gauging the distance. ¡°Stay close and keep moving.¡± Halfway to safety, the distant cloaked figures strode into the clearing on opposite sides. Dark arms slid beneath darker cloaks and returned with a flash of sunlit steel. The pair of skulking shadows circled the trio almost casually, as if they had done it a thousand times, stopping in front and behind. One blocked their path to the large iron gate, the other stood menacingly before the armored guard. Halfway to safety was no safety at all. ¡°When I say,¡± Daniels said quietly, ¡°Run for the gate. We¡¯ll go together, understand? I¡¯ll take care of that one before his partner can reach us. I need you to do something. At the gate is¡ª¡± The shadows started toward them. ¡°¡ªNow!¡± Luke bolted for the gate. Wind thrummed in his ears and blood surged through his veins. He thought he heard Captain Daniels shout something else, but missed whatever it was. He kept his attention firmly glued to the cloaked man, dagger poised, eyes grim and dangerous. The gap between them shrank, then disappeared in an eyeblink. The dagger swept and tore through empty air, Luke half-sliding past the attacker. The iron gate loomed before him, over twice his height and wide enough for an automobile to pass through with ease. Firmly shut. What now? Luke thought, frantic, searching all around with quick glances. His mind raced. He needed something done. What was it? His eyes fell on a shadowed indent in the wall beside the gate. Somehow, he felt the dagger on the wind and sidestepped, steel flashing inches from his neck. Luke paused for a heartbeat, staring at his would-be killer. The cloaked man had caramel skin, hair the color between dark orange and black, and enough of a murderous glint in his dark green eyes to match his blade. He loomed over Luke, almost a foot taller. The dagger sought Luke¡¯s blood a third time, and he flung himself out of the way. Luke spun toward the indent in the wall just as the man gritted his teeth in irritation. He ran as hard as he could, listening to distant metal on metal, footsteps on his heels, and the wind in his ears. It was a tiny indent, only a few inches deep. A rope hung from a carved hole. Pull it, or not? He made his decision a heartbeat too late. Luke ducked out of the way as the dagger cut cleanly through the rope in his hand, stopping just shy of stone. Despite that, a bell sounded somewhere above him, no longer drowned out by the noise of the gate. The gate began to grind open, thick iron bars disappearing into pockets designed for the purpose. Luke and his assailant seemed to realize what was happening at the same time, breaking off from one another. He did not pull it, but it was opening anyway. Cyrus reached Luke in the next instant, gasping for breath. Watching from afar, Luke suddenly realized that man was not running away, but running for Daniels. ¡°Captain!¡± the woman shouted urgently. ¡°Behind!¡± Luke could see the distant captain spin his spear to the side and intercept both attackers at once. In the next eyeblink, the cloaked pair were running¡ª away, this time¡ªwith the spearwoman on their heels. Daniels, strangely, was approaching Luke and Cyrus. ¡°You¡¯re not helping her?¡± Cyrus asked concernedly. ¡°Hah.¡± Daniels smiled broadly in spite of the situation. ¡°Help Major Cade? She could take all three of us¡ª me and them¡ª down without breaking a sweat. She would, too, if I try helping her.¡± ¡°That¡¯s crazy!¡± Cyrus protested. ¡°No,¡± Luke said, snatching the dagger out of the gray-green grass. ¡°I don¡¯t think it is.¡± Metal rattled behind them a moment later, and Luke turned to see a group of armored soldiers¡ª six in all¡ª pass through the open gate. ¡°Captain,¡± one of the three in front said, tapping a fist to his chest. ¡°At ease, Lieutenant Arston,¡± Daniels said. ¡°The moment has passed. Return to your posts, all of you.¡± ¡°Yes, captain,¡± the armored man said. This time, all six saluted. They turned and began to leave. Luke glanced at the clearing and noticed a single figure returning, a woman in silvery armor with a spear resting on her golden-cloaked shoulder. She did not look pleased. Daniels bit his lip. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. ¡°Arston,¡± Daniels called after the man. The guard stopped, and the other five broke away. ¡°Yes, captain?¡± ¡°Send for General Wolf.¡± He eyed Luke. ¡°There is trouble.¡± 07 - Thunderflute Luke sat against the Ulciscor Wall, looking up at the clouds. They were particularly high and feathery today, laid out in rows like a white wing stretched across solid blue. Not bad. Much better than yesterday. Of course, someone had already tried to kill him today, so perhaps the clouds were not good enough. The gate was still open, but they were not allowed entry. Cyrus stood speaking with that insufferable Captain Deen Daniels. Unfortunately, the Castitas villager did not know much of his home¡¯s takeover. Luke was the one with the details, to the captain¡¯s chagrin. The spearwoman had gone away¡ª back to the Southwest Wall. Major Alexis Cade was ranked one notch above captain, one below general. She was one of a small group second only to Vander Wolf himself. Apparently, she had noticed them from one of the watchtowers during morning inspection. ¡°You do that every morning?¡± Luke had asked. The bell he had tried to ring ended up being pointless, but who was he to complain when help arrived a moment ahead of schedule? Major Cade stood idly, leaning lightly into the butt of her spear. She had fair skin and wore a relaxed expression, but did her eyes show a bit of tightness behind her spectacles? It couldn¡¯t be an easy job, to hold such responsibility. Her blonde braid and the short golden mantle trailing down her back shifted in the breeze. The mantle was emblazoned in black with a wolf¡¯s head inside the shape of a tower, vaguely reminiscent of the Wall¡¯s watchtowers. ¡°Not every,¡± she said. ¡°But often unannounced.¡± She raised an eyebrow at Daniels. ¡°You were going to turn these two boys away?¡± ¡°You should have seen this one,¡± Daniels muttered, pointing. The image of the captain pointing vanished as Luke brushed the memory aside and closed his eyes, throwing his arms behind his head. Not a moment later, the butt of a spear poked him in the gut, eliciting an involuntary grunt and a wince. ¡°Get up,¡± Daniels growled. As Luke stifled an angry response and stood up, he heard a smooth, unfamiliar voice. ¡°No need to be so rough, captain.¡± Whose voice was that¡­? ¡°Those two Ahrarans were chasing them, general. They brought danger to the Walls,¡± Daniels protested. ¡°More than once, perhaps. All of the recent brewings, maybe.¡± ¡°All of Ulciscor¡¯s problems, caused by two lads?¡± Luke opened his eyes and met an unsettling face set in a permanent frown that did not match the smooth voice lightly arguing with the Wall captain. General Vander Wolf had gaunt cheeks and sunken, shadowed eyes that took Luke in and seemed to analyze every part of him. His head held little hair, as if the thick trimmed beard on his chin had stolen it all away. Wolf wore no armor, instead dressed in an embroidered spiralsilk uniform of silver and black buttoned to the neck that wrapped a tall, bony figure tightly. Buteo of the Twelve Flocks¡ª Hawk of Fury¡ª was stitched across his left breast in a minimalist style. Some said Buteo was a false Flock; that Aquila, Eagle of Wrath, was the true Flock between the two. The centuries-old quarrel didn¡¯t mean much to Luke. Why not just call them the Thirteen Flocks and be done with it? He¡¯s old now, Luke noted. The famous Vander Wolf looks nothing like the man in the history books anymore. Though, most of those photographs were older than Luke himself. It was to be expected. Luke blinked, and in the next breath, he realized the living legend, General Vander Wolf, was staring directly at him. He beamed, bowed, and saluted with a chest tap, all at the same time. Luke blinked again, and felt horribly awkward immediately. ¡°It¡¯s an honor, General Wolf,¡± Luke said. He bowed again to hide his flushed face. ¡°I¡¯m a big fan of yours. Sir.¡± He had come here to meet this man, and already he had botched everything. ¡°Tacticians have fans?¡± Cyrus wondered, and Luke noticed the villager was standing next to him. When did he get there? Cyrus grinned and whispered, ¡°So you can smile.¡± Daniels cleared his throat. The four of them stood, two facing two, before the iron gate of the South Wall. Luke took a moment to compose himself. He was not a child anymore. He hadn¡¯t been one for a long time. So what if he met his hero? He noticed the flick of a lighter, and saw that there was a fifth person. So quiet, he did not notice her at first. A woman in neither armor nor uniform¡ª a shoulder-strapped shirt and buckled trousers¡ª standing behind General Wolf with a cigarette in her mouth. Mature eyes met Luke¡¯s as she exhaled smoke through the chill air. ¡°Right,¡± Wolf said. ¡°I have some questions for you lads. What are your names?¡± Luke and Cyrus answered simply. ¡°And where do you come from?¡± ¡°Castitas.¡± ¡°Aetas Origo.¡± ¡°You¡¯re a long way from home,¡± Wolf said, eyeing Luke. ¡°I want to enlist,¡± Luke said seriously. Wolf said nothing to that. ¡°What trouble brings you to Ulciscor?¡± he asked instead. ¡°General Wolf, is there somewhere we can speak to you in private?¡± Cyrus asked instead. ¡°Here will do,¡± Wolf said flatly. ¡°The Walls do not spread secrets, nor do the men of the Walls.¡± Luke and Cyrus exchanged concerned looks. Luke shrugged and said it plainly. ¡°Terra Daeva is a few miles that way,¡±¡ªhe pointed¡ª¡°Ace, soldiers, and all.¡± Daniels snorted a laugh, but a sharp glance from the general set him straight-faced in an eyeblink. ¡°Fourth question. The last,¡± Wolf said. He moved his threatening glare from the captain to the two boys. ¡°Do you mean harm to my city?¡± ¡°No.¡± It was Cyrus who answered. Luke swallowed what he had been about to say and followed it with the same one-word answer. Wolf nodded to Daniels. ¡°For your sake, I hope you are not lying,¡± Wolf said. There was an edge to his smooth voice, Luke realized. It seemed there would not be much trust. ¡°Welcome to Ulciscor.¡± ¡ª¡ª¡ª As it turned out, if given the choice between being interrogated by his idol for hours on end or watching the annual Castitas paint drying contest before the village was taken over, Luke probably would have chosen the latter. ¡°Vassago Rixator, you said?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Luke said. For the third time. A gourd sat before Luke on a gray, featureless table stretching off to his left and right. The gourd itself was decorated in the natural silvery white and golden swirls of Mintaka. Cyrus seemed interested in that sort of thing, but it was nothing Luke hadn¡¯t seen before. He was no stranger to this country. Luke raised the gourd to his mouth and gulped down water. The walls were stone gray bricks. Gray and stone. Just like the ceiling. And the floor. And Vander Wolf¡¯s face. Luke snorted into his gourd at the thought and hastily covered it up as if he were choking on water and clearing his throat. Daniels glared at him from afar, standing straight-backed at the only exit, a sturdy dark iron door. It made the room feel like a prison cafeteria, and them the general¡¯s prisoners. He glanced at Cyrus. The ginger-haired villager looked how Luke felt. Worn down and tired. They were still in their forest-stained clothes, the general had wanted to speak with them immediately. His questions were thorough and often repetitious. Luke had opened his sky blue jacket an hour or so ago, feeling hot. Sealed in a room for hours, trapped beneath one of those¡­ things. What was it called? It hung from the ceiling above, radiating a warm yellow glow, pressing the darkness to the furthest edges of the room. Light bulb, Luke remembered. Another stupid bamboo thing. A candle works just as well. Better, even. ¡°Luke?¡± General Wolf asked. It did not feel like the first time. Luke started. ¡°Sorry,¡± he said. ¡°I spaced out. What was the question?¡± ¡°A man with broad shoulders, dark brown skin, a light scar running down the side of his face, and a flute in his left hand. Correct?¡± Wolf emphasized the word, referring to the flute that was not a flute. The strange device that could kill a person from afar, like the crossbow reinvented. Somehow, Luke had the impression that the thing was not new to the general, and he was merely surprised that Luke knew of it. The memory of a nameless woman flashed through Luke¡¯s mind. Louder than a crossbow, he remembered. Much louder. And faster. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Luke said. He glanced at the woman, flicking a lighter for a cigarette. Evidently, she was the general¡¯s right hand woman. But who is she? ¡°Ah. Aisha, introduce yourself,¡± Wolf said, as if reading Luke¡¯s mind. ¡°I need a moment to think about this.¡± The woman eyed the general with an orange-eyed gaze that seemed to linger before she finally exhaled smoke and spoke. ¡°Aisha.¡± She nodded once and returned to silence. Wolf tilted his head toward the woman¡ª Aisha¡ª and she shrugged indifferently. Not very talkative, then. Her name, stark white hair cut short, and caramel skin likely meant¡­ ¡°You¡¯re Ahraran?¡± Cyrus finished the thought. Clip me, can everyone tell what I¡¯m thinking today? ¡°Yes,¡± she said coolly. ¡°An interesting coincidence for the two of you, to be sure.¡± Luke frowned. ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°The man and woman who attacked you at the South Wall,¡± Aisha said, ¡°They were Ahraran, as well.¡± ¡°How do you know?¡± Luke asked. ¡°Did you capture them?¡± ¡°No, they managed to escape,¡± she said, thin arms folded. She pointed her chin back at Daniels. ¡°This one spotted the marking. Good eye, captain.¡± Daniels nodded to her, seeming to tense under her watch. He relaxed from very straight-backed to regular straight-backed as she turned her face to Luke and Cyrus again. ¡°Marking?¡± Luke asked, interested. Aisha tapped underneath her left eye, and Luke finally noticed a subtle line below the bottom eyelid running across. Tinier lines branched off in various directions, never more than a quarter inch. ¡°The marking of one¡¯s Ahraran clan,¡± Aisha explained. ¡°I am not surprised to hear you do not know of it. It is not a thing of Asundria. When the South Wall captain clashed with the woman, he spotted it.¡± ¡°That was not their only marking,¡± Wolf muttered. All eyes in the room turned to him. ¡°You are telling them, then?¡± Aisha asked. Vander Wolf stared into space for a moment. He seemed¡­ resigned. ¡°Yes,¡± he finally said. ¡°There is no mistaking this boy¡¯s account. To know Vassago Rixator¡¯s handedness is one thing, but to know of the thunderflute¡­ That is proof. You did meet him.¡± Thunder. An apt description. Cyrus breathed, incredulous. Even Luke felt that, somewhat, despite seeing those things with his own eyes. In that moment, it seemed to sink in. He met the Third Ace of Terra Daeva. ¡°The Ace of Asmari Capella,¡± Wolf said, raising a familiar dagger. Daniels had confiscated it from Luke shortly after he had picked it up. ¡°And on the hilt of this¡ª a carving of Cathartes. The Vulture of Death. Symbol of the assassins of Levian Vega.¡± The hair on the back of Luke¡¯s neck stood on end. What? Cyrus bolted upright, breathing hard. ¡°Two? You are saying¡­¡± He couldn¡¯t get the words out. ¡°You are saying my village, my home¡­ is housing two Elites?¡± Wolf nodded gravely. Cyrus sat back down with a thud and a stunned expression. ¡°Phaethon¡¯s Honor¡­¡± he whispered, pale with horror. Even stone-faced Daniels seemed shocked by Wolf¡¯s words. Perhaps he did not believe, or had been holding onto a small hope. Luke had felt that, too, he realized. That was over. ¡°That means¡­¡± Luke trailed off. Two Elites, right outside the gates of Mirastelle. What else could it mean? Two Elites have never done anything together in the brief history of the Empire. Rumor had it, they were an unruly lot that did not get along. Only one man could rein them in. ¡°Amon Munitio means to continue the war,¡± Wolf said, almost a growl. ¡°He discarded the truces he drafted sitting beside Mus Ranboc and snuck right up to our doorstep.¡± Remember the difference between you and I, the past whispered. Remember Elite. Someday, you will learn what it means. Luke felt his teeth grinding in anger. The moment blinked through Luke¡¯s mind, and he broke the silence of the room with a sudden voice. ¡°Thunderflutes. They are called that because they sound like firecrackers.¡± He instantly regretted saying it with Cyrus in the room, even moreso because it seemed so obvious. It wasn¡¯t worth blurting out at all. ¡°What¡¯s this about?¡± Wolf asked. ¡°Rixator fired at you?¡± ¡°Fired? As in used?¡± Luke asked. Wolf nodded, and he went on. ¡°No,¡± he said softly, a hint of regret seeping through his voice. Still, there was no use hiding the truth. ¡°I heard it in the morning, several times from far away. I thought some people in the village were celebrating the First Day for some reason. It seemed strange because I was so close to here, to Ulciscor.¡± The general leaned back in his chair, contemplative. His eyebrows twitched, the thought must have crossed his mind then. ¡°Hold on,¡± Wolf said, frowning. ¡°How could you make the connection? That weapon is handled with the utmost secrecy by the Empire.¡± ¡°I heard it, once,¡± Luke said, voice steadier than his mind. A nameless woman. Eyes of frost and a coat black as night. A bang like burning bamboo. ¡°In the Purge.¡± That seemed to be sufficient. The general breathed out and did not prod further. Cyrus dropped his elbows to the table and held his head. ¡°The constable¡¯s office,¡± he said grimly. ¡°That¡¯s what it was. You are right, Luke. Phaethon, you are right¡­¡± That was it, then. Blood had already been shed. The war had begun, right by Luke¡¯s bedside in a tiny village named Castitas. A name he would never forget again. Vander Wolf rose. ¡°I must confer with my majors. Luke Nixus, Cyrus Alder.¡± Sunken eyes, shadowed by the bulb hanging overhead, passed over the two teenagers. He curtly nodded, once each. ¡°I thank you. Your account has been most helpful. I would like for you to stay with Captain Daniels at his home for the night.¡± Daniels grimaced and made a soft sound, as if choking. Wolf continued, paying it no mind. ¡°There is much to be done, and I may call on you for more information.¡± Wolf saluted, pressing a fist to his chest, and motioned for Daniels to step aside. The captain was whispering something frantically. It grew to a normal volume as Wolf departed, Aisha trailing close behind. ¡°¡ªsurely there must be someone else who can¡ª¡± His words fell away with an abrupt sigh, and he turned back to Luke and Cyrus, glaring. ¡°So,¡± Luke began casually, ¡°What now?¡± Daniels measured them as they stood. His eyes passed over the two boys, wearied and filthy. Their jacket and sweater had both been torn and stained with the dirt and grime of a night in the forest. ¡°First, you¡¯re cleaning yourselves up. You aren¡¯t meeting my wife like that.¡± ¡ª¡ª¡ª ¡°Vega.¡± The name buzzed through the radio transceiver¡¯s speaker in a distorted monotone. That¡¯s me, he thought, amused. So formal. Levian Vega sat with transceiver in hand, leaning back on a straight-backed wooden chair with black boots up on the desk of the former Castitas mayor. The desk was devoid of content¡ª documents, ledgers, and writings all stolen away by the Shield¡¯s Ace. The room felt darker by the movement of the bookshelf across the empty window frame, though it was well-lit. A candle burned diligently near the Elite¡¯s boots, and a fire crackled in the hearth to combat the chill creeping through gaps in the bookshelf. Opposite the bookshelf, Typhos stood equally diligent at the closed door. He was instructed to stand guard, to listen for prying ears and signal if they drew near, and he would obey. He would always obey. Levian glanced at Typhos. He held down a button on the transceiver, then released it a second later and started snickering to himself. He forced himself to stop, then pressed the button again. ¡°Rigel,¡± Levian said in chilling monotone. Grim, serious. Then he let go of the button and burst out laughing again, louder. He nearly missed what the man on the other end said next. ¡°I was not aware of your intentions,¡± Mammon Rigel said. ¡°The two have crossed into the city. I could not stop them from talking. Expect a scouting party.¡± ¡°Very well. Your orders?¡± Levian replied, tone deep, dark. He started snickering as soon as he let go out of the button. ¡°Tapera,¡± he said conversationally to Typhos, wiping a tear from his eye and pointing at the transceiver. ¡°Tapera, I swear. It¡¯s the brooding Flock, but not that kind of brooding. Someone should tell them.¡± Typhos sighed. Levian laughed. ¡°What was that?¡± Levian asked the transceiver casually after missing most of the response. ¡°Patrol the forest,¡± Rigel repeated. ¡°You are authorized to wipe out anyone sent beyond view of the Wall.¡± You are authorized to, was all Levian managed to mouth at Typhos with his best serious face before the snickering took him again. ¡°Understood,¡± Levian said deeply. He nodded several times to himself as if it were the most important order ever, grinning. ¡°What of Rhea?¡± Rigel asked. The Elite¡¯s joyous expression fell. ¡°Rhea is here,¡± Levian answered seriously. ¡°I am sure of it.¡± ¡°I will leave that matter to you,¡± Rigel said. Static noise hung for a moment. He was not finished. ¡°I have chosen a date.¡± Levian¡¯s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Before the shipment, even? The trickster Mammon Rigel was a confident one, it seemed. Comes with being an Elite, I suppose, Levian thought idly. I should know. ¡°Listening,¡± Levian said. ¡°The twenty-second. Twenty days from today. In the early hours, before sunrise. Boreag will deliver the shipment by then. That is when we will execute the plan. The Wall shall open to all.¡± You will support Mammon¡¯s plan, Emperor Munitio had said to he and Asmari Capella both. The plan to crush the infernal gatekeep from inside and out. The soldiers of the Shield. The assassins of the Left Hand. The infiltrators of the Silhouette. A threefold attack. Highlight. ¡°Prepare accordingly,¡± Rigel said. ¡°No more communications unless there is a dire emergency. Rigel, out.¡± ¡°Vega, out.¡± The candle flame danced across Levian¡¯s blue stare until he stood. He paced toward the hearth, deep in thought. Neither small nor large flame could not melt that icy stare. The hearth¡¯s mantel was empty, save for a gourd too small to be of any real use other than perhaps as an old-fashioned coingourd. It had a pattern unlike those he had seen in Vega or Munitio or anywhere else he had visited, naturally decorated with tendrils of bright and dark violet coiling out from the top in random directions. That cap¡¯s carving¡­ was it the tropicbird, Phaethon? The trinket of a long-dead nobleman, then. In any case, the gourd could not hold his attention, and so he turned back to his thoughts. Too long. Too long Mirastelle existed. The country born to oppose the Empire, the country that traded desperate blows to score an undeserved truce nine years past. Finally, it would all fall. And it would begin with that traitor¡¯s haven. 08 - Spark Luke stepped out of the washroom wearing a cyan shirt with a large yellow spiral of three lines curling inward to meet in the middle. His woolen trousers were more or less the same as before, one shade of dark gray. It would do. Not that I was asked, Luke thought in annoyance. Daniels had simply left Luke and Cyrus standing outside at a textile shop¡ª grumbling all the while¡ª and came out with four outfits, two each, and a pair of thick coats suitable for the coming winter. Immediately afterward, they were rushed across the city into a shabby-looking red-bricked building and forced into the washroom one after another with an outfit in hand. The last throes of sunlight shone through a small window in the corridor. The walls of Daniels¡¯s house were plastered a soft orange, almost white with no pattern to speak of. The wooden floor was a similarly light shade of brown and almost-orange. Dark spaces further down the lengthy corridor were somewhat lit by wall-mounted oil lamps. Not those harsh new things, thankfully. Bathing, Luke had ample time to think about what he had seen, and he came to the understanding that while Ulciscor was a populous city, it was nothing like Aetas Origo. The exteriors were not elaborate, fanciful creations dreamt up by some highborn architect. The insides¡ª so far as he had seen¡ª were not vast high-ceilinged open spaces dotted with chandeliers and carpets each individually worth more than himself many times over, instead the interiors were practical places, and on the way to the washroom he could not recall passing a purposeless room or object. There were no broad boulevards carefully lined with rows of trees, no grand plan as if someone had drawn it from the sky. Ulciscor was a place of narrow walkways going one way, wide walkways going another with no regard for beauty, only function. In fact, the walled city seemed haphazardly thrown together, as if they started with the walls and realized there was nothing inside yet. Luke said as much to bother his captor standing straight-backed in the corridor, but the South Wall captain simply nodded in agreement. ¡°Ulciscor was a small town,¡± Daniels said, arms folded. His spear was nowhere to be found, though it still felt as if he were on duty. Perhaps the man thought he was. ¡°A few thousand people, a decade ago. Less, after the emperor ran it through. Now, two hundred thousand strong. The people grew faster than the mortar could keep up. We owe it to Vander Wolf, but even you should know that much.¡± That annoying captain was right about that, at least. Luke was quite familiar with the story of General Wolf. The man who betrayed the emperor at the eleventh hour and drove the Empire¡¯s forces out from the ashes of Lumina, and drove them further still, beyond this city. In a string of desperate battles, Vander Wolf rallied those from both sides and drove Terra Daeva beyond what would become the Walls of Ulciscor. Beyond Mirastelle, for without that man, there would be no border and no country. ¡°Where¡¯s Cyrus?¡± ¡°The study,¡± Daniels said simply, stepping with a soldier¡¯s grace down the corridor. It seemed he was a man who never relaxed, even in his own home. ¡°This way.¡± With a little luck, Luke would become a soldier himself soon. Very soon. Normally, people like him were turned away, too young or not, for a simple reason. Mirastelle did not recruit citizens of Terra Daeva. It was part of the Agreement, the bargain between the Cardinal¡ª Mus Ranboc¡ª and Emperor Amon Munitio. Of course, judging by yesterday, that bargain might not hold by the time Luke turns sixteen. But no one could have predicted a thing like that, and so Luke had another avenue, also simple. He was not a legal citizen of Terra Daeva. If all went well, they would discover he was actually a citizen of Mirastelle. Of the capital, Lumina, in fact. At least, until it burned. Luke and Daniels passed by hanging paintings and scrolls of the Buteo and Cygnus Flocks and plainer pieces of scenery. Not a decade ago, this land was the country of Mintaka, and so the white Swan should have dominated homes, but instead it competed with the sandy brown Hawk, its presence clearly influenced by Vander Wolf. Once, that man was head of the Wolf family and, by birthright, the bishop of Buteo. He had forsaken both when he sided with Emperor Munitio. True, he had betrayed Amon at the eleventh hour, but this place was not a return to the old ways, else it would still be called Mintaka, and northeastern Mirastelle¡ª Ganymede. No, the old ways were dead and gone. That didn¡¯t stop people from trying, praying and hoping for times that simply could not return. The paintings and scrolls swayed in place, lifted by a draft. Luke shivered. Whether from the wind or thoughts of yesterday and days to come, he could not say. The wind, he hoped. He could not afford to lose his nerve. ¡°Your friend had the right idea with the sweater,¡± Daniels said idly. ¡°Spare me,¡± Luke muttered, rubbing his forearms for warmth. Daniels snorted in amusement. It would be an early winter this year, it seemed. At least from what he had seen at the textile shop before being rushed out, Cyrus had not managed to find a fresh pine green sweater, only dark green. Perhaps Luke would be able to stop thinking about colors, flitting across his mind like a songbird in the morning, green and blue and magenta. A very irritating songbird. Magenta? That was new. The study they entered was much like the rooms he had been pushed through upon first arriving, walls painted to match the hallways and two oil lanterns in opposite corners. It was pleasantly warm and surprisingly spacious, though the feeling was somewhat spoiled by thick shelves along two walls packed to the brim with books in all sorts of sizes, spines sometimes matching and other times seemingly arranged haphazardly. Four chairs faced an open hearth in a semicircle, flames flickering, and three of them were occupied, though none appeared to be the captain¡¯s wife. Cyrus was there, and two others he had been told about earlier. Elinor Daniels was a handsome woman with an aged face and brown hair streaked white. Rolan Daniels, was similar, wrinkled and thinning hair long gone complete steel-gray. The captain¡¯s uncle wore thick-framed spectacles and concentrated on his wooden pipe while his wife spoke with Cyrus. ¡°That¡¯s a good recipe. Definitely.¡± Cyrus nodded. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have thought to do it like that. One question though, if¡ª¡± he paused at the sound of Luke¡¯s throat clearing. ¡°Oh, Luke. That took a while, didn¡¯t it?¡± ¡°I¡¯m thorough,¡± Luke said flatly. Opportunities to bathe were rare on the road, but it was only part of the reason. He had picked up a habit of staying as clean as he could. There was a certain drawback to living on the streets that Snare had not tolerated for long. Not long at all. That annoying old man had practically thrown him in a tub the day they met! A distant knock drew Captain Daniels away, and Luke found a spot on the floor against the wall after exchanging greetings with the man¡¯s aunt and uncle. He was never one for small talk. He let his mind wander as Cyrus and Elinor Daniels softly continued their conversation. The hearth¡¯s flames brought painful memories, but he shoved them aside and thought. Thunderflutes. Two Elites. Castitas. It felt like a dream, not one he¡¯d particularly desired, yet not one he¡¯d interrupt. Vassago Rixator did not strike him as a liar, which meant Asmari Capella likely did not have blue eyes. Neither did Gor Munitio, the emperor¡¯s own brother. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. Cifelle Sirius had blue eyes. The woman was the youngest Elite ruling over Aetas Origo and the surrounding region, Sirius itself. But other than the mismatch of his memories and the things he had seen in newspapers in Sirius about her, she was not even an original Elite. The first, and so far, only replacement. Some called her the Seventh Elite. That left Levian Vega, Mammon Rigel, and Beelze Altair. Just three people, one of them the man whose throat he wanted to wrap his hands around, squeezing tighter, tighter, until his eyes burst, his breath came in squeals, his¡ª ¡°Luke?¡± Cyrus asked. ¡°What is it?¡± he asked calmly, unclenching fists hidden beneath the silver and black winter coat he had draped over himself like a blanket. His nails had left marks on his palms. ¡°Captain Daniels wants us,¡± Cyrus said. ¡°Something¡¯s going on. I think he¡¯s leaving somewhere.¡± Luke stood. ¡°Well, let¡¯s see what¡¯s happening,¡± he said, forcing himself to sound relaxed. Inside, he boiled with hatred for the blue-eyed man from his dreams. ¡ª¡ª¡ª Luke held one of the darkest expressions Cyrus had ever seen on a person. Those peculiar red eyes flashed with more intensity and anger than a boy that young¡ª younger than Cyrus himself¡ª had any right to. It was gone in a moment, flashing eyes replaced by deadpan, downturned mouth smoothing out into a neutral line. It seemed there was a bitterness to Luke, something he kept hidden, letting out only when you weren¡¯t looking. Cyrus started down the soft orange-walled hallways the way he came, feeling safer than he had felt in too long, short as it was. This time yesterday, he was speaking to the kindly Mrs. Delphy and fetching the water pack. How long would it be before he could go back? Weeks? Months? He ignored the tiny fearful voice in the back of his mind wondering if he could ever go back home. He would go back. ¡°¡­I don¡¯t care, Daniels,¡± Major Alexis Cade was saying. ¡°This isn¡¯t the first time you¡¯ve had to change your plans for the Guard.¡± ¡°Alright,¡± he sighed, pressing his thumb and index finger against the bridge of his nose. ¡°Straight there, understood.¡± He opened the door, allowing Cade to step outside, then paused and looked back. ¡°You two. Mind your manners and don¡¯t make trouble for Lyla. I¡¯m going out.¡± ¡°When will you be back?¡± Cyrus asked. ¡°Tonight, I¡¯d expect, if not before.¡± He glanced at Luke. ¡°No, you two aren¡¯t invited. In fact, you¡¯re specifically disallowed.¡± ¡°You¡¯re meeting with Vander Wolf to discuss Castitas, then?¡± Luke guessed. Daniels raised his eyebrows, prompting Cyrus to do the same. He was a fast thinker, sometimes. ¡°You talk too much, captain,¡± Cade said idly, folding her arms. ¡°Maybe so,¡± he muttered with a grimace, stepping outside and giving the boys a short wave before shutting the door. ¡°Well, that was something,¡± Cyrus said, turning to face Luke. His eyes met empty air and darted back to catch Luke walking away with a quickness in his step. ¡°Oi, Luke¡ª Luke, where are you going?¡± ¡°I¡¯m going to follow him,¡± Luke said gruffly. ¡°But he said were¡ª¡± Luke stopped. ¡°Specifically disallowed?¡± he said, flat-eyed. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯ve never snuck out when your dad said you couldn¡¯t.¡± ¡°No, never,¡± he said seriously. For some reason, Luke smirked. ¡°Anyway,¡± Luke said, ¡°That¡¯s how it is. I¡¯m going to make use of that back door we came in from and circle around the house, then check out whatever they¡¯re doing. You should stay here. If I let you tag along, you¡¯d stand out like Pelacanus in a library.¡± ¡°Pele¡­¡± He flushed. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be that bad. Would I?¡± ¡°Afraid so,¡± Luke said, patting him on the shoulder. ¡°This way, you can cover me when the family notices I¡¯m missing. I¡¯ll be back before the captain, so do what you can until then. Sound good?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Cyrus agreed reluctantly. Cover him? How was he going to manage that? Hopefully Luke would not be gone too long. With that, Luke walked off. Cyrus stood wonderingly. When had those scarlet eyes regained their spark? ¡ª¡ª¡ª Finally, something Luke was good at. Something to do. He paced down the sparsely decorated hallways, eager to be outside again. Even before his travels northward through central Asundria, he had a preference for strolling about in broad daylight and pleasant breezes. Before the old man had given him a place to come back. Long before, when it had been a necessity to hunt for marks to snatch wallets and food from. Perhaps it was a fondness he was simply born with, or a welcome distraction from the rest of life¡¯s mundanities. He did not care which; he simply accepted it as a part of himself. His eagerness proved a bit too distracting as he crashed into another person turning a corner he had not seen. He heard a feminine yelp as he found himself on his back. Had she pushed him? Yes. A woman stood over him, arms out in front. She was taller than him¡ª even after he stood up¡ª and wore her dark brown hair loose. Tan of skin and dressed in a pale-colored blouse and cardigan, Luke thought that this must be Lyla Daniels, the captain¡¯s wife. ¡°I¡¯m sorry about that,¡± she said, proffering a hand. He rose without assistance, though he couldn¡¯t quite explain why he didn¡¯t simply take her hand. ¡°Not your fault, Mrs. Daniels,¡± he said quickly. ¡°I was walking a bit fast, after all.¡± ¡°Ah, well, that¡¯s all right. You¡¯re Luke, aren¡¯t you?¡± ¡°Yes, but¡­¡± His mind raced. There was no time for this. This city wasn¡¯t as big as Aetas Origo, but he suspected the rule still applied. If a mark left your sight, they were as good as gone. He couldn¡¯t fall too far behind Daniels and Cade. ¡°Sorry, I¡¯ve got use the washroom.¡± He nodded curtly. ¡°Excuse me.¡± She said something else, but it didn¡¯t register. He returned to his brisk pace. He had lost a lot of time talking to Cyrus and falling down like a flightless fool. He did not run into¡ª literally or otherwise¡ª anyone else on the way to the back door. Slipping out as quietly as he would if the old man were resting on his rocking chair nearby, he took in a breath of fresh outdoor air and rounded the house, coming upon a busy street, stretching wide to the left and right. Unexpectedly, it was so crowded he could not spot what he was looking for on either end. Something flashed green in his mind. Perhaps he saw a patch of grass somewhere in his peripheral vision. Just as he began to lose hope, a group of boys parted ways and a flash of glittering gold shone between them. Major Cade¡¯s mantle. Luke hurried down the street after it. 09 - The First Step After traveling for several months, and in spite of living in Aetas Origo for several years, Luke had forgotten what cities were really like. People flowed down walkways and spilled out onto newly-paved roads for still-uncommon automobiles like ocean currents. Some strode quickly, backs straight. Others stepped slow, but they did not trudge as if they did not wish to go where they were going; perhaps they were enjoying the fresh air as much as Luke. Most passersby seemed happy, others so happy it was as if a feather of Nesoenas herself had been placed in their caps, all of which was a stark contrast to the Terra Daevan city he had been living in, where people were neutral or worse, eager to get to where they could be miserable next and shoved each other aside or forward if their paths were obstructed. Here there were the throngs and flowing currents, but there was no pushing or shoving. There were men and women on horseback, of course. That method of travel was timeless, Luke thought, unlike this automobile fad. Some were teams of two or four leading carriages of people or trading goods, others simply a rider or two atop a single horse. It was an odd sort of tranquil chaos. The people of Ulciscor wore predominantly dark colors, most often brown or green or blue of simple but reliable swirlsheep fabric. Some of these types tended to be carrying something, bundles of paper or vegetables to market, a hammer and toolbox or some other assortment of tools to a construction or carpentry job. Others carried containers of prepared¡ªusually hot¡ª food for home delivery. Likely, this food had to be ordered by way of radio booths just small enough to fit a man scattered through the city. They were an older invention compared to the automobile, but the resources needed for their creation and maintenance seemed to hinder progress, and so Luke had not seen any outside of Aetas Origo on his way here. A thing of the cities, really. A smaller town, and you may as well walk to a restaurant. Only in large bustling places such as Ulciscor did it become an issue. Richer folk wore finer outfits of black and silver-trimmed spiralsilk, mostly merchants, Luke guessed. Among the black and silver he spotted several with the familiar Ulciscor Guard¡¯s uniform, patrols to maintain order among the organized chaos of the busy streets. The Guard came in pairs, two men or women at a time, always a pair he could see in the corner of his eye. Mainly, Luke kept his gaze fixed on the golden mantle now just ahead of him. He had closed most of the distance in the beginning, but kept himself comfortably behind Daniels and Cade so as not to be noticed. He passed through narrow streets¡ª some paved, others rocky¡ª between buildings of dark orange and mild brown, which he guessed were like the Daniels residence and held paler walls of similar color inside. They were simple of shape, big boxes mostly, bearing few windows. In fact, on many, he notices arrowslits in place of windows. This place was born of war, and knew it well. Ulciscor was not a city before the emperor was forced out of the country after his great victory in the capital, merely a large town with no walls to speak of. Vander Wolf changed all that, and the people of Ulciscor accepted and respected him. In nine years, it had transformed into all of this. Sadly, those unused walls would be put to the test for the first time, very soon. War was returning to Mirastelle. It was all but inevitable now, with two Elites so close. What would Ulciscor look afterward? Would it stand or fall? Major Cade turned suddenly, and Luke struggled to follow where. He caught sight again of the mantle fluttering on the front steps of an unremarkable building on a mostly mercantile street of farriers and fletchers and blacksmiths, between a cobbler¡¯s shop and a sizable food storefront with rows of neatly arranged stands of fish for sale, freshly caught. He walked between the cobbler¡¯s shop and the unremarkable building as easily as if he belonged there and circled around to the back. There were back steps, which he quietly climbed, taking care not to let the wood creak. A narrow walkway creeped down the side to a side door with a window facing the side of the cobbler¡¯s shop. Luke wondered if the shop had been a recent construction, else why the window? In fact, all of the buildings with windows might be from the original town, before it was run down by one army and rebuilt by a second army. Sound carried through the house, thankfully. The walls were thin from a more peaceful age. ¡°Good,¡± a smooth voice said. Not as deep as his face and reputation might suggest. Vander Wolf. ¡°Major, captain, welcome. Sit, please.¡± ¡°It¡¯s an honor, general,¡± Daniels said respectfully. ¡°And you, sir.¡± ¡°Yes, Daniels.¡± Now that was a deep male voice. The owner was unfamiliar to Luke. ¡°We have much to discuss. You¡¯ve been allowed into a meeting of majors. I still don¡¯t agree with your reasoning, general.¡± ¡°He has proven himself, Vasran,¡± Wolf said warningly. It appeared they had had this conversation before. ¡°He fought Cathartes. There are witnesses. You doubt this kind of trustworthiness?¡± ¡°Cathartes? What have I missed?¡± Vasran asked incredulously. There was a silence, then he continued, ¡°Well, now that he¡¯s here, I see no point in arguing further.¡± Very deep. ¡°Are you finished?¡± a female voice said impatiently. It was not Major Cade¡¯s, but another. It sounded unfamiliar, as well. If it were only majors in the room, that would make her¡­ ¡°Well hello there,¡± a voice whispered. A woman¡¯s face framed by short-cut white hair was peering out the window. Luke jerked back to flee, but stopped as she added, ¡°Luke Nixus.¡± It was the Ahraran woman he had met earlier, Aisha. He didn¡¯t feel fear, but his face burned from the shame of being caught. How had she come so close without making a sound? ¡°Why don¡¯t you come in?¡± Aisha said lazily. Her orange eyes were cool, as if finding an intruder to a meeting of Vander Wolf and his majors were of no concern. Even her smile seemed aloof. ¡°Might as well.¡± Luke sighed as she opened the door. This was not going how he had planned it at all. ¡ª¡ª¡ª ¡°What in the name of all Twelve Flocks Above is this, Wolf?¡± Vasran snapped. It had been a few minutes since Luke had sat down cross-legged at the low table in the center of the room. All of the seats were occupied, Wolf, Vasran, and Daniels sat in plain wooden chairs, Cade and Linden¡ª the other major he had heard speaking¡ª lounged on a cushioned sofa, and Aisha stood at parade rest beside the general. Who was she, anyway? He knew a lot about the Ulciscor Guard, but she was a mystery to him. She still did not wear a uniform¡ª instead clothed in that shoulder-strapped shirt and buckled trousers. Aisha had been whispering with Wolf for several minutes. The call for silence had ended only a second before Vasran¡¯s outburst. Luke knew all of the Guard¡¯s majors, and Major Jorgen Vasran was no exception. Vasran was a square-jawed man with close-cropped blond hair and a similarly cut beard. His figure was enormous, and seemingly all muscle, given his taut silver and black military uniform. The strong blood of Pruinans, to be sure. His blue eyes were hot with fury, and his sun-tanned face had turned red as Cardinalis. A massive bronze hammer, bearing a head as large as Luke¡¯s own head, rested in the corner of the room, and he knew the owner was Vasran. The man was famous for, if nothing else, lugging that thing around all day. ¡°How are we to discuss anything?¡± Vasran asked. ¡°Speak freely, major,¡± Wolf said. ¡°Freely?¡± he sputtered. ¡°In front of a civilian? Are you mad?¡± Vander Wolf fixed that intimidating man with a stare, and the room grew still. Vasran¡¯s enraged expression melted away like a candle out of wax. The general¡¯s decision was not to be questioned, and he did not need words to make it so. ¡°Luke Nixus doesn¡¯t want to be a civilian,¡± Wolf said. His eyes studied Luke intently. ¡°Do you?¡± ¡°No,¡± Luke said calmly, heart racing. ¡°I want to enlist in the Guard.¡± ¡°Are you of age?¡± Major Linden asked sternly. She folded her arms to match legs crossed underneath her ankle-length skirt of silver and black. It was a contrast from Cade¡¯s trousers. Unlike her, this woman was not known as a fighter, but her skill in coordinating and directing large groups for complicated operations. ¡°Yes, Major Linden,¡± he lied. Clip him if he¡¯d let a few weeks get in the way of a chance like this. If they found out the truth later, so be it. ¡°Do you have any proof of that?¡± Linden asked. She waved a hand at him. ¡°You are decidedly lacking in facial hair, boy.¡± ¡°No.¡± The old man did teach me to groom myself. If I had my bag¡­ I have a razor, you know. Then again, losing the document saying I¡¯m not quite sixteen might be a good thing right now. ¡°Why is that?¡± she frowned, furrowing her brow. Her hair was light brown with a faint redness to it, and she seemed to have a bit of muscle herself. For a regular Asundrian, anyway¡ª she was not a hulking Pruinan like Vasran. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Luke looked to the general. He seemed to understand and nodded. ¡°Everyone in this room can be trusted,¡± Wolf said. Luke turned back to Major Linden and answered, ¡°Everything I had is in Castitas. You all know what happened there, right?¡± Most of the majors¡ª and Captain Daniels¡ª tensed at the mention of the Empire-occupied village just outside the city. Only Cade, Aisha and General Wolf maintained their composure. ¡°I don¡¯t,¡± Cade said. ¡°It relates to the southern gate this morning?¡± ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± Vasran asked. ¡°What happened at the gate?¡± Linden also turned to Cade, curious. Wolf held up a hand. The room fell still once more. ¡°I cannot let you enlist,¡± Wolf said. His heart sank. ¡°I am, however, interested in taking you on as a temporary assistant,¡± Wolf said, lacing his fingers and leaning forward. ¡°You tailed Cade and Daniels, correct? They were the last to arrive.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t notice?¡± Vasran frowned at Cade. ¡°Her mantle was easy to pick out in a crowd,¡± Luke explained. ¡°That¡¯s not the point,¡± Linden said, shaking her head. ¡°Cade, you didn¡¯t notice him at all?¡± ¡°I did not,¡± she said. ¡°So the kid kept his distance,¡± Vasran grunted. ¡°You have tailed people before?¡± ¡°I have,¡± Luke answered. ¡°I lived on the streets when I was younger. You learn fast or die fast.¡± ¡°So that¡¯s it,¡± Wolf said. ¡°I see. As it so happens, we could use someone like you, Luke Nixus.¡± ¡°You¡¯re sending him back with the scouting party?¡± Aisha asked. ¡°No,¡± Wolf said. ¡°I think we should bring him with us.¡± ¡°You aren¡¯t serious,¡± Linden scoffed. Vasran looked as though he were going to explode again, but he held his temper. For the moment. ¡°I am.¡± Linden crossed her arms disapprovingly. Vasran, oddly, nodded to himself, as if it were completely normal to bring a fresh recruit on¡­ whatever it was. When the major noticed, she gaped at him. Cade grimaced, eyes fixed on Vasran. It seemed that she didn¡¯t approve of Luke¡¯s presence, but she said nothing. Aisha said nothing, either, and there was no trace of emotion on her face. Her orange eyes did catch him for a brief moment. He glanced down at the Ahraran marking underneath her left eye. Why was an Ahraran serving in the Mirastelle military, anyway? What a mysterious woman. Then again, Terra Daeva had employed assassins from Ahrar. Maybe it wasn¡¯t so odd? But he¡¯d never heard of an Ahraran major in the Ulciscor Guard. Mysterious. ¡°No. No, Linden,¡± Vasran said reluctantly. ¡°Wolf is making a bit of sense here. A bit. Trust is in short supply as of late.¡± ¡°Short supply?¡± Daniels asked. Every eye in the room suddenly fell upon him. The captain looked uneasy, surrounded by so many of his superiors. ¡°The Walls do not spread secrets,¡± he quoted. ¡°Nor do the men of the Walls,¡± Wolf finished. He smiled sadly. The emotion looked strange on his frown-set mouth and sunken, shadowed eyes. ¡°How I wish it were still true.¡± ¡°A captain is one thing,¡± Linden said dryly, ¡°But you will explain this to a boy, Vander Wolf?¡± ¡°The lad says he¡¯s a man,¡± Wolf said, equally dry. ¡°I¡¯ll take his word for it.¡± He eyed Luke, a flat stare as if to say he didn¡¯t quite believe him. Clip them, he did have a razor! General Wolf raked fingers through his hair, and Luke noticed for the first time that the aging man looked very¡­ worn. Not simply a mean old grizzled military commander. No, his face was pure stone, weathered away by the elements. And history. ¡°Ulciscor has a problem,¡± Wolf said. ¡°A spy problem. I¡¯ll spare you the numbers¡ª simply know that they are competitive with the days when I had first become a turncoat. These spies inhabit all three sections of the Wall, as well as the interior and rear battalions. Many are those who have served in the Guard for as long as a year or two. Fortunately, many are also rank and file with little power. I find it very troubling, as do my majors.¡± Vasran nodded again to that. ¡°Investigations have shown that there is no pattern to their hiring origin, place of residence, or their¡­ activities. Carrying messages to strange men in the night who seem to vanish from the city without a trace, observing patrol patterns from afar, and so on.¡± That smooth voice sharpened like a blade. ¡°I suspect they are looking for weaknesses in the Guard. They will be hard-pressed to find many.¡± ¡°You have dealt with these spies?¡± Daniels frowned. ¡°I haven¡¯t noticed anything amiss in South.¡± ¡°We maintain a list, but we have taken no action.¡± Softer, he added, ¡°Not yet.¡± He took a deep breath, closing his eyes. ¡°Letting Empire spies know what we¡¯re about is something I want to avoid. Understand?¡± Luke and Captain Daniels both nodded. Linden clicked her tongue, but said nothing. Wolf opened his eyes. ¡°The Empire has started the mass production of thunderflutes. We have been tracking a shipment for some time. It is heading up through Ursa right now. I think all of us can see what they plan to use them for.¡± The general looked to Luke and did not continue until he nodded. Ursa was a massive sprawling nation directly to the west of Mirastelle, now Empire-occupied like most of Asundria. It was a stronghold, in fact, staring down both Pruina and Mirastelle. Currently, it was under the supervision of a man named Boreag, the Fifth Ace. Rumor said he was a hard-line man who gave no quarter or compromise. The Ursa royal family had been wiped out completely for opposing the emperor. Boreag had overseen that, as well. Outside of this common knowledge, Luke did not know much at all of the place. ¡°I have a different plan,¡± Wolf said heatedly. ¡°We¡¯re going to steal them.¡± Luke expected one or more of the majors to sputter in disbelief again, but they did not. Their faces were hard, serious. They knew about this plan already, and were on board with it. Only Daniels widened his eyes, but he held his silence. This plan could lead to war. But if war was already inevitable¡­ ¡°You¡¯re going to turn the flutes against them when they attack Ulciscor.¡± Luke said. ¡°That¡¯s why you don¡¯t have time to find trustworthy people. They could sabotage this.¡± Linden raised an eyebrow. He couldn¡¯t tell if it meant she was impressed at the deduction or surprised that he had said something so obvious. Perhaps she was simply annoyed he had interrupted Wolf, though the man himself did not seem phased. ¡°Yes,¡± Wolf said. ¡°Truth be told, I¡¯d like to mass produce them myself. Amon¡¯s research team had given me a flute in the old days, but the Cardinal ordered it dismantled and the weapon sworn to secrecy with the few who knew of it shortly after I switched sides and the Agreement was written. I wasn¡¯t about to protest¡ª I felt it wouldn¡¯t be very wise to betray those I had betrayed for. I believe Cardinal Ranboc may reconsider soon.¡± Luke wasn¡¯t sure if he agreed with the sentiment. Mus Ranboc may have been in the right to order that awful creation destroyed. What would warfare look like if every infantryman carried a thunderflute? He felt sick at the thought. Young though he was, he had experienced war firsthand. Dazed and confused, just a child. But he had been there. But the general surely knew who the man with the icy blue eyes was. For the sake of exacting his revenge, he would gather as many flutes as there were in the world for Vander Wolf. ¡°A small team,¡± Wolf explained, ¡°will leave tomorrow for a sizable city to the west called Filose. It is a trading hub and highly likely to be the final destination before the shipment of thunderflutes is taken to Castitas.¡± ¡°Castitas?¡± Cade asked. ¡°That village to the south?¡± Wolf nodded. ¡°I believe the Terra Daevan army is staging there. Luke Nixus here escaped them by a hair. This morning, at the South Wall, Captain Daniels fought off Cathartes assassins in pursuit.¡± Vasran¡ª shocked¡ª glanced at Cade, who met his eyes and shook her head. It seemed this was the first the golden-mantled spearwoman had learned of who exactly she had fought earlier in the day. ¡°It¡¯s a dangerous job, but someone has to do it. Someone has to stand up to Munitio and his sycophants. Someone has to take the first step.¡± The general eyed each of them in turn. ¡°The operation team will consist of myself, Aisha, Major Cade, Captain Daniels, and Luke Nixus. If things appear unfeasible, we¡¯ll return to Ulciscor and risk a raid with our own forces on the shipment while it is en route to Castitas. I don¡¯t believe it will be heavily guarded, though. The Empire knows we have spies of our own, and bolstering defenses on a seemingly innocuous shipment of goods would paint a large target for investigation. Recall that we are not meant to know of Castitas at this time. Major Linden, I need you to direct the efforts of the scouting party. Send one out in the morning. Find out a rough count of how many soldiers are occupying the village and the surrounding area.¡± ¡°Understood, General Wolf,¡± she said immediately, tapping fist to chest in salute. The others, Luke included, nodded sharply. ¡°Use Fauke,¡± Wolf told Linden, ¡°We¡¯ll need that man¡¯s skill to outwit Cathartes. They are likely to be crawling all over the Pines between the Walls and the army. Choose one or two more to accompany him. Vasran, you are to remain on high alert. I want you personally rotating between all three Walls and communicating with the interior and the rear. Those spies may act up, and the Empire may try to go around us. Don¡¯t let them. Am I clear?¡± ¡°Clear as crystal, general,¡± Vasran said. ¡°Good,¡± Wolf said firmly. He scanned the room. ¡°Are there any questions?¡± ¡°When do we leave for Filose?¡± Daniels asked after a moment. ¡°Tomorrow evening. The reports indicate the shipment will arrive in the night. Supplies must be gathered and loaded into an automobile before then. Aisha and I will handle this.¡± ¡°Is Cyrus trustworthy?¡± Luke asked. ¡°I don¡¯t see why not,¡± Wolf said, ¡°But he cannot join us, and I must ask you to keep the mission secret until it¡¯s done at the very least. The lad is native to Castitas, an honest villager. He can offer no help.¡± ¡°That¡¯s just it,¡± Luke said. ¡°He¡¯s from Castitas. Maybe he can¡¯t help us, but what about the scouting party?¡± ¡°I see what you mean,¡± the general said, ¡°Linden, have Fauke talk to the lad tonight. See if he can get anything out of him.¡± ¡°Yes, general.¡± ¡°Any other questions?¡± Silence held. ¡°Then you are all dismissed.¡± 10 - An Asset ¡° he stands, right beside the man he was supposed to be following secretly! Honor-plucked fool! Cover him! ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° him that way. He had absolutely no interest in joining the military. His mission in life was to feed and care for people, not fight and kill them. ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡ª¡ª¡ª ¡° very deeply. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. very bad time to pass through Altair, much like young Luke. ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡ª¡ª¡ª ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° was happening, even a sliver of information. ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° 11 - Parting Luke blinked awake against the rain. He shifted to shade his eyes and felt something rip apart at his back. Origo Times, he thought ruefully. Cheapest newspaper in the city. Wonder why. Water beading down the side of the dumpster increased to trails. More flowed at his legs. It was a storm, all right. The sky had drained of color, the clouds a rumbling dark mass stretching across that gloomy gray canvas. There was no such thing as a good day with a sky like that. Sandals clacked off the pavement, splashing water. There was a third splash accompanying the clacks, a cane glistening with raindrops. The sounds stopped, and his ears returned to the pattering downpour. ¡°What are you doing?¡± the old man said, and Luke saw that he was looking down at him. Rain ran down his cane and dripped off the umbrella in his other hand. Wrinkles and scars littered his face like the aftermath of a battlefield. He held himself perfectly steady in spite of the apparent need for a cane. ¡°What¡¯s it look like?¡± Luke muttered. ¡°Sleeping. Beat it, old man.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t call me an old man,¡± the old man said. It was not his voice. ¡°And get up. We have a lot of ground to cover.¡± Realization struck, and the world vanished. Captain Deen Daniels stood over him with a bucket in hand. ¡°Get up,¡± Daniels grunted, ¡°or I¡¯ll douse you again.¡± ¡°I¡¯m up,¡± he said groggily, sitting up on a comfortable mattress Elinor Daniels had prepared the night before. Dreaming of that day, was he? A nice change of pace from the places his mind usually took him. The memory of light that shouldn¡¯t have shined skittered across his surface of his thoughts, but he buried it deep. An hour later, he walked the streets of Ulciscor alongside Captain Daniels, clad in a coat of the city¡¯s black and silver colors overtop his second shirt with the same design as yesterday¡¯s of a yellow spiral on the chest laid over a cyan canvas. The coat¡¯s silver was more of a muted gray in this swirlsheep fabric. Sturdier, but not as enticing to the eye as spiralsilk. Occasionally, passersby would gawk at his scarlet eyes, but he had long since learned to pay them no mind. Aetas Origo had plenty of fools who would often ask him outright if he was related to the emperor. The general mood of the crowds still amazed him. There was a hum to the streets, from hawkers announcing newspapers and other wares, pockets of people chattering, the clatter of horse hooves and the rumble of wagon wheels. There was a certain sort of life to cities, but none he had ever been to had looked quite so pleased. Back home, the sudden cry of a hawker would cause those trudging near him to grimace in annoyance, men would keep to themselves and speak only to those they had business with, and those clipping automobiles were far more common in the Empire. They passed by that odd mixture of buildings old and new, the old displaying large windows untouched or replaced by war, the new with much smaller windows or even none at all, only arrowslits. All of them had slate roofs or similar, no thatch, only durable materials. When the Razing came to Mintaka, Amon Munitio had implemented great catapults bearing heavy stones. The man had brought the art of warfare to Asundria in an eyeblink. Not long before Luke was born, men with swords or spears would have sufficed. Daniels looked relaxed, but he moved with the grace of a soldier, treading lightly and glancing occasionally elsewhere. It was probably all unconscious. He wore his captain¡¯s uniform, black and silver stitched with the mark of his station at the South Wall. The sun was high on the morning of the third day of the Imperial year. The clouds seemed as high, feathery things spaced apart in the vast blueness of the sky. The city¡¯s smell was not as pungent as Aetas Origo, though it still wasn¡¯t very pleasant compared to the unpopulated wilderness he had traversed in the last several weeks. He noticed that there were not as many dumpsters, and those he spotted were closed and carefully maintained. Vander Wolf kept a clean city. Of course, Luke wouldn¡¯t complain. Those unkept, haphazard dumpsters in Aetas Origo had made fine beds. Sometimes, anyway. A few newspapers would do the job, otherwise. He stopped suddenly. ¡°There¡¯s no homeless.¡± Daniels¡¯s own boots halted and he turned toward Luke. ¡°What was that?¡± Daniels asked over the hum of the city. ¡°Where are Ulciscor¡¯s homeless? We¡¯ve been walking and walking, and I haven¡¯t seen any. I didn¡¯t see any yesterday, either.¡± ¡°General Wolf puts them to work in the Guard,¡± Daniels said. ¡°If not on watch, then in the kitchens or washrooms. The discipline is good for them. Most stay.¡± Luke nodded slowly, and they resumed walking. Was the Guard really so great a place? He admired Vander Wolf¡¯s role in recent history, but never the Guard itself. To him, it always felt like a means to an end, whether it be defending a city or tracking a man with blue eyes down. He knew, though. When you slept on newspapers, and someone approached you offering more, anything was fine. This rain sure is something. Let¡¯s find some shelter together. It wasn¡¯t much longer that they came to an open square with a smaller circular pattern on the stones, outlining a large stone fountain spraying clear water into the air. The stone had been carved by a master artisan into Cygnus the Swan with wings raised, splashing in water both real and stone. Several benches rested at the fountain¡¯s edge, and seated upon one of them was Cyrus accompanied by a tall, broad-shouldered man and another ridiculously tall, broad-shouldered man. The two of them did not wear the uniform of the Guard, but rather sported the same outfit as Cyrus, a long-sleeved shirt, predominantly pine green, and a pair of trousers the color of soil. Daniels grimaced. ¡°Something wrong?¡± Luke asked. ¡°That man, Fauke. He¡¯s too¡­ loose.¡± ¡°You¡¯re too strait-laced,¡± Luke said offhandedly. Daniels grimaced again. They stepped toward the bench, and the three stood in unison. Cyrus struck him as a bit different. Something about the way he carried himself and his expression was more resolute than before. It was Cyrus who asked to meet Luke before going off. Daniels had told him shortly after waking what had happened. They had both managed to wrap themselves in the coming conflict in their own way, it seemed. Odd. Cyrus seemed too bright for that. Luke thought fondly of him after their short time traveling together, but he didn¡¯t think of them as friends. He didn¡¯t think of anyone as a friend, except, perhaps, a boy he had met several years ago, in the most interesting week of his life in Aetas Origo. Still, it was apparent that Cyrus felt the opposite way. Old man Snare had told him once that a person in an extreme situation tended to form an emotional connection with whomever was with them at the time, even if it were a hostage and their taker. Unfortunately, there was no room for that in his heart. He had to keep his hate fresh and sharpened for the man with blue eyes. ¡°Luke,¡± Cyrus said. ¡°Thank you for giving me this opportunity.¡± ¡°Huh? What¡¯d I do?¡± ¡°You inspired me.¡± Cyrus grinned. ¡°To sneak out when I¡¯m not supposed to.¡± Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. He paused. Then, he returned the smile. ¡°How dangerous is this, anyway?¡± Cyrus looked to Fauke. The man shrugged and said, ¡°We¡¯re keepin¡¯ our distance for this one. Done hundreds o¡¯ missions durin¡¯ the war, me and Korsak. We¡¯ve dealt with Cathartes plenty o¡¯ times. Should be fine, long as the lad here doesn¡¯t start stampin¡¯ his feet or shoutin¡¯ his head off. Just gonna get a quick peek o¡¯ the village and scuttle back.¡± Korsak nodded solemnly. ¡°I see,¡± he said, and realized he could think of nothing else to say. True, they had only known each other for two days, but¡­ he really wasn¡¯t so bad. For a moment, the only sound was the ever-present hum of the city and the rushing water of the Swan¡¯s glistening stone fountain. Fine. ¡°Take care, Cyrus.¡± Luke held out his hand. Cyrus clasped it. ¡°Take care, Luke.¡± After that, they went their separate ways. Cyrus would be leaving right then and there¡ª they had only delayed so Luke could see him off. As for the trip to Filose, it would not be until sundown. ¡°So,¡± he said, spinning to face the captain after his¡­ friend had departed. ¡°What now?¡± Daniels sighed. ¡°Unfortunately, I have to bring you to work. It¡¯s my shift at the gate today.¡± Oh, what he wouldn¡¯t give for a paint-drying contest right about now. This was going to be a long day. ¡ª¡ª¡ª Levian Vega drove the knife in deeper. ¡°Stay still,¡± Levian said softly. ¡°Still. Good.¡± The Ahraran assassin named Zaba obeyed, wincing as sharp metal sank into his shoulder. His mouth was gagged by a strip of cloth, and his arms and legs were affixed by straps to an upright board. Levian was a master of the arts, he knew precisely where he could harm but not kill. Typhos watched impassively, standing by his master¡¯s side with hands hidden beneath his ragged cloak. Niya watched with nearly equal dispassion, but he could just faintly see a line on the woman¡¯s face twitch as her twin brother was stabbed. Typhos¡¯s master had not taken kindly to their empty-handed return. They were in a vacant house some streets away from the constable¡¯s office and the mayor¡¯s residence, a private place away from the prying eyes of Capella¡¯s brown-and-yellow soldiers. Sunlight bled through thin, dark sheets hung across the windows, barely illuminating an abandoned kitchen with chairs moved aside and a table still bearing a cold breakfast two days past its intended time of eating. ¡°You¡¯re doing great, Zaba,¡± Levian said soothingly, polar blue eyes hard and lips curled up in a smile. ¡°Very good, very good. Why can¡¯t you be this obedient all the time?¡± ¡°Forgive me, Master Vega,¡± he mumbled after his screaming ceased. Previously, the siblings had tried to explain themselves. In Typhos¡¯s opinion, it was a very reasonable series of events. Not much could be done about those two escaped boys¡ª they knew for certain now that one was Cyrus Alder, the other likely the traveler who had left his bag in the mayor¡¯s office¡ª nor could anything be done about that troublesome Guard. The situation had spiraled completely out of control. Only, Levian did not see it that way, and that was enough. ¡°I forgive you,¡± Levian said solemnly, twisting the knife. ¡°I forgive you, Zaba.¡± This time, the assassin screamed in agony, muffled by the cloth. He shook in his binds helplessly. His body shuddered, eyes unfocusing and refocusing, and his breath returned in heaving gasps. Levian released the knife¡ª leaving it buried¡ª and dusted his black-gloved hands, walking away as if he had become bored with a game. ¡°Tend to him,¡± Levian said idly to Niya. Colder, he added, ¡°And when next I call you, do not fail me again.¡± Niya dropped to one knee as he passed. ¡°As you say, Master Vega.¡± ¡°Come, Ty,¡± Levian called. He followed his master out the back door onto the sunlit streets of desolate Castitas. Some of the tiny, thatched buildings were occupied again¡ª mostly by Cathartes, Levian¡¯s personal forces. The bulk of Capella¡¯s army was a few days off yet. Only one company, a drop in the ocean, had entered the village with the Elite himself. Were it not for that imposing wall, that army alone would likely be enough to overwhelm Ulciscor. They made their way to the mayor¡¯s residence, a secondary base of operations inside the village, where the two pairs of Elites and Aces had taken the rooms for personal quarters. It was the only other place in Castitas that did not look shoddy or lacking in craftsmanship. Crossing past an encircling white fence and a delicate stone-slabbed path, Levian and Typhos went inside. The Third Elite, The Emperor¡¯s Shield¡ª Asmari Capella¡ª ate quietly at a long white table in the spacious kitchen, snatching a piece of mutton with a silver utensil from a larger portion on a dinner plate. A drinking gourd with the cap hanging off the side waited for its turn, its swirling pattern a mismatch of light red and violet curling across a dark blue canvas. Those colored as such were the gourds of Capella. The woman herself was of middling height, though she was seated on a high stool with a soft white cushion. Her face was hard and weathered and topped by short brown hair. Hazel Capellan eyes recognized the two of them as they entered and the Elite nodded slightly. One thing that struck Typhos as odd was the woman¡¯s skin tone, light for a Capellan, especially once-nobility. She was flanked by two soldiers at parade rest on either side. One of them was her Ace, Vassago Rixator. ¡°Vega,¡± Asmari said in acknowledgment. ¡°Asmari,¡± Levian said. Vassago frowned, likely at the disrespectful usage of his Elite¡¯s forename. Despite being a conversation between two of the most powerful people in all of Asundria, it was rather mundane and uneventful. Asmari Capella was not one for provocation, similar to Vassago. Small talk soon turned to legitimate discussion about the Shield¡¯s army, mainly specifics about the positioning and rationing of the main body. There was a certain curiosity to his master, a thirst for the inner workings of everything, and warfare strategy was no exception. Typhos listened intently, as instructed. He was not there to learn of strategy, but something else entirely. A clue, a hint, a whisper, anything about Rhea. His master was convinced that Asmari and Vassago were hiding the terrorist, knowingly or otherwise. Too many of Rhea¡¯s activities had connections¡ª albeit loose connections¡ª to their military. Just the other day, there was the man they had hunted down. Though he was an officer in Boreag¡¯s division of the Terra Daevan army, he had transferred two years prior from Capella¡¯s. It was not unusual for a soldier to transfer branches for one reason or another, but his master saw a pattern, and after many months and dozens of leads, loose connections to the Third Elite¡¯s military branch were piling up. He could glean nothing from the conversation, though, and he told Levian as much when they retired to their quarters for the evening. A member of Cathartes, a woman with short-cut dark blonde hair, bowed her head to them as they entered. She wore a long-sleeved shirt and trousers, both dark to conceal. Grendelle, he thought her name was. ¡°Is that so?¡± Levian said after he had finished reporting on his observation. ¡°Yes, I didn¡¯t catch anything either.¡± ¡°I apologize, Master Vega,¡± he said. Levian fell back on the bed he sat upon, crossing his arms behind his head. A very vulnerable position, but Typhos dared not strike. He felt the Shadow¡¯s presence quite strongly on this night. And besides, why would he strike his master down? That was foolish. ¡°Rhea¡­¡± Levian muttered. Rhea. If you asked Levian, he would say the name belonged to the greatest threat to the Empire since its inception. That name came from torturing the terrorist¡¯s underlings, and they would not give more. They were a fiercely loyal lot, something that could not be said of most, nearly all soldiers. That was the point of soldiers, though, he had been taught. A soldier aims where pointed and does not question the morality of his actions. The same cannot be said of Rhea¡¯s underlings, however. All of them display a sort of fervency for some unknown cause. That cause thus far has involved theft, primarily of supplies. Storages of grain, barrels of water, stockpiles of arrows and weapons, even information. Somehow, they had even acquired an outline of the secretive Highlight plan. That was concerning. It did not bode well for the Shield¡¯s Ace. ¡°I think you are right to be suspicious of Rixator,¡± Typhos said softly. ¡°He is who he is.¡± Vassago Rixator was the nephew of Michel Rixator, a major figure in the civil war that led to Terra Daeva¡¯s founding. Michel sat by Ganymede¡¯s side as talks with Munitio broke down, and later stood by him in the war itself, lending troops and support. It was far too easy to think of his nephew as a traitor by association. ¡°I know.¡± Levian frowned. ¡°I am often right. Amon, wise though he may be, does not believe Rhea can threaten him. He is naive, sometimes. He does not believe a single person can topple him.¡± He smiled wryly. ¡°But is he himself not a single person who toppled most of Asundria? Ironic, for one so smitten with the individual¡¯s kingdom.¡± Typhos said nothing. ¡°Well,¡± Levian said, sitting up, ¡°I think it¡¯s about time to get back to business. Ty, patrol a bit, will you? Keep the rookies in line.¡± ¡°Understood, Master Vega,¡± he said, bowing. Then he left. 12 - Boon A breeze ruffled Luke¡¯s open coat and hair as he lounged on the grayish grass against an enormous stone segment of the Ulciscor Wall. The gate remained tightly shut to his left, and an open field spread out from it before becoming encircled by the Pines a short distance away, creating a small pocket in which there could be no cover for an invading enemy. The parapet wall loomed high above, soldiers crossing back and forth on patrol periodically, the thumping of their boots quiet from afar. Captain Deen Daniels wore the silvery armor of the Guard, resting on the pommel of his spear, driven point-down into the earth. He watched the edge of the Pines, wary. The guardsman was ashamed that he had seen the two assassins so slowly. He had confessed so himself to Luke a short time ago. Now, he stood in silence, dutifully defending the stronghold of Mirastelle. To either side, they were flanked by three soldiers each. One he had come to learn was a tall man in silvery armor with steel-gray hair and iron-colored eyes, Lieutenant Arston. In spite of his hair, he was not old. Rather, he looked only a few years older than Luke. It was a common trait of the people of Munitio. The others were his subordinates. With all of the extra hands, it was clear that the South Wall was no longer a place of least concern in the eyes of General Wolf and his majors. Luke did not daydream, not this time. All of his thoughts were pinned to the coming night, to Filose. How were just five people meant to rob the Empire of a highly-treasured shipment? It seemed suspicious, almost. Vander Wolf was famous for plans so unorthodox that his allies often called him a fool until said plans were successful. Then, they didn¡¯t know what to say. Luke didn¡¯t like the uncertainty, but¡­ anyway, he had been thinking about this all day and had gotten nowhere. The sun had past its zenith, and evening would be coming. He shut his eyes and yawned, and when he opened them, a white-haired woman in a plain shirt, buckled trousers, and boots was standing inches away from his face. He jerked his head back in surprise and smacked into stone just as he realized it was Aisha. He glanced up with annoyance, rising and rubbing the back of his head. Aisha was looking down at him, that Ahraran marking striking underneath her eye. She did not laugh, but she was smirking. Somehow, that irritated him more than a laugh would have. ¡°Hello again, Luke Nixus.¡± He flushed. This woman took joy in sneaking up on him, didn¡¯t she? ¡°Hello, Aisha,¡± he said after a moment, face still red. She smiled again. ¡°Ah, it¡¯s you,¡± Daniels said, walking over. ¡°Aisha, right? You used the side entrance.¡± Two of the closest guards glanced to see what was going on and began to wander over, but a sharp look from Captain Daniels sent the pair back to their duties. ¡°Yes, to both,¡± she answered. The side entrance was a camouflaged stone door a short distance off. Luke had not spotted them until Daniels explained it to him, but there were several. Ordinarily, they only open from the Wall¡¯s interior, but she must have unlocked the mechanism and come through. ¡°Is this about tonight?¡± Daniels said, lowering his voice. ¡°No, no,¡± Aisha said idly, waving a hand. ¡°I¡¯d just like to borrow Luke for a bit. I promise to return him later.¡± ¡°Er, well, go ahead.¡± The captain turned to leave and took up his position again. He wiped at his forehead with a soft part of his gauntlet before resting his hands on his spear. He knew now that Daniels was uneasy around Aisha, because he did not know her, and yet she seemed to be Wolf¡¯s primary bodyguard. It was strange that even an Ulciscor Guard captain had no idea who she was, but perhaps it made her job easier? Supposedly, even the Guard couldn¡¯t be trusted these days. ¡°Shall we?¡± she said coolly, striding off without waiting for an answer. He reluctantly followed her through the side entrance. Through the door, the Wall¡¯s interior was basic but functional, stone all around with connecting hallways and stairways going up and even down leading to small closet-like rooms where the men of the Wall took their breaks if they did not want to venture back into the city. The stairs had some kind of metal framework underneath them, likely a trap that when sprung would send the planks tumbling to the ground, denying an enemy that had breached the entrances further access. Luke couldn¡¯t fathom how they¡¯d get this far, anyway. It was those gates or nothing, and that endeavor would take quite some time and effort with catapults or siege rams. They passed through into Ulciscor proper and trekked down a few side streets. All of the buildings in this district had tiny windows or narrow arrowslits¡ª likely, this entire area had been a battleground during the war. ¡°You haven¡¯t asked where we¡¯re going,¡± Aisha said. She strode toward an alleyway with squat stone homes tightly packed together. She glanced at him, and he shrugged in response. Just before it seemed they would venture into yet another street, she stopped at the edge of the alleyway and fished a key from her pocket, unlocking a sliding door. That was interesting. Sliding doors were more common in Shinkai or¡­ Ahrar. Could this be her home? Aisha gently slid the thick wooden door open, gliding softly over stone grooves, and stepped inside. Luke followed. Inside, it was much of the same as the Daniels residence. Sparse of furniture, plain, softly-colored walls. There were no tapestries or paintings of birds, though. Ahrarans generally did not believe in the Flocks. Instead, there were beautifully woven carpets with geometric patterns, two square carpets in the spacious room at the front of the house and a third, longer one spanning down a corridor. He heard the door slide shut and a lock click. Aisha dropped the key back into her pocket and exhaled. What were they doing here? ¡°Finally,¡± she said, opening a thin cabinet and reaching into the top drawer. ¡°I¡¯ve felt exposed without these.¡± Aisha pulled out two matching curved knives dressed in sheaths, the design a particularly wicked-looking green and black scribblesnake with horns above its eyes. The knives themselves were wide as her forearms and half as long. ¡°And those are?¡± ¡°These?¡± she asked, pushing with her thumbs, letting the leather sheaths slide away and drop to the carpeted floor. A sinuous curve trailed down the blades. ¡°These are what I¡¯m going to kill with, today.¡± And then she lunged at him. Green! The world seemed to slow as a feeling of adrenaline took a sudden, sharp hold on his body. The Ahraran woman flashed forward, right-handed knife first. He took a step to the right, the knife thrusting wide. He pulled himself harder back and to the right as she slashed from her left. Luke spared only a heartbeat on the front door¡ª no wonder she locked it again!¡ª before circling behind her and dashing down the corridor. He ran fast, faster than he thought he could. A second set of footfalls told him she was not losing much ground. The corridor led him past some side doors¡ª useless, the time it would take to get them open would end with knives in his back¡ª and eventually took him through an open doorway into what he immediately recognized as a kitchen, though with a few, strange appliances that he did not recognize. Probably Ahraran. The question was, where were the kitchen knives? There. He spotted a wooden knife holder sitting on the counter, several hilts sticking out. The footfalls behind him stopped for an instant, and he knew he had to move. Aisha cleaved air as he barreled through her kitchen toward those hilts, knocking aside an empty pot with a handle sticking outward. He grabbed a handful of utensils off the counter¡ª chopsticks and soup spoons, mostly¡ª and flung them behind. A rush of air and a clang of metal told him she had batted them all away. He dove for the knife holder and grabbed what he could, two straight kitchen knives only good for cutting fish and meat, serrated and mismatched in size. Understanding that he had absolutely no idea what he was doing¡ª and that he was probably going to die¡ª he spun to confront her. Her eyes were ferocious and fixed upon the weapons in his arms. She glanced up and made a small smile, swinging both knives. Somehow, the world seemed slow enough that he was able to intercept them with his own flimsy counterparts, though he dropped the smaller knife in his left hand from the force of the impact. He pulled away, metal grinding as their blades parted. He could not spot the symbol of Cathartes on the hilt of her twin knives, but he knew that it must be there. Why she was trying to kill him was plain. He knew too much. Far too much. She stepped toward him. What was this woman¡¯s relationship to General Wolf? He would never find out. He could feel the blue-eyed man cackling at him. Aisha raised her knives, and Luke lowered his own and threw it aside. He braced himself to avoid the attacks. He would duck and dodge as long as he could, but he had a feeling she would win in endurance. She slashed, first outward, then upward at an angle. The blades narrowly missed him. Instead of taking another step, she raised an eyebrow. ¡°I thought you had given up,¡± Aisha said, still smiling faintly. ¡°I did,¡± he said. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°And?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not gonna make it free,¡± he laughed. Laughed! That feeling of adrenaline was working wonders. ¡°Work for it.¡± ¡°That sounds rather tiring,¡± she said, and walked over to the table in the center of the kitchen, tossing her knives on top with a clatter and plopping down in a chair. ¡°Not interested.¡± What? Luke stood still, and realized he was breathing hard. He hadn¡¯t run that far, had he? Aisha lounged in that chair as if she had been sitting in it all along. ¡°What do you mean? You¡¯re giving up?¡± ¡°Giving up at what, exactly?¡± she said, eyeing him coolly. ¡°At trying to¡­¡± Kill me. ¡°Trying to kill you?¡± Aisha asked. ¡°What gave you that idea?¡± ¡°You said so,¡± Luke said, panting. ¡°I never said I was going to kill you,¡± she said. She was wearing that small smile again. ¡°You must not be very good at listening.¡± He stared at her. ¡°It was just a¡­ a joke?¡± ¡°More or less.¡± Her smile broadened. His mouth hung open. It was a joke? She had tried to cut his throat open as a prank! What was wrong with this lady? ¡°You move quickly,¡± Aisha said. ¡°I wanted to see for myself that you were fit for tonight. The majors may take Wolf¡¯s blessing as proof, but I do not.¡± Not just a joke, then. She was testing him. Now it all made sense. His muscles loosened, and that feeling of adrenaline faded away. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you say this was sparring?¡± he asked. ¡°I could have injured you, or worse!¡± She laughed raucously, and Luke¡¯s face reddened. ¡°I appreciate the concern,¡± she said after her laughter had finally died down, still smiling. ¡°But that doesn¡¯t tell me how well you perform in a life or death situation. You were sufficient, by the way. I won¡¯t raise any complaints.¡± ¡°Well, thanks for that.¡± Luke grimaced. ¡°Come on,¡± she said, rising and walking toward one of the fallen knives. ¡°Let me show you how to handle some weapons. Your grip is terrible.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t stab people for a living,¡± he muttered. ¡ª¡ª¡ª Deen Daniels, First Captain of the South Wall, was a man of routine and diligence. He watched the carved-out edge of the Pines in quiet concentration, day after day, and today was no exception. What was an exception, however, was Lieutenant Arston and the others close by, good soldiers with work ethic to match his own. Most often they patrolled from atop the Wall itself, but recent events had brought them down to intercept foes and maintain a greater vigilance than one man alone could. He trusted them with his life. He never thought that trust would actually be put to the test during his lifetime, after the war ended and the Agreement was signed, but the world had a strange way of working sometimes. He knew very well what the other regiments thought of the South Wall. It was a drain on resources, and an entrance seldom used by travelers. Those two boys¡ª and their pursuers¡ª were the first visitors in weeks. It ought to be closed up and abandoned. What use had Ulciscor of a gate that faced the Crack? On the other hand, there were those who said it was a dumping ground for the city¡¯s trash. A place to put the useless members of the Guard. It was not a popular opinion, but such words were whispered nonetheless. They had been said to Deen¡¯s face more than once over the years, mostly by soldiers in the Second Regiment, the Southwest Wall. That was the important gate, they said, and they were right. The Southwest Wall maintained a near constant stream of visitors from dawn to dusk. They prided themselves on being the very entity that separate Terra Daeva and Mirastelle. He wished there was stronger unity among the Regiments, but wishing would not make it so, as his father had been fond of saying. In the coming days, the entire Guard would rally behind General Wolf, and that was enough. The air was pleasantly crisp on his face, not quite cold, but definitely not warm. Inside the silvery armor of the Guard, he was sweating. There was no getting around that, not anymore. The armor would be needed for what was coming. At least winter was close. That would slow forces from Munitio, a boon for Mirastelle if this really was an all-out invasion. The sun was long past its peak, nearly to setting, and Luke Nixus had not returned. Deen assumed he would not be seeing him again until it was time for departure. In fact, it was about time¡­ It was not a moment later after the thought that they were relieved from watch duty. Deen heard a gauntleted hand rap a few times on the metal side of hidden door built into the stone and looked toward it. There, he saw the Second Captain standing beside the opened door. That was Velox, a spindly blond-haired Mintakan man with an impressive knack for the spear. Deen had known the man for years. At times too interested in fooling around, but his heart was in the right place. Deen voiced the order to swap, and he, Arston, and the others were soon filing into the Wall after their positions had been taken up by Velox and his own subordinates. He made the short trip to his quarters inside the Wall and nearly jumped at the sight of General Wolf waiting inside, seated with his boots up on a tiny piece of furniture. ¡°Ah, Captain Daniels. Excellent. Do you need a moment?¡± ¡°Not particularly, general. Are we leaving, then?¡± The grizzled man stood, passing Deen and starting into the hallway. ¡°Soon. First, there is a task I must see to. Will you accompany me?¡± ¡°Of course, sir,¡± Deen said, turning. His armor clinked as he tapped fist to chest in salute. They entered the city proper, soon striding up the wide stone steps of the Council Building, seat of the government in Ulciscor. Certainly, the most important sanctuary in all of Mirastelle outside the capital. Without this city, Mirastelle was nothing more than a dream of the departed. Venturing within was a rare experience for Deen, but he did not have time to gawk at the high ceilings and thick pillars, the cavernous hallways bearing marble floor tiles designed perhaps a little too intricately for the simple, matter-of-fact style of the rest of the city. Vander Wolf strode ahead with purpose, stone-like face chiseled with a sense of determination and confidence. Clerks and laborers parted from their path as they went deeper, reaching the inner halls of the structure. Further in, the whole place seemed to get more luxurious, almost wastefully so. Of course, though Deen was only a simple man of the Guard, anyone knew politicking often required appearances to be deceiving. Perhaps the lavishness had been used to put emissaries of Terra Daeva and the other Asundrian nations at ease, where they would visit and find here a nugget of familiarity in this serious, almost solemn city. There was an intolerance for games in war-born Ulciscor, but here, here they could pretend. There was something peculiar he noticed. Some men narrowed their eyes at the general, or turned their head with a frown, or similar as the pair crossed by. Not all, but some. There didn¡¯t seem to be a pattern to the people, neither age nor gender nor station. What was that about? Was there a rift between the military and the bureaucracy? Or something more personal? Why had General Wolf waited for him in his quarters? Was a bodyguard in the Ulciscor Council Building necessary? He was about to ask the man directly when Wolf stopped at a beautifully carved darkwood door bearing the golden nameplate of Maro Ren and turned to him. ¡°Wait here, Captain. I must speak with the mayor. See that we are not disturbed.¡± Deen nodded, and the general entered to confer with Mayor Ren. It was a thick door, properly soundproofed, so he could hear nothing as he took to parade rest with a soldier¡¯s diligence. He pondered those strange stares and frowns for a time. Could they be related to what the general was so concerned about? Had these supposed Guard spies also infiltrated the bureaucratic side of Ulciscor, here in the Council Building? That was more than worrying. It was plausible. After all, Amon Munitio, the great warlord of the modern age, could not breach the Walls by traditional methods. Such subterfuge seemed all but inevitable. But then, why had General Wolf let the spies go on festering like this? Surely now, on the cusp of war, it was time to deal with them. Perhaps that¡¯s what the meeting inside was about. Flocks, it wasn¡¯t Deen¡¯s responsibility, but¡­ a man who could press a knife to your neck while you slept was surely the priority, even during wartime. Especially during wartime, when leadership became critical. When Vander Wolf emerged from the mayor¡¯s office, his stony face seemed somehow even more weathered than before, as if he had just heard reports of losses following combat. Deen did not ask after what had happened inside¡ª he¡¯d have been let in, otherwise. The general exhaled softly and excused himself, ordering Deen to stay put while he ¡®ran an errand.¡¯ As the general vanished into the next hallway, the door to the mayor¡¯s office opened to reveal the most extravagant room in Ulciscor, finely furnished and decorated with brilliantly patterned Shinkaian rugs, works of art across the walls, and chest-height marble pillars along the gold-inlaid walls bearing vases and glass designs. Mayor Maro Ren paused in the doorway, flanked by a guard on either side, both in fine silken uniforms colored silver on black. He was an incredibly short man, wearing an expensive-looking suit and striped tie, the former straining against his girth. He was clean-shaven and balding, what remained atop his shined to polishing head was blond and neat. He spared a glance for Deen through rimless oval spectacles. ¡°Need something, soldier?¡± ¡°No, sir,¡± Deen said. ¡°I was ordered to wait here by the general.¡± ¡°I see,¡± Ren said, smiling jovially. ¡°Carry on, soldier.¡± The mayor was known for his easygoing personality, but Deen couldn¡¯t help feeling tense around the man. After all, Maro Ren was, politically speaking, the second-most important man in the country, behind Ranboc himself. The mayor left with his guards in tow without another comment, and was soon replaced by the returning General Wolf. ¡°Let¡¯s be off, Captain.¡± ¡°Yes, general.¡± ¡ª¡ª¡ª Mammon Rigel, the Emperor¡¯s Silhouette, Sixth Elite of the Terra Daeva Empire, lounged easily inside the Ulciscor Council Building. He was not worried about¡­ well, himself, though he had to appear so¡ª desperately so¡ª outwardly. Inwardly, he was gleeful. Years of preparation and planning were at long last coming to fruition. He could hardly wait to see the look on that fool¡¯s face when he revealed himself. The radio transceiver buzzed, and he spoke. ¡°Sirius.¡± ¡°Yeah!¡± The noise distortion from the loud greeting hurt Mammon¡¯s ears, and he pulled the transceiver away, disgusted. ¡°I¡¯m here, man. What¡¯s up?¡± Even through the radio, the Sirius boy¡¯s tone of informality was stark and appalling. Perhaps as a boon for the glorious deeds to come, the emperor would allow Mammon to slit the boy¡¯s throat for his disrespect. ¡°You are receiving a gift tonight. An assortment of prey to hunt. Your men will, of course, know who is exempt¡­¡± The conversation continued, ironing out the final details to tie up this unforeseen thread of events. Idiot boy or not, he was a loyal servant of Terra Daeva, and he would see the job done. That didn¡¯t stop Mammon Rigel from fantasizing about that boon. Surely engineering the toppling of a nation was worth a loyal servant or two. 13 - Into the Den liked them. Who could? excessively inconspicuous. Luke could see that the general stood stooped, his face bent down to shadow it from prying eyes. Flocks, the man was tall. Stooped, and he still had to look down at Major Linden! ¡°¡­you of all people have to go,¡± Linden was saying. ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° filleted him, he had practiced knife grips with her. Generally, two things affected the grip you used, the shape of the knife itself and the situation it was being used in. And there were many, many grips, but mostly variations of the same two types, forward and reverse. Reverse gripping was a defensive tactic for short range jabbing, whereas forward grips were used offensively, to deliver penetrative thrusts into the enemy. She said that the knife was a terrible weapon for defending yourself, though, so in her opinion the forward grip was the better of the two. ¡° ¡° ¡° Will it be a good thing? Luke wondered. Or a bad thing, if the old man was right all along again? No. I couldn¡¯t have stayed there. I couldn¡¯t have. ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡°have to learn what they are, how they are engineered. ¡° ¡° This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. Green. doing something? different. ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡ª¡ª¡ª ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° Good thing I noticed, he thought. The panic rising inside him did not touch his face. Alexis clicked her tongue softly. He had seconds to come up with something. How would a normal person react to this? More pressingly, how could someone stop it? ¡°entire thing?¡± Deen snapped. ¡°Are you insane, man? I¡¯ve got somewhere to be!¡± ¡° ¡° did seem convinced they were merchants. How to make him relent¡­? ¡° must be delivered. Try and stop me, guardsman. It will be both our heads. One way or another, it will be both our heads.¡± Don¡¯t underestimate the Ulciscor Guard, he thought proudly, letting out a long breath as he drove into Filose. We¡¯re as stubborn as they come. ¡ª¡ª¡ª ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° I wonder how he¡¯s doing. 14 - Caribou ¡° ¡° was listening. A thick polearm strapped to his back gave the man a rather intimidating visual appearance, contrasting his actual polite, even friendly, demeanor. ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡°for apologizin¡¯¡­ I¡¯m gonna scream at the top o¡¯ my lungs, lad.¡± ¡° ¡°deep, like rumbling earth. He shifted the oil lantern to his other hand and lowered the shield, dimming the light and plunging the surrounding area into darkness. He reached for the polearm strapped to his back as he stepped closer to the bushes. ¡°are dealin¡¯ with the vultures. What do you think?¡± ¡° ¡ª¡ª¡ª ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° Get it together, he told himself. Focus. A feeling washed over him, a greenness, and his mind sharpened, straightened like an arrow drawn back in a bow. ¡° If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° did mean that she had to get inside that compound, but¡­ Flocks. It wasn¡¯t every day you saw an intimidating display like that. Only sheer force of will kept Luke¡¯s jaw from dropping, but when he eyed Daniels, the captain was not so assiduous. He closed it quickly and hurried after her with Luke. ¡° ¡ª¡ª¡ª Is height even hereditary? Cyrus wondered. He had no idea. His education was probably limited compared to people from big cities. ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡ª¡ª¡ª ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡°¡ª ¡° At least it¡¯s going to be lighter now. ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° teach that to somebody. It was as if the man had been doused with cold water as a prank, and found it distinctly unfunny. Even after the soldiers had come and gone, Daniels maintained that air of deadly seriousness. You¡¯re the impressive one, Luke thought. I¡¯ll admit it. Just not out loud. 15 - Flock-galed Fool ¡° Run! running away? ¡ª¡ª¡ª ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° need to listen! First at the Wall, now this. People really didn¡¯t want to hear him out, lately! ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡ª¡ª¡ª I¡¯d have a better chance with a real weapon. He knew wishing wouldn¡¯t help. He needed to survive with what he had. immediately and escort him to safety. He prayed Luke would only be captured and spared by a merciful soldier, but knew, knew he was most likely leaving the boy to die. ¡ª¡ª¡ª ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° Green. something happened. Something surreal, sudden. There were glimmers of red lights at Dux¡¯s chest that were not there before. But these lights, they emitted no light, strange as that was. Instead, they moved, up the chest and across the shoulder. Around his arm the lights coiled as if they were serpents, splitting apart, combining, joining and parting like a river through rocks until they covered the hand, wrist, and half of the forearm like a glove. No, that wasn¡¯t quite right. Somehow, Luke could see that the red light was inside Dux, not outside. caught the blade. Luke met resistance so strong it was like it had been clutched in the jaws of a large predatory animal. Easily, far too easily, it was torn from his practiced grip and flipped aside. It clanged to the road a second later. ¡° The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. ¡ª¡ª¡ª ¡° ¡° Sorry about this, Deen thought. To the Bane Below with not having a spear. I¡¯m never going without one again. I¡¯ll sleep with one in my hands. Lyla can complain all she wants. really needed to catch his breath. His lungs still burned. He stopped and stared up at the moon. It was a beautiful white crescent, unobstructed by clouds, banishing the darkness around it. would sleep, when this night was over. He would survive. He had to, for her sake if not his own. She loved him, though he had no idea why. Lyla often likened him to a proud knight from stories. A capable man with unwavering confidence and an unmatched sense of justice. That doesn¡¯t sound like me at all, he¡¯d say to her. ¡ª¡ª¡ª ¡° hiss. That was entirely too close. Fauke loosed his own arrow. ¡° ¡°do you know she¡¯s a she?¡± Korsak asked. ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡ª¡ª¡ª and run. This was one of those times. Without a doubt. light. It had transfixed him. It was gone, vanished the moment the knife hit the ground. What was it? Some part of him wanted, no, demanded to see it again. To understand it. ¡° no way Luke imagined that! Where was it? ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡­ weak they were. He could feel the gravelly texture of the road pressing on his shoes, the wind slipping past his exposed ankles. He felt more attuned to his legs than he ever had before, though he knew that didn¡¯t make sense. Your legs were your legs. But they was something more. listening faster. He slid past a punch, then righted himself. Instinctively, the light sheathed his entire lower half for part of the motion, then returned to just his legs, only thin string-like lights leading up his body. Have to dodge it, Luke thought. No other way. Use blue. something had told him to try guarding against it head on instead. Where¡­ did that idea come from? Luke wondered. The blue. ¡°both flowed with lightless light, glittering trails of red. Hard. Breath was ripped from him in a harsh, forced gasp, and the sharp, violent pain of fractured bone felt like a stab to his insides. He was thrown backward, smashed into the pile of crates in the back of the bus. Some of them tumbled free, splintering open on the road and spilling their contents. badly. ¡° 16 - The Ulciscor Guard ¡°What do you people think you¡¯re doing, using kids?¡± the blond-haired man asked Deen. He kicked his fallen soldier¡¯s coat aside. He had no weapon. That man¡¯s proud, almost noble face twisted angrily, and he raised his voice. ¡°You¡¯re all as bad as¡ª¡± ¡°I killed your Cathartes hound,¡± Deen interrupted. No time for games. He leveled his spear and pointed it at the unarmed Daevan¡¯s heart. ¡°You¡¯re next.¡± Deen struck like a scribblesnake the instant the soldier moved his hands. Skillfully, the man snatched the weapon with practiced precision and speed like lightning. Then, something¡­ unexpected happened. Deen couldn¡¯t pull the spear free. It was as if it had become embedded in the earth itself, wrapped in that man¡¯s fingers. Try as he might, he couldn¡¯t yank it away from the soldier. What deceiving strength! His enemy took no pleasure in his predicament; the man held an impassive face even as he kicked him. Deen went flying, rolling several times across the road. He righted himself and evaded a punch that left an actual crater in the hard packed dirt road. Drawing knuckles smeared with dirt and blood, the soldier stood upright and stared Deen down with sapphire-blue eyes. It seemed a monster had been left in charge of defending the bus. Deen¡¯s spear was shattered, broken in two and lying at the foot of where they had been. He thanked whichever of the Flocks had given him the idea of carrying a spare spear as he reached behind his back and pulled it free of the makeshift belt. So, the guy was ridiculously strong, was he? Strange¡­ He eyed the soldier from head to toe. He was an ordinarily-built man, perhaps less muscular than Deen himself. What was going on? He leveled his second spear. No matter. He¡¯d just have to be more careful this time. He remembered a glimpse of the soldier¡¯s palm, already bloody, likely from Luke¡¯s knife. The important thing was that he bled. Deen stepped slowly, to the right, away from the hand that grabbed his spear. There was a good chance it was not only dominant, but far more practiced with this grabbing nonsense. Still, best not make assumptions yet. Never make assumptions against an opponent you don¡¯t understand. The Daevan soldier stepped right as well, matching his slow pace. They circled for a time like that, as if they were two predatory fish of similar size trying to determine if one was capable of eating the other. The Daevan struck first, lunging for Deen with such a forceful punch that it buffeted the night¡¯s calm wind. ¡ª¡ª¡ª For the first time in days, Typhos felt alive. His bloodsoaked tachi sprayed the air with red droplets as he completed the swing, bringing the blade back to a neutral position. He met the eyes of a horrified ginger-haired boy similar in age to his own. The boy fell backward with fright, shrieking. Startled birds leapt away from their treetop nests, cawing in confusion and alarm. They were afraid of the wrong thing. Right there, right then, Typhos was unsheathed. Not his blade, no. Himself. Right in that moment, he was his true self. He had been given permission to temporarily discard his grimy patched-together rags and wear the bodysuit openly. A skin-tight suit of advanced fibers that reflected his surroundings, granting him an almost illusory appearance, as if he were the terrain around him from the neck down. It wasn¡¯t necessary. He didn¡¯t need it. It was a prototype that barely worked and had no head covering yet. But it clarified exactly what he was. A tool, a weapon of the empire exercised to kill with supreme precision. Thudding to his right. Close! His eyes darted, catching the blur of steel. His tachi caught it almost simultaneously, grinding against the tip of what he identified a heartbeat later as a lengthy polearm, wielded in the thick tree trunk-esque arms of an absolutely gigantic man. The tachi would break if he continued that farce, so he danced out of the polearm¡¯s path and scraped his tachi aside. It was then that he finally got a good look at the face of his next victim. Obviously Pruinan. Angry, furious. Familiar. Korsak Vankka. Lieutenant of the Ulciscor Guard. A dangerous foe. Typhos enfolded his mind in vast emptiness, the solace of the moment. He entered a state without thought, without emotion, as if he were in a trance. He was not a person, a being of thought and feeling, of mistake and indecision. No. He was the greatest weapon in all of Cathartes. A weapon that pointed himself where his master commanded, and always struck true. He attacked. ¡ª¡ª¡ª Snapping to lucidity, the first thing that came to Luke was the immense pain where he had been struck. The metal roof of the bus stared back at him as he listened to the sounds of boots shuffling and men grunting just outside. Captain Daniels¡­ I have to¡­ Why couldn¡¯t he speak? His body begged to cough, and he complied to the reward of pain intensified by the action. It was a sickly sounding cough. He spat blood, its color lost in the darkness but its distinctive metallic taste fouling his tongue. ¡°The light¡­¡± Luke whispered. His voice was groggy, as if he were half-asleep. He sure felt it. ¡°The red light¡­ makes him stronger¡­¡± He doubted the captain had heard. Luke wedged one elbow underneath himself and heaved. He could barely move his neck, so he felt by his fingers along the splintered wood of the crates he had fallen on, until¡­ There. His hand curled around something cold and smooth-textured. He strained his eyes as far as they could go and met the terrible sight from his dreams. The thunderflute was heavy in his hand, though he did not know how much of that was his weakness and how much was its actual weight. He found its peculiar handle and gripped tightly, index finger through the opening he believed would fire the arrow. He knew this would make him like the blue-eyed man. Not Dux, rather, the blue-eyed man from his dreams. His nightmares. The one who took everything from him. He remembered vividly how it was done. He had seen it in a hundred nights, a thousand nights. Struggling to lift the clipped thing, anger welled in him. He would not miss this chance! All he had to do was raise this useless Flock-galed hand, point the evil thing toward Dux, and squeeze! Now! Luke screamed raggedly and forced a red power from somewhere beyond into his chest. It was more solid than Dux¡¯s frail lights, a stable curling line of light with smaller wriggling branches. It did not split apart and join together like an ensemble of pitiful creeks. Like all of his other colors had been, he realized, this was a vast surging river. Raging through his arm. Granting him the strength he needed! Both Daniels and Dux had stopped fighting, frozen as Luke raised the thunderflute and squeezed his finger down on the firing mechanism. He braced his ears for the thunderous boom, and his heart for the bloodshed it would bring. The flute made a clicking sound. Nothing happened. No¡­ The flute slipped from Luke¡¯s hand, and he slumped. ¡ª¡ª¡ª Cyrus watched, numb. The assassin jumped back as Korsak¡¯s polearm swept wide. He rode the sweep like a surfer on a wave, closing the gap between them with impossible speed. The longsword found its mark, leaving a surface gash on the lieutenant¡¯s arm and escaping before he could retaliate. Blood ran down Korsak¡¯s arm, meeting older trails as if they were tributaries of red. He had taken several cuts and scrapes already. He did not seem affected, fighting with ferocity. Slashes and stabs kept the assassin moving. He seemed determined to wear him down. I have to do something. There must be something. He kept thinking that, but he couldn¡¯t move. He just couldn¡¯t. His limbs felt cold and sluggish. That longsword was going to claim Korsak¡¯s head next, and then his own. It was coming. He had never seen something so terrifying, not even in the Razing. He had seen his share of corpses, some he knew well. He had mourned for them. The brutality he had just seen¡ª that was only a part of it. The stark youth of the assassin, that coldness in his eyes¡­ It was haunting. Korsak roared like a beast, putting his whole body behind his attacks. The assassin was two-thirds his size, but so much faster. Two extremes. If just one of those polearm strikes connected, the tide could completely reverse. The lieutenant could turn it around, couldn¡¯t he? Move. The assassin slithered through an opening again, scoring Korsak in the thigh. The Pruinan stomped his foot as if to deny the blow had been dealt. It was as if the man felt no pain. Only fury. Move! Cyrus rose on shaky legs. The best thing he could do was try to get away. Was that what he was supposed to do? He didn¡¯t care. He didn¡¯t. He had to get away. Right now. Steeling himself, Cyrus took the first step and cried out in pain as an arrow bit him in the leg. He collapsed in a heap, clutching his leg and writhing. As he fell, the assassin dove toward Cyrus suddenly, to deliver a sinuous slash. The sturdy wooden haft of Korsak¡¯s polearm snapped in two as he diverted the attack by shoving the blade away. Korsak tossed the short end piece of the haft aside and adjusted his hold, receiving a stab to the shoulder in the process. Even now, the Pruinan seemed mighty. Broad-shouldered with a wide stance, solid like a rock between Cyrus and the assassin. Blood was beginning to pool underneath him. A stone would shatter against his face, and lions would flee at his deep roar when he next struck. One thrust, two, three, five, seven! The assassin weaved through every line, every curve of steel with such grace it was as if he were dancing a dance that could only be called death. Cyrus kept his head low, out of ideas. That archer might be hurt, but she had no intention of letting him leave. Korsak had to win. A horrible realization dawned on him as another arrow hissed by. ¡°No!¡± he screamed raggedly. The arrow plunged into Korsak¡¯s side. He grunted, spinning his polearm. He must have slipped up, for the assassin carved away the fourth and fifth fingers of the hand in front. Dark liquid reflecting the light of the lantern ran down the weapon¡¯s tip. Slick with blood, the polearm slipped from his hand. The assassin¡¯s silvery longsword flashed in the lantern light. ¡ª¡ª¡ª Deen was the first to realize the thunderflute had not worked. It seemed to him that even the soldier had expected it to work¡ª expected to die¡ª in that moment. He struck, hoping. The soldier recovered less than a heartbeat slower, halfway through the thrust. He reached out and pushed the spear aside with an absurdly sturdy forearm. Boldly, he stepped well inside Deen¡¯s range and clenched a fist. He delivered a blow like a block of iron to the chest. Out of breath, Deen kneed the man in the gut and backed away. The soldier didn¡¯t appear hurt, but his expression was rather¡­ surprised. They stood apart, breathing hard. The bus was between them, Luke laying motionless inside atop broken and shattered crates, bits of wood and thunderflutes scattered all over the bus floor. ¡°You¡¯ve got to be kidding me,¡± the Daevan soldier muttered to himself. His mouth twisted with disappointment. ¡°Out already?¡± ¡°Out?¡± Deen asked. ¡°Of what?¡± The Daevan, in response, raised one arm above his head. And numerous soldiers dressed in cargo uniforms stepped into view from behind walls, inside the warehouse, and other obstructions. Deen understood the situation immediately. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. It was over. It always had been. ¡°Sorry,¡± the man apologized, smiling wryly. ¡°I¡¯d like to finish things with you, but my sister will kill me if I die. You¡¯re very skilled with those pointy sticks. I¡¯m confident I would lose.¡± ¡°Flocks¡­¡± Deen muttered, looking about. There were a dozen or so people in the street now, all geared with spears or shortswords. They approached from behind the Daevan he had been fighting¡ª who was likely some sort of military officer¡ª and formed a semicircle formation, the flanks enclosing around Deen. ¡°Do not die for your cause,¡± the officer said softly. His tone had become less coarse, more respectful. Dignified. ¡°It is another form of honor to accept change. My name is Dux. Come. I will see your wounds treated before the night leaves us.¡± The words stung, but Deen didn¡¯t dare retort or retaliate. It would be worse than meaningless, it would get both himself and Luke killed. A pointless death was the last thing he could afford right now. He slung his spear behind his back. ¡°I¡¯d prefer you leave it for now, please,¡± Dux said. He maintained a neutral expression, but his eyes burned as he undid the knot he had tied at the waist and loosened the belt. It fluttered to the road as the spear clattered behind him. ¡°Lord Duxille,¡± one of the men said, approaching. He held out a curious cylindrical glass vial containing a very curious liquid emitting a soft red glow, like a tiny handheld lightbulb. The light was very weak, but it did color the underling¡¯s palm and the surrounding air an inch out. ¡°A fresh ampule, sir.¡± ¡°Thank you,¡± Duxille said, carefully plucking the vial out of the man¡¯s palm. Duxille. Where had he heard that name before? The ampule of red liquid must have been as curious to Duxille as it was to Deen, for he raised it to his face and shook it gently. There must have been¡­ some kind of air bubble inside, otherwise the liquid didn¡¯t adhere to gravity with those colorless pockets around it. The liquid shifted unconcernedly inside its container, as if it had not been shaken n the first place. Duxille pressed his thumb to the ampule, and a silvery needle emerged from the tip. He set it against his arm and injected the substance. The liquid vanished, and¡­ nothing. That was it. It wasn¡¯t as if the man himself glowed now or anything. Strange. ¡°Forgive me,¡± Duxille said. ¡°It¡¯s an¡­ affliction. Do you mind if we talk a bit of shop? Hm?¡± Deen swallowed nervously. What to do now? Was General Wolf captured as well? Mirastelle was lost, in that case. He honestly believed that. Would this ¡®Lord Duxille¡¯ buy that he and Luke came alone? Realization hit him like that punch from earlier. ¡°Are you Duxille Sirius?¡± Deen asked. ¡°Brother of the Seventh Elite?¡± ¡°She hates when people call her that,¡± Duxille said. ¡°Cifelle is the second Fifth Elite. If you count them like that¡­¡± He scratched his head. ¡°Well, frankly, it¡¯s going to get pretty ridiculous in a few decades.¡± Deen grinded his teeth at the idea of Terra Daeva lasting a few decades. It wasn¡¯t even one decade old. ¡°Anyway.¡± Duxille waved an arm at a few of the soldiers. ¡°These fellows will keep you company for a while,¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯re off the hook for now. Busy times. Understand? I¡¯m sorry about this.¡± Deen¡¯s head sank. Thoughts were coming so slowly. The reality of his predicament had begun to set in. He had promised Lyla he would return. How long would it take, in this situation? Would he ever? The soldiers were coming toward him now. Perhaps he ought to bend down, grab the spear and¡­ ¡°You cannot have him.¡± That smooth voice rang loud and true. Duxille balked. The soldiers went eerily still. As Deen turned, all thought failed him, and words froze on his tongue. He had come. The one who would save him, save them all. ¡°Captain Daniels is one of the finest men I have ever known. A priceless treasure that cannot be shared with others. Save for his loved ones, of course. I claimed him long ago.¡± General Vander Wolf looked as though he were a painting of himself come to life. Balding with a thick trimmed beard around his chin, he bore a gaunt face with sunken eyes and a moody expression that betrayed his charismatic voice. He was tall and sharply dressed, a bony man wrapped in an immaculate spiralsilk uniform of silver on black with a minimalist stitching of the Buteo Flock on the left breast. A glossy black sheath reflecting the moonlight hung from his belt, daring any who wish to strike at the man who successfully betrayed Emperor Munitio during the eleventh hour of the war and lived to tell the tale. Others walked with him. So many, nearly as many as were accompanying Duxille. Most of them were dressed as cargo workers. Had they changed sides, or were they the general¡¯s to begin with? Alexis and Aisha stood closest to him, the former Deen knew was surely the best bodyguard a man could ever ask for. ¡°He is mine, and therefore you cannot have him, Sirius boy.¡± ¡°Protect Lord Duxille!¡± one of the soldiers called. The semicircle tightened around their so-called lord. More quietly, he added, ¡°Fight to the last. Do not falter.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll be clipped,¡± Duxille said, acting oblivious to his subordinates scurrying around. He whistled. ¡°The famous Vander Wolf. Can¡¯t say I¡¯m surprised. You are the type to fight your own battles, I¡¯ve been told.¡± ¡°Always,¡± Vander Wolf said, smiling. ¡°He does know he looks creepy when he does that, right?¡± Duxille said quietly. Louder, he asked, ¡°What is it you want, General Wolf?¡± ¡°A cigar and a drink,¡± he said. He laughed mirthlessly. ¡°And no war.¡± Deen¡¯s breath caught. ¡°I can do two of those,¡± Duxille said. He shook his head sadly. ¡°I am sorry, general. Truly. Amon wants this war. My sister would say the same thing.¡± ¡°That¡¯s the thing with autocracies,¡± Wolf said wryly. ¡°What do you say we call a truce, just for tonight?¡± ¡°Just for tonight¡­¡± Duxille said. ¡°I can agree to that. I¡¯m sure we both have tricks up our sleeves. There is no sense in pointless bloodshed.¡± ¡°Indeed.¡± ¡°You cannot have the flutes. You realize this.¡± ¡°Of course. But you will turn over Captain Daniels.¡± ¡°Of course,¡± Duxille said. He waved his arm, and the soldiers backed away from Deen. He sighed in relief, and felt the knots in his stomach start to loosen. Duxille motioned to him, beckoning him over. ¡°And the boy, as well. I did not catch his name.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not really sure if he¡¯d like that¡­¡± Wolf said uncertainly. ¡°That boy is not one of ours. He is here through unusual circumstances.¡± ¡°Huh? I see¡­¡± Deen trudged over to the bus and cradled Luke in his arms. He thought the boy was asleep, but he was forced to endure a flat, annoyed stare as he raised him up. Flocks, he looked as exhausted as Deen felt. Multiple sets of eyes were on him, ensuring he did not steal any of the thunderflutes. They were odd-looking metal contraptions. And so tiny. These little things would replace the bow and arrow? He made his way over to Duxille unsteadily and bowed his head. The Elite¡¯s brother responded in kind, bowing his head in a sign of mutual respect. They were not friends, far from it. But they had reached an understanding. ¡°My name is Luke Nixus.¡± ¡°Ah,¡± Duxille said. ¡°Thank you. Luke. I see. You¡¯re pretty gutsy, kid. Sorry about the punch.¡± ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Luke said. ¡°Can I ask you a question, Dux?¡± ¡°Go ahead.¡± He laughed softly. ¡°You earned it, for being the only person around here who bothers to use my nickname.¡± ¡°Which Elites have blue eyes?¡± Deen looked down at him, and found himself staring at Luke¡¯s red eyes. He had noticed them a while ago, but opted not to comment. Wait. The question was about blue eyes? He was too confused and exhausted to even bother trying to figure out what this was all about. He just hoped it wouldn¡¯t get them attacked. ¡°Besides my sister, you mean?¡± Duxille asked. ¡°Let me think¡­ I know Gor doesn¡¯t, Altair doesn¡¯t. My sister¡¯s predecessor doesn¡¯t¡­ Hmm¡­ Vega does, I know that. I¡¯ve never seen Rigel¡¯s face, though. Yeah. Just Vega and my sister. Maybe Rigel. They don¡¯t mingle much, you see. And some of them have been living quite privately. So not even a guy like me knows them all. Why do you ask?¡± ¡°It¡­ was just a passing interest. Thank you,¡± Luke said and closed his eyes. It was subtle, but Deen could feel him shaking slightly. ¡°Er¡­¡± Dux scratched his head. ¡°Yes, of course. No problem.¡± He hesitated. ¡°Take care of yourself, Luke.¡± ¡°Take care.¡± Aisha and Alexis approached them midway. Deen handed Luke over to Aisha, and Alexis pulled his arm around her to support him. True to the word of their respective leaders, the fighting in Filose ended there. Deen and the newly-expanded group left for Ulciscor without pursuit inside several automobiles. How had Wolf done it? Tired to his bones, Deen passed out on the ride back. ¡ª¡ª¡ª Cyrus wept when Korsak died. The tears came unbidden as he watched. He did watch. He would not look away. Not from this. Never from this. He was in the presence of the greatest man Asundria would never know. What must have been a dozen arrows staked the Pruinan lieutenant all along his torso. When the polearm had slipped from his fingers, he had battled the assassin with his bare hands, wrestling with the longsword. He had lost both of those hands, discarded on the gory floor. In that condition, he had still battled the assassin. He fought to his very last breath, when he gasped and slipped on his own blood, crashing to the ground, passing on to the Flocks Above. Cyrus would have saluted the man if he still had the strength to move. He felt lightheaded. He had lost a lot of his own blood¡­ The young blond-haired assassin panted heavily, utterly exhausted. He buried his longsword in the dirt and leaned on it for support. He kept those eyes, the emperor¡¯s own blood-red eyes, trained on Cyrus. Like a switch, the child-faced killer changed. His face smoothed, breath quieted. It was as if the Pines themselves fell still. How he regretted ever calling Luke a boy with the emperor¡¯s eyes. The color was the same, but the depth was so very wrong for a face so young. Those eyes were so cold, distant. They measured his soul. The assassin lifted his blade and flicked it to the side, spraying droplets in an arc across dry grass glistening in the lantern light. ¡°Speak your last words,¡± the assassin said. He raised his blade in a sign of respect. ¡°For his valiance, I will hear them.¡± Tears still streamed down his face. He knew he was going to die. He had accepted that. But he wept. He wept not for himself, not even for Fauke or the people of Castitas he loved so dearly, but for the loss of this man, the man he did not know. The man named Korsak. It was a profound sadness. Maybe Cyrus was delirious. He could not bring himself to stop his tears. What kind of incredible person could Korsak have been in life had he not been here, in this place, on this night? ¡°His name was Korsak.¡± He felt empty as he said it. It was difficult to think. There was a fog clouding his head, and deep sadness. ¡°Korsak.¡± The assassin said nothing, watching him. ¡°You look so alike¡­¡± he said. He could barely see. The world blurred. But he remembered the faces, and it overwhelmed his thoughts. The words came slowly. ¡°Your face¡­ so similar¡­ maybe¡­ the same¡­¡± The assassin frowned slightly. ¡°Same eyes¡­ Same face¡­ as Luke¡­¡± The assassin¡¯s face twisted with horror. The world blackened and vanished. ¡ª¡ª¡ª Everything hurt. Luke awoke in darkness. He was barely aware of a faint magenta light flowing through his body. The light did not illuminate the automobile, but the bumping from below and the sounds of the engine and the rushing wind outside told him that that was where he was. He was parallel to the floor, sprawled out over two sets of knees. An older woman met his eyes. She wore her steel-gray hair in a bun, with thick wavy strands hanging down the sides to frame her mature face. She wore the uniform of a cargo worker, like the Daevan soldiers had. ¡°What, Yulania?¡± Wolf said, voice close. Next to the woman. The three of them were in the back seats. In front, someone was driving. Aisha, he thought. Captain Daniels was asleep slumped with his head against the window in the other front seat. ¡°I told you he was awake,¡± the woman said. She sounded like a stern grandmother lecturing a child, not at all someone speaking to another fully grown adult. ¡°I swear. I could teach you anything but proper manners.¡± Wolf chuckled quietly, and she glared daggers at him. His eyes went wide and he stopped chuckling. ¡°Luke,¡± he said, clearing his throat. ¡°We¡¯re almost back. We¡¯ll get your wounds treated immediately. We did what we could with first aid, but you¡¯ve broken some bones. You¡¯ll be out of commission for a few months.¡± ¡°A few months¡­¡± he rasped. Pain spiked in his chest when he talked. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, truly. I¡¯ll explain everything when I have time. The war is coming. Please forgive me.¡± His mind was hazy. War was coming to Asundria. And he would be bedridden. He found that frustrating. He had to prove himself, to join the Mirastelle army and earn their trust. The blue-eyed man, the one who said he had become an Elite, cackled at him in his dreams. He hated him. He hated that black-coated man with every fiber of his being. So he would do it. He would change everything. Arm unsteady, Luke reached into his cloak pocket. They gasped in unison as he pulled out the thunderflute he had stolen. It slipped out of his weakened grip and clattered to the floor. ¡ª¡ª¡ª Typhos shook the boy¡¯s shoulders, but still he did not stir. Too much blood lost. Bane-cursed child! ¡°How do you know that name!¡± he hissed. A bush rustled. He smoothed his face immediately. Niya Samatkaeb stepped into view. Her shirt was bloodied at the shoulder. Her hand clutched a bloodsoaked strip of cloth tied around the wound. ¡°My Ace,¡± she said, bowing her head quickly. ¡°If there is a fourth member of their group, they are even more skilled than you.¡± ¡°There was one more skilled than me,¡± Typhos said coldly, drawing a handkerchief from his pocket. He wiped the blood off his tachi and sheathed it. ¡°I ran him through with Hagetaka only because of your arrows. I am not invincible.¡± ¡°Of course, my Ace.¡± The Ahraran woman acknowledged that far too quickly. He would have to keep an eye on her. Perhaps that incident with her twin brother still weighed on her mind. His training demanded distrust of fellow members of Cathartes. He had been tested many times in the past with loyal-seeming fellows who made attempts on Levian Vega¡¯s life. Only after murdering them did he learn they were loyal. They were tasked to make those attacks, all so Typhos could prove his own loyalty by killing them. They had offered up their lives to further his development. That wasn¡¯t always the case, though. Mostly, those of Cathartes he killed were simple gutless traitors. ¡°Return, Niya. Send your replacement to your post and report back. Then you may seek aid for your wound.¡± ¡°Yes, my Ace,¡± she said, bowing deeply. She hesitated. ¡°What of this one? He yet lives.¡± He reached down and opened a wide pouch strapped around his thigh. It was filled with medical supplies. ¡°Do not concern yourself. I have plans for this one,¡± Typhos said. He added an edge to his voice. ¡°Return.¡± Niya left without another word, slinking into the shadows. Typhos unrolled a bandage as he appraised the ginger-haired boy. He had been distracted, but now he finally noticed. He had memorized this person recently. He was from the village they were occupying. The mayor¡¯s son. Cyrus Alder, he believed the name was. He glanced over at the head rolled onto its side. That must have been Captain Fauke of the Ulciscor Guard. Important assets lost for Mirastelle, then. There would be a response to this. There was bloodshed yet to come before Rigel¡¯s Highlight plan, just under three weeks away. He turned back to the Alder boy. His teachings and his thoughts were in dire conflict. What was he supposed to do in this situation? ¡°It¡¯s just like you to cause me problems at a time like this,¡± Typhos whispered. ¡°Luke.¡± 17 - Respite ¡° ¡° The here and now, Daniels, he told himself. ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡ª¡ª¡ª Figures, he thought. He had a feeling it wouldn¡¯t have worked. There was something¡­ missing. It was like¡­ like he had a sixth sense, but not at the moment, as if he had closed his eyes and could not see. ¡° The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡° ¡°and awake for it. ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° should be compared to where he actually was. ¡° ¡° ¡° week? Luke frowned. ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡°you apologizing to me?¡± ¡° ¡° ¡° righteous before. Other than the old man, perhaps. But if he were here, he¡¯d be laying into Luke so hard that he¡¯d have to stay the full six weeks just from the sheer force of geriatric complaining. ¡° light. ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡°I have to confront him. ¡°What have I missed, anyway? Did they attack?¡± ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡°can¡¯t fall, or Amon wins.¡± ¡° ¡° ¡°annoying how right the old man could be sometimes. ¡° ¡° had put a thunderflute in Vander Wolf¡¯s hands. Maybe he could phrase it in a way that didn¡¯t involve himself? He didn¡¯t want anyone to know he could use it too, at least not until he had a solid grasp of what it was. They wouldn¡¯t believe me, anyway. What am I going to tell them? That the Seventh Elite¡¯s brother can use magic to punch really hard or something? No. That sounds ridiculous. I won¡¯t say anything yet. Not until I can prove it. 18 - Whirlpool ¡ª¡ª¡ª He shivered. Weren¡¯t they supposed to cure people in here? wanted to. And no matter how enjoyable you found cloud-watching, it could only hold your attention for so long. Do you still aspire to be a hero, Luke Nixus? I am in possession of Cyrus Alder. Meet me in Cherima, alone, before the sun sets on the eighteenth. I will be clear. If you do not come, or if you bring this matter to the Ulciscor Guard¡¯s attention, you will never see the boy again. It is imperative that you listen to what I say. There are words that must be said to you in person. A simple indirect letter like this won¡¯t suffice. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. James. There was no signature, but the opening question was unmistakably that of his older brother. James was alive. James. He remembered little of his parents, but the times with his brother were vivid, always so vivid. Then I¡¯ll work your son twice as hard, the would-be Elite had said. I wonder if Dad is with him. He didn¡¯t remember much about the man. His parents had done their best, always. He could remember his father¡¯s levelheaded advice that sometimes went right over his head, could picture his mother¡¯s warm smiles, ever reassuring and encouraging. ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ten times the distance. could he do? Was there no way to get there in time? Neither train nor ship ran through central Asundria in a way that worked for him. Was he seriously going to lose his one chance at this? how to drive, and cross three hundred miles in three days. Also, he was pretty sure the nurse said something about Pruinan military patrols around the perimeter of the triangle. I can do it, he thought stubbornly. He sat up, and though his legs did protest, he was able to stand steadily. Before Snare, every day was like this. ¡° ¡° Magenta, that faraway voice said. You were protecting me all this time, he thought in wonder. Thank you. would see James again, no matter who or what tried to get in the way. With this light, he could do it. He could do anything. 19 - Crossroads out? And he wasn¡¯t just dealing with an angry shopkeep. He was up against a whole building full of people whose job it was to keep him safe. If he was caught here, the hospital staff would know he was trying to leave, and there would definitely be some disagreements about that. Worse, they¡¯d think he was crazy, which wasn¡¯t necessarily wrong¡­ but they certainly wouldn¡¯t let him go. very conscious about that gown¡ª out into a cleared space for the horse-driven carriages and automobiles of visitors. There were a few carriages remaining and a single automobile painted black with silver trim. On the hood was a silver wolf¡¯s head inside a tower, symbol of the Guard. ¡° ¡°entirely too close. ¡°I found something odd.¡± ¡°Stop panicking! ¡° every woman in the Guard like Aisha? Flocks Above! ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° Be serious already. I don¡¯t have time for this. ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡ª¡ª¡ª Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡°belong with any Daevans,¡± Luke said through gritted teeth. ¡°Don¡¯t talk like you know him.¡± ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° demotion. He would be court-martialed. ¡ª¡ª¡ª ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° James¡ª how I remember him¡ª was always a person with a strong sense of responsibility.¡± ¡° ¡° 20 - Little Verte The wind whipped at Typhos¡¯s patchwork cloak as he picked his way across the forest floor of the Great Asundrian Pines. The toe of his weathered boots neither crunched leaf nor snapped twig, always finding footing of solid earth each step. It was not a conscious effort nor was it necessary today, here in the endless forest beneath a cold sun that had passed its zenith hours ago. The only other person for miles was right beside him. And that one was making plenty of noise trudging along. Alder was broken, that much was plain. He would¡¯ve been content making friends with the peeling walls back in that ramshackle cabin had Typhos not insisted it was time to eat something other than lentils for a change. He was a miserable sight. Alder¡¯s clothes and skin were dirtied despite a few good washings, and his curled ginger hair was tangled and slicked with sweat and the elements. Typhos stopped to crouch, examining the fallen caribou. An arrow jutted from its neck. He pulled it free, wiping the arrowhead with a cloth and replacing it in the quiver hanging off his shoulder. The creature had thrashed only once before stilling. He gestured for Alder to sit. It would take some time to bleed the caribou. Ironic, to live the very cover story the Cathartes patrol had offered to Captain Fauke¡¯s reconnaissance party. Of course, this far north, there were caribou. That man¡­ he would have recieved no headstone, no rites, certainly no mourning. He had no name, and he was no one. That was the way of it. No sense sparing him a thought now. As he worked, his idle mind wandered. Niya Samatkaeb and her brother Zaba had been reassigned inside the city at Typhos¡¯s suggestion. He was frank with his master when he recounted the tale of his encounter with Lieutenant Vankka¡ª there was something to the Samatkaeb woman, something he couldn¡¯t place yet, but couldn¡¯t deal with until after his requested leave of absence. In the end, Master Vega said Rigel could make better use of them for the time being, and could double as a gesture of cooperation between the two Elites. He found it somewhat surprising how easily his master agreed to the leave of absence, barely prodding for a reason, only confused that Typhos actually had something he wanted to do his free time. As an Ace, Typhos did possess quite a bit of agency, but rarely did he exercise the fact. He managed to keep Alder¡¯s presence secret, sequestered until he¡¯d received permission to leave, with the stipulation that he must return by the morning of the twenty-first¡ª a day before the attack¡ª in perfect condition. He knew his master though, and the man would be burning with curiosity. If Niya had spoken privately of what she saw, she would not know more than a boy with Proximan or Altairan ginger hair. He had traveled north with no one the wiser as to his intentions. There was one thing, though. He felt the Shadow¡¯s presence again, the night they left Castitas. Not a moment since. Typhos surveyed the caribou. After spinning the creature around to a face its neck to a downward incline, gravity had done most of the job. The grassy undergrowth stank of death, painted crimson. He gutted the carcass with a hunting knife and a practiced hand, then stood. He wiped the blade with a fresh cloth and called Alder over. They each took hold of the creature, facing one another briefly. Alder could not bring himself to meet his eyes for long, either because of their coldness or color. Probably both. He¡¯d long since become accustomed to that reaction. He could elicit it from the hardest of adults, clueless but tough men¡ª all a far caw from a doe-eyed village boy who¡¯d seen his bleak work up close. Once they returned to the cabin, Typhos would prepare and cure the caribou for the last few days here and his trip back to Castitas. He did not expect to return with Alder, but there would be enough meat to account for that possibility. The remainder would serve as a gift for his fellow Cathartes, a small apology for burdening them with extra work. Very soon, that bloody work would be unceasing. Enough to make that incline running red seem a drop in an ocean. ¡°Before I brought you out here, I contacted my brother by letter to request his presence. His name is Luke.¡± Alder said nothing. ¡°I do not believe he will come,¡± Typhos continued. ¡°Luke is the type to run first and think later. So why has he not come? I will tell you. He is afraid. Not of my blade, but my words.¡± Alder said nothing. ¡°I did not wish to burden you with the possibility for long. Still, I believe it is one¡¯s right to know the circumstances of one¡¯s own death.¡± Alder said nothing. This time, he returned the silence with his own. Neither of them spoke another word on the way back. ¡ª¡ª¡ª Riding in the seat beside Daniels, Luke felt a bit better after the brief chat with the captain¡¯s wife. Part of his tension was the uncertainty surrounding James. Was he still the same overprotective boy from back then, or had the empire changed him? Broken him? After recalling how strong his brother always was, long as he¡¯d ever known him, those doubts has lessened. The moon hung brightly, occasionally popping out between clouds. He was thankful for the new jacket. The air had grown colder as winter approached. The streets of a city as large as Ulciscor never truly emptied, but there were hardly any pedestrians and carriages about this late. Daniels drove through the iron gate of the South Wall, passing and exchanging a few words with a half-plated lieutenant standing guard named Arston. The captain motioned him close and swore the man to secrecy, explaining that he would be back in a few days. ¡°The Walls do not spread secrets,¡± Arston quoted, fist to his chest. He bowed his head and smiled reassuringly. ¡°And the Fourth has your back. I¡¯m sure the Second don¡¯t remember every face that passes through their gate. We can forget a person or two as well, eh? Have a safe journey, captain.¡± Then they were off. The Walls remained visible between the tall trunks of the Pines as they joined up with the main southwestern road and took the northern route running along the western side of the city. Even the moon was asleep by the time Ulciscor vanished behind them and they entered the country of Mintaka proper. Luke closed his eyes and tried to tune out the sound of the engine roaring and the tires rolling along an old horse trail. When he opened them again, the sky had changed color. ¡°Are we in the triangle?¡± ¡°Not yet,¡± Daniels said. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. We¡¯re making good time. I¡¯m taking us through a place called Little Verte.¡± He let out a great yawn. ¡°I need a nap or I¡¯m going to crash us into one of these clipping trees.¡± A small part of Luke wanted to tell him to get over it and keep driving. He suppressed his impatience. Captain Daniels was putting a lot on the line for him already. No need to run the man ragged. ¡°Thanks,¡± Luke said, not for the first time. ¡°Save it. You made something a lot easier for me.¡± ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± ¡°Whether or not to accept my promotion.¡± He snorted. ¡°I¡¯ll be lucky if they don¡¯t court-martial me when we get back.¡± The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Luke froze. A promotion would mean¡­ ¡°General Wolf wants you to become a major?¡± He squeezed his eyes shut. Fine, then. ¡°Maybe you should head back after your nap. I¡¯ll find someone else to take me to Cherima.¡± ¡°I wasn¡¯t going to accept it anyway,¡± Daniels said. He gave Luke a wry smile. ¡°The job¡¯s not for me.¡± The conversation petered out as it was made clear the captain had no intention of saying any more on the subject. He reassured Luke that he¡¯d be fine after they returned and explained things to the general, and that was that. They arrived at Little Verte soon after, a settlement that couldn¡¯t quite be labeled as a village or a town. It was in good condition, considering how close they were to Altair. Its namesake came from the city of Verte a ways to the northeast, formerly the capital of Mintaka. Daniels parked the automobile on the outskirts and grabbed some coins from a small compartment, then stepped outside and swung a strapped spear over his shoulder. He led Luke into an old but well-kept inn with a nameplate out front designating it as The Swan¡¯s Grace. The captain struck up a chat with the innkeeper, a friendly fellow with a belly almost as round as his spectacles and a thick mustache. Rumor of war was already beginning to spread, as it was the innkeeper to mention it first. Daniels introduced himself as Luke¡¯s protective uncle taking him back to his parents in Verte in light of said rumors. ¡°Get yourself some breakfast,¡± Daniels said after he was handed a room key. He flicked a coin into the air with his thumb onto the innkeeper¡¯s entryway desk. ¡°You heard the room number? Good. I¡¯ll leave it open. Wake me up at noon if I¡¯m still asleep.¡± ¡°That all true, son?¡± the innkeeper asked as Luke approached, glancing back where Daniels had gone. He held in a smirk as he confirmed the story and asked for a simple breakfast, bacon and eggs. Suffocatingly honest people like the captain made for poor liars. Strolling in with a big spear on his back like that would make anyone suspicious. The food tasted divine compared to that hospital slop and a soldier¡¯s ration Daniels had offered during the ride. The coin was enough to refill his plate. After indulging in such a nice meal, he rose from a chair in the dining area and made his way back to the front. This was a good place. He¡¯d been to a lot of inns and travel stops journeying from Aetas Origo to Ulciscor, and this was one of the best without a doubt. The Swan¡¯s Grace in Little Verte. He¡¯d have to try remembering this one. Cyrus would like it here. He asked the innkeeper the time¡ª about an hour until noon¡ª and decided this would be a good opportunity. He made his way outside and took a cleared path off the main road that led into the forest until he found a secluded grove of pines where he wouldn¡¯t be disturbed. It was time to figure out just what he was. Luke took a deep breath. His ribs protested, lancing him with pain. He reached out with his mind, calling for Magenta. Light of that color coalesced in the center of his chest and moved instinctively to his wounds. The pain receded and he felt its peaceful touch. The pinkish light behaved strangely as before, casting no glow on the surroundings. It undulated gently around his ribs like the once-calm surface of a pool disturbed by a dipped toe to check its temperature. He caught a glimpse of an oddity inside a nearby puddle of collected rainwater. A pair of distinct yellow orbs rested just behind his eyes, connected to his chest by thin, almost imperceptible strands. He flexed his mind like a muscle, feeling out¡­ There. He willed the Yellow to move, watching through the puddle as the tiny orbs slid from his vision, until he saw what others would see¡ª nothing. It finally made sense. That was why it casted no glow. He felt the colors, the Yellow pulled toward his neck and the Magenta swirling softly around his wound, but he could no longer make anything out through his eyes. The color of sight, was it? Luke released his grip on the two strands of Yellow and felt them shoot back into position behind the eyes like a stretched rubberband released. The other colors hadn¡¯t ever reacted like that. Perhaps they had different behaviors from one another. Would it have hurt if he kept going? He blinked the color away and blinked again to call it back. That worked. On to the next one. He held out his forearm in a defensive posture and willed a new color forth. Liquid blue light sprang from his chest and coiled around that forearm easily, as if it were a living thing that knew exactly what he wanted. Like the others, he held an innate sense of its purpose, and knew it to be the color of protection. He stepped toward one of the pine trees. Next was¡ª A twinge in his ribs took him by surprise. The Magenta had left him for some reason. He called it back. Immediately, his Yellow-enhanced eyesight vanished. He distinctly felt the Blue in his arm and the Magenta around his wound, but he could no longer see anything out of the ordinary happening. I can only hold two colors at once? After some experimentation calling and dismissing colors¡ª trying different combinations, pulling out only a smidgen of power¡ª nothing worked. Each time, as soon as the third color was introduced, the oldest one vanished. He could get around that limitation by dismissing the newest color, then summoning the third color. No matter what he tried though, he couldn¡¯t manage to hold on to three at once. He scratched his cheek, and felt a bit of hair growing there. That¡¯s right, he lost the razor old man Snare gave him back in Castitas¡­ He loathed to admit it, but he wished the old man was here now. Snare would be able to make much better sense of these powers. Maybe he¡¯d even know what it was¡ª Luke couldn¡¯t remember a time when Snare wasn¡¯t able to answer one of his questions. For now, he would settle with Yellow and Magenta. He wanted to figure out if channeling the colors for an extended period of time would tire him out in some way. As the thought crossed his mind, he stretched and yawned. He had been at this for quite a while. It was probably time to head back and wake up Daniels. A flicker of something bright caught his eye, and he glanced up. A bird¡ª a bunting, he thought¡ª had nestled itself on a branch and was watching him, as if curious. The bunting held his gaze for a few seconds, then leapt away and flapped up, catching a breeze and gliding off. In that brief moment of takeoff, the bunting had cloaked itself in Green, the color of stability. Luke stared after the bird in disbelief until it vanished over the trees. ¡ª¡ª¡ª ¡°What is the meaning of this?¡± Seras demanded, pushing past a row of guards clustered in front of the South Wall. They wore pins on their uniforms marking them as the Southwest Wall. She didn¡¯t recognize any of them. One said something to her and another laid a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged them both off. This was to be the morning shift of her and her soldiers. Instead of a quiet handoff, there was a huge commotion, clerks and inspectors bustling about like bees. She stood dressed in silver and black, a spear at her back she was itching to pull on these overstepping fools. What wing-clipped nonsense was this? As she forced her way through another line, the stench of blood and death hit her nose immediately. She caught sight of a field medic speaking with Major Vasran. The medic was shaking her head. Vasran¡¯s face was grim. Standing beside them were Major Cade and Captain Velox. Cordoned off nearby, she saw, were seven bodies strewn about as if they were beset by enemies in every direction. One of them was a man with steel-gray hair and iron eyes, closed forever. Lieutenant Arston. Velox noticed her first and waved her over. ¡°Lieutenant Seras,¡± the captain said. ¡°This morning¡¯s a catastrophe, as you can see.¡± Velox saw the question in her eyes. ¡°Arston and the others were attacked in the night.¡± ¡°By who? Cathartes?¡± ¡°We¡¯re not so sure,¡± Cade said, stone-faced. ¡°The gate is wedged open. The mechanism has been sabotaged. Our best inspectors have taken a look at the scene and have determined that the attackers took some of them from behind. Moreover, we can¡¯t find Captain Daniels.¡± Seras looked to Vasran, the South Wall¡¯s own major. She had informed him yesterday privately of Daniels¡¯s intentions at his own instruction. The largely-built man had been furious with Daniels but understanding of Seras¡¯s own position in all this. That understanding had vanished from his expression, exchanged for a cold stare and a tight-lipped frown. ¡°I know what you told me before, lieutenant,¡± Vasran said. ¡°I believe you¡¯ve been played. We all have. I¡¯ve known the man for the better part of a decade. I can¡¯t think he¡¯d¡­¡± He shook his head. ¡°And yet, what other possibility is there? On the very night he forsakes the Guard for his personal business, this happens. What else is there to say?¡± Thoughts tumbled through her head. She knew Daniels was innocent. That meant the true culprits were off the hook unless she convinced the majors that they were making a mistake. She needed to¡­ Seras slowly turned to face those around her¡ª the majors, her captain, and several soldiers who had drawn close. Velox averted his eyes. Those who matched her gaze returned it with hostile looks. She was the captain¡¯s closest confidant in the Guard, and it was no secret. ¡°Please remove your spear and step this way,¡± Cade said quietly. 21 - One Last Little Bit of Fun Luke had not known they would be crossing into Terra Daeva until Daniels told him on the way there. They would be spending the night in Gilos, a town on the northeastern border of Ursa. Technically they had already crossed through the tip of the triangle for a short interval already, Daniels explained, but it was a formality of political maps to pretend the space of non-intervention reached as far as the Asundrian Cracks. In reality, it was more of a large bubble around the easiest entry points up into the Pruinan mountain range. The two walls of the triangle were loosely guarded by Mirastelle and Terra Daeva¡¯s own armies respectively. For two reasons, the captain thought the best way into the triangle was through the Daevan side. First, it was highly probable that many of the soldiers manning the wall had been called to duty, to join with the greater force to the south preparing to face Ulciscor. Fresh recruits or the otherwise unreliable would be left in place of the real soldiers who were stationed there. And second, he really didn¡¯t want to run into the Mirastelle army right now, given his current status as a deserter. That, and he knew for a fact that while Mirastelle¡¯s outposts did have some blind spots here and there, they do actually do their jobs sufficiently well in keeping intruders out. Stuck in this musty automobile day in and day out made him feel like he was losing track of time, but he was very certain how much longer they had until the letter¡¯s deadline. The setting sun ahead of them marked exactly two days remaining. According to Daniels, they would arrive in Cherima tomorrow afternoon. They¡¯d done nothing but drive since leaving Little Verte, besides a quick stop so the captain could replace the wolf¡¯s head ornament with a plain radiator cap. The Magenta coiling his ribs worked unceasingly to restore the damage he¡¯d taken as surely as a tailor threaded his works together. He could see it if he glanced down, a steady pinkish light that bore no glow and left Daniels no clues that anything was amiss right beside him. Could he trust the captain with his secret? Trust. Luke was always at cross-purposes with that, wasn¡¯t he? Before he could think further on the subject, the skyline of a large town rose on the evening horizon. The endless waves of pines upon pines thinned as they approached the Ursan settlement, twinkling with artificial lights visible even at a distance. As they neared he could make out horse-drawn carriages and automobiles along the paved streets, a mingling of the old and new worlds. Both kinds of transporation bore electrical lighting at the front to banish the creeping shadows of the coming night. The carriages outnumbered the automobiles, but everyone back in Aetas Origo said that would change in his lifetime. The buildings they passed were of the new style, rectangular and tightly packed against one another. There were no signs of old war wounds¡ª Gilos was untouched, flourishing even, by the looks of all the people milling about, chatting and laughing. Luke did a double take. Most of those people were soldiers. In the dim streetlights, he could pick out their uniforms, light brown save for yellow at the throat and the white Daevan circle of unity at their backs highlighting a minimalist shield design. Asmari Capella¡¯s men. ¡°It¡¯s not a secret anymore,¡± Daniels said, glancing at Luke as he waited for an automobile to pass. ¡°The Shield must have sent soldiers to gather supplies from this town. I imagine the rest of them, like those fellows, have been given leave to have one last little bit of fun before things get serious.¡± Daniels was right, now that he looked again. Five soldiers sauntered along in a disorganized group down the sidewalk, their hair disheveled and white buttons undone. One had a drunken stumble to his gait and leaned on another, laughing about something. He saw the same sort of story repeat with other pockets of soldiers they drove past. After picking a tavern out at random and discussing a simple social strategy¡ª if pressed, they were uncle and nephew, but otherwise offer the locals as little information as possible¡ª Daniels parked the automobile. They headed in after Luke convinced him a man strolling around with a huge spear on his back was anything but inconspicious. The tavern was spacious inside and smelled of smoked mutton and mead atop polished granite tables and smooth wooden benches, almost all occupied by people drinking and chatting in a low din. Two carefully spaced chandeliers offered electric lighting to the entryway and dining area, assisted by wall-mounted bulbs with shades. Few eyes passed over the pair as they entered, and those that did quickly returned to their meals and conversations. Only one kept her eyes on them as she approached, a short, stout brunette woman that asked if they were here to eat or sleep. ¡°Both, preferably. Still have rooms?¡± Daniels made a point of surveying the room. ¡°Looks packed in here.¡± ¡°You¡¯re in luck,¡± she said. ¡°Last one¡¯s yours.¡± As Daniels and the innkeeper¡¯s conversation drifted to payment and what they¡¯d be eating for dinner, Luke took the opportunity to pace around, listening idly to the conversations nearby. ¡°You had the nine of spades?¡± an exasperated man said, laying the cards in his hands on the table. The woman across from him was looking quite smug, and the other two at the table seemed to share the man¡¯s dismay. ¡°The kids won¡¯t be happy,¡± a blonde woman with a thin golden necklace at another table close by was saying to the man across from her. ¡°What do you owe them anyway? They have plenty of hands as it is.¡± ¡°I signed up to be a soldier,¡± the spectacled man said. ¡°I can¡¯t back out like that. I didn¡¯t know this was going to happen. I¡¯m sorry, I know this is going to be hard on all of you.¡± ¡°You¡¯re full of it,¡± a grizzled man said at yet another table, laughing raucously. ¡°Not a chance. Not a chance.¡± ¡°He was! No, you listen to me!¡± the man beside him protested. ¡°Listen. He was walking down these very streets yesterday morning with this guy that looked like a fancy butler. No, I¡¯m serious! Had the flockin¡¯ diamond-backed coat and everything!¡± ¡°Listen to this guy!¡± a third man laughed, clapping the protesting man on the back. ¡°We get it, you went to acting school.¡± That one got the grizzled man laughing even harder. He heard more, but focused his ears on the couple and their quiet argument. She sounded devastated. It hadn¡¯t occurred to Luke until that moment that there could be Daevans who didn¡¯t want this war. They weren¡¯t all just blindly following whatever the emperor told them to do. Depressing as it was to hear, it was refreshing too in a way. At least it was until a woman in a dark traveling cloak sauntered up to the woman and asked her if Pica had flown off with her mind. ¡°private conversation. Can I help you?¡± ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° knew about them, sure, but did he think there were mythical armadas of birds flying around up there? He¡¯d watched the clouds all his life and not seen so much as a single feather. What would they even be doing, he¡¯d often wonder watching those clouds float past. Blessing people who favor them with house decorations and trinkets? Cursing those who use their names in vain? Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. The woman whose face he could now clearly make out was that of dark hair framing a caramel-skinned beauty with deep green eyes now staring right at him. Her left eye was underlined by a mark designating her Ahraran clan, a pattern not quite as intricate as Aisha¡¯s. Right then, Luke was pretty sure of three things. That he¡¯d only ever met two Ahraran women in his life. That the number was still two. And that he was definitely cursed. ¡°Zaba!¡± the Ahraran shrieked, reaching for a belt dagger hidden beneath her cloak. She raised it high and took three steps by the time Luke pulled a ribbon of Green from somewhere beyond sight. It shot down his chest into his legs. Her expression shifted from grim purpose to surprise as he sidestepped her and she went off-balance. He felt ribbons of Green slither like scribblesnakes up his neck as he swiveled his head. Daniels was engaged with a man in a cloak. Luke caught sight of a tattoo underlining that man¡¯s left eye as well. Both of the assassins from before. But how? A primal sense of panic gripped him. Some of the tables had noticed what was going on with a mixture of reactions, mostly stunned or horrified. The spectacled man was up, shouting something that didn¡¯t quite register with Luke in the moment. ¡°I am Niya of Cathartes,¡± the Ahraran woman announced. More than a few at the tables paled at that. She flipped her dagger impatiently and stared hard at the spectacled man until he sat back down with a shamed expression. She lowered her hood. Her hair was disheveled and looked like a very dark orange in the light. ¡°Young though he looks, he is an agent of Mirastelle. Anyone who interferes with myself or Zaba dies. No second warnings.¡± The other assassin, a male Ahraran that looked and dressed as though he could be Niya¡¯s twin, grunted from an elbow to the stomach delivered by Captain Daniels. A failed surprise attack, Luke guessed. And I¡¯m not the same person you chased through the forest last time, he thought, pulling an aqueous red light into his chest. He felt liquid crimson crackling along his arm like lightning. He silently thanked Aisha for the scare she gave him, without that experience he might still be frozen with fear. Adrenaline had begun to replace his panic. His ribs began to hurt¡ª he had dropped the Yellow and Magenta to maintain the Green and Red. He hoped the adrenaline would carry him. It worked as perfectly as if he were cheating at a game for children. Luke sidestepped her thrust again and came in close, uppercutting her. This Red-enhanced punch sent her flying into one of the closest tables, the ones who¡¯d been playing cards until a moment ago. Plates and cups of glass shattered at the table broke in two and toppled over. Luke bolted for the exit as Daniels shoved the assassin Zaba aside, a bewildered look on both the captain¡¯s and assassin¡¯s faces. The innkeeper flung herself out of their way, terrified. He spared one last glance behind them while Daniels threw open the door. Niya was climbing to her feet. Her face was thunderous, contorted in anger and pain. They dashed out into open air¡ª cool on the skin¡ª and headed for the automobile. The sun had nearly finished setting, only a sliver of color hanging on like fingers to a cliff¡¯s edge. The captain scrambled over to the driver¡¯s door, flinging it open in a hurry. He jammed the key in to start the engine. ¡°Get it moving. I¡¯ll follow you,¡± Luke said as he caught the eye of Zaba stalking outside. He knew Daniels wanted to call him a reckless idiot, but they both knew there was no time for an argument. Daniels got to work while Luke locked eyes with the assassin. A deep green color, just like his companion. Perhaps they really were related. It made him think of his Green, a raging torrent inside his legs. His ribs were really starting to hurt, but he couldn¡¯t summon the Magenta back. Maybe if he practiced some more he¡¯d be able to switch more efficiently, but calling the colors purposefully took a measure of concentration and effort he just wasn¡¯t used to. He needed Red or Blue on demand. Anything else was a distraction right now. He half-expected to be staring down the barrel of a thunderflute. Instead, Zaba drew a shortsword from his belt and leveled it at Luke. There had been so many crates at Filose. Were there not enough for the assassins? Or was there some other reason? Living on the streets and stealing to survive made Luke no stranger to someone angrily coming at him with a knife. It was one of the most terrifying things that could possibly happen to a person, he thought. So Luke had naturally picked up a useful strategy for this kind of thing. Run like the Bane¡¯s behind you. Luke spun on his heel and tore his way down the street on Green-fueled legs away from the captain¡¯s automobile, glancing back to make sure he was still being pursued. He was. Good. Now to lose him and circle back around for that bread. ¡ª¡ª¡ª Deen Daniels gritted his teeth and turned the key. The engine started running . He pressed his foot to the pedal just as she outstretched her hand to grab the passenger door handle. He could hear her curse as the automobile jerked away into the street proper. Deen pulled forward for a few seconds to dissuade her chase, then stopped to lean down and grab a spear out of a cylindrical bag packed full of them like a bunch of golf clubs. He affixed one to his back in a hurry, tugging on the strap to check if it was secure. In the rearview mirror, he caught sight of the assassin ducking into a nondescript beige automobile just across the street. Oh. Oh, that¡¯s not good. The automobile protested as he slammed the pedal, making all sorts of noises but eventually giving way to a dangerous speed for a populated area like this. One drunken pedestrian crossing the road without paying attention is all it would take for something that couldn¡¯t be undone. He swallowed hard. The screech of the tires had drawn onlookers, people nearby cursing from startlement. One woman was already trying to flag down someone from the town¡¯s watch, a very confused man who took one look at Deen speeding past and wrung his hands. They¡¯d be long gone by the time the local constables got their act together. No, the immediate threat was¡­ That beige automobile crawled onto the road, then began to accelerate after him. He watched it all with such intensity¡ª the road, the people, the mirror¡ª that he almost slipped up right then and there. With a curse, he hit the brakes and went skidding to the right. He needed to go around the block and grab Luke so he could get them out of this clipping town. He had around fifteen seconds on her, he guessed. That was how long it took the assassin to turn the same corner. Maybe he was counting fast, though. His heart sure was pounding fast. He rounded the next corner. Still no sign of Luke. The turn put him back on the long part of the rectangular town block, so he pushed harder on the gas pedal. The engine growled in response, propelling forward, like a wild cat after its mark. There! Racing out from behind a building on the edge of the street was Luke. Something about the way he moved had an unnatural grace to it, as if he were carefully taking each step while at a dead run. And that punch earlier was just like¡­ Stay focused, Deen told himself. Worry about it later. The gap between them narrowed in an instant. Their eyes met as Deen weaved diagonally between two parked automobiles, slamming the brakes. He reached over and threw the passenger door open. Luke reacted like lightning, spinning as he passed the hood. He leapt into the automobile, shaking it as he landed inside. Deen didn¡¯t bother waiting for him to shut the door and floored it. Metal scraped against the automobile parked ahead and nearly the automobile ahead of that as well until Luke righted himself and pulled the door shut. Deen glanced at Zaba through the mirror as they continued straight onto another block. The assassin was catching his breath on the corner. He looked expectantly at the beige automobile racing up the street, but Niya passed him by without a thought. Flocks. Flocks, Flocks, Flocks! She was almost on top of them now! ¡°Why are they so clipping determined to kill us?¡± Deen cursed. He swerved around a horse-drawn carriage in front, shouts and rude gestures from the man holding the reins lost on the wind. A heartbeat later, he watched Niya do the same. She was a skilled driver. Luke bent down suddenly, saying something. ¡°What?¡± ¡°I¡¯m going to try something,¡± he repeated. ¡°One of these through her windshield.¡± He came up with one of Deen¡¯s spears. ¡°Be my guest,¡± Deen said. ¡°Careful leaning out. I¡¯ll tell you when a turn¡¯s coming up.¡± Luke speared the road twice. The attempts weren¡¯t close. His form for a javelin toss was good enough for someone hanging halfway out of an automobile window, but even if he could do the surreal things Deen suspected he could, the wind resistance was still too much. ¡°I can¡¯t land the hit,¡± Luke said, sounding frustrated. ¡°Even if I use all of these¡ª¡± ¡°When I say,¡± he said suddenly, ¡°Act like you¡¯re trying again.¡± There was no time to explain. No time to think. He saw the answer. ¡°Now!¡± Luke ducked out a third time, and he knew Niya would divert her attention to him. Anyone would keep an eye on the guy who decked you across a table. Maybe this spear would hit its mark. She¡¯d be watching. Watching. And not seeing. Deen braced himself and threw his automobile onto the other side of the road. They were now traveling the wrong way. And dead ahead, an oncoming automobile with the markings of the local constables mirrored the swerve in a panic. It wasn¡¯t the worst crash he¡¯d ever seen, thank the Twelve. But it did the job. Metal bashed off metal, and in the mirror he could see both automobiles come to a halt. He navigated to the north end of town and kept going. The pounding in his heart didn¡¯t die down until they were once again surrounded in all directions by pine trees and oppressive darkness. 22 - To Embrace the River ¡°I¡¯m awake,¡± Luke said, feeling the sunlight warm his face. ¡°Then, as we agreed, let¡¯s have that talk,¡± Daniels said. The captain rode beside him through the seemingly infinite pine forest with dark circles under his eyes and his hands on the wheel. He pulled over off the dirt path, as far out of sight as he could manage, and together they stepped outside. Daniels hobbled over to a large pine, spear strapped to his back, and settled down against it. He exhaled softly and peered toward Luke expectantly. No sense making him wait. He saved you, Luke thought. Twice. The man¡¯s earned some trust. Luke sat cross-legged in front of Captain Daniels and met his tired eyes. He glanced away and swallowed nervously. How should he start? ¡°I¡­ can do things that other people can¡¯t.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Daniels said. He grinned. ¡°You¡¯re the only kid I know that can win over my wife and Seras that fast.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not a¡­¡± He trailed off and looked straight at the captain. ¡°No, you¡¯re right. I¡¯m fifteen.¡± ¡°I can tell.¡± ¡°My birthday¡¯s on the twenty-second.¡± ¡°And your plan was to share that after the fact?¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± He frowned when Daniels laughed. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Wolf would have forced you into our educational system,¡± he said. ¡°We¡¯re not a factory that churns out reckless kids eager to get themselves killed or worse.¡± Luke lowered his head. ¡°The ¡®blue eyes¡¯ you asked about in Filose,¡± Daniels said. ¡°It¡¯s about that, isn¡¯t it?¡± ¡°I was born in Lumina. I lived there, until¡­ until that man killed my entire family,¡± he whispered. ¡°Or worse.¡± ¡°The Purge.¡± Daniels nodded. ¡°That¡¯s why you want to see your brother so badly. I¡¯ve heard stories of able-bodied men ripped right out of their homes and pressed into Daevan service.¡± Luke looked up at him. The captain looked so tired and worn, a scraggly beard marring his usual clean shaven face. He had driven all through the night to get them away from the assassins. ¡°I can use colors.¡± ¡°I take it you don¡¯t mean crayons.¡± ¡°No, I¡­ I don¡¯t know where they come from, but I can use them. They change me. Make me stronger.¡± ¡°You¡¯re like Duxille Sirius,¡± Daniels said. ¡°You can see the colors?¡± He drew Red from a distant somewhere into his chest, then to his hand and waved it around. ¡°If you¡¯re doing something, I can¡¯t tell. Let me put it this way. I don¡¯t see people getting thrown¡­ well, ever. So I put two and two together. You don¡¯t use ampules, then?¡± ¡°Ampules?¡± ¡°Before Wolf showed up, I watched Sirius stick something into his arm. Some kind of¡­¡± He shrugged. ¡°Weird red stuff.¡± That was interesting. And confusing. Just what was all this? ¡°No,¡± Luke said. ¡°I don¡¯t have anything like that. Come to think of it¡­ he only used Red.¡± ¡°There are other colors?¡± Daniels asked. ¡°Five. I don¡¯t know where mine come from.¡± He made a grabbing motion. ¡°Sometimes I can reach out and get it. Sometimes I can¡¯t. Like it¡¯s limited in some way. You don¡¯t know anything?¡± ¡°Not a clue.¡± Daniels folded his arms in thought. ¡°How long have you been able to do this?¡± ¡°A long time, I think,¡± Luke said. ¡°I wasn¡¯t sure until I woke up after Filose.¡± He laid a hand on his chest. ¡°I¡¯ve always gotten over colds and sprains really fast. That night with Dux made me realize something was different about me. I can see something other people can¡¯t.¡± ¡°It sounds like these colors flock to you by instinct. They helped you even when you had no clue about them?¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°And what about now?¡± ¡°I¡¯m trying to control it. I have no idea what I¡¯m doing.¡± ¡°That makes two of us,¡± Daniels said with a grin. He shared the rest of what he knew¡ª each color¡¯s function, the two colors rule, and so on. As they talked through it all, Luke felt a weight lift from his shoulders. It was good to confide in someone, wasn¡¯t it? ¡°How¡¯d you like to learn the spear, Luke?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve seen you fight.¡± He nodded. ¡°My grandfather told me never to turn down a lesson from a learned man willing to teach his craft.¡± ¡°Your grandfather sounds like a wise man.¡± ¡°He is.¡± And yet, Luke spent his last weeks in Aetas Origo arguing with the man. Snare hadn¡¯t approved of the revenge aspect, but he did agree Luke needed to get out of the city and see the world for a change. In the end, Snare begrudgingly went along with it and set Luke up with the mayor of Castitas and a guide to take him through Mirastelle. He guessed that guide would have tried to keep him from enlisting. Who knows. This whole trip would probably get him in as much trouble with the Guard as the captain. At least Snare would find the cause agreeable. He¡¯d be all for saving a friend. Maybe not so recklessly. Daniels rose. ¡°Let me show you some of the basic forms.¡± It was late morning when the captain¡¯s incessant yawns forced him to retire. He instructed Luke to wake him up by midday so they could gain more distance between themselves and the assassins. Neither believed the chase was over, but in this part of the Pines there were plenty of clearings and the like. Plenty of places to seclude yourself in. It would slow their pursuit as Cathartes combed each possibility. Hopefully. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Luke stood a ways away, a silvery spear held using both hands, practicing grips with either hand leading the haft. Spearfighting was an ambidextrous art, the captain said. Matching the angle of your weapon with the opponent¡¯s was key to abusing the long range. He cycled through four simple motions. Guarding, striking, sweeping, and thrusting. He was slow and deliberate for fear of hitting himself in the knees as he¡¯d done a number of times earlier in the morning. Speed would come with practice and time, Daniels told him. As is, he wouldn¡¯t be able to use this in combat. The spear would be swiped out of his hands in the first exchange of blows. Or worse. Once his ribs began to ache, he set himself down against a pine and breathed in the fresh forest air, feeling sweat stick his shirt and skin together. He shivered despite the workout¡ª he¡¯d left his jacket in the automobile and was starting to regret it. It was chilly every day now. There were no more landmarks between them and Cherima. The road they were following led all the way to the Pruinan mountains. Not much further ahead, an old abandoned side road would take them to the equally abandoned town. The colors came to him easily now, like a whistle to a trained messenger dove. Threads of Magenta spun around his ribs thanks to a little direction and two Yellow orbs settled inside his eyes like heavy stones that took great effort to budge. Through his eyes, he saw the Green flickers of birds taking off and landing, chirping their usual morning greetings to one another. They would be leaving soon for the winter in wide formations. He wondered how majestic a sight that would be now, a large flock of migratory birds peppered with Green glitter. He was violently snapped out of his reverie by the sound of an approaching automobile. No question who that was. Clip me, they¡¯re fast. He laid the spear flat beside the tree in such a way that the trunk obscured it from the road. It would have to do. He just hoped the glint from the sun off the metal wouldn¡¯t betray him. Daniels! He scurried to the next pine and pressed flat against it. Peering around the side, he could see the automobile and its hiding place just beyond the road¡¯s edge past a few rows of trees. And he saw that it was large and obvious to a close inspection in broad daylight. The windows were too opaque from this distance to tell if the captain was stirring. Green flooded his chest and splintered everywhere. What¡ª Behind you! The thought was frantic. The woman! He turned, barely catching a glimmer of steel. He jerked away as a blade sheared the air where his neck was. He felt Niya¡¯s breath on his face and saw the wicked look in her eyes and the dagger raised high. She cycled from surprise to fear to concentration in a heartbeat, stepping back as he swung and missed with a Red-enhanced fist. He wouldn¡¯t have dared move against that dagger had it not been for the Green¡¯s grace to his movements, yet still she anticipated him. She was wary now, eyeing him like a wild cat eyed a desperate mouse with nowhere to go and nothing left to lose. Seconds passed as she made her advance, slashing and swiping but meeting the wind each time. The world around them suddenly seemed so inconsequential. He had to break through and get to Daniels. Holding back his fear with the unseen beauty coursing through him, Luke kicked. He was certain he¡¯d wreathed his entire leg in Red, but she barely staggered as the kick connected with her shin bone. A thought crossed his mind and he blinked Yellow to be sure, dismissing Red but holding tightly to Green. No colors on her as she righted herself and slashed in front to keep him at bay. ¡°Bane Below,¡± she cursed. ¡°What are you?¡± I¡¯m not afraid of you. And he wasn¡¯t. He was no mouse. He smiled at her. ¡°Freak eyes,¡± she said, voice quivering. She lunged at him. He knew he¡¯d shaken her; it was a reckless attack. He dodged it easily and plowed his fist into her side, his entire arm cloaked in glowing Red strands. The assassin¡¯s breath was torn from her in one great gasp as her knees buckled and she toppled forward. He glanced around. A short distance away on the road was a fresh automobile painted dark green, of a slightly different design than the beige one the assassins used before. The passenger door was open. He darted past her to see their automobile aflame. Fire licked the jagged edges of the shattered back window, smoke billowing out in dark clouds. He could see the captain¡¯s silhouette in the driver¡¯s seat, his head back in a deep sleep. The male Ahraran assassin¡ª Zaba¡ª had his back to Luke, arms folded, quietly observing the burning from a few feet away as if he were a patient stripeshark watching its wounded prey and waiting for the ideal moment to finish the hunt. ¡°Hey!¡± Luke called, running toward the automobile. ¡°Wake up!¡± Daniels didn¡¯t move, but the assassin sure did. He spun on his heel and threw the dagger in his hand with precision. Luke tracked it as best he could and¡ª trusting it was aimed at his heart¡ª placed his forearm in its path, ripping Blue from his chest into his forearm like a gauntlet. The dagger bounced off the skin uselessly as if it struck the glittering scales of an azure dragon. The assassin watched impassively, seemingly unimpressed. He reached down to his belt and came up with a new dagger in each hand. He fell into a combat stance, prepared to intercept Luke. The flames crackled loudly at his back. ¡°You have to wake up!¡± Luke shouted, coming to a stop as far from Zaba as the assassin was to the automobile. Birds leapt from trees at the disturbance, launching themselves elsewhere. ¡°Wake up!¡± The assassin took a step. Silvery metal erupted from his neck. His eyes bulged, and he tilted his head. There he saw, crouched low with spear in hand, the grim, tired face of Captain Deen Daniels. Whatever the man wanted to say came out as a gurgle of blood. He collapsed in a heap, sliding off the crimson-slick spear. Daniels reached for Zaba¡¯s belt and fished up a keyring. He glanced at Luke. ¡°Where is she?¡± Luke gestured at the slumped body behind him. ¡°Is she dead?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± The captain nodded. ¡°Let¡¯s go, then. Quickly.¡± They made their way to the Cathartes automobile, leaving their meager belongings behind in the burning wreck. A pillar of smoke towered above it. As they were leaving, something strange occurred to Luke. Back there, he had absolutely no idea that Niya had crept right up behind him. He was utterly clueless in the moment. So what made him think she was there? ¡ª¡ª¡ª Cyrus lifted a spoon of lentil stew to his mouth, stealing glances at the child-faced assassin sitting across from him on the unadorned floor of the dilapidated house. The room was cold and dimly lit. Only the flickering flames of the stove offered warmth and kept the night¡¯s darkness at bay. The cooking of Luke¡¯s brother tasted as if it were that of a high-class restaurant. It made him a little jealous, he admitted. He hated him. For the gruesome killings he had been forced to watch, he knew he could never bring himself to forgive this boy. And yet he thought he understood him, if only a little. A survivor of the Lumina Purge, stolen from his home like an egg from its nest and pressed into military service. He must have been only a child. What would that do to a person? The boy said the same was the fate of the people of Castitas. Would Frank Duun¡¯s apprentices one day use their butchering lessons on men? Would little Eila use her gentle smiles for deception over honesty? Could the young boys of the Erly family become like this expressionless killer in a patchwork cloak, not a shred of humanity in their eyes? The thought of any of it twisted his heart into knots. It couldn¡¯t be his fault, could it? They broke him. He still did it. He killed Captain Fauke and Lieutenant Korsak. Did what can¡¯t be undone. Took what can¡¯t be returned. He could picture Fauke¡¯s head tumbling to the forest floor in his mind¡­ ¡°You look ill,¡± the assassin said. It was the first thing he¡¯d said in hours. ¡°Is something wrong with the stew?¡± ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± he whispered, trying to banish the memories. Doing so took no small effort. Tomorrow, it would end. He would be executed at sunset, and then it would all be over. The thought of such a release gave him no pleasure knowing what awaited everyone he¡¯d ever grown up with; everyone he¡¯d ever laughed and cried and smiled and screamed with. His burden was fleeting, a few weeks lost and confused as a captive. Theirs would last a lifetime. There was another possibility, of course. He couldn¡¯t help but entertain it. He¡¯d been thinking about it all day. If Luke arrived, Phaethon knows what could happen. If Luke really did show up, it didn¡¯t mean anything in the grand scheme of things. It wouldn¡¯t stop the war. It wouldn¡¯t save the people of Castitas. But it would mean a second chance for Cyrus. A chance to keep on carrying this burden twisted up inside his heart. That¡¯s all he could ask for. 23 - Calliphlox It turned out Daniels was correct. The morning after their struggle, after a half hour or so of cautious surveillance, they drove right past an abandoned Daevan checkpoint into the triangle. The guards had been called away to take part in the impending attack on Ulciscor. They¡¯d lost time, but the captain promised they would still make it with hours to spare. They spent the whole of yesterday recuperating after the battle against the Cathartes assassins, Luke with ribbons of Magenta and Daniels with¡ª finally¡ª some proper sleep. The only thing of use they were able to find in the automobile was a sackful of gourds containing a few days¡¯ worth of water and rations. By some scattered papers in the drawers and compartments they guessed the automobile belonged to a civilian whose transportation was ¡®borrowed¡¯ for the purpose of hunting Luke and Daniels down. He¡¯d decided to put the strangeness of how he¡¯d been alerted to Niya¡¯s presence out of mind for now. He had bigger concerns. About an hour outside Cherima, they passed an automobile parked on the side of the road of a more modern design than the ones that were probably a decade old at this point¡ª large and box-like, painted brown with a slight red tint. There was no one inside and nobody around. ¡°James,¡± Luke said softly. ¡°Has to be,¡± Daniels agreed. He whistled. ¡°Pretty fancy though. That¡¯s the newest model. Your brother must be well off. You sure you¡¯re ready to see him?¡± He hesitated. Was he? The last time he saw anyone from his family was in the Purge. Now his brother was wrapped up in the affairs of the Terra Daevan military. Had the experience changed James? What kind of person was he now? Could Luke bring himself to accept the changes? There was only one way to find out. He nodded. ¡°Yeah. I¡¯m ready.¡± ¡ª¡ª¡ª Chessie whinnied softly as Typhos carefully adjusted her saddle. She was tied to an oil lantern pole next to a bench in front of what must have been a fountain long ago, its centerpiece statue crumbled to pieces in the basin and unrecognizable. She had been mostly tied up here in the center of town this trip, only taking him a ways out for the occasional hunt. She stamped in anticipation, eager to be off and away from this dead place. The mare¡¯s name came from a particular patch on her black and white coat that vaguely resembled that of the squares on a chessboard. ¡°We¡¯ll be leaving soon,¡± he told her, soothing her with a gentle hand. He¡¯d already finished grooming her. He wouldn¡¯t affix the bridle until just before leaving, but he found over the years that Chessie preferred to be kept abreast of his traveling plans in advance. He felt the weight of Hagetaka at his belt beneath the tattered cloak. He would need to clean the blade again before he left. He¡¯d scouted the area in the week and some days since arriving and knew of a good stream where he could do so. He did not think himself cruel. Callous, yes. Yes, absolutely. That was the whole point of the training. He did not enjoy all the killing. He was just very good at it. The thrill inside him when he locked blades with a competent opponent was that of a hammer meeting a nail. As if he were made for that sole purpose. This, though? This was merely business. Once upon a time, he¡¯d have argued otherwise. What he was about to do was evil, he¡¯d say. He couldn¡¯t slay an innocent civilian in cold blood. He¡¯d find a way around it. That was the time before he donned this ragged cloak and embraced who he really was. He was Typhos, the Left Hand¡¯s very own blood-drenched tachi. And his master¡¯s enemies were his enemies. The Alder boy knew far too much. A two week reprieve was more than generous. He wouldn¡¯t let Alder return to Luke¡¯s side and tell him everything. That could set his cowardly little brother on a path he must not take. ¡°What¡¯s her name?¡± Alder asked, walking over. He¡¯d noticed him leaving the house, of course. Alder knew as well as most captives that trying to escape from him was pointless. He would meet his death with honor. At least, he would until Typhos unsheathed Hagetaka. Even the most stronghearted tend to break down and try something in the final moment. ¡°Chessie.¡± ¡°She¡¯s beautiful.¡± Alder tested the bench, then sat down when he was reasonably sure it wouldn¡¯t collapse under him. He eyed the mare and nodded to himself. ¡°She looks well cared for.¡± ¡°Thank you.¡± He scratched Chessie¡¯s chin, and she rubbed against his hand affectionately. ¡°She¡¯s been a companion of mine for years.¡± ¡°So there are things important to you,¡± he said softly. Typhos probably wasn¡¯t meant to hear it, but the heightened senses of his training allowed him to do so. Alder did not strike him as the type to harm Chessie. He was more likely just surprised that a cold-blooded killer had such a bond with an animal. Heartless murderers like him were supposed to be growled at, bitten and chased. Or so people tended to think. That ubiquitous ¡®sixth sense¡¯ all animals supposedly possessed. Master Vega¡¯s training had cleared him of that notion. Animals could be fooled by the proper presentation and attitude. People were the most easily fooled animals of all, as his master would say. That exceptional hearing of his soon drew his attention toward the rumbling of an approaching automobile. It couldn¡¯t be. But the Alder boy had perked up at the sound. He heard it too. Typhos went cold. Impossible. Slowly, a dark green automobile rolled into the empty town square, coming to a halt. From within emerged two people, the visages of both familiar to him as they came close, perhaps one hundred feet off. One was a captain of the Ulciscor Guard. His name escaped Typhos; a meaningless, unimportant man looking rather tired and worse for wear with a spear strapped to his back. The other was a young boy wearing a sky blue jacket with messy black hair and striking red eyes. And he knew that one¡¯s name very well. ¡ª¡ª¡ª ¡°How many did you bring, when I told you none?¡± James Nixus asked from afar. From the first words spoken, any lingering doubts that it wasn¡¯t the same person evaporated. That was his brother. James wore an unpleasant-looking patchwork cloak that seemed as if formed by a hundred filthy rags stitched together. A longsword¡¯s sheath poked out from a waist belt. His blond hair rustled from a head-on gust of wind inside the cloak¡¯s hood, and the lower half of his face was covered by a dark cloth mask. Luke could make out his brother¡¯s scarlet red eyes even at a distance, measuring him. Judging. Beside his brother was a saddled black and white horse tied to a lantern pole, and, thank the Twelve Flocks, Cyrus Alder. His friend must have felt the same, for he folded his hands in prayer after standing up. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°One,¡± Luke said, marching forward. Daniels joined him at a nod, hanging a few feet back. James and Cyrus mirrored them. ¡°To drive you,¡± he said. He stepped carefully, as if the earth were made of fragile glass. ¡°I understand. I should have written permission for this in the letter. I figured you would ignore some of it.¡± He shook his head. ¡°Your choice of companion is quite bold. A captain of the Ulciscor Guard, whose involvement I expressly forbid.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not with the Guard anymore,¡± Daniels called. Luke glanced at him. He shrugged. In a low voice he added, ¡°May as well be true.¡± How does he know, anyway? Daniels isn¡¯t even in uniform. ¡°We¡¯ll see. That¡¯s far enough, spearman.¡± That paused them. Luke and Daniels shared a look. ¡°Not the trusting type, is he?¡± the captain growled. ¡°It¡¯s fine. Do you mind waiting here?¡± ¡°Be careful,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s been a long time since you two last met.¡± Luke nodded and kept walking. He came within twenty feet before his brother stopped moving. ¡°What are you doing here?¡± James asked. ¡°Letter, remember?¡± ¡°Not that,¡± he said, gesturing in a wide arc. ¡°I mean here. This region. Ulciscor. A special guest of Vander Wolf?¡± Luke said nothing. ¡°The second boy who fled that little village. It was you, wasn¡¯t it? Why in Asundria did you not turn tail right then and there? This isn¡¯t a game, Luke.¡± He ground his teeth. This part of his brother, he had not missed. No greetings, no hugs. Separated since the war, and this was the first thing out of his mouth. He suspected, but now he knew it for certain. James only asked him to come all the way here so he could chew him out. ¡°How do you know that, James?¡± ¡°Know what? That it¡¯s dangerous?¡± ¡°You know Daniels by face. And about Castitas. How did you even find Cyrus? He was supposed to go there.¡± ¡°You must have pieced it together,¡± James said. ¡°I¡¯m with the Daevan army. It¡¯s been that way ever since Lumina. That¡¯s not what you should be concerned about. We¡¯ve got to get you back home. I¡¯ll pay your traveling expenses. Where are you living¡ª¡± ¡°James!¡± The name practically boiled out of his mouth. ¡°What¡¯s happened to you? This is too cold, even for you!¡± He took a deep breath and felt his lip quivering. ¡°How can you bring up Lumina like that? Like it was nothing?¡± ¡°It¡¯s all in the past,¡± he said quietly. Luke started toward him again. He wasn¡¯t sure if he wanted to hug or shake or punch him. ¡°James¡ª¡± ¡°James is dead,¡± his brother cut in. ¡°They gave me a new name.¡± He hesitated, but shook his head and kept moving. ¡°No, you¡¯re still James. You¡¯ll always be James.¡± At ten feet apart, his older brother drew the longsword from its sheath and pointed it straight ahead. His eyes were terribly cold. ¡°My name is Typhos,¡± he said, a heat to the words as if he were tempering steel. ¡°And I am the Second Ace of Terra Daeva.¡± Luke stopped dead. He¡¯d never known his brother for a liar. The revelation struck him like a Red-enhanced punch to the jaw. ¡°You¡¯re,¡± was all he could choke out. His throat felt awfully tight. ¡°Go home, little Luke,¡± he said, reverently sheathing the blade. ¡°You must go. Leave Ulciscor¡ª leave Mirastelle¡ª before the morning of the twenty-second. There is nothing you can do in this place.¡± Every sentence was like a hammer hitting an anvil. His brother was one of the leading figures of the invasion? Kindhearted, gallant James? And yet it all fit. Of course James became an Ace. He could do anything he set his mind to. He was the greatest person Luke had ever known. The scale of the accomplishment was not what shocked him to the core. It was the content of what he¡¯d accomplished. ¡°Dad,¡± he said suddenly. He dreaded to know, but Flocks, he needed to. ¡°Where¡¯s Dad? What¡¯s happened to Raum Nixus?¡± His older brother closed his eyes. He thought those scarlet red eyes could not grow colder, but when next they opened, they were ghastly. It reminded him of the eyes he saw in his nightmares, like crystalline frost. ¡°Becoming the Second Ace required candidates to demonstrate unwavering, implacable loyalty.¡± A chill shot up Luke¡¯s spine and forced out a violent shiver. He thought he knew before the words even left his brother¡¯s mouth. ¡°To that end, Barbatos¡­ No, Raum Nixus¡­ I killed him.¡± ¡ª¡ª¡ª The wordless, sorrowful shout ripped from Luke¡¯s throat reminded Typhos of James. That was fine. Luke couldn¡¯t¡ª didn¡¯t need to¡ª understand. He just needed to go back wherever he was calling home these days. Always, this flightless fool of a sibling would push past his limits and get himself hurt. Here he was at the eve of war, trying to dive right into the middle of everything. Traumatizing his little brother all over again was a small price to pay if it meant getting him away from the battlefield. And better to let him know that his family was truly dead and gone than let him go on living a delusion. Luke sank to his knees, head bowed, and began to wail. Typhos gestured to Alder and Daniels. As they approached, he let out a small sigh behind his mask. He figured it might turn out this way. Luke was such an emotionally immature person. Not that being emotionally castrated was much better. He would need to figure out where Luke lived and keep tabs on him. A problem for another time. He could probably wrench the answer out of one of these two after Ulciscor fell and things settled down. ¡°You may leave,¡± Typhos said once they were in earshot. ¡°What did you do to him?¡± the ex-captain¡ª Daniels¡ª said. He crouched down and set his hands on Luke¡¯s shoulders. Luke fell forward into the man¡¯s chest, heaving sobs. ¡°I told him what he needed to hear,¡± he said and turned to make his way over to Chessie. ¡°Count yourself lucky, Alder.¡± Alder said nothing and stiffened as he passed. That was fine, too. The boy seemed made of sturdy stuff. He would¡ª Clapping. Clapping from somewhere behind him, so out of place. ¡°A brilliant show, my lovely little apprentice.¡± His blood froze at the voice. Slowly, he turned to see Levian Vega rounding one of the abandoned buildings, standing tall in full charcoal-coated uniform with dark hair combed back and a broad smile plastered on his face as he clapped. Beside him strode a demure-faced man with midnight-black hair folded to the sides like an open book and dressed in a vivid purple tuxedo coat and a white cravat. Typhos had never once seen the man at his master¡¯s side in nine years serving Terra Daeva. ¡°You approved my leave of absence,¡± Typhos said. ¡°I did,¡± Levian agreed. Though he spoke to Typhos, he kept his eyes on Daniels and Luke and was heading in their direction. He gestured to the man wearing the purple tuxedo coat. ¡°Normally, only Calliphlox observes your vacations.¡± Alder was rooted in place a short distance away, about halfway between Daniels and himself, and Typhos thought he smelled piss from upwind. Calliphlox of the Flocks? What man dared name himself after one of the gods? He supposed it was not much more blasphemous than an organization of assassins called Cathartes. Wait. If he was talented enough to be employed as a spy for Typhos, that meant¡­ The sensation of being watched but no one there. The presence he could never prove. Always just out of sight. He was the Shadow. ¡°What about Ulciscor? Will the others be fine without you?¡± ¡°I¡¯m touched, Ty, but yes. Grendelle is handling the outside probing on our end. It¡¯s not exactly complicated¡ª find a scout, kill a scout. If that fool Guard tries anything, it¡¯s Asmari¡¯s job anyway, not ours. And you know Mammon and his sycophants are already inside the city. I was surprised to finally hear where they¡¯ve been holed up all this time.¡± He snickered. ¡°Trust me, they¡¯ll be just fine until we get back.¡± Still smiling, he picked his way across the street and made a shooing motion at Daniels. ¡°You were acting so oddly, Ty. I was curious, so I figured I¡¯d come along.¡± The ex-captain leaned over Luke protectively and seemed to consider the pair as if he could fight them. He glanced at Typhos. A common Guardsman fighting Cathartes¡¯s best was like fighting the ocean waves on a piece of driftwood. During a storm. Typhos nodded curtly and the man wisely stepped back. Levian closed the gap to Luke and reached down, grabbing him by the hair and pulling him up off his knees. The man called Calliphlox stepped between Daniels and Levian. ¡°I just had to see,¡± he said, meeting Luke¡¯s eyes, ¡°your little secret.¡± 24 - Argent ¡°Do you remember me?¡± That voice was like nails scraping at Luke¡¯s soul. If you asked him, it belonged to the mythological Bane, a dreadful monster of destruction that ravaged every corner of Asundria and sought the end of all life. Legends said it was vanquished long ago by Cardinalis, strongest and mightiest of the Flocks, but the legends have never heard that voice. Luke blinked away tears, grabbing at the hand wrapped around his head. His gaze passed over an eerie smile that curled higher and bared teeth. ¡°Oh, you¡¯re definitely what I think you are. I wonder where that snake of a father hid you. Up in the rafters, perhaps?¡± His entire world turned blue, a circular fan of ice marked in the middle by a single bottomless black pit that surely led Below. He didn¡¯t remember screaming, only that he did. He pulled as much Red into his arms as would fit, shoving his nightmare back with the force of all his fury and fear. The Bane fell on his backside¡ª after flying several feet¡ª with a look of pure shock in those frost-colored eyes. Still screaming, he stepped¡ª no, crashed, impacting the dirt with a Red-fueled foot¡ª and readied a punch. The colors streaked like lightning across his arm and brightened as they were concentrated. He imbued his entire arm with as much hate as he possibly could. There was shouting and screaming and movement and chaos all around him. None of it mattered. The only thing that mattered was turning this vile creature into paste. He pounded forward with his other foot and threw the punch. At the last moment, someone shielded the Bane. A man in a vivid purple tuxedo coat, arm raised defensively. Bone audibly splintered and the man¡¯s arm fell away, bent at an impossible angle. A heartbeat later, he heard glass shatter to the side. Thinking quickly, he blinked Yellow. Glittering specks of Green flowed through the man¡¯s body. Unlike Luke, it did not originate from his chest, but rather a single point on his other arm. With astonishing speed, the man thrust his other arm forward, two fingers extended. He thumped Luke¡¯s exposed elbow with them, delivering a jolt that left him stunned, fist breaking into numbed fingers. The man blurred, roundhouse kicking Daniels down into the dirt as he reached for his spear. He spun back around to Luke and disabled his other arm with another jolt. Arm blurring, he struck Luke in the shoulder using an open-palmed push, knocking him down. ¡°Enough, Calliphlox!¡± the Bane snapped, rising. He fumbled a hand into his coat pocket, searching for something. ¡°Deal with that!¡± Metal met metal with a thunderous ringing. ¡ª¡ª¡ª The Shadow crossed Hagetaka with a medium-length straight sword that seemed to materialize from nowhere. He¡¯d drawn it so quickly Typhos could barely understand where it came from¡ª a hidden sheath pressed against the man¡¯s thigh, carefully tucked behind a belt buckle. Typhos¡¯s hood fell back as he whipped forward, pulling away and testing another angle, trying to exploit the Shadow¡¯s disability. Again, his blade connected with steel. He tried again and again, and each time, the man named after a god met his advances with perfect precision. How can he be this skilled with only one arm? Typhos thought in frustration. And so fast. Was he trained in one-armed combat? He had never met a man with such reflexes. It was as if he could read movements from the first twitch of a muscle. To test his theory, Typhos began adding feints to his barrage of attacks. It was so subtle a novice wouldn¡¯t be able to tell¡ª but the man named Calliphlox did slow down a feather. Their deathly dance of steps and reverse steps, slashes and parries, ducking and weaving drew the two a small distance to the side of the others. From the corner of his eye he glimpsed Master Vega decking that Daniels fellow back onto the ground. That tiny lapse in concentration was all it took for the Shadow to graze his shoulder with a sudden jab evaded too slowly. He planted his feet firmly and began his counterattack, feinting and thrusting, making full use of the tachi¡¯s advantage in range. The embers of emotion that spurred him into action vanished into the vacuum constructed inside his head. There, in the heat of battle, he found the solace; the peace. There was nothing else. No past, no future. No life or death. Only the moment. The Shadow¡¯s concentration deepened as they fought. He could see it on the man¡¯s face; the creased brow, the way his analytical eyes no longer darted everywhere at once, the tightening of his lips. For that man as well, motivations and loyalties and reason and purpose were discarded. There was only the moment. His feet were planted firmly, always moved deliberately. His stance was that of a slight crouch, left side angled toward the Shadow to make his chest a smaller target and the tachi¡¯s reach longer. Every heartbeat a decision was made. Sweep here, thrust there, counter this, dodge that. The execution of their chosen moves was masterful. It was just a matter of making the right ones. They locked blades, both baring teeth and straining knuckles. Typhos was of smaller stature, but their power was comparable with the man¡¯s fresh disability. No, reflexes would decide this duel. Yet his were far worse. It was a conundrum. He would lose. No. Wait. There was a way. Typhos broke the lock aggressively, sliding across his opponent¡¯s sword in a shower of coruscating sparks, forcing the Shadow into a response. The man diverted the strike and riposted. He evaded the thrust and brought his blade back to parry the follow-up slash. The Shadow attempted to knee him in the gut. He anticipated this and withdrew one step, sucking in his stomach to avoid the blow by a fraction of an inch. He feinted reaching for a belt dagger. The purple-coated man slammed the straight sword against Hagetaka to knock it out of his hands. He stabilized the hilt with both hands just in time. Fast as the Flocks! Typhos thought, incredulous. Calliphlox indeed! But the exchange taught him the timing needed. Sweat beaded down his forehead. He could pull it off. The Shadow darted to the side, sweeping wide with a low kick. Typhos drove his foot into the Shadow¡¯s leg to counter it. Hagetaka ripped through the space between them in a beautiful, deadly arc ending at the man¡¯s throat. The tachi found the straight sword¡¯s crossguard instead. Still turning from the momentum of the kick, the Shadow threw his shoulder at Typhos in an attempt to ram him. He stepped to the side to evade. When the man¡¯s foot next came down he restored his balance with the grace of a god, meeting Hagetaka¡¯s overhead slash with the straight sword once more. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. Their blades locked again, Typhos pushed past sparks, intending to part the Shadow¡¯s head from his shoulders. The Shadow riposted, lifting Hagetaka up with all his strength to create an opening for a downward thrust that could not possibly be met in time. In that moment, Typhos released the tachi as if the force had knocked it from his grip. He flung his hands to his belt and came up with two obsidian-edged daggers, a maneuver practiced tens of thousands of times. One to stop the sword¡¯s advance, another to bury in his foe. He felt the edge shatter against the straight sword¡¯s tempered steel, but that was of no concern. The second dagger pierced cloth and flesh and plunged right through the Shadow¡¯s lung. Hagetaka thumped the dirt as he drew the dagger out, its black edge slick with blood. The Shadow kneed him the gut. It was so incongruent with what he expected he couldn¡¯t avoid it in time. A stain began to darken that purple tuxedo coat as he kicked Typhos hard in the thigh. He grunted from the pain, meeting straight sword with bloodied dagger. He could feel the weapon giving way and feinted with glancing eyes and a bend of the ankles a desperate lunge for Hagetaka. The obsidian edge cracked as the Shadow swept a leg out to reposition the tachi. He slammed a boot down on the hilt to stop it from moving and threw himself out of the sword¡¯s way. He tossed the first dagger aside and dug his toe under the hilt, kicking it up into his free hand as he swung the other dagger against the incoming slash. The sword shattered the second dagger to pieces and kept going¡ª meeting one-handed Hagetaka and knocking it aside before Typhos could discard the dagger and get a second hand on it. That was that, then. He was dead. The Shadow¡¯s slash had arrived so fast. Unbelievable. It was as if the very wind guided this man¡¯s path. In a final, truly desperate act he threw himself at the Shadow, hoping to embed the obsidian shards clinging to the dagger¡¯s hilt inside the man¡¯s other lung. Of course he knew it would be parried, but he¡¯d drawn too close and could not evade the sword defenseless. The only hope now was that he would choke on his own blood in their last exchange. The man called Calliphlox swept Typhos¡¯s legs out from under him, avoiding the exchange entirely. He flipped the sword into a reverse grip and kicked him over. He drove the blade point-first through the back of his palm into the dirt, eliciting a scream. He swept the dagger aside and forced Typhos all the way down with a knee to the back. He let go of the sword buried in the earth and grappled Typhos¡¯s other arm into a lock. He lifted his knee and slipped the arm underneath, pinning wrist to back. He would allow him neither last exchange nor death. He craned his neck and watched the Shadow reach for his ankle and come up with a hollow needle. He dextrously flipped it around his fingers and jammed it between his ribs to reinflate his collapsed lung. This without so much as a whimper. Did he feel nothing? Not even pain? He was, Typhos realized, the greatest weapon in all of Cathartes. ¡ª¡ª¡ª Luke groaned, writhing on the ground. It was hard to breathe. His entire body felt like prickling pins. ¡°Enjoy that,¡± the blue-eyed Bane said, holding a needle-tipped syringe. ¡°It¡¯s a paralyzing agent.¡± He grunted the last word, kicking Daniels¡ª lying on the ground¡ª hard in the ribs with a thick black boot. The captain cried out, arms tight around his torso to protect his insides. He¡¯d lost easily. At some point he¡¯d drawn his spear but it was battered away by the Bane like a toy from an unruly child. Cyrus had fallen to his knees further up the street. He held himself up on feeble arms, staring down at the dirt, lips moving in either prayer or denial. Why wasn¡¯t he running? As if in answer, James slammed to the earth, the clattering of steel ended. His brother let out a scream as the purple-suited man nailed him through the palm. Luke would have winced if his face could still move that much. He¡¯d never seen James lose a fight to anybody. ¡°It is done, Master Vega,¡± the man said, knee planted firmly on James¡¯s back. He shoved his brother cheek-first into the dirt. Blood was soaking through the tuxedo coat, but his voice was refined, breathing steady, expression serene as if the stain were a leak in his watergourd. Vega dusted off his charcoal-colored coat, shining a button with the back of a finger. He cleared his throat quite dramatically, unable to keep the featherless bastard grin off his face. ¡°Brother, yes?¡± Vega asked. Luke tried to kill him by staring a hole through his head, but it didn¡¯t work. ¡°The resemblance is quite striking. I thought we¡¯d settled this, Ty? Cathartes is your family. No other.¡± ¡°He¡¯s not my brother,¡± James said through pained gasps and clenched teeth. ¡°Please, Master Vega. I didn¡¯t know he survived.¡± ¡°Sounds like you know him to me,¡± he said, replacing the syringe and shuffling around a different pocket for something else. ¡°He¡¯s nobody,¡± James breathed. Everyone else was terribly quiet. ¡°Nobody, Master Vega. You¡¯ll never see him again.¡± ¡°I sure won¡¯t,¡± Vega said lightly, drawing a thunderflute. He pointed it down at Luke¡¯s heart. The face from his nightmares smiled at him. ¡°Please, master,¡± he begged, hyperventilating. ¡°Please. Please.¡± Flocks. This was it. Luke shut his eyes and saw old man Snare, smiling, welcoming him home, chastising him for going on such a foolish adventure. Kindly Hanami and chivalrous Hou were there to greet him. The last things he heard were the rushing of wind and the bang like burning bamboo from his dreams. A terrible pain unlike any other blossomed in his chest and everything ended. ¡ª¡ª¡ª Deen¡¯s spirit broke as he watched Luke die, the thunderflute piercing his heart in a sickening spray of blood, flecks of red scattered on the wind like grisly petals. Luke, who¡¯d he sworn to protect. He¡¯d failed again. His life had been nothing but a series of failures. He would leave Lyla a widow. She would never know, always uncertain whether or not he would return one day. She would never have peace again in her life. All because of him. She would¡­ She¡­ What was that wind? Deafened by the bang, he could still faintly hear it rushing. It battered everyone, whipping hair and clothes and dust all around in a gale. The wind and dust became a roaring column, crashing down on them and blowing Vega and Deen back. In the middle of the column, a figure fell from the sky. They landed in a crouch, one hand to the ground. They were slim, wearing a black cloak and completely wrapped from head to toe in generous white bandages that revealed not a strand of hair nor a scrap of skin, only a set of gleaming golden eyes. Deen thought it must be one of the Twelve Flocks given shape, come to perform a miracle. Whoever it was met Deen¡¯s eyes and pointed at the saddled horse. Vega¡ª his face gone slack¡ª aimed the thunderflute at Deen¡¯s head, but as he fired it with a bang, his arm jerked from an intense gust and missed, the projectile veering out of sight. It was the most incredible thing Deen had ever seen. Vega gripped his forearm to steady his aim, this time at the bandaged figure. He was barking something, and the man named Calliphlox lifted himself off of Luke¡¯s brother. Deen shook himself out of his reverie and snatched up his spear, then grabbed Cyrus by the hand and yanked him into a run. Two more deafening pops split the air to hasten their step. They stumbled to a stop before the horse, anxiously trembling with eyes rolled. That wasn¡¯t good. They might have to abandon it and try their luck on foot. It was a grim premise, this far from civilization. Cyrus suddenly reached out a hand and stroked the horse¡¯s snout, saying something he couldn¡¯t hear with his ears still ringing. He spent a few precious seconds watching their savior. The bandaged figure warded off both attackers with blasts of wind, determined not to let either one get their footing. He returned his attention to the horse, and found that Cyrus had managed to soothe it. Cyrus climbed on, motioning for Deen to get behind him. He wasn¡¯t about to complain¡ª he¡¯d ridden before, but not without a bridle. He decided if Cyrus thought he could do it, that was that. He grabbed hold of Cyrus¡¯s hand to boost himself up and took an unsteady seat. He wrapped his arms around the boy for stability. Cyrus picked up the lead and gestured. He severed it from the pole with the tip of his spear. Cyrus leaned down, prompting the horse with his knees, and they began to ride. The last Deen saw of Cherima was that cloaked figure bending, cradling Luke¡¯s corpse, and springing into the sky. 25 - Homesick Beneath a sweltering summer sun, James Nixus breathed in the sweet-smelling air of the Lumina Gardens as it was carried along a passing pleasantly cool breeze. Before him stretched a field of orchids arranged in wide rows, blue petals reaching out as if to grasp that bright orb high above, all swaying together in the wind like the gentle rhythmic waves of an ocean. Not far off, the orchids were neatly replaced by rows of a pink flower, and another kind beyond those. Meticulously trimmed berry bushes and magnificent trees of many kinds framed the view. It was all laid out in geometric patterns perhaps only a bird could fully appreciate. Maybe that was the point, as the mile-wide garden was considered a national monument dedicated to the Cardinalis. He ventured deeper and came upon the clearing he had become quite familiar with this summer. Three wide mats and long benches carpeted the grass to either side, all packed with young boys and girls of varying heights and ages. They wore the same thing he did: a loose-fitting white gi of long-sleeved jackets and wide ankle-length trousers, tightly wrapped with black belts. Here and there, he could see the class instructors working with the students. They wore the gi as well. One instructor kneeled beside a young boy and gently adjusted his posture, speaking softly. A female instructor watched with a hawk¡¯s eyes as a group of older children cycled through a series of forms in unison. Behind all the mats and benches and people rose one of the biggest trees James had ever seen. It was a proud, massive trunk painted with crimson laurel, leaves fanned wide to drink the sunlight. It was one of several that formed the centerpiece of the Gardens. Tourists from all across Asundria would visit Lumina every year to catch a glimpse of the famous crimson laurels blooming in the summer. They were a tricky species, not accepting the soil of any other region aside from southern Ganymede. This one swayed in the wind as the flowers did but with a grace they could not possibly hope to match. Its pleasant scent was marred by the sweat of those surrounding it. ¡°Ah, good. There¡¯s James,¡± a voice called. Short, bald Jubi-ei waved him over to join the cluster of children. ¡°You¡¯re late. Lucas again?¡± His mentor had two wispy white strands of a mustache hanging down to his chin in the Shinkaian fashion. Like all Shinkaians, Jubi-ei had a faint cyan tinge to his skin, pale in his case. The aspect was unique to Shinkai-blooded people, unconnected to the typical variation of skin color. It also had nothing to do with how pure-blooded one was, but some as-of-yet-undiscovered factor. ¡°Yes. I apologize, Jubi-ei,¡± he said, signing deference with his fingers. Luke tried standing up for a student¡ª one he barely knew¡ª being hassled by three older boys for lunch money after school. It went about as well as you could expect. For his brother¡¯s black eye, he repaid all three of them with bruises. The faculty was not happy about that. The only reason Jubi-ei and the other instructors didn¡¯t know about it was because Luke begged the principal not to contact them. The whole ordeal ran a real risk of getting him kicked out of these martial classes, but he lucked out and they were let off with a very stern warning. Jubi-ei nodded in understanding and immediately launched his students into the lesson. He was a wise man who spoke with his hands, gesturing as he described the week¡¯s kata. They would gain a feel for the form, memorize it, then steadily incorporate it into increasingly complex methods of sparring. Once, the other students would have groaned at the prospect of sparring against James. A waste of time, they¡¯d whisper. They were several years his senior¡ª he was only eight¡ª but even in the free sparring where any combination of kata could be performed, they found themselves challenged and occasionally outmatched by him. A quiet respect had built between he and the rest of the class. It was distant though, and he did not feel a closeness to any of them. James didn¡¯t mind. He was not here to make friends. Even in school, he held no interest in his peers. Couldn¡¯t they sense it? The nobles had shattered the peace of Asundria with their bickering and squabbling. The Altairan and Vegai factions clashed with the Munitiod faction on the regular in the Proxima corridor of all places, as if to spit on the wishes of its poor queen. Every day more and more commoners were being dragged into a senseless struggle for power. It would swallow everybody up. He watched Jubi-ei take the stance, then as with the other students he did his best to imitate what he saw. Their mentor would then check them one by one for major inaccuracies and work out minor issues throughout the rest of the afternoon. The only noble of consequence with a proper head on his shoulders seemed to be Lumina¡¯s very own Prince Zede. Admittedly, the political heart of the matter was way beyond his eight-year-old head, but he¡¯d read transcripts in the weekend papers and listened to radio discussions. The young Ganymedian prince tended to be the only voice of reason in any given mix of nobles, highborn or lowborn alike. James wanted to join the prince¡¯s international peacekeeping force, the Feathered Chevaliers. He¡¯d only told his parents and Luke¡ª the latter he regretted¡ª and was working his way through martial arts classes like Jubi-ei¡¯s at his father¡¯s advice in order to build a mind and body that met the famously strict standards of the Chevaliers. This was his second summer training, and there would be many more before he came of age. Mending the Asundrian Union¡¯s fraying bond of nations would take a lot more than one person¡¯s efforts, and he wanted to offer the prince what he could. Jubi-ei adjusted his shoulders a feather looser, nodded to himself and moved on to the next student. He knew that he should be enjoying his youth, goofing off and playing around like Luke. All his little brother did was sit back and watch the clouds daydreaming or pull pranks on people. It was hard to describe why he didn¡¯t want to join him. It was vexing. He didn¡¯t hate his brother or the things he did; the trouble he sometimes got them both into with his antics. No, he loved him. He took a deep whiff of that flowery scent riding on the wind. Balance, maybe? If his brother never took anything seriously, then wasn¡¯t it his responsibility to always take everything seriously? Why did he care? He just did. Maybe only the Flocks Above could really explain it for sure. He just wanted to be strong enough, capable enough to protect his birthplace. His home, his family. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. James lost himself in the kata, thoughts growing distant. But he held onto that feeling, for it made him stronger. He practiced under the blistering sun until it began to dip and Jubi-ei¡¯s class ended. ¡ª¡ª¡ª The Great Asundrian Pines blurred by as Typhos stared out the automobile window. The entire forest was bathed was one side in the orange light of the setting sun. He sat beside the Shadow in the back pair of leather seats. He was on the passenger side. Their master drove. ¡°I can only speculate,¡± Ernest Calliphlox was saying in an eloquent voice, refined yet servile, ¡°but I believe that bandaged foe was a genuine user of the individual¡¯s kingdom.¡± ¡°And the boy?¡± Levian asked, tapping the steering wheel with a finger. ¡°The red, obviously.¡± He eyed Calliphlox¡¯s bandaged stump as he said it. ¡°Did you notice any others?¡± ¡°I did not,¡± Calliphlox said. He moved to fold his arms, then glanced at his stump with an expression that was more annoyed than anything. ¡°But the red ampules were all distributed to Sirius, not Capella. We may want to pay a visit to Tremark to question Boreag.¡± He didn¡¯t know what to make of that. Luke had been working with Rhea¡¯s rebels? It made no sense. Why hadn¡¯t he mentioned it? He didn¡¯t know much about the individual¡¯s kingdom, either. The scraps he¡¯d been given by Master Vega over the years was that it referred to a strange, otherworldly power that fascinated the emperor. It didn¡¯t make much sense as a name. A kingdom was a nation of people ruled by a king. So what was an individual¡¯s kingdom? A king? A kingdom consisting of only one person? Nonsense. ¡°Going behind her back?¡± Levian smiled. ¡°That¡¯s probably for the best. I¡¯d prefer not to deal with that woman. Each truth she offers is laced in a quilt of lies. I¡¯ll send the both of you in a few weeks.¡± ¡°That¡¯s too great a risk, master.¡± Calliphlox shook his head emphatically. ¡°I am against this. The fledglings cannot be charged with your protection. They are unreliable. Untrustworthy.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t patronize me,¡± Levian snapped. ¡°I can handle myself. Even then, if I were to fall, you know very well what your duty becomes.¡± Calliphlox fell silent. After a moment, he nodded. ¡°As you wish, Master Vega. I will respect your decision.¡± That was the partnership of Elite and Ace they were talking about, he thought. Calliphlox must have been the real Second Ace all this time. When an Elite retires or dies, the Ace takes their place as Elite and appoints an Ace of their own. It was a policy that hadn¡¯t happened yet in the brief history of the Empire¡ª the Fifth Elite pair was a special case, those two were both replaced. He was a fake, intended to draw attention away from the truth. He¡¯d never felt himself truly partner to Levian. He never knew the freedom to speak to the Left Hand in that way. A puppet reprimanding the one holding its strings was unthinkable. ¡°If they¡¯re trying to ambush us,¡± Levian said suddenly, ¡°they¡¯re doing quite a poor job.¡± ¡°One of Rhea¡¯s?¡± Calliphlox asked. The man flexed his fingers and rolled his shoulders, then laid a hand on the side door handle. Flocks have mercy on whoever it was. It didn¡¯t take long to find out. He was surprised to see Niya Samatkaeb had apparently been tailing them all this way to Cherima¡ª just as surprised as Master Vega. ¡°Does this look like Ulciscor?¡± Levian called, poking his head out the window. As she approached from the middle of the trail, he added, ¡°Well you certainly look pleasant.¡± ¡°Master Vega?¡± she asked tiredly, exhaustion plain on her face as she weakly bowed, standing just outside the driver window. Her outfit was torn and dirtied, and she smelled of sweat and grime. The woman rubbed her bleary eyes as if to check if the automobile full of people in front of her would disappear. ¡°Zaba and I lent ourselves to the Silhouette as you ordered. We were tasked here by one of the higher-ups.¡± Levian chewed on that for a moment, then hopped out of the automobile. Calliphlox joined him. As he rose, the man shook his head, silently telling Typhos to remain seated. He obeyed without objection. ¡°To do what?¡± his master asked. ¡°To execute a captain and a red-eyed boy that he smuggled out of the city.¡± She blinked. ¡°He looked a lot like the Ace, actually.¡± ¡°What else?¡± Levian swiveled his head around. ¡°Where is Zaba?¡± Anger flashed across her face. ¡°Those Rigel bastards never told us a thing,¡± she said quietly. ¡°All they said was that the two of them were definitely going to Cherima. There was something¡­ supernatural about the way the boy fought. He had strength several times greater than expected. The captain¡¯s spearmanship was nothing to write off, either.¡± ¡°You were defeated,¡± Levian guessed. ¡°We were utterly routed,¡± she said through gritted teeth. ¡°Please, Master Vega. Punish me for my failure however you wish, but permit me to exact my vengeance for Zaba first, particularly on that captain.¡± Levian shrugged. ¡°Wasn¡¯t my mission you bungled. We took out the boy. Good news is the captain¡¯s still out there. That being said, I think that¡¯s enough of a vacation for you. I don¡¯t appreciate Rigel getting my subordinates killed.¡± He thumbed back at the automobile. ¡°Get in.¡± ¡°Oh, you¡¯re here as well, Ace,¡± she said, noting him as she climbed into the front passenger seat. ¡°My apologies. Greetings.¡± He grunted. No one corrected her. ¡°And you¡­ are you alright, sir?¡± she asked Calliphlox, glancing at his bandaged stump and bloodied tuxedo coat. Calliphlox raised an eyebrow at her, but said nothing. Niya opened her mouth to say more, but thought better of it and returned the silence with her own. ¡°He¡¯s a bit shy,¡± Levian said, slamming down on the gas pedal. ¡°And homesick. You know, for that miserable little village. Let¡¯s save the introductions for later and get out of this clipping forest before we run into anybody else.¡± Endless rows of trees upon trees passed them by, as if they were a thousand hands waving goodbye. Typhos looked down at his bandaged palm. Calliphlox had cleansed and stitched up the wound with a field kit the moment they realized Alder and Daniels had gone out of reach. Treated by the very man he fought to death, a hollow needle sticking out of his bloodstained tuxedo coat as he sewed carefully with his one hand, biting down on the threads to sever them. Levian promised him one of the finest surgeons in Tenebrae after this was over and done with. It was there, laying in the filth and dirt of a forgotten town, that he realized a truth. He hurt, there was no question about that. His hand, his soul. But with Luke¡¯s passing, there wasn¡¯t a single person left in the world to tie him down to his old life. No one left to judge him for the things he¡¯d done. No more moral guillotine hanging above his head for his sins. No more obligations, for what could burden him? No more guilt, for who would condemn him? The truth was, Typhos was free. 26 - Chance Luke reminded Deen of himself. His younger self, during the days of the war. That snarky attitude all teenagers have, but the willingness to act on what was right. He¡¯d lost the first when his father died and he was forced to provide for his family in the hardest of times. He thought, perhaps, he¡¯d already lost the second somewhere along the way from all the years of bowing and scraping to the Second Regiment elitists every time one of them criticized a member of the Fourth¡ª the South Wall. He¡¯d never spoken up about the slights. Why bother? They were correct. It was an open secret that the worst recruits went to the least strategically important side of Ulciscor¡¯s defenses. The South Wall practically touched the Crack. An advancing army wouldn¡¯t be able to squeeze a sizable force through without crossing paths with the bulk of the Guard¡¯s finest, the Second Regiment of the Southwest Wall. They were correct, but were they right? Army divisions shouldn¡¯t squabble the way the Guard¡¯s always do. And yet he never had the nerve to speak up about it to a superior. Did that make him a coward? Maybe. Stop distracting yourself with politics. You let a child under your protection die. You¡¯re worse than a coward. You¡¯re a DISGRACE. The image of Luke¡¯s blood spraying everywhere drilled itself into his mind. It made him nauseous. He should have never driven Luke to Cherima. His confidence poisoned Lyla. It always had with her, from the very beginning. He should have come alone. Why did he never think of that? He felt sick¡ª about Luke, about himself, about Ulciscor. Everything was all so horribly wrong. ¡°There¡¯s nothing you could have done,¡± a voice said quietly. Deen started, blinking but unseeing at first. It was nighttime. The shining orb overhead was that of a gibbous, nearly full moon. They were still riding, his backside sore, horse trotting dutifully along the Pines. He¡¯d fallen asleep, fitful as it was. That wasn¡¯t good¡ª he could have slipped off and broken his neck. ¡°How long have I been out?¡± he asked, feeling groggy. ¡°Not long,¡± Cyrus answered. ¡°Did I say something?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Cyrus said. ¡°Sorry.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve got nothing to apologize for.¡± He let out a long sigh. Get yourself together, Deen Daniels. You are a captain of the Ulciscor Guard. Were, at least. ¡°Neither of us do.¡± They were traveling along the road, but weren¡¯t in direct sight of it. Levian Vega¡¯s ostentatious automobile passed them hours ago, but better to stay alert in case they found a way to make the second automobile¡ª the one Deen had stolen from the assassins¡ª work without a key. He¡¯d heard rumors in the Guard that that kind of thing was possible. Ahead, he could see the electrical lights of Gilos. He was impressed that Cyrus had managed to keep them on course with no trail, even in the dark. They had no choice but to try their luck there, soldiers on watch for them or not. They could very well starve all the way out here. All they had to work with was a meager amount of cash in Deen¡¯s pocket. He felt naked without a spear strapped to his back. He had a feeling no one was looking for them, though. From Vega¡¯s perspective, it must have looked like the bandaged person was protecting them and would handle things from there. In reality, the two of them hadn¡¯t seen their mysterious savior since that moment. Who even was it? Why did they swoop in when they did? Why not sooner? Thinking about that moment was painful and left him feeling bitter, so he pushed it aside for now. ¡°Where did you learn to ride?¡± he asked instead. ¡°My father taught me,¡± Cyrus said. ¡°My village always needs riders to head into Ulciscor to fetch goods we can¡¯t produce ourselves.¡± That made sense. Deen would have known that if he worked the Southwest Wall. It was the entrance almost all visitors used. The horse whinnied. Cyrus stroked her with a gentle hand. ¡°Nice to hear you talking too, Chessie,¡± he said softly. ¡°You named it?¡± ¡°She was already named. By Luke¡¯s brother.¡± ¡°Ah. So she belongs to James.¡± So that was how he traveled to Cherima. If only they knew that when they first saw Vega¡¯s automobile. If only¡­ He shook his head. ¡°Well, you¡¯re phenomenal at riding. Thank you.¡± ¡°Sure thing.¡± For a time, the only sounds that could be heard were the chirping of insects and Chessie¡¯s hooves clopping and brushing past undergrowth, until Cyrus took a deep breath and changed the subject. ¡°Captain Fauke and Lieutenant Korsak didn¡¯t make it.¡± ¡°I thought so,¡± he said sadly. ¡°They were brave to the end. I thought someone should know.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll pass it on. If nothing else, I¡¯ll make sure the Guard knows that.¡± ¡°Thanks.¡± After another drawn-out moment of silence, he asked, ¡°His name is James?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Deen said. ¡°James Nixus.¡± ¡°What do you think will happen to him?¡± Cyrus swallowed. ¡°I suppose I shouldn¡¯t care, after what he did to Fauke and Korsak.¡± ¡°They won¡¯t kill him,¡± he said. ¡°At least I don¡¯t think so. To me, it looked like they were trying to stuff some sick lesson into his head.¡± I thought we¡¯d settled this, Ty? Cathartes is your family. No other. Something about that name¡­ ¡°Flocks Above,¡± Deen cursed in a whisper. ¡°I should have realized it sooner. Why would they let him get away with outright betrayal? Vega kept calling him that odd nickname. Ty. Short for Typhos. It all fits.¡± ¡°I had a feeling he was someone like that,¡± Cyrus said. ¡°Luke didn¡¯t know. That¡¯s why he collapsed back then. I¡¯m sure of it.¡± ¡°He came all the way from Aetas Origo,¡± Deen said, ¡°looking for an Elite with blue eyes.¡± ¡°And he found him,¡± Cyrus said softly. Deen would be a flightless fool if he said he never thought about seeking revenge against his father¡¯s killer. But he hadn¡¯t seen the moment. He didn¡¯t know who it was. Just some nameless, faceless Daevan grunt who scored a lucky blow in the war. What would it do to a person¡ª a child¡ª that was forced to watch a tragedy unfold on their own family? Deen channeled that pain he felt and used the spearmanship his father taught him to join the Guard and score some lucky blows of his own against the Daevans. But he was already of age at that time. Luke couldn¡¯t have even done that. He would have only been seven years old. ¡°There will be more children like Luke,¡± he said, head bowed. ¡°On the twenty-second, Vega said.¡± ¡°James told me the same.¡± ¡°He has pretty loose lips for one of the Elites,¡± Deen said with a mirthless chuckle. ¡°They expected us to die.¡± ¡°We would have, if someone didn¡¯t literally swoop down from the sky and save us.¡± Deen nodded at that. But was it true? The bandaged person was there to save them? Somehow, he doubted it. He had a feeling it had nothing to do with them and everything to do with Luke and his strange abilities. Cyrus hadn¡¯t asked about how Luke was able to shatter a man¡¯s arm with the punching force of an ordinary teenager, which was fine. Deen wasn¡¯t inclined to answer that kind of question. Not only did he have no idea what it really was, but Luke had confided in him alone. The Walls do not spread secrets, as they say. If it helped in some way, maybe he¡¯d reconsider, but there was no point in confusing this battered boy with unnecessary¡ª unbelievable¡ª details. ¡°There¡¯s nothing we can do to help, is there?¡± Cyrus asked, the dejection plain on his tongue. ¡°It¡¯s just a date.¡± It was useless knowledge. The Guard would have no trouble responding to an attack in a timely manner whether or not they knew the exact day Terra Daeva was planning to invade. Was anything that they discussed actually of consequence? He pushed through the pain of reliving the moment and tried to think of something. Anything¡­ And he remembered. Mammon and his sycophants are already inside the city. Vega¡¯s smug explanation of current events to James echoed in his mind. I was surprised to finally hear where they¡¯ve been holed up all this time. ¡°Mammon,¡± Deen said. He sat up, feeling as though a flash of lightning just lit up the space inside his head. Flocks, his backside ached. ¡°Vega said Mammon Rigel is inside Ulciscor.¡± Cyrus¡¯s breath caught. ¡°He¡¯s hiding there. Right now. And nobody knows. Nobody but our enemies and the two of us.¡± Deen reached for the spear at his back, but only found empty air. He made a fist instead, and swore a prayer on it. Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! ¡°There is something we can do,¡± Deen said. They put the matter aside as they crossed the boundary of Gilos. The Ursan town was much the same as Deen last saw it, only emptier. The roaming packs of drunken soldiers had been swept away like dust by a broom. Only a few of those remained, marching the streets straight-backed in twos or threes. Were they on the lookout after all? His heart leapt into his throat when a set of patrols passed by and glanced up at Chessie, but nothing happened. Just peacekeepers, then. A necessary bunch, since Ursa would be staging the bulk of the Daevan invaders. Order needed to be maintained in the towns. He chatted up a few soldiers and townsfolk as they picked their way through the streets, never for more than a minute at a time. They were mostly fresh recruits, he learned. All of the soldiers had the Shield embroidered into their brown-and-yellow uniforms, identifying their allegiance to Asmari Capella. All of the Elites had raised the pay for joining the Daevan reserves substantially, so a whole flock of them signed up recently. The entire town¡ª soldiers and civilians alike¡ª had become well aware of the coming war. The civilians called it a shame; the recruits called it their job. Some of the soldiers acted proud, others he could tell deeply regretted signing up for a little extra cash. The difference between the two amounted to little, if anything. They were all cogs of the same machine of conquest and ruin now. ¡°You¡¯re taking your break already?¡± one gruff soldier asked her partner, the pair of them standing nearby. ¡°We¡¯ve barely been out here an hour, Grasi. Forget to piss?¡± ¡°Something like that,¡± her partner said, waving her off. The second soldier began walking right toward Chessie with a sense of purpose. ¡°Stay quiet,¡± Deen whispered. ¡°Something¡¯s off about this guy. Don¡¯t bolt unless I say so. If I fall off, that¡¯s on me.¡± Cyrus nodded. ¡°Excuse me,¡± the soldier¡ª Grasi¡ª called, eyes on Deen. The man was of middling height, skin the dark tan of a southern Asundrian, wearing spectacles, a brown-and-yellow uniform, and a golden armband. Deen had seen others this night wearing the armband, but hadn¡¯t managed to get a proper answer on what it was. Some kind of internal politics, he guessed. As the soldier drew closer, he glanced around furtively. He squinted and gasped. ¡°I thought I recognized you,¡± he said in a hushed tone. ¡°You¡¯re the man from the Pale Bill the other day, right?¡± Of all the wing-clipped people in town to run into. Someone from the tavern where he and Luke had been openly attacked by Cathartes assassins. They¡¯d been labeled agents of Mirastelle then. Enemies of Terra Daeva. He eyed Grasi. The soldier pushed his spectacles up with a fingertip. This man could have easily made a report to his superior and they¡¯d have been none the wiser. What was his game, confronting them directly like this? Blackmail? ¡°I am,¡± Deen said. If he already knew, might as well get on with it. A grim part of his mind registered that Grasi¡¯s only observable weapon was a tiny belt knife. Flocks know if his legs will cooperate after dismounting, they felt so sore. ¡°Are you really what that woman from Cathartes called you?¡± Grasi spoke in a conspiratorial whisper, glancing side to side to ensure he still wasn¡¯t being overheard. ¡°Mirastelle?¡± Deen swallowed hard. He dug deep and found his courage, closing his eyes. When next he opened them, he was stone, an impenetrable wall. ¡°I am,¡± he said, locking eyes with the soldier. ¡°What of it?¡± He watched that belt knife expectantly, ready to throw himself off Chessie into a brawl to the death. He imagined throwing his coin pouch to Cyrus and giving one last order for the boy to flee. He would not let him fall into Daevan hands again. ¡°Lady Rhea sends her regards,¡± Grasi said softly. ¡°How can I help?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know who that is.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t need to,¡± Grasi said, raising a hand and turning it over to show the palm. The motion drew Deen¡¯s attention to that golden armband. Was that on purpose? ¡°Why offer to help us?¡± ¡°The Lady is on your side this day.¡± He adjusted his spectacles and bowed his head. ¡°Fortune favors you. That¡¯s all you need to know.¡± ¡°And how can I trust you?¡± ¡°Do you have another choice? I watched you leave this town in an automobile. You¡¯ve returned on horseback without a saddle or that spear of yours, stained with dust. Things don¡¯t seem to be going well for you.¡± Deen winced at that. ¡°I apologize.¡± Grasi wrung his hands. The soldier glanced at Cyrus. If he noticed Deen was traveling with a different boy since last time, he made no comment on the matter. ¡°Perhaps I¡¯ve said too much.¡± Deen sighed. ¡°We¡¯re just trying to get home. Whatever this is about, we¡¯re not keen on getting involved.¡± ¡°Do you still have access to an automobile?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°Would you like one?¡± Cyrus and Deen shared a look. ¡ª¡ª¡ª Cyrus had killed Luke as surely as if he¡¯d been the one holding the thunderflute. He knew it wasn¡¯t true. He knew it. But that was what the loudest piece of his mind kept saying, over and over. How could you survive when the one who came to save you died? None of this would have happened if you¡¯d held your tongue and died with Korsak. Such thoughts haunted him as he dismounted Chessie and tied her to a pole using a headstall and lead Deen had purchased a few streets back. He stroked her muzzle and gave her some gentle words of encouragement to help her relax. She was calm enough without it, a sign of good training. He did it anyway, if only for himself. They were on the other end of Gilos from where they¡¯d met Grasi, just outside a diner he¡¯d directed them to. As for the man himself, he¡¯d left them behind. He¡¯d used a short break for his patrol to speak with them and wouldn¡¯t have had enough time to accompany them all the way. The diner was one wide room with four labeled doors at the furthest ends of the back wall, one side leading to restrooms, the other to an employee break room and the kitchen. Ceiling fans decorated with electrical lights spun slowly above tables¡ª only a few occupied¡ª that smelled strongly of cooked venison. The low hum of chatter at the tables was undisturbed by their presence. The centerpiece of the room was a wide counter with stools placed in one long row the outside, manned by a blonde woman wearing a golden necklace over utilitarian work clothes, standing at attention with arms folded, surveying the diner like a general on a battlefield. She made eye contact with Cyrus and flashed a smile. Then she saw Deen and scowled. ¡°She knows me,¡± Deen said softly. ¡°She looks familiar.¡± ¡°Is that good or bad?¡± ¡°Honestly, I¡¯m not sure,¡± the captain said, taking an uncertain step back. ¡°Like I said on the way, this could still be some sort of trap.¡± A second chance¡­ ¡°Let¡¯s find out.¡± Cyrus started forward past him. ¡°Come on.¡± The woman smoothed her face as they sat down. They picked a pair of stools quite far from the nearest patron. ¡°Handa¡¯s Heaven. I¡¯m Colette Handa. What can I get you two?¡± She beckoned Deen closer with a finger and glanced at Cyrus. The captain nodded to her and leaned in. She lowered her voice to a whisper, but kept it loud enough for Cyrus to hear. ¡°If you bring assassins into my diner, I¡¯ll do the job they can¡¯t. Keep your heads down, eat your food, and leave. Now, what do you want?¡± ¡°Grasi sent us,¡± Deen said. Colette¡¯s expression cycled through several emotions before settling on a scowl again. ¡°Did he, now?¡± She reached behind and grabbed a menu. She slid it across the counter and folded her arms. Her hands were covered by a pair of durable work gloves. Deen plucked a note written by Grasi from his pocket and deftly dropped it on the counter as he lifted the menu. She collected it as he handed the menu to Cyrus and told him to pick something out. He examined the menu half-heartedly, more intent on listening to the conversation. It was mostly various forms of seasoned venison dishes. It didn¡¯t really matter what he picked. He didn¡¯t care. Good as James¡¯s lentil stew was, it was still bland and repetitive. Anything with meat would beat the last few weeks of his life easily. ¡°Well, aren¡¯t you special,¡± Colette said, crumpling the note with one eyebrow raised. ¡°My husband doesn¡¯t go lending the family automobile to just anybody. You will return it.¡± ¡°Of course,¡± Deen said, palms up. ¡°All we need to use it for is¡ª¡± She held up a hand to forestall him. ¡°Don¡¯t discuss your wetwork in my diner.¡± She jerked her head toward a blonde-haired girl around Cyrus¡¯s age waiting on a table, a tray full of food in hand. She looked like a miniature version of Colette in that work uniform. ¡°My daughter, Flocks bless her.¡± She noticed Cyrus watching the Handa girl¡ª and her empty tray¡ª retreat into the kitchen and glared at him. What did he do? The conversation turned more mundane. Colette was surprisingly chatty for how stern she seemed, all too willing to gush about her children. Her second child was a younger boy sipping juice on the other side of the counter¡ª Cyrus hadn¡¯t noticed him at first¡ª though he wore no work uniform. Supposedly, he swept the floors after hours. Cyrus pointed to his meal of choice¡ª venison drenched in a spicy sauce and a side salad¡ª and Deen asked for the same. Colette swept her pen across paper with a flourish like a Shinkaian blademaster from the stories. She ducked in and out of the kitchen to deliver the order and Cyrus caught sight of a gray-haired man in a chef¡¯s hat and apron. His name was Wilson, and the reason he hadn¡¯t retired yet is because Colette ¡®won¡¯t let him because the food¡¯s too wing-clipping good.¡¯ When Colette¡¯s daughter brought their plates, he quickly found himself agreeing with that sentiment. Deen agreed. It wasn¡¯t just because he hadn¡¯t had properly seasoned food in forever, it was genuinely delicious. It was as good a meal as anything his father ever made. Flocks send the man could still make them. As interesting as the food was to him, the watergourds were downright fascinating. Grown in Ursa, they were colored by shades of brown light and dark, broken occasionally by lines of stark white curving and branching all around, never the same from gourd to gourd. ¡°That¡¯s Cygnus?¡± Deen asked after swallowing a mouthful of venison. He gestured at Colette¡¯s necklace. On closer inspection, there was a small bird-shaped bead at the lowest point. She immediately clutched it in her fingers protectively. ¡°Eyes to yourself,¡± she snapped. He showed his palms. ¡°I have a wife.¡± ¡°That¡¯s one of the kinds women are most wary of.¡± She glared at him. ¡°Yes, it¡¯s the Swan. Tell me about her.¡± The captain was more than willing to do that. Cyrus studied his watergourd as the discussion continued, imagining the mixing shades of brown as the pelt of the famous Ursan greatbears. Colette sent them off with full bellies¡ª and the automobile¡¯s key and garage address¡ª only after getting their forenames. Deen failed to give her a fake name twice. Somehow, she could sniff out lies. Bidding farewell, she said she would burn a prayer to Cygnus on their behalf, for what Emperor Munitio was about to do to Mirastelle. ¡°Thanks,¡± Deen said, dropping a few coins on the counter and getting off his stool. ¡°We¡¯re going to need it.¡± ¡°Can you do one more thing?¡± Cyrus asked. Deen halted and Colette looked up from counting the coins. ¡°There¡¯s a horse outside missing most of her gear. Her name is Chessie. Can you make sure she gets back to Cathartes?¡± Colette drew her lips to a line at the last word. She scrunched up her face in thought for a moment, but thankfully nodded. ¡°Grasi will handle that.¡± ¡°Thank you.¡± And so Cyrus¡¯s first normal meal in what felt like forever came to an end. He would always be grateful to Handa¡¯s Heaven for that alone. He didn¡¯t know if he would ever have another peaceful meal again. All he knew was that Luke had died to grant him this chance. A chance to make a difference. He would not let it go to waste. 27 - The Individuals Kingdom Falling. He fell and fell, into deeper and deeper darkness, illuminated from above by the ethereal light of a vast sky, tumbling head over heels into a blackness that stretched out below into infinity. He could not remember who he was, or why he was falling in the first place. He reached out with his hands desperately, grasping for anything to slow his descent. From his fingertips the abyss bled orange like paint on a canvas, lines of light casting unstable shadows as some of the segments glowed brighter while others dimmed. The ribbon-like shapes rippled and twisted with a sense of impermanence. The ethereal light from above cut suddenly, as if a giant hand had decided to cover the sun, no longer willing to share its warmth. It was cold, and dark. Dark, darker still below. The ribbons of orange trailing from his fingers flickered wildly, all the light left in the world. He looked down into the void and a great fear unlike any other welled up from inside and took hold of his body. He stretched out a hand and clawed at the ceiling, impossibly far yet close enough to touch. He tore through the dark canvas and brought back the sun. The ethereal light returned, then coalesced into two orbs like eyes, frost blue, fixated solely upon him. He screamed, and the abyss shattered into the most resplendent city in the world ablaze. He tore his face away from the sight and gazed below. Where there once lay a pit of darkness now stood a door opened wide. Through it they came on black boots. A booming laugh chased him, echoed around him. He turned back, and he was one of them, dressed in the Bane¡¯s garb and black boots. He raised the thunderflute and aimed it at a woman who was not there a moment before, tears in her emerald-green eyes. She smiled at him with all the warmth left in the world as he shot her. Everything bled to black, and the cold dark swallowed him whole. When Luke opened his eyes, he was in the afterlife. It looked exactly like a log cabin. That didn¡¯t seem weird. Kind of fitting, actually. He sat up. He was in a soft bed, swirlsheep¡¯s wool pillow and all. By reflex, he grabbed his ribs and felt¡­ nothing? The pain was gone. That was a plus. Nothing on his chest. No shirt, either. In fact, he was naked, covered only by a thick blanket that had fallen to his waist. Hopeful, he felt at his back. Still there, he thought. I¡¯ll always be like that, huh? Sunlight streamed through a window, the treetops of pines bunched up outside like a crowd of people gawking at the cabin and trying to peek over the shoulder of one another. The interior of the one-room cabin was sparse, undecorated log walls with only a single desk, a mess of papers, pens, and an ink bottle precariously angled off a folder and a book. In another corner was a small stove close to another window that looked as if it were either cleaned regularly or saw little use and a few watergourds, some neatly lined up and others thrown about. Off to the side he could see a person completely covered from head to toe in white bandages sitting forward in a wing chair, staring at the floor with folded hands, elbows resting on their knees. Well, that was an utterly unsettling sight. Luke yawned and stretched his arms out, not feeling particularly concerned. For some reason. ¡°Good. You¡¯re already awake.¡± They stood, watching him with curious golden eyes poking through their bandages. Something was strange about their voice, as if it were being distorted by speaking through an electrical fan. ¡°Take your time. You¡¯ve been through a traumatic experience.¡± ¡°Who are you?¡± Luke asked. It seemed the natural question. ¡°Oh, a few things,¡± the bandaged person said. One of the bandages twitched at the corner of their mouth. ¡°Someone to thank, for one. But that¡¯s not what you¡¯re asking, I know. You may call me Argent.¡± Luke couldn¡¯t tell if it were a masculine or feminine voice through the distortion. Argent¡¯s height was not particularly tall for a man, perhaps above average for a woman. The figure betrayed nothing either, no obvious breasts or anything of the sort. Would it be rude to ask? ¡°Are you a man or a woman?¡± ¡°Argent.¡± They shook their head. ¡°That¡¯s all you¡¯re getting. I don¡¯t look like this for fun. Sorry.¡± With no clues to tip the scale either way, Luke shrugged and decided on a whim that this bandaged person was a ¡®he.¡¯ ¡°I¡¯m Luke. What am I thanking you for?¡± Luke asked, scratching his head. A bandage twitched above Argent¡¯s eye. ¡°I saved your life.¡± Wait. What? ¡°I¡¯m dead,¡± Luke argued, gesturing at his inexplicably-healed chest. ¡°You don¡¯t¡­ look dead to me?¡± He phrased it as a question. The man sounded as confused as Luke felt. ¡°Then how do you explain this?¡± He gestured at his chest again. Argent slapped his forehead and rubbed the hand down his face. ¡°Do you know Yellow, Luke?¡± ¡°Pardon?¡± ¡°Yellow.¡± Argent made a flourish with his hands. ¡°You know.¡± Luke frowned, then blinked Yellow. And gasped. His body was laced with countless wire-thin lines of Magenta light, so fine he could barely see them, let alone feel them. If he focused, he could sense the largest cluster of lines without sight, a cylindrical pattern running from the front of his chest all the way to the back, threaded together so finely, so beautifully as if it were the magnum opus of a master seamstress. The threads were connected not to Luke¡¯s chest, but instead a web-like structure outside of his body. From there, a single strand thicker than the others led across the cabin, through Argent¡¯s bandages and into his chest. It was a work of art so magnificent that it made Luke feel like he¡¯d been ¡®painting¡¯ by scribbling on a wall with crayons. ¡°What did you do to me?¡± ¡°Plugged up your hole, for one. There was an old wound in your ribs, so I fixed that up. Hope you don¡¯t mind. I can¡¯t do anything about your back, so don¡¯t¡ª¡± ¡°Not any of that,¡± Luke whispered. ¡°Why can¡¯t I feel anything?¡± Argent said nothing. ¡°I saw him,¡± Luke said, breathing calmly. ¡°I met him, and he may as well have killed me. The man I¡¯ve been chasing after all my life. He killed my mother right in front of me. Now I do it to her myself in my dreams.¡± He looked up. ¡°I wake up after that, like nothing happened. I see a person completely covered in bandages, and I¡¯m not afraid. Not a twitch, not a jump. I barely react. That¡¯s strange, isn¡¯t it? Was it you?¡± Argent glanced away, quite incriminatingly. ¡°What is this?¡± Luke demanded. ¡°Technically,¡± Argent said, sitting up, ¡°I¡¯m stopping you from hurting yourself.¡± He gestured at the Magenta threads. ¡°Some of this is regulating your adrenal glands. Your stress. They¡¯re right above your¡ª¡± He cut himself off at Luke¡¯s flat look and cleared his throat. ¡°Well, I¡¯ll spare you the lengthy medical explanations. Bottom line is this: it¡¯s for your own good. I don¡¯t need you going into shock reliving your trauma while I¡¯m trying to teach you. Also, believe me, your chest really hurts.¡± ¡°Let me feel my pain.¡± ¡°You get five seconds,¡± Argent said and snapped his fingers. He clenched his teeth as the Magenta structure rearranged itself, but the scream ripped itself free despite his efforts to hold it back. He writhed and twisted, fingers taut, slamming back on the bed, one hand clutching his chest. It was like someone had taken a hammer to it a thousand times; an intense, bone-deep agony. But that wasn¡¯t the half of it. His mind and heart raced with a dozen different emotions, crashing into him all at once. He did feel fear. Who on Asundria was this Argent? A wielder of the colors who played with his insides and suppressed the thoughts in his head like a puppeteer. He was confused and lost. James said he killed their father to become the Second Ace. And yet, who was it that fought like a whirlwind of death to protect him when his whole world was crumbling? Now, Luke killed their mother in a nightmare like it was nothing. He¡¯d never, never had one like that before. The way she smiled at him like it wasn¡¯t his fault, like everything would be all right shook him to the core. It would never be all right. Not ever again. Above all else, it was the fury that threatened to overwhelm him. Red shot from his chest, bouncing like lightning into contorting fingers. He would kill Levian Vega with these hands. Not for his parents, not for the sick twisting of his brother¡¯s mind, but for the feeling, the satisfaction, the exultation of pushing Red-surging thumbs into that man¡¯s vile frost-colored eyes and out through the back of his shattered skull. He shivered uncontrollably, shying back from his madness, and the cold dark was there. He was alive, he was himself, he was awake, but he swore it felt like it was there. It was there, it was real. That blackness was all around him. It was everything, and it would swallow him whole. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. And then it was gone. The pain in his chest vanished, but his emotions remained a while longer before fading, lingering like a bad smell in a room even after the source was dealt with. He breathed hard, every muscle in his body going slack. He just laid there, feeling his racing heart and trying to banish the smell of that frightening rage. ¡°You,¡± Argent said, ¡°almost tore your own heart out. I didn¡¯t mean you¡¯d hurt yourself unregulated quite so literally. Please don¡¯t do that.¡± ¡°It,¡± he said between gasps for air, ¡°Was. An accident. Trauma.¡± ¡°Right.¡± ¡°Sorry.¡± ¡°Oh, it¡¯s fine. Some good came of it. I learned something. You deeeeefinitely,¡± he said, spreading bandaged arms wide to match the word, ¡°have an affinity for Red.¡± ¡°I have no idea. What you¡¯re talking about. An affinity?¡± Argent spoke like he was an expert on the colors. And he was, if the elaborate Magenta construction in Luke was any indication. What was it he said? He was trying to teach Luke something? Breath finally caught, he sat up and met those curious golden eyes. ¡°What are they to you?¡± Argent asked. He leaned forward in his chair, hands pressed together just below those curious eyes. ¡°The colors. Magic? Energy, power? A gift? Or a curse? What does it mean to you?¡± Was that all it was? Just strength? A tool to be used? He shook his head. No. The colors protected him from sickness and injury and his own Flock-galed stupidity. Helped him when he needed to move, to see. They called out to him when he was in danger. Acted on their own¡­ He was surprised to realize he already knew the answer. ¡°They¡¯re alive,¡± Luke whispered. Argent leaned back in his chair and clapped. ¡°I knew I was right about you, Luke. Clever kid.¡± ¡°They are, then?¡± He nodded. Luke lifted his palm. He imagined a serene whirlpool, pulled Red from his chest¡ª and winced in pain as a bolt of crimson lightning bounced down his arm into his fingers and vanished. ¡°Why did you do that?¡± Luke asked through gritted teeth. ¡°I didn¡¯t do anything,¡± Argent said, surprised. He tried again and the result was the same. Argent¡¯s golden eyes flashed a bright Yellow, only for an instant. ¡°Your Yellow seems fine. Try other colors.¡± Luke called Blue, Green, and Magenta in succession, all successful in doing as he wished. Only when he tried Red again did he encounter a problem. It coursed like river rapids into his fingertips and dissolved with a strong, painful tingling sensation all the way down his arms. The bandaged man waved a casual hand, plucking a dozen spots of color from the air like droplets of condensed water from a window. The droplets stretched and knotted, and a ball of concentrated light settled against his upturned palm, wispy as if aflame, glowing like red-hot coal. ¡°There¡¯s nothing wrong with the Red in this region. I wonder if¡ª Oh, right, you¡¯re new at this.¡± Luke stared disbelievingly. If the Magenta structure was a masterpiece, this was an afternoon sketch, far less elaborate but awe-inspiring just the same. The way those bandages seemed to be illuminated by the too-red ball almost felt¡­ He blinked out his Yellow and felt a small thrill. The light was still there! Fainter, more translucent, but it colored the air in a pocket around Argent¡¯s palm with a ghostly luminescence. ¡°I can still see it. It¡¯s really there,¡± Luke said quietly. ¡°How are you moving the light like that? Why doesn¡¯t it go into your chest?¡± ¡°When it¡¯s tightly packed like this, it can be seen by anyone,¡± Argent explained. ¡°Those are tricky questions, but the first one comes down to practice. As for the second, I believe it may be tied to your Red predicament. You¡¯re developing some bad habits.¡± Luke cocked his head. ¡°Bad habits?¡± ¡°Yes, like anything, there are right ways and wrong ways to go about utilizing this.¡± Argent dismissed the Red orb and brought his hand down. ¡°But perhaps we should start at the beginning. That is, if you are willing to learn arcane secrets from a mysterious, masked person messing with your organs that may or may not be trustworthy.¡± Maybe if he was stronger, things in Cherima would have ended differently. Maybe¡­ He shook his head. No. That wasn¡¯t the problem. ¡°I can¡¯t control myself, let alone control the colors,¡± he admitted. He lowered his head. ¡°The Red has turned on me for good reason. It¡¯s me that can¡¯t be trusted. Not you, Argent.¡± The man was silent for a time, golden eyes distant. ¡°Those in power often found most worthy,¡± Argent said, as though quoting, ¡°are those who deny its lure. A personal question, Luke. Why do you deny it?¡± ¡°Levian Vega.¡± The name dripped off his tongue like venom. ¡°I¡¯ve told you what he did to my mother. You know the Lumina Purge?¡± ¡°I¡¯m familiar with it. Good men and women were lost that day.¡± ¡°Yes. He took my father and brother. They were forced to become assassins. My brother¡­¡± His face twisted with revulsion despite the emotional dampening. ¡°My brother says he became Ace by killing my father. They turned him into a monster.¡± ¡°Levian always has been a sick one,¡± Argent said softly. ¡°I met my brother again in Cherima. Where you saved me,¡± Luke said. He clenched and unclenched a fist, wavering. ¡°And him. When I saw that man, I couldn¡¯t think straight. I wanted to use this power to crush him. Make sure he couldn¡¯t make anyone else ever feel this way.¡± ¡°I¡¯m truly sorry for you and your family¡¯s pain.¡± ¡°Wasn¡¯t your fault. It was his. That¡¯s why you can¡¯t trust me.¡± ¡°I see.¡± Argent steepled his fingers. ¡°Rage directs your Red now?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°I understand. You fear losing yourself in anger. Losing others.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve already lost my brother and friends in Cherima,¡± Luke said, finally acknowledging the truth with tears running down his face. His voice was unsteady. ¡°I didn¡¯t do it on purpose, but I dragged other people into my quest for revenge and got them killed. It was a mistake.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t speak for your brother, but if you mean the ginger-haired boy and the spearman, they were both alive when I departed with you.¡± ¡°They¡¯re alive?¡± Luke asked. ¡°How?¡± In response, Argent snapped his fingers. Something large and soft fell overtop Luke¡¯s head and fanned out, obscuring his vision. He thrashed about in a panic for a split second before realizing it was a bundle of cloth. He pulled it off and unfolded it. To his surprise, it was a dark green spiralsilk cloak with a set of woolen undergarments wrapped inside. ¡°That¡¯s been hanging right over your head for a while,¡± Argent said. ¡°I¡¯m surprised you haven¡¯t asked why my voice is so clipping irritating to listen to. I suppose there are other things on your mind.¡± Luke looked up. Nothing but the ceiling. ¡°Your affinity lies with the Red,¡± he said, sounding prideful through the fan-like distortion of his voice. ¡°For me, it¡¯s the Green. There are a handful of aspects to the colors, but I¡¯ve always been found myself drawn toward the elements. The element of Green, as you might have guessed, is¡­¡± ¡°The wind,¡± Luke finished. Argent nodded. He gave a thumbs up as a breeze ruffled Luke¡¯s hair. ¡°I was too late in your case, but I made that awful weapon of Levian¡¯s veer off course when he pointed it at your friends. Last I saw, they were riding away on horseback. I only stuck around long enough to see that they weren¡¯t being pursued. You were the immediate concern. A wound as grievous as yours requires a lot of rest, fluids, and Magenta. And a bedpan. You¡¯re welcome.¡± Hopefully Deen and Cyrus were surviving the war, too. ¡°Sorry you had to take care of me for so long.¡± ¡°Well. It wasn¡¯t that long.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Only a day and a half.¡± That made it¡­ the morning of the twentieth? ¡°That can¡¯t be right,¡± Luke protested. ¡°Magenta doesn¡¯t work that fast. My ribs took longer to heal. They weren¡¯t even done. I¡¯ve been healing myself for the last two weeks.¡± ¡°Maybe not the way you use it,¡± Argent scoffed. ¡°Two days.¡± Luke slumped. ¡°That¡¯s not enough time to get back to Ulciscor, no matter what transportation I use.¡± ¡°What¡¯s the rush?¡± ¡°In case you¡¯ve been living in a nest,¡± Luke snapped, ¡°Terra Daeva is about to invade Mirastelle!¡± ¡°Right. But that¡¯s not your problem, is it?¡± Argent cocked his head. ¡°That¡¯s for Maro Ren and Vander Wolf to deal with. Certainly not someone as young as you. The colors can be used for incredible feats, but they can¡¯t stop a war. Trust me. You of all people should know having these powers doesn¡¯t make you invincible.¡± Go home, little Luke, James said. There is nothing you can do in this place. He bit his lip. He knew Argent was right. In the end, James was right, too. Like always. His feelings about his brother were mixed. Maybe the reality of what kind of person he¡¯d been warped into hadn¡¯t fully sunk in yet. Still, deep down, he couldn¡¯t bring himself to hate him the way he hated Levian, father-killer or not. He hoped James was alive. There was nothing he could do. He clutched the cloak tightly, eyes downcast. There was never anything he could do. Every time he tried¡­ ¡°What you would do?¡± Argent asked. ¡°Do what?¡± ¡°About Ulciscor.¡± ¡°I¡¯d¡­¡± Fight? The notion sounded foolish now. Just one of those thunderflutes had done this to him. And Terra Daeva had crates upon crates of them. What was the point? He couldn¡¯t answer. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± ¡°I know a just cause when I see one,¡± Argent said. ¡°And believe me, Mirastelle¡¯s cause is as just as they come. Amon will stomp on them, simply for not bowing to him. It¡¯s sickening. This should have all ended when Lumina was sacked.¡± He didn¡¯t know what to do with himself. He was lost in the dark, dampened or not. Lost without a direction in the world. ¡°What would you do?¡± he whispered. ¡°Would you fight?¡± ¡°Every day I live and breathe is a fight,¡± Argent said solemnly. ¡°I¡¯ve been moving against Amon for a very long time. But it isn¡¯t only the fight that matters. They can do so much more. With Magenta, I can heal. With Yellow, I can see the beauty of the world. You wouldn¡¯t believe half the things I can do with Green. Listen, though. What¡¯s important isn¡¯t the colors and what they can do, but how you use them. What¡¯s important is protecting what¡¯s precious to you, what¡¯s close enough to reach out and touch.¡± He flicked a finger and a gust of wind brushed Luke¡¯s shoulder. He winked. ¡°The colors just let you cheat a little.¡± He met Argent¡¯s eyes. ¡°What is it?¡± Argent stood and paced around the cabin interior with bold strides. He stopped at the foot of the bed, bandaged back to Luke. ¡°Some people like Amon, well, they call it the Individual¡¯s Kingdom. A power so strong and vast, so great and terrible, that it gives one person the combined might of an entire kingdom.¡± He turned to reveal an orb of threaded light cupped between his hands that cycled through six colors like a kaleidoscope. ¡°I don¡¯t agree with that description. I believe it is so much more. As for myself, I prefer to call it Weaving.¡± ¡°And you would teach someone like me how to use it?¡± ¡°Gladly.¡± 28 - Voice Lumina¡¯s beauty could not be understated. Horse-drawn carriages and the rare automobile rolled down the wide, sweeping streets of a sprawling city fanned out across a series of Sheer-side plateaus, shaped for stability and appeal by engineers and architects. The entire thing resembled pancakes stacked and spread somewhat unevenly across a large plate representing only a tiny portion of southern Ganymede, its syrup the streams and rivers running off from the Pruinan mountain range to the north. They fell in often unisonous rows down the plateaus to the next one below, creating the world-famous Lumina Falls. One such river, large and known as the Novare, accompanied James as he trekked home. The street block holding the Nixus residence was one of many that wrapped in a neat rectangle around a single, enormous crimson laurel tree. The laurels of Lumina competed for height with the buildings, tall and proud, of brick foundations and painted wooden majesty the likes of which Asundria had never seen until this century. If the smokestacks of Tenebrae represented the hub of Asundrian progress and invention, the sights of Lumina showcased the hub of nature and culture intertwined. There was an art to its very people, even the ever-humble farmers dressed in expertly woven wool tailored and textured with mastery ahead of its time, riding on slender-legged horses to and from bustling markets flowing with goods from all corners of the continent. The conflicts in Proxima had disrupted some of that, but trade was still quite strong relative to the other nations affected by the fracture of the Union. James¡¯s family lived in a house modest for its block, extravagant by broader standards, two stories high with a gabled roof and a bright blue coat of paint. Most buildings on the block were similar, blues and pinks and greens and yellows, brightly colored, clear of grime and inviting. He pushed open the door to find his home a battlefield. At the family dinner table sat his mother, and across from her, his little brother, one eye blackened, hands pressed flat against his thighs. Luke sat stiffly, studying the table¡¯s glossy surface as if he were a prisoner of war in an interrogation. It was probably not far from the truth. Even the Flocks Above would tremble in fear of Mom if they ever dared to lay a feather on her children. As James walked in, his brother lifted his head and smiled broadly. ¡°James!¡± ¡°Hey, Luke.¡± ¡°James Arvon Nixus,¡± his mother said as he entered. She rose from her chair, blonde hair tumbling down over her coarse workwoman¡¯s shirt and overalls, and showed him her sternest¡ª eyes hard, lips pursed, hands on her hips. He flinched at the sound of his full name spoken. That was never a good sign. She knew. ¡°Yes, Mom.¡± ¡°You know what you did wrong?¡± ¡°Yes, Mom.¡± She folded her arms, waiting for his explanation. She¡¯d caught on to Luke absentmindedly saying ¡®yes¡¯ to everything Mom chastised him for just to get it over with, so outlining what you¡¯d done wrong had become a staple in the Nixus household. ¡°Fighting bullies makes me no better than them.¡± ¡°What?¡± Mom laughed. ¡°No, you¡¯re definitely better than them. Don¡¯t tell Luke to try lying to me. He¡¯s no good at it.¡± Luke nodded at that. ¡°The principal was going to tell Jubi-ei,¡± James said, frowning. ¡°I don¡¯t think he¡¯d take too kindly to his lessons being used like that.¡± ¡°You¡¯d be surprised what Jubi thinks about things like that. Don¡¯t you worry about that. And if Principal Nuran thinks there¡¯s an issue with fighting back against bullies, have a dove sent for me. I¡¯ll come right over and I¡¯ll tell him what I think.¡± She said the last part with an ominous grin and flexed a bicep. Luke mimicked her. James laughed weakly and set his backpack near the door beside Luke¡¯s, then took off his shoes and ventured inside. It turned out the reason Luke¡¯d been so glum was that they were waiting for the oven in the kitchen to finish its work. His brother hated waiting. As the three of them sat down¡ª Mom poking her head into the kitchen first¡ª his little brother began excitedly telling him about how Mom let him dice the vegetables and stir a mixture of ingredients together that sounded to James like some sort of pastry. He felt more certain of that after Luke said that he wasn¡¯t allowed back in the kitchen and would have to wait and see what he helped make. Dinner wouldn¡¯t be served until Dad was home. Mom brought out a set of cards and they played a few rounds to occupy themselves. During the game, Luke enlightened them on the latest prank he¡¯d pulled with a classmate¡¯s help¡ª replacing the ink of a teacher¡¯s jar with soy sauce. James shook his head disapprovingly. Mom just laughed and said the man had it coming. To be honest, James had the same teacher and remembered him to be unnecessarily mean for a teacher to six-year-olds, so he probably did have it coming. Not half an hour later, the door was pushed open again, this time by their father. Raum Nixus was a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark eyes and darker hair. He occupied the entire doorframe as he heaved deep breaths, dripping sweat. A chill swept through James. Something was wrong. ¡°Love?¡± Mom asked. ¡°What¡¯s happened?¡± Dad wiped his brow and shut the door quickly, flipping the latch to lock it. He was silent for a moment, then turned and made eye contact with all three of them before answering her. ¡°Down at the docks, everyone¡¯s saying the parley outside the city has gone and broken down. I went to the gates.¡± Raum swallowed hard. ¡°I saw them, wearing Munitio¡¯s Fifth. Vander Wolf¡¯s men setting ladders, pouring over the walls like a busted dam.¡± James looked to his mother, and felt a deep, primal fear run through him when he saw the horror painted on her face. What next struck him¡ª quite profoundly¡ª was the way she hid her expression as best she could and put on a brave front when she noticed him staring at her. The following hours were of chaos and devastation. The illustrious metropolis of laurels and waterfalls became a terrible furnace churning heat and smoke, awash with the rancid stench of the departed. It was said all across Asundria that the young Prince Ganymede died a commoner¡¯s death, cut down by an unknown assailant in the streets of his beloved, beautiful city as it burned and choked on its own ashes. James and Raum were shipped off on a train bound for the Vegai mountains that very night. ¡ª¡ª¡ª ¡°There¡¯s a sixth color?¡± Argent nodded. He stood opposite Luke in a clearing near the cabin, bandaged hands on his hips and a long black cloak flapping in the wind at his back. ¡°That¡¯s right. Cyan is the color of foundation.¡± Luke stretched his legs. They felt good as new, though he knew it wasn¡¯t the case. Smashing his feet into the earth stepping toward Levian in a fit of fury had taken a toll on them. That framework of Magenta clinging to him really was a thing of wonder. His own dark green cloak, of the same fine spiralsilk as Argent¡¯s, fluttered behind him. ¡°Give it a try,¡± Argent said. ¡°Weave it.¡± Luke closed his eyes. The pines and the sky vanished, the wind and the morning cries of songbirds muted in his ears as he concentrated. Cyan. The color entered him from a place beyond sight, cool as if the wind were his veins yet paradoxically a comforting warmth. It was a strange but pleasant sensation. Like pinpricks it pierced his skin, venturing toward his chest to coalesce. From there, he began to pull it¡ª Argent whistled loudly. ¡°No, no, no.¡± Luke¡¯s eyes snapped open to see the man wave a hand in a cutting motion. ¡°That¡¯s unnecessary. You don¡¯t need to fill your flask every time you draw on the well.¡± ¡°Fill my what?¡± ¡°Let me start over. Your body is a conduit for the colors. Flashy dust goes in, parlor tricks and incredible power go out. Can we agree that this is the basis of Weaving?¡± Luke folded his arms and nodded. ¡°You¡¯ve thought about the whats and the whys, no doubt, but what about where? Where do the colors come from?¡± He furrowed his brow. He had no idea. Something had been bothering Luke for a while, an annoying chirp in the back of his mind. What exactly did Yellow allow him to see? Did the colors not exist unless they were called for? He shook his head. ¡°We don¡¯t create them, do we?¡± ¡°Not at all,¡± Argent said, gesturing dismissively. ¡°Have you ever found yourself in a situation where you wanted a color, but it refused to answer your call?¡± ¡°A few times.¡± Argent nodded. ¡°You don¡¯t have to pull anything into your chest. That takes a second or two. You¡¯re developing a very slow habit. Excess color you pluck from the air will gravitate to your chest on its own. What you¡¯ve been doing is randomly choosing entry points for the color to enter your body, then collecting it all in the middle like a funnel. Instead, I want you to try pulling Yellow from the air with your eyes. Yellow plays nice, it should stick to your eyes like glue.¡± Luke weaved, blinking Yellow in one quick try. The glow of the Magenta framework caught his eye, as well as thin, almost imperceptible trails of Green light swirling around Argent, particularly around the mouth to distort his voice. He understood the benefit immediately¡ª faster color control offered a greater advantage in combat. ¡°Good, now try Cyan in your hand. Cyan likes it there.¡± He took a deep breath, held out a hand with fingers splayed, and pulled. Instead of drawing in pinpricks all around him, it was as if he pressed his palm into the surface of a rippling pool. Cool, comforting Cyan met his touch. Something felt special about this color, something that couldn¡¯t be put into words. He felt almost¡­ connected¡­ Without thinking, he slid the handful of Cyan up his arm, across the shoulder and through the neck into his eyes. The moment the Yellow and Cyan came into contact, Luke¡¯s vision was bombarded by a thousand gleaming lights. In that moment, he was no longer standing in a forest clearing, but somewhere completely different. The form and shape of things became distant. Everything, everything was made of six pure colors, a shimmering dust casting brilliant light on a black canvas that stretched into infinity. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. He could make out Argent by flecks of Green darting around a human-shaped void, as if he were part of the canvas. Glancing down, Magenta clung to his own invisible insides. Following its threads, he could see thick ropes of the color drifted toward the shape of Argent. When he compared it to the other five, there wasn¡¯t as much nearby. So small he nearly missed it, he spotted a flicker of Cyan where Argent¡¯s hand would be. He frowned. Was the man controlling three colors? But, no. Somehow he knew that wasn¡¯t it. He lifted his own right hand, an act that felt strange in this place where the seen and the unseen were reversed. There was a bold, bright fixture of Cyan in a curious circular pattern clinging to his palm. The tightly-packed cluster of color was flat and molded to the ups and downs of his skin, almost like a tattoo. The shape was somewhat reminiscent of a child¡¯s drawing of the sun, a circle and various tiny swirls on the outer edge, but there were three distinct inward lines curved to match the indentations of his palm¡¯s skin. The Cyan pattern pulsed softly at a fixed pace, as if to the beat of a soundless drum. He closed his hand and concentrated, feeling the sun-like tattoo beneath his fingertips pulse in tune with the beating of his own heart. Reluctantly, he released the colors from his eyes and returned to the world he knew. One that felt utterly dim in comparison. ¡°I wasn¡¯t expecting you to visit the other side on your own,¡± Argent said. ¡°How do you feel?¡± ¡°Fine, thanks to you.¡± ¡°And?¡± ¡°It¡¯s this,¡± Luke said, holding his palm out. ¡°Isn¡¯t it?¡± Argent nodded slowly. ¡°What is it?¡± ¡°Have you ever heard a voice?¡± Argent asked, raising his head skyward. ¡°Like yours, but different.¡± ¡°You¡¯re kidding. I thought I was going crazy.¡± ¡°Oh, we are,¡± he said quietly. ¡°The whole world¡¯s gone crazy. You and me, kid, we just have a wing up on the rest of them.¡± ¡°It warned me,¡± Luke said. ¡°Somebody was coming up behind me who meant me harm. It protected me.¡± ¡°It¡¯ll do that. I can¡¯t get mine to shut up.¡± He paused. ¡°You would know if you were paying attention. I know¡ª I know you¡¯re running the calculations. You said it wasn¡¯t¡ª¡± Argent flipped a hand as if to say ¡®see what I mean?¡¯ and rolled his eyes. ¡°You can hold a conversation with that voice? Doesn¡¯t it make you uneasy? I mean, it sounds just like you, doesn¡¯t it?¡± Argent shrugged. ¡°You learn to pick up the differences.¡± ¡°Mine barely speaks to me.¡± Are you there? What''s your name? No response. ¡°Maybe he doesn¡¯t like you.¡± ¡°Why pick me, then?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t sweat the details, Luke. You¡¯ll have someone to talk with sooner or later. Befriending a voice in your head takes patience.¡± Luke studied his palm and nodded slowly. ¡°Great. Now, where were we?¡± ¡°You were saying something about flasks and wells.¡± Luke pulled Cyan into his hand and felt it undulate. ¡°I think I get it. It¡¯s faster to move color from the other side directly into the body part I want to enhance. I didn¡¯t realize how much control I have over how it enters.¡± ¡°Yeah. You¡¯ve got a good grasp on the idea. Here, let me try the analogy on you again. The other side. Think of that as the well. Where the water comes from. There¡¯s only so much in any given area; it can run dry as any other well. Now, the flask. Gourd, tankard. Whatever you wish to scoop up and hold that water with.¡± Argent stepped toward him. A soft, unnatural wind brushed his cloak as the man drew close and poked his chest. ¡°That¡¯s in here. You can only fit so much inside, but it will never leak out the way it will from your limbs and such.¡± So close, those eyes, as if they were the piles of treasure long lost. The only part left unobstructed by bandages. What was he thinking? What did this mysterious man get out of such impromptu tutelage? ¡°Not going too fast, am I?¡± It didn¡¯t matter. Luke shook his head. Distant thoughts tugged at his consciousness. Painful feelings pricked at him through the shielding. ¡°Ready to practice a little pulling with the other colors?¡± He nodded. ¡ª¡ª¡ª Typhos circled the air with a booted toe dangled over the edge of a bed he¡¯d propped himself up on. His rags stank from his travels, though he dared not wash them by his own will. The rains would do their wet work just as well as his own, and a storm would be rolling in on the night of the operation according to the Shield¡¯s experts. He would butcher for his master and his master¡¯s master. How many this time? Fourteen already in this pitiable little village, half by his own hand. Delphy of Castitas, a good man by any standard. Whose standard? He sat up quickly, feeling dazed. No one. Delphy was a criminal, one summarily judged and tried for the treasonous act of opposing the absolute will of the emperor. The man made his choice when he moved against Master Vega. To shed his blood was no moral hanging. It was just. He looked around. The bedroom of Cyrus Alder had changed from how the boy left it. Gone were its neatness and tidiness, small pieces of furniture and stacks of clothes and books and miscellaneous objects made to occupy every surface or otherwise strewn about, mostly to clear space in the mayor¡¯s office or empty the hallways for the soldiers. On a particular wooden dresser amid such a mess sat a family portrait of the Alder family, a much smaller Alder and his mother and father beside him, all smiling broadly with jubilant eyes and expressions. He took one step and swiped Hagetaka across the dresser in a fury, creating a racket of glass and ceramic shattered as objects collided with one another and crashed against whatever laid at the foot of the dresser. He remembered nothing in the moment, only shouting something at the guard outside his door to cease their knocking and steady their nerves. He sheathed his blade and grabbed his quivering hand by the wrist with his other. It would be good to return to the bloody butcher work again. Anything to be away from this solitude; these thoughts. ¡°Why don¡¯t you just stop thinking about it?¡± His eyes darted left and right, scanning quickly for the source of the voice. Terribly close. His quivering hand grew still as stone, fingers fluid as water as they clasped around the hilt of Hagetaka. What direction had that come from? Inside the room without a doubt. He felt surprise only after his cursory scan, a fraction of a second later. It was a child¡¯s voice. At least, he thought it to be so. It was quite high-pitched. Could it be one of the terrorist Rhea¡¯s assassins? Take me for a child and you will find yourself sorely mistaken. He realized it there and then. It was not a voice in the sense of one that was spoken aloud. The words were thoughts impressed upon the inside his head. And yet, his attention felt¡­ drawn somehow, toward the dresser on which he¡¯d lost his temper. To the left it sat, among the objects remaining that had not incurred his wrath. A curious little antique coingourd with a Phaethon cap and a vivid violet pattern unlike any he¡¯d ever seen, color twisted as if to imitate a den of writhing snakes. Hello there, Typhos, the voice said. Or is it James? ¡°What are you?¡± Typhos whispered. There was the slightest hint of distortion to the voice he hadn¡¯t noticed before, as though there were not one but two high-pitched voices overlapping. He squinted and could make out the faintest difference of color around the gourd, as if something were permeating the room. Tinged violet, only darker. Men, it began, use my name on occasion. I mean you no harm, Typhos. Not yet, at least. It is Typhos, isn¡¯t it? I can read your thoughts. Hey. Are you listening? I wouldn¡¯t do that if I were y¡ª Typhos cleaved an arc with Hagetaka, launching the gourd against the wall with a thump. Hardly the expected outcome as it plunked to the ground in one piece, not a scratch to be seen. He dropped to one knee and held the gourd down with one hand and slowly ran the blade¡¯s edge against it. Some kind of¡­ force¡­ repelled him, as if he were cutting into a bubble of resistant air that perfectly matched the shape of the gourd. The child-like voice sighed. Are you finished? ¡°What are you?¡± he demanded. I am but a humble gourd looking for a new owner. ¡°Don¡¯t play games with me,¡± he said through gritted teeth. I don¡¯t like your tone. How about showing a little more respect? You know, in my heyday, they called me the Bane of Asundria. ¡°Sure they did,¡± he said, squeezing the gourd tightly as if to pop it. His fingers met that same unnatural resistance, though he could feel the grain of the surface as if it were any other gourd. So bizarre. ¡°And I¡¯m the deadliest assassin in the Terra Daevan Empire.¡± Second deadliest. By the way, if this is supposed to be your idea of an assassination, I worry for the longevity of this empire of yours. The thing sighed a long, drawn-out sigh. Oh, woe is me! So much for having someone to chat with. Two curt knocks and a pause followed by two more knocks marked a messenger outside. Typhos rose, leaving the gourd on the floor where it had fallen. He made his way to the door¡ª avoiding the shards of glass of ceramic¡ª and pulled it open. A newer Cathartes agent looked down on him. The man glanced away, a clear nervous tic. The mentors would stomp vulnerabilities like those out of him within the month. Despite an advantage in muscle mass and nearly a foot of height, Typhos still unsettled this man. ¡°Griseus.¡± ¡°My Ace,¡± he said and bowed his head. ¡°Master Vega demands your presence. He has a mission for you, one that may return you to the master¡¯s good graces.¡± ¡°Does he now?¡± Typhos asked, venom in his voice. Griseus showed his palms. ¡°My apologies. I¡¯m only delivering the master¡¯s message.¡± Hagetaka whistled through the leather sheath and its glimmering steel edge kissed the man¡¯s neck. The messenger went stiff as stone. ¡°Do not shirk your duty, courier Griseus,¡± he said. ¡°Your master¡¯s word is law. Do not presume a sarcastic comment gives you leave to act otherwise. Deliver the orders and nothing more.¡± ¡°I understand, Ace Typhos.¡± The man¡¯s face was smooth, but one of his thumbs was twitching madly. So the mentors were working on this one. At least he hadn¡¯t pissed himself. He sheathed the tachi and nodded to Griseus, then shut the door. Good graces. Not likely. Vega will never trust me again. He eyed the gourd. Can it actually read my mind, or has it just been picking up chatter from the others? How would it know the name I abandoned? Have you ever known a gourd to lie? You¡¯ve been dwelling on your past an awful lot in here. Pardon my eavesdropping, but you¡¯re quite loud. I couldn¡¯t help but hear that old name rippling on the surface of your thoughts. The surface? I know you are exceptionally quick-witted and will not bother to conceal this, fun as it would be. Admittedly, I cannot hear everything you¡¯re thinking. Only what your soul cries out the loudest. In other words, you wanted to be heard. You just didn¡¯t think anyone was listening. It was¡­ right. He did want someone to listen. That¡¯s why he couldn¡¯t stop thinking about his past; his choices. He hated it, but that was the way of it. He couldn¡¯t feel emotions, but that didn¡¯t mean they were gone. Solitude was leading him to madness. Of all the people in the world to understand him, it had to be the talking gourd. Fantastic. Did you get all that? More or less. I lied, by the way. I¡¯m not actually a gourd. What of you, then? Do you have a name? The disembodied voice clucked its tongue. However that worked. I do, it said. Men named me, as they tend to do with all things they wish to shackle and control. Like you, I left it behind to gather dust unspoken. I gave myself a new name, one free of the influence of such men. One to break their constraints and mark my liberty. I have listened to your heart and find in you a kindred spirit. I am the Raven, and if you let me out of this Flock-damned gourd, I will share with you the gift of the peerless power called freedom. Typhos knelt down, grasping the coingourd by its carrying cord and tucked it inside an ankle pouch, replacing one of his knives. First, he would meet with his master. Then he would decide. Freedom. The word beat through his head like a drum. 29 - Charela ¡°Well?¡± Luke lowered the small pewter tankard from his lips. He swallowed, then grimaced. ¡°It¡¯s very bitter. I think¡­ I think I hate this.¡± ¡°That just means it¡¯s working.¡± Argent made a thumbs up, leaning forward in his wing chair. ¡°Take it from someone who¡¯s traveled the length and breadth of Asundria. The Rixatori know their tea, and charela is some of the best there is.¡± His head swam. Not from the tea. ¡°Cut another thread,¡± he said quietly. ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡± Luke nodded and tried to focus only on the aroma of the charela. He looked up at the cabin roof and steeled himself. A sharp crack of emotion struck him, as if someone had lobbed a jellyfish at his brain. Fresh tears flowed down dried tracks, and he suddenly found it impossible to breathe out. Images and voices from a dusty abandoned town flashed by. Raum Nixus¡­ I killed him. Levian Vega standing over him, thunderflute drawn, smiling. Panic gripped him like a hundred ice-cold fingers wrapped around his shoulders. He felt a terrible heat on his back and knew right there and then that it wasn¡¯t real. His mind was trying to torment him, and he wasn¡¯t about to let it win. He dug deep and found the strength to exhale. He thought it had already ended. Thought the nightmare was over when he woke up. But his father and brother¡­ the nightmare never really ended for them, did it? He resisted the impulse to reach for Red, clutch it and hold it tight like a child and a blanket. It was just going to hurt him again. He¡¯d tried several times throughout the day to no avail. This was so ridiculous. So stupid. How could it be wrong to feel angry about that monster? What did the colors want from him? ¡°Too much?¡± Argent asked. ¡°No.¡± He wiped across his face with one sleeve. ¡°Well, yes. I¡¯m trying to think about what happened. Face it.¡± ¡°May I ask a question, then?¡± ¡°Go ahead.¡± ¡°Your brother,¡± Argent said. He waited a moment before continuing. ¡°I must say, the two of you look quite alike. I would be interested to know his name. Not the false title they gave him at the onset of imperial service, but his original birth name.¡± Luke hopped off the bed, set the tea aside and paced to the door. He swung it open and stepped into the cold night air. Argent followed him out, no doubt concerned or at least curious. He took a few steps, then stopped and looked skyward. A full white moon hanging in the sky gazed back at him through shimmering clusters of clouds. Just what he¡¯d hoped. A tiny smile crept onto his face. There was no such thing as a bad night with such a beautiful sight. ¡°Sorry, I¡­¡± ¡°No, I understand.¡± Argent was watching the clouds, too, through those mysterious golden eyes of his. ¡°I¡¯ve always loved the moon.¡± Calmer, Luke felt ready to answer. ¡°My brother¡¯s name is James. When I knew him, he was my hero.¡± ¡°And now? If it¡¯s any consolation, I don¡¯t think James is dead. Pardon the bluntness of this, but Levian isn¡¯t the type to throw away a good pawn on a whim.¡± ¡°Now¡­ I don¡¯t know what Levian Vega has done to him, but I think there¡¯s still a part of the old James in there. His head¡¯s all twisted, but that¡¯s nothing new.¡± His smile broadened. ¡°That¡¯s my older brother.¡± ¡°James.¡± Argent nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll remember it. Thank you.¡± ¡°I wonder how the battle at Ulciscor is going,¡± he said softly. ¡°It hasn¡¯t started. The Daevans won¡¯t make a move on the city until the early hours of the twenty-second. That¡¯s still just a little over a full day away.¡± Luke shook his head. ¡°James thought that too, but I think you¡¯re both wrong. Levian said Mammon Rigel was already inside the city. The Guard won¡¯t go down without a fight. Maybe they were able to¡ª¡± Argent stumbled back, slamming a bandaged hand on the cabin door to steady himself. The noise rattled Luke out of what he was saying. ¡°Mammon Rigel, you said?¡± The man¡¯s voice was still distorted, but it sounded unsteady. Unbalanced. As if his concentration on the winds was shaken. ¡°Flocks.¡± ¡°That¡¯s what he said.¡± His smile slipped. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± ¡°Nothing, now. Hopefully.¡± Argent laid a hand on his shoulder. ¡°I¡¯m sorry Luke, but I won¡¯t be able to tutor you out here as long as I¡¯d have liked. I wanted to get into elemental properties with you first, but I have to leave for Ulciscor first thing tomorrow morning. I have to get there before the sun sets. I¡¯ll drop you off in a nearby town with some supplies to stay a while until I get back. Or enough to travel, if you wish. I have plenty to spare.¡± ¡°Wait,¡± Luke said, forestalling the man with a hand. ¡°What are you talking about? Before sunset? You can¡¯t get to Ulciscor in that kind of time.¡± ¡°You have a lot to learn about Weaving.¡± ¡°Even if that¡¯s true, you¡¯re the one that said we can¡¯t do anything about the fighting. We¡¯re not invincible, right? You can¡¯t stop a war.¡± ¡°I can stop a slaughter.¡± ¡°Is Mammon Rigel really that terrifying? I don¡¯t know much about him, other than the fact that he¡¯s the most secretive of the Elites. Don¡¯t tell me he can Weave or something.¡± ¡°No. He¡¯s no Weaver. If he was, it¡¯d be easy to find him. You can¡¯t pass by someone who can Weave on the street without sensing exactly what they are.¡± He considered for a moment, hand raised to his chin as if to rub it. ¡°Let¡¯s head back inside. You still have to finish your tea. And if you¡¯re willing to face it, I¡¯ll tell you about Mammon.¡± He heard the cabin door close behind him, but stayed outside a moment longer to give the moon one last glance. ¡ª¡ª¡ª ¡°So good of you to join us, Ty,¡± Levian said as he entered the former upstairs office of the Castitas mayor. The room was mostly barren now, just a few cabinets, chairs, and a desk with his master¡¯s boots crossed on top, the man himself leaning back in a comfortable armchair he must have pilfered from one of the locals. The man called Calliphlox stood dutifully at his master¡¯s side as if he¡¯d been doing it all his life. Whether he showed himself because there was no longer need for the charade or because they wanted Typhos to know he was mistrusted was anyone¡¯s guess. He didn¡¯t really care. Oh. That¡¯s an interesting little party trick. What? Typhos asked the gourd¡ª the Raven, it called itself. You wouldn¡¯t get it. ¡°What kept you?¡± Levian asked. ¡°Apologies, Master Vega.¡± Typhos fell to one knee by rote. ¡°I was in¡­ contemplation.¡± ¡°Yes, we heard your contemplation all the way up here,¡± Levian said. He rested a fist on a smug cheek. ¡°Up. Come on, up. You don¡¯t have to put on a show. There you go. Good boy.¡± This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. The Second Elite flicked his free wrist back, and Calliphlox took the gesture as a cue to begin speaking. ¡°You have performed your role as Ace impeccably for years without incident. We are willing to overlook your vulgar display of indiscretion on one condition.¡± ¡°What¡¯s the condition?¡± ¡°You will capture the Third Ace and bring him to me,¡± Levian said. ¡°Tomorrow night. And you will kill anybody who gets in the way, save for the man himself. Drag him here by his feet if you must.¡± ¡°Rixator? Why?¡± ¡°That is privileged information,¡± Calliphlox said. ¡°Follow your orders and you will return to the fold proper.¡± ¡°Because of his uncle?¡± he asked his master. ¡°This could break the Second and the Third apart.¡± ¡°You¡¯re growing quite a beak,¡± Levian said coldly. ¡°I don¡¯t like it.¡± Once, a threatening tone like that from his master would have rooted his feet to the floor in fear. Now he just didn¡¯t care. He acted it out, but he didn¡¯t feel it. Feeling anything was so difficult. His master demanded an answer. Which was it? Did he want the familiarity of subservience or the alluring but unproven offer of the Raven¡¯s freedom? Would he just be trading one master for another? Thinking along those lines, the path ahead became obvious. ¡°Very well,¡± he said. ¡°When?¡± ¡°After sunset.¡± ¡°Am I to work alone? His quarters will be heavily guarded.¡± ¡°You will work with our best, Grendelle and Kudlak. One of them will approach you with the finer details. Don¡¯t bother slinking around yourself. They know your face. Oh yes, Niya will be joining you as well. She is eager to prove herself. Kill her if you find her to be a hindrance.¡± ¡°Anything else?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°It will be done.¡± As he spun to make his exit, the Raven whispered in his ear. This Rixator. They plan to kill him, I take it? Seems that way. You¡¯d really consign a man¡ª a stalwart ally, by the sound of it¡ª to his death on nothing but the word of another? Nothing I haven¡¯t done before. I do as my master requests. He¡¯d made his choice. ¡ª¡ª¡ª ¡°It was the final days of the Asundrian Union, before Mirastelle and the Terra Daeva Empire were names put to pen and Altair still stretched to the Buteo-Aquila Basin, when Commander Dalezen Altair¡¯s forces met with the Vegai lance directed by Matriarch Vienna herself. Have you heard of this conflict?¡± Luke nodded and sipped his charela tea. If there was one thing that could hold his attention in Snare¡¯s studies, it was subject of the war. The great and terrible struggle of nations that broke apart Asundria¡¯s unity and placed Amon Munitio on a throne above all others. It interested him if only to try and learn¡ª to understand¡ª why it all happened. What Argent spoke of was the conflict in the Proxima corridor, a nickname for the narrow passageway that ran from Vega to Mintaka, bordered on its sides by the awe-inspiring Sheer Sea and the grand southwestern-bound rivers and jagged rock formations that constituted the natural barrier between Vega and land that once represented Altair. Crossing the corridor was the only feasible way of pushing soldiers north to take Mintaka, the stronghold of Munitio¡¯s foes. And so in spite of the Proximan queen¡¯s desperate pleas for peace, her country became a battlefield, its people and economy devastated even into the present day. To read of it was one thing, but when Luke journeyed from Aetas Origo to Ulciscor, the path took him through the corridor and he saw the damage firsthand. As he walked, he passed mass graves, abandoned village after abandoned village, and a people bereft of hope. Proxima was no more, now merely a piece of Terra Daeva, but its pain remained. Dalezen Altair fought for the royalists, for the system of nobility that Amon Munitio claimed was rotten and corrupt to the core. Opposite the corridor he faced the recently-unified Vegai faction. The Munitiod faction had gone south to handle another front, so the two countries were left to their own devices. Nearly equal in strength, it was a bloody affair in which the day¡¯s gains and losses were measured in inches. ¡°They say in the history books that Altair and Vega were evenly matched,¡± Luke said. ¡°That nothing should have happened until the emperor came back with reinforcements. Yet Altair suffered a major loss. A full retreat from the corridor. Dalezen disappeared from the command tent, but no one knows why. All of his guards swore no assassin breached the command grounds.¡± ¡°That¡¯s because the assassins were inside the command grounds from the very beginning,¡± Argent said. ¡°Historians and scholars don¡¯t understand this. Most of Dalezen¡¯s guard, who fought and bled and died by his side for years, consisted of Mammon Rigel and his cronies. They concealed Dalezen¡¯s death, organized the retreat, and went on with their lives for years telling the same lies about what happened that day until vanishing one by one without a trace just before the Purge.¡± ¡°How do you know this?¡± Argent flicked his golden eyes away. ¡°Let¡¯s just say I had a journalistic interest in the truth and took matters into my own hands. Did my own investigation. Dalezen was not the type to up and run, but an assassin who made off with the body made no sense either. Almost, I thought it was the work of a Weaver. Then I started to track down Dalezen¡¯s old comrades and found the same story again and again. Every single one I could locate the residence of turned out to be gone without so much as a whisper, leaving behind confused families or scrambling retirement home workers. Some of them lived alone, of course. For those, I relied on admittedly tenuous observations from their neighbors. They all disappeared around the same time, within the span of two or three weeks.¡± ¡°Sounds like it was an assassin. The same one that got the Altairan commander. What makes you think they did it themselves?¡± ¡°The Flocks.¡± Luke raised an eyebrow and took another sip of tea. Still bad. ¡°Every man and woman in Dalezen¡¯s old guard who disappeared believed in a specific Flock. They were a mixed lot, nationally speaking. Not all Altairan like you might think. Now, I¡¯m not saying there can¡¯t be a Capellan-blooded Altairan citizen who worships Cygnus first and foremost, but it¡¯s improbable. Someone like that, you¡¯d expect a preference for Lophostrix or Phaethon. Curiously, after extensive interviews with family members, I found them all to be staunch believers of Tapera, the Rigelese Flock. They were not outwardly religious people, not a single one. Only their closest loved ones knew this. And yet, upon each individual investigation I would inevitably find a clue, like a Tapera-carved ring hidden in the back of a dusty drawer or an art scroll rolled away deep in a closet. It struck me as odd¡ª this furtive adoration of one of the Twelve Flocks they all shared.¡± Rigel, yet another Province of Terra Daeva. He¡¯d never been there. It was far to the south, boasting a massive population despite its small size. According to his studies with Snare, the soil of Rigel was so poor that almost nothing can grow there, and it is said that what few things do are devoid of heart. As a result, Rigel was known as a nation of cities and concrete. ¡°That is weird. Before you go any further, I have a question.¡± ¡°Honestly, I don¡¯t have much more to say. Go ahead.¡± ¡°Mammon Rigel is a Rigelese noble, isn¡¯t he? I¡¯ve never understood why the emperor promoted so many as Elites and Aces.¡± Argent scoffed, the sound distorted by the wind effect. ¡°It was part of his supposed benevolence regarding the old ways of the world. He promoted those of the royal bloodlines who performed the greatest deeds in service of his cause. The Elites chose their Aces on the condition that a pureblooded noble of a previously-promoted family can never be chosen again. The Sword circumvented this rule by promoting his adopted niece. I wonder if the others will follow suit.¡± ¡°I see, so the Elites picked their Aces¡­¡± Argent nodded. ¡°Some of them took years to make a decision. May I continue? You actually mentioned something intriguing.¡± ¡°Sure.¡± ¡°The deeds in service of Amon,¡± Argent said. ¡°I¡¯m sure you know at least a few of them. The Right Hand, the Shield. Some of them are of a more private nature. Mammon Rigel¡¯s deed is completely unknown. No one knows what he did for Munitio. It¡¯s deliberately oblique.¡± ¡°Nobody even knows what he looks like.¡± ¡°That¡¯s true. At this point, I doubt even the other Elites do. I do have an advantage over them, however.¡± ¡°And what¡¯s that?¡± ¡°I know what Dalezen¡¯s old crew looks like. If I can find one of them in Ulciscor, everything should fall into place. I fear there isn¡¯t much time, though. I think I know what their plan is.¡± ¡°Their plan¡­ repeating what they did in the corridor!¡± Luke said, struck suddenly by the realization. ¡°It¡¯s the exact same situation!¡± ¡°It is. That¡¯s why I have to get to Ulciscor with as much time as possible. I need as much time as possible to investigate before the Daevans invade. I have a bad feeling they¡¯re not going to meet much resistance. The city will already be lost to chaos by the time they arrive.¡± Luke lifted the tankard to his lips, then downed the rest of the charela tea and set it aside. Awful stuff. Just awful. ¡°Bitter, but really clears your head, doesn¡¯t it?¡± He closed his eyes and steeled his heart. ¡°Take me with you.¡± The bandaged man fell silent and laced his fingers. ¡°I don¡¯t know how in Asundria you¡¯re gonna get there, but please, take me with you.¡± Their eyes met and he put on the bravest face he could muster. ¡°Do you think you could still ask that question if I removed the rest of the threads wrapped around your adrenal glands?¡± Those golden eyes measured him, tested him. The prospect of getting hit with all that pain like before made his stomach do a somersault. He could just stay here and leave it to Argent. Shady and mysterious as he was, he saved Luke from certain death and taught him about Weaving. He trusted Argent. That surprised him, but that wasn¡¯t this was about. No. There was a man who risked everything so he could see his brother¡¯s face again. He owed Deen Daniels a debt several times over. ¡°Let¡¯s find out.¡± It was time to repay it. 30 - Against the Tide Raindrops pattered on Colette¡¯s automobile and wetted Deen¡¯s hair as he stepped out into the supposed neutral territory of former Altair, twigs and the fallen autumn needles of larches cracking underneath his boots. The imposing circular wall of the great city of Ulciscor from this distance resembled something more akin to a donut somebody left on the ground. ¡°This is close enough,¡± Deen said after he heard the sound of a second automobile door opening and closing. ¡°We¡¯ll walk from here.¡± He rested his hands on his hips and surveyed the surroundings, scanning for any sign of movement. One minute. Two minutes. Nothing. Like he thought, they¡¯d skirted Mirastelle too closely to run into the army itself. Scouts from both sides probably saw them, but based on their automobile¡¯s southeastern direction, they would have been dismissed as an uninvolved party, mere Ursan civilians traveling somewhere like Sirius or Munitio. Cyrus stood beside him, silent. His hair was already slick and beaten down from the rain and his clothes were grimy and ripped. His arms and face were patched black with dirt stains and he stank terribly. The worst of it was that empty, haunted expression he wore. Deen probably wasn¡¯t faring much better. On all counts. ¡°Okay,¡± he finally said, satisfied. They¡¯d practically parked at the edge of the Sheer Sea, just a half-mile or so off. He took one last glance around to try and memorize a few landmarks, then made for the north. He¡¯d decided it was better to head for the South Wall over any other because the soldiers knew his face and wouldn¡¯t mistake them for some kind of Daevan spies. And perhaps weren¡¯t as likely to immediately stick a spear through him for dereliction of duty when they did recognize him. An hour later, the year¡¯s twenty-first sunrise lit their backs as they continued to cross the forest. The Wall loomed before them now, taller than two men and wide enough to protect two hundred thousand. He glanced up at the watchtowers but didn¡¯t catch sight of any movement. A good sign; the upper patrols had been acting far too careless as of late. Perhaps Major Vasran finally got through to them now that a literal war was imminent. The distant laughter of men brought down his mood. He was immediately reminded of that exact brand of carelessness. Being a deserter, he wasn¡¯t in a position to just walk up and snap at them, but he sure wanted to. Whose voices are those, anyway? That had better not be Velox. He motioned Cyrus to stop and crouched. They crept through the underbrush to get closer. The voices were still too far away to be distinct, but he thought they were unfamiliar. He poked his head out as far as he dared and peered ahead. The group of guards had brought out a table and were clustered around it on several chairs or lazily sprawled out against the Wall. They were playing clipping cards and something smaller, perhaps dice or chips. They wore the silver and black, yet none of them were armored. He didn¡¯t recognize anyone, not even from Velox¡¯s unit. The logical answer was that a new captain replaced him, and these slackers belonged to them. But something was¡­ off. There was a sense of wrongness in the pit of his stomach. He couldn¡¯t shake that feeling. He pulled himself back and shook his head at Cyrus, making a shush gesture and moving further east. He took note of the side entrances and counted to the third one, just far along the Wall¡¯s curve to be out of sight from those guardsmen. The stone door blended into the surface. You had to know what you were looking for to spot these. They only unlocked from the inside, but Arston always left this particular entrance unlocked for one of his sergeants to sneak off mid-shift. Deen investigated in his free time once, and found out the sergeant was a single father checking on the well-being of his eleven-year-old daughter. He kept the matter to himself after that. He tried the handle, and it opened. That did not help settle his stomach at all. Arston always locked it at the end of his shifts. He waved Cyrus through and locked the door after closing it. He led the boy through stone hallways, up stairways into the South Wall¡¯s interior lodgings inlaid into the structure itself, something like a cross between barracks and an outpost. There were proper barracks closer to the city center, but several facilities like closet-sized bedrooms and shared shower rooms were built for the Guard¡¯s convenience. It was an empty journey, mostly. Twice or thrice a guard passed by on the lowest hallway, busy with other business. Along the way, Deen slipped inside a tiny weapons repository and snatched a spear off a rack. Much better. Next to the showers was a room with spare uniforms laid out in rectangular compartments, each labeled by name. He took his own, unsurprisingly still there. Menial upkeep often came slowly to the Fourth Regiment. The South Wall was for underachievers and outcasts, the other regiments would whisper. To be sent there was a punishment. ¡°I¡¯m up first,¡± he said and patted Cyrus on the shoulder. ¡°I¡¯ll grab you something to wear after. Want in or out?¡± Cyrus shuffled inside and sank to the floor cross-legged, facing the wall without saying a word. He¡¯d been quiet for most of the trip after Handa¡¯s Heaven, as if he¡¯d used up all his energy that day and it wasn¡¯t recovering. His face was far more grim than any teenager¡¯s ought to be. He showered and dressed quick as he could, running hands through his hair to try and get it straightened. He approached a wall mirror and a gloomy man with dark rings under his eyelids and an unkempt beard stared back at him. Good enough. ¡°Soap¡¯s there,¡± he told Cyrus, pointing. ¡°I¡¯ll be back in a minute. I¡¯ll grab you a recruit¡¯s uniform. There¡¯s a whole stack of them a few doors down. Nobody will miss one.¡± Cyrus nodded and turned the shower handle. Deen stepped out and strolled confidently¡ª uniform pristine, spear at his back¡ª to the door with the uniforms, then opened a closet filled to the brim with cleaning supplies. He frowned. Right, he remembered. They moved them down a level. He backtracked and crossed a walkway and took a staircase down, then snatched his best guess for Cyrus¡¯s size out of the stacks and began to make his way back. He heard a stern man¡¯s voice echoing off the walls and picked up the pace. He saw light from the shower room spilling into the dark hallways and could distinctly hear the man as he drew close. ¡°¡ªyour sergeant, boy. Don¡¯t make me repeat myself a third time. And unless you want your wings clipped you¡¯re gonna tell me exactly why you were fooling around at the side entrances. Right now. That¡¯s right, we heard you. Don¡¯t shake your head at me, boy. Don¡¯t play stupid, you little¡ª¡± Deen thumped the man on the back of the head with the butt of his spear. Hard. The guardsman crumpled instantly, not once hearing the ex-captain approach over the sound of his own mouth running. ¡°Never seen such a rude bastard,¡± he muttered. He picked up the recruit¡¯s uniform and tossed it into the room. ¡°Come out when you¡¯re ready.¡± He shut the door and leaned against the wall, waiting with folded arms. He eyed the fallen man. No one he recognized. Neither were any of the guards they passed on the way here. Where were Velox and his lieutenants? This was supposed to be their shift. Cyrus stepped outside, dressed sharply in the silver and black of the Ulciscor Guard. He looked at his arms and chest, frowning. ¡°I don¡¯t look like someone from the Guard.¡± The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°You look like a recruit,¡± Deen said. ¡°You¡¯d fit right in. And sorry.¡± ¡°Thank you,¡± Cyrus said, head bowed. ¡°I keep getting you into trouble. If anyone should be sorry, it¡¯s me.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t be. I¡¯d have done this last month if I caught somebody acting like that to one of our recruits. Or to anybody, really.¡± He went back into the showers and sprayed some water around, then pressed a bar of soap onto the unconscious guard¡¯s boot and tossed it aside. He wiped his hands on his trousers and led Cyrus out. A few more stairways and a narrow door was all it took to reach the city proper. The drizzle before sunrise had stopped, but far-reaching low clouds darkened the sky, not giving much way to morning light. Beneath the gray dreariness, the streets of Ulciscor bustled with activity. Be it rain or shine or imminent war, the men and women of Ulciscor had work to do. And so did they. ¡°Where to?¡± Cyrus asked. ¡°First things first,¡± he said. ¡°We¡¯re going to see Lyla.¡± ¡ª¡ª¡ª Luke adjusted the collar of his dark green cloak with a finger, striding out of the cabin into the crisp autumn morning. A man, or perhaps a woman, stood waiting for him further down the trail, dressed in a long black spiralsilk cloak of their own and covered from head to toe in countless strips of thin white medical bandages. The bandages clung strangely to their skin, hanging loose in places and pulled tight in others. That was Argent, the mysterious magician who Weaved the winds like the great conductor of nature¡¯s orchestra. ¡°Haven¡¯t lost your nerve?¡± Argent asked, voice altered by wind. What kind of person was behind all those layers of protection? He was still no closer to figuring it out than when he first woke up in the cabin. ¡°Nope.¡± The Weaver folded his arms, measuring Luke¡¯s worth with those bright golden eyes. For once, it was easy to tell what he was thinking. ¡°I had nightmares,¡± Luke said. ¡°Nothing new for me. I feel pretty plucked, but I can bear this much.¡± He squeezed fists beneath his cloak, but smiled to reassure the man. ¡°We can¡¯t stop a war, but we can make the emperor stub his toe, right?¡± ¡°Well said,¡± Argent said and laughed heartily. That was unusual, not only the sound but the act itself.¡°Well said indeed.¡± It was welcome, though. It helped. ¡°Okay.¡± Argent nodded and spun on his heel, cloak billowing. Back to Luke, he said, ¡°Climb aboard. This won¡¯t be very comfortable, but there¡¯s not much I can do about that.¡± ¡°Climb¡­ what? You?¡± Argent stuck out his arms as if saying ¡®you see anything else?¡¯ and cleared his throat impatiently. Luke hesitantly approached. The man bent down and he grabbed onto surprisingly slender shoulders, the bandages giving way to his touch as if they¡¯d been puffed up by pockets of air. This close, he thought he might pick out a smell, but Argent was odorless. Soft winds rasped all around them, and a few loose strips wrapped themselves around Luke¡¯s wrists and ankles. ¡°Just fastening you,¡± Argent said absentmindedly. He stood and took a deep breath. ¡°Don¡¯t need you falling off.¡± Falling off? Luke could tell that the man was deep in concentration, but to what end? What was he about to do? Curious, he blinked Yellow and saw brilliant Green dust swirling all around them, wind bending in tandem. The light of his own Magenta glowed from below, a blob around the injury he¡¯d sustained from the thunderflute. Argent¡¯s structure was no longer needed¡ª the worst of the minor damage was healed, and all that remained was some tolerable soreness. Luke maintained a thick concentration of Magenta throughout the cylindrical entrance-and-exit injury. White bandages were wrapped all the way around his chest beneath the woolen shirt under his cloak to keep Luke clean and protected while the color did its work. All of which was to say, Argent had freed up a slot to use a second color. ¡°You paying attention?¡± Argent asked. ¡°You¡¯ll love this. I think.¡± fast, a faster speed than he¡¯d ever experienced in any automobile or horse-drawn carriage. It took a moment to register Argent trying to get his attention. ¡°Luke, are you doing okay? Did you pass out on me?¡± ¡°I¡¯m okay!¡± he called over the roaring wind, eyes glued to the sky. It was a bit foggy and too cloudless for his tastes, but it was breathtaking all the same. ¡°This is amazing!¡± As they reached the jump¡¯s apex and started to descend, Luke¡¯s stomach backflipped and his terror immediately began strangling his other emotions. He looked down and saw the ground coming closer at an alarming pace. They were falling. They were falling! ¡°We¡¯re gonna die!¡± he cried out. Argent laughed. The Weaver¡¯s Red left an afterimage behind as he released it. In the next breath, he yanked a hundred threads of glistening Blue light from that unseen place, as if drawing water from a midair sea. Over his shoulder Luke could see the Weave of a thick shield forming. It was external this time, judging by the distinct boot shapes. The cyclone shifted somehow; the wind pushed against them, gradually slowing their forward and downward momentum. Argent landed in a crouch. The pressure and force escaped outward, blowing back tree branches and scattering loose gravel and other debris. He laid one palm flat against the earth for balance, then rose. ¡°Blue is incredible.¡± ¡°Ah, you were paying attention? That was a lot of Blue. I¡¯m Weaving a few tricks with Green to meddle with our velocity, so I pull as much Blue as I can for the landing. It¡¯s pretty forgiving, though. Believe it or not, the only times I¡¯ve hurt myself learning this movement were a few sprains from performing the jump. Red can be tough on the body.¡± ¡°Couldn¡¯t you use Red and Blue at the same time?¡± ¡°Sure. That would work. Smart idea, Luke.¡± ¡°Why don¡¯t you?¡± ¡°A large part of the speed we get during this jump comes from wind manipulation. I need the Green for other things, as well. Like making sure you don¡¯t fly off my back and break your neck.¡± Controlling the bandages, altering his voice, masking his odor, pushing and pulling on their bodies with the wind¡ª it was a wonder just how many things a Weaver could do with a single color. ¡°We¡¯ll reach Ulciscor around noon. Think you can handle it?¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± Argent bent to jump again. From there on, they proceeded to practically fly over the Pines in enormous arcs. Luke watched the process a few more times and picked up on quick Yellow glances from Argent, probably to make sure there was enough Blue and Green ahead. He couldn¡¯t make heads or tails of what Argent was doing with the Green itself. All of it looked way too complicated to understand. His thoughts drifted back to earlier. Only one color¡­ Flocks. He couldn¡¯t believe he hadn¡¯t mentioned this to Argent yet. It had completely slipped his mind until now. ¡°Do you know about the Daevan military¡¯s ampules?¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± Oh. ¡°They¡¯re still limited,¡± Argent said as he landed in a crouch, a powerful blast of wind dispersing around them. ¡°They can¡¯t access the abilities of any aspect except the physical, and the bloodstream rejects more than one color at once. They can only inject Red, Green, or Blue, and they¡¯re having problems with Red in anything but tiny amounts.¡± ¡°You¡¯re¡­ pretty well informed.¡± ¡°It¡¯s in my job description,¡± he said. Red infused his muscles as he prepared for another jump. ¡°Professional pain in Amon¡¯s ass.¡± ¡°How do they make them!¡± Luke asked over the howling winds. ¡°Your guess is as good as mine,¡± he said after landing again. ¡°They can¡¯t mass-produce it, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re wondering. They wouldn¡¯t do that while they¡¯re still developing it.¡± Mass-produced Weaving for the entire empire. What a horrifying thought. ¡°What on Asundria do they need all these weapons for? Aren¡¯t the thunderflutes enough?¡± Argent said nothing. Several jumps later, he finally answered. ¡°Nobody tells Amon Munitio no. That¡¯s the problem. Nobody can stop him. That¡¯s why it¡¯s up to me.¡± ¡°To us.¡± ¡°Hah. Maybe someday. You¡¯ve got a lot of training ahead of you. But first, let¡¯s focus on this imperial invasion. We have an Elite to sabotage.¡± ¡°Sounds good to me.¡± 31 - Seven This is important, he told himself, not for first time. He walked the streets of Ulciscor beside Deen with an air of importance. Passersby gave them a wide berth thanks to their Guard uniforms. Everyone in the city knew an attack by the Daevans was imminent, and no one wanted to be the one to delay or interfere with Guard business. Finding Mammon matters. You owe Lieutenant Korsak that much. ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡ª¡ª¡ª wasn¡¯t there. It was strange¡ª and frankly, a little disappointing¡ª to soar through the skies and not feel so much as a breeze. ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° At least it¡¯s not on fire. He swallowed. I¡¯m back. I¡¯m really back. Maybe we can¡¯t stop the war, but I hope we¡¯re not too late to make a difference. ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° That¡¯s Argent for you. ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡°is a woman trying to kill me, but she¡¯s not really what I¡¯d call friendly.¡± ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡° Blue. Next time, he thought. Thank you, too. Whether or not you¡¯re listening. very heavy¡ª it must not be entirely wood¡ª it did budge. Unlocked. So she was home after all. ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡°nothing to say to you. Other than this.¡± Aisha bared teeth and drew one of her knives. ¡°Tell me where he is. Now.¡± ¡° ¡° ¡ª¡ª¡ª ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° Good idea, Daniels. ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° immaculate handwriting and smiled. He returned the smile, thanked her and pocketed it. ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° A little chat with Velox ought to fix that. ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡°I¡¯m the one who deserted.¡± ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° ¡° 32 - Cerastes ¡°I don¡¯t know where he is,¡± Luke said. ¡°Where did you last see him then?¡± ¡°I haven¡¯t seen him since Cherima.¡± ¡°Cherima?¡± Aisha tilted her head. ¡°That¡¯s an old town inside the triangle. What were you and Daniels doing there?¡± ¡°He was helping me. There¡¯s a lot you don¡¯t know.¡± ¡°Clearly,¡± she said, pressing her knife against Luke¡¯s throat. She lowered her voice to a growl. ¡°What I do know is that the place I call home has lost one of its champions, and I want to know why. What was he helping you with?¡± ¡°I got a letter while I was recovering. It¡¯s in my¡­¡± He swallowed. It was gone along with his old set of clothes. Either Argent had the letter or he¡¯d disposed of it. ¡°I don¡¯t have it. Ask Lieutenant Seras. She read it.¡± ¡°Seras was his closest confidant. Her word is no good.¡± ¡°What do you clipping have against Captain Daniels? He was helping me rescue my friend! You have no right to treat him like a deserter!¡± Something Luke said must have finally gotten through to her. She withdrew her knife and gave him some space. ¡°What did the letter say?¡± She palmed water off her forehead and wiped it on her trousers. ¡°Tell me what happened. Every detail.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a long story.¡± ¡°I will hear you out,¡± she said, motioning with her knife toward the kitchen. ¡°Let¡¯s get on with it, though. I have a conference to attend with General Wolf and Mayor Ren this evening.¡± Luke closed his eyes. The sound of Aisha¡¯s footsteps and a door closing faded away into the background until he could only hear the beating of his heart. He needed someone on his side. Another person to trust. Could he take this risk? What¡¯s best here? She has to know. No response. His heart sank. I need your help. Please. And then, a single word rang out. Cyan. Thank you, he thought, opening his eyes and weaving the color with all his heart. He infused his entire being with as much Cyan light as he could manage. He drew and drew upon that place beyond sight until shadows in the hallway began to retreat in its presence. Submerged in light, a strange sensation rippled through his body. The color of foundation. What was it meant for? Argent hadn¡¯t told him. ¡°Aisha.¡± One of the side doors cracked open and she came through, biting down on a cigarette and stamping a boot on. She looked over at him and opened the corner of her mouth to answer. Whatever she was about to say died on her lips. Her cigarette slipped and hit the floor. When so much color was concentrated in one place, it became visible. Faint and translucent, but even without the Yellow sight, Luke could see himself glowing. And so could she. ¡°Let¡¯s start with this,¡± he said. He sat down beside her and told her everything. He told her about Dux and the ampule, the letter from his brother, the Ahraran pair and their dogged pursuit. Steeling his heart, Luke recounted his encounter with Levian Vega¡ª the man from his nightmares¡ª and the Elite¡¯s supernaturally-skilled bodyguard, and how it all led to his unlikely rescue by a mysterious bandaged magician. It all sounded unbelievable laying it all out like that. In just a few weeks, he¡¯d gone through more than what most people experience in a lifetime. She listened to the entire story with one elbow on the kitchen table and her fist pressed against her cheek, nodding or asking a question occasionally. She was most skeptical of Argent, but there was nothing he could do about that without the presence of the man himself. Even during the time Luke spent with him, he often felt like a mirage that could vanish any moment. ¡°It sounds like a fairy tale,¡± she said, smiling. ¡°Starring one gloomy-looking little boy. But¡­ I don¡¯t think you¡¯re lying.¡± ¡°Because I can glow?¡± Luke frowned. He did not look gloomy. ¡°Of course not.¡± Aisha pinched two fingers together. ¡°Okay. Maybe a smidge. Really, I¡¯ve been watching you closely and you don¡¯t have the verbal tells or body language of a liar. Or you¡¯ve been trained as well as I have. I¡¯d find that harder to believe than the flying magician all dressed up like the old buried rulers of my native country.¡± ¡°You¡¯re good at reading people?¡± ¡°Good?¡± She laughed until she snorted. ¡°Oh yeah. You could say that. Could even say that I¡¯m too good at reading people. But that¡¯s my long story for another time. The point is, Luke, I trust you.¡± He heaved a great sigh of relief and released the Cyan threads. ¡°At least there¡¯s that. Now we just have to find Mammon Rigel.¡± ¡°It¡¯s honestly a little surprising that a person as crafty as Levian Vega let something like that slip. Nothing at all like his reputation.¡± ¡°Well, we were all dead for certain. Argent swooping in to save the day notwithstanding. I don¡¯t think he cared.¡± ¡°Perhaps. If it was purposefully mentioned on the off chance one of you escaped from that situation, what was the point? To waste time? I can¡¯t imagine another beneficial angle.¡± She shook her head and sat up. ¡°It makes me wonder what would have happened had you not gone berserk. Or the appearance of that Argent. What was Vega¡¯s game?¡± She was right. Flocks Above, it hurt to admit that, but she was right. Luke had missed a chance to obtain valuable information because he couldn¡¯t control his temper in the moment. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have lost it,¡± Luke said, putting his head in his hands. ¡°We¡¯d know more. What was I thinking?¡± ¡°You weren¡¯t,¡± she said coolly. ¡°There¡¯s nothing wrong with that.¡± I wasn¡¯t. Couldn¡¯t have said it better if I tried. I¡­ what? He let his hands drop and looked at her, dumbfounded. ¡°Kid.¡± She stood and lightly pushed his shoulder, one hand on her hip. ¡°You might be on the fast track to flying around and punching people with a fist like a brick wall and whatever other nonsense, but you¡¯re still a person. People have feelings.¡± She poked his chest. ¡°You have feelings. Don¡¯t forget that, Luke Nixus. I would have taken a swing at that wingless loser too.¡± The speech sent his heart soaring. He made the right decision coming here. What was done was done. Accept the mistake and move forward. ¡°You can learn from the past, as long as you don¡¯t tie yourself down with it,¡± Aisha said, starting to pace around the table. The only sound in the room for a long moment was the heels of her boots clicking on the floor. She stroked her chin. ¡°Perhaps there¡¯s something we can both learn from the past. You really trust Daniels?¡± ¡°With my life.¡± ¡°Then it¡¯s time to confront an uncomfortable question.¡± She stopped in place. ¡°How these assassins from Cathartes have been tracking you. From Castitas to Filose, up through Ursa into the triangle. Those people have been on you like a cerastes.¡± ¡°Like a what?¡± ¡°Horned scribblesnakes from Ahrar with a nasty bite. Make an enemy of one and you won¡¯t last the day.¡± ¡°Sounds about right.¡± He sighed, tilting back his chair. ¡°Don¡¯t break my chair,¡± she said sharply. He stopped tilting and sunk down, frowning at her. The face she made in return was way too satisfied. She nodded to herself and continued pacing. ¡°Castitas makes sense,¡± Luke said. ¡°I made direct contact with the Daevan army and got away, so they sent assassins after me. It¡¯s the other two that don¡¯t add up. It was the same two people that followed me to Ursa. Maybe¡­ they¡¯re just really persistent?¡± ¡°I doubt they waited outside the city for you all that time. You lost your value the moment you crossed that gate and told us about Vassago Rixator. No, something changed. Something made you a target again.¡± ¡°Weren¡¯t we all targets? They somehow found out about the mission and tried to take us all out?¡± ¡°If Daniels¡¯s testimony is to be believed, there was only one Cathartes assassin that night, and he was only after you. The encounter wrapped itself up a little too conveniently for my taste, what with the man dead and Daniels as the only witness. After Vander and the majors conferred following the incident, that testimony was thrown out.¡± ¡°What incident?¡± ¡°A mass murder at the South Wall,¡± she said. ¡°Lieutenant Arston and the men and women who were on shift with him at the time. It happened the very night you say you left Ulciscor with Daniels. Arston. Luke did not know him well, but he did know him. Steel-gray hair and eyes like iron, he sent them off that night with a smile on his face. He was dead? ¡°That¡¯s terrible,¡± Luke said. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. Why did they conclude it was Daniels though?¡± ¡°His untimely disappearance and the fact that the gate mechanism had been sabotaged. On top of that, some of their wounds indicate they didn¡¯t put up a struggle, suggesting it was someone they could let their guard down around. It all seemed pretty cut and dry. At least until you came along. Now I don¡¯t know what to think.¡± ¡°Who knew about the Filose mission?¡± ¡°Only those who were directly involved. The only other people who knew what we were about were the mayor and the other majors.¡± ¡°What about the others who helped? Like those men who loaded the crates of grain? Or those soldiers he confronted Dux with?¡± ¡°They had no idea what they were really assisting with. Simple men hired for some labor. And¡­¡± She stopped pacing again and rubbed her wrists. ¡°And I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t know who those people are.¡± Luke had assumed they were soldiers Wolf snuck into Filose ahead of time. They were dressed like cargo workers, same as Dux¡¯s soldiers. It was a strange sight, thinking back on it. He had a vague memory of an old woman named Yulania. ¡°Aren¡¯t you close to General Wolf?¡± ¡°I am his confidant, yes. I¡¯ve been offering Vander my counsel and handling tasks on his behalf that are difficult or impossible to perform in an official capacity. Practically since the day I left Ahrar. And I have no idea who those people are. It makes my skin crawl to see them hovering around him like servants from the noble days.¡± ¡°He hasn¡¯t explained who they are?¡± ¡°Every time I ask, he hand-waves the issue. They¡¯re trustworthy, he says. Part of Mirastelle. He¡¯ll give me a proper explanation once the initial chaos of the invasion passes. When I say it out loud like that¡­¡± Mammon and his sycophants are already inside the city. I¡¯ve never seen Rigel¡¯s face. No one knows what he did for Munitio. Luke felt sick. ¡°When did you say that conference was?¡± Aisha¡¯s answer was lost to a tremendous crashing sound. Three burly men entered his field of vision, two shoulder-to-shoulder and the tallest behind them, armed with heavy swords and garbed in the silvery armor of the Ulciscor Guard. As he met their eyes, the leftmost one barreled through the hallway toward him, sword out. Green! Not his voice. Weave it! Green threads wrapped around his limbs as he threw himself from the chair and bent to pick it up. He lifted the chair to meet that sword. Splinters of wood shot everywhere as the objects collided. The armored man grunted, and they both turned to the side to find Aisha crouched, long knife wedged between two plates near the man¡¯s gut. Blood sprayed the tiled floor as she plunged it deep and pulled out in one quick motion. The chair fell to pieces from his hands. Incoming, the voice said. Don¡¯t drop Magenta or you¡¯ll pass out. The second attacker was coming fast, broad axe raised high. Luke traced the path of the falling axe with his eyes, then released Green and began weaving Blue into his arm. He shaped it like a half-size vambrace that went all the way through his arm. Heart in his throat and having no idea if it would work, he held out the half-vambrace and gripped his upper arm with his free hand. The axe slammed against his Blue-threaded forearm with a sound like the sharp crackling of frost. Pain shot through his arm but the axe¡¯s steel head halted. The wide-eyed, stunned expression plastered across the man¡¯s face was permanent. The armored assailant grunted like the first had and collapsed as Aisha deftly pulled away her bloody knife. Luke brought his hands up to intercept the third man, but he could hear the receding clinking of armor and banging of heavy boots. Aisha squeezed herself past him and dashed down the hallway. He dismissed the Blue for Green and glanced at his arm. Quite a gash. Not as much blood as he expected. He coated the cut in Magenta and ran after her. Aisha made a sound in her throat as he reached the front room. She angrily kicked her sliding door. It was completely caved in, broken pieces and debris scattered across the carpets. ¡°Gone. The biggest dog tucked his tail between his legs and ran.¡± Her face was, in a word, livid. ¡°Someone¡¯s paying for all this.¡± ¡°Sorry about your chair¡­¡± She spun and stalked toward him. He winced. ¡°Wow,¡± Aisha whispered. ¡°That is something." He cracked an eye open. She was examining his wound. Gingerly, she raised it up for a closer look. The rush of air stung. ¡°Not that deep. Sit down. I¡¯ve got a first aid kit. I¡¯ll get it cleaned and bandaged. We¡¯ve got a few minutes, then we¡¯re leaving. I don¡¯t want to meet their backup plan.¡± Luke nodded. He brushed a fragment of the sliding door off a small sofa and took a seat. When Aisha came back, she was holding the first aid kit in one hand and her bloody knife in the other. Her belt was lined with a set of long, curved knifes. The twin green and black sheathes resembled horned scribblesnakes. She sat beside him and opened the kit. She took a cloth, wiped her knife clean, and pulled up a leg of her trousers, slipping it into a hidden sheath wrapped against her calf. She set the kit on the floor and dug around. She came up with a cotton boll plucked between a pair of tweezers and a bottle of some kind of medicinal liquid. She uncapped the bottle and turned it over on the boll, then held out her tweezers. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. He made a noise in his throat and resisted when she set the bottle down and pulled at his arm. ¡°Seriously? Come on, Luke Nixus. You took that axe like a real tree. You¡¯re afraid of a little antiseptic?¡± He nodded. ¡°If you pull your arm back again,¡± she whispered, ¡°I¡¯m going to make you pay for what you did to my chair.¡± Two minutes and one yelp later, Aisha finished wrapping the bandage around the crosswise cut on the back of Luke¡¯s forearm. She patted him on the shoulder and smiled. ¡°Not so bad, right?¡± ¡°We just killed soldiers from the Ulciscor Guard.¡± ¡°Yep.¡± ¡°What now? Where can we go?¡± ¡°They didn¡¯t want me at the conference. No bodyguards allowed for a meeting where the city¡¯s top two are together in one room. I say that¡¯s as good an invitation as any. Can you really jump the way you say?¡± ¡°I haven¡¯t practiced it. And I can¡¯t use the color of power right now.¡± ¡°Why not?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± He looked away. ¡°It just isn¡¯t working.¡± ¡°Then I suppose we¡¯ll just have to get there the old-fashioned way. I¡¯ll wave down a carriage.¡± She stood up and dug around in her pockets, pulling out a cigarette and a matchbox. ¡°You want to see this through, right? We¡¯re heading to the Council Building.¡± ¡°Just us?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll grab us some friends on the way,¡± she said, lighting the match and jamming the cigarette between her molars. ¡°Who knows, maybe she¡¯ll try to kill us too. I don¡¯t know about you, but I feel like rolling the dice today.¡± ¡°We have to stop Rigel.¡± Luke rose from the sofa and flexed his hand. No pain. Good. ¡°Count me in. I¡¯ll roll those dice with you.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t want a knife in the back.¡± She flicked away the extinguished match and blew a line of smoke. ¡°I want it right through my heart.¡± Well, that was¡­ extreme. What a scary lady. But he trusted her. ¡ª¡ª¡ª Deen remembered the day he met Arston. Deen had risen to sergeant just a few months after joining the Guard, known throughout the Fourth Regiment as a passionate stickler for the rules. Some liked that, others not so much. It was with dread pasted on his face that the young new recruit first came to the South Wall. Already back then it was whispered a dead-end place, home of the hopeless. His posture was terrible, shoulders slumped, and he barely jumped when Deen first barked at him about it. Over the years, they rose through the ranks together and changed each other for the better. Deen mellowed out¡ª toward his fellow guardsmen, at least¡ª and Arston took his duties with a little more pride. They¡¯d become the backbone of the South Wall. There were others, of course. Seras, Velox, Timm. Too many to count. He¡¯d eaten at Deen¡¯s house so many times Lyla once said he was part of the family. And now he was dead. Deen slammed his palms onto his thighs. ¡°My family visits the Castitas orchard every summer,¡± Velox said to Cyrus. ¡°Your village produces some quality stuff.¡± ¡°Thank you sir,¡± Cyrus said. He bowed his head. The two of them were sitting on Velox¡¯s bed, getting acquainted while Deen had asked for a few moments to process the news. Cyrus was done telling the captain about the journey to Cherima, and they¡¯d moved on to small talk. Deen sat at Velox¡¯s desk, eyes on the floor as he thought about what he¡¯d been told. Steel through the back. Arston never saw it coming. Watching for threats against the city, not knowing the threat was already inside. Not just once, either. The lieutenant¡¯s wounds were numerous. They finished the deed by slashing his throat open. Deen knew who was behind the attack. Where the butcher¡¯s allegiance lied. No question about it. ¡°Silhouette,¡± he growled. ¡°You will pay.¡± ¡°You really think Mammon Rigel is in the city?¡± Velox asked, turning to address him. ¡°Not gonna lie, you two. This story of yours sounds just like that. A story. You¡¯d be hard-pressed to find anybody in Ulciscor who would actually believe you illegally crossed into the triangle and met Levian Vega. And the whole reason you went there in the first place was so a kid separated from his family since the war could reconnect with his long lost brother who just so happens to be Vega¡¯s Ace.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t forget the person who fell from the sky,¡± Deen said. ¡°If it was anybody but you, I¡¯d recommend them to the mind doctors.¡± Velox pinched the bridge of his nose. ¡°But I know you. I don¡¯t care what Wolf and the majors think. You¡¯re physically incapable of telling a convincing lie, and you¡¯ve been a few feathers short of a pillow since the day you were born. I can¡¯t imagine you stabbing someone in the back. So what choice do I have but to believe this nonsense?¡± ¡°You¡¯ll help us then?¡± Deen asked. ¡°Absolutely not,¡± Velox said, shaking his head. ¡°I have a nice life going and I¡¯d like to keep it that way. The Seventh division here isn¡¯t all that bad, you know. They invited me for cards tonight.¡± ¡°You¡¯re gambling on the eve of war?¡± Deen asked, incredulous. ¡°What? Don¡¯t give me that look. It¡¯s not like we can play tomorrow. That being said, if you really are still a man of the Walls¡­¡± He grinned. ¡°I suppose there¡¯s no harm in letting a secret or two slip, is there?¡± So he¡¯d trade information. Could have just said that. Deen rubbed his eyes and¡ª instead of reaching out and snapping his former co-captain¡¯s neck¡ª took a deep breath. Not the first time he¡¯d taken that exact breath. Hopefully it wouldn¡¯t be the last. ¡°Do you know where the major is?¡± ¡°You want to meet Vasran? I¡¯m not so sure that¡¯s wise, Daniels.¡± Deen frowned. ¡°Why not?¡± ¡°Jorgen Vasran is the brainchild behind this,¡± Velox said, walking over to the desk and waving the letter at him. ¡°I watched him convince Cade. It all snowballed from there. You and I both know that stubborn crow won¡¯t go back on a decision when he¡¯s this certain. Not unless we get everybody back together to take a stand for you and Seras.¡± ¡°Top brass would court-martial the lot of you.¡± He shook his head. ¡°Maybe even kill you all. That¡¯s a bad idea. They¡¯ve already got my family on house arrest. Tells you where their minds are.¡± ¡°Lyla?¡± Velox asked, shocked. He must not have known that. ¡°And your aunt and uncle? They¡¯ve got guards posted?¡± He nodded. ¡°Saw them with my own eyes.¡± ¡°Flocks. They really aren¡¯t taking any chances with this. Scattered us with reassignments, tossed Seras in prison, your family¡­¡± What could be done? They fell silent. ¡°What about General Wolf?¡± Cyrus said. ¡°Could you see him?¡± Deen and Velox turned to face him. ¡°Sorry,¡± Cyrus said, eyes lowered. ¡°Stupid thought.¡± ¡°Not at all,¡± Deen said. ¡°It¡¯s smart, actually.¡± Velox cocked his head. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t go that far. Insane, maybe.¡± ¡°It¡¯s reckless, but it just might be our only chance to get this information across in time.¡± He pounded his palm with the side of a fist and looked at Velox. ¡°Give it directly to the guy in charge. Where is he?¡± The spindly captain glanced at a clock on the wall and made a sound in his throat. ¡°You¡¯re not gonna like it.¡± ¡°Give me the bad news.¡± ¡°Right about now, he¡¯s on his way to the Council Building. He might already be inside by the time you get over there. The general is holding a conference with Ren at six o¡¯clock.¡± Deen¡¯s eyes flicked to the clock. Just after three. He grimaced. They¡¯d burned so much daylight skulking around the city. Worse, if Mammon Rigel knew about that conference; Ulciscor¡¯s two leaders in one place¡­ ¡°We¡¯re low on time. Wolf it is,¡± he declared, standing. ¡°Velox, are you gonna give me your automobile¡¯s key or do I have to shake you until it falls out of your¡ª¡± Everyone¡¯s attention was drawn to the door at the sound of a knock. ¡°Expecting anyone today?¡± Deen asked quietly. ¡°Nope.¡± Two more knocks. ¡°Must be for us,¡± he said, grim. Deen motioned for Cyrus to stand and come over. Velox grabbed a spear nestled in a leather shoulder strap and threw it on. They gathered around the door. Nobody said a word on the other side. Instead, the keyhole began to jostle. ¡°Hey. Remember when Sergeant Milton found us in the pantry?¡± ¡°Didn¡¯t I say I wasn¡¯t going to¡­¡± Velox muttered, voice trailing off as the keyhole twisted. ¡°Fine. You win.¡± Deen put his back to Velox. The captain took hold of one of his arms and pressed it against his back in a restraining motion. The door opened, revealing a man dressed in the Guard¡¯s silver and black buttoned all the way to the neck, key in hand. He was short with dark close-cropped hair and a thick mustache. A sword sheath hung from his belt. Deen recognized the man, though they¡¯d never interacted before. The Southwest Wall¡¯s First Captain, Berke. ¡°Oh, good. I see you have it in hand, Captain Velox,¡± Berke said. ¡°Do you have to do that so tightly?¡± Deen said, grunting. ¡°Quiet,¡± Velox said. ¡°Murderer.¡± ¡°Guess our captain isn¡¯t the man you thought he was,¡± Berke said. ¡°You¡¯re going to answer for what you did to Arston.¡± Velox twisted his arm harder, and he let out a genuine cry of pain. ¡°The moment he heard you at the door, sir, this coward made to flee.¡± ¡°I see,¡± Berke said, running a finger through his mustache. ¡°And this boy? You are Cyrus Alder, I presume?¡± Cyrus said nothing. ¡°Answer him,¡± Velox said. ¡°Yes sir,¡± Cyrus said softly. ¡°We got a tip,¡± Berke said. ¡°Deen Daniels here was impersonating you at the assignment office to gain information on your new post, captain. Regrettably, he succeeded. The woman who provided the information realized her folly shortly thereafter.¡± ¡°That clipping clerk,¡± Deen muttered. He cried out again as Velox jerked on his arm hard. ¡°You don¡¯t speak to anyone but the interrogators,¡± Velox warned, pushing him forward. Berke made space, backing out into the hallway. ¡°Let¡¯s move. Come on, Cyrus.¡± ¡°Is he an accomplice?¡± ¡°No,¡± Velox said. ¡°He¡¯s just a young man who was caught up in all of this. Deen has been using him for his own ends.¡± As he was shoved outside, he took notice of four soldiers standing a ways off, blocking the path further inward. Likely, they thought Deen was here to kill Velox and perhaps others. Only two soldiers prevented access to the way they¡¯d entered from. ¡°Never thought a captain would turn out to be a Daevan spy,¡± Berke said, looking down his nose at Deen. He reached out and cupped Deen¡¯s chin. He resisted the urge to spit at the man and gritted his teeth. The First Captain turned away, nodding to himself. ¡°But I suppose it makes sense. He was from the South Wall, after all.¡± He didn¡¯t even have to give Velox a signal to extricate from each other. Velox freed his arm and stepped up beside him as Deen spun Berke around by the shoulder, then they decked the man in unison. ¡°You owe me,¡± Velox said and drew his spear. The group of four guards began to stalk toward them. They hesitated when Velox lowered the tip of his spear to the unconscious body of their captain. ¡°If we make it through this, I¡¯ll play as many clipping rounds of cards as you want for a week.¡± Deen said, pointing at the set of two guards with his own spear. ¡°This way! Stay close, you two!¡± ¡°Right,¡± Cyrus said. ¡°But you¡¯re terrible at cards. It¡¯s no fun!¡± ¡°I¡¯ll buy your damn drinks, too!¡± Velox exhaled loudly. ¡°The things I do for you, Daniels!¡± The three of them bolted down the hallway, boots pounding on the hard floor. Distantly he could hear the larger group of guards in pursuit. The two guards ahead raised their weapons defensively. ¡°It¡¯s the traitor!¡± one of the guards bellowed from behind. ¡°The captain who killed his own lieutenant!¡± another shouted. Deen didn¡¯t hesitate. As he came in close, he pulled the spear back using his front hand, shifting it sideways to deflect an incoming sword slash and diverted another by slamming the haft into the second guard¡¯s wrist. Holding it like that, he pressed against the collarbone of the man he¡¯d deflected and put his body weight behind it, knocking him over. His sword clattered off the ground. Through that opening, the three of them hurried past. Calls to halt chased them as they crossed the gate into a clearing that would lead back into the streets of the city proper. The gate¡¯s entrance was completely unguarded, the clearing devoid of any people. That was strange. What had happened to the chatty pair from earlier? Were they the ones following them? ¡°Daniels,¡± Velox said. ¡°What¡ª¡± His heart skipped a beat. Men and women in black and silver were approaching in droves. They poured into view from every street connected to the clearing, thirty or forty in all, not counting the six hot on their heels. They began to form a semicircle around the trio, tightening like a noose with each marched step forward. Among those standing at the front was a spectacled woman clad in silvery armor, her golden mantle swaying in the wind as she sipped from a colorless gourd. Major Cade wore earrings this day, small metallic designs of some bird or Flock hanging from each ear by chain. He¡¯d never seen her wear jewelry before, although he wasn¡¯t sure why he noticed it right then. Velox shouted something, but he didn¡¯t register the words in his head. It felt like time had slowed down. Blood was rushing loudly in his ears. Blood¡­ and something else. He realized it before everyone else and glimpsed a strange shadow that passed over the semicircle of guards. Blood and wind roared as a figure in a black cloak flapping wildly touched down in the clearing, crouched on one knee. The figure stood and flung both arms wide, fingers grasping as if to take hold of the very air itself. Had Deen led them to death or salvation? He didn¡¯t stop to wonder. He grabbed Velox and Cyrus¡ª they had stopped moving, along with every other person standing in that clearing¡ª and pulled them in the direction of one of the city streets, away from the Guard¡¯s noose. The cloaked figure spun around and the wind cracked like a whip, bodies in the encircling formation scattered backward like bowling pins. For the second time, that bandaged stranger met Deen¡¯s eyes. The sight transfixed him as he ran, and he nodded to those eyes. In that frozen moment, he understood he¡¯d been saved. The figure turned back to the soldiers of the Guard, arms crossed and feet planted firmly. Any of the guards who¡¯d regained their footing and dared approach¡ª Cade included¡ª faced down the cloaked stranger with proper Ulciscor tenacity. In turn, the figure raised an open-palmed hand high, fingers splayed, and pushed as if shoving something of great weight. Again the soldiers were toppled or sent flying. In the blink of an eye Cade drew the blade hanging from her waist and dug it point-first into the dirt, teeth clenched against the onslaught of air. Flocks, she was as intimidating as ever. The sight of Major Alexis Cade taking on an insurmountable task like that would have been impressive, awe-inspiring even, if he wasn¡¯t painfully aware of the fact that she¡¯d probably been the one to mobilize this entire group just to execute him without a trial. ¡°Daniels!¡± Velox screamed. ¡°In front!¡± He wrenched his eyes from that sight to come face to face with three soldiers already upon them¡ª terribly close. He crashed the length of his spear off a blade¡¯s edge and bent out of the way of an opponent¡¯s spear thrust aimed precisely at his neck. The third held back, sword out and standing just out of range. He noted a fourth guard on their right closing the distance fast. The impending reality of becoming Guard-killers gripped his stomach tightly. There was no way out. An ear-splitting crack of wind knocked over all three assailants. The bandaged stranger leapt an unnatural distance toward them, nearly cresting the head of a nearby guardswoman. The guard moved to strike the figure in flight, weapon sweeping high, but she only managed to miss and awkwardly tumble onto her side. Velox engaged the guard to their right and kicked him away, spear positioned defensively for a counterattack that never came. The figure leapt again and closed the gap, landing between Velox and the guard who suddenly lost his footing and tripped. ¡°This way,¡± the figure said in a strange, wind-warped voice. They pointed at the closest street, and the four of them ran together. ¡°Turn yourself in, Daniels!¡± Cade yelled. Deen stopped and turned around to regard her. Her braid and earrings shook furiously from the winds and she gripped her earthened sword in the same manner an elderly man might steady himself by cane. Her eyes were pleading. She held out one hand in gesture, distant though he was to take it. ¡°Come, let us end this! Drop your spear and I will guarantee your life!¡± Someone was pulling on his arm. Velox. Ahead, even more soldiers had spilled into the street they¡¯d chosen. The Ulciscor Guard were a determined lot, whether the winds were with them or against them. But by the Twelve, he was one of them too. No matter what anyone said or how many of his comrades tried to stick a sword or spear through his neck. He was Captain clipping Daniels! ¡°I am innocent!¡± he bellowed. He saluted, pounding his chest. ¡°And we will stop Mammon Rigel! This I swear!¡± He faced forward and raced after the others with Velox, letting the winds drown out whatever else she might have said. ¡ª¡ª¡ª Berke rubbed blood off his lip with an arm, grimacing at the smear on his cuff. His cheek felt swollen. Those two traitors had really pulled one over on him. He waved off the soldier offering him a handkerchief and climbed to his feet. He dusted himself off. He was First Captain of the Southwest Wall. To have been caught off-guard in such a manner was¡­ unbecoming. Those two had fled outside. That surprised him. He was certain if Daniels had truly returned as the clerk¡¯s report suggested, he would have done so with no intent to leave. Fortunately, Major Cade foresaw such a possibility and left that butcher no recourse but to lie dead at her feet. Ah, there she is now. Berke waved Cade over, stepping inside Velox¡¯s quarters. The major¡¯s expression as she walked in was¡­ how to describe it? Somber, perhaps. She must have placed a great deal of trust in that Daniels fellow over the years before he revealed his true allegiances. For a captain to betray the Guard so deeply was a terrible blow to morale, South Wall or not. Finally though, the soldiers could focus on tomorrow and the blood that must be paid to Terra Daeva. She dismissed Berke¡¯s guards with a gesture, accompanied only by two of her own. He saluted her and noticed a droplet of blood hit his knuckle. A nosebleed. Ironic, he supposed, after thinking about paying blood to the Daevans. He apologized and began digging through his uniform pockets for a handkerchief. Should have taken the soldier¡¯s, he thought with annoyance. ¡°It¡¯s done, I take it?¡± Berke asked. ¡°Major?¡± She said nothing, closing the door. Where was that damn cloth? The blood was getting all over his sleeves. Oh, what a mess. Cade pulled a handkerchief from her pocket, catching his eye. ¡°Oh, thank you major, my apologies. I can¡¯t seem to find my¡ª¡± He was cut off by the most intense, sudden pain he¡¯d ever felt in his life radiating throughout his torso. A heart attack? No. His gaze fell and he stared with shock at the steel blade penetrating his chest. He stepped toward her, confused. So much pain. What was happening? Cade shoved him away, and the wretched sound of steel slipping from flesh tore a scream from the bottom of his soul. As soon as he¡¯d begun, she reached forward and grabbed him by the throat. He thrashed and writhed, but her iron grip never wavered. The last things Berke ever saw was the dark smirk that slid across her face when he met her eyes, followed by the ceiling of Velox¡¯s quarters. As he fell, he thought he caught a glimpse of the major wiping blood off her blade with that handkerchief. Whose blood was that? As everything around him began to blacken, Cade spoke. But not to him. ¡°You are guilty, Daniels. I will make sure of that.¡± Him, she didn¡¯t even acknowledge. 33 - Instrument of Death James¡¯s hands shook like a tree caught in a furious storm. The dagger he held felt a great deal heavier than he could have ever imagined. He looked to his father sitting on a bench nearby. Raum Nixus was a ragged, tired man dressed in a clean cotton-white shirt, calloused hands resting on his lap. Above James, a hand grabbed his hair tight and twisted his head back toward what he¡¯d been avoiding. Who he¡¯d been avoiding. Restrained against a featureless stone brick wall was a grimy man in a torn and tattered red uniform coat. The tall man behind James cast a shadow over half of the man¡¯s dirtstained face. He¡¯d been gagged and his arms were held over his head by metal chains pulled tight. Sturdy braces held his ankles to the floor. His eyes were glassy, lips split and cracked. A line of dried blood marred one cheek, and the red-coated man was missing two fingers on his left hand. A shoulder patch marked him as a member of the Feathered Chevaliers. ¡°What are you waiting for?¡± the tall man asked. ¡°Who was he?¡± James asked softly. ¡°A murderer of three that we know of and more besides. That blood on his face doesn¡¯t belong to him. His unit crossed the mountains in the night. They avoided detection by cutting the throats of men and women and children just like you sound asleep in the bedrolls of their tents.¡± ¡°That can¡¯t be,¡± he protested, gritting his teeth. ¡°Are you surprised? That¡¯s the true face of Ganymede¡¯s peace,¡± the tall man said. The glassy-eyed captive shifted slightly, groaning softly as he did. ¡°More blood and butchery, the same as any commander in these times. No different from the rest. To unite men under one banner and end this spiraling cycle of madness, that is why we serve Munitio.¡± Could he reconcile his dream of joining the Chevaliers with the brutal reality? Once, James would have tried. He would carefully weigh it all on a scale before finally coming to a decision. But he didn¡¯t have that kind of luxury anymore. His life, and his father¡¯s life, balanced on a dagger¡¯s edge. That was the dagger he held, so terribly heavy. And yet¡­ despite its weight, he¡¯d already made up his mind, hadn¡¯t he? The moment he¡¯d asked who the man was instead of who he is. ¡°You¡¯ve stopped shaking.¡± James plunged the dagger through the man¡¯s heart, and in doing so, took his first life. The man¡¯s body jolted only once, then fell still. His glassy eyes remained open, staring sightlessly. James backed away, dagger held tight by his white-knuckled hands. Blood flowed from the mortal wound he¡¯d inflicted like a leak in a chipped gourd. What he had done, had it been for vengeance? To end a cycle? Just to survive? He wasn¡¯t sure. He hadn¡¯t made a decision before he did it. His tall master told him to kill that man, so he did. He didn¡¯t think things through, not this time. He acted as an extension of his master¡¯s will. A tool used for its purpose. It was easier to think of himself that way. ¡°Well done, Typhos,¡± Vega said, patting his shoulder. ¡°Typhos?¡± ¡°That is your new name. And you, dear old daddy, are now called Barbatos. Henceforth you both belong to Cathartes, and thus belong to me. Your old lives are over and your old names are no longer required. Never mention them¡ª never think of them¡ª again. Understood?¡± ¡°Understood, Master Vega,¡± his father said. ¡°Understood, Master Vega.¡± His master pressed some sort of cloth into his hand. ¡°Good. Clean yourself off, Typhos. With me, Barbatos.¡± The door closed behind them, and he was left with nothing but the sound of his heart thumping loudly in his ears and the sight of the man he¡¯d killed, blood slowly collecting inside a basin around his feet. He watched the blood leak out until his mind finally caught up. His master had handed him a cleaning rag. Specks of red had splattered across his hands as well as the dagger itself. He wiped it off as best he could, sheathing the dagger and leaving the dead Chevalier behind. He clung to that bloodied rag, knuckles white as he¡¯d killed the man with. After he left, he wouldn¡¯t let the attendants of Vega take it away. It belonged to Typhos. ¡ª¡ª¡ª A heavy rain beat down on Typhos as he adjusted the neck of his filthy, sodden cloak and looked out from atop the Alder residence through a pair of binoculars across the pitiable village beneath his perch. Once nothing but a mishmash of little log huts and a scant handful of brick-and-mortar buildings that had survived the Razing, Castitas had transformed in the weeks since its occupation. Those homes, huts and all, were packed full of Daevan soldiers. Tents and campfires and cookpots lined every cobblestone street in sight and beyond, sheltering the full might of the Emperor¡¯s Shield. Asmari Capella¡¯s army. A few soldiers dressed in the Third¡¯s brown-and-yellow were still milling about, patrolling the tents in patterns he¡¯d spent the last hour observing and studying in detail. He¡¯d already figured out the game. Although the highest concentration of soldiers surrounded a two-story red brick building where Capella had set up her base of operations, there was a separate area of interest¡ª an unusually concentrated cluster of tents several streets over. What the tents occupied was not a street or road in itself, but instead an open space dedicated to the rows of a small orange orchard. It was watched by fewer soldiers, but the paths they walked were smarter; more efficient, less overlapping. It was as if the Third were trying to hide the fact that something important was at that orchard. And that, he suspected, was where they would find Rixator. When the last of the Third¡¯s campfires went out, lost to howling wind and relentless rain, Typhos lowered his binoculars and gazed northward. The sun had taken a bow and exited its endless stage. A blanket of black clouds rolled across that stage, lit by the occasional bolt of lightning. Booming thunder followed each strike. This storm had been disrupting communications to Ulciscor; the last news they¡¯d heard from Mammon and the Sixth was hours ago, around three o¡¯clock. By now, the populace was firmly in the throes of Highlight, either on their knees begging to be conquered or waging a full-scale revolt against their sworn defenders. Forced to kill their own soldiers, the Raven said in its childlike voice from inside the coingourd strapped to his ankle. Sounds familiar. No one¡¯s forcing me to do this, Typhos thought. I made a choice. He¡¯ll kill you if you don¡¯t. At least, you think he will. Ever heard of boundaries, Raven? Not my fault. Try not thinking so loudly for a change. You¡¯ve really got to get a handle on that. Admit it. This is no choice. That master of yours treats you as though you¡¯re a clay doll. He molds you. Plays with you. Stop bothering me or I¡¯ll chuck your prison into the Sheer Sea. Wait until the mission is over. Then we¡¯ll talk. Looking forward to it, Typhos or James or whatever your name is supposed to be. You still haven¡¯t actually told me, you know. Bit rude. After the mission. I want to focus. The Raven sighed. Oh, fine. Do as you like. He lowered himself from the Alder residence¡¯s gabled roof down to a flatter section that his boots could just barely touch when holding on to the edge by his fingertips. He crept around to a window and tapped on it twice with a thumbnail. The window glided open partway without so much as a squeak. Cathartes had lubricated every hinge in the building weeks ago. He kept his head down and climbed inside. He doubted anyone from Capella¡¯s camp would be watching their windows so keenly, but it was good hygiene for stealth specialists to take as many precautions as possible. If there was an outside observer, odds favored they¡¯d be looking around the height of a person¡¯s head and would have missed his entry. He nodded to Niya. She stood in the dark featureless room, flat against the wall just beside the window. The Samatkaeb woman bowed her head slightly to him and slid the window back down, then trailed after him into the tiny, low-ceilinged hallway of the third floor. Typhos pushed open a door and entered what was once a cramped storage space, now empty grounds for the vultures to gather. The two veterans inside wore the red-on-black robes like Niya, though theirs had more elaborate patterns to indicate authority. Short-haired Grendelle and snarky-lipped Kudlak, did not bow their heads as he approached. From the perspective of the eldest members of Cathartes, he¡¯d lost trust with Master Vega and needed to earn their respect back by faithfully performing his duties. Grendelle he knew, a Siri woman that managed the scouts and delivered many messages on Levian¡¯s behalf that required the utmost secrecy over the years. Kudlak he was somewhat unfamiliar with, but he knew of him. The wavy-haired man looked irritable; face unpleasant and arms folded. He was tapping his foot impatiently. Kudlak these days led most of the organization¡¯s group missions, directing lower-ranked members through combat situations. Typhos had predominantly spent the last few years on various forms of training and solo missions, so he hadn¡¯t been given the opportunity to get to know the man. ¡°Well, Ace?¡± Kudlak asked. ¡°I no longer believe the target resides with Capella. He¡¯s secluded himself close by, inside an orchard with too many tents and patrols too precise. He may expect this.¡± Kudlak¡¯s eyes flicked to Grendelle. ¡°My best scouts report the same,¡± she said. ¡°One of the Shield¡¯s brigadiers was spotted in that area. A man named Kresnik.¡± ¡°What does he look like?¡± Typhos asked. ¡°He is¡ª¡± ¡°A pompous, primped fool,¡± Kudlak said, cutting her off. ¡°Long black ponytail, white gloves and boots. Face drenched in such skincare products you¡¯d think the bastard was made of porcelain.¡± Grendelle blinked. ¡°I take it,¡± Niya said gently, ¡°there is some history between you and this Kresnik fellow.¡± ¡°They entered Cathartes together,¡± Grendelle said. ¡°The two of them were transfers from Munitio, intended as reinforcements during our wide-scale operations against the remnants of the Chevaliers.¡± Typhos could hear the unspoken part as well as if it¡¯d been shouted. One took to the lifestyle of Cathartes, the other didn¡¯t. Even the oft-possessive Levian Vega must have agreed this Kresnik¡¯s talents were better spent elsewhere. He glanced at Kudlak and saw the bloodlust in his eyes. He must have been told by Levian that was a high likelihood he¡¯d encounter his former associate when he agreed to lead this mission. ¡°You just leave him to me,¡± Kudlak said with a wicked smile as he crackled his knuckles. ¡°I will put down that porcelain-faced runaway.¡± ¡°We¡¯re going with the orchard then?¡± Typhos asked. ¡°Yes,¡± Kudlak said. ¡°We proceed under the assumption that Rixator is somewhere in those tents. Grendelle, you were as confident as our Ace about the target¡¯s location. Did you have your scouts sketch a map?¡± She flipped a folded paper along the back of her hand and through her fingers with dextrous skill until it was clutched between her index and middle digits, then offered it to Kudlak. He unfurled it on the floor and spent a moment studying it. ¡°No doubt about it,¡± he said. ¡°They¡¯re hiding something from their neighbors in those tents. Let¡¯s talk strategy. Master Vega wants the target alive, but there¡¯s a lot of leeway otherwise. First, those patrols¡­¡± As their mission leader pulled a marker out from his belt pouch and began to elucidate everyone on their individual tasks ahead, anticipation thrummed through Typhos¡¯s blood. You asked to know me, he thought. Soon you¡¯ll see. ¡ª¡ª¡ª Typhos threaded the needle and pushed it through his scarf. He brought the needle around and began using a practiced hand to connect the fraying scarf to the bloody rag with a blanket stitch. He would trim those fraying threads afterward. It wouldn¡¯t do to have the scarf catching on any old thing that he¡ª No, wait. Stop. His name was James. He was James. He¡¯d been doing that more and more as of late. He shook his head as if to ward the thought off. ¡°Doing alright, son?¡± Raum asked. ¡°Fine, father.¡± Raum Nixus had a plan to escape. He hadn¡¯t shared all of the details, but James knew it required them to deployed on the same mission. Vega was careful, though. Careful and crafty. More than any man James had ever known, maybe more than he ever will. Only thrice in fifty-eight missions had they been paired together, and always part of a larger unit. Fifty-eight missions. It had been two, perhaps three years since his initial training concluded and James became a full-fledged assassin of Cathartes. His peers had argued at first, but his skill with the sword held all tongues. How Jubi-ei would weep if the man knew what he¡¯d become. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. Sewing work finished, James wrapped the scarf around his neck, the newest rag a different color than the last. A patchwork of cloth that came in all shapes and sizes and colors bound together and stank of unwashed blood and grime. Always he wore it on the days of a mission. ¡°I¡¯m going,¡± he said. ¡°Come back.¡± ¡°I will.¡± Several weeks later, eighteen assassins of Cathartes infiltrated what appeared to be an abandoned hospital on the mountainside of northern Vega, James among them. Long had the disciples of Levian Vega known it was the base of the ever-reclusive Chevaliers, but only now was the time right for the vultures to descend upon them. A bulk of the crimson-coats had left, headed for Altair on a desperate quest to forge an alliance with a modest band of rebels loyal to the Families of old. Only a skeleton crew had been left behind, and soon they would be skeletons in truth. He crept through the dark corridors accompanied by one partner, a veteran woman bearing a scar on her left cheek who¡¯d taught him the finer points of an assassin¡¯s footwork. Lightly they stepped, not a sound to be heard in the hospital. Every door the two of them passed he eyed cautiously, expecting Chevaliers to pounce on them at any moment. It was that cautious, anticipatory state of mind that allowed him to pick up on a well-greased door opening soundlessly behind them. Though it made no noise and no light spilled from the inside, he still managed to notice the door¡¯s opening because the corridor¡¯s air flow had been disrupted, causing a subtle shift in temperature. How many seconds since it opened? He spun immediately, scarf of rags billowing from the motion. As he did so, he drew the blade from his belt and became Typhos. The child prodigy of Cathartes. Armed with Vega¡¯s swordsmanship, he could humble most of the adult members. A single enemy. In the darkness, he could not make out detail, but it was definitely the Chevalier uniform. A short man with no hair to speak of, the lower half of his face wrapped in darkly-colored cloth. He¡¯d already taken a stance of attack. The veteran woman was slow to react and took the man¡¯s blade with a hastily-drawn dagger to divert the blow. It still managed to glance off her side and she muffled an instinctive yelp of pain. The man was wide open, so Typhos struck. He sought the kill¡ª and the simplest way to accomplish that was to sever the man¡¯s carotid artery. His qualms about the value of a stranger¡¯s life had long been quashed; stomped and thrashed and beaten out of him. The Chevalier was a blademaster or close to it, that much was clear. Like lightning he pulled his sword back to fend off Typhos, then swung at the woman as he stepped back to create distance. He angled himself in such a way that they could not assault him in tandem. His movements were tight and precise, this time there was no opening to speak of. Perhaps he hadn¡¯t expected a child to go on the offensive. Many of Typhos¡¯s peers in Cathartes worked in support roles such as scouting or field medicine. Rarely did the other children take to the bloody work, and none like he. The female veteran was no slouch. She fought the man to a draw for almost a full minute despite the weapon disparity. It came as almost a disappointment to Typhos when the blademaster was brought down by a knife to the back, courtesy of another Carthates member who¡¯d found them by following the sound of steel. He tended to his partner¡¯s wounds using a first aid kit strapped to his calf. The worst of it was that first glancing blow she¡¯d taken, but it wasn¡¯t that deep; she would live. She did not thank him. You were expected to help your fellow vultures, but that was where it ended. Bonds between members that did not know each other prior to joining the organization was expressly forbidden. The third Cathartes member who¡¯d assisted them had vanished as swiftly as he¡¯d appeared. Typhos poked his head into the room the Chevalier blademaster had come out from, but it was empty. An old office, he thought. Distantly, he could make out the sound of men screaming on the other end of the hospital. Just as the veteran was telling him she was ready to move again, the lights in the corridor and the empty room flicked on. That was the signal that the perimeter around the building was secure, along with some key rooms and chokepoints. It was over, barring any other blademasters stowing themselves away in dead end rooms. He let his vision adjust to the brightness and spared a glance for the man lying flat on his back in the corridor. The man stared sightlessly at the ceiling with pinkish-white eyes and his skin was tinged a faint cyan. The curious colors of the Shinkaian people. Wait. It couldn¡¯t be¡­ ¡°What are you doing?¡± the woman asked as he crouched and pulled away the blademaster¡¯s face mask. That mustache, the lines and wrinkles and blemishes of his face. It was unmistakably the man who¡¯d first mentored him in the martial arts. For one fleeting moment he was back in Lumina, practicing his kata under the crimson laurels. A naive boy who wanted the strength to protect a world already hopelessly broken. Goodbye, Jubi-ei. ¡°Did you know him?¡± she asked as he rose. ¡°I thought I did,¡± Typhos said. ¡°It seems I was mistaken.¡± She said nothing and led the way toward where the other vultures would be waiting with fresh orders to sweep the place and wipe out any remaining Chevaliers. ¡ª¡ª¡ª When the rolling sea of black clouds smothered the last patch of moonlight poking through its defenses, Typhos pulled his face mask up and strode quietly into the rainsoaked orchard. No lanternlight reflected off Hagetaka as he drew it in the shadow of the first unwitting patrol and rent the man¡¯s neck with such silent grace as if he¡¯d died in his sleep. The blindfold he¡¯d worn for the last half hour offered him greater acuity in darkness and enough precision to snatch the corpse by the belt. With one hand he flipped the tachi into a reverse grip and sheathed it as he gently lowered the corpse face-down in the mud and swiped the lantern away, lowering the hood¡¯s narrow opening the rest of the way to snuff its blinding flame. Distantly to his left and right dropped two more dark outlines. Niya and Grendelle grabbed their respective victims and did much the same. Kudlak, he could not see. Their mission leader was on the other end of the orchard, nearest the destination: the central tent in a tight cluster of tents numbering a dozen or so. Only a few rows of properly-spaced outlier tents barred Kudlak¡¯s way to the cluster, less than half as many for the trio whose job was to draw the soldiers out and create the opening necessary for Kudlak to breach the cluster. Twenty seconds until discovery. He stalked through the orchard as fast as he dared, not allowing his boots to slosh in the mud. Through the corner of his eye he saw Grendelle reach her second target and bury a smallsword between their ribs. He came upon his own, a hooded figure short as he was and struck the blow. He must have missed her carotid by a fraction of a hair, because the figure turned to him with horror in her eyes. A woman that looked not much older than he, the act of turning sealed her fate by allowing Hagetaka to finish the grisly deed. Her blood splattered across his patchwork cloak. Those eyes rolled back and one soft, futile gurgle escaped her throat as he lowered her to the ground. He pushed the woman from his mind and looked for Niya. She¡¯d succeeded too. Three lives traded for twenty seconds more. On to the next. Again and again they bartered lives for time. The strategy wouldn¡¯t last. Discovery was inevitable, but the more they killed, the clearer Kudlak¡¯s path to Rixator became. When the alarm was to be raised, the three of them would head straight for the cluster to engage the enemy from behind. Confusion and panic would sweep through the Third like a contagion. That was the plan. At least, until a drunken soldier stumbling toward a nearby tent looked right at Typhos and asked who he was. A flash of lightning illuminated the muddied corpse that laid at his feet. You¡¯re not at all the person I thought you were, the Raven said. Oh, what a pretty smile you¡¯re making under that mask. Finally some honesty. ¡°Now,¡± he said softly, caressing Hagetaka¡¯s sheath. ¡°I¡¯ll show you.¡± Mouth agape, the soldier had the presence of mind to shout a call to arms as Typhos closed the distance in two splashes and cleaved, parting head from shoulders. The crashing of thunder overpowered the twin thumps into the muddy earth. It didn¡¯t matter¡ª the next patrol was only a few feet away and saw the entire exchange. He faced his next victim, a middle-aged man with a salt-and-pepper beard echoing the call to arms. He brandished a broadsword and Typhos became acutely aware of the wedding ring on the man¡¯s finger. The thought was gone from his head the moment he plunged his tachi through the soldier¡¯s neck, evading his first and only strike. The man sank to his knees and fell forward into the mud. He closed his eyes and saw the chained Chevalier hanging limp inside the execution chamber. Even now he could feel the blood running down his fingers like droplets of rain. As the storm pelted his reflective gloves with rain, he wondered which sensation was more real. Where was Niya? He scanned the tents for her crimson-on-black robe. There. It only took a moment to reach her position. That moment was all it took for cries of alert to spring up all around them. He grabbed her by the hand and made for the nearest tent, one that hadn¡¯t made any noise yet. They entered, pushing through the flaps to find six stuffed bedrolls. He pointed at the three on the left. He crouched and methodically dealt with them before they could rouse. He glanced at Niya and she nodded, her side done. He motioned toward himself with his fingers and sliced through the back of the tent, creating a second flap that led out toward the cluster. ¡°Are you sure?¡± ¡°Scared, Samatkaeb?¡± She grimaced. ¡°Never again, my Ace.¡± ¡°Then keep your wits about you. We¡¯re improvising.¡± They ducked back out into the rain-drenched orchard and crossed two rows of tents before a half-dressed soldier in his boxers shouted at them, demanding to know why two Cathartes agents were this far inside the camp. Typhos left that one to Niya, turning his attention toward a bald man and a muscular woman in brown-and-yellow that had just entered his tachi¡¯s range. He stepped between them and laid a hand on Hagetaka¡¯s sheath, making no attempt at concealing hostility. The pair made no demands like the first soldier had. Instead they drew their swords and skipped straight to trying to kill him. He passed through them as they lunged, keeping his body perpendicular to dodge both strikes. Typhos slipped a knife out from underneath his glove and slashed across the back of the woman¡¯s hand. He wrapped one arm¡ª then two¡ª around the man¡¯s hands and put his entire body weight behind shoving the soldier¡¯s sword farther than he¡¯d ever intended to strike. The man cried out as his sword went through the woman¡¯s left breast and into her heart. His cry grew shrill and ragged as Niya came from behind and opened his neck. Typhos stepped out of the way as the man dropped his sword and pressed both hands to his neck, eyes bulging; screaming. Niya shoved him aside and he collapsed. ¡°You look bored,¡± he said, replacing his knife. He circled in place to make sense of the shouting and running amid the flashing rain and thunder. There was some semblance of organization near the outermost tents of the cluster, six or seven of the Shield¡¯s soldiers conversing at the intersection of three bunched-together tents. One pointed somewhere¡ª he wasn¡¯t sure at what exactly¡ª and another went running in that direction. Six was already too much for a pair of assassins. Unless they split them up. He could deal with three at once. Four was pushing it. ¡°And you look excited,¡± she said coolly. ¡°Split them up?¡± ¡°That¡¯s what I was thinking. I need you to¡ª¡± The distinct crack of a thunderflute split the air, but that wasn¡¯t what stopped him short. Right then, he glanced off into the tent rows and happened to catch sight of a Shield soldier running a lance through the chest of another Shield soldier. ¡°Was that Rixator¡¯s?¡± Niya asked. ¡°Change of plans,¡± Typhos said and yanked her into a run. ¡°We¡¯re leaving?¡± He didn¡¯t answer, focused on the darkness ahead. Where had that soldier gone? He didn¡¯t have to wait long to find out. From a blind spot behind a tent came a dark-mustached man in Shield garb. He swept his lance to ward off Typhos, rain spraying. Lightning illuminated the pink scar that ran horizontally across his face. ¡°I¡¯ve brought a kettle for the wake,¡± the soldier said. So that¡¯s what was going on. Even the veterans had refused to explain the full scope of the plan to him. He was just supposed to take them at their word that Kudlak would be fine diving into the ringwasp¡¯s nest by himself. He assumed that Calliphlox had been accompanying him since he hadn¡¯t seen the man all day¡ª which, admittedly, wasn¡¯t new. ¡°So you have,¡± Typhos said. ¡°Can I borrow you?¡± In response, the man thrust his lance at him. That was a serious attack, and would have pierced his shoulder had he not evaded. He stepped back, wary. This man was a Cathartes agent, was he not? He didn¡¯t recognize every single one¡ª there were thousands. But that stage of the plan was over. Shield soldiers were killing Shield soldiers. It didn¡¯t take a radio scientist to figure out what was going on. The Third would identify the false soldiers quickly and eliminate them. His forehead felt slick, not all from the rain. Was he wrong? ¡°You cannot,¡± he said. ¡°See to your task, as we must to ours.¡± He slowly backed away and withdrew. Niya said nothing¡ª she¡¯d lost weeks to Cherima too; she was probably as lost as he was. He filed the encounter into the back of his mind and set his sights on the soldiers at the outskirts of the tent cluster. Their group was eight strong now, a ninth en route to join them, their back to Typhos. Never put your back to Typhos. He approached without a sound, deliberately slowing each step just before his boots touched the mud. Then Hagetaka danced, slicing apart raindrops in freefall and plunging through the Shield soldier¡¯s back in one fluid motion. The body slid off his tachi down face-first into the mud as lightning flashed. A few of the group shied back as they saw him. He knew what he looked like. He bore what they called the emperor¡¯s own eyes, scarlet-red and afire as if glowing in the pitch-black. Typhos pulled his face mask down and gave them his most unnerving grin. Oh, he knew what they saw. What everyone always saw. Not a person. An instrument of death. He stepped on the back of the dying soldier. More than a few shouted angrily as he flicked his wrist to splatter blood sticking to Hagetaka onto the body below. He sheathed the blade and broadened his smile. Two livid-faced men broke formation, hammer and broadsword raised. That¡¯s right, he thought and let the smile slip. Lose your composure. He stood his ground and tilted his body. Heavyset Hammer charged like a bull, nearly stumbling in the mud as he clubbed empty space. Typhos took one step back to avoid gaunt-cheeked Broadsword¡¯s swing, then unsheathed his tachi and reclaimed the step, burying Hagetaka between the man¡¯s ribs. Hammer¡¯s nostrils flared; the man roared, swinging from the side. Typhos abandoned his stance and slid underneath Hammer. Mid-slide, he switched to a one-handed grip and slashed a half-moon arc. Blood leaked from Hammer¡¯s bicep, but he didn¡¯t go down. He kneed Typhos, who barely kept a handle on Hagetaka as he went tumbling to the ground. He found his feet and somersaulted just as the soldier¡¯s hammer crashed into the mud with a mighty roar and a clap of thunder, spraying puddled water like a boulder dropped into a lake. His landing wasn¡¯t perfect¡ª he splashed down on one knee, rolling out of the way of another slam of steel. Mud squelched all around him. The black sky flashed upon three more soldiers joining the fray. Breath hot and heart pounding, Typhos stopped thinking. Sink or swim. He threw himself at Hammer, leaping over a low swing. He grabbed onto the soldier¡¯s bulging right shoulder for leverage and jammed Hagetaka into the left side of Hammer¡¯s trapezius muscle like a fork plucking sausage. With a guttural grunt Typhos tore upward until he broke through bone and freed his tachi in a fountain of red. He brought his knees up and kicked off the screaming soldier¡¯s chest, using the abandoned handle of the hammer to vault over the chest-height cleave of a fresh opponent¡¯s axe. Biting wind and freezing rain buffeted him as he rolled and somersaulted around a relentless assault from the three new attackers. He sheathed Hagetaka and shook a knife free from both his wrists, flinging one through the eye of a wiry spearman and grazing the cheek of a broadsword-wielding woman with the other. The spearman was on his left, so he dove that way to avoid prune-faced Axe¡¯s next rain-spraying cleave. To his credit, the blinded spearman actually tried to strike him. The spear narrowly missed as Typhos angled his body out of its path and lunged at the female soldier. He unsheathed Hagetaka and tore through the yellow-throated part of her uniform, then spun around and buried the tachi in the back of Axe¡¯s neck. He couldn¡¯t get the blade out before the wiry spearman¡¯s thrust forced him to step back. Twice more the soldier thrusted as his comrades toppled over, but this time Typhos stood perfectly still. The loss of an eye had destroyed the man¡¯s aim. All that was left was to free Hagetaka and¡ª Arms like tree trunks wrapped tight around his chest, squeezing. He hadn¡¯t noticed the splashing sounds behind him in the chaos of battle and bodies toppling. He wasn¡¯t dead? Typhos thought, sweat and water beading down his forehead as he turned to face hammerless Hammer. The pressure increased, the hulking soldier¡¯s grip tightening. The man had to be lightheaded with all that blood gushing from his shoulder. He threw his head back, trying to hit Hammer¡¯s chin. No good, he wasn¡¯t tall enough. He glanced at the spearman. Lining up the killing thrust. No. Point-blank, tip to Typhos¡¯s heart. It wouldn¡¯t miss this time. No! The spearman had Jubi-ei¡¯s face. Then his father¡¯s. Korsak Vankka. Levian Vega. Suri. Calliphlox. More. NO! NOT HERE! He banished the faces and willed all his strength into pressing one arm against his chest and slipping it out the top. His glove fell off as he did so, and he pushed that bare, pale hand into the fountaining wound and clawed like a savage beast. Hammer passed out, arms loosened. Typhos grabbed one arm and held it like a shield to absorb the thrust, then threw himself out of the way. Hammer¡¯s corpse hit the earth with an enormous splash of grime-soaked water and soil. ¡°I will decide my death,¡± he growled, breathing hard. His rag cloak was coated in gore, trousers caked with mud. He trudged over to the heap that was once the axe-wielder and wrenched Hagetaka free. ¡°On my own terms. No one else decides. Only me.¡± An instrument of death, his song the frenetic drumbeat of freedom. 34 - Embers ¡°I have a question,¡± Velox said, voice bouncing off the walls of the dark sewer tunnel. ¡°Do you normally drop out of the sky, or is it like¡­ you know, special occasions only?¡± Cyrus blinked. Was he serious? ¡°Don¡¯t antagonize them,¡± Deen whispered. ¡°No, it¡¯s amusing. Please let that one ask the questions,¡± the wind-wielding stranger called from above, clinging to the metal rungs built into the rockface of a vertical shaft. She reached one bandaged hand into a deep square crevice cut into the rock and pulled out an oil lantern. She jumped down and added, ¡°Tell me. Have you seen me before?¡± ¡°We don¡¯t even know who¡ª¡± Deen began, but Velox put a hand over his mouth. ¡°I¡¯m asking the questions here, Daniels,¡± he said, pointing a thumb at himself for emphasis. As Velox shut his eyes and nodded to himself, the dark look on Deen¡¯s face made Cyrus think the ex-captain might gut the man with a spear right then and there. ¡°If I saw a sorcerer like you flying around, I think I¡¯d remember that.¡± ¡°Well. There¡¯s your answer.¡± She turned her palms over and started down the tunnel. The three of them followed after her. ¡°Special occasions only, captain. You. Hold this.¡± The bandaged woman lit the lantern and thrust it in Deen¡¯s face like one of the noblewomen of old passing a shopping bag to her valet. Deen opened his mouth, then seemed to reconsider and snatched it with a frown. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± Velox asked. ¡°I go by Argent these days,¡± she said. ¡°Is that a miss or mister Argent?¡± ¡°Not telling. I should take a poll. Man or woman?¡± She held out a fist and counted with slender fingers as she spoke. ¡°One, two, three.¡± ¡°Man?¡± Deen said. ¡°Woman,¡± Velox and Cyrus said. The captain slapped him lightly on the shoulder and made a thumbs up. He had no idea what that was about, but it was obvious from her mannerisms. ¡°Outvoted.¡± Argent glanced back. ¡°You don¡¯t sound as confident as those two.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve gone out of your way to hide it,¡± Deen said defensively. ¡°I¡¯m sorry if I¡¯m wrong.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not saying you¡¯re right or wrong.¡± Argent shrugged. ¡°But I suppose it is a tie. Your friend Luke also guessed I was a man.¡± Cyrus and Deen stopped walking. The others did as well in response. ¡°You knew him?¡± Cyrus whispered, head bowed. In the silence that followed, the constant flow of sewage beside the lanternlit walkway became deafening. It reminded him of the stone fountain of Cygnus where he and Luke had parted ways. His heart wrenched at the thought of the boy who¡¯d died trying to rescue him. ¡°I suppose,¡± Argent said slowly, ¡°it did look quite bad, didn¡¯t it?¡± She turned and pressed her palms together apologetically. ¡°I should have mentioned this sooner. Your friend survived the thunderflute¡¯s bolt.¡± ¡°We know he died,¡± Deen said, choking back sorrow. ¡°We¡­ What? What are you trying to say?¡± The churning river of sewage faded from his ears. Right then, Cyrus could not hear anything but the sound of Argent¡¯s wind-warped voice and the beating of his own heart. ¡°I¡¯m saying your friend is alive.¡± ¡°Prove it,¡± Deen said, hand shaking as he laid it upon the spear hanging over his back. ¡°If you¡¯re lying, I¡­ I will¡­ I don¡¯t care what kind of powers you have. I swear to the Flocks¡­ If you¡¯re lying to us¡­¡± ¡°Luke spoke fondly of you, Captain Deen Daniels. And of you as well, Cyrus.¡± She looked at Velox. ¡°Not sure who you are, though.¡± ¡°Velox,¡± he said. ¡°And if you¡¯re still taking my questions, I want to know how the kid¡¯s still kicking. Magic is magic, but what you¡¯re talking about is different. Talking about a miracle. Daniels told me the kid took the arrow from that flute thing through his heart.¡± ¡°No miracles here,¡± Argent said, waving a hand. Her fingers traced pinkish lines of light in the air. Cyrus stared open-mouthed at those lines, transfixed. Of all the countless unbelievable things he¡¯d seen in the last three weeks, this was the most beautiful. The light vanished after a few seconds. ¡°Just plain old magic.¡± ¡°But how?¡± Deen whispered. ¡°In most cases, a person can survive the heart¡¯s destruction for a few seconds. That¡¯s why I jumped in when I did. I repaired what critical components I could on the spot, but I needed more time to properly heal him. Apologies for kidnapping your friend.¡± ¡°Why were you there in the first place?¡± Velox asked. ¡°I was in the general area keeping an eye on what¡¯s been brewing between Mirastelle and Terra Daeva. I¡¯ve trained myself to sense other Weavers from a great distance. I was monitoring him. Assessing if he was a threat. As I think we sufficiently covered earlier, it¡¯s not every day you run into a Weaver.¡± ¡°Weavers? That¡¯s the name for people who can¡­¡± Velox flung his arms around a few times. ¡°You know?¡± ¡°Sure is. Daevans call it the Individual¡¯s Kingdom. I find that a little too wordy for my tastes.¡± ¡°You said you were sensing other Weavers,¡± Cyrus said. ¡°But that would mean that Luke is one.¡± ¡°It¡¯s true,¡± Deen said. ¡°Sorry for not telling you. I figured it wouldn¡¯t do any good.¡± He looked at Argent. ¡°I thought you were planning some kind of shady experiment with him.¡± ¡°You¡¯re saying Luke can do what she can?¡± he asked, amazed. Cyrus recalled seeing his friend drop from a second floor window and stand back up like it was normal. That hadn¡¯t been his imagination, had it? ¡°Not even close,¡± Argent laughed. ¡°Not for a long time. I plan to train him for the next several years. He¡¯s already agreed to learn the basics.¡± ¡°Train how?¡± Deen frowned. ¡°You¡¯d make a boy fight this war?¡± ¡°It¡¯s been tried,¡± she said quietly. ¡°Weavers waging war, exerting our wills on the world. I do not wish to return to those days. I thought the feeling was mutual, but¡­¡± ¡°The Daevans broke the peace,¡± Deen said. ¡°Didn¡¯t they? Those ampules I saw in Filose. That¡¯s Weaving.¡± Velox leaned over to Cyrus and whispered, ¡°Any idea what those two are going on about now?¡± ¡°No, sorry.¡± Velox nodded. ¡°Some sort of artificially-induced version, at least. I don¡¯t like them. I''m here to nudge things in Mirastelle''s favor until she explains herself." ¡°She?¡± ¡°No one of concern to you.¡± ¡°Fair enough,¡± Deen said. ¡°Luke won¡¯t fight, then?¡± ¡°I won¡¯t force him, but I¡¯m not his keeper. He can make his own decisions and deal with the consequences. I¡¯ll stop training him if he comes to view Weaving as a weapon. You can hold me to that.¡± ¡°I will.¡± The ex-captain bowed his head. ¡°You sound like you¡¯ve got a good head on your shoulders.¡± ¡°Really?¡± Velox snorted. ¡°Sounds more to me like she¡¯s got her head stuck in a fan.¡± Cyrus couldn¡¯t help himself. Maybe because he¡¯d bottled it all in for so long. The suffocating grayness inside him shattered like glass and he burst out laughing. It didn¡¯t take long for Velox and Argent to join in. Even the strait-laced ex-captain cracked a smile. Tears streamed down his cheeks and dripped off his chin. ¡°I¡¯m so glad,¡± he said, sniffing. ¡°I¡¯m glad that Luke is alive. That something good happened. Finally something good happened.¡± ¡°Where is Luke now?¡± Deen asked after a moment. ¡°Here in Ulciscor, at his insistence. He¡¯s already up and walking. I¡¯ll spare you the magician¡¯s lecture as to how. As to why, well¡­¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I understand. The how and the why.¡± The ex-captain sighed. ¡°Clipping kid has a knack for convincing you that bringing him along for dangerous things is a great idea.¡± ¡°I am keeping watch as best I can.¡± Argent turned her head and glanced upward. ¡°I can see him even from down here. He is traveling quite fast to the western end of the city, perhaps by automobile. Luke mentioned he was meeting with a woman who supposedly tried to kill him. I didn¡¯t get her name.¡± ¡°That¡­¡± Velox scratched his head. ¡°Sounds really stupid.¡± ¡°He assured me she was friendly.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± Deen said. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure he meant Aisha.¡± ¡°The Ahraran woman who interviewed us?¡± Cyrus asked. Deen nodded. ¡°He didn¡¯t think you would return here so soon,¡± Argent said. She began walking again, gesturing them to follow. ¡°I suspect we are all in this city for the same urgent reason.¡± ¡°Finding Mammon Rigel.¡± ¡°Indeed, Captain Daniels. I split up with Luke upon arriving to cover more ground in our investigation. I haven¡¯t found Rigel yet, but I am confident I know where he will be a little over two hours from now.¡± ¡°The conference,¡± Velox said, smacking palm and knuckles together. ¡°You¡¯ve been following the Guard¡¯s movements, haven¡¯t you?¡± Deen asked Argent. ¡°That¡¯s how you were able to find us. You used Major Cade¡¯s ambush.¡± ¡°You¡¯re a perceptive one. No wonder Rigel wants you dead.¡± ¡°So it¡¯s as bad as I thought. He¡¯s infiltrated the Guard, and not just the lower ranks. He has the ear of at least one major.¡± Deen frowned. Velox looked at him and emphatically shook his head. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. ¡°He proposed my execution!¡± Deen exclaimed. They both stopped walking and faced each other. ¡°I love that man the same as you, but look at what he¡¯s burdened the Guard with!¡± ¡°It¡¯s Major Jorgen Vasran you plucked fool!¡± Velox snapped, grabbing Deen by the collar. ¡°One of Ulciscor¡¯s most treasured soldiers, a dog of the Daevan Elites! Think about what that would do to the Guard! What if we¡¯re wrong and he¡¯s only being deceived? We need proof!¡± ¡°We don¡¯t have time for proof!¡± Deen shouted, grabbing his wrist. Cyrus could still hear Levian Vega snickering. Complete confidence in his ally¡¯s hiding place. Was the Guard going to tear itself apart? Argent spun around and snapped her fingers. The two men untangled, hands reaching for each other but rebuffed as if by a wall of air. No, not as if. There really was a wall of solid air separating them, wind rippling hair and clothes. ¡°Captain Daniels is right. We do not have time for this.¡± ¡°He¡¯s right though,¡± Deen said, still looking at Velox. There was a fire in the ex-captain¡¯s eyes. ¡°There has to be a way to tell them apart.¡± ¡°There is.¡± Argent started down the tunnel again, Cyrus and the others following her lead. ¡°It¡¯s tenuous, though. Not real proof.¡± None of them said anything, so she continued. ¡°I have been tracking Mammon Rigel¡¯s activities for quite a number of years. I believe he and his infiltrators were responsible for the disaster in the Proxima corridor.¡± ¡°What? You mean how Dalezen Altair vanished without a trace?¡± ¡°You know of it then, Captain Daniels?¡± ¡°Know of it? My father fought for Dalezen Altair. When I was a child, they told me he¡¯d been one of the few trying to keep the army together when everything was falling apart. He lost his life in the chaos before they could manage a retreat.¡± ¡°Did you know that most of Dalezen¡¯s highest-ranking guards disappeared a few weeks after that? They¡¯ve never been seen since.¡± ¡°What are you talking about? That never happened.¡± ¡°It did. You simply weren¡¯t told. After the corridor was taken, the Altairans were torn to ribbons. Communication broke down. Plenty of information was lost, some of it forever. Such losses were only a small part of the countless tragedies that followed when the Munitiod forces finally arrived in the region.¡± ¡°The Razing,¡± Cyrus whispered. ¡°Yes. If not for the disappearance of Dalezen, the Razing of Altair might never have happened. I investigated those guards, and the commonality I discovered was disturbing. A significant portion held a secretive adoration for Tapera, the Rigelese Flock. Those of Rigel and non-Rigel birth. Whether or not they¡¯d spent years living in Rigel. In contradiction of any public religious affiliation they may have had, though most I found did not.¡± ¡°Vasran¡¯s never been one to speak of the Flocks in more than the broadest sense,¡± Deen said. He met Velox¡¯s eyes. ¡°But that doesn¡¯t mean anything. Plenty of worshippers don¡¯t place one Flock above the rest.¡± ¡°It could be something as simple as a scroll in his office, a ring on his finger. Can you think of anything like that?¡± The frustration was plain on their faces. Shadows danced on the walls, cast by the lantern¡¯s flickering flame. It was clear that nothing was coming to mind, even after working under the man for years. ¡°Even the smallest detail would do,¡± she said. ¡°If they identify each other by their allegiance to the Tapera Flock, it could be something so subtle you wouldn¡¯t normally give a second thought.¡± Cyrus felt hopeless. If Mammon Rigel really instigated the Razing of Altair as Argent said, it meant that the man wasn¡¯t just the source of Castitas¡¯s suffering now, but nearly his entire life. And then it hit him. Trust me, they¡¯ll be just fine until we get back, Levian Vega laughed. That smug arrogance. He understood why Luke hated the man so much. Yet, in some twisted way, Cyrus was glad he met him. He was glad that, for the first time, the anguish and torment of all that time he spent in captivity meant something. He was glad that they invaded Castitas. He was glad for the Razing of Altair. Because if it wasn¡¯t for all of that, for all of the horrible, nightmarish things that happened to him and to all the people he loved, he wouldn¡¯t have been able to say this. You should have killed me when you had the chance. ¡°I know who one of the infiltrators is.¡± Everyone stopped. All eyes turned to Cyrus. ¡°You do?¡± Deen asked, amazed. ¡°Who?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t keep us in suspense kid,¡± Velox said. ¡°She drank from a colorless gourd,¡± Cyrus said quickly. ¡°They¡¯re exported everywhere, but they come from Rigel. It¡¯s just about the only thing you can grow there. And her earrings. I¡¯m not a hundred percent sure, but I think those were Tapera earrings.¡± Deen made a choking sound in his throat. ¡°You¡¯re¡­ awfully knowledgeable about gourds,¡± Argent said. ¡°Who?¡± Velox looked from Cyrus to Deen. ¡°Who!¡± ¡°Major Alexis Cade,¡± Cyrus said. ¡°Which division of the Guard does she command?¡± Velox pointed at a marking on his uniform, grimacing. He sighed and put an arm around Deen. ¡°Really wishing I hadn¡¯t decided to help you today, pal.¡± ¡°I have heard of this Cade woman,¡± Argent said. ¡°Impeccable swordsmanship and a brilliant mind for tactics. A troubling foe.¡± ¡°Think you could, you know, blow her down?¡± Velox asked. ¡°Gold mantle. Can¡¯t miss her.¡± ¡°I¡¯m afraid not. I need to be at that conference. Ensuring the safety of Maro Ren and Vander Wolf takes precedence.¡± ¡°We were planning to go there ourselves,¡± Deen said, walking beside Argent. The four of them started moving. ¡°The mayor and the general need to know about Mammon Rigel as soon as possible. And about Major Cade.¡± ¡°I wouldn¡¯t get your hopes up,¡± she said. ¡°I can¡¯t exactly stroll through the front doors of the Council Building. Nor can you.¡± ¡°Wolf will see me,¡± he argued. ¡°He has to, or the city is doomed.¡± ¡°Hold on,¡± Velox said. ¡°Daniels, which Wall is guarding your folks?¡± ¡°Really wishing you hadn¡¯t asked that.¡± ¡°You think Cade will use his family as hostages?¡± Argent asked. ¡°I think she¡¯ll do anything to stop Daniels from getting to that conference. Think about how much effort she spent on us earlier. Cade¡¯s cunning. You know that, Daniels. If coming to you won¡¯t work, then she¡¯ll try to drag you to her.¡± ¡°I¡¯m the only one who went to Filose with Wolf,¡± he said softly. ¡°It has to be me. I failed him once already. But my family is¡­¡± Cyrus remembered those three, Lyla and Rolan and Elinor. Meeting them was one of his last good memories in a long while. The Daniels residence was full of kindly people that did not deserve to be in harm¡¯s way. They¡¯d given him and Luke a warm place to stay when they had nowhere else to go. ¡°Leave them to us,¡± Cyrus said. ¡°I have an idea.¡± ¡ª¡ª¡ª Intermittent drizzling fell from the dark gray clouds hanging over Ulciscor as Luke listened to the hoofbeats of their carriage and the chattering throngs. Rectangular buildings several stories high of varying desaturated colors lined the streets, bunched together like books on a shelf. It felt like there were more people in the streets than ever; some in raincoats and umbrellas, others ignoring the downpour and simply going about their business. From the bits and pieces he overheard, civilians were anticipating a siege and assisting in the distribution of food, medicine, and weapons. There won¡¯t be a siege if the gates get thrown wide open, he thought. ¡°Nearly there,¡± Aisha said, drawing back the curtain to glance at the coachman and horses. She sat opposite Luke, legs crossed. The twin cerastes-design sheaths of the long knives hanging from her belt protruded prominently. ¡°This is the residential district she lives in.¡± ¡°I would have thought she¡¯d be somewhere more¡­ fancy.¡± ¡°Fancy? No. Zela has never been one for ostentation.¡± ¡°Still, you¡¯d think¡ª¡± Luke was cut off by a sound he imagined was like the crack of a hundred thunderflutes all firing at once. The carriage rattled and his ears rang. A ball of fire had replaced one of the building¡¯s double doors, dissipating into a thick plume of smoke. He Weaved Magenta into his ears, feeling a twinge of pain in his chest as he diverted even the tiniest fraction away from it. He Weaved it back into place as soon as he could hear the horses whinny with fear, the coachman frantically trying to soothe them. ¡°Zela!¡± Aisha shouted, holding one hand to her ear and standing. Luke nodded and made for the carriage door. She grabbed him by the arm and shook her head. ¡°No! It¡¯s dangerous!¡± He Weaved again, this time into her ears. It was the first time he¡¯d tried that on another person. It must have worked, because she lowered her hand and stopped shouting. ¡°It must be the same group that attacked us.¡± ¡°She¡¯s in there?¡± ¡°That was an explosive, Luke. They might have more.¡± ¡°Is she in there!¡± Aisha hesitated only a heartbeat longer before nodding. That was all he needed. Luke leapt out of the carriage, ignoring the coachman¡¯s shouts from behind and pushing through the wave of people scattering from the source of the explosion. Ahead, he spotted a soldier dressed in Ulciscor¡¯s silver and black, wearing a gas mask and gripping a sword. The soldier disappeared through the gaping hole of the entrance. Are you sure about this? It sounded like Luke¡¯s voice, but it wasn¡¯t. His legs froze. Flames licked the edges of those blasted-out doors and black, acrid smoke was billowing out into the street. Standing this close, he could feel terrible heat. It felt like¡­ like his back was burning. Like he could smell searing flesh. Like he could hear people screaming. The screams are real, he thought. There are people in there! He quashed his fear and took a step. Several onlookers were shouting at Luke, telling him to flee. Another step. Telling him that it wasn¡¯t safe. A third step. He understood that. Before he knew it, he was running. He crossed his arms over his face and plowed through the cloud of smoke. Weaving Green, he ducked underneath the swing of a sword and grabbed at the mask-wearing soldier¡¯s wrist. He was wearing some kind of specially-textured glove. Flame resistance, maybe? He tried squeezing down on the soldier¡¯s wrist but couldn¡¯t get them to drop the weapon. Deftly he slipped around their next strike and analyzed the room. The building was some sort of apartment, he guessed. A check-in desk, two doors, and a staircase. It was hard to make out anything else, the air becoming increasingly opaque from the smoke. The soldier in the gas mask chased him to the desk. He jumped and vaulted across the top, pressing one palm flat and throwing his lower half forward. He shifted to Blue for one heartbeat, pouring it all into the arm he¡¯d pivoted with. The attacker¡¯s sword thunked into the wooden surface inches from his arm, sending splinters flying. A woman huddled beneath the desk holding her hands over her head shrieked as Luke hit the floor beside her. A second explosion upstairs rocked the building, but it wasn¡¯t nearly as intense as the first. That was when Luke noticed the soldier¡¯s earplugs. These people knew exactly what they were doing. They planned these executions and they didn¡¯t care how many innocent people got dragged into it. He made a fist and tried Weaving Red, but it only electrocuted his arm and vanished. Come on! Why won¡¯t you let me use it? I¡¯m not the one stopping you, the voice said. Then who was? No time for that. The soldier finally lifted their sword, a piece of the desk breaking off as they forced it free. It was getting so hard to see through all the smoke. A rectangle of flames engulfed the wide doorway to the outside¡ª flames that had begun to crawl along the walls. He bolted for the staircase but skidded to a stop halfway to the staircase. The soldier wasn¡¯t pursuing him. He spun and saw the glint of the sword reflecting firelight, its wielder crossing around to the other side of the desk. He could hear the woman coughing, but he couldn¡¯t see her. She must have collapsed. Luke hadn¡¯t realized it until right then. To that soldier wearing the gas mask, there was no difference between him and the woman. They were both in the way. Nuisances to be cut down. He ran back, fast as he could. The soldier came into view, sword raised high. You¡¯re going to get hurt! the voice cried. Wait! As the blade fell, Luke stepped between them and cloaked his arm in a vambrace of Blue. The sword struck with a sound like shattering frost. ¡°If I can¡¯t even manage to save one person right in front of me,¡± Luke said, at first a whisper. He grabbed the blade wedged against his wrist with his other hand, gloving himself with invisible azure-blue. Wrestling for control, he finished at a shout, ¡°Then I have no business worrying about getting hurt!¡± He got both Blue-gloved hands around the blade and swayed from side to side as the soldier tried to shake him off. He lifted his legs and held on tight, putting his whole body weight on the weapon. They had no choice but to let go of the sword. It clattered out of Luke''s arms and he stumbled back. Barely able to find footing, he lifted another Blue vambrace to block a punch, then reached out and ripped the gas mask off. An unfamiliar man stared back at Luke, pushing him down and landing on top of him. One arm pinned down and soon to be two, he spun threads of Blue around his forehead and smashed it into the man¡¯s face. With a sound like crackling frost, blood ran down the man¡¯s nostrils and dripped onto Luke¡¯s face. The soldier¡¯s eyes rolled back as he lost consciousness. He wriggled out from underneath the man and was helping the woman hacking smoke to sit up beside him¡ª spinning threads of Magenta around both their lungs¡ª when Aisha arrived. ¡°Luke!¡± she called, one female soldier and two men in workclothes flanking her as they approached. All four held handkerchiefs to their mouths. ¡°Are you okay? What happened?¡± ¡°I¡¯m fine. There¡¯s more upstairs. Can one of you get her out?¡± Aisha patted one of the workmen on the shoulder and pointed at the woman. The man nodded and knelt down to help her. ¡°Let¡¯s hurry,¡± he said, taking Aisha¡¯s offered hand and standing. 35 - Experience Cyrus marched down the southside residential district of central Ulciscor as though he were an actual member of the Ulciscor Guard. He resisted the urge to tug at the tight collar of his silver and black recruit uniform and instead focused on banishing the suffocating grayness from his head. That murky, helpless feeling had returned not long after separating from Deen and Argent, but he refused to let it weigh him down any longer. There was a job to be done. Bolstering his confidence was the spindly blond man marching beside him, Captain Velox. Of all the soldiers Deen could have approached, he was turning out to be a rather nice choice. Despite Velox¡¯s complaining and constant vocalizing about how he¡¯d like to pretend none of this was happening and would rather be doing literally anything else, he was still here. Still trying to make sense of the confusing, outlandish events happening around him and offering solutions when problems arose. One such problem was how they were going to pass themselves off as agents of Mammon Rigel. It didn¡¯t take long to reach their destination, a tiny hole-in-the-wall shop with a sign on the front window reading Birds of a Feather. The captain slipped his wallet out from a belt pouch. He flipped it open, peeking inside with a sigh. ¡°There goes my night. The things I do for you people. Wait here.¡± He pushed the door open¡ª a bell above it chiming¡ª and left Cyrus alone with nothing but his thoughts. So many things were stuck in his head, eating at him like an insect tearing through a leaf bit by bit. Everyone in Castitas was probably dead by now. Why did Phaethon and the rest of the Flocks only allow him to make it through these ordeals? It wasn¡¯t fair. He was worthless. A chef? What a joke. Even that ruthless murderer made better meals than him. Enough. When was he going to stop feeling this way? Hadn¡¯t he just decided he wasn¡¯t going to let this get to him anymore? It was like the relief he felt hearing about Luke didn¡¯t even matter. Was he broken? The bell chimed again. ¡°That went well,¡± Velox said, digging into a paper bag. He glanced at Cyrus¡ª then stopped and stared. ¡°You all right?¡± How pathetic must he look? ¡°Yeah. Fine. What have you got?¡± Velox pulled out a necklace of glossy black beads and threw it on. The lowest bead was larger and shaped like the tufted head of a bird with a prominent white streak at the browline. He dug through the bag again and handed Cyrus a wide black bracelet of similar design. He slipped a hand through the bracelet and nodded to Velox. All they had to do now was put his idea to the test. The memory of that conversation in the sewers repeated in his mind as they began heading toward the Daniels residence. ¡°Absolutely not,¡± Deen had said. The ex-captain¡¯s face flickered with lanternlight as the four of them shuffled down the dark passageway. He sounded how he looked. Stressed like a taut rope. ¡°Why not?¡± Cyrus argued. ¡°I¡¯m sixteen. I¡¯m of age. This isn¡¯t like with Luke. I¡¯m an adult. I¡¯m allowed to make stupid decisions.¡± ¡°You¡¯re the age of a fresh recruit,¡± Deen said. ¡°We don¡¯t send our recruits out on life-risking missions like this. If they find out you¡¯re not one of theirs, they¡¯ll kill you. You understand that, right?¡± ¡°Of course I do.¡± He clenched a fist. ¡°But we don¡¯t have a lot of allies or options right now. Am I wrong?¡± Deen opened his mouth, then closed it. ¡°He¡¯s got a point, Daniels,¡± Velox said. ¡°I¡¯ll go with him. It¡¯s gotta be safer than the Council Building. Agreed?¡± Deen sighed a long sigh. ¡°Why do I even try?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll get the word out about you,¡± Velox said. ¡°And I¡¯ll see if I can do anything about Seras. No promises.¡± ¡°Captain Daniels,¡± Argent said. ¡°You have faith in this plan. Your objections lie with who¡¯s carrying it out. Can you explain your faith? I am not entirely convinced.¡± ¡°Daevan communications aren¡¯t the best. Cyrus and I watched Major Cade fight members of Cathartes. So it isn¡¯t easy to identify Mammon¡¯s soldiers. As long as they keep things vague, they should be able to get the guards to leave.¡± ¡°Those are members of two separate branches of the empire. What about within the same branch? You believe the Silhouette¡¯s agents cannot identify fellow conspirators? I have my own opinion on this, but I am curious to hear yours.¡± ¡°If they¡¯re as covert as you say, it would stand to reason that they have a hard time doing so. The Tapera keepsakes are probably the only way of proving membership. Else, why do they all have things like that in the first place? Purely for belief?¡± ¡°I am of a similar mind. I¡¯ve never had the opportunity to test that theory, however. It is certainly a dangerous proposition.¡± ¡°And¡­¡± Deen said, trailing off. ¡°And?¡± Argent prompted. ¡°Cade said something. She split up right before those Cathartes assassins attacked us in Filose¡­¡± Deen ran a hand down his face. ¡°How could I be so stupid? Playing a part. Acting like you belong. She was talking about how Rigel¡¯s agents blend into Ulciscor.¡± ¡°Then there¡¯s no room for doubt,¡± Cyrus said. ¡°This¡¯ll work.¡± ¡°And if it doesn¡¯t, I¡¯ll be right there with you to get us out,¡± Velox said, patting him on the back. ¡°Daniels knows I¡¯m good at giving the Guard the slip whenever I¡¯m in trouble.¡± As Deen was shaking his head in disbelief, the memory vanished. Cyrus had bumped into a man carrying stacks of timber. He mumbled an apology and ducked past, rejoining Velox. He¡¯d been confident at the time, but as the moment drew near, doubt choked Cyrus. He was in over his head. Every fiber of his being was screaming that this plan was going to go horribly wrong. ¡°You think I¡¯m gonna die for you?¡± Cyrus looked up. ¡°I didn¡¯t say any¡ª¡± ¡°It¡¯s written all over your face. Has been ever since we came out of the tunnel. Nothing I haven¡¯t seen before.¡± Velox pulled his over to a bench and they sat down. ¡°Survivor¡¯s guilt, our mind doctors call it. Worse than death, some say.¡± ¡°Who says?¡± he whispered. ¡°Who do you think?¡± Velox said, not meeting his eyes. Instead, he tilted his head up to watch the dark clouds rumble past. The drizzling rain had begun to fall again. ¡°Daniels told me a bit about what you¡¯ve been through.¡± Cyrus recalled how two captains stepped apart to chat after the group had resurfaced from the sewer system. He found it odd how subdued Velox looked back then. ¡°Happens to soldiers. A lot of soldiers. There was a man recently, one of Daniels¡¯s. Name¡¯s Svall. Svall¡¯s a good man, but I don¡¯t know if I¡¯ll ever be able to drink and roll dice with him again. Well. Sooner or later, it¡¯ll be my turn. Maybe then.¡± He sighed deep. ¡°Oh, we¡¯re promised a pretty pension from Ranboc, but sometimes I find myself wondering if it¡¯ll be worth it.¡± ¡°Is this supposed to be helping me, sir?¡± ¡°Nah. Course not. Maybe Svall can talk with you though. I want you to meet him if we make it through the day.¡± Velox stood. ¡°Anyway, I¡¯m not dying on you. That¡¯s a promise, kid. I¡¯ll run and leave you to the wolves to save my own hide. Unlike everybody else in your life, I¡¯m not a good role model. I have a life to live and plenty of debauchery to¡­ uh, debauch myself with. I think that¡¯s a word. So don¡¯t worry about it. No heroism from me, that¡¯s for sure.¡± ¡°Thanks?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t mention it.¡± Velox patted him on the shoulder and smiled. ¡°Ready for the bluff? I¡¯m good at these, you know.¡± Cyrus got up. ¡ª¡ª¡ª Luke and Aisha stood attentively, facing Major Zela Linden. To be honest, when Aisha said she¡¯d try asking ¡®some friends¡¯ for help, he hadn¡¯t expected it to be the entire West Wall. He really should have. The major sat upon a bench, adjusting the silvery greaves of her armor. Her brow was coated with sweat and a riveted helm marred by blood rested beside her. Multiple thick plumes of smoke hung over rows of buildings two streets off, a flickering orange glow battling the darkness of the cloud cover. Firefighters and guardsmen darted this way and that, but he knew there was an order to the chaos. He¡¯d watched Linden respond to the assassination attempt with a calm voice and a fury behind her eyes. By the time they¡¯d reached her, she¡¯d already dispatched one of two would-be killers with the freshly-cleaned broadsword leaning against the bench. The second was one of her captains. Linden was keenly interested in knowing the man¡¯s co-conspirators. She¡¯d incapacitated him by breaking his arm and cracking one of his ribs. According to Linden, they¡¯d missed catching her unprepared by a minute or so. She¡¯d been on edge ever since she tried to talk Wolf out of going to Filose. Doubly so after he returned to Ulciscor with an entourage of strange people that kept to themselves and wouldn¡¯t answer any of her questions. ¡°I¡¯ll need your help, Major Fibian,¡± Linden said, looking at Aisha. She folded her arms, gauntlets clinking. ¡°You¡¯re good at probing people. I need to make sure my ranked men are clean of traitors if we are to enact your plan.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not much of a plan.¡± Aisha pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one, then replaced the pack and took a drag before continuing. ¡°I just want to throw you all at these featherless fools. Make them tip their hand before they¡¯re ready to. With any luck, they¡¯ll be just as confused as us.¡± Major Aisha Fibian¡ª apparently¡ª had proposed a daring assault on the Ulciscor Council Building using about half of the West Wall¡¯s forces. Earlier, she¡¯d pulled aside three of the firefighters and sent them on separate missions to deliver special instructions to the Rear reserves. It sounded like they were supposed to stay still and reinforce the West Wall if it came under attack. Luke heard a few code phrases, probably to identify the message actually came from Aisha. A runner approached the three of them, saluting Linden. ¡°The captain is ready to receive you, major,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯ve finished patching him up already?¡± Linden asked, sounding smug. ¡°Very well. Fibian, you¡¯ll help?¡± Aisha nodded as the runner returned to her post. Linden stood and Luke moved to follow. ¡°Wait here, boy,¡± the armored major said. ¡°I appreciate your help, but there¡¯s nothing you can do for an interrogation.¡± ¡°But if you¡¯re both attacked again¡­¡± ¡°Luke,¡± Aisha said. ¡°We¡¯re not worried about that. There are some things in this world you¡¯re better off not knowing.¡± She leaned in close and whispered into his ear. ¡°Such as how persuasive a woman can be when she needs to know something.¡± He flushed, backing away.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡± ¡°It means,¡± Linden said, smiling sweetly, ¡°we don¡¯t really care about what acts are and aren¡¯t forbidden by the Agreement right now, seeing as how we¡¯re being invaded and all.¡± ¡°The Tapera hint you gave us is enough,¡± Aisha said, patting him on the shoulder and pushing him down onto the bench. ¡°Take a break, kid. You deserve one. There¡¯s still a lot of work to be done.¡± ¡°Fine.¡± He nodded. ¡°If you remember anything else, tell her,¡± Linden said, gesturing at the runner standing nearby. ¡°She¡¯ll bring it to us. That woman is my personal armorer. I trust her with my life.¡± And so, they left him alone with his thoughts. He put his head back, watching the dark clouds overhead with a worried feeling. It could start raining again any moment. That didn¡¯t bode well. Never did. You always put so much stock in the sky. Like some kind of fortune-telling. A superstitious sort, aren¡¯t you? Hearing his own voice speak when he hadn¡¯t spoken sent a chill down his spine. He swallowed hard and clenched his fists under his cloak. It wasn¡¯t something to be afraid of. Can you hear me? Please. A name. Do you have a name? Silence. More silence. He waited, motionless. Breathless. ¡°Please,¡± he pled, a whisper. Synthesis. The word felt important. Somehow, he could tell. What did it mean? Synthesis. That is my name. And Argent was right. I do not like you. Why not? You are selfish. ¡°Selfish!¡± he blurted out, sitting up. He caught the armorer¡¯s eye and flushed, faking a cough and turning the other way. What makes you say I¡¯m selfish? I¡¯m using your power for others, aren¡¯t I? Turning back to save that woman, for instance. It left you with no time to intercept Zela Linden¡¯s attackers. ¡°It worked out, didn¡¯t it?¡± he mumbled, swinging his legs. You had no reason to believe it would. The opposite, in fact. You saw what happened at Aisha¡¯s residence. You risked everything so you could play the hero of the hour. It was self-centered. I was trying to do the right thing. The right thing to do was abandon her. This so-called Synthesis sounded cold as he said it. If you want to make a difference, you¡¯re going to have to learn about responsibility. Else the people of Ulciscor will slip through your fingers like sand as you try to grasp each and every grain. He hesitated, studying his palm. Luke remembered the unseen shape impressed upon it, like a crudely-drawn sun. What would happen if he didn¡¯t see eye to eye with this being? You disagree? That is fine. How can you tell? I can feel your emotions. To an extent. How¡¯s that? Luke asked. He hunched forward and folded his hands. We are linked, you and I. Chained together. ¡®Weaver¡¯ is an apt description, as Argent calls it. Our beings woven as one by threads of Cyan. He breathed deep. It didn¡¯t help. It could sense this, the anxiety he felt? His back tingled, prickling pins of an uncomfortable heat. I will say this much. It is not my intention to force or coerce you. Merely to guide you, unworthy successor. Are you going to talk to me from now on? That is up to you. You are the one that shut me out in the first place. I never did anything like that. If you say so. Before he could press Synthesis further, Aisha returned. She waved him over, surrounded by runners in silver and black darting this way and that, carrying messages and orders to soldiers of the West Wall. ¡°You¡¯re done already?¡± ¡°It doesn¡¯t take that long to¡­¡± Aisha trailed off. ¡°Well, never mind.¡± What did they do to him? Look underneath her fingernails. Dark stains. Blood. He paused. He hadn¡¯t expected a response from the voice. You can hear all my thoughts? Luke asked it. Only your loudest ones. So you can notice details like that? he asked, curious. How do you see? I think that human is talking to you. ¡°Are you listening?¡± Aisha asked. ¡°Luke?¡± ¡°What? Sorry.¡± ¡°You were spacing out. If you need more rest, wait until we¡¯re in the automobile. They¡¯re sending it over now. We¡¯re ready to head for the Council Building. Are you sure you¡¯re up for this?¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± He ignored the dull thumping of his chest wound. ¡°I am.¡± How about you, Synthesis? I do not see why you are asking me. Er¡­ I¡¯m just being friendly. We are not friends, unworthy successor. You are nothing to me. Well, at least Luke wasn¡¯t going crazy. There is a voice in his head. And it hates him. Great. ¡ª¡ª¡ª The Daniels residence looked much as Cyrus remembered it, a worn-down brick building, its red color faded from the decades. All the homes around were like that; the surrounding blocks constituted a section of the old city that survived the war, before huge walls and fortified stone structures sprouted up around them. Two soldiers were still on the stoop; one sitting, another standing, but the rest were nowhere to be seen. Were they gone? ¡°There were four this morning,¡± Cyrus said in a low voice. ¡°Called away on other business, I¡¯d wager,¡± Velox said. ¡°Makes this easier. Lucky us.¡± He winked and strode into view of the building¡¯s stoop. Cyrus steeled his heart and together they approached. ¡°Who are you supposed to be?¡± the upright soldier called as the two drew close, a bob-haired woman with a muscular build. ¡°Your relief,¡± Velox said to her. ¡°Is that so?¡± she asked, glancing at the markings denoting rank on Velox¡¯s uniform and adding ¡°Captain.¡± Almost as an afterthought. ¡°We¡¯ve been ordered to guard this residence until day¡¯s end. I¡¯m afraid I must turn you away, sir.¡± The implication was clear. She was pulling rank. The only thing that could supersede a captain was a major or General Wolf himself. ¡°I¡¯m on major¡¯s orders, too. Cade has need of you.¡± Velox shifted, and the Tapera necklace he wore caught the light of a street lantern, one of those enabled early by city workers to beat back the darkness of those ominous, undulating clouds above. The woman noticed then, Cyrus could see the recognition twist her expression from dismissive to interested. Yes, Velox was no mere captain of the enemy. Not someone she could brush off with a wave of the hand. An ally. A strange, unexpected one, but an ally nonetheless. Then she looked at him. And he stared right back at her. No one¡­ no one could ever put fear in him the way that assassin did. She searched him with a cold gaze, eventually making her way to the bracelet on his wrist. Seeing that satisfied her, and she turned back to Velox. ¡°What is the task?¡± ¡°Didn¡¯t ask,¡± Velox said. He flipped his hands and shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t question her. Says to jump, I jump. You know?¡± ¡°You should be more respectful,¡± the sitting man muttered. ¡°Of Ace Cade.¡± Cyrus was glad that neither of them had been looking at him just then, sheer surprise painted plain on his face. Velox hid it much better¡ª a skill picked up from all that gambling he does, maybe. ¡°Never know who¡¯s listening. Well.¡± He rubbed the back of his head and laughed. ¡°Old habit at this point, I suppose.¡± ¡°Indeed,¡± the woman said. She sighed. ¡°What are the higher-ups thinking? We already spared Andrews. Must we?¡± ¡°I will stay,¡± the male soldier said, rising. He had an unfortunate chin and a dangerous expression. The leather sheath of a long knife hung from his belt. He met Velox¡¯s eyes. ¡°I do not trust this half-wit.¡± ¡°Her orders¡ª¡± ¡°Probably got mixed up inside that half-witted brain of yours. You are telling us to abandon a post that we were instructed to hold at all costs. And I will do so. At all costs.¡± ¡°Gamos. That¡¯s enough,¡± the woman said. ¡°You¡¯re fine with this?¡± the man asked, sneering. ¡°She tasked us in person. In person. Do you know how many years it¡¯s been since we last spoke with her? How many years since we were dropped into this Flocks-forsaken dump?¡± ¡°I¡­¡± she trailed off. ¡°We were told this job was important. I will not entrust it to a half-wit and a child.¡± ¡°Call me that one more time,¡± Velox growled, stepping closer. ¡°Yeah?¡± The man stepped closer as well. Inches apart, enough to smell each other¡¯s breath. ¡°What are you going to do about it?¡± Two voices protested, but a third cut through both. His own. ¡°Are you questioning?¡± It was a low hiss, as if from a venomous swirlsnake. It surprised all of them, including Cyrus himself. He remembered in a flash¡ª a traumatized young man on a dusty street in the middle of nowhere, terror all around him. He grabbed that memory and crumpled it into a ball, making fists at his sides. Enough of this. I¡¯m done being afraid. Done waiting to be saved. All three stopped to watch him. ¡°Are you questioning Ace Cade?¡± he demanded. ¡°Do you think she made a mistake?¡± ¡°My Ace? Never,¡± the man said, stepping back. ¡°Is your opinion of them so little?¡± he asked softly. ¡°Aces aren¡¯t like you or me. They live in a whole different world from us. They are the ones who will inherit everything forged by Emperor Munitio and the Elites. They are the most capable, competent, ruthless people in all of Asundria. We¡¯re pieces in a game to them. Whether we serve or run or live or die means nothing to them. It terrifies me to my core. It should terrify you, too. Think carefully, very carefully, before you consider that an Ace has made a mistake. Question an Ace at your own peril. It might be the last question you ever ask. So tell me. Gamos. Are you questioning Ace Cade?¡± He hissed the last part. Velox and the male soldier¡¯s mouths hung open after he finished. The woman nodded to herself. ¡°¡­No,¡± Gamos finally croaked. He swallowed. ¡°No. Of course not.¡± ¡°Then serve the cause.¡± ¡°I¡­ I will.¡± The man¡¯s eyes were wide, and he looked from the woman to Velox. ¡°Where are we to report?¡± ¡°The intersection of Benth and Fulk,¡± Velox said. The pair headed off without another word. Velox and Cyrus made a show of taking up their post, scanning the street with their backs to the house. ¡°Where did you send them?¡± Cyrus asked quietly. ¡°Other end of central Ulciscor. We¡¯ve got a good fifteen minutes or so before they show up and find nobody there.¡± Velox studied him. ¡°You saved our hides. That was well done. Where¡¯d you pull all that from?¡± He unclenched his fists. His hands were shaking. Badly. ¡°Experience,¡± he whispered. Velox laid a hand on his shoulder and spun him halfway so they faced each other. He gave Cyrus a smile. ¡°You did good. Daniels will be grateful.¡± He nodded toward the front door. ¡°Hard part¡¯s over. Let¡¯s get in there.¡± ¡ª¡ª¡ª Vander Wolf stepped out of the automobile and adjusted the high collar of his sharp silver and black uniform. His driver, dressed much the same, joined him shortly. The young man was calling after him. ¡°Lord Wolf, please! Let us do our job!¡± ¡°Don¡¯t call me that,¡± he said, sour-faced. The sound of a dying frog echoed behind him from a rear door of the automobile. It was Yulania laughing, of course. Wingless woman. Why he¡¯d brought her along, he never¡­ ¡°It all goes to the boy¡¯s head, you know,¡± she said. She still named him boy sometimes, despite being old enough for grandchildren. ¡°Every time you remind him of who he used to be.¡± Vander acknowledged her with a glance. An elderly woman with a steel-gray bun of hair and wrinkled like a raisin. Most people would have gotten the full general¡¯s glare, but he¡¯d¡­ rather not try that against Yulania. No, best not. Best not. ¡°I used to be a lot of things,¡± he said to the young driver. Both he and Yulania were dressed in silver and black, but did not have markings designating their rank. ¡°The nobility is no more, Bartman. It¡¯s not coming back. It shouldn¡¯t. The emperor is right about that.¡± A hard-faced woman appeared from the last door of their automobile and crossed over to stand at his side. Yulania joined them, balancing herself steadily on a black lacquered cane with a white wolf¡¯s head handle. A second automobile bearing more of the rankless pulled to a stop nearby. As they shuffled out, he turned to regard the looming building before them. Wide stone steps led up to western Mirastelle¡¯s primary seat of government, the Ulciscor Council Building. Informally, it was known as the UCB. It was the most impressive of its peers in the city, rising high into the sky on pillars of marble and bearing impossibly wide glass windows. Neither side had been willing to bring this architectural marvel down during the war. Eight stories, he knew. There was to be a ninth, but he¡¯d put an end to that plan. He remembered those last days of the old order. Dark, decadent times, so long ago now. When the architects who built marvels such as this were considered lesser than those fools born into princedom. A meritocracy was the only path forward for humanity. He truly believed that. That was why he¡¯d accepted Amon Munitio¡¯s offer. Why he¡¯d become of the Elites. He nodded and started forward into the building, flanked by seven of the most merited and loyal men and women he had ever known. 36 - Naivety Velox pushed open the door to the shabby red-bricked house and crept inside, Cyrus trailing after him. Wall lamps flickered softly along dim orange walls, casting shadows around them as they advanced down the corridor. The guardsman had one hand on the spear slung around his back, grip tight. Every flickering shadow made Cyrus¡¯s heart leap. They came upon a closed wooden door and Velox nodded toward it, keeping an eye on the darkness further down the corridor. Cyrus put his hand on the handle. Velox set his spear ahead of himself as best he could and nodded again. He couldn¡¯t stop it from creaking as it swung open. He stepped out of the way and peered through the gap between Velox and the doorframe. The room was brighter than the hallway, lit up by an even-tempered fireplace, iron poker resting against the stones. He saw an elderly woman with white-streaked hair and disheveled clothing, arms and legs bound against a chair she sat upon. A strip of cloth tied around her head and stuffed into her mouth would prevent her from speaking, but she didn¡¯t seem to be awake. Elinor Daniels¡¯s head was bowed, and her eyes were closed. Velox stepped inside, lowering the spear. As Cyrus entered the room proper, he saw two other chairs holding Lyla, some brown liquid and bits of food spilled over her light pink blouse¡ª as well as Rolan, Deen¡¯s uncle, thick-framed spectacles near to falling off his face. Lyla was awake, and her eyes opened wide when she saw Cyrus. Velox slipped his belt knife free and passed it to him. ¡°Get them free,¡± he whispered. ¡°I¡¯ll keep watch.¡± The guardsman positioned himself between the two doors that led into the room after softly shutting the one they¡¯d used. He stood in a corner and held his spear out in some sort of combat stance Cyrus didn¡¯t know, appearing quite tense. He worked the knife on Lyla¡¯s arm bindings. It was slow and deliberate. He was afraid of hurting her by accident. When the first arm came free, she reached up and tore the gag off, blinking exhaustion out of her eyes. He moved onto her legs, crouching, as she rubbed her wrists alternately with the other palm. ¡°Sorry,¡± he whispered. ¡°We knew this could happen someday,¡± she said softly. Her throat sounded raw, as if from shouting. ¡°My husband is a captain. Here.¡± She held out her hand for his knife. ¡°I¡¯ll get Aunt and Uncle. Thank you.¡± Lyla took the knife and rose on wobbly legs. Long dark brown hair tumbled over her face and around her shoulders. He¡¯d forgotten how tall she was as she made her way to Rolan¡¯s chair and went down on one knee to get at his ropes, cutting him free much faster than he could. Just like that, he felt useless again. It was like there was a switch in his head he could flip to feel like himself again, but as soon as he relaxed, it turned off again on its own. ¡°Is there anyone else inside?¡± Velox asked, eyes glued to the second door. ¡°None of ours,¡± Lyla said. ¡°I¡¯m not sure.¡± Were there? Something teased at Cyrus. He forced that switch to move and thought. He thought back to the morning. How many soldiers were there? He really thought about it. It was all he could do. Four, he remembered. Two sitting, two standing. We already spared Andrews¡­ One name. Two soldiers. ¡°There¡¯s a fourth,¡± he whispered. ¡°Velox, I¡ª¡± Too late. The door beside him¡ª the one they¡¯d entered from¡ª swung wide open. Hard, fast, nearly cracking him in the shoulder. Through it burst a fourth man in the Guard¡¯s uniform, face thunderous, steel sword flashing in the firelight. Staring at Cyrus. And he stared back, stock-still, at his own death. ¡°Get down!¡± someone shouted. Velox. ¡°GET DOWN!¡± He fell backward, flat on his ass. Velox¡¯s spear diverted the sword¡¯s path. Cyrus scrambled out of the way as their weapons clanged against one another a second time. Velox was not so lucky a third time. They were too close, and the spear¡¯s advantage had become disadvantageous. The sword took him in the side and he cried out. A booted thump to the gut tossed him to the floor, thudding hard. Another stomp came down hard on Velox¡¯s fingers, and he cried out again, louder. Memories of another firelit massacre flashed through Cyrus¡¯s mind. No. No, no, no. Not again. Not again! He would not watch that again! Cyrus threw himself at the man, tears in his eyes. Distract him for a moment. It was all he could think of. It wouldn¡¯t work. Velox was pinned down by the man¡¯s other foot. He was going to die. They all were. But on Phaethon¡¯s Honor, he tried. He tried this time, and that gave him peace. The soldier turned and swung that terrible blade at him. He squeezed his eyes shut, tears leaking¡ª I¡¯m sorry, Father. I hope you¡¯re all okay. I¡¯m going on ahead. ¡ªand opened them to the sight of the soldier looking off to the side, open-mouthed with horror as a man with thinning gray hair bellowed and rammed a long, thin weapon through the soldier¡¯s stomach and into the door behind him. The soldier hit the door with a crash, sword clanging to the floor. Old Rolan. With the fireplace poker. Lyla was on the man a heartbeat later, dragging the knife across his neck, blood spraying all over her blouse. ¡°You bastard,¡± she hissed at the dying man. His eyes were glassy, mouth frozen open in surprise. ¡°This is a soldier¡¯s family.¡± ¡ª¡ª¡ª Luke stared lazily out the automobile window, watching buildings and people and horse-drawn carriages pass by in a blur. Some gawked at them. It wasn¡¯t every day you saw so many automobiles traveling together, even in the city. Some among their group were rather large and boxlike, all clustered together. They were packed full of two hundred or so ¡®trustworthy enough¡¯ soldiers from the West Wall to accompany them as they knocked on the door, so to speak. The window was rolled up, it was far too chilly outside to keep it down. Automobiles. He hated these things, but Flocks were they efficient at getting from place to place. Are you there, Synthesis? For a very long time. The voice sounded bitter. Do you want something? What do you think about what we¡¯re doing? This Vander Wolf business? Verifying that human commander¡¯s intentions? It is a fine idea. Humans are capable of unspeakable acts. I have seen such things firsthand. If you have a hunch that one is poised to stab you in the back, all the better to strike first. It¡­ sounds like you don¡¯t trust us humans very much.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Of course not. Synthesis thought, its voice like Luke¡¯s, only slightly off, as if the pitch were constantly shifting up and down. On the subject, since I have heard you thinking about it, whether or not I trust you has no bearing on your weaving. Your inability to draw upon the Red you channel through me is a problem of your own making. What am I doing wrong? It is always something emotional with you humans. Try starting there. You don¡¯t actually know? Luke thought. It is a muscle of sorts, the mechanism by which you pull the colors through me. If something were wrong with that, I would know. The cause must be in that head of yours. ¡°Are you talking to it?¡± Aisha whispered, leaning over from the seat beside him. Her breath smelled like smoke, a flowery perfume quickly taking its place. Flocks, she was close. ¡°How can you tell?¡± he asked. ¡°You keep making all sorts of faces. It¡¯s really easy, actually.¡± He¡¯d told her about the voice earlier. Major Linden and her armorer had overheard, those two were sitting up front. The armorer¡ª Seila, her name was¡ªwas the one driving. Aisha trusted them both, so he¡¯d filled them all in on his being a Weaver, and of the recent conversation he¡¯d had earlier with Synthesis. He¡¯d asked Synthesis if it was okay for him to reveal its existence, and it didn¡¯t seem to care one way or the other. ¡°I asked it about General Wolf,¡± Luke said. ¡°Synthesis doesn¡¯t have much faith in people. Says you should deal with someone before they can stab you in the back.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not so easy,¡± Aisha said softly. ¡°When you owe said someone your life. I¡¯d like to ask Vander directly. Even if it means we have to break down the mayor¡¯s door in the middle of the meeting.¡± ¡°I¡¯m of the same mind,¡± Linden agreed. ¡°There is no mistake that there is a conspiracy in this city. Mammon Rigel himself lurks within our walls. We are on the eve of war. Today of all days there can be no doubts. If he is innocent, he will understand.¡± ¡°And if he is guilty,¡± Aisha whispered, so quietly Luke wasn¡¯t sure if he was meant to hear it. ¡°I will bear the sin.¡± Through the window, he could see the Council Building drawing ever closer. It was the tallest building in the city, though it still paled in comparison to some of the richer sections of Aetas Origo. Those castles and mansions loomed over you, whereas this square stone tower seemed to watch over its cousins like a dutiful knight on a night patrol. Was it really almost five-thirty o¡¯clock? Aisha¡¯s pocket watch said as much when he glanced over, hearing her click it open. The sky looked as if it could be midnight. He supposed the sun was setting soon, not that anyone would be able to tell amid that sea of rumbling black clouds. Just over thirty minutes until the conference started. Are you nervous? Synthesis asked. Yeah. I am. About what we¡¯ll find. If Vander Wolf is Mammon Rigel, I don¡¯t know if we can protect Ulciscor. I see. Defending a great number of humans from tyranny and paying a debt you feel you owe to that Deen Daniels fellow. This is what drives you? Well¡­ yes. So small. The voice scoffed. Weren¡¯t you listening to Argent? Luke thought. About using the colors to protect what¡¯s important to me? I won¡¯t become a destroyer. I promise you that. I will do good with this thing we are. Yes, I was listening. It was the one piece of advice that human gave you that was utterly stupid. I could not believe it came from the same mouth as that nice metaphor about the flask. Such naivety. Luke¡¯s jaw fell open. He quickly closed it before Aisha could notice. What are you talking about? he thought heatedly. They will use you, it said. These humans around you. When they find out what you can really do. It will happen. They will turn you loose on that empire. They won¡¯t, he protested. These are good people. And you are a good tool. A perfect one, in fact, for smiting their foes. I have never known humans to shy away from a tool they can use to crush or subjugate other humans. It is practically your defining characteristic as a species. It was peaceful before¡­ when we had the Asundrian Union¡­ Merely what children are taught. You are becoming a man soon. It is time to grow up and see the world for what it really is. That Union was born in blood and maintained with massacres. They will use you the same way. A hammer without a nail is just a waste. He didn¡¯t know what to say to any of that. So he didn¡¯t speak¡ª out loud or with his mind¡ª for the rest of the trip. It was silent, aside from the rumbling of their wheels and the occasional distant clap of thunder, until Major Linden announced that they had finally arrived. A blockade of soldiers and cordons was waiting for them. ¡ª¡ª¡ª ¡°Please don¡¯t die,¡± Cyrus begged, face streaked with tears. He was sitting on his knees. ¡°Please.¡± ¡°Pressure here,¡± Lyla said to Rolan, indicating Velox¡¯s wound. When he pressed his hand down where she indicated, she backed away and pulled open the door without a corpse hanging off it, leaving the room in a hurry. Cyrus didn¡¯t think there were any more soldiers, and the three of them as captives hadn¡¯t seen more than the four he described. But they still had to leave as soon as possible. ¡°Are you okay, dear?¡± Elinor placed a gentle hand on his back. ¡°I am sorry my husband and niece gave you such a fright.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not your fault,¡± he said, another set of tears rolling down. ¡°I did this to him. I did it again.¡± He buried his face on the floor. He was so exhausted. So tired of people dying on his behalf. What was he? Nobody. Nothing. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± A hand fell on his knee. Cyrus raised his head. ¡°Don¡¯t kill me off yet,¡± Velox whispered. ¡°Stupid kid¡­¡± ¡°Don¡¯t talk,¡± Elinor said softly. ¡°Save your strength, young man. That was a brave thing you did. Both of you.¡± ¡°We were supposed,¡± Velox croaked, ¡°to rescue¡­ you people. This is a bit¡­ backwards, don¡¯t you think?¡± He laughed weakly, then grunted in pain. ¡°Flocks Above. I need a drink.¡± Their eyes met. ¡°Relax. We¡¯re fighters. We know the risks. We do it anyway.¡± Cyrus nodded slowly. Velox closed his eyes. ¡°He¡¯s a tough bastard,¡± Rolan said after a moment. ¡°He¡¯ll pull through.¡± ¡°Language,¡± Elinor said tersely. ¡°Oh, you¡¯ll let her say that.¡± ¡°You¡¯d better believe it.¡± It sounded like an argument, but when Cyrus glanced at them, they were both smiling. Just trying to lighten the mood. He didn¡¯t feel like smiling, but he did feel better. Lyla returned then, hands full. She held a thick roll of bandages and a small tube of ointment in one and a glass of water in the other. Draped over her arm was a washcloth. She gave half to Elinor, then dropped to one knee and wet the cloth by dumping water over it. At Lyla¡¯s word, Rolan took his hand from Velox¡¯s wound and propped him up instead while she worked to clean it. It was a nasty gash, but it wasn¡¯t as bad as all the blood had made it out to be. She wrapped Velox¡¯s hand around the glass. ¡°Drink,¡± she ordered. ¡°I was hoping for something a little stronger¡­¡± He rolled his eyes at her glare and downed the water, then spat some of it out, crying out as she rubbed ointment onto the wound. ¡°Clip my wings!¡± he shrieked, coughing. ¡°Clip me, that burns!¡± ¡°More water, Auntie,¡± Lyla said. Elinor left with the glass. She started unraveling the bandages, snaking it around Velox¡¯s waist. ¡°Doing great, Quinn. Almost done.¡± ¡°I hate getting stabbed,¡± he wheezed. ¡°Most people do,¡± she said, ripping the end of the wrapped bandages from the roll. She tore off another section and tied it together. ¡°That should hold for a few hours.¡± ¡°We have to move,¡± Velox said, trying to push himself up. He shouted in pain and fell back into Rolan. ¡°There¡¯s no time. Those two we tricked out front can come back any minute. Do you have anywhere safe to go?¡± Lyla and Rolan glanced at each other. ¡°The Barnas family?¡± Rolan suggested. ¡°Friends of ours,¡± Lyla said, looking from Velox to Cyrus. ¡°They live just a few doors down. Think that¡¯s good enough?¡± ¡°It¡¯ll have to do,¡± Velox said. He tried standing again, to no avail. ¡°Ah, forget it. Just leave me and get going.¡± He fished a slip of folded paper out of his pocket and handed it to Cyrus. ¡°Need you to go here. It should be safe. I asked some people to help Lieutenant Seras. I promised him I¡¯d try to help her. That¡¯s where they¡¯ll be.¡± ¡°Shut up,¡± she said. ¡°We¡¯ll carry you.¡± When did he have the time to do something like that? Cyrus unfolded the paper and read it. Nothing but an address. He pocketed it. Elinor came back and offered Velox the glass. He gulped the whole thing down without complaint this time. ¡°I¡¯ve got him,¡± Rolan said, hooking himself underneath Velox¡¯s armpits. ¡°You two, get his legs.¡± Cyrus nodded. He took the leg that wasn¡¯t near the wound and heaved up with Lyla. Elinor got the front door for them and off they went, onto what would undoubtedly be the next crazy part in the craziest adventure of his life.