10.21 E

Gold-rank Adventurer Yrimen Sandworth spat, but the taste of foul death clung to his tongue. He rubbed a glove covered with mud in his ear. Trying to replace the sound of a voice pleading for mercy with mere filth.

The crackling light filled the village with shadows as another house went up. A voice buzzed in the speaking stone in his ear, too calm, too precise. It cut through the sounds of one of his teammates puking again.

“Golemhand. They’re fleeing into the water. Beachcat is flanking from the ridge. I advised Knight-Captain Merindius pursuit was unwise, but he’s sending his forces in. Can you support his advance?”

Yrimen. Golemhand. He stared down at his right hand, oversized, augmented by a vast limb that could knock a Troll flat in a single punch. He swallowed, and the tang in the air and ground seemed to cling to his soul. Then he replied.

“Advance? Are you mad, Sable? We’re pulling out. This isn’t an adventure. It’s slaughter.”

A pause, and her voice was confused. Calm as ice.

“Yrimen…are you serious? We’re under contract with the Clairei Fields. We’ve come this far; you’ll ruin your rep.”

Sable sounded too composed, as if this were any other job. But it wasn’t. This wasn’t wiping out a Goblin tribe or Ogres. Even then, you might watch one of the small ones run off and miss them. Or…or you had a night where sleep eluded you as you tried to drink down any thoughts bubbling up.

But this wasn’t even that. These were people. Faster than they had any right to be, true, fanged, true. Terrifying? True, true, true.

A long-haired figure leaping at him and the [Knights], so fast that she tore off a [Knight]’s arms before Goler’s Limbs could attack. Yrimen punching at her as she slashed and clawed, screaming—putting the silver blade he’d been given in her throat. Catching himself, looking down and seeing no Bagrhaven or monster but a dead woman. 

[Knights] trotting past a kid with her face run through into the ground. Barely seventeen—

“We’re done. Beachcat, what in Rhir are you seeing? I feel like I’m walking into the Bloodfields. I feel like I am the Bloodfields.”

Beachcat made a confused sound, and he heard Sable, who he knew well, who shouldn’t, couldn’t, be this blasé, speaking in a muffled tone to her teammates.

However, Yrimen’s team of four looked up purely in relief. They weren’t the only ones; another voice crackled through the stone.

“Golemhand, we’re already gone. Damn the contract; they can run Ravensgift down if they want. I left three of my teammates behind in this slaughterhouse. As far as I’m concerned, the Clairei Fields, House Byres, House d’Artien, and everyone else is dead to me and any adventurer.”

“That you, Merith? Hold and we’ll join you. Rally at…just throw up a [Light] spell.”

“Done, Yrimen.”

A ball of yellow light rose in the distance, and Yrimen grabbed a big man’s arm. Lancet. Yrimen’s tone was rough as he saw more [Knights] dismounting, heading for the edge of the village. Their faces—they wore grass-green and sapphire-blue armor, and they joined figures wearing all-black, carrying torches and bright, silver weapons. Or wooden stakes. They smelled like garlic, and they fought with a fervor Golemhand couldn’t match. They seemed happy.

“Get it together, Lancet. We’re getting out of here. Watch your backs until we’re well clear.”

The rest of his team, Lancet, Minni, Weneira, didn’t hesitate. Weneira was staring at her shaking hands.

“What’s wrong with Sable? They’re burning the ones they catch—”

“Shut up. Let’s go before they notice.”

Bright eyes. Sweat pouring down their faces; despite the spring night, the air was hot. The village was taking time to burn, wet as it was. But Yrimen was soaked in sweat, mosquitos biting him—those were a bloodsucker he could hate. He whispered as his head turned, seeing a group of [Hunters] driving silver blades into every body they could, stabbing again and again.

They had the look of regular [Guards] or [Warriors]; they were apparently [Mercenaries] and [Men-At-Arms], even untrained volunteers. Far below the level of a Gold-rank team. But they had outstripped the adventurers both in their ferocious attack and morale. It had to be their class and prodigious rate of levelling.

[Vampire Hunters]. One had been celebrating hitting Level 25; he’d levelled fifteen times in a month.

Insanity. Yrimen glanced around, then pointed.

“Let’s go. Look like you’re on a mission.”

 

——

 

Knight-Captain Merindius was waiting for the village to burn as he wondered what his new levels would bring.

Level 35. He had no doubt of it. He longed for it; the man impatiently pressed a wand into the side of a wet house, doused by the rain.

Orange flames licked at the wood and began to climb, as if it were dry regardless.

[Flammable Target]. Anything he touched with fire would burn. A small gift along with so many others.

[Expert Dueling]. [Greater Endurance: Mount]. [Bound Spell: Enchantment of Lightblade]. [Arrow Ward (3)]…

Clairei Fields [Knights] were heading into the swamp with the [Vampire Hunters], chasing the spawn as they fled. Not fast; they had raced to set up a physical cordon first. This was Merindius’ 11th hunt; after several failures, the Vampire Hunters had learned that enacting a net to catch fleeing stragglers was vital.

They could take all night to comb the damn swamp, and perhaps a few of the spawn would escape, but several Vampire Hunters were slowly advancing through the waters, eyes aglow and fixed on a trail.

[Pursue the Quarry: Vampires]. A fine Skill. Despite the dangers of the water and the enemy, the [Vampire Hunters] and [Knights] had little fear.

Levels would be a fine reward as well as the bounties on each of the bloodsuckers’ heads. Merindius had been Level 24 and a regular [Knight] of the Order of Clairei Fields two months ago.

Now he was a [Knight-Captain] and about to advance even higher. The average level of Clairei Fields’ knights had been Level 22; they had a number of higher-level [Knights], but theirs was a small order compared to Terandrian ones, and it was hard to level as a [Knight].

Every single one who had begun to hunt Vampires and gained their alternate classes had reaped a clear reward. It was proof of their virtuous deeds and was convincing the holdouts in their Order. The same with the [Vampire Hunters]. Each one had levelled at unheard-of rates outside of war. Of course, the hunts were deadly as could be.

Six dead [Knights]. Thirty dead [Hunters]. Four dead adventurers, and they were Gold-rankers, even if they hadn’t been the best.

A hefty cost. Merindius stepped back from the burning house. He watched the flames begin to lick up the dark sides and turned, vindictive pleasure kindling at the small act.

A voice called out, and he saw a fellow [Knight] ride forwards.

“[Knight-Captain]! Permission to enter the water to catch the bloodsuckers? The adventurers are balking, save for Beachcat.”

“Granted, Knight. I’ll see to the adventurers. Watch yourself in the water.”

Merindius cursed the rain that had made this night attack harder as well as the location of this village. He was tempted to join the hunters in the water and briefly considered ordering them to fall back.

Fighting in the water in heavy armor was no way to engage the enemy. The Order of Clairei Fields specialized in speed. The [Knight-Captain] had already lost six to the mud; two of them [Knights].

However, if they let the spawn escape…the [Knight-Captain] saw a group of figures walking against the current of hunters setting fire to buildings, recovering clues or valuables, or heading into the water.

“Goler’s Limbs. Where are you going?”

Merindius halted the adventurers, and three of his men followed him. They surrounded the Gold-rankers. Merindius had been disappointed by their performance; they had paid good coin, and the renowned Golemhand, Adventurer Yrimen, had seemed more cowardly than his reputation indicated.

In this rain, he was hardly that dashing; mud and grime made his tanned face and brown hair resemble a Mud Golem, but he did have the impressive Golem-fist on his arm and embossed leather armor glowing with faint, blue markings.

One of his teammates was a Drowned Woman, half-Shark, and holding a staff. The other was a half-Elf, swaying and using a staff for support. So, for that matter, was the big man with ten rings on his fingers. Ringhand Lancet; each ring cast a spell.

“We’re leaving, Knight-Captain. This isn’t a battle against monsters. It’s a slaughter, and my team is done.”

Merindius saw the Gold-ranker look up and felt a surge of outrage in his chest. One of his [Knights] lowered a lance.

“You are under contract! Your team—”

“We’re done. Cite us to the Adventurer’s Guild if you want, but unless you want to add us to the charnel pit, we are done.”

There was a raw edge to the man’s tone that Merindius recognized. The [Knight-Captain] sighed. This was not the first time he’d had both aspiring [Hunters] and adventurers balk.

“Send for Beachcat. Captain Yrimen, reconsider. We are nearly done with the hunt…I promised you levels and treasure.”

“I don’t want the belongings of murdered people.”

“Not people, Captain. Bloodspawn. Monsters with convincing faces. You’ve seen Children; they wear the faces of the innocent. These are no less convincing, and they trick many well. But I tell you—they have no levels. They hide their debaucheries and infest the lands and spread like poison. Didn’t you see them attacking us?”

The Gold-rank adventurer hesitated. Merindius saw the half-Elf shaking her head. She was a…[Battle Healer], wasn’t she? They could use her expertise, and the Drowned Woman was a [Mage] specializing in water spells.

“I should not wish to ruin your reputation, Captain. Join the teams combing the water.”

“I don’t fear my reputation, Knight-Captain. I fear what I’ll hear when I sleep. I—”

The man smeared more mud across his face. Merindius was about to activate his Skill when the other team, Beachcat, appeared.

Five of them, three women, two men, their leader a Cat Beastkin. She held an enchanted bow, and the moment she stepped forwards, crisp, precise, Yrimen turned to her.

“Sable. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Yrimen, we’re just doing our jobs. You sound shellshocked. Did you take a hit? I can get Merith breaking up; he’s lost three teammates to the damn things. Come on, take a break. Knight-Captain, can we give Goler’s Limbs half an hour?”

“That may be suitable.”

Merindius murmured, watching Captain Yrimen’s face. But Golemhand just strode over and grabbed Sable with his non-augmented fist. He stared into the Cat Woman’s eyes as her slitted gaze flicked to him.

Fangs…fur…but no taint. Several of the [Knights] with Merindius eyed the Cat Beastkin with suspicion, but it was just a superficial resemblance. Even so, Merindius kept his hand on his sword hilt as he watched the water. He heard a cry in the distance; sounds of fighting.

They were wasting time here. The two adventurers were arguing, and Yrimen was pointing at the burning houses.

“—families. You’re the one who panicked when we were Silver-rankers on our first Goblin hunt. Don’t tell me you don’t see it.”

“I don’t. Yrimen, you sound like you’re having an episode. Minni, have you checked him?”

The [Battle Healer] stared at Sable as the two teams gave each other uncomprehending looks. They were sensing…Merindius murmured.

“[Hunter’s Resolve: No Hesitation, Nor Remorse].”

The Skill washed over Goler’s Limbs like a wave. They relaxed instantly, losing the tense, appalled rigidity holding them back. It was a fine Skill; it kept the doubters’ minds in check. Merindius expected that to be the end of the issue, but he had forgotten his targets were adventurers.

Yrimen’s face relaxed—then contorted into one of sheer alarm as his head swung around.

“I feel—I don’t feel bad anymore. What the hell was that?”

“Skill. We’re under a Skill!”

The Drowned Woman instantly confirmed. She turned to Merindius, despite not having heard him, and Sable hesitated. The Cat Woman flicked her eyes to Yrimen.

“Wait, you’re not feeling—”

“I don’t feel like puking. I did a second ago. Dead gods. Sable. You’re under a Skill. Knight-Captain!”

Merindius kept his face straight as he cursed internally. Yrimen pivoted, hand now clenched.

“Are we under a Skill?”

“Purely to keep you motivated on the hunt, adventurers.”

Sable and Yrimen looked at each other, then, to Merindius’ chagrin, the team of Beachcat slowly turned.

“No one puts a Skill on us without our consent. Pull it.”

“I can’t do that, Captain. Rest assured—”

“Yrimen, if we’re under a Skill, I’ll trust your judgment.”

Sable didn’t sound convinced, but Yrimen put a hand to his head.

“I was ready to go even if it meant a fight. Beachcat, fall in with my team. We’re getting out of here. Knight-Captain, use another Skill on us and it won’t be a warning. We are leaving.”

Damn. Merindius hadn’t ever seen his Skill backfire. He replied, cold as he could.

“Do so and you will be held in pure violation of—”

“What violation is there for putting a Skill on us? We’ll settle this later. We’re out. Move!”

The [Knights] around Merindius lifted their lances as the Gold-rankers began to move. They turned to the Knight-Captain, but after only a second, Merindius lifted a hand.

It wasn’t worth the strife. He’d have to explain himself to Lord Delanay; the man would understand the error. Annoyed, the [Knight-Captain] watched the Gold-rankers back away, then make tracks out of the village.

“…Inform the rest of the Order to let the adventurers pass.”

He grated to his subordinates, then wheeled his horse around. A privilege of his rank was avoiding having to wade into the swamp. The [Knight-Captain] rode through the street, about to confer with one of the experts in investigating the foe.

There were even [Scribes] who’d been motivated to join the hunt; one of them was poring over a bunch of letters to find clues about where the spawn had bases. Though they were very cautious. Still, the Skills would help. A voice stopped Merindius before he could dismount; one of the [Knights] taking over for the Gold-rank teams pointed up, a flaming arrow drawn.

“In the air!”

Instantly, every Hunter on the ground and even the retreating adventurers whirled and looked up. Merindius’ heart leapt.

A true foe? He had been promised titles and levels for bringing down a Vampire Lord. He shouted.

“Flying ones? Draw back if it’s one of their greater…”

The [Knights] were prepared for one of the true foes of blood, but then one of the adventurers shouted.

“Hold! Hold, you idiots! That’s no Vampire!”

Sable shouted and bows froze as the Cat Beastkin pointed at a shape overhead. Merindius picked out a…broom? His lips twisted instantly as he realized it was a woman on a broom.

A [Witch]! Several members of his Order spat as they saw the ancient class of troublemakers flying overhead.

“Is that chance?”

Some of them were suspicious, but one of the other Hunters raised a hand.

“I recognize her, Knight-Captain. ‘Tis the Witch Runner. Of Riverfarm.”

Merindius felt his skin prickle at the connection. Riverfarm…where so many of the spawn had fled and the Order of Clairei Fields had met the Order of Solstice. Traitors to honor all, despite their reputations. He glowered upwards, but turned away.

“Ignore her. Ensure none of them get past the cordon. We’ll wait for the rain to stop. [Detect Life] spells on…”

He paused. Then swiveled back to stare at the [Witch]. It was very hard to see her in the rain, and she was moving as fast as any [Knight] of Clairei Fields. But she looked muddy, rain soaked; anyone would be in this weather.

She rode a black broom, hunched low over it, not even glancing down at the burning village. Which was odd. Anyone would have been drawn to the light and sound. Perhaps she’d already seen what was going on, but…

The [Knight-Captain] focused on something behind the [Witch]. At first, it seemed like part of her robes. It was a large object bundled onto her broom.

Probably just her delivery. But it would be just the size of…and City Runners surely had bags of holding.

For a moment, his intuition warred with his doubts. But what sealed the deal to Merindius was the adventurers. Two of them glanced at each other and murmured. Then they looked at him and turned away. His eyes narrowed. He cast a glance skywards, then whirled, heart suddenly pounding in fury.

“With me! After that [Witch]!”

 

——

 

“Halt! You, Witch! Halt or we open fire!”

Alevica ignored the shouting as long as she could, trying to fly over the roughest terrain possible. The world was a streaked mess of brown and green, lit by the orange pyre behind her. She skimmed over treetops, muddy ground beneath her.

Green-and-blue [Knights] riding behind her. They should have been beautiful in their costly armor. But they emanated bloodlust and joy and satisfaction. Putrid emotions cracking their lovely armor like roaches with pretty painted shells. The air stank of death behind her. The horror on the adventurers was disconcerting because it only came from them and the figures hiding in the swamps.

No mercy from the others. Just a hatred that made Alevica shudder. The [Witch] flew, her blue robes soaked, muddy from the shoulders down, exhaustion painting her face—a shivering figure wrapping his tiny arms around her belly.

“Halt!”

Alevica patted the tiny hands digging into her stomach. She cast a glance back and saw more [Knights] bursting out of the trees. Dozens of them.

They’ve noticed me. Hat lice, hat lice, hatlicehatlicehatlice—

She would have gone back over the swamp if she could, but the swamps chose this moment to stop being water. Worse—she glanced over her shoulder—

The Order of Clairei Fields were gaining. They were too fast on horseback, and she was running low on magic, despite all she’d taken. Plus—Alevica glanced at the shivering lump of cloth.

She was weighed down. Alevica just had to make the best of it and called over her shoulder.

“Hold on tight. Don’t let go no matter what happens, understand?”

She heard nothing from behind her, but the hands clenched tighter with impossible strength for a child that age. But the terror, the shaking—

Alevica should have left the boy behind. But he had held the same look in his eyes as her mentor. That desperate clinging to hope. A yearning for—salvation. Alevica had failed Oliyaya.

Not this time. Master, give me strength.

Alevica bought as much time as she could, descending as one of the [Knights] drew level with her. They had bows, and they were turning, tracking her.

“I am a Runner on a delivery! Piss off!”

She flipped them off, trying to sound as genuinely annoyed as possible. The [Knights] wavered—then one called up.

“Show us your delivery, Witch! What’s that behind you?”

“Confidential from Lady Bethal Walchaís!”

“Just show us what lies under your cloak. Descend—now.”

Alevica wondered if feigning ignorance would work. If she cast an illusion…no, they were hunting Vampires. She cursed them, pretended to descend—then drew her wand and crossbow and fired.

A horse screamed and reared; a bolt of lightning made the others duck. Alevica rocketed upwards, hearing a gasp from below her. She made it fifty feet before something hit the back of her broom and exploded.

“Damn! Damndamndamn—”

Down they went. Alevica brought the broom up from a nosedive and glanced behind her. The brush was a splintered mess of burning cinders.

“You okay?”

She heard a faint sound and tried to make them rise. But her broom was damaged; it was all Alevica could do to keep them flying. She skimmed five feet off the ground, and they were right behind her.

[Knights]. It had to be a dozen.

Alevica’s wand flashed; six bolts of electricity made horses shriek and [Knights] spasm. The rest peeled away, blocking the electricity or dodging as she unloaded all the magic in her wand. That gave her a hundred paces’ lead; then she saw more streaming after her.

Was the entire Order here? Alevica kept firing wildly, forcing even the ones with bows to bring up shields. Then she felt her wand go dead.

“This is it.”

Her crossbow was failing; the mechanism must be clogged with mud. Alevica had no more weapons aside from a knife at her belt. Maybe the family would escape with her buying them time.

But she and the little boy—the [Witch] stared at her dead wand and felt her craft burning.

Salvation. It was coming off the boy as if he believed she could save him. The Witch Runner looked back as the riders began to grow larger.

“What’s your name, boy?”

“Arcanis.”

Arcanis? It sounded like a magical name. Alevica smiled as she saw a pale face and red eyes—pronounced canines staring up at her. Gently, she lifted her hat. She drew all of that desperate longing in his eyes into her hat and cast the only spell she had left.

“Well then, Arcanis. On my hat, I’ll see you to safety. A [Witch]’s oath on it.”

Two red eyes, faintly glowing in the moonlit night, looked up at her. A tiny nod. Alevica smiled at the boy.

How she lied.

Alevica grabbed all of his earnest hope and trust and all the magic she could afford. No time for rhymes or fancy magic. She lifted her trustworthy weapon and spoke to it.

“Find Witch Eloise. Tell her a [Witch] is dying. Now—fly.”

Alevica hurled the wand into the air, and it left a trail amidst the storm, shooting higher and arcing across the sky. Alevica wondered how long it would take to reach Riverfarm.

Too long. She had minutes—if she could just slow the [Knights] down, she might buy time! Alevica tossed everything from her bag of holding behind her. Waterlogged blankets, food, soggy reagents—the figures just galloped around or over her possessions.

No magic. No wand. Only a broom and…

A word flickered into the Witch Runner’s mind. She rolled the broom to dodge an arrow where her head would have been, reoriented herself, and spoke.

“Scaeptis. Scaep—”

How did she say it? Alevica changed intonations, tried to make the word come out right as a [Knight] drew level with her, sword drawn. She looked into a green metal visor as the sword rose, and she lifted a hand, trying to swerve away.

“Scæptiŝ?”

Almost. Too bad. 

The rains were lessening. Alevica was trapped in that kind of moment where time slowed and rushed all at once. The moon was illuminating her, the soggy ground—the descending sword.

The shadow of death passed over the Witch Runner, and she tried to block the boy behind her with her body. She saw the [Knight]’s arm lower—and then his body twisted, and his shield came up.

Huh?

Then a pair of gigantic claws seized him, and Alevica heard a scream. The Griffin hit the horse and flew up in two wingbeats before dropping the green, armored figure.

Time resumed; Alevica grabbed the handle of her broom and peered back as the [Griffin Rider] shouted. The Griffin shrieked, and another [Knight] closing on Alevica shouted as a bola hit them and took them off their saddle.

The [Knight-Captain] cut the second bola, which clanged off his armor and drew up his horse. The Order of Clairei Fields scattered as the Griffin turned and banked, going for another attack run.

“Griffin attack!”

“Now? There’s a rider! Watch out for—”

Alevica saw the same woman who’d dragged her into this mess lifting a spear overhead and whooping as she swooped past the Witch Runner, blocking the [Knights]. For a second, they locked eyes, and Alevica felt a wave of righteous fury and indignation coming off the rider.

Black hair. Wide eyes, face set into the grin of a woman who had decided she had nothing left to lose or fear. A once-broken nose, which she still turned up at the [Knights]. A spear in hand, which she had brought from Terandria to kill a [Witch].

A murderer of Kaliv’s Wing of Shame. A killer, as savagely dangerous as the Griffin she rode, but not honorless.

What did the [Griffin Rider] see? Knights chasing a [Witch]. A burning village. And…that gaze locked on Alevica’s passenger before shifting. She gave Alevica a rueful grin as she raised her spear higher.

The [Knight-Captain] roared as he backed up from the gigantic Griffin, who snapped at his horse.

“Halt, Griffin Knight! In the name of the Clairei Fields, we are pursuing a Vampire!”

The [Griffin Rider] shouted back.

“I don’t care if you’re after the devil himself! What kind of child-killing bastards dare call themselves [Knights]? I am Griffin Rider Lillian Woods! Kaliv’s Wing of Shame would rather die than let this kind of injustice go unpunished! I challenge you! Honor or death!”

“Are you mad?”

One of the [Knights] tried to shoot after the Witch Runner, who was still flying away. In response, the Griffin took wing and swept after the [Knight]. It plucked the struggling figure off the horse and then flew up a dozen feet and dropped them.

The Order of Clairei Fields scattered in the face of this unexpected threat. Alevica was still staring backwards as the [Witch] gained precious minutes.

She’s helping me? But she tried to kill me! The woman must have seen what was going on and—

“I am going to curse her and her Griffin into next year.”

Alevica swore to herself. But she’d upgraded that from ‘murder’. Alevica just focused on keeping her broom flying. Now it was a real race. If she could keep ahead of the Order of Clairei Fields…

She just had to hope help arrived in time. 

 

——

 

It was a late night in Riverfarm, and Witch Eloise was sitting on a bench-swing outside her comfortable house on the outskirts of Riverfarm. Not so far she was remote, but isolated from the hustle and bustle of a city.

Just as she liked it. She had a pot of tea by her side; she really did like the stuff, more than it just being her craft. And she had a guest.

He’d been here the last month. His hair was white, and he didn’t look like a grand [Mage] out of stories. More like an old traveller with patched robes and a face that was less ‘old and wise’, and more like a young man, a scamp who had one day realized he had white hair and wrinkles.

Typhenous the Plague Mage was no wandering wizard. He sometimes played into the image, but if you saw him barechested, he was wiry with countless knife wounds he hid with his robes. If he acted like the befuddled old [Mage], it was because it was a role he loved to play.

—He had never seemed as old as he did now. He lay staring up at the night sky, and Eloise thought a storm was far to the north. But Typhenous didn’t seem as happy as a man might after having achieved the enviable lap pillow.

He had tried for months to talk, charm, and otherwise ingratiate himself into her good books. Not just hers; Eloise had been well aware that Typhenous had been flirting with Mavika. More successfully than most people.

He had finally done it. But not in the way he had expected. Rather, the old man looked lost and sleepy, despite the early hour. Eloise was gently combing his hair.

“My. It was one of those interesting days, wasn’t it? A todo about something or other?”

His voice was lost. It seemed as though he didn’t have the energy to stand; she’d found him sitting there with no appetite for lunch.

All the sharpness of a man who had once been a Face of Invrisil, a Gold-rank adventurer that had lived on the edge, had left him. He had lost weight. Briganda had been after him to eat more, but he had no appetite. He sat around and watched Cade or chatted about memories with people keen to pass the time.

To Witch Eloise, he was like a cloud of dandelion seeds. The wind had begun to blow, and the cloud was shifting, piece by piece, vanishing into that great beyond.

The Plague Mage looked at peace with himself as Eloise spoke, staring down at his face.

“Interesting? You could say that. The Unseen Empire might come under trouble soon. But you don’t care about that, do you?”

His eyes met hers, then unfocused. Typhenous stared at the stars.

“That young man, Laken, is a bright fellow. He’ll manage. People do. This is a peaceful village.”

“Mhm. For now.”

Eloise said nothing; she just kept stroking his face. Typhenous closed his eyes. After a while, he spoke.

“…No news of Revi?”

“Are you expecting any?”

For a moment, his head tried to rise, then it fell back.

“She’ll be fine. She’s also very clever, you know. Talks tougher than she is…but she’ll be fine. I’m sure.”

“Of course you are.”

His eyes fluttered. Typhenous was drifting off into slumber. Or trying to. He spoke up to Eloise.

“You’ve been very kind, Witch Eloise. I hate to trouble you. I feel rather foolish after all this. I’m…”

His voice trailed off, and the Great Witch of Tea, who had herself been a [Lady] and so many other things until she had ‘settled down’ to merely try and keep an empire in Izril running—she smiled down at him.

Kindly. That was Eloise’s nature. She didn’t kick the door down in the night like Hedag. She talked to people. Her magic was small things. A cup of tea, because that could sort out so much.

Was she kind to Typhenous? Her hands were. But her words…

“And Halrac is dead. So is Ulrien.”

He flinched. Those lost eyes focused a bit more, opening slightly. She had learned Ulrien’s name from Typhenous.

“Brave men. Good fellows. Straightforward, like an arrow and a sword. Griffon Hunt is over. Revi’s gone elsewhere, and Briganda’s got Cade.”

“Yes. And there’s no need for you. Is that what you want to say?”

He avoided her eyes as she bent over him.

“It’s a fitting end to it. There won’t be another Halrac Everam. Briganda’s retired, and Revi’s young. And I’m…”

The breeze blew, and Eloise calmly raised a hand and silenced it.

“You’re giving up.”

“No. No? Me? Perish the thought. I just wonder…”

He tried to sit up, but he was as weak as a kitten. Eloise heard Typhenous whisper.

“I just wonder. A man does wonder. Not just Griffon Hunt. I wonder if I’ve made their lives better. I was the reason they split up. Perhaps I helped bring Halrac to Liscor. The world needs bright, young, earnest people like that [Innkeeper]. Not old fools.”

It was a debate they were having, like the verbal sparring matches made of wit as much as academic insight. Trading a lifetime of observations and opinions in a genteel manner; someone too young to appreciate it would think it merely flirting.

Today, it was an argument with all the stakes, as it ever was. Eloise digested Typhenous’ statement and replied softly, with all the artistry of a [Lady] wielding a truncheon.

“Perhaps young people matter more than the old fool. But the role of age is to ensure those young, earnest, naïve fools stay alive, isn’t it? To stand between them and everything else.”

A masterful retort. Typhenous’ eyes focused on the night sky above, and his murmur sounded like the dying breeze, a sigh he had let out so many times his lungs had permanently emptied of air.

“Very true. Very true. And yet, the young folk never listen. They never let age go before them. They’re there to the very end. If the world worked as well as you and I know it should, why are we here? I tried to run faster, believe me. But he…they’re always a step before me. Until I wonder if I was holding them back or the reason they were a moment too slow. Then what should be done, Witch Eloise?”

He looked up expectantly, but the [Witch] just went back to combing his hair.

“If you’re asking me for permission or agreement, I don’t have any. I rather like being the meddling old woman.”

“I don’t need permission.”

For a second, Typhenous’ voice sounded peeved, then his body relaxed. His voice drifted away as Eloise frowned at the sky. Was…something…? But she focused on her task.

“Then why does it sound like you’re asking it? And making every attempt to do what you think is best?”

He lay there, silently, breathing shallowly. She bent down and wondered if she’d fail again. Eloise gently kissed his forehead.

“You won your way here, Typhenous. But only because you gave up. Mavika let you go.”

“A darn shame. Such a charming [Witch]. And a lady these days. I did my best.”

“You did. But she has no use for carrion. If you want to close your eyes, I won’t stop you. But I think you’re lying to yourself. You will always be needed. If you wish to be.”

For a moment, she thought she had him. But like a cunning old fish on a hook, he slipped away. He didn’t want to be caught and dragged back into the unkind waters.

Guilt and exhaustion were gentle clouds to carry him beyond the lands that Eloise knew. But she fought for him gently. Insistently. For she knew, she believed—

The man known as Typhenous believed his lies not at all. He did not believe in that peaceful world where things got better.

The Tea Witch was about to say something else when her hat, patterned with flowers and even dried leaves, tilted up. Something was coming. Eloise rose, and Typhenous’ head thunked down.

“Ow. What—”

The wand shot down like an arrow and cracked into the front door of Eloise’s house like a bolt of thunder. Eloise spun; she recognized the magic and sender at once.

“Alevica?”

Something terrible has happened. Alevica’s wand—she wouldn’t have sent that unless—Eloise traced the trajectory through the air.

She was not the only person to have noticed it; someone came striding her way.

“Witch Eloise. Did I just see Alevica’s wand…?”

Witch Thallisa halted as she saw the evidence sticking out of Eloise’s door. The [Tea Witch] whirled.

“Thallisa, inform Laken Godart at once! Have The Wandering Inn find her; she is in mortal danger.”

Who? And what? Typhenous lay there, blinking stupidly, as Eloise grabbed her tea pot and hurled the contents out. She stared at the tea leaves at the bottom of it.

Tea leaf reading had roots in the [Oracle] class and fortune telling. Eloise needed only one look before she cursed.

“Chilblains of Cenidau. It’s Vampires and force of arms. Someone’s hunting her.”

“I will tell the [Emperor]. And Mavika?”

“There is no time!”

Alevica’s wand reeked of death and calm determination, just like her mentor. Eloise thrust open the door to her house. She strode in as Thallisa began to run.

Typhenous still lay there. The Plague Mage. Or just an old man. He had a choice.

There was always a choice. That was what [Witches] knew. He looked up, slowly, the clouds of oblivion calling to him. The Gold-rank adventurer, the man who had been Typhenous the Plague Knife, barely reacted as Eloise strode out of her house.

“A [Witch] is in mortal peril. I have never been a warrior. Do I have one here? Or will you drift away and leave the rest for someone else?”

She reached down desperately, fingers searching for his hand, as she had done so many times to so many people she had tried to help. But as ever—her fingers strained at the air as her broom rose—

They always had to reach up.

An old man lay, staring up at a flying woman with a pointed hat, reaching down out of the sky for his hand. He was old when he felt like it.

He was a boy when he closed his eyes. Death—the death that he had beheld in so many friends and enemies—death aged him.

He was so tired. If he closed his eyes, he was sure that people would work things out. He was not needed…unless he was. But he wondered if he had even the strength to raise his arm.

A flying woman reaching for him as he slipped away, asking him to rise. It was funny. Not her face. Just that this moment had happened twice in his life. His lips curved upwards, and then…was he flying or falling? And what was the difference?

Everything, he decided. Even if they felt the same.

 

——

 

Emperor Laken Godart was doing his best to be convivial as he smiled into what he was assured was a scrying mirror. He hated phone calls and variants thereof; back on Earth, it had been easy since the visual component didn’t matter.

Now, he felt like he was talking to himself because his senses told him there was only a round orb in front of him. Still, he did his best to smile.

“—delighted, absolutely, [Mayor]. I am quite happy Charlay has made such a stunning impression on your city. Please, send over a delegation at once. Would you care for anything from us?”

The voice on the other end was slightly nervous, and a babble in the background broke off to let the woman speak. Laken wasn’t mad. Not really. But of all the places Charlay had decided to go…well, he didn’t blame her since Rie had apparently given the Centaur orders, but he disliked being blindsided.

Even if this was fairly genius. Still, Charlay trotting down the main street of a city shouting that she came from the Unseen Empire and that they wanted an alliance was not the diplomacy he’d hoped for.

Then again, it seemed to be working, which annoyed him even more. The voice on the other end was certainly gratified, if palpably uneasy at their disparity in classes. Or maybe it was Laken’s closed eyes.

“What an honor, Your Majesty! I will, of course, send over our representatives posthaste. If—if it wouldn’t trouble you, would more of that fine bread go amiss? The—the wheat fields that the vandals burned were a sore loss, and you see—”

Laken smiled genuinely. At least the Unseen Empire had something they could give that was sorely needed. He nodded judiciously.

“Not at all. Let’s have Charlay return, and I’ll send as many City Runners equipped with Bags of Holding as I can, and organize some drivers as well. If you can provide the escort for the drivers?”

“Very reasonable, Your Majesty! Of course, the exact terms will, ah, be negotiated. But your gift is very gracious. Very, very…needed. Thank you again.”

The edge in that tone was all too telling. Laken exhaled.

“I’ll have Runners outbound tonight, then. They’ll use the door from Celum as it seems that will be much faster; I don’t believe your delegation can use the door if they arrive in any numbers.”

“Not to worry, Your Majesty! Our general—that is, brigadier—is known for her arrival at the umpteenth hour. I think she has a Skill that allows her to arrive only at the last minute…”

Laken smiled, half-distracted by a few thoughts. Not organizing the food; Yesel was already doing that in the background. She had actually started before the call had even begun.

No, Laken was wondering if a certain Order would like to do the delivery. Purely for humanitarian reasons. He was about to inquire about the deal further, despite the late hour, when his head rose.

“Er. Pardon me just one moment, [Mayor]. Gamel.”

Laken turned, and the [Knight] stepped forwards and took the orb. Laken spoke to himself, incredulous.

“Witch Eloise? Is she flying?”

Before Gamel could go to the window, Laken heard a voice ringing through Riverfarm. It seemed like the floor came alive and spoke; he leapt out of his seat as, in his mind’s eye, a mouth appeared out of the floorboards.

Thallisa’s voice spoke, eliciting a shriek from Yesel.

“A [Witch] is in danger! Witch Alevica flies or she dies! Beware, Emperor!”

“What? Alevica?”

Laken heard a muted exclamation from the scrying orb as his throne room descended into chaos. Laken rushed outside, then heard Gamel, Yesel, and the others exclaim.

“Look! Up there!”

Laken couldn’t tell what they were seeing, and Gamel hadn’t activated his Skill. He wished he could see what they did, but he sensed it.

For, as there had been in the days of old, and as they still did, a [Witch] flew high overhead like a rising comet passing over the town, her white hair blowing behind her hat. Before Laken could focus on the brief image of her, he heard another voice.

Then Witch Thallisa was striding down the street, voice still raised, and Laken heard her shout. He listened—then a moment later, his voice was echoing, waking Riverfarm just like the [Witch]’s magic.

“Send for Wiskeria! Raise the entire army and get me Lord Yitton—now! I want every [Soldier] Riverfarm has heading north to help her now!”

Gamel backed up a step as Laken spun. The speaking stone was still in his hands, and a babble of confused voices came from it. Laken cursed as he realized Wales was far, far south of Riverfarm. And Alevica was to the north? Gamel looked around desperately, protesting out of sheer common sense.

“But, Your Majesty—there’s no one who can reach her!”

Laken bellowed into his [Knight]’s face.

“Send for the Order of Solstice!”

 

——

 

Durene Faerise was counting Antinium outside of The Wandering Inn by nightfall as she showed Normen a budget that made him blanch.

“That much gold?”

“It’s for food. You need food to march people anywhere. And tents. And carpentry supplies. Hammers, nails. Stuff to make mortar.”

He gave her a respectful look.

“Are you sure that’s everything that’s needed to build a keep?”

Durene gave him a nervous smile.

“I think so. I snuck into Riverfarm and got Beycalt to run the list over for me. And I remember Laken groaning about the costs of building anything with stone, so it lines up. I can get it all bought and packed up by tomorrow.”

Another respectful look.

“How?”

“Antherr knows a lot of Antinium, and they can provide almost everything cheap.”

The two Knights of Solstice were watching the Antinium set up camp; they were getting practice with the tents, and they’d need it if they wanted to get moving tomorrow. Durene kept glancing at the window where Lapsey was supposed to be resting.

Normen was glancing around the dark Floodplains, even darker given their distance from Liscor. Durene just eyed the skeletons, still at work building the tower. She shuddered, but Normen nodded and folded the budget up.

“I’ll get the gold from the Merchant’s Guild, then. Your plan’s a good one, Durene. I feel like we need to find more…people first. Then again, as it were, that might not be a problem.”

She frowned at him. When she’d proposed her ‘crazy idea’, which he’d loved on the spot, she’d thought finding ‘more people’ would be the hard and dangerous part. But Normen just glanced over his shoulder.

“How do you figure that, Normen?”

“Hm. I wonder.”

Then Durene felt a prickle on her back and froze as someone placed a blade against her skin. She hadn’t kept her armor on, and even if she had—someone else landed on her back and pressed a blade against her neck.

“Don’t move.”

Durene almost threw the figure off her until the blade dug into her skin. She froze, hands half-raised, and saw Normen with his hand on a blade that had tried to go for his back. Durene saw two other figures on the roof near Lapsey’s window. So fast!

“Normen—”

The Grandmaster of the Order of Solstice had one hand on his mace. He glanced at Durene as the figures wearing all black, fast as thought and strong—one was wrenching Durene’s arm up—tensed.

Five minutes later, Mister Ram ran into The Wandering Inn, shouting for the Order of Solstice. But by that time—

They were already gone.

 

——

 

Terror made you pee. And if you weren’t peeing, you weren’t hydrated, so you’d better gulp water.

This was common sense [Witch] advice. Alevica wished she could have taken it on that long night, but the truth was that she didn’t have time to slow down, much less the chance to drink from a water canteen or use the restroom. If she even released the death grip on her broom, she might crash, and she’d held it—and her bladder—for seven hours.

Seven hours of darkness. Seven hours since the moment that the Griffin Rider, Lillian, had saved her and Arcanis and Alevica had lost the Order of the Clairei Fields.

It felt like an eternity of flying since then, based on the position of the stars and Arcanis’ understanding of where they were, skimming low over the ground, weaving past trees, feeling her heartbeat accelerate every time she heard anything but the rushing of wind.

She was exhausted, strung out, alert, and wanted nothing else but to sleep—but she wouldn’t have been able to rest even if she lay down now.

She was being pursued. The fact that Alevica could not see her pursuers mattered not. She flew, the shivering boy behind her. Whispering in her ear now and then.

“Not that way. That’s the marsh.”

“A bit right. That’s the big rock.”

“Almost at the road.”

“Just a snake.”

He sounded like a ghost, so precise and clipped were his remarks. Precise…yet she could feel him shivering against her back. Whenever she glanced back, she saw a kid covered in muck, staring up at her, her spare robes whipping around him.

No monster. She kept seeing that desperate family in the swamp.

Had any of them made it?

These were questions that ran around in Alevica’s head. Moments of frozen time. Guilt. As if she could have carried a second passenger.

As if I’m going to get out of this alive. 

Then, Alevica would sense her broom dipping and desperately push more energy into it and feel that ragged waning energy from lack of sleep decreasing. Wonder when her magic would run out or when she’d hit a tree.

That was how her night had gone, thank you very much.

It was dawn when Alevica next spotted anything other than the marsh. She had been flying all night, fueling her flying with her new craft.

Was it her new craft? She didn’t know. She had been heading what was ‘south’ in her mind, though it had been hard to tell. The Order of Clairei Fields had yet to appear when she burst out of a treeline and saw the road at last.

That [Griffin Rider] must have slowed them considerably. If she was alive or dead or a captive, Alevica didn’t know. Then again, the moment they caught up, the chase would end—fast.

If she had been within sight of the [Knights] this entire time, she and her Vampire passenger would be dead. Too many Skills could let them shoot her dead or close the gap; when they saw her, she would have minutes left.

“Scæptiŝ. Scæptiŝ.”

She was muttering to herself with a hoarse voice. It was the only thing she had left. She was close, she felt it—but her sleep-deprived mind and exhaustion weren’t doing her any favors.

Alevica was so tired, in fact, a little hand had to prod her.

“Runner.”

“It’s Witch Runner. Or Alevica. What?”

Alevica snapped back, and Arcanis flinched. She caught herself—then reached back and patted him on the head.

“I’m tired. What is it?”

“I need to…go.”

“What? You’re fine. They’re after both of us.”

For a second, Alevica didn’t get what the boy meant. She thought he wanted to hide in the forest. That was suicide. Then she turned her head and saw Arcanis squirming.

“No. I hafta pee.”

“Oh. Join the club.”

They were skimming across the road now, a curving passage along the swamplands that Alevica knew. In moments, they hit the actual highway; still dirt and miserably muddy, but crossing into the open.

Just south of Reizmelt. Alevica saw a rider on horseback swerve and, for a second, saw a startled face of a City Runner, badge and all.

“Hey! Call in a [Message] spell! I’m being attacked by [Knights]! The Order of Clairei—”

Alevica shouted as she blasted past the City Runner. She glanced over her shoulder and hoped the fool would catch up or had a [Message] scroll. No luck; they were controlling their rearing horse. She heard a questioning shout and cursed.

“Idiot. There goes any help. Not that we’ll be lucky enough to have a Courier in the area.”

Even if that idiot called in the alarm with a [Message] scroll, she doubted the Runner’s Guild would get the issue unless they explicitly made the Vampire Hunter connection. After all—it was the Order of Clairei Fields.

“We’re getting chased by jumped-up escorts. All those idiots are good for are escorting nobles around.”

The Order of the Clairei Fields had a reputation as a fast-response group that rode the highways and kept transports safe. They sometimes killed monsters or bandits, but they weren’t like the Knights of the Petal. The ones who’d torched that Vampire village had looked…dangerous.

The road was brightening as Alevica dodged around a second wagon and decided to skim alongside the road. She passed by a [Merchant], who cursed as his [Guards] reached for their weapons.

“Watch it, Runner! Wait. What th—”

He caught sight of her appearance, burnt broom, and her passenger, and Alevica shouted.

“Evil [Knights] trying to kill me! Call for help!”

Maybe it’d work, maybe not. It was hard to even speak long; she’d frozen into a single lump overnight from the cold. Arcanis seemed to be in better shape. At least, the boy felt like a block of ice, but he seemed to be more preoccupied by his bladder.

“Miss Witch, I have to pee.”

“Well…turn around and piss on the next person we pass by. I can’t stop or else we’re dead!”

She heard a startled giggle at this. Then what sounded like a sob.

Alevica’s hand came back, and she brushed at the boy’s head, though it made the broom wobble so much she had to take her hand back to hold onto the broom.

“If we get to town, we’ll be safe. Or at least—”

Alevica turned and saw Arcanis flinching. She didn’t get why until she saw his face was tanned brown; he tugged the cloak over his face, and she stared in astonishment.

That fast? The sun had shone on him for bare moments. Then Alevica realized hiding him away, or her own identity, would be impossible.

Maybe if we got a gang to put us up in a safe room? Alevica was tempted to keep flying southwards and get to Invrisil. But something else made the call for her.

Her broom had done its best after taking a fire arrow to the back, but Alevica had barely been able to keep it a dozen feet off the ground. Now, it drifted another foot down, and Alevica cursed.

“You stupid broom! Come on! You haven’t let me down so far. Not now! Not—hey, what are you doing back there?”

She felt the boy fidgeting as she shot past an intersection with a signpost, did a quick turn, realized she was going the wrong way, and sped down the other road. At first, Alevica thought he was peeing, but then she realized the liquid dripping down his arm was…

Blood?

It was red, and Alevica twisted and saw him tossing a spray of droplets to the side of the road. He’d bitten his arm and—

“Stop that!”

She grabbed for his arm, but to her astonishment, the wound was already healing. Arcanis flinched and looked up at her.

“Sorry.”

“What are you doing?”

“Leaving a message. So…so they know where I went.”

A message? Alevica glanced back, and the signpost was already far behind her, but she thought she remembered him hitting the road with his blood.

“Can your people track you from that?”

“Yes. An’ this.”

She blinked—then realized he was leaving a second kind of liquid trail behind them. Despite herself, Alevica began laughing. She swerved around a carriage rolling sedately down the road, leaving a trail of urine on the wheels as the [Driver] began swearing a storm at the two of them.

Despite his fear, the boy giggled too. Then it sounded like a sob again. Wordlessly, Alevica reached back and put an arm around him as he buttoned up his trousers.

“Those idiots are all after me and you, kid. Your family will be fine.”

She glanced down and saw his red eyes staring solemnly up at her.

“They won’t ever be fine again. They’ll hunt us until we’re all ash. But thank you, Miss Witch.”

Alevica met those eyes as long as she could. Then she tugged the hood down over his face.

“Shut up. You’re just a brat. You don’t know anything. Now, hold on. This broom is losing power, and I have to focus.”

 

——

 

Over the next hour, her broom began to descend closer to the ground at a rate of a foot every ten minutes. Then faster and faster. By the end of the third hour, Alevica had to stay on the road; if she flew through the fields, tall grass would snag her boots.

She had no desire to stop and let her pursuers catch up; once they had the road, they might be as fast as her or even faster. But Alevica had no choice. The next settlement they came to would necessitate a stop.

By now, the Witch Runner had probably alarmed over two hundred people on the road; every time she’d passed by anyone, she’d screamed bloody murder and told them she was being pursued and to call Riverfarm, the Watch, the Runner’s Guild, or just for help.

She wondered if anyone had paid attention; if the news had spread or her cry for help had gotten to Riverfarm, well, Alevica didn’t have a [Message] scroll, and she hadn’t had time to stop.

Still, she had a hunch her warnings had attracted some kind of attention. There was a crawling sensation down her back she associated with a [Scrying] spell.

By the pricking of my nose…I think someone knows. Hurry up and help, though, because I don’t know if I can keep going!

At around 8:47 AM, the Witch Runner found a town, though she didn’t know the name of it. It was vaguely familiar; an arch gate stood open, and the walls were made of very tidy brickwork.

The Watch had the amazing image of a [Witch] lying flat on her broom as it skimmed bare inches over the ground, a hooded figure on her back. She screamed into the main street, and her broom shredded itself on the cobblestones as it finally lost altitude completely.

Alevica came to a halt in a shower of splinters, catching the boy in her arms and depositing him on the ground as people whirled. A woman holding the largest wheel of cheese Alevica had ever seen in her life stood there with a dozen splinters of wood embedded in her impromptu shield.

Alevica, panting, swayed as a [Guardsman] lowered the cheese sandwich and tea he’d been having for breakfast. He looked around to confirm this wasn’t a dream, then cleared his throat.

“What’s going on, Miss Runner—”

“I need a Mage’s Guild and a carriage! Now! A horse!”

Alevica took two steps and stumbled. The [Guardsman] eyed her mud-spattered and desperate appearance. He glanced at the gates, swallowing as he fumbled for his sword and spilled his tea all over his legs.

“Is it monsters? Bandits? We can lock the gates—”

“Carriage and send a [Message] to Riverfarm that I’m here and need help!”

The [Guard] hesitated. Then he pointed.

“The Mage’s Guild is that way, miss. But there’s no carriage service in Kevaunt. We might have a magical carriage from Wistram any day now. What’s—”

Alevica was already eight steps that way, yanking Arcanis with her, when she heard the name of the town and froze.

Oh dead gods. She was back in this hellish town! Kevaunt was hours upon hours away from Invrisil, let alone Riverfarm.

“Get me a horse then!”

Alevica ran with Arcanis on her back. He was shaking with fear, and she realized he was afraid of the Watch.

The Watch. How likely were they to take the Order of Clairei Fields’ side? Even if they didn’t, the [Knights] could just barge in here and…

“Horse or broom and we’re out of here.”

Actually, dead gods, was she stupid? Alevica slowed and glanced around the street full of people staring stupidly at her. Most of them were carrying cheese or had it on their clothing…she saw a grilled cheese sandwich in someone’s hands and was tempted to grab it. But there was no time.

All she needed was a broom. Most wouldn’t fly as well as hers, but…

Was there a [Cleaner] around? Alevica wobbled as she turned around in place. Everyone was staring at her save for a red carriage rolling her way. No chance of commandeering it; it looked like a noble’s carriage.

The itching on Alevica’s shoulder blades intensified. But she cast her eyes left, right, searching for any brooms. None. But a Mage’s Guild had to have one. No, wait, they used magic. Then the Runner’s Guild? Then someone shrieked in her ear.

“Miss Alevica! Watch out!”

Arcanis? Alevica spun, heard a gasp, and threw the boy off her b—

The people of Kevaunt, starting their morning, heard a scream, saw the Witch Runner hurl a boy across the street—and then the crimson carriage hit her. It swerved, actually; the horses in front galloped right so the back of the carriage swung out and hit the Witch Runner. But even a glancing blow from a vehicle—

The [Witch] lay flat on her back as the boy ran over and shook her urgently. People pointed, and someone called for a [Healer] as the carriage slowed. Then a door opened, and a voice called out loudly.

“Oh dead gods! Morry, you foolish oaf! You’ve hit the poor girl!”

A noblewoman spoke, fanning herself idly, and every eye focused on the familiar crest of a rose with twined, thorny vines on the side of the carriage. Was it—?

Lady Cecille Reinhart stepped out of the carriage as the [Driver] bowed in his seat, looking not-at-all sorry. She peered down at Alevica, who was laying flat on the ground, mouth open like a dead fish.

“How tragic. Accept my deepest apologies, Miss Runner. Here. For your pain and the [Healer].”

She reached for her side—then tossed gold coins onto Alevica. The Witch Runner twitched as several pinged off her face. Cecille tsked, putting one hand on her cheek.

“Tragic, tragic. Someone call for a [Healer]. What’s this? A poor child?”

Arcanis froze as Cecille Reinhart’s eyes found him. He tried to get up and run, but froze as the [Driver] swung down and picked him up.

It was so smooth that Alevica, mind clouded from pain, had no idea what was going on. The driver had the boy in his arms in a trice, grunting as he kept the boy in a bear hug grip. The—the [Lady] was…

Staring at a compact mirror in her hand. She clicked it closed now, and the itching on Alevica’s shoulder blades stopped. The crippling agony in her ribs and back and everywhere else—did not.

“I have the little lad. Lost, Your Ladyship? Or perhaps this Runner was delivering him somewhere?”

“How dreadful! And this poor Runner is in no fit shape to deliver him anywhere. A boy in such danger of pursuit by all these hotheads…I know! I’ll take him to his destination. You shall ride with me, young man.”

It was like a bad play. Cecille Reinhart clapped her hands together with an artificial look of charity on her face. Then she turned on her heel and strode back into her carriage as the boy began to struggle, but he went still as she stared at him. Alevica tried to get up, but she could barely move.

“S-stop—”

Cecille Reinhart accidentally kicked Alevica in the head as she passed by. She was smiling, and her eyes were on the Vampire boy. She only lost the smile when someone protested from inside the carriage.

“Eugh. Mother! It’s covered in filth! Can’t we wash it first?”

Lady Cecille stopped, pinched the bridge of her nose, then hissed at someone else in the carriage.

“Damia, do shut up. This darling boy needs our help, and if you don’t like it, you may walk. And if you don’t understand why this is significant, I will throw you out of the carriage myself. Now—move—”

She glanced towards the northern gates as Alevica, gasping, sat up, felt a flash in her ribs, and fell over. She pointed a finger as the carriage closed.

“Stop! I’m warning you!”

Cecille Reinhart turned innocently.

“What was that? I think she’s delirious. Have no fear, Miss Runner. I won’t harm the boy. I just have some questions…”

Her eyes flickered as she put a hand to her ear, pretending she couldn’t hear Alevica. The Witch Runner gasped as she coughed out what felt like a lung. The carriage began rolling, and Alevica croaked.

“Sçæptiŝ.”

Her pointing finger flashed. The people approaching her leapt back as something green appeared; an oily flame, smelling like marshwater and something even more uncanny still burst into life.

No, not flame. It didn’t burn right. It was liquid? Liquid light? What was—Alevica stared at her finger—

Then the projectile fired from her fingertip and hit the carriage as it began to roll away.

The entire vehicle rocked. The projectile was barely as big as the palm of Alevica’s hand, but she heard a scream from within. The projectile had gouged a neat, round hole out of the back of the carriage. Not deep, but it had definitely ruined the paintwork and vaporized a fist-sized chunk of material.

The impact made the horses stop and panic, despite the [Driver] cracking a whip. Alevica stared at her fingers.

“Wh—what was—”

The carriage backed up a pace, and the door opened. The [Driver] swung down as Lady Cecille Reinhart glanced out at Alevica. Her dispassionate, cold gaze suddenly had an interested light.

“Her, too, Morry. Charity is coursing through my body today.”

He came off of the front fast, striding towards her, and Alevica groaned. She aimed a finger at the [Driver], but he side-stepped warily. He looked tough, and he had a horsewhip in his hands that he raised.

He’ll kick the hell out of me. If I give up, maybe we’ll get away…and be in the custody of a Reinhart.

Snakes or murderous [Knights]. Which was worse?

Never trust a Reinhart. Alevica felt the word on her lips again. Hag Magic. But something was wrong. The mana…

The whip drew back as the [Driver] strode at her. Alevica gritted her teeth—then heard a buzzing. A great thrumming of sound—and then there were bees.

“Huh?”

Alevica had never seen a thousand angry bees swarm down the street. They came like a hail of death, darting everywhere, and the [Driver] whirled—stared at the bees—and screamed.

So did Lady Cecille Reinhart and the other passengers of the coach. They tried to slam the doors shut, but they were no match for the power of the moving bee. Screams from within the carriage sounded; then the doors opened, and Arcanis burst out as people swatted at the insects attacking them from within.

Bees. What was going on? Alevica lay there as the boy ran over and tried to drag her up. He was strong enough, but he didn’t have the leverage, and she had definitely broken a rib. However, someone else was striding over, and Alevica stared up as a young woman and a man bent over her.

“Here, drink this, Miss Runner. Quickly now, into the The Bee’s Knees.”

A familiar man with a bee-themed apron offered her a potion. A healing potion. Alevica stared at it, then the [Buzzkeeper], then the receptionist of the Runner’s Guild.

“Huh?”

She didn’t waste time. A chug of the potion and she was on her feet. Meanwhile, the Reinhart carriage was still under attack. The bees only stopped attacking the driver trying to get the screaming horses going when the air cracked around them.

Abruptly, every bee in a dozen feet around the carriage dropped flat, bodies mangled, as if a hand had swatted them out of the air. In the silence, the sounds of someone weeping and shrieking by turns could be heard from within the carriage.

The window slowly rolled down, and Lady Cecille Reinhart, sporting a bee sting on her cheek, glanced at Alevica being dragged into the inn by the [Innkeeper]. She eyed the bees, which had buzzed up in a huge cloud towards the inn.

“I see. The inn. Make a note of whatever this town is, Damia. Now, drive, Morry.”

Her eyes flashed as the carriage began moving without the Witch Runner or the Vampire. The Reinhart carriage sped off without a word, leaving the people of Kevaunt to wonder what the hell was going on.

And that was before the [Knights] thundered through the town.

 

——

 

The [Buzzkeeper] was someone Alevica only remembered because he had annoyed the hat off her when she’d been here last. She most certainly didn’t remember his name, or the [Receptionist]’s, but he had remembered hers.

“Innkeeper Honei, Miss Witch Runner. I saw that carriage hit you. Is the lad alright?”

Arcanis was sitting there, burned from his contact with the sunlight, as the [Innkeeper] offered a healing potion to him. Alevica was shaking her head.

The [Receptionist] was glancing at Alevica’s battered condition, too alarmed to seemingly hold a grudge.

“She hit you! Just like that! I’ve already sent another [Message] to Riverfarm; they actually contacted us, Witch Runner! They said to keep heading south.”

Alevica just stared at the [Buzzkeeper].

“That’s not your name.”

“It is indeed, Miss Alevica. I chose it myself. Can I offer you another sip of the healing potion? Honey? You need a bed. I’ll have a [Healer] in moments.”

Alevica shook her head.

“I’m…sorry.”

She flushed for reasons the [Buzzkeeper] didn’t get. Then she pushed herself up.

“Where’s your bathroom? I need a broom. We have to go. We’re being pursued.”

Despite their protests, Alevica was on her feet with Arcanis clinging to her. She accepted another swig of the healing potion, and Innkeeper Honei handed her a broom himself after a quick stop at the restroom.

“Are you sure? The bees keep away all kinds of trouble, Miss—”

“They can’t keep away what’s following us! Thank you! I’ll tell Laken what you’ve done!”

Alevica ran out of the inn, leapt on her broom, and heard the clatter of a lot of hooves the moment before she and several [Knights] of the Clairei Fields locked eyes.

Well, there went her lead. Alevica shot upwards as they drew their swords. She burst over the rooftops of the town and shot down the road. And now…they were after her.

Arrows tore through the air as the [Witch] kept her broom zigzagging, trying to gain enough height to lose her pursuers completely. But again—she dove as an arrow pierced the air she was trying to ascend, and her ability to rise was hampered by the extra weight of the boy on her back.

No, that wasn’t it. She was almost out of craft. Alevica was running low on magic, and only the boy’s faith that she’d save him was keeping them airborne. She saw the [Knights] galloping below, keeping pace with her, and cursed.

“Those bastards! If I had my wands—Arcanis, do you have any weapons?”

A sword! Heck, she’d take a bow! But the boy just managed a shaky response.

“No!”

Stupid to expect him to have anything, let alone a wand. But it made the [Knights] streaming across the ground below her doubly ironic; there had to be at least three dozen for a little boy who couldn’t stand in the sunlight without burning.

She had no magic to use. Except…Alevica bit her tongue.

If we run out of magic, we fall and die. If I don’t keep them from drawing a bead on me, I’ll be a pincushion.

As if to emphasize the point, the blurring ground beneath her was getting closer again, and Alevica saw herds of cows staring up at her. A [Knight] of Clairei Fields leapt a fence, dodged an angry bull charging her way, and loosed an arrow at Alevica. Her passenger screamed.

“Watch out!”

Alevica tried to dodge, but this one was too fast. She twisted—and Arcanis shouted. Alevica braced, and felt something kiss her ribs with a sharp point of agony—but nothing more.

“Huh?”

She glanced down as the [Knight] leapt a second fence and the bull smashed through it after her—and saw Arcanis holding an arrow. He dropped it with a cry.

“Silver!”

Had he just caught it mid-flight? They wouldn’t be so lucky next time. Alevica swung her broom around, rotating beneath another arrow, and spoke.

“Sçæptiŝ!”

Her finger produced another green orb of light and sent it shooting downwards. It wasn’t as fast as a [Light Arrow] spell, and it didn’t home—but it did blow a small chunk of dirt out of the ground and made one of the [Knights] juke left.

One spell—and about thirty arrows as a counterattack. Alevica avoided them by cutting the magic supply to her broom, so it dropped out of the air, and then breaking out of the dive and using a barn as cover. She thought she saw the city of Vaunt in the distance, but if they even got there, it’d be a miracle.

They were ahead of her now. The Order of Clairei Fields were trying to cut her off. Alevica pointed ahead and felt the wrongness of the spell. When she spoke, it felt like the air twisted, obeying the power of the word itself.

“Sçæptiŝ!”

A word of magic—the orb gathered and fired. A [Knight] raised a shield, saw the orb coming at him, and decided to dodge instead. Alevica shot through the gap he’d made. She spoke again as a [Knight] charged at her.

“Sçæptiŝ!”

This time, it hit the shield. The [Knight]’s lance dipped, proving the orb had weight to it. It was the Hag’s spell. A Tier 1 spell, or at least, Alevica assumed. So low-level they’d written it at the start of the book.

But why—why—she shot forwards and checked herself. But she wasn’t wrong.

“It’s not taking any mana?”

Her hat had the same miniscule amount as before. As for her mana pool…it was unchanged. Alevica didn’t feel tired. Was it draining some other quality in her? She stared at her finger, then saw the [Knights] behind her. The Witch Runner threw caution to the wind.

“Sçæptiŝ! Sçæptiŝ! Sçæptiŝsçæptiŝsçæptiŝsçæptiŝsçæptiŝsçæptiŝsçæptiŝsçæptiŝsçæptiŝsçæptiŝsçæptiŝ—”

Orbs of green light flashed behind her as fast as she could chant, blowing holes in the barn, hitting the ground, the horses, the [Knights]—they veered away in alarm, unprepared for the hail of magic coming their way.

“‘Ware spells! ”

“She can’t cast forever! Strike her from afar!”

They drew back, waiting for a clear shot as Alevica shot magic at anything she could see. The [Knights] dodged behind cover for a minute, two minutes…

Then they realized Alevica was not stopping. She had hurled a hundred spells already, and the only thing Alevica sensed was going was her voice.

If there is a cost, let it be one I pay later! Alevica grimly passed the field of cows. She thought she saw Vaunt now, and more of those stupid [Soldiers] practicing in the fields. Thousands of them. She just needed to get over the walls and then maybe she could fly somewhere the [Knights] couldn’t ride. Over a r—

She heard a gasp, felt the arrow land home, and felt a naked sensation on her head. Alevica reached up for her hat and saw it falling, pierced by the arrow one of the [Knights] had landed.

“Oh.”

They hit the ground hard.

 

——

 

The Order of Clairei Fields took their time approaching the downed [Witch]; she was still firing spells with that uncanny enchantment. One called for a bow and put an arrow in her good arm.

“We should kill her for collusion, [Knight-Captain]!”

“Stay your hand. She is affiliated with the Unseen Empire. It is not politic to do so—rest assured, we will investigate. Aim for the small one.”

“Arcanis. Get behind me.”

Alevica was sitting, one arm broken, the other with an arrow in it. The boy hesitated, then hid behind her back.

With a sound like a sigh, one of the [Knights] rode left; another went right. Both had bows drawn. Alevica shouted at them.

“You’re killing a child! Your class on it! I swear I’ll kill you! A [Witch]’s oath on it!”

The [Knights] paused. The [Knight-Captain] sighed and called out.

“Shoot her first, then.”

Alevica saw the bow aim towards her and gritted her teeth. There. Perfect.

“A life for a life. Honor amidst strife. Fly quick and true, little broom—bring him to safer lands, ere I meet my—”

“Alevica!”

The Witch Runner’s eyes snapped open. Her head jerked upwards. It was impossible. A brave, stupid [Innkeeper] was one thing. The honor of a [Griffin Rider] another. But she hadn’t looked for a miracle at the last moment. She wasn’t Ryoka Griffin. She was no Califor, no hero—

But Eloise might have once been.

The [Knight]’s bowstring snapped. A dozen bows exploded around Alevica, and a shadow passed overhead. Witch Eloise…on a broom?

Now I know I’m actually dead or dreaming. The little [Tea Witch] was standing on her broom and kicked it up, slowing, and then reached down.

“With me! Now!”

“Huh?”

Alevica couldn’t move if she wanted to, but Arcanis reached up, and, somehow, Eloise dragged him and Alevica onto her broom.

“Another [Witch]? Kill them b—”

Knight-Captain Merindius was having a bad day. He whirled, drawing a sword, just in time for the glowing [Force Orb] to hit him in the chest. Unlike Alevica’s spells, when this one detonated, it kicked the [Knight] clean off his horse.

He landed on his front, and the other [Knights] charging at Eloise’s overburdened broom pivoted as someone rode at them. It looked like an old man with a long knife in each hand.

It was an old man with a knife in each hand. One of the [Knights] was so perplexed she didn’t keep her shield up. She had full plate armor on. And a helmet.

Typhenous jabbed the long blade of the knife straight through the grille of the visor with a sound Alevica wouldn’t forget. He passed by the second [Knight] and didn’t stab until he could lean under the [Knight]’s startled swing.

His second blade went up under the weaker armpit, and the [Knight] screamed. Both of the injured [Knights] did. The one stabbed in the face wasn’t dead—but as she wrenched her visor down, she shrieked—then vomited—then fell off her horse.

That was the poison. The Plague Mage raced through the [Knights], blades slashing. He aimed at the weak points of their armor, but mostly—he struck the horses where their barding didn’t protect them.

The slight scratches drove the poor animals crazy; they threw their riders or went off galloping, screaming at the top of their lungs. Typhenous whirled his horse as Eloise turned.

“Typhenous! Follow me!”

Alevica couldn’t track what was going on.

“Wha—wha—?”

The old man raced after Eloise as the rest of the [Knights] roared in outrage and pursued them. But now, he was casting magic; a second [Force Orb] exploded, and the old man raised a hand to his lips like someone blowing them a kiss.

“[Poison Cloud].”

The [Knights] swerved out of the green cloud in a moment, shouting in real panic.

“Avoid! Avoid!”

Alevica whispered to Eloise as the [Witch] kept them flying over Typhenous.

“…Isn’t that a war crime?”

“Apparently not in the Unseen Empire. Are you alright, Alevica?”

Eloise was struggling to keep her broom straight with three passengers. Alevica saw the [Knights] coming after Typhenous hell-for-leather, and the old man…he was laughing.

“You’d better have some more tricks, Eloise, or he’s dead and all of us soon after.”

Alevica begged Eloise, and the [Tea Witch] glanced ahead.

“I believe I’ve had enough of last-minute rescues for several lifetimes, Alevica. As for help—”

She flew down, slowing her broom slightly, and Alevica nearly screamed at her. Then she heard wild shouting—and men and women in cheap leather and less-expensive steel armor were racing forwards, surrounding the confused Order of Clairei.

“Drop your weapons! Drop ‘em!”

“Those [Witches] are under our protection! In the name of the Unseen Empire!”

Alevica saw hundreds of [Soldiers] charging below her. Her mouth dropped. Typhenous was almost lost in the crush, but Eloise singled him out and slowed. The Tea Witch leapt off her broom, then felt at her back.

“It makes me feel like a fool rushing all the way here overnight. Typhenous, she’s bleeding.”

“Let’s get that arrow out. Where’s the lad?”

Arcanis clung to Alevica as the [Soldiers] and the Order of the Clairei Fields began shouting at each other. The [Knights] backed up in confusion and fury, suddenly outnumbered.

The Unseen Empire? Had Laken sent Wiskeria north? But it had been less than a day from when she’d sent the call for help to Eloise! Did Laken have more [Soldiers]? Alevica didn’t recognize any of them. 

An army that could march all the way from Riverfarm to Kevaunt in less than a day? There were even more coming this way. There was no such army! Then Alevica heard the shouts.

“In the name of His Majesty of Riverfarm! Surrender now or you’ll face the [Soldiers] of Vaunt!”

“The Cheesemongers! Raise the flag! Gershal’s Cheesemongers!”

Then Alevica understood.

 

——

 

“Vaunt.”

Laken Godart turned to Rie with a huge smile on his face as the pieces clicked together. He had asked for the impossible. And she had delivered.

“Vaunt, Your Majesty. Namely, Lord Pattin, who convinced his father to lend you a bunch of rowdy and, to him, expensive and useless [Soldiers]. He gets paid…”

“We get an army. And they’ve stopped the Order of Clairei Fields cold?”

“So Magus Typhenous reports. But the Order is following them south. They’re bound for Riverfarm at all due speed.”

“I thought it was faster to send Alevica by Invrisil?”

Laken frowned, trying to map out what was going on in his head. He had been on tenterhooks, demanding to know if Alevica was alright. There were all kinds of conflicting reports; a Griffin attack, one of the Reinharts showing up, bees—but Eloise had made it just in time.

Rie clarified for Laken.

“I mean Vaunt’s forces, Your Majesty. And the Order of Clairei Fields. They didn’t dare challenge that many [Soldiers], but they are making for Riverfarm. With reinforcements. House Byres among them. Alevica will be here tonight. The Order of Clairei Fields—two days, perhaps.”

“I see. Then I want someone to check on her the moment she gets here. Have the boy she rescued given a personal guard and watch out for [Assassins]. No—get me an escort in Invrisil too. No one is going to harm them. Now, get me Yitton Byres.”

Laken Godart was calm now. He waited until Nesor was able to set up a [Communication] spell.

“Lord Yitton?”

“Your Majesty, I have just received a disturbing communication. The Order of Clairei Fields pursued one of your subjects? It appears one of your [Witches] acted with honorable intentions, but the incident is escalating. I am relieved to get in touch with you.”

Yitton sounded worried. Laken analyzed his words.

“Honorable intentions? Yes, quite, Lord Yitton. The Order of the Clairei Fields attacked Alevica while she was rescuing a child; I gather they torched an entire village. Then they attacked more of my people. Thankfully, they’re all unharmed, but I understand the [Knights] are heading south. With some of your people.”

There was a pause on the other end of the speaking stone.

“That is…not my understanding of the events, Your Majesty. I am riding south myself to head off any tragedies. May we speak frankly to avoid an incident?”

Laken stretched out in his chair, voice mellow. Relaxed. He knew Rie was listening in along with some of his court. He even chuckled.

“Of course, Lord Yitton! But please, don’t trouble yourself with the ride. I have things well in hand.”

“I’m relieved you understand, Your Majesty. The Grandmaster of the Order of Clairei Fields is quite worked up, but if we discuss the matter—House d’Artien is also passionate, as are several of the other groups. I will speak to them as soon as the issue of Witch Alevica is cleared up. But I rather feel I should be there in person. Just in case.”

“You do that, Lord Yitton. But I do insist that you not ride south. Indeed, please tell your own people to not head to Riverfarm. Anyone who does cross the borders with malice, forethought, or in the company of the Order of the Clairei Fields will not be coming back. I should hate for you to lose any vassals.”

There was an intake of breath and then silence on the other end of the speaking stone.

“Is that…a threat, Your Majesty? Your [Witch] has in her company a Vampire. A danger to all Izril.”

“Witch Alevica has what I understand to be a nine-year-old boy in her company, Lord Yitton. If he’s an Adult Creler in disguise, I rather think I’ll find out after I talk to him. Call your people off. If they cross my borders, I won’t differentiate between them.”

“Emperor Godart. You cannot be serious—”

Laken’s voice rose, and he shouted into the speaking stone.

“Bring an army, Yitton. Or bring your best explanations and your honor! Because I don’t see any! Attack any members of Riverfarm again and you will see how serious I am.”

He threw the speaking stone, and Nesor ran after it. Only after Laken had stopped shaking with fury did Lady Rie cough.

“Your Majesty, it might be a poor choice of words given that you cannot see at all.”

The [Emperor]’s head turned with such wrath that she coughed.

“—Lord Yitton is likely to take your warning seriously. But this might come to actual strife. The Cheesemongers of Vaunt are as yet untrained.”

“How much of an army can the Order of Clairei Fields and all these vampire-hunting wannabees muster? Have Wiskeria move the army to the border. I will be there myself. More miracles, Lady Rie?”

The [Lady] paused. Then, to his gratification, she laughed softly.

“I think I can manage one more, Your Majesty.”

 

——

 

Lord Yitton Byres did indeed try to convince the Grandmaster of the Order of Clairei Fields to call his people back. And the Grandmaster was actually less apocalyptically furious than Yitton had hinted.

Grandmaster Noveghin Teler was a good, honorable man, the likes of which belonged at the head of a [Knight] order. He wasn’t as stout as some figures of note that could lead by sheer weight of arms. He was wiry and shorter than average. A perfect [Rider], if not a leader of men.

It was silly that height often correlated to respect, in Yitton’s view of things. The same with levels; they were a good bar to measure by, but Yitton Byres tended to judge a man by his deeds and conduct, not by his mere appearance.

It was one reason he and Emperor Godart had become friends. A friendship…now in question.

“I cannot stop Knight-Captain Merindius, Lord Byres. He and his [Knights] are nearly upon Riverfarm. I fear they will cross the border and attempt to slay the…Vampire regardless of any force mustered. I also note to you that House d’Artien has sent two thousand armsmen. An incredible number that I hope you can keep from escalating this situation.”

Noveghin was as happy about all this as Yitton as the two rode fast for Riverfarm’s borders. The problem was simple: there was a schism in the Order of Clairei Fields between the Vampire Hunters and those [Knights] who did not subscribe to the conflict. That opposition ranged from outright denial of the issue to hesitation towards the extremes of the hunters.

Noveghin had remained firmly in the middle of the camps, but he was under pressure—not least because [Vampire Hunters] levelled up proportionally to the foes they slew. The breakaway faction was rapidly overtaking other elements of his order.

Lord Yitton Byres was, as a supporter of Delanay d’Artien and the [Vampire Hunters], nominally opposed to Noveghin, but the mutual respect both men held didn’t prohibit this conversation.

Indeed, Yitton Byres nodded instantly to Noveghin’s statement.

“Conflict with the Unseen Empire is the last thing I desire, Grandmaster Noveghin. His Majesty, Emperor Godart, is a friend of mine. I regret it has come to this. I hope all sides can see reason here. If you can stop your Knight-Captain, I advise you in strongest terms to do so. His Majesty…has warned me that anyone who crosses his borders will be treated as an enemy.”

Noveghin’s face grew even more pinched with worry as his horse, a long-legged Jecrassian Strider, picked up even more speed. Their ride was so swift that both men had to speak through visors; a fly hitting them at speed hurt, and Noveghin had warned Yitton he’d seen men lose eyes from that sort of thing.

…Yitton had assumed it was a joke, but he kept his helmet on. Three days had passed since the inciting chase with the [Witch]; by now, he was closing on the Unseen Empire’s borders. That Grandmaster Noveghin had reached the same position as the neighboring House Byres was a testament to his Order’s speed.

That House d’Artien had managed it spoke to their backing and funding.

“Two thousand armsmen is a fantastic number of men, Lord Byres. How can House d’Artien raise that many? I would have thought that was the limit of their muster a year ago.”

“Their fortunes have risen with the issue of Vampires, Grandmaster.”

“The same for House Byres then.”

The comment was sharp, and Yitton coughed into a fist. He’d brought merely three hundred men with him—though he had to admit, that was more than he would have been comfortable with at any other time.

“I won’t deny that House Byres’ fortunes are swinging back from the disaster of the sabotage of our mines and mansion, Grandmaster.”

“Convince me of this Vampire issue, then, Lord Byres. I’ve talked with Lord Delanay. He’s as fired as a Rhirian about them. But you’re a man known for his probity. They tell me the Vampire is…a child. Half the [Knights] with me would sooner remove their class than take on Knight-Captain Merindius’ position. Yet none can deny how dangerous they are.”

“Have you seen one of them fighting, Grandmaster?”

A slight shudder from Noveghin was Yitton’s answer. Yitton himself felt a chill, remembering the inhumanly fast battle when Delanay had uncovered one of the Vampires before his eyes.

He tried to answer Noveghin fairly. The comment about Yitton’s integrity was what Yitton himself was most proud about. A man could lose it in a moment after building it up for years.

He was only disheartened Laken Godart thought so little of him as to not heed his words now. Yitton spoke as he glanced back at the forces riding behind them. Armed with silver and steel; there were thousands of orders for his arms coming from the north, and the specialty Byres metal; even from Drakes and overseas.

“I cannot deny the Vampire issue is…helpful to House Byres, Grandmaster. Do I prefer this to our fading away? Yes. Does House d’Artien embrace it for the same reasons? In all honesty, Delanay’s family may be more attracted to their rising fortunes. Delanay always believed the old stories, however. As a boy, he’d sit with me and talk stories of Vampires, even hunt for them…”

He’d always seemed a bit of a dreamer to Yitton. But he’d been right. Dead gods. Yitton cleared his throat.

“Let me be frank. The…age of the Vampire is disturbing. I shan’t deny that the reports of my own people clearing villages seems extreme, and I have cautioned temperance.”

“Clearing villages. You mean eradicating them down to the last dog and chicken? They torch the remains, Lord Byres. Some of my [Knights] have gone to see the aftermath, and they couldn’t even find the remains; it was just scorched earth. Explain the necessity of that. Children!”

“There are monsters by the same name—”

“Spare me the arguments of the ‘Vampire Hunters’, please. I know Children as monsters. They wear all the faces of real children, but they don’t speak. Vampires do.”

Yitton fell silent. Noveghin’s voice was agitated; his horse was baring its teeth, reflecting the attitude of his master. The [Lord] of House Byres knew that the other [Knights] riding around him were doubtless listening in. He had one chance: so the [Lord] did what he always did. He answered honestly.

Closing his eyes, Lord Yitton Byres sat straight on his saddle, a man whose own blonde hair had gone to silver, like his family fortunes, a waning star against his legacy. His armor, his sword, his family had all been more glorious in yesteryears. What kept Yitton proud was that; if he was neither the warrior nor the merchant of Byres’ past, he had not disgraced that legacy.

So he spoke to that as well as Noveghin’s morality on Vampires. Why did it matter? It went to the heart of what Lord Yitton believed.

“The Nights of Blood. It is written in the annals of House Byres, Grandmaster Noveghin, these dark days. A time so long past they have been forgotten in most annals of history; a time when Vampires ruled Izril. When they treated mortals like livestock and murdered and slaughtered until they were brought down. A threat said to be as horrific as the Selphid Empires, the Domination of Form.”

A faint shudder ran through a few [Knights] and some of his armsmen, but Noveghin replied softly.

“…That could be said of any species.”

“True. But the histories of House Byres paint an unequivocal threat, Grandmaster. I shall not list the debaucheries, but suffice it to say they were like a plague, ruling from the shadows. The Walled Cities and Gnollish tribes were infiltrated; when the Vampires were brought down, it was because all the continents brought wrath against them. Even the Continent of Glass; the scouring took decades, and the war was dreadful. They should have been wiped out. The fact so many exist suggest a return in secret, a long-plotted revenge. Small wonder Delanay is so alarmed; the Five Families and Walled Cities understand the threat.”

“I know. I understand there is…considerable support for my people and your Vampire Hunters. But children, Lord Byres.”

“Goblins have children.”

Noveghin twisted in his saddle and replied sharply.

“I have heard it said you helped escort hundreds to Riverfarm out of mercy.”

Yitton nodded judiciously.

“I did. And I don’t regret that choice. It was Emperor Laken’s decision; his reasoning was that not all Goblins were as evil as the Goblin Lord. When a Goblin King rises, they are a world-ending threat. But I did see…what I will call humanity in many of them. It was a worthwhile experiment, to see if they would break from the nature of Goblin Kings.

“Not so for Vampires?”

The Grandmaster was patently confused, and Yitton Byres shook his head. He had to be clear; he lifted a hand.

“It sits ill with me, Grandmaster Noveghin. But here is the difference: few records speak of Goblins as people outside of the Goblin Kings. There are, in fact, stories of Goblins who acted honorably. At the very least, I am no expert, and so I approved the attempt, even if I would not countenance them in House Byres. His Majesty of Riverfarm may err, but I did not gainsay him in any but words. Yet Vampires?”

He pulled something from his bag of holding and gently showed it to Noveghin. It was an old copy of his family history, hand-scribed; the sixth copy made to keep the ink and pages fresh. Well-thumbed.

“This is the diary of Lord Ylawe of House Byres, who led House Byres over 5,700 years ago.”

“Dead gods.”

Noveghin took it gingerly, and Yitton could have told him most of the lines in the book by heart. He didn’t mention that some of his knowledge of Vampires came from the diary of Lord Ylawe as recounting of previous wars; they had preserved his diary, but lost older texts of even greater conflicts. Yet the bitter writings of Lord Ylawe were enough.

Yitton kept speaking, thinking of the family library—now ash—and a bitter cloud of anger took hold of his heart. They’d salvaged as much as they could, and other members of the family had copies, but so much had been lost…yet the proof was in this book alone.

“It is written, Grandmaster Noveghin, of how the blood corrupts Vampires. There are statements, evidentiary tales, even the words of the Silver Dragon of House Byres, Yderigrisel himself. Why are Vampires different? Because it is written by House Byres. The warnings were made for a reason. I trust my family, my forebears, beyond any other knowledge, even my own wavering heart. House Byres has always been silver and steel, and the purity of that shines through the ages.”

The [Knights], his men, all looked at Yitton’s face, which was proud. The [Lord] kept speaking, embarrassed, but the words trickled out of him, the rare words he never said aloud but kept in his breast at all times, even when others belittled him, that had guided his life.

“We may be a shadow of our glory, the Silver Dragon passed, but our legacy is untarnished. I am part of that legacy, Noveghin. My daughter, Ysara… has never understood that. I regret to say that Yvlon never did either. She has pride, but she thought it was something to earn, to best her brother at. Ylawes…Ylawes understands what it is to be a Byres. He never sought glory or acclaim; his is in the deeds he renders for his legacy.”

Yitton was embarrassed about saying that about Yvlon and Ysara. He wished he’d kept his mouth shut, but it had slipped out. Ysara was obvious; he had wished Yvlon would understand, especially when she’d been blessed with her metal arms.

At least the Grandmaster seemed to understand what Yitton was saying. He closed the book and handed it back to Yitton.

“Ylawes Byres is well known to me as a [Knight] and adventurer beyond reproach. I understand; this guides you in the matters of the child.”

Yitton shrugged uncomfortably.

“I…would be open to imprisonment or some other means, Grandmaster Noveghin. But my stance on Vampires is informed and mirrors that of Delanay. Our warnings are not in place for no reason. The Dragon-Knight himself warred with Vampires. We face a foe from the age of legends. Are the Vampire Hunters being overzealous? Or is this response too mild? My fear is that we may all come to regret inaction. But I will not have us divided. Hence my appeal to His Majesty.”

The Grandmaster of the Order of the Clairei Fields drank this in. When he nodded, it was reluctantly. He flipped his visor open to show Yitton a conflicted face.

“—I will not abandon my Order, Lord Byres. When we face the Unseen Empire, it will be united. But if my blade should draw a boy’s blood, I will tremble before my class and my own forebears. I will send warning to Knight-Captain Merindius and likewise to all the Hunters. He shall stay his blade before me, both for relations with the Unseen Empire and honor itself. As for the rest, I make no promises.”

Yitton Byres inclined his head, relieved at the compromise they had reached. The two men continued to ride hard as the [Message] went forwards. Yitton was just relaxing, counting a large army between the Order of Clairei Fields, the Vampire Hunters converging on Riverfarm, and House d’Artien. Laken would see sense; his forces were not so great that he would force a conflict.

Then he and Grandmaster Noveghin received word that the [Knights] of the Clairei Fields had acknowledged the words of their Grandmaster.

They had, accordingly, sped up.

 

——

 

Nearly sixty [Knights] of the Clairei Fields broke from the chase between them and the Cheesemongers of Vaunt, who had been riding under Lord Pattin to keep them in check. The Vampire Hunters on foot halted at the border.

The [Knights] did not. They crossed past the first totems and straight into the Unseen Empire, moving so fast that Riverfarm’s army, led by General Wiskeria, was unable to catch them.

The action was disavowed by the Grandmaster of the Order of Clairei Fields at once; House Byres, his [Knights], and House d’Artien halted along the border, requesting a parlay.

Nearly sixty rogue [Knights] continued onwards. Within the first hour of crossing the Unseen Empire, heading towards Riverfarm, they came under attack.

 

——

 

Knight-Captain Merindius twisted in his saddle to stare at the snow. At first, he’d thought it was stone or something else. But it was snow.

“How much snow fell to still be on the ground?”

Despite the speed of their ride, the [Knight] wondered aloud. It was a winter wonderland; an entire village and the fields covered in snow. It was even on the roofs of the houses. He’d sworn he’d seen some falling down as his company of [Knights] rode through the Unseen Empire at dawn.

But that had to be just the wind causing the illusion. The [Knight-Captain] shook his head and urged his mount forwards.

They had a Vampire to slay. They had been halted from catching the [Witch] by the [Soldiers] of Vaunt and the other [Witch]—but they had it on good authority the child was in Riverfarm, the capital of this Empire.

Speed would allow the [Knights] to catch the spawn and settle the matter; nevermind what the Grandmaster said. A message had to be made. The Order of Clairei Fields had been denied at this very spot once before. Not again. The [Knights] did not intend to draw innocent blood…but they wouldn’t halt after coming under attack and seeing their own wounded.

No one could catch up with them; they had lost the Cheesemongers of Vaunt and what had seemed like a decent army led by a [Witch] miles past. Merindius had wondered what the [Emperor] of Riverfarm would do in response to the intrusion, but if he had any forces, they had yet to even catch up.

—The attack was sudden and came out of nowhere. One of the [Knights] skirting the snow shouted in alarm and went tumbling out of her saddle. The others whirled; an enchanted arrow blew apart the attacker before Merindius could even identify who it was.

“Avoid unnecessary casualties! Is our Sister Knight alright?”

“Alive, Knight-Captain!”

The [Knights] slowed a pace, looking around for attackers, as the female [Knight] got into her saddle, breathless.

“It was something heavy that unhorsed me, Knight-Captain. Fear not; my [Damage Shield] absorbed it.”

[Damage Shield]. Merindius felt a tinge of envy himself as he spurred his horse to pick up the pace.

“A Skill fit for your level, Knight. Switch from enchanted munitions. Aim to wound, not t—”

“Attack!”

Another cry; the [Knights] broke out of formation as something landed around them. Merindius leveled his lance, accelerating into a blinding charge as another attacker emerged from the ground! They were in the snow! He rode down on the foe, then blinked at a—

“—Snow Golem?”

Merindius’ lance pierced the Snow Golem’s head, and it collapsed. He twisted in his saddle as another went down, launching huge snowballs at the [Knights]. They were under attack fr—

“Knight-Captain! The hill! The hiiiiill!”

The [Knight-Captain] didn’t understand what was going on. They were riding past a hill next to the village. He stared at the top of it, looking for the foe…until he realized the top of the hill was rising.

“Name of winter.”

He breathed as the largest Snow Golem…no, a hill of snow slowly pivoted, and the Order of Clairei Fields split around it. A Snow Golem? One under the control of someone? Or just a rogue one so powerful it had defied the spring?

Then Merindius saw a flicker of something bright and pale dancing around the Snow Golem’s head. He narrowed his eyes, and a wispy thing seemed to fly around the Snow Golem’s head—then into the mass of snow. He swore he saw the giant Snow Golem jerk…then it opened its ‘mouth’ and vomited an avalanche of snow at the riders.

“Evade! Don’t fight it!”

The Order of the Clairei Fields dodged the avalanche—most of them. Several [Knights] went down, their horses screaming, and Merindius saw explosions of fire breaking pieces off the Snow Golem’s body. It roared silently and pursued them several thousand feet, but the [Knights] were quickly past it.

“What was that? A trick of the Unseen Emperor? He’s supposed to control beasts, not Snow Golems! Do we go back for our comrades?”

Shaken, the [Knights] tried to regroup. Merindius eyed the Snow Golem; it didn’t seem to be savaging the downed riders. It had actually collapsed back into a hill. A defensive Skill that animates the snow? He pointed.

“Two of you, go back and—”

They were passing across several fields of crops being grown in this area of Riverfarm. Huge beet fields, many nearing harvest Merindius saw a [Knight] pass by a scarecrow, all straw and silly clothing hung up on a cross. Then he saw the scarecrow’s painted head rise, and a foot made out of straw kicked the [Knight] in the face.

That was all the warning the [Knights] had before they were jumped by four scarecrows, two of which had hoes.

 

——

 

The scarecrows went down in seconds. They were hardly a match for steel and Skills, but the attack rattled the Order of Clairei Fields. They abandoned the fields and hit the roads.

“Stay away from snow. And the fields.”

“And the trees! A tree just took out Knight Meredith! It hit her in the face with a branch.”

A group of [Knights] galloped out of the forest, and Merindius stared at them.

“What? Treants? Those don’t exist!”

“It was some kind of little wood-thing. Like a carved piece of—”

They were under attack! It was like the earth itself had taken up a grudge with them! The Order of Clairei Fields soon realized that entering any natural area of land, be it snow, marsh, forest, or field, would attract some kind of threat.

Little…sprites? Things like Winter Faeries, but more defined, would bring things to life, conjuring roots to trip the horses or even animating things like scarecrows.

The solution was then to stick to the roads, which there were plenty of. But that led to other problems.

“Attack! Arrows! Shields up!”

The first actual arrows hit one of the [Knights] from afar, and they kept their shields raised as they sighted the archer. A lone figure in a tower; Merindius stared.

“That’s a village.”

It was indeed. A single village—and a lot of angry villagers shooting bows and hurling rocks from slings behind a half-finished wall. The one in the tower launched another arrow over the distance, and a [Knight]’s shield caught the arrow.

“Do we respond, Knight-Captain?”

They had bows and armor; it wouldn’t be hard to take the village. It was like any Merindius could have named across Izril. Only, the wall in progress seemed new and expensive given the size of the village.

A lot of houses…and the streets looked paved? Merindius was debating loosing some arrows in retaliation when he heard a thump. Then he looked up and saw a rock coming their way.

“[Serpentine Maneuver]! Evade!”

The…catapult was a reconfigured trebuchet altered for direct fire that threw a giant rock at them, then a shower of stones. The Order of Clairei Fields beat a retreat as several [Knights] took a battering, despite their shields.

“Avoid the villages! Get us to Riverfarm—now!”

The [Knight-Captain] bellowed at his subordinates. He was realizing, belatedly, that this was a trap. It closed as he saw a familiar figure breach a forest nearby.

Knight-Captain Merindius locked eyes with the Witch Runner, and he swore she waved at him. Then she opened fire.

 

——

 

[Witch of Malice Level 34!]

[Skill – Doublechant Incantation Obtained!]

[Skill – Homing Spell obtained!]

 

Of course, that had been when she’d woken up three days ago after getting Arcanis to safety. Today was payback.

 

“Sçæptiŝ, Sçæptiŝ, Sçæptiŝ, Sçæptiŝ, Sçæptiŝ, Sçæptiŝ, Sçæptiŝ, Sçæptiŝ, Sçæptiŝ, Sçæptiŝ, Sçæptiŝ, Sçæptiŝ, Sçæptiŝ.”

“Sçæptiŝ, Sçæptiŝ, Sçæptiŝ, Sçæptiŝ, Sçæptiŝ, Sçæptiŝ, Sçæptiŝ, Sçæptiŝ, Sçæptiŝ, Sçæptiŝ, Sçæptiŝ, fuck you, Sçæptiŝ—”

 

[Doublechant Incantation] meant you could do two incantations at once. It was actually really hard to do, but if you had a single word you were repeating…the result was that she got to fire a hail of pallid green bolts down on the stupid [Knights], and they couldn’t do shit about it.

They had bows, but Alevica just flew several thousand feet out of range and lobbed the energy bolts down. It didn’t matter if they dodged the slower-moving projectiles. They curved after the [Knights], and if she missed the first hundred shots, so what?

She had unlimited more of them. Eat shit.

Alevica still didn’t even get the magic. As far as she could tell, it had no costs. None to her mental state, craft, or mana pool. She’d suspected there would be some kind of hidden cost like waking up to realize she’d sacrificed her health or something like that.

But nothing. Three days later and she only had a sore throat from so much chanting. Well, this time, she had honey tea and five minutes of warm up tongue twisters.

And the world’s first free, unlimited spell? Alevica was testing out the limits right now, and it was as insane as she’d hoped it would be.

Laken had called it a ‘cantrip’. A free spell from a game he claimed to have played a few times.

Alevica had no idea what he was talking about. But she watched the first [Knight] go flying off his horse with great satisfaction.

About forty-seven left. Way too many. But Riverfarm’s counterattack had just begun. A few arrows sailed well clear of her, but she pulled up another hundred feet just in case. She was just the opening. Alevica glanced down and heard a scream from a bird, a screech to raise the hairs on the back of your neck.

It was echoed…about a thousandfold as a murder of crows took to the skies. Despite herself, Alevica’s chanting slowed.

“Sçæptiŝ, Sçæptiŝ—dead gods, Mavika.”

The Margravine of Riverfarm dove with the ravens of hell at her back, each one twice as large as regular. There went twelve [Knights]; the rest hacked and cut at the birds. Then they realized something else:

Alevica was not the only [Witch] who could fly. The Witch Runner herself looked down as the third flight-capable [Witch] demonstrated that she only kept from flying because she viewed it as a waste of magic, like Eloise.

But you had to admit—Witch Thallisa had style.

 

——

 

He swore he heard music a moment before he saw the [Witch] flying at them. It sounded like the first time Knight-Captain Merindius had heard a [Bard] play—then he saw her.

A [Witch], robes whirling behind her, an overly tall patchwork hat made of fallen [Witches]’ hats and a cape blowing in the wind.

Standing on her ‘broom’, whose branches blew in the wind as the [Knights] fleeing the crows tried to swerve out of the way. But the tree slammed into the middle of them as Witch Thallisa banked it around, sending figures flying.

“Get to the town now!”

There was no chance of fighting the [Witches]; even if Merindius had wanted to—and he did—the thousands of crows would tear the horses to pieces. As for the one flying above…they couldn’t contest her. He wasn’t even sure what to do about the flying tree.

However, Riverfarm was in view. The Order of Clairei Fields tried to make for it, twenty-some strong. Then their view of the town vanished. The world went dark—and Merindius heard a whoop before the Darksky Riders were on them.

Blind, galloping into the fray with a group of [Riders] led by Beniar, the [Knights] fought blindly, accelerating as some of them got past the final barricade between them and the village.

They stormed into the heart of Riverfarm, shedding the blindness Skill, dodging pots and rocks thrown at them by villagers literally walling off the street. When they spotted their quarry, they found the boy hiding behind a line of [Witches] and a blind man.

A line of armed warriors blocked the [Knights] as they tried to charge the boy. They could have dismounted or surrendered, but they were filled with rage.

Blind with it.

The [Emperor] of Riverfarm waited until they were within earshot. Then he swirled the cape that Thallisa had given him and called out.

“Horses, I will feed you to the Goblins if you come this way.”

The Cape of Voices worked. The horses skidded to a stop, ignoring all the attempts of their riders to keep them moving. They reared; a dozen bedraggled [Knights] leapt from their saddles and charged.

Half of them went down before they got to Laken. An angry [Fisher] netted one; Nesor took another down with a spell, and Laken swore he saw Rie and Eloise trip one with a Skill. Spells from the [Witches] battered the rest, shields or not—and the last reached melee range.

Gamel blinded his foe before charging in; Hedag, hat full of craft, took two off their feet with a single swing; Geram, the [Fistfighter] and Rie’s bodyguard, got a fourth. Typhenous strode forwards with his knife, and Laken saw the last one, the [Knight-Captain], stumbling forward, sword raised.

There was a triple line between him and Arcanis—and Cirsa and Malluni were shielding the Vampire with their bodies. Even so, Laken raised his own cane, and Bismarck roared a challenge as the [Knight] roared back, his blade glowing.

“Spawn of blood—”

Laken regretted even letting Arcanis see the [Knights]. The boy didn’t deserve what Gamel’s Skill showed Laken; a face contorted with rage, lost to sense or anything resembling common humanity.

Kill him. Laken almost gave the order, but he’d told the others to avoid killing the [Knights] if possible. He wanted to—and he was grateful that the choice was taken out of his hands.

The [Knight-Captain] was still a dangerous man, unhorsed and alone or not. His blade glowed with menacing light, but before he got in range of Mister Ram hefting a shovel, or the other militia, someone intercepted him.

The [Knight] turned and slashed, cutting across a woman’s chest. He faltered for a moment; he’d attacked an unarmored woman with nothing in her hands but a bedsheet.

However, Briganda’s maid uniform caught the blow and produced a sound like metal meeting steel. She winked a huge eye at her son, watching from the crowd.

“[Uniform of Steel]. [Wardrobe Change]!”

She swept the cloth over Knight-Captain Merindius and then…well, Laken had always been curious about sight. He’d lived his life without needing it, but the ability to see with Gamel’s Skill was a welcome, fascinating ability.

He had never wanted to know what a naked man looked like. The Knight-Captain staggered; stared down at his nude form as his armor fell to the ground in a pile.

“Oh. Er.”

Briganda realized she had a lot of younger people in the audience. Arcanis respectfully held his hands up in front of Cirsa’s and Malluni’s eyes. The [Knight] pivoted, eyes bulging. He raised his sword, and Briganda kicked him in the groin so hard that Laken swore he felt it.

The [Emperor] was still wincing when Briganda followed it up with a Captain Todi special—which was kicking the same spot as the [Knight] went over. Then…

Well, Laken had to have someone stop Hedag from executing the ones she’d taken down. And he told Frostwing to stop pecking at the [Knight-Captain] and for Cirsa and Malluni to stop kicking him.

Eventually.

 

——

 

“Looks like the [Knights] were stopped cold. Beniar’s on his way. So’s His Majesty, General.”

Wiskeria turned from the standoff with House Byres. She had been counting and monitoring the situation in Riverfarm with her own magic.

She let out a huge sigh as Tessia informed her of the good news. The [Engineer] and a small team of her people were attached to Riverfarm’s army. They’d broken from setting up their siege weapons to inform Wiskeria of the latest from Riverfarm. Not that Wiskeria had been in too much doubt; that just left the army led by Lord Yitton.

She had about three thousand [Soldiers] with her. House Byres had three hundred [Soldiers] plus two hundred [Knights] of the Clairei Fields. If that wasn’t bad enough, there were two thousand more armsmen from House d’Artien and a lot of Vampire Hunters.

Not that she expected to go to war this instant, but Wiskeria recognized a pissing match when she saw one; her mother had lots of stories about them. The [Witch]-[General] adjusted her hat.

“Alright. Wait for His Majesty’s arrival. Keep digging those trenches. Tessia, set up those cata-trebs over there.”

They were a mix of trebuchet and catapult; Tessia licked her lips nervously as she eyed the very unhappy soldiers at the border to the Unseen Empire.

“Are you sure, Wiskeria? If we make the Order of Clairei Fields angry—there’s hundreds of [Knights].”

Wiskeria glanced at the [Knights], who were making a ‘show of force’. She rolled her eyes.

“Emperor Laken’s orders. They stop here. They cross the border? It’s going to be a battle, Tessia, and good luck to Lord Yitton. You just set up as if they’re coming at us. They won’t—but if they do, I want you ready. Besides…two hundred [Knights]?”

Wiskeria laughed to herself.

“The Order of Hydra could wipe out the Clairei Fields with a single legion.”

Tessia was hardly as sanguine as Wiskeria. Riverfarm’s [Soldiers] had seen combat, but they weren’t that well-armed compared to the army across from them. They did have irregulars; several angry Law Elementals were flashing the other side with bright lights, and Beniar’s group and any [Witches] who wanted to show up would be a threat. But the battle wasn’t one Tessia liked considering as it stood.

“Yes, well—got any legions of [Knights] under your hat, Wiskeria?”

Wiskeria just glanced up at the sky, where she suspected at least some people were watching the showdown take place. Riverfarm had a lot to lose reputationally either way. But the [General] just smiled. She tipped her hat at a faint, winged shape that vanished behind a patch of clouds. Then she turned to Tessia with a smile.

“Something almost as good.”

 

——

 

News of Knight-Captain Merindius’ capture and attack in the Unseen Empire forced Grandmaster Noveghin to make a decision: press forwards and risk a battle or wait. Despite advocacy from within his ranks, he held his ground, signaling for a parlay with the [Emperor].

House d’Artien was far less sanguine about the catapult-hybrids aiming at their ranks; The Order of Clairei Fields could dodge or survive a volley, but the armsmen wouldn’t be so lucky. They were advancing, demanding the [Engineers] cease setting up the siege weapons, when the scouts at their rear signaled movement.

A tremendous chorus of howls broke the forest behind the Vampire Hunters’ forces. When Lord Yitton turned, he saw the standard of Lord Gralton Radivaek break the trees and hundreds of baying hounds and even more [Soldiers] taking up a flanking position.

House Lycit. The [Dog Lord] stared across the field at Lord Yitton Byres before issuing an order for the Vampire Hunters to withdraw.

Well, order to withdraw was the gist of it.

“—your flea ridden hides off the border before I neuter the damn lot of you!”

“Gralton? What is he doing here?”

“Taking your [Emperor]’s side. We’ve been flanked.”

Grandmaster Noveghin’s voice was remarkably calm for a man now faced with a force to his rear and outnumbered. But again, the Order of Clairei Fields was probably confident it could disengage and reposition no matter what happened.

No—he was calm because he didn’t intend to go into battle. If anything, he seemed relaxed as he sat on his saddle. Yitton was all tension.

Laken had to see sense! He was a reasonable man, Yitton knew from their discussions, but an arrogant one. If he took the side of Vampires…

“Lord Byres! Should we withdraw? Lord Delanay claims he can be here with as many as six hundred more Vampire Hunters within two days.”

“In two days’ time, the Cheesemongers of Vaunt get here and double Riverfarm’s numbers again. Not that this is a battle.”

Yitton snapped at House d’Artien’s [Messenger]. He saw one of the noble family members peering at the forces behind his. Wardogs were howling behind Yitton, and the [Lord] knew it wouldn’t come to battle…but he didn’t relish the idea of a pack of armored dogs charging, even in his head.

“Lord Byres. If we fall back to regroup, we can prevail on aid. Double our numbers?”

A [Lord] with the bright red clothing of House d’Artien called out as he rode over. Yitton stared at him.

“From where? House d’Artien and House Byres don’t have that many armsmen, Lord Malst.”

Malst gave Yitton a bright grin; he was Delanay’s cousin, and he raised his voice as Grandmaster Noveghin turned.

“I’ll wager you could muster a thousand men, Lord Byres. We could do more ourselves, but if we prevailed upon our allies…a number of local cities might turn out their garrisons.”

Turn out their garrisons? What city would do that for two minor noble houses? Yitton was about to politely call the statement ludicrous…until he had a thought.

A member of the Five Families or a powerful noble house could probably do that. He hesitated.

“This is not a battle.”

“No, Lord Byres. But if this [Emperor] thinks to strongarm us, he’ll have another thing coming. Let’s pretend to withdraw and come back with the Dog Lord out of position.”

“Lord Gralton is a trusted friend of mine. We are not—”

The two men were arguing fiercely when another horn-call split the distance. Yitton turned, and his heart sank in his chest out of sheer incredulity.

“What? More reinforcements? Impossible.”

The [Knights] of Clairei Fields, House d’Artien, and House Byres fell back instantly when nearly four hundred more [Soldiers], all of them mounted, formed a battle line on the eastern flank. They were fully equipped, and unlike the Unseen Empire’s forces, their standards…Yitton’s jaw worked as they took up a flank position.

“Where did those [Soldiers] come from?”

No one expected the Unseen Empire to have that many troops, let alone ones who deployed in very good order. The answer presented itself almost as fast as the army appeared as a figure rode forwards. It was…

A [Brigadier] who led her troops forwards with a saber pointed. She had an amazing mustache; she aimed the sword at Grandmaster Noveghin, who stared as Brigadier Forount of Wales bellowed at him.

“In the name of Wales and the Unified Cities of the Hemlock Alliance—and His Majesty of Riverfarm—cease your advance at once! Or we will reluctantly be forced to give battle this day!”

Then Yitton Byres began to realize there would be no forcing Laken Godart by force of arms. And that was before the Goblins showed up.

 

——

 

By the time Laken Godart arrived, a small army of Goblins had taken position next to the Unseen Empire’s forces, and Brigadier Forount had put her people forwards, virtually encircling the now well-outnumbered Vampire Hunters. She was so surprising even the Goblins stared at her, and her mustache, vaguely recognizing her.

But from where?

Brigadier Forount. Namely, the same woman who had fought against the Eater Goats and Gargoyles attacking Orefell. She had led her troops north to reinforce Riverfarm against this act of aggression.

After all—the Unseen Empire was a proud new member of the Hemlock Alliance, the northernmost member that had offered quite hefty proceeds, including a lot of food, to the member cities as part of the signing agreement.

All thanks to Lady Rie. Now Riverfarm had an army, and the whooping Cheesemongers of Vaunt arriving proved that Laken had not only a number of cities on his side, but the backing of several noble houses, not just House Valerund.

When the Emperor of Riverfarm did appear, both forces had stood down and sent forth representatives to neutral ground. Lord Yitton Byres, Lord Malst, and Grandmaster Noveghin stood together with a small escort of their bodyguards facing General Wiskeria, Lord Gralton, Brigadier Forount, and Lord Pattin, who were shaking hands and introducing each other.

The huge [Dog Lord] paced back and forth; the [Witch] was uncannily poised, and Brigadier Forount kept smoothing her mustache. They put off the three representatives of the Vampire Hunters. Lord Pattin stuck out like a sore thumb, but he managed to raise his chin and glower across the divide with the rest of them.

We are the old houses of Izril. House Byres predates the Five Families—at least, their entrance onto Izril. We have the backing of many noble families who understand the threat and the righteousness of history on our side. Laken and I know each other.

Yitton reminded himself of the facts while he waited; he saw reinforcements to Riverfarm’s army milling about, and he had seen Laken’s figure as he rode up. A blue bird screeching amidst the bodies made Yitton sure the [Emperor] was coming. But how he arrived at the delegation…

When the [Emperor] began to make his way across the ground, it was not on foot. Yitton heard horns blaring and, for a panicked moment, thought a call to arms had begun.

But no—he heard shouting, and then the [Emperor] was riding towards him past a line of [Soldiers] raising their arms into the sky.

“The Unseen Emperor of Riverfarm, Protector of Durene’s cottage! His Majesty, Laken Godart—”

Someone was heralding Laken. Yitton’s mouth opened in dismay. This was not the informal meeting he’d hoped for. Instead, he saw Laken Godart riding towards him.

On a green Mossbear.

Bismarck. He passed the lines of [Soldiers] as the Vampire Hunters watched, incredulous, murmuring; Laken’s eyes were closed, and they surely knew the rumors.

A blind [Emperor]. But it was one thing to hear of one—another to see him riding the massive, snuffling bear. And then a second line of figures spread out, distinct from the [Soldiers].

“[Witches].”

A growl from Lord Malst. Two dozen women with pointed hats, each one different, spread out, and the [Emperor] rode past them. These women raised no weapons and did not bow, but as he passed, they touched their hats. Then, Laken dismounted, and the brilliant, blue bird screamed overhead, and his personal court of [Witches], men and women that Yitton vaguely recalled, Lady Rie, all swept forwards.

They seemed taller than normal. Prouder. Farmers like Mister Ram seemed to step with a [Butler]’s finesse, and the farming women like Miss Yesel had glowers to match those of the [Knights] behind Yitton.

To the Lord of House Byres, it was amusing and dismaying both. He knew Laken—but as the [Emperor] strode forwards, he heard a whisper.

“Dead gods. I thought I would never see the like of his ilk walk on Izril’s shores. You say this is a reasonable, humble man, Lord Yitton?”

Grandmaster Noveghin had removed his helmet for the meeting. When Yitton turned, the [Knight] had an unsettled expression on his face. Nervous, Yitton realized. And then he felt the butterflies in his stomach and looked again.

—Then he saw an [Emperor].

Laken Godart’s final walk to the assembled nobles was preceded by a scuttling pair of lanterns, their ‘eyes’ aglow with magic. A wicker scarecrow stumped into place, and a frozen, miniature Snow Golem rolled forwards and halted.

The mortals backed up a step, despite themselves, and the last of the [Emperor]’s escorts ran forwards in a mob. Of all his servants—perhaps the least intimidating and yet the most impactful were the Sariant Lambs.

The cute little creatures dashed forwards, all fluff and cuteness. But they lined up in amazing precision, and—Yitton’s jaw dropped—they fell to one knee. The [Emperor] walked past them, chuckling, his face merry and relaxed. As if all this fit him and were normal. But when his head rose and he seemed to ‘look’ at the three intruders onto his land, Yitton felt a weight in the air.

Laken’s face clouded over, and he leaned on his simple, white cane. His expression became one of displeasure, and Yitton Byres wished he could have locked eyes with the man. Searched or hinted for their bonds forged on their long ride north.

Instead—he just felt his heart rate spike. Thus came the Emperor of the Unseen Empire. He waited as his personal [Knight], Gamel, introduced him, and the three representatives of the Vampire Hunters were announced.

They were outnumbered in this diplomatic setting three-to-one, not even counting the Elementals or Sariant Lambs. This was not appropriate; this was a display of might.

And they were on the [Emperor]’s lands. When Laken did speak, any illusions of friendship left Yitton.

“I have entertained this meeting out of my past friendship for House Byres and Lord Yitton. I shall not speak of what has transpired. Offense has been given tenfold already. The intruders to my lands have been easily dealt with; this army I address now. My warning is simple. Cross the borders of the Unseen Empire as foe and die.”

His voice was flat and imperiously cold. Yitton almost gasped. This was no negotiation! Yet Grandmaster Noveghin just held his ground as Laken’s head swivelled towards him.

“Your quarry is gone, [Knights]. I shall not shelter Vampires nor allow their hunters on my lands. Your people attacked my subject, Witch Alevica. Rest assured, I will have that debt settled. You may, incidentally, ransom your [Knights] from me. But I am willing to let the matter go without more strife. Harm her or any of her people and I will hunt the Order of Clairei Fields across all of Izril. Be told: your actions today have made you potential enemies of the Unseen Empire.”

“Ransom?”

That came from one of the [Knights]; the Grandmaster of the Order of Clairei Fields had a resigned look on his face. Laken did not deign to turn his head, but he did clarify after a moment.

“For an extortionate price. They invaded my lands. Two are dead; I will return the remains to you.”

“Dead? For this insult—”

“They entered my lands and attacked my subjects. It should be war. It will be if you do not shut up, [Knight].”

The [Emperor]’s voice was cold. The [Knight] hesitated, and Laken Godart turned his head.

“Margravine Mavika. You have my authority to make war without surrender or mercy upon Knight B over there and slaughter them if they utter one more word. The Order of Clairei Fields I am undecided about at this time.”

“As you will it, Emperor Godart.”

The thin woman with her bird-like figure perched on a branch overhead the peace meeting, staring at the unlucky [Knight] who fell, wisely, silent. Laken Godart went on over Yitton’s attempts to interject.

“They destroyed several guardians of my land and thirty crows. I consider the deaths equal.”

“Thirty crows is n—”

Everyone fell silent as the Margravine made a croaking sound. Laken Godart turned smoothly, a smile on his lips as he addressed the [Lord] of House d’Artien.

“Thirty crows is not worth the life of two [Knights], I agree. Crows have honor, integrity, and charisma. The men and women who rode into my lands to kill a child have none. You will withdraw your forces—now.”

“You are harboring a Vampire in your midst! A foe of ages! You—”

The red-faced [Lord] of House d’Artien began to bellow at Laken—then saw a dozen bows rise. Yitton called out, aghast.

“Your Majesty! This is a meeting under the truce flag!”

The [Emperor] waved a hand over his eyes theatrically. His voice was crisp with a veneer of politeness, but he seemed to be giving off rage like heat lines. He raised one hand, and a grand cloak of expensive-looking cloth swept around him as Laken paused a second, as if listening to his inner thoughts. When he spoke, he shook his head ponderously.

“I can’t see it. Nor do I trust the honor of the Knights of the Clairei Fields after they attacked a City Runner and a child. I say again: the Vampire is gone. I will neither harbor nor attack their kind. This entire affair does not have any honor in it to me.”

The [Emperor] sounded bitter as he sat there, surrounded by his vassals. [Witches]! And—one of the [Knights] spat at another figure in the [Emperor]’s escort.

“You harbor Goblins! This Empire truly is contaminated!”

Weapons rose, and warriors had to be shouted down again. The Goblin in question, who had mail armor and a surcoat decorated with pears, just grinned as he fingered an axe.

Laken Godart’s voice was frosty.

“That is my vassal, and the next person to insult me or my people will be hexed until their genitals rot off. Margravine, see it done.”

The [Witch] nodded, and Laken turned.

“This is my Goblin Lord—”

Every heart skipped a beat in terror, and Laken chuckled darkly.

“Excuse me. My Goblin, who is a [Lord] by right of his barony. Baron Raidpear.”

“Hi.”

The Goblin seemed quite pleased by all the reactions. Lord Yitton was aghast, but as he finally found his tongue, he tried to appeal to reason.

“Your Majesty, in light of our friendship, will you not reconsider? I confess, I had hoped to speak with you more privately. Believe me, Vampires are a scourge upon Izril. Strife within the north can only end badly. I will own the clashes between the Clairei Fields and Unseen Empire were ill-done. On all sides. This one event can be overlooked—”

Laken cut him off, voice filled with puzzlement and disappointment.

“Yitton. We rode together. Ate together. You were there when I decided to try and save Goblins. Now you’re prepared to murder Vampires by the village? I offer you the chance to reconsider.”

He stood up, turning his head as if trying to read Yitton’s face, but his eyes were closed. Yitton replied stiffly. He had not wanted to do this, but if he had to—

“You have slain two members of the Order of Clairei Fields, Your Majesty. The worth of such brave warriors aside, two [Knights] of indisputable valor and honor lie dead. Your [Witch] was not harmed; the fault must lie with the Unseen Empire. I point this out as a representative of the gentility of the north.”

He expected a furious response, or an imperial one. However, once more, Laken half-tilted his head. As if…listening?

This time, Yitton noticed the faint gesture. And he swore he heard something like mewling, but it was just one of the Sariant Lambs uttering nonsense sounds. He put it from his mind. They were very well behaved; Wiskeria was holding one next to the [Emperor].

The [Emperor]’s lips quirked sardonically. Then he spoke with dismaying accuracy.

“You wish to speak of custom and tradition, Lord Yitton? Very well. I have already refuted the honor of their actions, which knightly orders are founded upon. Grandmaster Noveghin was wise enough not to argue his Order’s integrity before me or I would have called for a deliberation upon that subject.”

A faint grunt from Noveghin. Yitton blinked in dismay; that had been a trap. Laken went on, voice smooth.

“To your second claim, I refute that as well. The Order of Clairei Fields is sworn by their charter to ‘protect and defend the passageways of Izril, from each Crossroad to every City of the North.’ Their mandate never extended to hunting; each noble that ratified their order explicitly maintained the sanctity of their lands in the matters of justice and defense. The Order of the Clairei Fields had no right to stop a City Runner about her business, nor to attack any of my people. I am likewise dismayed to find House Byres and House d’Artien backing such aggression with the barest veneer of cause.”

“Barest veneer? Vampires are a threat across Izril. Your Majesty!”

Lord Malst barked, unable to hold his tongue. He remembered Laken’s title belatedly and would have gone on, but Laken’s head swung towards the younger man, and a weight pressed Malst’s jaw closed.

“Thusly, House d’Artien is allowed to send its Vampire Hunters into each noble holding as they please? I think not. You have trespassed in over forty nobles’ lands already and slain their subjects. Your strident claims of the ‘Vampire Threat’ are only backed up by charred corpses and ash. You conveniently ignore the private complaints launched by said noble families. That will not work with me. Cross into Riverfarm under any claim without my express authorization and your Vampire Hunters will not come back, Lord Malst. If you would like, I will list each noble family you have offended in alphabetical order. It might be illuminating to Lord Byres.”

Yitton froze. He had known some nobles had raised objections about the Vampire Hunters, but forty holdings? How did Laken know that? Malst seemed just as stunned. He paled; Yitton saw him press his lips together, and Noveghin’s head swung sideways.

The [Emperor] knew too much. And however he had the information—spies, his [Witches]—no one had a cogent argument to muster. Indeed, Yitton swore the Sariant Lambs were sniggering at him.

The [Emperor] whirled his cloak behind him, clearly tiring of the debate. His voice was frosty.

“Leave, and do not come back. You have been warned. The next time, I will not be half as merciful.”

The three men looked at each other. The arrogance of that man! Yet…what were they to do? Force the issue? Argue on principles already refuted?

They did not have to confer long.

The Order of Clairei Fields fell back, some with oaths of retribution on their lips. Others, like the Grandmaster, rode silently, deepening the rift between the [Knights].

House Byres departed with House d’Artien, locked in furious discussions, and the Vampire Hunters milled about—but the cost of one Vampire was judged far, far too high compared to the task at hand.

Riverfarm’s army was not tested that day. Nor did any observers forget the [Emperor]’s show of strength. They read a lot into it.

The forces at Laken Godart’s disposal.

The negotiating power of Lady Rie. The relative cost and wealth of the Unseen Empire to field that many [Soldiers]. The political implications for the region. The decision the Unseen Empire had taken, even if it was not fully on the Vampires’ side.

—And as always. They forgot the child.

 

——

 

Witch Alevica was tired. Healing did that to you, and she’d needed a lot of healing. But she got up, started her day by making sure breakfast was edible for everyone and not because she wanted the first bite from the [Chef]’s meal—

Then she washed Arcanis’ face as he sat between Malluni and Cirsa. The two [Witches] kept poking him as they ate until Alevica slapped their hands.

“Stop that. He’s staying with us. Until his family turns up.”

They might turn up. The Order of Clairei Fields had gone tearing after Alevica and Arcanis; the Vampires might have hidden in the swamp and then gotten away.

Or they might not have. Alevica had told Arcanis this. Not unkindly, but as a [Witch] did with painful honesty.

He sat there, glancing at the door as it opened, but it was just Laken. The boy stared at the blind man, but Laken just sat down with a groan.

“Everything hurts, Alevica.”

“Oh, really? Riding back from the border must be terribly painful, Your Majesty. Being shot with arrows and run over isn’t nearly as bad.”

“…Okay, I’m better. Good morning, Cirsa, Malluni, Arcanis. There’s still no sign of the [Griffin Rider] that attacked you, Alevica. Wiskeria says it’s ‘her business’, but I will keep my eye on the matter. As for Arcanis’ family—”

The boy looked up, but Laken just smiled sadly at him. He patted the head of his newest member of court; a Sariant Lamb of all things. The little bugger was still untrustworthy, but they’d provided him with the intelligence about House d’Artien. If a Vampire deserved a chance…well, so did a Sariant Lamb. Laken turned to the nervous Arcanis.

“If I notice anyone crossing the border, I will let you know. I rather suspect that’s what they’ll try. You are welcome to stay here as long as you wish, Arcanis. But remember. You do not exist. And if your family should come…”

They will have to leave. Alevica nodded. Laken had said he couldn’t risk a war, and he meant it. Besides…he’d already thrown out nearly sixteen ‘travellers’ who he had said were spies.

More trouble for Riverfarm. Laken certainly seemed tired. And for all Alevica ragged on him, she sensed a true despondency coming off him. He sat there heavily.

“Yitton and I are quits. He’s made his choice, and I’ve made mine. There was never any real chance of anything else happening. But again—”

Another friend lost as the Unseen Empire did what Laken thought was best. The [Emperor] might not have known Yitton as well as some, but it seemed like an open wound. Silently, the [Witch] debated on patting Laken on the shoulder, but she decided that was stupid. Instead, Alevica turned to Arcanis, directing Laken’s attention back to the boy.

“If you want to stay, you’ll stay with me. Cirsa and Malluni are almost as bad as [Knights], though.”

The two apprentices glared indignantly at Alevica, but the Vampire boy just poked at a bloody steak.

“What can I do?”

Laken opened his mouth, but Alevica kicked him until he shut up.

“Rest. Learn. I have two little brats to look after. A third won’t hurt.”

Pale-red eyes stared at Alevica, then darted away. She hadn’t asked him how he felt; she didn’t need to. Alevica pretended all was well, at least, right now. So Arcanis said…

“I can’t level up.”

“Well, a Witch is a Witch regardless of whether she has a class.”

Alevica recited her old mentor’s words with a twist on them. She thought of the new spell she’d learned. Then smiled at the boy.

“Besides. I know a bit of magic that requires no classes. If you want to, I’ll teach you. Though you’d technically be a [Warlock].”

He blinked at her, and Malluni’s and Cirsa’s mouths fell open. Even Laken sat up, and Arcanis’ head rose. He began asking questions, forgetting a moment that he was bleeding and wounded. He’d cry when he had to. Rage and ask questions, and if they were lucky—his family would show up. But if not…he’d be one of Oliyaya’s apprentices. No…wait.

One of Alevica’s apprentices?

The [Witch] adjusted her mended hat, bemused at the thought. What was she, the Witch of Salvation now? The Witch of Good Deeds? The Witch of Hugs and Kisses?

—No. But she was the Witch Runner. Busy, annoyed by the well-meaning [Emperor], worried about the future. Alevica sighed. But at least her hat was full.

 

——

 

The end. For Riverfarm, at least. Some of the news of the showdown on the border had that weight of history to it. When Durene got the [Message] from Lady Rie, it had an edited feel that said she’d missed a lot of confusion and swearing.

She had no doubt the end results were mostly the same, but the upshot was that Laken had done A Good Thing. As he always did. But he couldn’t solve Izril’s woes. She couldn’t. The Order of Solstice couldn’t.

Two hundred [Knights] of Clairei Fields. Durene bet that the Order of Solstice could take on two [Knights] apiece in a scrap. So…twelve. They were not ready for the magnitude of the task.

Yet they were called. So she closed the scroll as they broke camp in the morning and had her own sense of déjà vu.

“Hey, guys? How much sex is normal per day? Per week?”

Vess stopped chewing his breakfast and looked up at Durene. Normen paused as he exited his tent. He eyed Durene. Slowly, the [Grandmaster] stepped back into the tent and closed the flap.

After a second, Durene heard him laughing. The entire Order of the Solstice started chuckling, and it was joined by a booming laugh from Chaoisa. Then a strange, fluttering sound, as if a hundred butterflies had been given voices.

That made the Order of Solstice and Chaoisa stop laughing for a moment and look over in astonishment. The hundred Antinium in armor sat up in their bedrolls, staring at the [Knights].

The [Gloryseeking Squires], [Antinium-at-Arms], [Pages of Glory’s Flame]—the aspiring heirs to Embraim—did not know why they laughed, clearly. But they copied the Order of Solstice, like giant insectoid puppies. Afraid. Uncertain.

Not quite Individual. Not even Autonomous; most are liars. That was Antherr’s frank appraisal of them, which had worried Durene quite a lot when he’d reported to Normen with everyone else present.

Did that mean they were untrustworthy? No…not to Antinium. What Antherr meant was that none of them had Embraim’s lantern. They had lied they had it and been granted armor and freedom from their roles as Workers and Soldiers. Instead of living and dying for the Hives, they had been sent to Liscor where they could be…free. They had followed the flame of glory here out of sheer desperation.

Durene got that. So, when the Order of Solstice had voted on whether to let the Antinium stay or turn them away, for fear of taking in too many Antinium or being unprepared for them—it had been a unanimous vote. 6-0 in favor of accepting them as the first full trainees of the Order of Solstice.

They were not the only ones. The rocky campground was not comfortable, but Drakes, Humans, and Gnolls had all pitched camp with their own sleeping bags and gear.

Lots of it was personal or donated by their own friends or family, and Durene had gone into Liscor and bought food and whatever else was needed. She was worried about finances, but they had a donor with literally unlimited purse strings, so this part of the Order of Solstice’s campaign had gone well.

—Which was mostly just riding for the last four days. However, given their destination, intent, and company, surviving the trip without conflict or strife was impressive.

“I don’t know much about love, Durene. I don’t know enough about fighting or strategy in warfare. I’ll study the latter.”

Normen replied as he exited his tent, already wearing his armor. Ama shook her head as she spooned baked beans onto some fresh bread.

“Poor Jewel.”

The [Swashbuckler] threw a heel of toast at the [Necromancer]. Normen raised a hand before the watching Antinium started a food fight with their rations. Then again, based on how they savored every bite, Durene doubted they’d waste a crumb.

“We should be setting a good example for the [Squires] and [Knight]-candidates.”

“Why? We’re not that cool. They’d better find out now.”

Ama shot back, and Normen hesitated as Antherr, Vess, and Durene nodded sagely. When the [Grandmaster] turned his head, he seemed bemused and surprised that so many people wanted to be Knights of Solstice.

As he sat there, smiling awkwardly, eating beans on toast, Normen Callsten might not have looked like much. But so what? Everyone had seen him burning with honor’s fire. They had witnessed Embraim and the Order of Solstice at their finest.

If you caught one of them picking their nose or tripping on a rock and thought that took away from who they were, well, you just had a bad memory. Durene chewed on a potato she had tossed on the fire for breakfast. Vess passed her some salt. She passed it right back.

“Aw, c’mon, Durene. You don’t even want salt?”

“It’s probably a Troll thing, Vess. Plain potato tastes really good.”

Vess shook his head as he salted his beans and muttered under his breath.

“I bet it’s not a Troll thing. I bet it’s a Durene thing, and you just don’t want to admit you’re weird.”

She shoved him, and he tried to shove her back, but given the disparity between their weights, Vess just shoved himself again. Their bickering made Chaoisa smile, though she appeared half-dead. She’d been sleeping in her wagon, and was unhappy to be alive in general at this moment.

Chaoisa, Antinium, prospective [Knights], and the Order of the Solstice. As armies went, it was pitiful. As groups to feed and organize? They would have overloaded The Wandering Inn in a week’s time. Which was why they were not at The Wandering Inn.

“It’s good that we agreed with your plan, Durene. The Armored Antinium recruits forced our hand, as it were. Do you think we’ll be able to set up a base here?”

Durene frowned worriedly as Normen stood, walking around the camp. She got up with him, smiling and waving at nervous Antinium, who leapt to their feet then sat down awkwardly as they passed.

“I think so, Normen. Antinium are fantastic builders, right? And there’s some trees…we’ll have to drag them over here, but I bought a lot of that quick concrete mix that Octavia had. Water, rocks, a lot of pounding and mixing, and we can build almost anything out of stone.”

There were a lot of stones about; Durene imagined they’d be able to make cobblestone walls. If they wanted to get fancy, they could cut stone…but she’d take any kind of wall.

“The second question is: where?”

“Somewhere decently high up? Not too high…see those cliffs up there?”

Normen frowned as Durene pointed up the steep walls of a natural ravine they were staring at. There were lots of ledges that Durene imagined they could excavate. Either that or she pointed over her shoulder.

“Otherwise, we move the keep back a bit. Put it on the ground at the mouth of the pass. Closer to the river?”

“Water matters. And we’ll probably live longer if we give the local wildlife some room. For now, we have to establish whether we’ll even survive long enough to do what we need to.”

Both Normen and Durene glanced sideways as he said that at the last members of the expedition.

Lapsey sat under a raised tarp, avoiding the sunlight like, well, a Vampire avoiding sunlight. She poked enthusiastically at some beans on toast that Ama offered her. When one of her comrades sitting in the shade offered her something similar, she brightened up and awkwardly took the ‘beans’ and spread it over the bread.

Durene’s eager chewing on her potato slowed. Even Normen blanched. Durene swallowed hard as a pale-skinned man checked the pot.

“Are those beans in…blood?”

“So it seems.”

A group of about thirteen Vampires were making their own breakfast, but Durene had no desire to share the pot.

Yes, Vampires. They didn’t look quite as hostile as when they’d tried to hold Durene and Normen hostage and rescue Lapsey. To be fair—they hadn’t seemed quite dangerous at the time either.

Normen had seen them coming, and while they’d held Durene up with a blade at her throat, it had lasted about as long as it took them to try and sneak into The Wandering Inn. They’d run into Ishkr with a jar of garlic and Vaulont. However, their rescue attempt for Lapsey had been the catalyst for the Order of Solstice departing Liscor for their current destination along with the entire Order of Solstice.

Right now, the Vampires were having their odd breakfast; they all wore dark clothing and hats and had a certain umbral style to them, but they seemed more like weary travellers than anything sinister. True, they had fanged teeth; yes, they were fast and strong and had red eyes.

But Durene didn’t really see a dangerous monster in the working scribe surreptitiously tossing salt in the pot and getting his hand smacked by the old grandmother who was arguing sugar was better for…blood beans. Lapsey was peering in the pot with a disconsolate look, eyeing the Order of Solstice’s armor with far more interest. She was still badgering Durene to be accepted as a Knight of Solstice.

At any rate, the thirteen Vampires were the reason the Order of Solstice had come all this way.

No one said the V-word out loud, but surely some of the prospective recruits had worked out the group being escorted by the Order of Solstice had a few quirks. Such as staying out of the sunlight, eating bloody meals, and a few had thrown up when crossing a bridge over running water.

Durene was just grateful the Vampires trusted them enough to come here. After their abduction attempt had failed and they’d been de-garliced and de-headlocked, Colfa and Vaulont had introduced them and clarified the situation.

The Vampires had sought passage to Pallass, not having heard about Lapsey’s situation. When they learned, they’d been prepared to turn around and find another way south, but they’d tried to ‘save’ Lapsey first, having made the fair assumption that the Order of Solstice was hostile to Vampires.

Regardless, as Durene had noted, that left them with scant options. Either they scaled the mountains around Liscor or ran down the Bloodfields or booked passage on a ship. All of those methods were easy to track; doubtless, many Vampires were trying those routes and perishing. Durene hoped more were sensible and keeping their heads down, but the hunting was flushing them out…

No good solutions.

Now think what the Order of Solstice would do in a situation like this. They had a group they wanted to help. They very clearly had a cause, but they lacked the strength to contest the Order of Clairei Fields, let alone Pallass.

They wanted to help. They had to. Durene had said it to the others, and she hadn’t gotten a voice of disagreement. Just a question: how?

In a situation like this, someone like Laken would use the power of his class and his intellect to devise some crazy idea, like…walking Vampires under Pallass’ nose or launching them from a trebuchet to safety. Durene didn’t know. If it was Erin, she might have arranged for Vampires to use her door and get past Pallass, and hang the consequences.

Durene wasn’t that smart. Or maybe she was smart enough and she didn’t have much confidence in herself. She was working on it. Perhaps she was smart…at least if you compared her to her Order. Because her idea was the only one anyone had had—well, Antherr had suggested using the route to the Hivelands to take the Vampires, but that was bad in and of itself.

Durene’s idea was arguably even more dangerous. She folded her arms, and her heartbeat picked up as she stared at the high cliffs of stone. They led up to an even higher ridgeline and, above that, sheer rock. Reddish at the base; as the mountains rose, the stone turned blacker, weathering, and then white with snow that never melted.

Even when Durene craned her head all the way back, the High Passes kept going. The greatest mountain range in the world…impassable, forming a dividing line across Izril except in two places.

The first at Liscor, where the mountains allowed that basin to exist. The second…slightly north and west. Past Orefell, leading through a canyon where only fools and adventurers went.

The High Passes.

“So. Is anyone else terrified? I feel like the Order of Clairei Fields isn’t that tough. Come on. What’s a few thousand [Knights]? Remember how many Eater Goats and Gargoyles came out of here?”

Ama was petting Sillias, staring at the foreboding entrance to the High Passes. She’d been the loudest voice of dissent at Durene’s plan, but it had still passed 4-2.

Ama and Antherr had been dissenting votes, going for his plan to use the Hivelands as a better route. But given how he said he was ‘uncertain if the Queens would allow anyone to leave alive’, the Order of Solstice had taken the best option.

“We are not aiming to rouse the entire mountain range, Ama. Speed is key. We move in a small band; the recruits will secure a base. The six of us and Chaoisa will escort the Vampires through the pass. It has been done before.”

“Should we not scout ahead and let the wagon follow after we deem the route safe?”

Antherr wanted to know, but Durene shook her head.

“The route isn’t going to be safe, Antherr. Even if we fight our way through the pass, a second trip will carry the exact same risks. Arguably more if we attract scavengers to the corpses we leave behind. One trip. I know it’s risky.”

“Suicidal.”

“Shush, Ama. It’s risky, but if our wards had a better idea, I think they’d take it. Lapsey, any objections?”

The Vampire looked up; she’d been staring at the High Passes with as much nerves as the others.

“Sevil was a good man!”

“Besides that.”

The Vampire gave Durene a slight shake of the head. She didn’t look entirely convinced, but one of the other Vampires poked his head out of the wagon and drawled.

“If you’re willing to give it a shot, we are. We thought about trying the pass, but we thought it was a death wish. You’re the [Knights]; just don’t be upset if we run screaming at the first sight of a bad monster.”

“That’s exactly what we want you to do.”

Durene gave him a thumbs up, and the Vampires looked at each other, less-than-happy about the fact that their cowardly flight might be needed. However, Normen just nodded.

“This is a crazy, dangerous plan.”

“Sorry, Normen.”

He smiled at Durene.

“It’s fitting for us. Alright, there’s no time to waste. You can be through the High Passes in a day if you move fast, according to Chaoisa’s records.”

“That record’s centuries old. No [Driver]’s done this route in living memory; I don’t even think [Smugglers] use it anymore. We’re all going to die.”

Chaoisa spat as she took some chewing tobacco out. But she winked at Durene as the [Paladin] glanced at her anxiously.

“Don’t worry, Durene. Us big girls have to stick together. ‘Sides, I’ve always wanted to roll the High Passes. I hear pissants brag about rolling by the Bloodfields in the winter. This is a route to show every [Driver] north and south who the real rollers are.”

The Order of Solstice nodded at each other. Ama sat on her giant bone cat’s back as Durene mounted a nervous mare and Normen mounted a war stallion.

They’d be riding fast; if it came to fighting, Durene would hop off her horse’s back. Only Normen had any training with fighting on horseback. Chaoisa woke up her bulls, and Normen called out.

“Embershard, Dekava Silverfang. To me, please. We are about to try the High Passes.”

Two people came forwards; one of the Antinium with the highest level—he was a Level 7 [Gloryseeker Squire]—and a Gnoll with silver markings and stripes on her fur. She carried a bow and axe, and she was one of the most competent outdoor survivalists.

“Do you want us to secure the pass, Grandmaster?”

Dekava licked her lips nervously. She had a set of chainmail over some hide armor, and she was a [Hunter-Warrior], but she eyed the opening to the High Passes nervously. Normen shook his head.

“I want you two to begin setting up a keep near the river we passed. Find a defensible spot and set up a camp; put up walls as soon as you can.”

“Yes, Grandmaster. I have left my Hive to seek glory and death. Now, I am back to building. It is very reassuring.”

Embershard clasped a fist to his armor. Dekava protested.

“Me? But I’m not a [Knight] of the Order of Solstice! I want to be, but—I have no training! Are all the [Knights] going with you, Grandmaster?”

She swung her gaze to the other potential [Knights]. Normen nodded. He put on his helmet.

“You’re a Plains Gnoll from the Silverfang Tribe, aren’t you? You’d know the best spot to camp.”

“For Gnolls, but I’m no [Chieftain] or [Shaman]. I—w-what happens if you don’t come back?”

The question made the other prospective squires stir uneasily. Dekava licked her lips again, but Normen just gave her a big smile.

“Why did you ask to join our Order, Dekava?”

She hesitated, then scratched behind one ear, flushing under her fur, or at least, Durene assumed.

“I…I heard about Brunkr, yes? He was always weird. I laughed at him, but then I heard he passed away in Liscor. But he did it. I thought someone in the Silverfang tribe should continue his legacy. But I’m not…”

She stared at Normen, and the [Knight of Honor’s Flame] was burning faintly. Green flames; he seemed to forget that’s why people remembered him. Normen’s armor was engulfed by flames, but the Vampires were, for once, not in fear of the fire. The Antinium were lifting their empty lanterns at Jewel as she lit her rapier with pink flames, as if begging for a single spark. Normen smiled, then put his helmet on.

“Not worthy? Not ready? I was not. I still am unprepared. You are never ready to take your hat off and fight. If we do not come back, take over the Order of Solstice. Go to The Wandering Inn; a little Gnoll will give you an ember. The flames will find you. Until then, set up the base as best you can. That is what we do.”

Dekava’s mouth opened. She looked from Normen to Durene, as if expecting the [Paladin] to say anything else. But Durene just hefted her shield and smiled at the Gnoll.

“We’re that kind of Knight Order. If we survive, we’re doing things right. If not…don’t do what we did. Everyone ready?”

“Ready to die!”

Ama shouted. Antherr drew his greatsword, and the flame of determination burned across it, hazel. Vess held up the grey lantern as he looked at the Vampires.

“We really need a catchphrase.”

“Death before dishonor? That is a very good one.”

Antherr suggested, and Vess shook his head.

“That’s the Horns of Hammerad.”

“No, it is the Beriad’s.”

“Well, we can’t have three groups all saying it, Antherr.”

“Why not? It is a very good slogan.”

The two argued as they rode. Normen turned; Jewel was riding next to him, Antherr and Vess were mounted, and the rest of the aspiring [Knights] looked at them. Everyone fell silent, waiting for Normen to say or do something.

The [Grandmaster] closed his eye, and he might not have had the right words or known what to say—but he did his best. He opened his good eye and drew his mace.

“Knights of Solstice. Light the way through the High Passes.”

He turned, and Durene’s heart rose in her chest as he lifted a lantern high. Green fire roared upwards, and Normen’s horse turned its head. It realized it had a bonfire on its back and began galloping forwards in alarm.

“Wait! Normen!”

Jewel followed after him, laughing, pink flames on her sword. Ama followed, dour and grim. But she had her own blue flames, like teardrops of sadness; they blazed in Sillias’ eye sockets.

Antherr and Vess rode after her, twin fires of determination and mercy burning in the lanterns at their sides. Hazel and grey.

As for Durene? Every eye turned to her, and the [Paladin] flexed one hand. She frowned at the empty lantern at her side, but she didn’t feel left out of the group.

I feel like I’m burning too. But with what? 

The [Paladin] rode forwards, staring at her friends. At the Vampires. What defined Durene Faerise? What quality did she long for or embody? Why had she even had the will to become a [Paladin]?

Because an [Emperor] had told her to? Perhaps. But she hadn’t levelled or stayed with the class just for that. She had not fought undead in the dead of winter or carried supplies to villages just because people expected it of her. Nor had she left the Unseen Empire and Laken for no reason.

“Durene?”

Jewel glanced backwards at the [Paladin] as Chaoisa’s wagon rolled into the center of the formation of [Knights]. Chaoisa was hunched over, grim, but she was one of them too, Durene realized. Just like Zanze.

Chaoisa, the Contempt of Man, met Durene’s eyes, and it felt like both women were coated in oil. Doused in fuel, waiting to ignite. And for Durene…she looked at her arms, then at Lapsey.

The Vampire stared at Durene as the half-Troll girl clenched a hand. Then flames coated Durene’s armor. They burst to life as she thought of Laken.

“Huh?”

Fire raced up Durene’s arm, and the watching [Squires], the [Knights] of Solstice, the Vampires, and the hidden Trolls all recoiled. Red fire raced up Durene’s arm, and she flailed one hand before she realized it didn’t hurt. It was…it felt familiar. It was warm, then hot. Like a fire you could hold in your hands when you were cold, then an inferno that could keep away any chill.

It felt strong. Lapsey recoiled away from the most traditional-looking flame.

“It’s…wait. It feels…”

The flames had no orange or yellow component to them; they were rose-red, and Durene saw the other [Knights] turning.

“Durene! You did it! What flame is that?”

Vess shouted in delight, and Normen grinned. He didn’t even have to ask; nor did anyone else, in truth. They saw it.

The flame of kindness was red and bright. Antherr tilted his head as Durene drew her greatsword.

“Strange. I thought she was aflame these last few days, but I only see it now.”

Jewel scratched at her chin, smiling.

“Sometimes, it’s invisible. Or small. That’s my guess, Antherr.”

The flames were growing taller, almost matching Normen’s flames. Durene rode, her horse snorting excitedly, happy with being afire. The Antinium [Knight] shook his head slowly.

“Kindness to me has always seemed like a great thing, for I had so little of it.”

Normen cantered past them, nodding at Durene as she took her position at the front.

“It can be small. Or made of great deeds. It is not an easy flame. Now, set the High Passes aflame, Durene!”

 

——

 

Durene glowed with a red flame as she rode past the wagon and took her position with her comrades. Each one afire rode forwards, like something out of a story book. The prospective [Knights] were not the only ones who watched the procession of the Order of Solstice with awe.

Thirteen Vampires, sitting in the back of the wagon, felt the vehicle moving as their fearsome [Driver] got them rolling. Even her scowl was ameliorated by the moment, though Chaoisa was doing her best to act impassive.

As the small group began to enter the High Passes, someone spoke in a low voice.

“Surreal. Never in my life did I think I’d have an escort of [Knights].”

One of the passengers was a man with ink-stained fingers. Atrenve, at least, that was the name he’d given. One of thirteen fleeing people; the one who’d put a knife to Durene’s back, actually.

He was clean-shaven and wore a working suit with two shoulder suspenders—covered by a grey travelling cloak. His white shirt was stained and unwashed from days of travel. Apparently, he’d been in his office, working, when he’d heard Vampire Hunters were in his town. He’d gone running without grabbing more than his bag of gold.

He was one of the thirteen minus Lapsey. The others nodded somberly, and Lapsey, vibrating with longing, excitement, and still—pain from Sevil’s death and hope for the future—nodded.

“I know. I thought, once I took the blood, that the only time I’d be around so many [Knights] would be if my end had come. Yet here we are, brothers and sisters. The mortal folk have good sorts among them.”

She tried to keep her voice elevated and speak like Sevil and his family had taught her during her admittedly brief sojourn as one of them. She must have done something wrong, because every one of the other Vampires turned and stared at Lapsey for a while. Atrenve coughed into a fist after a moment.

“Erm. What I meant was that I never thought I’d need an escort of [Knights]. Let alone famous ones such as these. I did have a [Knight] ride me to First Landing, once, to take some documents to House Terland. A member of the Order of the Clairei Fields no less. Now they’re all hunting…us. I keep thinking I’ll wake up in my bed and this will all have been a bad dream.”

“From your wishes to a Djinni’s ears.”

A murmur from a man in worn farmer’s clothes. Lapsey stared, her mouth slightly open as he hugged a woman clinging to him; they were a pair. Husband, wife, farmers both—and their eldest daughter was fiddling with a knife she had. Not expertly, but nervously sheathing and unsheathing it.

These…weren’t the Vampires that Lapsey had known. The val Vonderacks had been grand, wearing old clothing patched in places, yes, but ancient silks and satins, who spoke with great, portentous words that made Lapsey feel both small and honored to be part of them. Sevil had always been reminding Lapsey to act like what she was: a predator of the night, a noble of blood.

The farmers had rough accents, and their clothing was humble. Lapsey had thought it was a disguise until they’d said these were their working clothes.

“Don’t think of what was, you lot. Focus on getting out of here. The High Passes’re as bad as a Walled City. If it comes to it, hop out of the wagon and run like you’ve got silver up your ass. If you can mistwalk or transform, hide. These [Knights]’ll do the best they can, but there’s things here that could eat the lot of us. It says how desperate we are that we’re even attempting this crossing. Let alone afterwards.”

That comment came from an old woman, Xeni, a grandmother with two peg-legs instead of feet. She had some kind of disease from the Curse; she was nimble for all her missing feet, and she’d been the one who had jumped through Lapsey’s window to ‘rescue’ her.

Of course, Vaulont had stopped them—but she’d tossed Vess a good thirty feet out the window before Colfa caught him.

Xeni was properly powerful, then, but she had a no-nonsense tone to her voice for all she spoke of their powers. Not the grandeur…Lapsey shifted as the other Vampires nodded.

“Monsters. Is this safe? What if we hid—”

The farmer’s wife, Pedne, buried her head in her hands, but another Vampire shook his head.

“Not with the Hunters. They’re hunting us across the continent. We have to go. Then we hope someone finds us. I think we’re rallying near the New Lands.”

“That is quite a lot of space for that kind of vagary. But then…all the old hideouts are suspect. The entire north is poisoned—what if we made for Emergency Point Sanctis?”

Atrenve was displeased by the inaccuracies. He unfolded a cheap map he had, and the others crowded around as Lapsey’s ears perked up. Atrenve stabbed a finger at a spot in the foothills, away from any Drake cities in the southern part of Izril. The Vampires conferred, but it was clear they were all from different places; six different groups, not counting Lapsey, each one with their own sources of information.

“Emergency Point Sanctis? We have one of those?”

“From records. You don’t know about it? It should be a keep…”

“Pretentious name. I—we—never had any fallback points. People, yes. But when the Lischelle-Drakles pulled out…”

“Shush. No names.”

“She vouched for them, surely—”

“This keep wasn’t maintained, right? I’d rather meet up with someone along the New Lands. I did hear that as the idea. Dead gods, if only we’d coordinated.”

“Too late. Not everyone’s even willing to leave. We left near forty folk behind in our village. I hope they’re at least packed and ready to go. The Hunters are everywhere…”

They were frightened, unclear on what to do…and wary of each other. Lapsey cleared her throat and raised her voice. They had to know what was important.

“Excuse me. I don’t know if you could tell, but I’m…new to the blood. I was turned by the val Vonderacks. I am the last; the others were slain by the hateful mortals. I’m…I’m also pure of blood. Untainted.”

A true Vampire, not poisoned by the silver in the wells. Lapsey looked around expectantly, and a few Vampires blinked at her, then frowned. It was old Xeni who bared her teeth in a grimace.

“Poor girl. You choose a poor time to…inducted into the blood, you say? val Vonderack…I think I recall them. What were those idiots thinking giving you Vampirism? Ach, I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead. You stick with us, Lapsey. But tone down the talk, would you? All this ‘new to the blood’ and ‘mortals’ will get us caught right off, even by Drakes.”

Lapsey hesitated as the others gave her sympathetic nods.

“I…yes. But we’re private enough here. And I’m pureblooded. I have powers. Shapeshifting. I don’t have sickness. I can rebuild our people.”

Some of the Vampires did catch on to this, and Atrenve sat up.

“No illness? No coughing? Can you drain…”

They all cast a glance at Chaoisa, who wasn’t turning to look at them, but their voices lowered. Lapsey nodded hurriedly.

“I didn’t test it—we had to move the moment I was turned, you know. But Sevil, my husband, thought so. And I have fully-fledged powers from the moment I was sired.”

“Dead gods. How did you escape the Curse—I mean, the damn silver?”

“My village was on the coast. So far away that House Byres never visited it.”

Pedne and her husband clasped Lapsey’s hand. The female Vampire had a less-visible illness than the others, but she sometimes sounded short of breath.

“That’s wonderful, dear. It gives me hope that maybe we’ll recover. Or at least the younger ones will…”

She glanced at her daughter, who stared at Lapsey, and the Vampiress nodded with all the dignity she could muster.

“I’ll do my part rebuilding our generations.”

Pedne’s husband, Tulec, frowned at her.

“…How?”

Lapsey’s face turned red, and the copper coin dropped after a second. Half the Vampires raised their brows. One of them laughed incredulously, and Lapsey flushed more. But Xeni just frowned.

“Is that what the val Vonderacks had planned? They grabbed a girl like you and…now I remember. They’re the sort who kept to the old ways. Like a bad val Drakle. All vees and zehs and notions about their station. Put ‘rebuilding the old blood’ out of your mind, girl. That’s not who we are. And even if you were an old Noble of the Blood—this is the High Passes. Beasts from here used to eat us even when we were ruling Izril.”

She slapped one leg briskly, and Lapsey stared, open-mouthed, at Xeni. Offended on behalf of Sevil, but—she couldn’t rage at the woman because she was a fellow Vampire, and an old one.

Lapsey was so dumbfounded as the other Vampires murmured that she didn’t know what to say. A few of them eyed her sympathetically, or even with pained amusement, muttering to themselves.

“Vonderacks? An entire clan? We never had any bloodlines that old—”

“Giving Vampirism to a girl just for…do you think anyone else has a harebrained idea like that?”

“If she can drink levels like the old days, that’s as bad as good. The last thing we need is to give the Hunters something to be afraid of.”

“I’d rather give them some fear. Not that I’m mad enough to fight. If we get out of the High Passes, we should form some kind of militia. Buy armor…but the cost!”

Atrenve was the only one who spoke to Lapsey as she sat there, feeling—wronged by the lack of the society, the culture she had been led to expect. Durene’s comment about Sevil made her flush darken, and uncertainty squirmed through her stomach. He hadn’t been—he’d loved her!

It was the scribe who leaned over as they rumbled into the High Passes and the Order of Solstice began to warn the Vampires to keep their voices down. He smiled at Lapsey and whispered.

“We don’t mean to be harsh, Miss Lapsey. For what it’s worth, I’m glad someone’s spared the sickness and has hope for the future. But I was born and raised as…an ordinary sort of man. I wished I had levels, but being a Vampire certainly helped against the odd mugger. I suppose we all have to shed our notions of what’s normal. Who knows? We might all need to return to our roots, if we can once we’re clear of House Byres’ treachery.”

He patted her hand, and she smiled in relief at him. He wasn’t as handsome as Sevil, but—she could do at least three children. Or she could be a [Knight] of Solstice and just…turn some people into Vampires. She eyed Durene and licked her lips.

Lapsey was…thirsty.

 

——

 

Six blazing [Knights], an angry [Driver], two bulls, and thirteen Vampires challenged the High Passes. They did not gallop, but they passed under natural stone bridges, the cliffs where monsters stirred, threading the treacherous pass and daring anything to come down and test them.

The lesser monsters of the High Passes around the actual canyon were Eater Goats, Gargoyles, Carn Wolves, and Razorbeaks. Several Eater Goat flocks stared down at the Order of Solstice hungrily, but they were at least sentient enough to know that flames were indigestible. A few hopped closer, but the flames made them uneasy.

Carn Wolves. Eater Goats. The birds with razors for beaks—they did not understand honor. Or mercy. Certainly not glory; perhaps some animals might understand that bright rose of kindness, but not Eater Goats. They opened their mouths—then saw the Antinium blazing with determination.

Determination—different from the pure honor that Normen carried. Antherr Twotwentyonethree Herodotus, the [Indomitable Knight-Warden], burned like a certain [Innkeeper]’s eyes. His fire was the color of will, the will to swim at the bottom of an ocean. To scale a mountain or fight when there was no salvation or hope ahead for him. The flame was the desire to carve that better day out of the future piece by piece.

Determination…the goats understood determination. Their crazed eyes focused on Antherr, and they accorded him the rare designation of ‘difficult food’. Then they hopped away to eat something easier, like each other.

Fire. The Folk of Deep and Song watched as well, in envy of the Blessed Peoples. But most of all, they focused on their kindred.

She had the blessings. She had blood of the Folk of Deep and Song written on her face and skin, but the power of the Peoples in her. She was shorter, smaller, but she blazed with such a painful flame that the Folk looked away.

Kindness. A thing so many longed for and that they did not expect. It was not a pure flame; sorrow burned through it and painful kindness that had not always been true. Yet it was hers. She claimed it even after all the lack of it she had felt. Even now…it made stones weep.

But why were they passing through the mountains? This was a bad way; even the Blessed Peoples knew that. The First Doors were closed; the ways were covered in monsters and great foes.

It was far, far safer to pass through Death’s Lands. Not that the name was that comforting, but the People of Their Ancestors had kept that land for ages. Perhaps something had happened? The Folk of Deep and Song had not ventured that far in generations.

It explained why so many had come…the Folk of Deep and Song peered at their kindred as long as they dared, from their hiding places. They were secure, confident; no one had seen them, even the cleverest and most dangerous. Even the Tyrant of Flames saw them not or cared not.

—But they forgot she was of them. Her eyes roamed the grey stone. Then flicked up. The Folk of Deep and Song realized the burning [Paladin] saw them. Her fire was the fire they longed for.

Then they realized some of the other [Knights] had seen them too.

The Folk of Deep and Song fled.

 

——

 

Durene saw what had looked, even to her, like plain-grey rock shifting. She called out, standing up in her stirrups as a giant figure vanished into a cleft in the rock.

“Wait!”

The rest of the [Knights] of Solstice had been glancing up at a stone bridge overhead. A piece of huge stone wedged high overhead to form a natural bridge…or so they’d assumed.

Now, it was more probable that someone had moved that bridge of stone there to form a walkway. Durene saw more figures moving, incredibly fast, running into the darkness.

“Was that—?”

Jewel craned her neck, trying to see, but Normen spoke calmly, shading his eyes.

“Trolls, I think.”

He glanced at Durene, and she nodded, breathless. Her…they were tall! Bigger than her, and they’d been so well-hidden that, but for her fire, she wouldn’t have seen them. It was like Normen had once described to her: the flames embodied themselves in those who possessed kindness. Or…longed for it?

She had felt like they were staring at her hungrily before they realized she’d seen them. Jewel was frowning; she must not have seen anything.

But Normen, Antherr, and Ama had all picked out the Trolls. The [Necromancer] scratched Sillias under the chin.

“Flame-vision is sort of nice, isn’t it, Normen? Not that those damn Eater Goats get sad.”

“Don’t call it flame-vision, please, Ama.”

“How about fire eyes?”

No one dignified that with a response. Durene kept eying the openings in the High Passes. There must be deep cave networks in there. I wonder what it’s like.

She had the urge to explore, but she knew she had to focus, so she kept scanning the pass. Strangely…they had gone an hour in already and not seen so much as a single monster.

Eater Goats and Carn Wolves, yes, even what might have been Rock Elementals—little ones that were more like floating boulders—but no Gargoyles. They were passing by a yellow handkerchief tied to a stick in front of an impassable cliff face of rock, and Normen paused to point it out.

“Gold-rankers, perhaps? I know they were hunting the Frost Wyverns. Could they have cleared the monsters out of the area?”

“Maybe the High Passes haven’t recovered from the Eater Goats and Gargoyles attacking Orefell?”

Jewel didn’t sound quite convinced about that. Neither did Durene.

“The High Passes are supposed to have too many monsters to count, and they only get worse the higher you go. Hm. It feels like there’s been fighting here. Look at the ground.”

For an uninhabited area, there were a lot of tracks messing up the dirt. Vess squinted down at them.

“Gargoyles? Animal herd? Anyone a [Tracker]?”

“Nope.”

“I am not.”

“Halrac was…”

The Order of Solstice fell silent. The Vampires were watching the [Knights] with a mix of hope and uncertainty; the Order’s lack of insight about some aspects was probably not comforting.

However, they were good at fighting. They had just passed the handkerchief when Chaoisa snapped.

“[Dangersense]!”

“Where—giant centipedes! Ew, ew, ew—”

Vess turned, spotted huge, ropey insects the color of light dirt covering something buzzing with carrion, and began firing as they scuttled towards the band. Normen rode forwards, coating his mace with acid as Durene shouted.

“[Oath of Flames: We Will Not Fall Back!]”

The flames doubled on all the [Knights]. The centipedes, huge, capable of taking a foot off with a single bite, looked up and saw six angry [Knights] coated in fire charging at them. Then the first one hit a centipede in the face with a mace covered in acid.

“Dead gods.”

The Vampires watched the Order of Solstice take the giant centipedes apart in seconds. Durene herself cut one in half, kicked another in the face, turned, and realized they were all dead.

“Wait, that’s it? Is there another nest?”

“Nope. Ugh. They were eating this dead…what is it?”

A huge lump of something had died in the High Passes, and the centipedes had come out for food. Vess pointed at it, and Durene recoiled as Acid Flies buzzed around something hacked to bits. Normen was the only person who could get close; the Acid Flies were a bigger threat than the centipedes.

They seemed to think he was a super Acid Fly, so they buzzed away in alarm as Normen inspected the lump of flesh with a frown. Durene glanced at Normen.

“Gargoyle, you think?”

It was hacked to pieces. So badly mutilated that Durene didn’t see any stone flesh, but Normen shook his head anyways.

“Too big; I see a bit of hair too. Strange. If something killed it, I would have expected it to be eaten. It seems like the centipedes were after it; and these aren’t claw marks, I think. It looks like…hm?”

He reached over and pulled something out with a sucking sound. Vess was staring at a giant fang—when Normen showed them a broken crossbow bolt, Durene stared.

“What? Someone’s here? Adventurers?”

“Explains why the monsters are quiet. I hate to think what this thing was…hold on, I’ve got a monster manual of the High Passes. Let me try to identify it.”

Jewel fished in her packs as the Order of Solstice went back to the Vampires. She opened the book as Normen turned to the Vampires.

“Holding up so far, Miss Pedne?”

“Er…yes, Ser Normen. Is that how the Order of Solstice fights? Dead gods, I’m glad we went with you. We could handle some monsters, but no wonder you took Elia Arcsinger to pieces.”

The former farmer peeked at the centipedes, looking queasy. She sounded so…normal. That’s what made the Vampires’ situation extra-horrifying to Durene. They were just people. Not killers or monsters.

“I’m sure you could defend yourselves. I’ve seen how fast you can move. If anything, I was surprised there weren’t more tales of the Vampire Hunters getting ambushed.”

Normen frowned at the Vampires; they didn’t seem to have weapons or armor that Durene expected. But one of them just gave Normen a supercilious look. Atrenve, Durene recalled. A scribe, of all things.

“If anyone could learn how to kill, we wouldn’t be hiding, Ser Knight. Nor does strength or speed do much good against a man in armor with thirty levels.”

“True.”

The Vampires looked at each other, and one of them coughed, the grandmother with peg-legs. Two; from some health condition or injuries? Nevertheless, Xeni sat up nimbly enough and flicked her knife out of her sheath. It rotated in the air, and she caught it, demonstrating she at least looked dangerous.

“There are some who prefer to fight back. But to what end? Those fools drove us into this mess by attacking House Byres. If they had just held their peace…”

“No sense casting blame. Though if I meet those hotheads—”

They began muttering amongst themselves, and Durene was grateful Rivel was not here after all. Lapsey leaned over to Durene, licking her lips.

“I could fight if you gave me training and armor. Is…is anyone going to have a drink from the monster? I’m a bit hungry.”

All the Vampires eyed the carrion with disgust and stared at Lapsey, appalled, but Xeni narrowed her eyes and leaned over to one of the others. Durene filtered her whisper out of the voices as one of the Vampires opined Lapsey would catch something by drinking from the rotting corpse.

“…girl’s got all the instincts. If she is pure, she could get stronger. Shame she’s looney as the lot who sired her. Got any royal blood around?”

Now what did that mean? Then again…Durene thought the Vampire that Xeni was talking to looked confused as well. There were clearly things that they were keeping from the Order of Solstice. But as far as Lapsey was concerned…

Jewel saved Durene from having to reply to Lapsey by closing her book with a snap.

“Bad news, everyone. That’s a Passmaw. A dead one, but that’s my guess. One of the iconic predators of the High Passes.”

Everyone turned to her, and Vess swallowed.

“I thought that was Eater Goats.”

Jewel gave him a bright smile.

“Oh, Vess. They’re the prey. A Passmaw’s twice as big as a bull and fast. It bounds around, bites to death anything it fancies; it goes on all fours and has a weird call. Something killed that one, though; good thing too. They’re supposed to occupy a higher level of the High Passes. They only come down to hunt.”

“I’ve never heard of them! And I lived near the High Passes! How many iconic monsters does this place have?”

Vess complained loudly as the group kept moving, suddenly alert again. Jewel thumped the book she carried, a monster manual complete with illustrations she’d bought from the Adventurer’s Guild.

“See this book, Vess?”

“Yeah?”

“All High Passes monsters. Wanna know how many are Gold-rank or worse?”

“Stopitstopitstopit—”

Vess was covering his ears, and Ama was trying to shush Jewel, who was reading from the book, when they heard a gaogaogao sound from up ahead. Deep, bass—Jewel blanched.

“That’s a Passmaw.”

“You bastard! You cursed us!”

Vess drew his wands as the Order of Solstice halted and the horses shied away. Normen glanced ahead.

“If they’re as fast as you said, we need to engage them. Let’s find it before it finds u—”

Gaogaogao! Durene heard another wail. Then another. This time, Durene paled, and one of the Vampires moaned.

“Three of them? Oh fuck, we’re dead.”

Ama squeaked. Normen glanced back the way they’d come.

“If we need to, we deploy wall spells and hold them off. Chaoisa, get your wagon to the side of the road. Let’s—”

Thwoom. Then they felt an explosion from ahead. Durene held out a hand as her ears twitched. She heard…shouting? Faint, but it was definitely voices—Durene looked at Normen.

“There’s someone out there. Let’s go!”

He blinked, then nodded at once. Ama shout-whispered.

“Go? Are you crazy? Wait a second, get back here! Are you cr—”

 

——

 

Three Passmaws were leaping from the cliffs of the High Passes. They were like manticores or lions in a way; they had huge manes of hair and powerful hindlegs, but they were unnaturally compact. They were big enough to take bites out of a bull, but they preferred to leap from spot to spot, attacking in huge lunges, mouths open.

—And they were fighting. One of the Passmaws flinched as crossbow bolts rained off its pelt, which only allowed a few of the steel-tipped bolts to penetrate. Another dove down, snapping, but a flurry of blades made it back away, mouth bleeding.

Even so, it was dire fighting. Three had come down to avenge their packmate, and they were bounding, trying to kill the company of [Soldiers] fighting while trying to pull back down the pass.

“Reinforcements? Where are our damn reinforcements?”

They were cut off from the main group. A swearing Antinium with a greatsword took another slash at the Passmaw leaping back from him. Crusader 57 looked around as he fired a crossbow with his other hands.

“They’re up ahead! If we pull back, we are dead. Forwards!”

That came from their [Company Commander]. Crusader 57 swore a blue streak as the Passmaw jumped forwards again, ignoring the blades striking it. It only feared the Antinium with a glowing mace: Crusader 53.

“Join the 7th Hive, they said. It’s better pay than Liscor’s army, they said. Then Xrn says ‘let’s go fight in the High Passes’—”

The rest of his squad screamed at him to shut up. The Passmaw tensed to leap. It was aiming straight for Squad 5! Crusader 57 tensed for the deadly charge, and he saw a bright bolt of light hit the Passmaw in one of its eyes.

The monster reeled with its signature cry, and Crusader 57 looked around.

“Took you long enough, you stupid Centenium bitc—what the—?”

A [Knight] on horseback galloped past Squad 5, and a mace coated in acid hit the Passmaw in the face. It was so huge the blow only made it flinch, then snap back; Normen went skidding backwards. He checked his horse, but the animals just snorted in fury.

The Passmaw turned, ready to spring, and someone shouted.

“Normen! Back!”

Jewel threw an acid jar into the Passmaw’s mouth, and then it leapt. It rolled around, screaming, as she slashed at it on one side, Normen battering it on the other with his mace.

Sensing the danger, another Passmaw leapt down, and Squad 5 pivoted to face it—only to see a single Antinium striding towards it with a greatsword raised.

“You idiot! Get back in formation! Get back in—”

Too late. The giant Antinium-eater leapt, and Antherr pivoted. His greatsword came up, and the Passmaw went skidding sideways.

“[Parry the Foe]. [Mighty Swing].”

Antherr’s greatsword left a huge gash down the Passmaw’s side across one leg, but it didn’t slice as deeply as he had hoped. He grunted as the Passmaw rose, roaring.

“Requesting backup.”

“Go, Sillias! Claw attack!”

A far smaller bone cat leapt on the Passmaw’s face, tearing with its claws. As the Passmaw shook it off, a huge woman that looked like she was half made of stone ran up. Durene shouted.

“Antherr, go for the side! [Shockwave Slam]!”

She rammed her shield into Passmaw’s face so hard that the dust in the air rippled. As Crusader 57 watched, mandibles open, Antherr pivoted.

“[Giant’s Stab].”

This time, his greatsword pierced deep, and the Passmaw howled. It began to tear at Durene, and she punched it in the face with her greatsword’s hilt, cursing as she gave ground. Antherr spoke calmly.

“Now burn.”

Hazel flames raced up the hilt of his greatsword, and the blade turned orange with heat. The Passmaw jerked, trying to turn and rip the searing blade out of its side; Durene slashed it across one eye. The screaming monster kept thrashing, but Sillias was tearing its hide from on top of it, and Vess rode past the fighting group.

“[Bolt of Radiance: Explosive Charge]!”

He fired a single bright light into the scorched hole the greatsword left as Antherr tore it free. Even Crusader 57 winced as innards blew out the hole.

“Yuck.”

The Passmaw still kept moving, though it was clearly hurt. The [Knights] kept fighting as Squad 5 charged into the fray as well. Faced with ten more blades and the Dragonbone Mace that Crusader 53 hammered through its skull, the monster finally went down. Then both sides could appraise each other and begin shouting.

“Who are you?”

“Who are you? Wait—this is Liscor’s—Crusader 53?”

One of the Workers in Squad 5 opened his mandibles in shock.

“Vess?”

The [Soldier] stared up at the Drake in armor, and Vess nearly fell off his horse. He reached down—but Crusader 57 shouted.

“Kiss later, you stupid idiots! Get the damn monsters!”

Everyone whirled—but the other two Passmaws were down. One was melting, faced with an overload of acid from Jewel and Normen, and the rest of Battalion 1 had taken down the other. A [Templar] was standing over its corpse, wrenching a glowing sword out of its skull. Vess shouted in disbelief.

“Crusader 53! I thought you were in Hectval!”

“I joined the 7th Hive. We have been engaged in the High Passes this entire month. What are you doing here? I am very surprised.”

Crusader 53 didn’t have a voice, so one of the Workers translated for him. But the Soldier was waving excitedly with all four hands. Crusader 57 was more concerned with the presence of the Order of Solstice.

“What are you idiots doing here? And who are they?”

He pointed at the wagon of nervous people that had rolled around the bend in the road. For answer, Ser Normen strode over and touched his helmet as he met the [Company Commander].

“We are escorting some people through the High Passes. We thought we were alone; did you say the 7th Hive is here? Fighting?”

He looked as startled as everyone else. Before the commander could speak, Crusader 57 laughed incredulously.

“Taking passengers through here? Are you stupid? Wait, you’re Erin’s [Knights]. Of course you’re stupid. We’ve been fighting here all damn month, and the monsters keep coming! They’re chewing up those idiot Drakes on the other side too, or so I hear. All for Lady Reinhart. Fuck. At least the pay’s good.”

Someone slapped the back of his head as Normen blinked at Crusader 57. Then he twisted.

“Wait. Lady Reinhart?”

 

——

 

Magnolia Reinhart, head of House Reinhart, did not like roughing it. Nor camping, so it was amazing she had been out here as long as she had. Then again, having a magical, portable mansion helped.

She was even having tea, with all the sugar, as she watched a battle in the middle distance. Ressga poured sugar into a cup—then tea—and got a nod of approval from Magnolia.

“Thank you, my dear.”

The [Lady] got a happy nod from the Goblin, who stood back and gave Ressa an expectant look. The [Head Maid] gave the Goblin an uneasy glance; she wasn’t used to having a fan.

Then they all turned their attention back to the fighting. Magnolia lifted a pair of glasses to her eyes.

The High Passes were being cleared. It was the first step to her plan; if you couldn’t keep the lower regions safe, how would you ever build a tunnel through them? So much had happened; she had laid dreams for the future. Now, everything was in jeopardy, so she had begun.

A Drake army was engaged on the southern end of the High Passes. Mostly Oteslian [Soldiers], but levies had come from Salazsar and other sympathetic cities. They had not been having a good time.

“Fall back! Fall back!”

The famous Drake formations were breaking as Drakes fled another monster unique to the High Passes. No…a common monster, but one the Drakes had never seen as deadly. Until now.

Slimes.

There were three of them. They had an entire battalion on the run. Understandable. After all—one of them was a Dust Slime. The other was a Crystal Slime. And the third…Magma.

The last one made the most sense, but Magnolia just assumed they were higher grades of slimes. They had to be to survive here. And they looked nasty.

The Dust Slime wasn’t a cute, rolling orb. The moment the Drakes had engaged it, its body had burst into floating motes of dust. The dust drifted down—then exploded whenever it got near anything the slime wanted to kill.

The ground was poc-marked from the explosions, and the slime was working with its friends. The Crystal Slime kept shooting shards of crystal like arrows. Whenever a Drake tried to attack it, it would extend a lance of crystal. It could even make jaws, which snapped down, nearly taking out a [Healer] dragging a wounded Drake back.

The Magma Slime was just twenty feet across. And it was mad about the water spells that the Drakes had hurled on it.

Fight. Level. Try not to die. The slimes weren’t the worst thing the Drakes or the 7th Hive had engaged so far. Ressa spoke.

“The Small Queen has personally engaged a Stone Elemental Lord, Lady Magnolia.”

“That one again? The old man told her to avoid it.”

“I believe she was overconfident. There is also a report from 1st Battalion. Intruders.”

Magnolia raised her brows.

“The Vampires finally figured out the only route they could take?”

“Not quite. Your guess was off.”

Magnolia glanced down at the report, intrigued, but she was focused on the fighting below. Drakes were running, trying to regroup as the three slimes advanced. This was a rare sight; the sight she had longed for.

Not Drakes in trouble. That was everyday. Magnolia stared down as a figure strode forwards. At last, she saw a Dragon dancing.

 

——

 

The Dragonlord of Flame wore the guise of Demsleth. An old man in travel-worn clothes, but today, he also carried a sword.

“Stay with me, people. Remember—keep moving! It’s all about rhythm, rhythm…”

He was sweating. The Dragon was afraid. He always was.

If he had been in his real body, the slimes would have rolled off as fast as they could. They could sense relative threats; most monsters in the High Passes didn’t challenge him purely on the basis of his size and presence.

But the old Human man could get hurt. And his pain settings were set to normal, so he was sweating. Yes. Were his legs shaking? Not much.

Demsleth turned as the Drakes spotted him. The relief force was him, two Antinium in maid outfits, and a dozen Humans, including Reynold. The [Butler] had a sword in his hand, and they spread out as the slimes pivoted to this new threat.

Taletevirion had better not be watching. Teriarch saw the Magma Slime bulge—and then spit a globule of lava at him. The molten stone was so hot that even proximity would be dangerous.

The heat burned through the air as the Crystal Slime shot a trio of crystal bullets at Demsleth. They were fast, apex slimes. So—the Dragon did the only thing he could do.

He threw his head back and slid under the first crystal shard, pirouetted out of the way of the glob of magma, and kept moving. He swayed out of the range of the second shard of crystal, slashed his sword down to block a glob of magma, and back-stepped out of the way of the third crystal.

The two slimes paused, mystified, as the Dragon shimmied to the side, left and right. His feet were interweaving, his hands were loose, and he was swaying his body. He jiggled his arms—leaned and dodged another projectile.

Dancing. What made a Dragon a Dragon? Magical superiority? Crushing fangs? Size? Any species could do that.

“One, two, and—”

A mote of dust landed and exploded. But Teriarch wasn’t there. He’d leapt on a rock, swarmed up some stones, and kicked off—all in an instant. He landed on his hands, flipped himself onto his feet, and kept gyrating.

It felt like the slimes were staring at him. He definitely felt other eyes on him. Possibly that girl, Magnolia, was laughing her backside off. But so what?

The Dragonlord of Flames had forgotten how to dance. Now—he was relearning the steps that had doomed Wyrm Kings and foes of old.

—It was hard. Teriarch’s skin baked under the heat of a rain of lava, and he cut the air, incorporating his sword into the desperate defense. As he did a safety hop, Teriarch turned and saw Reynold spinning out of the way of a shard of crystal.

The servants were dancing too. They had picked up the style, and even Chesacre and Thaina were dodging the slimes. They were both Soldiers, so their footwork needed work, but their colorful carapaces lit up, and one left an afterimage as she ducked out of the way of an exploding mote of dust.

“—and three and four and—”

An aggressively salsaing Dragon advanced on the Magma Slime, and it began to roll back into the cave it had emerged from. The other two slimes began to retreat as well.

The Dragon kept moving until the monsters were in full retreat. Then he struck a pose and began to pull off some of the old Zeresian underwater dances for the Drakes and that [Lady].

The [Soldiers] stared at him. After a while, Demsleth turned and saw a one-winged Drake gazing at him with a haunted look on her face. Rafaema, wounded, guilty, and ego shattered, watching a silly Dragon dancing.

He kept going. She had to learn how to dance too. No matter how damn embarrassing it was. He just wished the Goblin would stop applauding.

 

——

 

The Order of Solstice had no idea what was going on. They had been prepared to take on the High Passes solo—suicidal, perhaps, but doable.

Right now, there were armies in it, and they were attracting the kind of attention that made the journey even worse.

Durene had to drag Vess away from Crusader 53 on the promise that they’d visit the base camp the 7th Hive had set up. But they had to keep moving to get the Vampires through the High Passes.

The problem was—the real rulers had come out to play. And they didn’t respect anything. Even the Small Queen.

“Dead gods!”

Lightning was raining down as Normen’s flames flared brightly. Honor. Honor against his foes was a heavy weight. To his allies?

The bright flare of green made some of the Antinium leap out of the way of a falling rock just in time. They moved faster, turning, catching themselves in relief—Normen raised a hand.

If you had it—it mattered. Then he directed his attention above.

Durene stared upwards and saw the older, bigger brother of the Rock Elementals.

An Elemental Lord of Stone. It was a glowing gemstone as big as she was, surrounded by rock. A colossus floating through the air. Right now, it was hurling a hill’s worth of stones at a floating blue Antinium.

The Small Queen was locked in a firefight with the Elemental, dodging boulders and replying with bolts of lightning and meteors of light. But it was the size of a hill and could hurl boulders into the air. Even as the Order of Solstice stared at the fight in the middle of the pass they were trying to go down, they saw a group of Antinium lower their bows and flee; a boulder slammed into the ground, and the world rocked. Ama pointed up.

“Okay. How the hell are we getting past that?”

The Small Queen had been fighting for the last ten minutes, and neither side was backing down. Durene frowned upwards.

“Why is she even fighting it? Did it attack first?”

“It’s a giant rock monster. She saw it, she blasted it, dumbass.”

Crusader 57 had apparently decided a good way to get out of work was to act as a guide for them. Durene stared at the Antinium.

“Yeah, but if it’s like the Rock Elementals we met, it’s probably not hostile.”

The ones guarding their cave had only pursued the Order of Solstice to the long hallway. They had, in fact, been the most non-aggressive monsters that Durene had ever met.

Crusader 57’s antennae waved, and his mandibles opened.

“…Huh. You should’ve been here before Xrn hit it with all those [Shatterbolts], then. Mind you, it was coming at us already. It crawled down from the mountain.”

“Why?”

The Worker shrugged.

“Dunno. But we were kicking the Creler crap out of its buddies, so maybe it got pissy. All the mini Rock Elementals. See?”

He pulled something out of his belt pouch and showed Durene an angrily vibrating stone encased in metal wire.

“See, this is worth—hey! My bonus pay!”

Durene snatched the Rock Elemental, then slapped Crusader 57 across the back of the head.

“You morons! Who else has them? Normen! Look!”

The Order of Solstice turned. Normen didn’t get what Durene was holding right away, but Jewel figured it out. She began swearing—then she and Durene were racing to interrogate the [Soldiers] present. They had nearly fifty such stones that they carefully prised free from the wires they were contained in. Some were cracked, and Durene had heard the Antinium had broken several Rock Elementals. But it was worth a shot—

“Hey, you!”

Vess got the Elemental Lord’s attention by firing a spell at it. When the living mountain turned, he hid behind Normen. But the [Knight] just held up the sack of stones that was trying to float. He hurled it straight up, and both ran.

Xrn paused as the Elemental Lord floated closer to the stones. It cast a shadow over the pass, and Durene, close to the gigantic monster, gulped as she saw the crystal face turn to her. A glowing intelligence—it seemed to count the crystals that floated out of the bag.

Was it happy? Outraged? Did it have emotions? Durene didn’t know. Ama gasped.

“I see sadness—”

Jewel swallowed.

“I think it’s pissed.”

But the Stone Elemental just let the smaller gemstones fly upwards and begin claiming parts of its ‘body’. Then it swiveled to face the Small Queen. Then, for some reason, to Durene.

“Please don’t attack—”

Durene nearly fell flat on her face as, to her great relief, the Elemental Lord began to float upwards. It headed back up the mountainside, and the Small Queen let it go. She floated down, visibly panting, but straightened.

“Who are you?”

Whoa. For a second, Durene had thought it was the old Xrn, the elegant Centenium of legends. But she had forgotten; Xrn had died. Her body was…

Well, it looked sort of like her old one. Someone had made great effort to capture the feminine form and elegance and even gotten the color mostly right. But form did not fit function.

The light shining out of Xrn’s eyes before her death had been colorful, and she had been filled with power. Now, though, the [Thaumaturge] seemed to be barely able to contain her magic with her body.

Her eyes were like lighthouses, and the magic even came out of her mouth. She did not look…well. She had to sit down as Antinium flocked around her. It seemed like she had to forcefully reduce the power and intensity of her eyes.

“Get me…magicore. I have overloaded my body again. You. [Knights]. Why are you…here?”

Durene let Normen answer. She was glancing up at the High Passes. Avalanches had sent boulders skidding down, but she swore that she saw the faintest glimmer of red up there.

Were they watching? Approvingly? Durene lifted a hand, and a single boulder fell from above.

Then the Order of Solstice continued on their way.

 

——

 

Monsters assailed them two-thirds of the way towards the other end of the High Passes. Eater Goats…with collars?

The Order of Solstice hacked through them, then saw and heard shrieks from above. Finally, one of the common enemies of the High Passes showed themselves. But oddly.

Gargoyles. Durene’s best guess was that the Gargoyle population of the High Passes had been decimated by their attack with the Void Goat. However, the 7th Hive and Drake armies were upsetting the delicate ecosystem of the High Passes.

And it still was a system; driving the monsters away from the ground would put pressures on every monster higher up.

Accordingly, it seemed like an entire tribe of Gargoyles had been fleeing the Antinium advance. But it seemed like they thought the [Knights] were either encroaching on their territory or easy prey.

“Sillias! [Arch Leap]! [Weight of My Sorrows]!”

The bone cat leapt up, and then Durene saw the bones coat with blue flames. Blue fire. Cold…heavy…

The cat slammed into one of the Gargoyles, a small one with a club, and broke a wing. The writhing Gargoyle screamed as the others attacked, using long clubs to batter Normen. One stared with dismay at the acid eating away at its club after striking the [Knight].

Normen was a brilliant glare of honor, making the Gargoyles shield their eyes as he lashed out with his acid-covered mace. Antherr’s flames had enough force that when he locked blades with a Gargoyle holding a crude axe, the impact shattered his enemy’s weapon. Jewel’s sword ignited everything it struck, and Durene?

“Durene! Watch out! [Wall of Flames]!”

Vess ignited a wall of mercy’s fire, and a Gargoyle punched it, then stared at its lacerated fist as the flames became solid. Durene broke through the fire, red flames coating her shield.

A blow from a hammer wielded by a monster bigger and stronger than she was; she reeled. Her head rang, but she pivoted, swinging her sword.

“Right back at you.”

Her sword hit the Gargoyle with all the force it had just unloaded on her, and it stared at the huge wound cleaving through its ribs. It dropped its hammer, backing away.

The Gargoyle tribe was trying to flee as Vess hammered them with spells. Jewel was shouting.

“Take them out at the wings, Vess! Or they’ll be back!”

There were more Gargoyles high above; the Knights of Solstice were fighting a running defense of the wagon where Chaoisa rolled. The Vampires were cowering, but the Contempt of Man just kept going.

She had her reins in her fists as her bulls roared, swinging their horns at any Gargoyle that got close. With her other hand, Chaoisa had a long cudgel.

“[These Wheels Don’t Stop]! [Wagon: Damage Shield]—eat shit, you bastards!”

She kicked in the face a Gargoyle that was trying to grab her. One spitting stone shards at the wagon stopped, not understanding why the wood wouldn’t shatter in the face of its assault.

The [Unstoppable Roller] accelerated. Not fast, but with the momentum of a moving boulder. She rolled over a Gargoyle’s foot as it tried to batter down Normen’s guard, and Chaoisa snapped as another tried to grab one of her bulls.

“[Stored Retribution]!”

The Gargoyle went reeling backwards as a glowing fist gave it the uppercut of its life. Stone pieces of its jaw landed with orange blood, and Chaoisa began to burn.

She was hunched in her seat, unafraid. Her eyes were on her ‘cargo’, on the Gargoyles, on the Order of Solstice, wary, alert. But mostly?

She was just pissed. She was chewing on a mouthful of tobacco, and she didn’t realize at first that she was smoking. Orange flames burst across her spiked wheels and illuminated the eyes of the Gargoyles backing away from her.

“Is that…?”

Jewel spun. Normen raised his brows.

“The fire of…frustration?”

The orange flames made Durene angry when she looked at them. They were the flames of someone who had had it up to here with things…an hour ago. It was the look in someone’s eye before they turned the table over and hit you with a chair.

It was the least honorable flame the [Knights] had. It fit Chaoisa to a tee. She realized she was burning and cursed in surprise as the final threat arrived.

The biggest Gargoyle that Durene had ever seen landed with a crash, blocking the road. It had a two-bladed staff made of stone and even, Durene realized with a gulp, crude hide armor. It faced the Contempt of Man as she rolled towards it.

She spat over the side of her wagon, and the phlegm and tobacco juice caught fire. The Contempt of Man locked eyes with the Gargoyle, refusing to break away or slow.

“I’ll take it on. Keep the others off me—”

Durene called out, but someone seized her arm before she could challenge the Gargoyle.

Normen.

“No. I see a light. This one is mine.”

The [Paladin] twisted, and the Grandmaster of the Order of Solstice stared at the Gargoyle. It recognized him and hesitated as Normen shook the acid off his mace and strode forwards.

Honor? From a Gargoyle?

Vess mouthed as the rest of the Gargoyles fell back. Normen raised his shield as the Gargoyle hunched, holding its double-edged staff high. It hesitated—and Normen glanced at Durene. Then he lowered his mace.

He raised one hand, and the Gargoyle stared at him, curved beak unreadable. Its glowing, orange eyes swiveled to the wounded Gargoyles flying or climbing back upwards, and Normen stood there.

“Everyone—follow the wagon. Don’t attack unless you have to.”

He glanced at Durene, and she remembered the Rock Elementals. Maybe…?

The Gargoyle Bossel stood like a sentinel until the last of the Gargoyles were well up the cliff. Then it leapt into the air without a word. Normen exhaled, and when he turned, he had a bemused look on his face.

“For a [Knight] Order, we seem to not fight as much as we do get into scraps.”

Durene scratched the back of her head as she stared upwards at the stone shape flapping upwards. Then she saw another flash of pink and waved at it.

“Maybe…that’s the job of [Knights]. We don’t kill everything that moves. That’s what adventurers do.”

Jewel raised her head as she gulped water down and wiped sweat from her face. She pointed a finger at Durene.

“Hey…fair.”

 

——

 

It was near nightfall by the time that they ran into a mansion sitting on the side of a cliff. Everyone blinked at it; Antherr walked into the wagon.

“What the f—”

Lady Magnolia Reinhart was walking towards them, smiling ruefully, arms outspread in welcome.

“Ser Normen, the Order of Solstice! What a surprise! May I offer you refreshments? Do relax; if you’ve made it this far, you’ve reached the ‘safe zone’ of the High Passes. Thirty more minutes will see you clear the pass, but it is quite late, so I offer you rooms for the night. Dear me, I should have expected you to be so bold.”

Her eyes flicked to the wagon as Durene saw a bunch of [Maids] and [Butlers] hanging around as if it were normal and a cordon of Drakes, who stared at her as if they’d walked out of Rhir’s hells.

Which was what it felt like. Normen glanced at the wagon, and Magnolia added in a carrying voice.

“Of course, if you’d like to complete your mission, I quite understand. Later tonight then? I assure you, my business is purely with making the High Passes crossable. If the Order of Solstice shares that goal…it may be quite beneficial.”

“Uh oh. Here come the politics.”

Ama whispered loudly, but Durene just sagged in relief. Right now, she’d take a cup of tea, even if it was all sugar.

 

——

 

They’d made it. Somehow. When Chaoisa finally rolled out of the High Passes and Durene saw some green hills covered in grass, she just flopped over onto her face.

“Are we alive, Vess?”

He flopped on top of her.

“I dunno.”

“We made it. Should we…escort you further? Or are there people who could link up with you from here?”

Normen was swaying as well, but he spoke to the Vampires, and Xeni looked around.

“There might be watchers on this side. If there are, they won’t get near that Drake army or you…in the future, I think you could count on anyone left here being safe.”

Normen nodded, straightening, and Durene’s head rose from the grass.

“In the future?”

She looked at Vess and then realized what she’d committed them to. Jewel nudged Normen a few times.

“We…we’re glad we could help. But I mean, the next time…maybe in, like, a month? Another few months? That was crazy.”

Normen nodded slowly, glancing back the way he’d come.

“We would want to move faster next time. And any group over twenty is probably bound to attract attention. Forty is likely the limit; we can’t run the High Passes regularly.”

Jewel relaxed, and Ama sighed in relief. Normen went on.

“Four or six times a month would be the most we could do.”

“What?”

The others shouted, but Xeni just nodded.

“If you do…we’ll be in your debt. We won’t forget this. I swear; the others will hear of it, wherever they are. Thank you.”

She turned, then paused as Lapsey slid out of the wagon. She approached Durene, who tried to get up to look somewhat decent for a farewell. But Durene was so tired…

Lapsey shyly offered a hand and pulled Durene up with a grunt. She ducked her head.

“You actually brought us here. Through the High Passes. I…I’m sorry for hitting you.”

“It’s okay. I know what it’s like. I just—be careful who you like, okay? Some people are genuinely nice and caring, and that’s great. But it’s a big world out there, and we can keep doing better.”

Durene smiled awkwardly, and Lapsey flushed. She glanced at the dozen Vampires waiting for her and then at Durene. Then she hesitated.

“I…I know. And you’re all the bravest, most splendid [Knights]…real knights I’ve ever seen. I don’t want to ask, but—since you’re here, you have to go back, right? Would you have room for me? I’m serious, you know. I won’t be a bother! I’ll do anything you want and train and—”

She caught herself. Then she gestured at her body.

“I want to protect my people. I can do it! Give me a sword and training and I won’t care if I get hurt! I’m strong! I’ll protect them all, and I’ll kill the Hunters. Even if it takes my life.”

The other Vampires, Pedne, Xeni, Atrenve, turned back to look at Lapsey. It was hard to tell from some of their expressions what they thought, but there was a warning in Xeni’s glance. Normen frowned at Durene, but he nodded hesitantly. He saw honor. Jewel clearly saw glory; Ama sighed as she glanced over her shoulder.

“There goes the budget on armor.”

—But Vess nudged Durene. His eyes were narrowed as he stared at Lapsey, and if he saw something…it was not for her enemies. And Durene?

Durene looked at Lapsey, young, earnest, like a younger Durene. Just as dangerous in her way, and she had loved someone truly for coming into her life and giving her a chance to be someone else.

Yet—the half-Troll girl placed a hand on Lapsey’s shoulder. She smiled as the Vampiress gave her an uncertain look.

“No.”

“Huh?”

The Order of Solstice turned to Durene, and the half-Troll girl shook her head.

“Go with your people, Lapsey. Learn what being a Vampire is before…committing to something else. We don’t need vengeance or a [Knight] trying to kill the Hunters.”

Lapsey’s eyes widened in shock, then outrage. Her voice rose, dangerous, Durene thought, and her hands opened, resembling claws.

“But they’re killing us!”

“I know. But what happens if we train you to use a sword and wear armor, Lapsey? How many of them do you plan on killing?”

Normen’s eyes flickered. He glanced at Durene, and Lapsey wore a blank expression on her face, suddenly mirrored by several Vampires behind her.

“It’s a war. Why are you asking?”

“Because we’re not [Soldiers]. We’re [Knights].”

Vess spoke up calmly, and then he was holding up his lantern. The flame of mercy was bright, painful, and made several Vampires look away. The Order of Solstice stood there, and Durene spoke.

“We’ll do what we can. Laken will. We are not Vampires’ enemies. We’re not friends of the Vampire Hunters. We don’t want anyone else to die.”

“Easy for someone who’s not being hunted to say—”

Pedne began, but Xeni stomped on her foot. The oldest of Vampires bowed her head to the [Knights] and spoke calmly.

“Said hard for a group who dared the High Passes to help us. No one will forget what you do, [Knights], nor anyone else who gave us succor when we needed it. You draw your line, we will draw ours. Come on, Lapsey, girl. You’ll be needed where we travel next just as much as here.”

Lapsey stared at Durene with a betrayed look. Yet then she seemed relieved, as if she hadn’t thought her decision through or had seen in Durene’s reply the catch. She nodded and stepped back…but then spoke, eyes on the sky beyond the mountains past Durene. Her voice was faraway and suddenly very calm and serious.

“Someday, we’ll come home. Don’t worry. I’ll remember everything you did for us.”

With that, she turned and began to walk away into the night, as if her words hadn’t just cast all of the Order of Solstice’s decisions into doubt.

“Great. That wasn’t ominous at all. Anyone want me to shoot her? I’ve got a clean shot. Don’t look at me like that, Normen. I’m the Knight of Depression, not the Knight of Clean Fighting.”

Ama whispered to the others. Normen just pushed her wand down.

“They’re a people. Good, ill…we’re doing what we can. If they return, we will judge them just as we did now.”

Antherr nodded, and Jewel sighed. The Order of Solstice looked at each other, relieved, worried for the future, or simply tired and hungry. It was done. It wasn’t perfect, but it was them. And Durene?

She just let out a huge, long breath of relief. Then she put an arm around her comrades and hugged them tight.

She wondered if Magnolia Reinhart had any raw potatoes.

 

[Paladin of Fire’s Oath Level 27!]

[Skill – Gratitude of the Championed obtained!]

[Boon – Sanguinum Gratitude (Minor) — Silent Footfalls obtained!]

[Boon – Commonfolk’s Blessing (Minor) — A Finger’s Discount obtained!]

[Boon – Commonfolk’s Blessing (Lesser) — Folk’s Vitales Gift obtained!]

 

 

 

 

Author’s Note:

I’m going to write a longer one today. I’d do a blog, but this feels fine, and it was central to the chapter. Apologies about the delay; I wanted to write it while en-route to the wedding, but I just didn’t have the time, and I was honestly stressed about travel and the wedding itself.

Airports are, as we all know, a purgatorial hell. I hate them so much. I hate sitting and not really thinking or doing anything fun or meaningful. Perhaps it’s my mentality or inexperience. I did watch The Godfather on the flight there, so that was a plus. It’s not a bad movie.

But to the wedding I went, and I won’t share too many details except to say it was for my brother. I have been to three weddings so far (aside from as a child, which doesn’t really count), and I have another to go to this year.

This one, though, mattered in ways I don’t think I need to explain. I was also due to give a speech at the wedding itself, and it made me nervous. I recall waking up the night before the wedding and practicing it for two hours in my head until I could recite it without notes.

A small thing, but it mattered, and I think it was well-received. Wedding speeches are probably the lowest bar ever, though—but I am glad it went well.

It was the most fun wedding I’ve ever been to. It mattered greatly to me, and I wouldn’t have missed it for anything. But it was also a huge distraction because I was functionally incapable of writing, not only because I had to wake up like a person who craves sunlight, but because I was in Arizona.

I don’t understand Arizona. The entire drive into that city was hills of cacti. It was a mistake to even head west when the original settlers of America-land thought they needed a place to live.

However, here’s the other thing you need to know: I went somewhere high up in altitude and wow was that unpleasant. I could feel the effects of the altitude on my need for water, mental state, and everything else. I don’t do well with altitudes; I’ve been extremely altitude sick on mountains in Nepal. So all this to say…I’d better keep close to sea level or whatever the heck it is where I am at.

I’m still a bit tired from my travels, but I wish my brother all the best (and his wife, whom I quite like and respect). They are on their honeymoon now, and, I believe, stuck in an airport due to Crowdstrike’s amazing technical failure (if this makes no sense to you in the future, look it up).

…The wedding went very well, so I guess he used up all his luck. I am back to writing, and I hope you enjoy this chapter, which DID benefit from time to edit. I will be planning more chapters soon, and I actually came up with an amazingly ambitious new arc that I’m still working on. So variety does help. But for now…

I feel a bit different. Mostly, though, weddings are really stressful. However, I shall wish to find someone that fits that strange partnership as well as my brother and sister-in-law. That’s all from me.

—pirateaba

 

 

Stream Art: Meeting by Fiore

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Nerrhavia by ArtsyNada!

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Mrsha’s New Ride, and Snow Elemental by jawjee!

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Vernoue and Kid Lyonette by Chalyon!

 

En-Garde by 1AutumnLeaf!

 

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Ryoka and Tyrion Bikers by Yura!

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Norechel by Relia!

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Alevica by Anito!

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