The first thing Jack thought when he was tied up, was that he hadn’t learned enough.

It was a strange thought to be the first one that came to him as he was bound and gagged, but his brain always chose the strangest moments to focus in on things like that. It was something that had started in Nymia—he would find himself in a potentially life-threatening situation and was struck with the realization that he had messed up. He did something wrong and it became suddenly very obvious. Sometimes it was a large mistake, but often it was something small like this—something he should have seen coming.

After he and Orvalys had heard the explosion in the woods they had snuck back to the edge of the meadow. Everything was bathed in the flickering lights of orange fire and flashing purple glitz and confirmed their suspicions of some sort of attack rather than an accident. That was when they had quickly run through their options. They could make a break for it, or they could go back, join the fight, and investigate whatever was happening. In the end, it hadn’t really mattered though, because as they had been discussing their next move a group of armed raiders appeared out of the darkness between the trees and immediately tied them up.

And that’s when he had thought it—I haven’t learned enough

It wasn’t the general regret one has in the face of a potentially imminent death—not the classic ‘I had so much to live for and so much to do!’ sort of feeling. It was more that he had been overall incredibly stupid.

If he would have learned even a little bit more about Tinaria and this world in which it resided, he would have potentially been able to work his way out of whatever situation this would turn out to be—or maybe even avoid it entirely.

So, as his face was shoved into the mud, Jack realized that he had been subconsciously choosing not to learn about this world, and that was very, very stupid. It wasn’t because he wasn’t interested in it—in fact, everything about his time here had been interesting, but maybe that was part of the problem. He had been insanely curious about Nymia, and because of that he eventually became incredibly attached to it. All at once he became aware that subconsciously maybe that’s what he was trying to avoid here, and it was a foolish thing to do with his and Orv’s lives on the line.

Good thing I’m realizing it now though huh?

What he did know, was when the deeply emerald-skinned warriors emerged from the trees speaking in their clicking language and brandishing strangely shaped glitzers, he had no idea what or who they were, only that they were neither Tinarian nor Yarvan. It didn’t help that from his vantage point down in the dirt, he could only see the sandalled foot of one of the captors. The foot kicked him hard in the stomach.

“I think they want you to answer,” Orvalys said from somewhere behind him. “They keep asking you questions.”

“Does it happen to be in a language we know about?” Jack asked.

“They speak Thori.”

“What’s a Thori?” Jack asked. There was another kick and a flurry of words that Jack thought sounded demanding and probably threatening as well.

“I told you about the Thori,” Orvalys said quickly. “Remember we had a whole lesson and we—” He was interrupted with more sharp clicking words.

“Are you sure?” Jack said, trying to keep a lookout for more sandalled feet. “It’s not ringing a bell.”

“Absolutely,” Orv said. “You probably weren’t listening. You do that sometimes.”

“Well, you speak to them!” Jack said quickly. The shouting seemed to increase.

“I never learned Thori,” Orvalys said. “I never had access to it. It’s outlawed in Tinaria.”

A pair of hands wrenched Jack off the ground and held him up to face several people with strange glitzers pointed at him. These weren’t the dark metal, riveted style that the Tinarians used. They were sleeker somehow and didn’t seem to be made of metal at all. They looked almost like they were constructed from polished bone or something similar to it. One of those glitzers made contact with his head. It was strange the details you pick up on when you only probably have a few more moments to live.

Well. This is it. I suppose dying in a forest in a world far away from home isn’t the worst way this could go.

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“O’oki tun ri’int tojink,” said the voice holding the glitzer. The sleek device began to hum with the foreboding sound that came right before firing.

“Wait!” Jack said suddenly in Yarvan. “You said tojink! You speak Yarvan?” He hadn’t understood the other strange words, but that one he was all too familiar with. “I speak Yarvan too! If you’d like an explanation instead of just shooting us, I could offer one.”

There was sudden silence from all the warriors, a moment of tension.

Then came the sound of glitz exploding.

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In a small copse of trees at the top of a middle-sized hill, someone watched through a spyglass as Commander Genys broke camp. The figure—shrouded in shadows and clothed in rags designed to break up their outline—had been watching for a while now. It had watched when the camp was first set up, as well as throughout the night. It had monitored the attack, and now it paid particularly close attention to what was happening now.

The commander had a slight limp, and half her face drooped. The effects of Thori poison were quite obvious, but it seemed none of the recruits dared bring it to her attention. Genys herself went on in denial as well, as if it wasn’t glaringly obvious to those around her. The woman’s emotions were easier to read than she thought. She was weak and she hid it with bravado.

The figure had noticed that long before now—and it wasn’t even in the days it had been following the squadron north. No, it had first seen Genys’ true self in the darkened streets of Izutis when the Commander had discovered her sister’s corpse.

But none of that was as important. The figure with the spyglass continued to watch as Genys directed her troops, and when a specific recruit was called into what remained of her tent, the spyglass didn’t waver. It wasn’t long before the tent flap opened back up, and Genys went straight for one of her messengers. She handed the individual a sealed scroll and seemed to give a few orders before directing the messenger to one of the smaller flyers. In a moment they had fired up the vehicle, and the figure immediately put away the spyglass and sprinted down the hill.

The smaller airships could go higher than the tops of the trees—much higher—but usually, when traveling long distances they stayed relatively low. That didn’t mean they weren’t fast though—certainly much faster than an average person could go on foot sprinting.

The figure flew through the woods, dodging bushes and leaping over fallen logs. The flyer was gaining momentum but still had to maneuver through the thick branches of the forest before it would hit the open air—there would be just enough time.

As it ran the figure reached behind it and drew an ancient-looking weapon of polished ivory. They quickly set a metal barb in a groove on the weapon and hiked back their arm. The flyer had just broken the treeline at the top of the forest and was on the verge of accelerating forward. The figure ran toward a sizeable boulder and jumped into the air, launching themselves as high as they could. They flung their arm forward, and the metal barb flew through the air. There was a thin, flexible rope attached to the end of it which uncoiled rapidly, and just before the flyer accelerated forward, the barb wrapped itself around the edge of one of the wings.

The figure immediately hit the ground and wrapped the other end of the cord around a thick root. The flyer hit the end of the rope and suddenly veered to the left, knocking into some of the higher branches. The figure sprung to the lowest branch and pulled itself up before jumping to another. It only took a few moments before it was level with the flyer. The pilot was struggling with the controls and had just seemed to notice the wing was snagged. There was no one in the glitzer seat, and that’s where the figure leaped.

When it landed, the pilot looked back and yelled something in Yarvan. In a flash of motion, the figure pulled out a blade and red suddenly spurted from the throat of the pilot. As he choked, he let loose the controls, and the flyer began dipping toward the ground. The assassin quickly lunged forward. With one hand it tossed the pilot out of the seat and grabbed ahold of the controls with the other.

There was only a moment to try to direct the ship to a softer, more horizontal landing, and at the last second the figure leaped free. The flyer bounced against a thick tree trunk and landed skittering in the dirt and leaves.

For ten breaths the assassin was completely silent. It listened intently for any commotion over in the meadow. The only sounds it could hear were the final gurgles of the pilot a few yards away. No one in the camp seemed to have heard what had happened.

The figure walked over to the pilot. He was broken in many places and was taking his final, labored breaths. The assassin watched as the gurgling finally stopped, and reached into the breast pocket for the small scroll that Genys had handed him.

The small metal lock mechanism was designed specifically for a circular key type. It was fairly complex, but the figure had it open quickly.

Pyrn, encountered raiders. Small altercation. Five deaths—names included for appropriate military honors. We have regrouped and move toward Ullulia through the pass.

Surprising. Genys had lied. She had acted more level-headed this morning than the figure had thought she would. In fact, this was precisely the sort of message they had intended to write to replace whichever one was originally in the scroll. This one would be perfectly serviceable.

The shadowy figure looked over at the flyer. It would be easy enough to fix. They could get it into the air in under half an hour. The figure then turned and looked at the crumpled remains of the pilot.

He hadn’t had to die after all. He could have delivered this message himself.

Eh. More chaos.