Jerome felt his connection to the vital aura disrupted a moment before his insides felt like they were turning to soup. He groaned loudly in pain. He felt a lot more energetic than he had felt in a while. But the pains he was feeling now were new and strange. He’d never felt anything like it before. It felt like he was being torn to shreds from the inside out.

After a long while, he was able to open his eyes. Blinking, he scanned his environment, noticing he was in a dark room. Footsteps were sounding on wooden floor boards above him, so he guessed he was in some kind of cellar.

Jerome looked around to study his surroundings. Crates of different sizes lay here and there in the dark room and a few needles of light coming from the room above pushed the darkness away in some areas. His feet were shackled to the floor with a pair of iron shackles. With a flick of a finger, Suzie shot out of his finger and lashed onto the shackle, consuming the metal. The steps coming from above stopped a moment before his captor appeared out of thin air in front of him.

Idrel latched onto his throat with a steel-like grip. “What the fuck was that?!” His fury exploded through his aura which engulfed the tiny cellar. It felt like drowning in a sea of hard water.

The man was losing it. Jerome had never seen him so unhinged. He spoke through gnashed teeth with veins bulging in his temple. Idrel’s hand on his neck squeezed hard until the tips of his finger broke his skin.

Jerome tried and failed to extend Suzie. He already knew the living steel wouldn’t respond to him in Idrel’s presence but he couldn’t help but try.

“I…told you—know nothing!” he struggled to respond.

“Fucking whelp!” Idrel roared. “What I would give to have a mind charm right now!” He slammed Jerome to the floor and rushed up the stairs to do whatever the hell he was doing before. “If I could drill into your head to sift through your memories, I wouldn’t give a damn whether you’re Rihal’s precious disciple, I would — and you wouldn’t survive the experience!”

Jerome sat up, groaning. What the hell was a mind charm? Was that something that could be used to read his mind? He had to get out of here. But how? How was he supposed to get away from this madman?

He moved to get up and flinched, expecting to feel pain in his knee but nothing came. The vital aura had done a pretty good job. Jerome sat up straight as realization dawned on him. The vital aura was the reason Idrel had to transport him away from the carriage. It would have drawn unwelcome attention.

He quickly sat down crossed-legged and started reciting his mantra under his breath.

~~~

Rihal

“Got him!” He quickly vanished from the roof he was sitting on and appeared near the carriage Idrel had abandoned in the shadow of an alley.

Guards had blockaded the area around the carriage, preventing anyone from coming near it. They had the carriage driver in custody. The driver would be a dead-end. He’d bet the man would know next to nothing about the person who hired him.

Still fatigued from using the skill he’d used but failed to track down Jerome, there was very little he could do right now. But that didn’t include tracking down Idrel. Rihal activated his Sight and looked into the interior of the carriage. What he saw made his blood boil.

Jerome’s blood was spilled everywhere. He recognized the signature of his disciple’s aura since he’d just spent some time trying to track it down, and the effects of the technique hadn’t worn off completely. He quickly teleported into the carriage. He picked up traces of Idrel’s Void Bridge and vanished once again.

“This is probably going to get me in trouble,” he muttered to himself as he appeared outside a farm miles away from Farryn. As a Spirit Realm expert, he should never have had the ability to track and follow another Spirit Realm expert’s Void Bridge. But that was a problem for later.

No sooner did he appear did vital aura start leaking out of the ground around the farm. His sharp senses picked up the vitality of two people inside a small cottage about a quarter mile away from him — one on the ground floor and the other, underground. And all the vital aura was gravitating toward the sacred artist underground.

Jerome.

The rest of the farm was deserted. Not even livestock could be seen. Idrel had prepared well for any eventuality. He’d do the same if he were in his shoes. Only Rihal was smart enough to know not to start something like this.

With subtle strands of mental energy he whispered in Idrel’s direction to get his attention away from his disciple — not enough for Idrel to know where his voice came from.

“Traitor…”

Idrel flinched and stood up so quickly that the stool he was sitting on, toppled over. Rihal sensed the moment he extended his mental energy to search for the source of the voice. That moment’s distraction was all Rihal needed to get to Jerome. But Idrel wasn’t a Spirit Realm expert for nothing. He quickly teleported as well and Rihal felt him clamp down on Jerome’s shoulder at the same time as him.

“How did you do it?” Idrel asked, even as he squeezed Jerome’s shoulder with enough force to pulverize his disciple’s bone.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“Whatever games you play, Idrel,” Rihal teleported all three of them away from the cellar. His words had been a means of distraction for a short moment, “you won’t succeed.”

They appeared outside the cottage and a battle ensued.

~~~

Jerome had never seen Rihal fight before — as in, really fight. He knew his master was powerful, but damn! He’d miscalculated how powerful! He would have preferred to observe Rihal under better circumstances as right now he was sandwiched between two powerful Spirit Realm artists.

Their movements were a blur of sky and earth to him as he was shoved and pulled this way and that; and their clashes sounded like thunder and earthquakes. Jerome felt the beginnings of the earlier sensation when Idrel first teleported him.

He was spun around and pushed out of the way for a moment only to be brought back into the fight. Idrel’s knife nearly cut into his throat but Rihal’s blade parried it out of the way. They teleported again and Jerome finally couldn’t take it anymore. He sagged to his knees and barfed — or at least that was what it felt like. After getting better, he had stopped eating regularly, so there was nothing to throw up.

The fighting experts didn’t care about him though, so he quickly rolled out of the way, only to find himself in the middle of a market. The sound of traders promoting their wares filled his ears with more confusion.

Jerome raised his head to look up but something hit the ground so hard, he was literally bounced off the earth. Pieces of debris came flying at him and he quickly scrambled out of the way. Idrel was upon him in a split moment, smiling with glee. But Rihal appeared in front of him and shoved him back.

The shockwave that spread from that single clash brought wave after wave of screams and panic from all directions. Jerome stepped behind his master to protect himself. He breathed in but found that the air was filled with very sparse ambient essence. He rotated his core to get his limbs working fine again and observed his master for the first time since Rihal had arrived.

Rihal was putting on a nondescript, black leather cloak that reached down past his knees and had his face covered with the hood. Idrel only noticed where they were when he saw Rihal, and Jerome observed as a cloak materialized around him as well with the hood on — it more or less ‘grew’ around him so to speak. It was a mesmerizing thing to watch.

Jerome remembered his discussion with Rihal about him being an assassin and their behaviors made more sense. They didn’t want to be recognized by the locals here. Which brought up the question; where was here? He turned to get a good look of where they were and marveled at what he saw.

“Rihal?” he whispered. “Where are we?” It was like a town straight out of medieval times.

“We are far, far from home, Jerome… in the south. Far from Farryn and close to Alvric lands,” Rihal whispered back. “This is the town of Nandene.”

Jerome gaped, looking around at the townspeople already packing up their wares and closing up shop. They were dressed differently than the people of Farryn. Where the people in Farryn put on thicker robes, theirs were thinner to allow for more air and comfort. Now that he was focused on something else other than running for his life, he could feel that the air was very warm, warmer than he was used to.

Jerome watched them pack up with practiced ease. It felt like they had done this a few times. He could see the fear in their eyes; they had no one to protect them from the fallout of a fight between two Spirit Realm artists.

“Let’s get out of here, Rihal. These people are afraid,” Jerome said, looking at the ground where something — or maybe someone — had caused a small crater in the middle of the market. The crater was separating both fighters and it was at least fifteen feet in diameter!

“Just…a moment,” Rihal said, trying to catch his breath. He was still in a staring contest with Idrel.

Jerome could hear the fatigue in his voice and from the sound of cackling from the other side, Idrel could sense it too.

“You used it, didn’t you? You know it’s forbidden to use it,” Idrel said. From the look of his stance, Jerome felt like he was just lazing around. But experience told him the man was as ready as ever. Assassins were good at misdirection.

Idrel chuckled again. “Aura tracking is forbidden for a reason, Rihal. You’ve been a naughty boy.”

Rihal stiffened but didn’t reply. Something felt different. The tension in the air felt too strong for just a staring contest. Jerome observed both of them again and wondered why they were just staring at each other. Idrel seemed to catch his observation and spoke up again.

“There’s a reason why you don’t see fights in the city or anywhere else, whelp. We could level entire villages and towns with our battles. It’s against the law to fight in a populated area.”

“My name is Jerome,” Jerome muttered stubbornly. Even though he wasn’t loud, he knew Idrel would hear him.

Idrel acted like he didn’t hear him and went on speaking in that slow manner he spoke with when he first captured him. “That’s why Spirit realm experts fight in a different way. We call it the Battle of Wills. And your master… is losing right now.” He took a step forward and Rihal did the same.

Jerome felt a massive force shove him backward into a stall, destroying the poorly made wooden structure. Thankfully, the traders had all fled with their goods. Jerome unfurled his wings and took to the air away from the fight.

Given that Idrel could teleport to him anytime he wanted, it was better to be safe and alive than to watch a fight he wouldn’t possibly be able to understand the scope of. He looked down to see both experts straining against an invisible force in front of them. They were like two magnets of like poles pushing forward toward each other but repelling each other.

They took another step forward and with a mighty force, the first rows of wooden stalls around them collapsed to the ground. They stomped the ground with another step forward and the row behind the first collapsed. The crater in front of them also widened, with rocks and soil from the edge falling into it.

“Incredible!” Jerome muttered in awe. It was really a battle of wills! He quickly flapped his wings harder to gain altitude before turning around and flying into the distance. Warning bells rang from a distant bell tower but Jerome decided not to stay another moment in the town.

After flying for a while, he looked back once again and relaxed; he was far away from the battle now. Jerome looked up to determine the position of the sun. It was high up in the sky and it would be an hour or more before he could determine where he was and how to get back to Farryn.

He touched down and decided to walk and save his strength. He was already possibly miles away from the little town now and there was nobody around his location. Only overgrown trees and birds. He took his time walking forward until the trees started receding and stomps filled the ground.

A heap of logs came into view after half a mile of running and he could now see a clear footpath. Jerome followed it. Hoping there was a town ahead and people he could ask for directions.

A scream split the air and he instinctively shot forward. What the hell was that?