Pirin kept one half of the disruption collar—the half with the umberstone run on—and tucked it into his belt. He cast aside the other part. “Uh…thank you, sir.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Nomad grumbled. “Get yourself out of here, get those gems, then you can think about thanking me.”

Pirin turned around, cycling his Essence freely again. He faced the door. “Alright…I just need to—”

“I’ve seen your Shattered Palm,” Nomad said. “It could use some work, but with any luck, you’ll smash through the door before the guards arrive.”

Pirin sighed. His channels were already strained, and he figured he had leaked a significant amount of Essence using the Shattered Palm over and over again. But it had been a few hours, and at least his spirit didn’t ache like a pulled muscle anymore.

“That was you using the Shattered Palm, right?” Nomad asked.

“I…sorry, sir, I just thought you’d have disappeared the moment I turned around,” Pirin muttered. “Magically, you know, like how you got in here.”

“Oh, I walked in here. And I’m trapped in here with you, for now. Or, better yet, you’re trapped in here with me. I could find things to talk about—for example, the political climate of North Plainspar, or the fishing conditions in Greatsaad, or maybe even ecosystem recovery in Ískan. I hear charcoal makes a great fertilizer, and they’ve got plenty of that!”

Pirin pressed his lips together, desperately keeping himself from cutting Nomad off. When the man finished, Pirin dipped his head, then said, “Sorry. I’ll get the door open.”

“I knew that would motivate you!” Nomad clicked his tongue again and added, “For a king, you seem awfully squeamish about politics.”

Pirin took a deep breath, letting his Essence flare, then he looked Nomad in the eyes. He started off attempting a Whisper Hitch, and the technique immediately began to destabilize—as planned.

“You know, if you purposely make your breathing pattern erratic after you’ve begun the technique, it should turn the failure more spectacular,” said Nomad. “Since failure is what we’re hoping for in this instance.”

“I thought you weren’t teaching me yet…”

“Oh, don’t worry. Everything you do from here on out is a test—this was a test of how well you could follow instructions.”

Pirin gulped, then let his breaths shudder. The gray orb didn’t even form in the palm of his hand before he felt a spike of pain shoot down his arm. It penetrated right to his bones this time.

He widened his stance and spun around—and just in time. The technique blasted out of his hand. He directed the pulse of manifesting Essence at the door’s lock, but this time, the pulse was big enough (and uncontrollably violent enough) that it knocked the entire door off its hinges.

The door flew across the hallway and clattered against the opposite wall, then fell down with a great bang that made Pirin’s ears ache.

“Whoops,” he muttered.

“Ah, very good!” Nomad said, clapping his hands softly. Already, the other prisoners in the other cells began to stir. A few ran to the bars of their doors to check what was happening.

Pirin walked out of the cell, and Nomad’s footsteps thudded close behind him. The man continued: “Your possessions are in the room at the end of the hallway. I hope you remember the way out.”

“Can I have the…uh, that map, sir?” Pirin asked. “I don’t know the way.”

“No. It’s my map. Get your own.”

“But—”

“The Saltsprays will have more modern, updated maps. You’ll need to find their camp, anyways, because it seems they’ve found the entrance, and they’re guarding it with their lives. So go get your stuff, and get moving.”

Pirin glanced back and forth, looking up and down the hallway to make sure no one had noticed. Down the hallway, the way he came in, clattering armour echoed. The other way, as promised, was a solid wooden door—and there was no doubt a storage room beyond it.

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“Thank you, sir,” said Pirin. He turned around to look at Nomad one last time, but the man was already gone. Not in the cell, not either direction down the hallway. Pirin let out a huff, then muttered, “So now you do that…”

Judging by the speed that Nomad had moved before, and by the man’s reflexes, Pirin didn’t doubt that he’d simply just ran away. It didn’t make it seem any less…advanced.

But there was no time to ponder it. The soldiers’ clatter was still getting closer, and Pirin had to get his stuff. He turned and sprinted to the wooden door. It was locked, but a small Shattered palm was enough to blast a hole in it. He reached through the hole and pulled up the plank of wood that kept it locked.

Two Dominion soldiers sat inside the small room—at a table. As soon as Pirin blasted his way in, they leapt to their feet. He sprinted into the room and punched the first man in the mouth. The man staggered back, and Pirin pulled the man’s sword from its sheath. He was just in time to block the second soldier’s swipe.

The first soldier tried to tackle Pirin, but Pirin stepped to the side and struck the soldier in the back of his head with the pommel of the stolen sword. The soldier skidded across the stone floor and collided with the door, slamming it shut again.

The second soldier hacked and slashed at Pirin. Pirin dodged two swipes and blocked the third, but the soldier was much stronger. Pirin’s elbows bucked. He ducked backwards, letting the tip of the blade swish past his nose, then he kicked the man in the chest.

The man stumbled back a step. He raised his sword, but his grip was loose now. Pirin swatted it out of his hand, then clubbed him in the side of the head with the pommel.

Once the second soldier collapsed, Pirin tossed the stolen sword aside. He turned in a circle, taking stock of the room. There was a table at the center with a candle on it—where the soldiers had emptied out his haversack and had started sorting through its contents.

Pirin scooped all the rations and slips of parchment back into his haversack and picked up his umberstone mask. He didn’t put that back into the haversack; he slid it onto his face. He figured he’d need a Reyad soon enough.

But the sparrow Path Manual wasn’t there. He ran to the far side of the room, where a shelf of confiscated books stood. Grumbling, he ran his finger along their spines. This was wasting time. Every second, the clanking armour of more soldiers grew louder in the hallway outside. They’d notice him soon enough.

Pirin began to cycle his Essence again, warming himself up for another Shattered Palm—probably the last he’d be able to manage today, or he might permanently strain his spirit. He flexed his fingers, trying to ignore the sting.

On the second shelf down, he found his Path Manual. He snatched it up and shoved it into his haversack, then turned to the weapons rack on the adjacent wall. His sword had been heaped on top like it was a piece of junk, and the wooden scabbard rested against the wall beside it. He tied the scabbard back to his belt, but there was no point in sheathing the sword yet.

“Hey! You there!” one of the soldiers shouted. A fist pounded against the small room’s door, but the door only slid an inch inwards—the fallen soldier’s head blocked it.

An ostal’s face dipped down in front of the hole in the door, his two sallow eyes glittering in the candlelight—the low-marshal from before. “You’re surrounded! There are ten of us! Give yourself up!”

The ostal shouldn’t have shown Pirin his eyes.

Pirin turned his breathing pattern choppy, and unleashed the strongest Shattered Palm he could muster. A wave of icy blue Essence blasted into the door, ripping it off its hinges and flinging it down the hallway. It plowed through the low-marshal and three other soldiers, and flung most of the others aside. Pirin shouted in pain and nearly crumpled to his knees. His eyes watered, but he blinked the instinctive tears away.

Only two soldiers remained standing. Pirin sprinted towards them. They swung their swords, but Pirin dodged one and deflected the other. Then, he pushed a soldier into an open cell and slammed the door shut. The other soldier lunged at Pirin, but Pirin intercepted the blade and grabbed the man’s wrist, then redirected him into the wall. His helmet clanged against the stone, and he fell still.

Pirin sprinted away before the rest of the soldiers could get up. He ran down to the end of the hallway, then turned and took a staircase down. Two soldiers with spears ran up in the opposite direction, but Pirin hacked the spearheads off their weapons and pushed them aside. Stopping to finish them off would just waste time.

Retracing his steps as best as he could, he ran back towards the gate of the keep. He didn’t encounter any more conscious—or alive—soldiers, but there were a few collapsed bodies along the way. That was no doubt the doing of Nomad.

As Pirin neared the portcullis, it began to lower. He dove under it, slipping past one of the spikes. Once outside, he rolled to his feet. There were two streets leading to the keep’s entrance. From one direction, a large group of Dominion soldiers sprinted towards him. From the other direction, two mounted riders charged.

Pirin would take his luck with the riders. He ran towards them, flourishing his sword. They reared their horses. Pirin ducked away from the hooves of the first beast, then jumped back just in time to avoid the second rider’s spear.

He grabbed the spear before the rider could pull it back, then tugged the soldier off his horse.

It gave him an opening, and he took it. Slipping between the horses, he increased his pace to a sprint.

This road was smaller, and the buildings constricted as he neared the edge of the enormous sandstone hand. He looked up, peering past the stacked buildings and leaning, crooked eaves. Perched at the tip of one of the sandstone fingers, Gray stood, her head flicking side-to-side. He waved his arms and his sword, trying to catch her attention.

After a few seconds, she leapt off her perch, then circled around, disappearing around the side of the structure.

Pirin neared the edge of the hand. He was only two blocks away, and then he could slip through an alleyway and leap off the edge—if Gray was ready to catch him.

He ducked down behind a stack of barrels. If he was going to coordinate his jump with Gray, he’d need his Reyad…