Pirin, Alyus, and Brealtod navigated out through the speakeasy, dodging drunk patrons and servers. A few elves stared at them, including the Aerdian naval officers, but no one tried to intercept them.

Not yet.

When they reached the door, Alyus took the lead. He pushed it open a crack—barely enough for the three of them to fit through.

“Where is your ship?” Pirin asked. “I didn’t see it on the way in.”

“We tied it down out in the woods,” said Alyus. “Moored along the Muilren Road, at a clearing about a mile from here.” He turned around. “That’s your gnatsnapper?”

As soon as Pirin stepped outside, he walked over to Gray and unwound her stirrup from the post he’d tied it around. “No one tried to take you, I hope?” She didn’t make a noise, not even a chirp. Certainly nothing close to a voice.

He sighed, and let his shoulders fall. Even with more Essence, he wasn’t anywhere close to forming a Reyad bond with an animal—no matter that he’d spent years around her. She didn’t even show a little hint of understanding what he was saying.

And it wasn’t just because he was at the Kindling stage. Most wizards formed a Reyad at the Kindling stage.

He ran his hand through Gray’s feathers, then whispered, “It’s alright, it’s alright. Not your fault. It’s mine, but we’ll solve this. These two are going to help us solve it.”

Alyus and Brealtod hadn’t waited for him. They had already started walking across the plaza, toward the distant mouth of the Rootmine cave. Pirin led Gray after them, holding her bridle with his good hand. He jogged a little to catch up.

Halfway across the plaza, though, one of the soldiers turned towards him. “You there. Elf with the hood.” It was one of the soldiers who the red-scarfed man had spoken to.

Pirin froze in place. He cleared his throat, then asked, “Yes?”

“What’s your business in Rootmine, huh?” The soldier walked closer, tapping his spear on the ground with each step. “Not many people in these parts with a gnatsnapper. Even fewer who enter an inn for a few minutes and come back without being even a little tipsy.”

“It’s…an inn, sir. I would never—”

“Don’t try that,” the soldier snapped. “We know exactly what it is.”

Of course they wouldn’t shut it down, even if it was illegal. It’d be too much work, too many questions asked. Despite the decrees from on high, they couldn’t control the drink any more than they could control the seasons.

“We’re travellers, heading east,” Pirin lied. He inhaled, ready to begin a technique, but he stopped himself mid-breath. They were already suspicious of him. “I’m with them.” He pointed at Alyus and Brealtod, who had now stopped.

“And they’re shady, too,” said the soldier. “You two, come here.”

Before the soldier could even lift his spear, Alyus pulled his bow off his shoulder. Without hesitation, he drew an arrow and fired it. The arrow pierced through the soldier’s neck, and the elf toppled unceremoniously to the ground.

The other three soldiers all pointed their spears. Gray squawked angrily.

“That…wasn’t subtle,” Pirin whispered, backing away from the other soldiers until he stood side-by-side with Alyus and Brealtod. He drew his sword. “Soon, they’ll have the entire city after us…”

“He wasn’t gonna let us leave, and you know it,” Alyus grumbled, and Brealtod hissed in agreement. “Price of doing business in a city.” The soldiers approached cautiously, carrying their spears in front of them. Two of them held leaf-shaped ambersteel shields.

“We could run,” Pirin whispered. Elven soldiers were better trained and stronger than gobbarts; they wouldn’t go down as easily. Not that the gobbarts were all that easy in the first place.

“Wonderful, just wonderful.” Alyus prepared another arrow.

Pirin drew his sword, just in case. He said, “Gray and I will lead them away. If they see what the ship looks like, they’ll try to track us.”

“It’s definitely a plan. Take a step to the left.”

The moment Pirin stepped to the side, Alyus released his next arrow. It flew straight, but the elven soldier was ready. He raised his shield in front of his throat, protecting his exposed flesh. The arrow glanced off.

“Stand down! Weapons on the ground!” one of the soldiers ordered. “That goes for the dragonfolk, too. Hammer down! Not a single claw on the haft!”

“Alright, your plan is sounding a touch better, now.” Alyus pulled his bow back over his shoulder. He didn’t even glance at the approaching soldier.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“Muilret road, right?” Pirin whispered. “I’ll meet you—”

“Muilren,” Alyus corrected. “I better get the rest of that silver, elfy. Don’t go getting yourself caught.”

Pirin nodded. “Go.” The moment Alyus and Brealtod turned away, Pirin met the gazes of the three soldiers. They didn’t move to intercept the two smugglers. “So…I’m the more important one, yeah?” He glanced at Gray. “Having the gnatsnapper with me didn’t do any favours, did it…?”

The soldiers didn’t say anything, nor did Gray.

“By the way, there’re smugglers in that speakeasy.” Pirin tilted his head towards the supposed inn they had just left. “I’m…uh, I’m going that way.” He pointed down one of the many walkways connecting to the plaza. It led towards the cave wall. A few more unarmed elves in plain clothing had gathered near the edge of the plaza, watching the commotion.

The soldiers didn’t respond to anything he said. For a moment, he considered running in the opposite direction from where he had pointed, but he figured it would surprise them more if he did run where he’d said he would.

“Gray,” he hissed.

The gnatsnapper knew her own name, at least. Her head flicked toward him.

The moment he had her attention, he sprinted across the plaza, around the base of one of the chains that kept the platform suspended, and toward the walkway.

The nearest soldier rushed toward him. When the elf’s spear swept towards his head, his instinct told him to deflect the spearhead upwards. He hesitated for a split-second, then let his arm respond to the instinct. Instead of pushing the spearhead up, though, he cut straight through the wooden shaft with his sword. The ambersteel spearhead tumbled off.

The soldier cast his useless spear aside and moved to tackle. He charged, arms outstretched. Pirin ducked, tucking his chin. The soldier’s arms passed over top of him. Spinning out of the way, Pirin rose back to his full height. Before the soldier could attack again, Gray pounced on him. He landed hard on his back. Not dead, but it’d slow him down.

It didn’t slow down the others.

Pirin and Gray darted onto the walkway, pushing through the crowd. Most of them parted when they saw Pirin’s sword, but not all of them. Some, he had to turn his shoulder towards (his good shoulder) and shove them aside.

The path led them to the edge of the cave, where roots hung at eye level, and ambersteel crystals dangled even lower. He ducked under what he could and turned sideways to fit around what he couldn’t. Gray barely fit down the path behind him.

Here, the buildings were simple, one-storey mining shacks. Elves peered out the glowing windows, watching Pirin and Gray run past.

And the soldier didn’t just come from behind. Another Aerdian soldier jumped onto the path in front of them, brandishing an ambersteel sword. He swung it at Pirin.

Pirin stepped to the side, dodging the two-foot blade of straight, translucent steel. It bit into the railing. Pirin trapped it with his own sword, then kicked the Aerdian. He tried to push the elf over, but the blow wasn’t strong enough—or, Pirin wasn’t strong enough.

Before the elf could dislodge his blade, Pirin cycled his essence as fast as he could, conjuring a technique and pushing it until it hurt, and pushing a little more after that. It wanted to fade, but he didn’t let it. As soon as his fingers began to spark, he drove it into the soldier’s chest. A pulse of Essence blasted out his hand, flinging the soldier along the walkway. The soldier’s armour smoked.

There was no time to slow down. The other soldiers behind were catching up.

Pirin and Gray followed the path. They didn’t wear heavy armour, and though they had to duck and dodge around the amber-laden roots, they could sprint faster than the soldiers.

The walkway began curving back toward the mouth of the cave. They could just run outside, onto the roads, and find the airship. Alyus and Brealtod would have the vessel ready, and they could take off. They—

The walkway ahead of Pirin thudded and shook. At first, he only saw the silhouette of a man—black against slightly less black. A black coat, black hair, black pants. And a single red glove.

The man’s gloved hand shot across his body, a crimson blur. He reached for his sword and ripped it free, then pointed it at Pirin.

Calmly, the man said, “An elf with a gnatsnapper. You wouldn’t happen to be…”

The man swung his sword. Pirin held out his own blade to block it, but he was barely fast enough. Certainly not strong enough. The force of the blow pushed Pirin’s sword down to the ground.

The man swiped again. Pirin stumbled back to avoid the swing, falling against Gray’s chest. His hood fell off his head.

“...the elf with black hair,” the man finished. “You made this quite easy.”

They would see about that. Pirin jumped back to his feet. Behind him, Gray squawked and scratched the boards with her talons. The soldiers behind them stopped, lowering their spears and blocking the path.

The man swung his sword again. It split the air. A gust of wind rushed past Pirin’s face. Pirin slipped to the side just in time, barely keeping his balance. Before he could counter-attack, the man swung upward again.

The blow came hard and fast. It knocked Pirin’s sword out of his hand and made his elbow twang with pain.

Pirin took a step backwards, and he bumped into Gray. She still nattered and squawked, but there was no room on the walkway for her to stand at his side. The soldiers behind kept her in place with their spears.

Pirin held out his hand. He locked eyes with the man. Dark, brown eyes. He was a man, a normal man—not an elf or ostal or anything else. That was supposed to make it easier. Men weren’t as strong.

This man, however, only scowled. “Ah, yes. Try away. No matter what boost of Essence you’ve gotten for yourself, it won’t be enough. You think you can see into my mind, let alone mess with it?”

“I…”

Pirin changed tactics. He fully expected his magic to backfire on the first try. He pushed the technique just to the point of breaking, then thrust his hand at the man.

Before his stroke landed, the man pushed Pirin’s hand upwards. Sparks exploded out into the empty air, and the shockwave of Essence blasted through one of the roots over the man’s shoulder.

“Shattered Palm, it is,” said the man. “Just about the only technique you Embercores are good for. Better than I expected, but impotent nonetheless.” He threw Pirin’s arm down with disgust, then pushed him back into Gray’s wall of feathers.

“Now, Embercore, are you ready to die?”