Moving back to the others with a grim expression, Verdan relayed what he’d seen, and more importantly, what it meant.

“Are you sure?” Sylvie asked, her expression grim as she surveyed the small group they had with them.

“It is the same style, I’m sure of it. Whoever that is down there is either part of the same group or is being supplied by the orchestrator of the troubles we encountered in the north. The man who spoke of a pact with the Gormagyr and commanded the traitors wielded similar artifacts.”

Cullan bristled as Verdan spoke of the Idrisyr’s twisted cousins. “We must deal with this.”

“We don’t know anything of what they’re doing,” the Pathfinder said, holding up a hand as Cullan started to reply. “I’m simply saying that we need more information. What are they doing in that cave and why, for instance.”

“How do you propose we gain that information?” Verdan asked, taking control of the conversation before Cullan could demand an immediate attack. “For that matter, why did you call us out here?”

“We called you here as we could tell there was something strange happening,” Sylvie said before the Pathfinder could answer. Pausing for a moment, she gave a quiet order to Blane, who nodded and hurried off. “I will recall my people in the local area to help deal with this, but there are more of them than I like. The truth is that we can’t know more until we engage with them on some level. Now that the two of you are here, we’ll prepare to do that.”

“A surprise attack would let us deal with the Sorcerers first,” the Pathfinder said, quickly sketching out a simple map in the dirt with the end of her bow. “We could station people here and here, ready for a swift attack. I’d originally wanted you here as backup before contacting them, but with what you’ve said, I think conflict is inevitable.”

“Agreed,” Verdan said heavily. “We can’t risk the caravan by letting them leave. That said, I’d like the chance to talk to them before we attack. There is a chance I’m wrong, and I’d prefer to not add any more innocent blood to my hands.”

“Of course,” the Pathfinder said, sharing a brief look with Sylvie. “You can take the lead, and we’ll support you as best we can.”

“If we can wait, we’ll have more support from the rest of my pack, though,” Sylvie said, gesturing to the rest of the group hidden among the trees. “We’re outnumbered at the moment, and don’t know what surprises they might have waiting for us.”

“Agreed, let’s keep an eye on things for now. If the situation changes, though, we may need to act early.”

Sylvie nodded and gave out some quiet orders, sending her people off into the undergrowth. The Pathfinder did the same with the Kranjir, though they stayed nearby and simply readied their bows.

Carefully moving back to where he could see the odd group, Verdan watched them carefully, trying to get a read on what strengths and capabilities they had.

He recognised three of the four Sects represented by the Sorcerers he could see. The Defiant Flame, the Weeping Death and the Stormlords.

Frowning, Verdan focused on the Stormlord Sorcerer, realising abruptly that he recognised the man. He’d been one of the less vocal Sorcerers with Nathir.

Verdan’s mind raced with the implications as he stared at the Sorcerer, wondering how exactly he’d come to be here. He must have been part of the group that had disappeared, as Verdan hadn’t heard about any other desertions or people going missing.

Verdan frowned as he realised that the chances of them being able to resolve this peacefully were all but nonexistent. Whoever these people were, he doubted they were working to the same goals as the rest of them.

Verdan was tempted to try and take the Sorcerer alive, but as the only spellcaster on their side, he’d need to act decisively. Once the battle started, it would be his job to take out any casters they had, while also protecting his allies.

There was also the woman in charge to consider. The wand she held meant she might also be carrying artifacts that allowed her to cast spells of her own. The man Verdan had fought in the north had been able to create shields and conjure darts of force, but the artifacts he’d used had shattered on his death.

“Wizard,” Sylvie whispered, crawling over next to him and making a subtle gesture toward the cave entrance.

Following her gesture, Verdan watched with astonishment as the people who’d gone inside began to reappear carrying small bundles that were placed into a trio of crates.

“There’s a wagon nearby that they hid,” Sylvie whispered, seeing Verdan’s confusion. “Any idea what all that is?”

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From what Verdan could see of the bundles, they were books, sheafs of paper and small metal objects. That alone was enough to make Verdan suspicious, but when one of them came out holding a broken metal globe, Verdan knew for definite.

“They are plundering an ancient ruin. The cave must link through to somewhere,” Verdan explained as quietly as he could. “We can’t let them take all of this. Nothing good will come of it.”

If it were anyone else, Verdan wouldn’t object quite so much, but he’d seen what these people had tried to do with such knowledge already.

A bird trilled in the distance and Sylvie echoed the sound back before making a different bird call a moment later. Waiting for a moment, she glanced over at Verdan and gave him a nod. “We’re ready to go on your mark.”

Taking a deep breath, Verdan glanced back to see that Cullan had taken the chance to quietly don his scale mail and was kneeling partially behind a tree.

“I’ll be ready,” Cullan said in a quiet rumble, patting the sword he was holding.

Verdan took a last steadying breath before getting slowly to his feet and walking forward from their hiding spot, a shielding spell on his lips.

“Hail the camp!”

The organised activity below came to an abrupt stop as Verdan called out, and all four Sorcerers started as they turned to face him.

“Who are you?” The Defiant Flame Sorcerer shouted, conjuring a spear of flames in on hand. “Identify yourself!”

The unknown and Weeping Death Sorcerer reacted in a similar way, but the Stormlord Sorcerer recognised Verdan immediately and began to slowly back away.

“Stand your ground,” the woman in charge appeared at the mouth of the cave and gave the Stormlord a harsh look before turning to look up at Verdan. “I believe my companion asked you to identify yourself. If you do not do so in the next five seconds, we will treat you as hostile.”

“My name is Verdan Blacke,” Verdan said, carefully making no quick motions. “Indagnium.”

The word was what Staran had called out to begin the attack, and Verdan had long thought there was more to it than that. It had had the ring of a battlecry rather than a code.

From how the woman froze in place when he said it, he had a feeling he was on the right track.

“Impossible,” the Stormlord’s shaky voice rang out in the abrupt silence that followed Verdan’s statement. “He’s the Wizard. He can’t be one of us!”

“Silence, fool!” The woman snapped at the Sorcerer, not turning from Verdan. “I don’t know what you think you know, but do not test me. We have no desire to fight you, but we will defend our interests.”

Verdan’s eyes flicked from the woman to the Sorcerer as he gestured calmly to the crates. “I wish I could believe you, but the last time I met one of your group, he was working alongside the Goramgyr to corrupt an ancient artifact. I can’t let you take those and risk a similar event.”

“Zoisam,” the woman’s eyes narrowed as her hand slowly slipped to a pocket in her robes. “Did you kill him?”

Verdan felt the tension in the air thicken and prepared two spells as he smiled down at her. “I crushed him, like I will crush any Annwae-worshipping scum that I come across.”

The woman snarled and pulled a long wand from her robes, bringing it up to release an empowered dart of Aether aimed at Verdan’s chest.

At the same time, two of the Sorcerers attacked, sending a flaming spear and a dart of poison at him.

“Ast,” Verdan snapped out the Word of power as he conjured a shield of blue Aether to intercept their attacks, even as he pointed his staff at the Defiant Flame Sorcerer. “Grym rew drae.”

Ice crystalised in the air around the Wizard, forming over a dozen thick spikes of ice that shot down at the Sorcerer. Fire leapt out from the man’s hands to form a shield, but it collapsed after the first six spikes, and the rest carried on unimpeded.

Verdan was already turning away as the first Sorcerer fell to the ground. “Grym thanr laif.”

A thick lance of flames roared out this time, overwhelming the defence of the Weeping Death Sorcerer and burning a hole into his chest.

Chaos reigned across the area as the Kranjir popped up and took precise shots at their chosen targets, dropping several of the non-Sorcerers before Verdan had even launched his ice.

At the same time, the Airta were howling and bursting from cover to bring the fight to the enemy in a more visceral manner.

Caught flat-footed by the scale of the attack, the defenders nonetheless rose to the challenge. The guards moved to protect the woman and defend the artifacts while the Stormlord launched a frenzied series of attacks at Verdan.

The fourth Sorcerer, however, joined the guards in resisting the Airta. Stone and earth rose from the ground to form a suit of armour around him, much like the Eternal Wardens would.

Unlike them, however, this Sorcerer’s armour held rocky spikes, and he formed studded rock gauntlets with which to fight.

The Airta would struggle to penetrate that kind of defence, but before Verdan could act, Cullan sprinted past and hurled himself out from the top of the hill.

The Idrisyr crashed down into the forming guards, crushing one of them under him as he hit the ground. A second died a moment later as Cullan’s greatsword swung out in a flat arc that cut through flesh, bone and metal without care.

Crying out in rage, the armoured Sorcerer leapt forwards to punch Cullan, only to get a huge boot to the chest that knocked him out of the air.

The Sorcerer landed ungainly on the floor, and barely got to his feet before Cullan plunged his greatsword down into his chest.

Left out of position and panicked by Cullan’s bloody entrance, the guards were overrun by the Airta and dragged down to be ripped apart.

Blasts of Aether shot out from the woman’s wand again and again as she tried to assist her allies, but Verdan created a domed shield around her, locking her in place.

A caster would find a way to breach it or use their abilities to bypass it, but she relied on whatever power her items provided. That made her predictable.

Catching a blast of lightning with a different shield, Verdan pointed his staff at the Stormlord. “Garreg macha challyn.”

The Stormlord jumped back in alarm, right into the large stone hand that Verdan had conjured from the cave wall. Fingers the size of arms curled around the panicked man, crushing him just enough to keep him prisoner.

“Hefan,” Verdan said softly, stepping off from the top of the hill to walk down invisible steps made of compressed air that formed under his feet.

Ignoring the struggling woman, who was still trying to breach his shielding spell. Verdan fixed the Stormlord with a hard look as the last of the guards were torn apart by the Airta. “Tell me everything you know, or I throw you to the wolves.”