Light flutes echoed in the valley as we flew, drifting down as softly as the snow.

It wasn’t an evil sound, like the rip of horns or the banging of drums, but a deceptively cheerful noise. If it wasn’t for the fact that it was a mounted vanguard that carried them, I probably would’ve even liked to listen.

Breale and I shared an expandable telescope in the back while Fredrick drifted us across the ice and snow at a blistering pace. Far behind us, I could faintly make out movement in the mist. A flag was raised above them, a muted blue star over a white field. In the top left corner, an image of a silver spear upon a black field was painted on top.

“That’s quite a peculiar flag.” I passed the telescope to Breale. “Do you know whose it is?”

Every noble in Verol had their own flag, or ‘device’ as the others called it, though not all of them were allowed to freely wave them in public. That right was afforded only to the major ducal families and Summark. The minor nobles were instead required to use the flag of their ducal lord with their own device pasted in the top left corner. Gideon told me that it was to easily see the chain of command in battle, but I was just as sure that it was a matter of prestige for the major dukes too.

“Count Reanier, maybe?” Breale said after a second. “Definitely from the capital duchy.”

“What does it look like?” Fredrick called back. “Reanier has a yellow diagonal cross upon blue.”

“Not Reanier, then.” Breale muttered, and then louder she cried: “What’s a silver spear on black?”

Fredrick was silent for a few seconds.

“Don’t think it's a count. It might be a baron’s.”

“Damnit.” Breale cursed.

I looked between them, but found neither to be paying attention.

“Why is that bad? Doesn’t that mean they’re ill-equipped or something?”

Baron was one of the lower ranks after all, so they probably had less resources to throw at a military than the higher nobility.

“The opposite.” Breale slumped against the wagon wall with a sigh. “Baronies under the Duchy of Verol aren’t hereditary. They’re returned to the king upon death of their title-holder and then regranted based on military achievement. It’s the only duchy like that.”

Ah, so the king had glory hunting built directly into his personal realm. Great. Though I couldn’t help but wonder how well military success translated into good governance.

“So they won’t let up, will they?”

“Not likely. He’s probably aiming for a nice county or something.” Breale said. “He probably thinks we have Andril with us.”

Frederick cursed again, his blue cloak rippling in the wind.

“An opportunistic peasant-noble, just our luck!”

Verol was a feudal military in most respects. Upon the standard call to campaign, individual lords would raise up their retinues and militias and march to join their ducal hosts. These would then join together in armies, with the dukes and counts themselves serving as military commanders. This gave a definite cap on promotion, mostly being based on how many troops you could raise for a realm’s army and how high your social rank was.

According to Veroline romance novels, however, exceptional deeds or skill could still bring an aspiring knight into the starlight. For various reasons, lords would sometimes appoint a knight in their place to lead a force in their steed. According to the others, whoever was chasing us was probably one of these knights who had risen to lordship.

There was probably less heartbreak and love triangles in his story though.

“Will we get away?”

“Veroline colgs aren’t as fast as you’d think.” Breale said. “But then again, ours aren’t exactly burgund breeds either.”

And ours are pulling a wagon. Gideon said. And about to collapse from exhaustion.

“How long then?”

“Maybe until night. Morning if we’re lucky.” Breale said.

Only a few hours… That wasn’t long at all. We might not even make it through the pass, depending on the weather.

I slumped back as I took in our immediate demise. All this effort couldn’t have been worthless, could it? We’d been travelling for over a week at this point, so it was pretty depressing to see all that effort turn into this. It was almost as bad as being captured had been, but with the crippling feeling of seeing it ahead of myself.

“Should we hide?” I asked. “We might be able to slip to the side and wait until they pass.”

I was optimistic for a second, but Fredrick shook his head.

“We’d be between the vanguard and the main group then. And this pass isn’t that wide.”

“They’ve definitely seen us too.” Breale added.

“Then are we just screwed?”

We can’t run, we can’t hide, and we definitely weren't in any position to take more than a couple of scouts on.

“Of course not!” Breale jumped to her feet and drew her blade. She stepped out onto the back bench, holding onto the wagon’s frame with one hand as she leaned out. Snow flurries whipped around her braid in the wind, and I could see excitement in her eyes. “We’ll fight! I’ve always wanted an opportunity to have a proper duel with the cavalry. I can finally see if their supposed superiority is warranted.”

“Fight them?” I stared at as if she were insane, which she was. “We’d be better off stopping and hoping they’re looking for Andril instead! There’s no reason to escalate it immediately.”

Fighting them was basically flagging us for execution, of course. If we simply acted like typical travellers, we were sure to just be questioned and released. Given that there wasn’t actually a death order on our head. I certainly couldn’t fight, that’d been made entirely too clear over the last month.

The twins shook their heads simultaneously.

“It’s a little late for that.” Fredrick called back.

“We’ve been ignoring their summons for the better part of three hours.” Breale admitted.

“What?!”

The flute call. Gideon explained. They’ve been blowing the equivalent of a police siren ever since we crossed into the pass.

I closed my eyes and sighed. The wagon shook as we passed over another pothole.

Of course.

“We’ll speed for the narrows.” Fredrick called. “Ambush them from behind those rocks. In all probability they are a small patrol.”

“Better make it fast then!” Breale said. “They can only get closer.”

There had to be a better way than that, right? Fredrick and Breale were trained, but I couldn’t see them winning out if we were outnumbered even a little bit.

I set my sights upon the narrow rocks far up ahead. They looked unstable and precipitous, as if one stiff breeze could knock the whole of the mountain over.

Maybe there was a better way.

…

“I haven’t heard the flutes for hours now.” Breale commented.

“Maybe they peeled off?” I said hopefully.

“Hopefully not.” Breale fingered her sword sheath, way too eager for fighting to start.

Night had fallen an hour ago, but none of us had felt too compelled to sleep, too paranoid or excited to try. We’d gone through a couple rotations for the helm already, and both Breale and I sat on the front bench while Gideon and Fredrick looked out the back. The colgs were completely exhausted, so we had slowed from our trot to a stroll, something which caused me no end of worry despite the twin’s assurances that our foes would have to do the same in the dark. Apparently, while colgs had excellent night vision, their riders didn’t, and galloping through the night was a surefire way to get lost.

It did surprise me to learn that they hadn’t invented any night vision spells or enhancements, which felt like a weird deficiency in comparison to Earth’s own magic. I’d just assumed that fire was a little too close to light to not have something like that, but they assured me that the most similar spell they had acted something like a flare.

“I have to wonder how you can be so eager to fight.” I yawned, already regretting giving up the offer for a nap. “Especially against people with magic.”

“We have shields.” Breale said quickly.

“Yeah, you two do.” I said. “I’m wide open here.”

I was sorely aware of the fact that I didn’t have one of those battle masks everyone seemed to wear. In fact, the twins even had full sets of armour to use, even if it didn’t include a helmet, while I had nothing but a cute face to protect me from disembowelment. Or being blown up.

Really, any sort of combat encounter with actual humans seemed liable to begin with me instantly dying, which was not a good thought to have.

Instinctively, I raised my hand to feel over the glass tiara on the back of my head. It was still smooth to the touch, and the reassuring feeling flooded over me again until I felt right as rain. The feather still stuck weightlessly into the air above my right ear.

Could it be that this had some kind of shield? I hadn’t found any other effect over the last few days, so it was certainly possible. It couldn’t just look cute, right? After all the trouble I had sleeping with it glued to my skull, I could only hope that it had some neat effect that’d suddenly reveal itself in my hour of need.

Breale shivered as another gust of wind blew past the wagon. The doors rattled and shook.

“And I don’t understand how you can stand this dreadful cold.” Breale complained. “Or even more surprising, how you haven’t lost a hand to frostbite yet.”

“It’s the white hair.” I said quickly. “Complete immunity.”

“Colgshit.”

“Maybe you’re just a baby?” I chuckled to myself. “This feels like a nice night.”

“You literally have snow on you.” Breale deadpanned. “You’re lying out your teeth.”

The best part was that I wasn’t lying either: it really wasn’t cold for me here, not even with the snow. I hadn’t really tested it too much back on Earth, but once I’d melded with the ice element fully even standing in ice water didn’t affect me too much. Of course, I couldn’t tell Breale about the actual reason being my magic affinity, but I wasn’t about to start falsely shivering and moaning for the effect either.

“I’m telling you, it’s just the Summa-”

The sharp, piercing scream of a flute shot through the air, cutting off whatever I’d been about to say. It was infinitely louder than I had ever imagined before, and a dreadful fear settled upon my heart as I realised what it meant.

I flung my head around as our colgs broke into a gallop, only catching the riders out of the corner of my eye as they landed around us. Four of them landed in a speeding gallop behind the wagon, clad in faded blue cloaks and armed with lances. Their faces were unreadable, only their mouths visible from beneath beaks of wood and metal. The farthest carried a long silver flute in his hands from which screamed a whining siren.

Oh god, they fly now? I thought colgs could only glide! And in the middle of the night as well?

“Settle your wheels!” cried the closest rider to my left. “In the name of King Esilend, King of the Lmeri and Duke of Verol, stop and be searched!”

So they didn’t go right to the ‘murder’ part, huh? That was more surprising than it should’ve been.

“We have crossed into the domain of Lord Belven, the Duke of Minua!” Fredrick called from the back bench. “By the Writ of Free Congress, you have no right to stop us!”

I had a feeling that yelling something like that was akin to telling an officer that you were a ‘sovereign citizen’, but there really wasn’t much else we could do to convince them to leave us alone.

My suspicions were confirmed as the lance tips began glowing with a deep red.

“Pull over! Under the authorization of King Esiland, we are permitted deadly force!”

“And you’ve ignored our summons all day!” I heard another one shout. “Pitching irritating, you lot! It’s not easy to play this!”

Breale grinned.

“I’ve been waiting for this all day.” She jumped up and into the back of the wagon with sword in hand. “Why don’t you just try! You’ll bite the blades of Cice!”

They needed no more provocation. The flute cut out as suddenly as it had begun, only to be replaced by the sound of galloping hooves. I returned my eyes to the road ahead of me as I snapped our own colgs into a sprint.

Ahead of us, I could barely see the dark silhouette of the narrows against the sky. The wagon shook and trembled as we skated over the snow covered cobbles, feeling more like a mechanical bull than a wooden cart. Behind me, I could hear the impacts and sizzles as spear met blade and drake breathed ice. Shouts rung out around me, grunts and birdlike howls joining with the singing of the blades.

Thankfully, our own colgs seemed to have abandoned their exhaustion and replaced it with a reckless well of energy. It was an astounding thing too, for they’d been running, walking, and pulling for the better part of a fortnight now. They were more reliable than a bloody car, too, fully cementing their mythical status in my mind.

Ahead of us, the road narrowed to just a couple wagons wide as we rode over the rocks of the pass. The ground to my right steadily fell away to reveal a small trench alongside the path, while the jagged rocks to the left became steeper and steeper. Though it wasn’t a deep trench, soon enough it felt like we were chasing along high cliff roads, and the rattling of our wheels as they bumped over small rocks and cracks made it treacherous to stand.

“For the Prince!” Breale cried.

A wait and the yelps of a colg spun off behind me as Breale apparently hit true, and cries of ‘bastard!’ and other such pleasantries came back in response.

Wait a second, how the hell were we even hitting them? Weren’t they armed with spears and magic? There was no reason we weren’t a sprinting fireball right now.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

I glanced behind me as we came along a straighter path, only to be amazed as I watched Fredrick grappling with a spear from the closest rider as they tried to shank each other. Even as I watched, a spectacular light burst forth from the tip of the lance to fizzle out inches away from Fredrick’s face. To his right, I saw another one of those spells I was beginning to affectionately call ‘the tank shell’ launch straight towards me, but it only crossed half the distance before Breale’s sword lashed out to meet it in mid air.

I reflexively cringed as it did so, but to my amazement I only saw the projectile dispel and fizzle into nothing instead of the violent explosion I had imagined would occur.

Ah, so counterspelling was much more developed here than it was on Earth, huh? I couldn’t imagine boldly standing in front of such a missile like that in my hero days, not if I had wanted to live through it.

I continued to watch as the remaining three colg riders charged and stabbed as they tried again and again to set fire to the cart or to wound one of us while our side fended them back with bursts of rimefire and clever swordplay. Thankfully, the narrow road played to our strength here, and they couldn’t simply gallop around us to get at the wagon’s side or me.

The wagon lurched a good half metre into the air as we ran over a rock, and the other two fell to their knees.

“Look at the pitching road!” Fredrick shouted, sporting a brand new cut across his forearm.

“Sorry!”

I whipped back around, trying to ignore the shouts and cries of pain that echoed behind me. There wasn’t anything I could do for us now except make sure we didn’t crash, and that was exactly what I was going to do.

I led us around a sharp bend, praying for the best as the cart leaned dangerously towards the trench. Our wheels set down with a heavy ‘thump’, drawing a few more shouts from behind, but I paid them no mind.

Ahead of us, I could see a vast slope of white and blue spreading out before us. Several hundred metres ahead of us, the steep walls of the pass gave way to boreal valley and moonlit lake. The duchy of Minua lay ahead, and the glittering shores of the Arguin stretched into eternity to the east, a perfect setting moon and the far off ranges of Brionin’s Wall reflected in her waters. An ocean of mist ran down the slopes with us, flowing like rivers of cloud between the whitewood trees and dissipating as it reached the warm water many miles below. Along the far eastern horizon, I could faintly see the coalescing orange beams of the rising sun as it started its long ascent into a rare cloudless Veroline sky.

“We’re almost there!” I shouted back, my voice still full of awe at the sight.

“Silst! Make read- shit!” Fredrick cried between the ringing of swords, his voice clipped by the din of combat.

I urged the colgs forward with all they had, spurring them as the scent of smoke filled my nostrils. Behind me, I heard a quick round of cheers as the sound of shattering glass accompanied Breale’s cry of pain. Assured of the path for yet a few seconds, I glanced back to find that hell was quickly overcoming the cabin.

The cart was on fire. A fountain of smoke belched into the sky as the back boxes of rations raged in flames, newly lit by wayward spells. Breale lay upon the ground clutching her right arm while Fredrick remained busy duelling the closest cavalryman. Even Gideon was wholly occupied with the farthest rider behind, clawing into the man’s breastplate as he poured a seemingly endless stream of rimefire into the panicking man’s shielded mask.

A weaker mind might’ve given up right there upon seeing the sight, overwhelming by the cacophony of sounds and the terror of flames, but I simply calculated, numb to such feelings by now. Worse horrors I’d seen under the church, stranger things in the forest, and more exciting back on Earth. In the screaming hellfire of the burning cabin, I could only think of what to do next.

I swung my legs over the bench into the cabin, drawing forth my hands into a casting position as I did so. The channelling mantras I’d used for years back on Earth flew through my mind, and I carefully chose the smallest amounts of rin I thought could help into my casting box.

“Spatal! Spatal! Spatal!”

Three small streams of snow shot forth, sizzling as they smothered the flames in tiny lumps of white. Having chosen perhaps too carefully this time in an effort to not get cast myself into uselessness, I then leaped forward with the closest blanket to beat out the remaining smouldering embers and sparking flames.

“Saps?”

I ignored Breale’s incredulous expression as I kneeled down next to her and pushed her chainmail above her injured arm. A deep purple bruise blossomed over the whole length, and her face twisted in pain as I softly felt it.

Broken. I’d seen the same thing on my own arm countless times to know what had happened, but I didn’t have the same healing magic here to deal with it. That was better than the alternative if she hadn’t had the armour on, but she probably wouldn’t be of any more use to us here.

“Bre’s out!” I quickly shouted.

I looked back towards Fredrick, only to dive to the floor to narrowly avoid the tank shell that was tossed towards me. It barreled out the other end, slamming into the rocks ahead with a visually impressive blast. Behind the wagon, the man simply readjusted towards the cabin bed and started casting another, only for Gideon to jump onto his back.

“Take over!” Fredrick cried back.

One of the difficulties of communicating in combat was that you really didn’t have time to say anything unless you could say it quickly. Though games and movies often implied differently, there really wasn’t time to explain some complicated plan or monologue. If we had been any less prepared, I would have had no idea what Fredrick was even talking about with that.

But fortunately, we actually did have a plan for this.

I grabbed Breale’s sword and hefted it with me as I vaulted back onto the bench. Out in front, the narrowest part of the pass approached us, getting ever closer with every second. Trusting in the colgs to keep us from going into a wall, I shakily got to my feet on top of the bench and readied the sword above my head. Ahead, a tall stack of rocks four times the size of the cart marked the rightmost pillar of the pass while the steep cliff had the left to form a sort of doorway into Minua. And between those two pillars, a metal-laced rope was strung across just above the height of the cart.

We had actually arrived at the narrows over two hours ago, you see, and had come up with a rather good plan after surveying the rocks above the doorway to Minua. Or rather, I had come up with a rather good plan and taken over fifteen minutes to convince the others of it. The rest of the time had been spent backtracking to finish the trick.

As we passed under the portal, I swung the sword over my head, the thankfully-activated enchantment on it cleaving through the thick cord like it was butter.

A loud snapping noise cracked through the air, and a rock fell into the trench on our right. Then, stones greased by rime and ice up above thundered down into the pass behind, each one tied to another with cord and rope sourced from our stores. The earth shook and cracked around us, and thick clouds of dust mingled with the smoke and mist in the air to blind and choke us. Screams of fear and birdlike chirps of panic could only barely be heard over the rumbling tide of earth and stone.

I yelped in pain and fell down to the bench as shards of rock and slivers of stone bore down on the wagon, the landslide much larger than I had originally intended. Jagged cuts materialised on my clothes and skin and my mouth filled with dirt and dust. But still our wagon surged forward, our colgs driven into a frenzy by the noise.

And then, just as suddenly as it had started, the earth calmed. Our wagon slowed to a stop, our colgs falling to the ground to succumb to their overwhelming exhaustion as small trickles of rock clattered down on the ground all around us. I simply lay there for a few more moments, listening to the groans and cries of pain that mixed into the air as I struggled to stop from doing the same.

“Check?” I called out. “Silst? Fredrick? Breale?”

Coughing broke out in the cabin, and a small voice called back.

“We’re all right… I think.”

Me too. Somehow.

I struggled to lift myself over the bench, laying my head across on the portal to peer in. Inside, I could see both the Mavericks leaning against the scorched walls. Fredrick stared out the back at the huge mound of rock that had replaced the open pass. It was obvious now that the ‘High Road’ wouldn’t be open again until a work crew could be sent out to clear the landslide. The mound of earth was now as large as the surrounding cliffs, a much larger barrier than we’d anticipated.

Gideon floated down to land beside Fredrick.

It looks like the baron’s company will have to take the long way around if they don’t wanna clear this up. We’ve probably bought Andril another week.

I simply nodded, not quite understanding how the ten or so rocks we’d tied together had escalated into something so huge. Had it already been ready to fall, and we’d just helped it? Or had we just attacked somewhere important? We’d probably never know.

“I didn’t know you could use magic.”

All of us looked towards Breale, who somehow managed to look both excited and in heavy pain at the same time. Blood streaked down from her forearms and legs, though none of the wounds looked very deep, and scorchs were branded up and down her arm from where their magical attacks had managed to get through after her shield broke. Her mask lay in two pieces on top of her breasts, split cleanly down the middle.

“Guess the secret’s out.” I said with a small smile.

“More importantly, was that snow?” Fredrick stared daggers at me from across the cabin, though he didn’t look like he much wanted to get up. “How long have you been able to do that?”

Both Gideon and I stared at him for a few seconds before I realised what he was asking.

He’d only seen me cast that banishment spell, hasn’t he? That one didn’t even use the caster’s element too much, so it probably hadn’t been obvious that I casted with the cold instead. I mean, why would he have skipped to any other conclusion?

“You really are the White Witch then.” Breale began to chuckle before a cough took over. “Amazing.”

“I’d suspected… then you really were breaking into the library that night.” Fredrick accused. “Why did you keep that secr-”

“Can we do this later?” I interrupted. “I haven’t slept for a good day, and I’m really not in the mood.”

All this running around had been more than a little exhausting, and coupled with this body I could almost feel myself passing out where I laid.

“What? No, you’re going to-”

A piercing screech broke through the air far above us, and all thoughts of sleep immediately left my body. The other three stirred as well, and all of us peeked our heads out to look skyward.

Above, a rider upon wings of fire approached.

“By the Star…” Fredrick said, vocalising my first thought.

“And we’re screwed.” Breale said, vocalising my second.

The phoenix landed in front of the wagon upon the road down. By now the sun was properly rising in front of us, and the oranges and yellows were clearly reflected upon the surface of the Arguin. It was clear to me now why the body of water was called ‘the mirrored lake’, but I couldn't find it in me to wonder too much about old names.

The rider who sat upon the great beast was garbed in familiar armour, that of the Knights of Esilmor. He wore a great winged helm over his head composed of a strange magical metal that glowed with orange. An orange and white tabard was draped over maile and leather, and his boots were armoured with iron and silver. In his left hand, he held a short sword of shining silver, and in his right a spear topped with glimmering orange. Mana floated around his head, and he looked invigorated in the sunlight.

An archmage of Erithine, a Knight of Esilmor. Gideon said, an all-too-obvious awe in his thoughts.

Fredrick clambered over the sil beside and jumped to the ground, lowering the bird-like mask over his face as he did so. Not knowing what else to do and not wanting the wounded and defenceless Breale to get annihilated with magic, I grabbed her sword and did the same.

The knight gracefully dismounted from the phoenix, swinging his weapons around to face diagonally towards the ground below. To my side, Fredrick gripped his weapon in both hands and lowered it in front of him.

“We don’t wish to fight.” Fredrick tried. “We both serve House Evandal and Verol.”

The knight didn’t respond as he slowly walked over, each step carefully placed in front of the other.

“Saphry, get back.” Fredrick whispered. “If I fall, just surrender. There’s no use in dying.”

“I could say the same to you.” I whispered back.

“You’ll just burn. Get back.”

“He wouldn’t do something like that.” I said, dread growing in my heart as he approached. “He’s a Knight of Verol, he can’t kill me.”

I wasn’t sure how true that statement was, but seeing as he hadn’t just nuked us from the air I had a good hunch that it had some element of truth to it. He probably wanted to capture us for the king, and burning us to a crisp didn’t strike me as too entirely honourable for a knight.

Fredrick didn’t argue further, and I hefted the blade over my shoulder beside him, though I was careful to not let the actual blade touch me. I had a feeling the mediaeval technique of half swording would be deadly with what acted like a lightsaber as your sword.

The two of us made the first move as he got within a few metres. Fredrick charged forward, and I followed. The knight’s weapons moved at the same time, forcing both of us back simultaneously. Fredrick only bared managed to block the spear that snaked out, and I was thrown to the side with a new gash in my arm.

I yelped as I fell to the ground, blood already streaking down my left arm.

Wait the hell? I’d barely seen that strike! He’d practically just lifted his arm and cast me aside!

It hadn’t quite been instant, but it was almost like I had been working with a quarter of the frames that he was. It was clearly cheating.

The knight continued to walk towards Fredrick, forcing him back with every step. The ‘Butcher’s Blade’ could only manage to stave off the knight’s blows with all of the noble’s effort, but the knight looked like was barely exerting himself. And then, after around ten or twelve steps forward, the knight’s spear shot forward to strike at Fredrick’s face. For a half second I despaired, only for the spear tip to slide off of the glasslike mana that appeared in front of Fredrick’s head.

The knight looked to be stunned for a moment, and Fredrick took that time to slide to his right and slash at the knight’s neck. At the same time, I raised my good arm towards him.

“Spatal!”

“Cice!”

A ball of compacted snow and a blade that could cut anything soared towards the knight, flying with a desperate hope.

Almost in slow motion, silver flashed through the air around the knight. His sword teleported next to Fredrick’s, catching the blade and flinging it through the air, while at the same time his head was turned towards me. Somehow, I could see him interacting with the mana flows of my snowball, manually unravelling the threads and mana flows with a practised ease that I couldn’t imagine ever being able to obtain. The snowball slowed and shrunk as he did so until it had disappeared into nothing.

I gaped as he continued, whipping his spear around to bat Fredrick away before he had even landed from his jump, his spear shaft impacting Fredrick’s abdomen with a sickening crack. My friend landed over in the white grass near me, thudding facedown into the snow.

This… this wasn’t a man, but a monster.

He hadn’t just cast a counterspell or shielded my attack like the Maverick’s had been doing, but actually unravelled it. He had manually torn apart the spell in the second it took to fly towards him, and he had done that while also beating down a trained swordsman without looking. This man was not just a master of arms, but truly an archmage of the highest level. A god amongst men.

And that was complete bullshit.

“You goddamn cheater.” I said between grunts of pain. “Have you ever heard of specialisation?”

“You have not practised.” The knight’s voice was distorted through the helmet, but I could tell he sounded disappointed.

What did that even mean? Practised what, magic? Did the ‘White Witch’ have a better myth than I’d thought?

“[Fuck] you.”

Well, not everything I said could be genius.

He didn’t respond to that as he sheathed his sword. Then he reached down and grabbed me from around the waist, lifting me as if I weighed no more than a gallon of milk and hoisting me over his shoulder. I cried out in pain as he did so, the gash in my arm combining with all the small chips and cuts from the landslide to become something increasingly unbearable as he walked towards the phoenix.

I could only really apologise for Saphry for all this. She was never going to get mixed up in a thing like this, not until I messed things up. She could only watch as I took the reins of her life and shoved them into the dirt.

We moved past the wagon, where Breale and Gideon probably were. The least I could be thankful for was that they would be safe. I wasn’t sure that I could forgive myself otherwise.

I frowned through the pain.

Wait a minute, where had Gideon gone? Why hadn’t he helped in that fight? He couldn’t have just abandoned me, right? There was no way! He was many things, but Gideon wasn’t a coward.

As I wondered, a strange electricity entered the air.

My hairs stood on end, and my ears popped. Around us, I heard the uneasy squawks of our colgs, and I saw even Fredrick weakly lift his head as a thick fog began to descend out of the hills. In mere moments what had been a perfectly clear day had changed into something not unlike a typical morning in the capital. Even the glowing firebird just five metres away could be barely seen through the murk.

The smell of ozone filled the air.

“What’s there?” The knight extended his spear again while the arm clutching me grew tighter. “By the magic of the Deeps, show yourself!”

Out of the mists by the landslide, a single blue lantern light bobbed into view. The knight immediately stiffened and averted his gaze, dropping me in the process. The wind was knocked out of me as I hit the ground, and I couldn’t help but look out towards the light.

The blue light grew stronger in the mist, and bright flashes of blue began to arc through the clouds around. My throat grew stiff, and I felt my every bone scream to run.

“Of all the wards I don’t have…” The knight knelt down, feeling around until his gauntlet brushed over my arm. “We have to-”

I cried out in pain as he began to lift me again, and almost immediately a horrible roar ripped through the fog.

It sounded like an airliner was crashing through the field, and I couldn’t help but try to cover my ears. A wave of wind came soon after, colliding with the knight and forcing him to his knees.

More cursing followed as he raised his spear above him, a golden fire erupting around us as he summoned forth a gale of fire. My skin sizzled in the heat, and I coughed as the smoke shot through the fog.

He means to fight it. Dear God he was planning to fight without being able to see it? He couldn’t, he’d burn the Maverick’s to a crisp!

The lantern light bobbed closer.

“Begone!” The knight roared, an ethereal authority added to his voice. “You know not what you face!”

I stared up in awe as the wind and light fought through the air. Mist and fire crackled and snapped against each other like a flaming tornado in the tempest, the wind howling like the same.

Then, just as the knight seemed to finish his casting, two wings of fire flashed down from the heavens and grabbed the knight to lift him away.

“Lantialiare! What are you-”

Another pulse of wind slashed through the fog, and that combined with the distraction was enough to kill the knight’s summoned flames. The world descended a simple dichotomy of blue and white as the phoenix began to lift the knight away, who stopped struggling with the death of the fire. He said nothing further as he disappeared from view into the raging wind and mist.

I didn’t feel any fear myself though, for I could recognise that roar anywhere. For that was no roar of the Walker of Woods, nor were there any woods for him to walk.

No, that was a dragon’s roar, and I only knew one dragon who lived nearby.

I began to close consciousness as the small drake plodded out of the fog from the west, a bloody wing dragging in the snow behind him. A single blue light gleamed from a glass scale on his back, as bright as the brightest Hearthstar in the sky.

“Thanks, Silst.”

And then everything went black.