Harpyn’s eyes locked on Geor’s as the last stones of the tower crumbled around them. Together, they held their hands high, fighting to keep the protective shield up around them. But Harpyn knew it wouldn’t hold.

He hadn’t been trained for this. He didn’t have the stamina. And Geor was flagging, too. Harpyn could see it in the way the old man trembled, the line of sweat forming across his creased brow.

“Go…” Geor gritted through his teeth. “Go now!”

Harpyn shook his head, knowing that there was only one way out, and if he took it, Geor would be crushed by the weight of stone above them.

“GO!” Geor shouted, mustering a ferocity that Harpyn had never seen in him before, even at his most surly.

With a shudder, Harpyn closed his eyes and said the words that would transport him away from the tower and out into the fields beyond. At the last second, he lunged for Geor, thinking he might be able to pull the old man with him through the portal, but it was too late. Geor had already collapsed to the floor, and Harpyn was tugged through the ethereal waypoint as a horrible grinding sound filled the air. The tower had fallen, every last stone and timber.

Harpyn’s stomach twisted into a painful knot as he felt his feet hit the ground. He barely had time to throw his arms out in front of him before he fell forward onto his knees and retched in the dirt. His arms quivered from the effort of holding him up, and a low moan escaped from somewhere deep inside him.

As he fought to steady himself, he twisted his body to look at the remains of the tower behind him. He could already hear soldiers shouting orders somewhere in the distance and he groaned again.

He rolled onto his hip and sat up, drawing a deep breath before looking around. All around him, the land was flat and open. With the collapse of the tower, the magical forest that once concealed it had vanished. The pile of rubble and the enormous tower of smoke was all that remained of Geor’s stronghold.

The sound of soldiers approaching made Harpyn jump and he realized that it was only a matter of minutes before he was spotted. He had no doubt that the guards would detain him and question him, especially with his black robes covered in dust as they were.

Slowly, it was all beginning to sink in. He had to get help. From… where? He couldn’t think straight. His ears were ringing, and his head was pounding, and all he could think about was Geor’s body crushed beneath the debris. Another involuntary shudder ran through him and he leaned over just in time to pass another round of watery bile before he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.

“Have to get out of here,” he croaked, his throat dry now that he was done emptying his stomach.

There was only one place to go, and that was Torg Uyen. He didn’t have many friends there, but he might be able to find a place to rest and formulate a plan. That was what he really needed, wasn’t it? A plan.

Another explosion rocked the air and Harpyn watched a blue cloud bloom into the air amid shouts from the soldiers. He thought about the vials of mysterious powders and all of Geor’s magical implements, lost to the destruction. But it was the vault that he was most concerned with. He’d seen those weapons, possessed by some ancient magic, attempt to kill Geor once. What if they were loosed upon the world? Who could stop them?

He couldn’t leave. Not without assuring himself that the weapons were buried alongside Geor, and there they would stay.

Harpyn spotted a rocky outcropping and headed straight for it. If he could get to the other side, he would have a better vantage point from which to watch the soldiers. With any luck, they would be concerned only with putting out whatever was burning, and they would leave the rubble as it was, a problem for someone else to clean up once the site was secure.

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Creeping along the rocks, Harpyn found a place to scramble up for a better view. He moved slowly, afraid of losing his footing and giving himself away. Once he reached the top, he laid flat on his belly, watching a dozen or so men in full armor moving about the pile of burning timber like ants over a piece of pie. He could not hear what they were saying except for the orders shouted by the man on horseback, but he could see they were making good progress with dousing the fire using barrels of water.

Despite all this, there was still an occasional pop or sizzle followed by a colorful jet of sparks and shouts from the men as they leapt out of the way. The activity continued for hours until Harpyn heard a shout from one of the men, and then the man on horseback rode closer. There was a conversation between the two and the horseman nodded before straightening himself in his saddle and looking around with disgust.

“All right, soldiers. Our job here is done. Torg Uyen is safe once more, and good riddance to that wicked mage! May Andrysfal be better off without him and his kind around these parts.”

A cheer rose up from the soldiers and they abandoned their places around the tower, rallying around their leader.

“Well, that’s not very friendly,” Harpyn mumbled as he watched the battalion form up and begin to head home. All except for two men who had apparently been left to guard the place.

Harpyn waited impatiently for the soldiers to leave and then he crept closer to the tower’s remains, searching for any sign that the vault had been opened. It occurred to him that the vault was a magical contraption of Geor’s making, and it may not have even been in the tower when it collapsed. But then again, if Geor was dead, maybe it didn’t exist at all anymore.

Questions and more questions rattled about in Harpyn’s head as he bolted from one sparse hiding place to the next, desperate for answers. If the vault didn’t exist, what happened to the weapons? Where could they have—

Harpyn froze. As he darted across the open space, his eyes landed on something pale laying in the dirt. A hand. Geor’s hand, the sleeve of his robe still attached, disappearing beneath a large chunk of stone.

He swallowed, unable to pull his eyes away. Of course he’d known that Geor was gone. But seeing his mentor’s outstretched hand, as if reaching for freedom, shook Harpyn to his core. And there, twinkling between two fallen beams, Harpyn could see the hilt of a weapon reflecting back the last bit of sunshine.

“Hey! You there! What are you doing?”

Harpyn jumped, realizing he’d been standing in plain view. He whirled, facing the soldier with wide eyes, his mouth falling open as he grasped for an explanation.

“I, uh, I was just—”

The soldier looked him up and down suspiciously. “You’re a mage,” he said with a scowl as his companion appeared behind him.

“Uh, no sir, not exactly. I was a servant. Really just a housekeeper, to be honest.” Harpyn tried a smile, hoping the soldier wouldn’t see how anxious he was.

“A housekeeper?”

“Yes, sir. You see, the old man who lived here, he was, err… well, he was really old. And he wasn’t much for sweeping floors and all that. Made his back ache, you know? And so he paid me to come clean up for him and run some errands. I was just on my way to come do his weekly cleaning when I heard the explosion.”

The two men looked at one another doubtfully before returning their attention to Harpyn. For his part, Harpyn was rather proud of himself for thinking on his feet. Geor had never much appreciated his wit, but every once in a while it came in handy to get him out of trouble.

“Well, I’m afraid there’s not much sweeping to be done here any longer,” the soldier said with a laugh. “You’d best be getting on somewhere. And between you and me, I’d recommend taking off that old robe while you’re at it. You know the people of Torg Uyen were always a little afraid of the old mage, but now he’s gone, you won’t want to be associating with his kind, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Harpyn said, nodding quickly. “I’ll make sure to get rid of this old thing just as soon as I get home.”

Turning on his heel, Harpyn headed straight toward the road, eager to be away from the soldiers before they could ask any more questions.

Now, more than ever, he was sure he needed help. The weapons were here, outside of the vault, and there was no one to watch over them. He certainly couldn’t tell two low ranked soldiers about them. No, it was best to pretend he saw nothing and come back once he’d found another mage powerful enough to contain the dangerous things. It was what Geor would have wanted, he assured himself. For the safety of Andrysfal and the world.