The sun was wrong. And apparently, so was I.

The sad little red disk in the sky peered through an opening in the wagon’s tarp-like curtains, casting a slice of sunlight directly onto my cramped seat between barrels and cargo. The sun’s mild blare lit my miserable face. I was too tired to move seats.

The city landscape of Volés had left us however many hours ago, replaced with insultingly thriving plains and grassy hilltops. Lone farms stood here and there, luscious with grains never seen on earth. How the sun could support such vegetation was a mystery to me, but I didn’t exactly care to ask for an answer. The crops grew taller than my hunched-up posture, and I knew I wasn’t about to get up any time soon.

Our ride, though bumpy and cramped amongst barrels, was luxurious in its own right. I had wheels under my ass, saving me from the effort of walking. We slowly crept away from the city and my crimes.

Towards a new city with new crimes.

“Nothing but farms surrounding downtown,’” Em had said. Somehow, I remembered her words with clarity. Em and Ry were all my mind wished to brood on. I could picture their smiles, their curses, their determination to help a total stranger like me.

And of course, their scorched bodies.

Why do I care? I asked myself. I barely knew the two for half a day. Hell, if not for Darko’s letter, Ry would have thrown me over the border. The two were rude just as much as they were nice.

Their deaths couldn’t be deemed my fault. The cult was far more guilty than I would ever be.

Why, then, did I want nothing more than to turn back time to offer myself for torture just to save them?

I continued staring at the walls of our wagon. I knew I must have looked like my brain had been spooked out of operation. Pretending to look proper was too much effort.

Remy, currently alone in the wagon with me, had given up on small talk by the third time I offered a lackluster answer. She stayed quiet but occasionally sent concerned glances my way. I tried my best to pretend she and her judgeful eyes didn’t exist.

I must have looked extra miserable under sunlight, however, as Remy faced me. “May I check your chords again?” she asked. “It’s, uh, I doubt the Corruption has grown, but it doesn’t hurt to check.”

I offered my palm, my eyes pointing somewhere in the distance.

Remy gave me a weak smile before examining my hands. Her touch was gentler than the Priest Keeper’s, though still awfully prying.

She released me after a short checkup. “All perfect for now. You exhausted your mana chords. That’s both good and bad. Good, because without mana in your body, the Corruption can’t run rampant. You’ve proven mana can be dissipated from your body. Bad, because without mana in your chords, you can’t practice your channeling. You need rest before practice can start.”

I offered half a nod in response. Rest I would gladly take.

Remy bit her lip, looking down at me with concerned eyes. “Sorry…” she said. “I, um… Have I done something wrong? You look distant.”

“No,” I said. “It’s me who did something wrong.”

“What did you do?”

Isn’t it obvious? I thought. Got kidnapped. Burned a church. Killed my friends.

“Don’t worry about me,” I said. “I’m just tired. I'll get up. Eventually.”

***

Darko trailed the ride from a quarter mile behind. He stood atop a hillock slightly off path, watching for pursuers or for anything else that enjoyed munching on carriage wheels. A merchant passed them here and there. Farmers were out fighting pests, yelling at their children. All normal stuff for a midday trade route. No bandits, and thankfully no royalty.

The driver and his horses had accepted bribery for the escape easily enough. Technically, Darko had committed a criminal offense. He was obliged to attend questioning by King Xastur’s law—anyone involved in a serious crime was forced to help investigators however they could. Daphine would undoubtedly be pissed with Darko’s lack of cooperation.

The escape didn’t put Darko in guillotine trouble, but it placed him on a list of annoyances at the very least. Nothing too serious. What he was concerned about was the waste of time that was a royal interrogation.

Darko headed back towards the dirt path, signaling for Shena and Rakash to do the same. They abandoned their watch on the opposite side of the road and joined him.

“We should be safe,” Darko said. “Doesn’t look like the royals followed. And I don’t recall this path having a reputation for thievery.”

Shena nodded, though didn’t look too enthusiastic. “Will they come looking?”

“They will,” Darko said. “But I doubt we are a priority. We’re gaining a reputation as mysterious heroes achieving mysterious deeds. The Krose hold a soft spot for exaggerations. The royals will offer us some slack. As long as we don’t directly cause a disaster.”

“Burning a church wasn’t a disaster?” Shena asked.

“Hundreds of witnesses saw us extinguish the flames,” Darko said. “Any investigation at all will show that the church was hijacked by cultists. It’s clear we aren’t the cause of this. Not the main cause, at least. Our escape can be explained if we have to. It’s a true excuse that we are in a hurry. The royal audience is supposed to be held forty hours from now.”

They trotted after the carriage, having to walk faster than was comfortable. Any slower, and they’d have to run to catch up.

“Still, I’m surprised,” Darko said. “I know you said Gorthorns were your friends, but I’m surprised to see proof. We’re glad to have you, Rakash.”

“Darko, the Wyvern Slayer,” Rakash said. Her enunciation was superb, nothing like the brutish rumors claimed. Gorthorns truly were misinterpreted by this country as a whole. “I hear you’ve taken good care of my friend, Shena. Thank you.”

“And I thank your tribe for raising such a lovely lady,” Darko said. Before Shena’s scowl could evolve, he added, “You’ve turned her into a great fighter.”

“You may thank my mother,” Rakash said. “I am famous as the jibe of my tribe. Shena here has grown resistant to my taint.”

Darko laughed. “I believe Shena has been tainted from the moment she joined.”

“Can we stop with the flattery?” Shena said. “Nine Archpriests still run loose. Azetoth still lives with his head intact. Rakash’s tribe lies who knows where. What of our plans, Darko? You’ve remained quiet long enough. Isn’t it time you revealed how your grand plan relates to all this? Do you have a plan at all?”

“We’ll stop by the Guild Post to feed the horses and possibly ourselves,” Darko said. “The carriage should arrive in four hours. We’ll see if Hastmire has anything interesting for us. Some hours after that and we’ll depart for—”

“Obviously our path leads to Arkber,” Shena said. “Don’t treat me like a child asking when we’ll arrive. What about the real problems we face? The cult? The Archpriests? Jordan Feryah? Does your plan include even the slightest solutions on how we’re going to cut Azetoth’s head off?”

“I generally like to use my sword for cutting heads,” Darko said. “Humanity has yet to invent a better solution.”

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

Shena’s expression looked as if she wished to turn back time to interrupt his parents’ fun time. “Darko… Rakash’s people are possibly enslaved. They suffer, while the leader I vowed to follow laughs at failing plans. Please get serious before I offer the Gorthorns a courtesy by blasting your head off.”

“The no-breed swordsman speaks truth,” Rakash said. “Glyphswords are effective indeed.”

Shena frowned. “And you are the jibe indeed.”

“I apologize,” Darko said with a smile. “Shena, you’re wrong on one part. Our plans certainly aren’t failing. The urn fills with each cultist soul we’ve gathered. We are well on pace for launching the attack. No adjustments need to be made.”

“We nearly lost to the tenth Archpriest,” Shena said. “The weakest of the officials. The four of us could face Azetoth three to one, and he’d swipe us in a flash.”

“But we succeeded,” Darko said. “And we gained a whole bunch of reputation along the way. Exactly as the plan requires. The Prince will see this as a success.”

“Fantastic,” Shena said. “If we successfully convince royalty to join us, a task which is already difficult enough after our questionable criminal record, our team grows from an idiot and two mediocre mages into two idiots and two mediocre mages. You and Prince Vitek could be equipped with Moonblades on both hands, and their power would only boost your overconfidence.”

“Shena,” Darko said. “For all the complaints my humor receives, you sure are eager to toss jokes.”

“I am not joking.” Shena paused and licked her lips. “I’m worried. Your plan was overly enthusiastic when you proposed it. And the cult has only grown since.”

“We progress exactly as I have intended to,” Darko said. “Doesn’t matter how many henchmen Azetoth hires. Our plans stay the same. Cause chaos and kill the boss while he’s distracted. I’m certain the King will assign his Prince to the plan I am going to propose.”

Shena hesitated. “You saw that magic-stealer contraption. What if they have more?”

“We defeated it, did we not?” Darko said. “We’ll do so again. We know what’s coming.”

Shena didn’t look convinced. “Fine. I will trust your word. But what about Cillian?”

“This,” Darko said, “is the one part of our plans I haven’t yet found a solution to.”

“Abandoning him is not an option, especially not with the cult looking for him,” Shena said. “Searching for a non-evil teacher is out of the question. Cillian would fall to the Corruption before you catch the slightest trace of an honest teacher. The houses are always available, but I know none of us like that option. Remy won’t have that.”

“I’ll come up with something,” Darko said. “For now, our goal is to get the man back to his feet. As he is now, we could send him to his funeral, and neither Cill nor the gravedigger would bat an eye. Rakash. I heard you are a healer. Is there anything you can do to soothe his exhaustion?”

“Magic has done all it can to help,” Rakash said. “Exhaustion no longer reaps him. It is different problems clouding his head.”

“What do you mean?” Darko asked. “He is obviously exhausted.”

“Cillian bears wounds no healer can touch,” Rakash said. “What happened in the church was—” She paused. “—horror. That is the word.”

Darko frowned. He’d heard of this rare phenomenon before. When warriors face a situation so cruel, so utterly terrifying that the events replay in their heads for the end of time. During the night, during the most relaxing of parties, all they could see was their past, as if their fight had never ended, trapping them in an endless moping fit. The same couldn’t have happened to Cillian, right?

“Will he recover?” Darko asked.

“He stays haunted,” Rakash said. “For how long is a battle he is to endure. I sense a strong will in that man. He is not one to give up.”

“Do you have a cure?” Darko asked.

“Not in physical form.” Rakash stared ahead at their moving carriage. “But there are remedies. I suspect he requires encouragement, to remind him that not all has been lost.”

“He needs to get his wits back,” Darko said. “A mage will not survive a week in the state Cill is in, no matter which path he chooses. We have to get him out of the moping fit one way or another. Rakash? Do you have any ideas?”

“I will talk to him,” Rakash said. “Though I do not make promises.”

Darko nodded. “Thank you, Rakash. The Krose require more people like you.”

Rakash smiled. “Your kind seems to disagree. But I thank you for the hospitality.”

“What of the Corruption?” Shena asked. “No amount of motherly love will fix the danger he’s about to endure.”

“The Corruption will not be an issue,” Rakash said. “Three capable mages surround his position. We together will not have an issue keeping his mana at bay.”

“It’s not so simple amongst the Krose,” Shena said. “We lack a license.”

“My existence alone is a crime according to the toddler running this country,” Rakash said. “I say Xastur’s laws hold less value than the promises of a two-year-old child.”

Shena bit her lip. “You… aren’t wrong.”

“Cillian is more capable than he lets out,” Rakash said. “The three of us will have a simple time. I sensed no disruptions in his mana during our stay at the cells.”

“He woke up from the awakener’s coma yesterday,” Shena said. “The Corruption will pick up. It always does.”

“We will see,” Rakash said. “And we will hope.”

The walk continued in silence under the cool breeze of the slowly brightening sky. The time was three hours before noon, around the time the sky picked up in brightness. Within an hour, the three moons orbiting the sun would shine brighter than the sun itself. Daylight moons, they were called. The Gods’ nourishment to make up for the failed sun—so claimed the followers of Akona.

The southern part of the country was blessed with clear moonlight, and had little to no natural disruptions (other than the risk of the Dragon Wall nearby). The country folk were devoted to their tasks and were rewarded with healthy land.

“I say we only have one option,” Shena said. “We keep him. Cillian is a part of the team now. This is the only conclusion to our problems. Illegal as it is.”

Darko sighed inside his head. A part of him had hoped Shena wouldn’t find this conclusion. “Cill will be a hindrance to our operations.”

“For the upcoming months, perhaps,” Shena said. “Afterward, if he manages to restore his head and train his magic, he’ll become the strongest mage we’ve ever worked with. You saw his potential. Assuming the story holds no lies, and I don’t doubt Rakash as a witness, he burned a Black Plate by himself. Burned.”

“Months is already more time than we have,” Darko said. “And that could easily turn to years. We lack the time to train him. Assuming he accepts our training at all. My guidance nearly got him killed already.”

“At least offer him the chance,” Shena said. “If he declines, he’s free to join the Houses.”

“It’s not that simple,” Darko said. “By adding Cill, we’d have a beginner to worry about on top of our already lacking members. Would you trust the man to shield your back? Would you trust him to protect himself during a battle? For all the benefits he’d offer as a secret weapon, he’ll cause double the headaches being trained and protected.”

“I say we keep him regardless,” Shena said. “His potential is too good to pass up.”

“Do you say this because you want to save him from his fate, or because you truly believe he’s going to pull his weight?”

“I say this because I doubt our chances if we don’t use his help. Training him may postpone our plans, but his powers certainly won’t hold us back.”

“I see,” Darko said. “And how in the name of Carillia’s dozen Moons will we explain his presence to the royals? Our audience is being held two days from now.”

Shena thought for a second. “We’ll forge Remy a license. Claim that Cillian is her honest responsibility. We’ll trick the royals.”

“Remy’s background is too easy to check, even if we find a proficient forger in the time we have,” Darko said. “Not to mention, anyone sensible would share the exact arguments as I. This is not a job where awakeners are taught. Makes us seem unprofessional. And if we do bring him along, we’ll qualify as exactly that.”

“Then, if you don’t have any ideas, I fear Cillian’s future will be tied to slavery,” Shena said. “If we truly can’t take him, we need to get rid of him. This would cause its own problems.”

Darko took a deep breath. Damn his conscience for wishing good on people. “There is one way we could make use of Cill for this particular plan. It requires some cooperation from his side, however. And a whole bunch of lies. The dangerous kind of lies.”

“You’re good with those,” Shena said.

“I can’t believe I’m being persuaded to criminality by my own damn mages.”

“A mage’s refusal to be placed into slavery is considered a crime,” Shena said. “If this is the law we are breaking, we should have no qualms helping Cillian.”

“We would have to break the law as blatantly as crimes go, lying straight to the faces of the most powerful legislators,” Darko said. “I’m positive I could get him through. I could even make use of him. But this does not change the fact that getting caught would put us all on the forefront of the Mages’ Association’s most wanted suspects.”

“If you are positive in our success, I believe this to be a risk we must take,” Shena said. “Don’t you agree?”

Darko sighed. “I agree that training him wouldn’t be a total loss. And Remy would be satisfied.” Crazy how excited mages get taking on the responsibility of curing a possible manic mage.

“We will give him a chance, then?” Shena asked.

“Looks like you girls will force me regardless,” Darko said. “But I am inclined to agree. I will offer him the choice.”

Shena nodded. “And actually give him a chance. We’ll get nowhere if you drown him with threats to convince him that slavery is preferable.”

“I could convince Cerdri himself to join the party if he was still alive,” Darko said. “Just watch. I’ll show you how it’s done.”

Although, slavery would be a preferable fate.