The surge of ghouls amassing in the street pressed against those at the forefront through every entrance available along the street, including my building. They didn’t care to follow the mage’s trail of destruction, only that they could get closer, even if walls and doors blocked their path.
Doors splintered, and stone foundations trembled. I hurried up to the next floor, coated in falling dust from the ceiling. The wall that separated the buildings Zara and I were in took the brunt of his next spell, with ornaments and faded paintings falling from their mantels.
Thick smoke hissed through the cracks as he unleashed a torrent of fire into the narrow hallway beyond. The ghouls on the outskirts of the attack shrieked as those in the centre died instantly. However, the flames didn’t seem to last long to my senses. The mana churning inside Zara’s reserves dropped dramatically due to the overly taxing spell.
Yet it bought him time to climb to the next floor while the ghouls were less enthused to pursue him through the smoke and burning bodies. I mirrored his movements and climbed up the next flight of stairs, escaping my own rabid group of ghouls.
I swore and dove away from the partition as an explosive spell hit the divide. The entire building shook as I was showered in splinters. A hole in the wall appeared through the smoke. The stairs leading up to the fleeing mage no longer existed, and ghouls were clamouring over each other to reach the floor above.
My stairs were still intact, letting the ghouls catch up while I lay in a stupor at the arrogance to use that spell indoors. I scrambled up and ducked into a room, letting them pass or throw themselves through the new entrance onto the pile-up of ghouls.
If Zara’s brazen actions hadn’t gotten everyone into this mess, I’d commend him for escaping it. But we reached the top floor and were stuck unless we found a way to the rooftop.
His footsteps thudded between each room in a panic before turning softer as he found somewhere to hide. The ghouls still knew where he was but couldn’t get to him, gathering in the room below.
I perched on the frame of a smashed window and hung a leg out, finding a ledge to stand on. There wasn’t enough space on the tiny outcrop for more than the heel of my feet, and I hung onto the creeper vines for support as I shuffled along.
The closest window on the mage’s side didn’t have more than a crack, so I smashed my claws into it. The top floor was devoid of ghouls that were still trying to get past the collapsed stairs. Zara was in a room down the hallway, his mana signature shifting to look towards my smashed window.
I didn’t bother to walk quietly as I crunched across glass shards and creaky floorboards. I shifted to softer footfalls and crept near the wall, eyeing the doorways I could dive into if a spell came my way.
The door to Zara’s hiding spot had been closed. I wondered what was going through his mind as I slowly twisted the stubborn doorknob and let the door creak open.
The mana threads of the healing spell he’d been tying together shifted into a hurried attack. Three lines of light seared into my vision and left burn marks on the door and wall behind. I had no intention of walking inside and backed away as he dumped the last dregs of his mana reserves into another fire spell.
“Come fucking try it, freak,” he spat.
I chose not to take offence, as it must have been terrifying to think a ghoul could open the doors. Not much thought had gone into what I would do when I caught up to the mage, and now that I was here, I was still unsure. Questions Yis would want to be answered came to mind, but I didn’t feel much incentive to be here.
The clamour and outcry from the ghouls below faded as I focused on Zara’s laboured breathing. His choice of magic was strange but effective, and I didn’t want to stroll into its range. Burns couldn’t be healed away, so using fire was considered taboo by most mages and downright evil by everyone else. I didn’t fault him for using it against the ghouls, yet I didn’t want him burning the building down while I was still inside.
This was the best chance I would get for the motivations behind Tamil, the Opera house, and his purpose in the city. So I took it.“I’m not entering, so you can stop struggling to keep that spell together.”
There was a long pause, with more mana wasted to stabilise the spell that didn’t want to stay together any longer. “What are you?”
“That’s not very nice,” I sulked. “Shouldn’t the question be ‘Who are you?’”
“Well, get the fuck on with it and tell me then,” Zara groaned. “You’re not one of the incompetent brats who brought me here.”
“You think they started this mess? Not the person who used mana around mana-sensitive creatures?”
“Dumb monsters don’t understand mana, and neither do you. Stick to the concoctions and drawings your kind is good for. Run along to the coven and tell your illusion of events, but we’ll see who is more valuable when I return.”
“I’d rather ask some questions while I have your undivided attention,” I said, settling against the wall, worried he was right about the last part. Ulia’s actions may be acceptable against a random mage. However, no matter the circumstances, attacking Zara could impact the coven’s plans. I could see some elders doing their best to assuage his anger regarding this, even at the expense of Ulia.
It all depended on what he was doing here for the coven.
“If you’re not here to help fix their mistakes, you can jump out the window for all I care. I don’t see any reason to answer the questions of someone too cowardly to face me.”
“Why the different accent?” I asked instead. He sounded like any other person I’d met in Werl, not the thick accent he had during the tower meeting or the mild version after.
The hallway lit up as a burst of fire smashed into the door, and I leaned away from the wave of heat. Zara was shouting incoherently as the short-lived attack died down. The top half of the door fell, throwing up smouldering ashes as it landed.
“ —you! From that mana-forsaken patch of dirt in the north. You started this! Sticking your nose stuck where it doesn’t belong! Where do your loyalties lie? Who told you about Tamil?”
“I don’t see the point of answering you,” I replied calmly.
“You think yourself in control? There’s nothing you can do to threaten me and nothing you have that I want. Running away and hiding is all I’ve seen from you. Don’t waste the few breaths you have left.”
Zara was back to trying a healing spell over his legs. Either the injury was from his fall, or a ghoul had managed to catch him. “Where’s Ghaven?”
He ignored me in favour of continuing his healing, so I weakened a floorboard beneath him. Rot had set in years ago, and the wood quickly deteriorated at my demand. His weight was enough to crack it after moments. The mage yelped as he fell partway through the floor, caught by the support beams and remaining floorboards.
“Should I break another?” I asked.
Zara shuffled along the wall to a more secure position, arm raised towards the door. “You’re no witch… What are you?”
“Where’s Ghaven?”
“I haven’t seen him since Tamil,” he said with a hint of apprehension.
I suppressed a smile as I weakened another floorboard. “Wrong.”
This time, he was ready for it and shifted his weight off the crumbling wood. The ghouls below that had almost forgotten about us perked up at the noise. “Stop that!”
“Answer the question.”
“He’s still in the northern Dutchy; I don’t know where.”
“Then why did he mention you by name in the Opera House? It sounded like you ordered him there.”
Zara grunted as he moved, preparing for another break. But I pressed ahead with another question instead. “What about Oleza and Pennie?”
There was a shorter pause. “They’re dead or imprisoned, according to the witches.”
Meaning there were no more of his group in the city to relay information to him. He had to rely on the witch’s word. “I’m happy you know how to tell the truth. Why were they in Drasda, working with people who had a grudge against mages? It sounded like you believed the opposite in Tamil.”
“Needed the extra hands, and anyone with resentment can be easily directed. You already know why if you were at the opera house.”
“I know what they were doing, not the why.”
“Just doing a job. You’ll have to ask the witches for the reasoning,” Zara said, slowly getting to his feet while using the wall for leverage. I didn’t believe a word coming out of his mouth, especially with his antsy behaviour.
“You don’t care for the outcome as long as you get paid? Even if all your people fall?”
“Eh, not my people. Remember resentment? Kingdoms belong to a bygone era. I don't mind helping to resign Werl to the history books sooner. Why do you care? Witch, mage, or whatever you are, this country doesn’t value your talents. It’ll shift the product of your contributions to the lessers to make them feel equal.”
Zara slowly raised his arm towards the wall I hid behind. His guess was slightly off, but I still moved away, closer to the doorway. The mana threads forming over his palm were faint, and I didn’t recognise the effects.
“Doing it for the roe?” he continued. “There's no chance they pay your worth.”
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I swung only my arm around the entrance and threw a blast of air in his direction. The mage didn’t have time to switch to a shield. Zara cried out as he thudded against the wall and crumpled to the ground as I hid behind the wall again.
The duke didn’t pay me directly, but staying in the palace must have been expensive. His questions irked me because I didn’t have any good answers. I hardly needed the roe beyond what I already had and didn’t care beyond helping the kinder people around me who asked.
Today was about finding out what havoc Zara was here to cause, regardless of what the duke wanted of me. And when I completed that goal, I’d move on to the next that presented itself.
“You can make more than you would in a lifetime by helping me,” the mage said, his voice hoarse. “All you need to do is find some jewellery. The crown should be easy to find for someone who can hide their mana.”
“Pass,” I said without a moment’s thought. The glimmer of a plan to present the crown, get the reward, and not hand it over came to mind. However, there was no chance I would begin entertaining the thought of returning to the castle.
“Pass? Are you deranged? You’d be stealing from a dead man. Infinitely simpler than tracking me across the country like an obsessed dog.”
“Still, pass. Why do you need the crown?”
“Are you simply incapable of making a choice for your benefit? It’s like talking to a child. Why. Why. Why. It’s incessant. Fight me or bugger off.”
Zara shuffled away from the door, deeper into the room. The same spell was being reformed with the last vestiges of mana sitting in his reserves. The ambient mana filtering into his body was snatched away instantly, dragged to form the final threads.
The spell blossomed, casting a high-pitched shriek towards the doorway. I wobbled to the side, grabbing the wall for stability. I’d covered my ears on instinct after, but it didn’t help. I couldn’t tell if I was deaf or the spell had ended.
Zara appeared at the doorway, hand clutching the bloodstain on his chest and leg straightened in an effort to shuffle without aggravating his hurt ankle.
His free hand was raised, palm pointed to my chest. The beam of light that erupted towards me hit but failed to pierce. My robe was burnt through, but it didn’t cause more than redness on my skin. The mage’s next spell failed mid-cast. He was out of mana.
Zara fumbled for a dagger at his waist. I took the distraction to pounce on him, tumbling us back into the room. I ended up on top, but he was a larger person and quickly made to throw me off. The injuries to his leg and lack of mana hampered his struggle.
He still managed to break free from my pin, his hands pushed against my face to get me off. I slammed a fist down on the bloodied patch of clothing in retaliation. Zara wheezed in pain, stomping his legs. I fell forward, a hand on either side of his head to catch myself.
I’d let go of his arms, and he quickly recovered from the jolt of pain. His hands engulfed each side of my face, squeezing and yanking my head about, thumbs digging into my eyes. I opened my mouth to bite him with peluda venom, but my teeth scraped against his palm, not enough space to pierce the skin.
I dug my clawed hand into his chest wound and reached for his face. Thoughts couldn’t break through my panic. His thumbs were pressed against my eyes, nails digging into the back of my skull. I pulled at his arms, not doing enough to lessen the anguish. I gripped one arm with both of mine and tore him off, pulling away from his grip.
I let go to point a palm at his face, but he renewed his attack.
The floor creaked from our struggle, rotted fragments flying off at our kicks and elbows. The wooden beams wouldn’t rise up to strangle him as I commanded. I reached out for his neck but could only scratch at his chest, eliciting another yowl from aggravating the arrowhead.
At a loss for thought, I reverted to my first idea: weakening the floorboards.
We dropped partway as the support beams creaked and bent. We stilled at the sensation of falling and the loud creaking. I went to get up and away from the inevitable collapse, but he gripped my ear and robe, pulling me back down. The structure's integrity slipped as I continued to tug the rotted beams in different directions, our weight snapping them in half.
I yelped as my stomach jumped into my throat and slammed back down as we landed hard on the floor below. It creaked from our impact, ghouls screeching from being hit by us and falling debris. The floor caved, and we tumbled down to the next storey, breaking a dining room table in half this time.
Dust and timber rained down on us as ghouls tumbled down the widening hole in the roof. Another section of the floor above collapsed, and the top of a wardrobe slowly tipped into view. My landing had been rough but softened by Zara. His arms were feeble and mouth agape as he blankly stared at the deteriorating ceiling.
The ghouls were still quicker to recover than either of us. I rolled off the mage and broken table as the wardrobe creaked further into sight. Zara couldn’t do the same as it tipped through the hole and landed upright on his legs. A strangled grunt was all he could manage as it broke apart and fell around him.
A ghoul clutched my foot as I tried to crawl away. I kicked out, catching its chin and yanked my foot away, crawling towards the only exit. Many ghouls were still on the floor, but those left unscathed were already on the hunt.
I stood on shaky legs, grabbing the wrists of a ghoul trying to slash me. My claws barely drew blood from its neck as more ghouls got to their feet, stalking towards each of us. I pushed mana into the steel tips and let out a set of wind blades on my next swipe, the attack travelling a hairsbreadth before spraying me in black bile.
I whipped the back of my hand across my face and squinted at the next ghoul, hitting it in the chest with a set of blades. I spun around, attacking the closest creature to me while hearing Zara's gargled cries as he failed to fend off his own attackers.
Most ghouls now lay crumpled on the floor, black blood pooling into thick puddles. Those left standing were piled onto Zara. I let loose sets of blades into the mound of them, not worrying about hitting the mage. Those able to stand after the onslaught didn’t get very far as they tried to charge towards me.
Silence fell over the room as the last one fell, replaced by the oncoming stampede outside. I stepped over bodies and debris, closing the double doors. The lock didn’t turn, so I pressed my back against them as the first ghoul bashed into the other side. Each impact slid my dug-in heels across the floor.
I leaned further into the door as an opening formed. Fingers reached in, trying to find purchase on my robes to pull me into their hoard.
Go away!
The fingers recoiled, going to clutch at the ghoul’s faces as they thrashed about. It was a slight blessing that all the screams of mercy, sorrow and begs for death drowned each other out, leaving behind a debilitating roar of suffering. The doors clicked shut again. My back slid down them until I fell to my butt, legs splayed out in front of me.
Tears ran down my cheeks, yet I didn’t think any were for the body of the mage lying amongst the corpses of ghouls.
Those outside slowly moved away, lessening the strain on my mind. However, that meant I could hear individual cries now. Most in this portion of the city repeated their dying words while few continued with the incoherent screeching from the outer districts. I hit my head back into the door, trying to chase away the horror.
I was starting to get used to it, numb to the cries of even the childlike voices.
I didn’t know how long passed before the last ghoul stopped wailing or roamed away, leaving me in peace, sitting in a puddle of red and black blood, eyes unfocused on the carnage before me.
If I'd known it would end up like this, I would have hit Zara with a blade two floors up. The sparse information I’d gained didn’t make this feel worth it. I still didn’t know what or why events were unfolding around me. My meddling in Tamil had pushed them in this direction, but it was hardly my fault.
I didn’t have any profound justification to ease my conscience, yet I also didn’t feel that guilty. His choices, more than mine, lead us to this.
I pushed off the floor and stepped over bodies, kicking the ghouls to ensure they were dead. Zara’s vacant expression caught my attention, and I waited for the bile to rise in my throat.
Nothing happened.
“All you had to do was answer a few questions,” I said, leaning down to pull out the portion of the arrow shaft protruding from his chest. If nothing else, Ulia wouldn’t be blamed for his death.
Outside the double doors was a ransacked sitting room, a ghoul cowering in the corner, uninterested in my passing. I didn’t bother it as I searched for the stairs, eager to be outside in the fresh air. I still had to walk past burnt bodies before I could achieve that.
No amount of water was getting the blood stains entirely out of my robes, but I could wet my lips and wash off the splatter across my face.
The hoard that had formed outside had only partially dispersed. They loitered throughout the ground floor and street beyond. The wards slowed the dispersal by blocking off an entire direction to roam.
When most of the ghouls weren’t turned my way, I crept to the doorway and dashed across the street to the warded line of buildings. The few that noticed me lost interest as I ran up the stairs to the roof. It was the same building Zara had ruined the window of, and I climbed out onto the tiles, wary of them sliding out from under me.
The girls couldn’t have gone far without getting off the rooftop, so I followed the likely pathway. I was starting to see a pattern emerging: We separated, some of us got into trouble, and then I ended up tracking down three non-mages inside a city field to the brim with ambient mana, iron, and enchanted items.
I was leaning towards not splitting up again after this.
We spotted each other around the same time as I walked through a house taller than those next to it. Maisie had a pipe lit between shaking fingers, taking long draws while trying to hold her hands steady. Ulia sat on the ridge, twirling the bow in her lap. She was in the way of Andria’s pacing, forcing her to walk on the slanted tiles while she talked.
Without a word, I sat beside Maisie and held my hand out for the pipe. She placed it in my palm, and I took a long, steady breath. The smoke filling my lungs felt less effective than before, or maybe that was because more uneasiness filled my thoughts.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Don’t ask,” Maisie said, reaching for the pipe.
“Decided to join us after all?” Ulia asked with forced normalcy. “Have a run-in with the neighbours?”
I looked down at the blood stains and shrugged. “Yeah, lots of them on the street for some reason. Where’s the mage?”
“He’s somewhere,” Andria said. “We warned him not to run off alone, but something caught his eye.”
“That’s not going to work,” Maisie said, accidentally blowing smoke into my face. “Sorry. He’s probably back at the abbey telling the elders all about this.”
“He’s dead,” Ulia said, giving up the facade. “He’s not going to be able to tell any story.”
“We have to go back and get the elders on our side before him,” Maisie argued. “Even if he doesn't come back, it’s not our fault; we need to make sure they know that.”
“You asked him to stop using the same spell and show us a different one,” Ulia said.
“Stop it,” Andria said, nudging Ulia in the side with her foot. “They’re not going to believe some outsider over us.”
Ulia scoffed. “If he was essential to the Ambuya’s plans, it won’t matter if they believe us. We’ll still get saddled with the blame. Maisie is right; we should tell them ourselves before he can. The full truth, otherwise when they find what’s left of his body with an arrow stuck in, banishment for all of us.”
“You’re not going to ask?” Maisie asked, handing the pipe back to me.
“You said not to.”
She gave me a narrow stare while Andira and Ulia argued about death, excuses, and consequences. I pulled out the broken arrowhead I’d cleaned and pocketed, throwing it to Ulia. She flinched at the projectile coming her way but caught it easily.
“I think the mage didn’t listen to us and drew too much attention with his cheap magic. He was too arrogant and died thinking he could fight off the city by himself instead of running as we told him.”
Ulia was still staring at the arrowhead, and I wasn’t sure if she was listening. Maisie chose to say nothing and concentrate on the herbs in the pipe.
“Right,” Andria said, slowly nodding her head. “Arrogant bastard almost got us killed.”