“With all due respect, Councilman Brakus, chasing them through that… anomaly.. Would be suicide.” High Commander Blackfist’s deep rumble of a voice held a note of steel as he continued. “I will not lead my men on a suicide mission.”

Ulresh stood with his hands behind his back beneath the canvas of the hastily erected command tent. Before him stood a slender woman, her posture impossibly straight. Her eyes were wholly an opalescent white iris and pupil both obliterated by the weave that she had cast.

When she spoke, her voice was a clipped tenor, masculine. “You’ll do what the joint councils decide, High Commander. We have the Empire on the run, we have captured the last of their holdings. They will not escape us this time.”

“They have already escaped.” There was leashed fury in Ulresh’s voice. Behind his back, his hands were fisted tightly. “Their entire force has passed through the anomaly. Only an idiot wouldn’t guard it and for all that he is the Red Emperor is no fool.”

There was a flicker in the opalescent eyes as the Councilman’s attention was drawn away from the weave. “Yes.” And then after a pause. “Yes.” Finally the white eyes returned their attention to the High Commander.

“High Commander, we are sending a cadre of Spellweavers to inspect the Wild Weaves and see what may be done about this anomaly. They will arrive in three days. Until that time, secure the area. Your requested reinforcements are already enroute. They were in Destraung and shall arrive the day after tomorrow.”

“Yes, Councilman, thank you.”

“Keep that area secured, Ulresh. We’re counting on you.”

“It will be done, sir.”

The spellweaver’s opalescent eyes blinked closed and opened revealing muddy brown irises. “I hate that weave.” She admitted with a shudder.

“I am sorry, Nya. I can only imagine how that must feel.”

Nya tucked her hair behind her ears with a grin. “I appreciate that you care, High Commander.”

“I may not be able to manipulate the Weave, but I have commanded spellweavers in my armies for a very long time. Too long, I begin to think.” Ulresh scratched at his beard with the thick fingers of one hand. His kind smile, broken by a pair of long fangs overlapping his top lip, found an answering smile on Nya’s face.

“I hope you still have many years before you, High Commander. Your soldiers speak highly of you and I have heard no ill from any source.”

“Except my enemies.” He chuckled. “Is it possible to weave a shield around the anomaly?”

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She winced. “No, sir. For one, it’s in the Wild Weaves, which causes its own share of problems. Beyond that, there’s just not enough stable weave left in the area to manipulate.”

Ulresh cursed and turned to one of the runners waiting at the flap of the tent. “Have the soldiers start gathering lumber and stone. We’ll build a damn wall around the area if that’s all we can do protect ourselves.”

The woman took a deep breath and huffed out a heavy sigh. “Ulresh, I fear this anomaly, this Tear in the Weave. I worry this is only the beginning.”

Red-brown eyes narrowed and zeroed in on her tanned face, “Is this an augury, a foretelling?”

“I wouldn’t call it anything so formal. Call it a feeling, an instinct, but heed it, I urge you.”

He searched her face for a hint, but her expression showed only worry. “We shall move with all caution then. Still we should build some sort of physical barrier that we may prevent others from interacting with the Tear. Speak with the other spellweavers and see if any of the others share your concerns”

She nodded and left as he dismissed her. He stood for a moment, alone in the cluster of officers and runners. “Have my horse prepared. I will inspect the perimeter myself.”

One of the runners saluted and disappeared through the flaps of the tent. Ulresh rolled his shoulders beneath his scale armor and winced. I’m getting too old for this, he thought. Sixty and five was old for an orckin, but he was still hale. Or mostly so. Just dealing with the pains of a body abused for all of his adult life as a soldier. He had begun as a runner, almost half a century ago and now, now he led his own force against all enemies of Ogrekall. Or in this particular case, enemies to all. Still, this would likely be his last campaign.

He checked his sword and exited the tent. The camp was going up around him in the darkest part of the night. Soldiers hurried here and there. Several miles north and west of the budding camp was the source of the Tear. Though he was not a weaver, even he could sense the disruption in the weave. He stood for long moments trying to make his eyes see the Weave itself, without success.

The runner he had sent for his horse returned and Ulresh mounted with easy grace. The horse sidestepped as it adjusted to his weight and followed his lead as he guided it into the patchy darkness past campfires and torches. The horse snorted as they left the camp behind, riding toward the breech. Ulresh could see scouts and patrols circling widely around the Tear, seeking the best places for the fortifications the High Commander had ordered.

The grasslands of the Farthess Reach stretched as far as the eye could see rolling gently in every direction. The Ogrekalli border was an invisible line to the east, drawn by power and politics. To the west and northwest was the Wild Weave and all the dangers it offered and beyond that the deadly Outlands. And in the midst of the Wild Weave? A tear in the very fabric of the world, rent by the Red Empire as they tried desperately to escape their enemies.

Some of the blame for this desperate action must fall upon Ulresh’s broad shoulders, if only by association. He stopped his horse near the edge of the ritual circle, the sand still bearing the marks of the Empire’s hasty retreat. What devastation had those bastards left in their wake? What would be the consequences of their actions? Of the actions of the High Commander and his forces. He could feel the Wild Weaves tickling at exposed skin and the horse snorted and stamped one back hoof as the weave brushed against its skin as well.

Whatever the consequences, whatever the outcome, it would be dealt with. If Nya was right, this would likely change the world as they knew it, but the world was always changing. Always. Ulresh watched the wind swirl through the tall grasses for a moment longer before he turned back to the camp.