Kimbic was an interesting system. Technically, it was two systems. The one she was most familiar with was the written form—spells cast into paper to be sold or given for anyone to use. Quick, effective, and barely touching a person’s latent magic.

Those were the ones she’s seen most often in the Raidt.

Elves used mercari. Why bother learning kimbic when mercari was far easier and less effort to expand into? Besides, the rnari didn’t give any points for kimbic.

Shortsighted, perhaps. Then again, who could have predicted that half of mercari’s source magic would become closed to them? It had never happened before.

Mercari had its limitations, though. For one, the spellforms had to be tattooed on—and some of them did not play well with others. Summons, mostly. Kodanh, for instance, was an enormously territorial entity. He tolerated her latent magic—bloodline magic worked on a different level than he did, and he really didn’t care much about whether she made a dogwood grow or not—but he’d been spitting mad at the wind runes on her other arm.

It had taken nearly a week to settle him down, and even then she’d still occasionally wake up with frost on her bedding and blood seeping from the offending runes.

He had a problem with competing mercari.

Kimbic’s main practice, however, didn’t require tattooing. Only memorization, repetition, and an adept with enough patience to stick around while you did so. Unlike mercari, all its sources were local—this world, rather than a split between this world and the fey. Nales stopped them for ten minutes, drawn some summon sigils, conjured a quick fire, and had them repeat an intention spell.

Then, he’d taken some wood from the fire—a stick with a glowing, smoking ember—and drew another symbol on the back of their hands.

She’d expected it to hurt, expected the ember to sear into her skin and make a brand of its marking.

It hadn’t.

Instead, it had simply felt like a stick drawing on her hand. A piece of charcoal, warmed by the sun.

When they completed the ritual, she felt that warmth sink into her bones.

She’d stood tensely for several moments, waiting for Kodanh’s retaliation. There was, she suspected, still a chance he’d take issue with magic.

But if he did, his world’s gates were currently closed. He’d have to take it up with her later.

They went back to riding, this time with fire in three of their hands.

Practice. Memorization. The first would come now, and the second later when she had time to sit and practice writing. Kimbic required one to think of a rune for activation. Or for an adept to burn one into the back of your hand and stick around for the duration.

The perfect thing to do when riding through a swamp. It’s not like they could go very fast. The road was wide enough for a single cart but not much more, and it wasn’t precisely straight or safe. The horses passed through muddy parts a couple times an hour, and she’d bet parts of the path farther on were in far worse repair. Otherwise, Karel would have brought a cart attached to his packhorse.

Plus, Karel was walking rather than riding, which restricted their speed anyway.

You couldn’t outrun your guide. But you could follow him with magic fire, apparently.

A smile twitched her lips at the thought, surprising her.

She’d been smiling a lot lately, hadn’t she? More than before. Despite everything—the incident with Prince Tarris, her shame, the unofficial exile—she was… happier, somehow.

Temdin. The gates were all broken and demons had invaded. People were dying. Her armor was literally stained from trying to defend them. This wasn’t a happy time.

I just like being useful, that’s all. Nothing more to it.

At some point, the Raidt would catch up with her and put her usefulness back under their purview. Until then, she’d follow this Undersworn duty wherever Nales told her to go.

Was she happier with him than at the Raidt?

She gave her head a small shake. What kind of question was that? Of course she’d be happier back at the Raidt. That’s where her family was. That’s where she was supposed to be.

Though, the thought of becoming Prince Tarris’ personal guard again…

Her jaws locked and Nales’ words came haunting back to her.

‘I know how these things work—I’ve seen it done. You’ll be recalled because they can’t afford to lose your skills, but you are still an embarrassment to the crown. … They’ll pretend nothing is wrong. You’ll go back to your duty as Prince Tarris’ guard, and he’ll order you as he sees fit. I know his type. If he’s like my brother, it won’t be pleasant, nor honorable.’

Honorable. No, Tarris certainly hadn’t acted honorable with her. It had taken a long while to realize that, and it still felt like treason to think. Even more so when she thought of her reaction.

She’d attacked a prince. She was lucky she’d kept her Circle. Some had wanted to boot her right out.

And now, here she was, escorting a Lorkan prince through a marsh and practicing kimbic magic.

Suns, but life was strange sometimes.

She could feel it expanding already, though. Of the three new Kimbic initiates, she had the most advanced study of magic. She’d likely progress the quickest.

Then again, Doneil and Matteo might have a lot more down time. They could easily catch her up.

Elrya. She couldn’t let Doneil get ahead of her.

She focused on the flame above her hand, sinking herself into the warmth of its connection, and willed her mind and body and magic to build the necessary pathways that allowed kimbic to knit its anchors deep.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Quality trumped quantity, right? If she could—

A gods-awful scream tore through her concentration, making her jerk.

The flame vanished.

Ten hells!

She smothered her grumble into a grimace and scanned the surrounding marsh with narrowed eyes.

What had that been?

“Screeching Night Hawk?” she asked.

“It’s daytime,” Doneil said to her.

He still had his flame. Gods damn it all.

“It sounded like a woman,” Nales said.

What kind of women did he know who would make that kind of noise?

Memories of Abiermar’s screams came tumbling back to her and she winced, glad she hadn’t given voice to the thought.

“Could be,” she said. “Some large cats can also sound like that. Karel, are there any around here?”

She doubted it. Her horse had stopped on her command, but the mare’s ears were pricked forward. If it were a predator, she wouldn’t have been so calm.

Then again—this was the same horse she’d charged straight into a pack of attacking demons the day before last.

She tried to reach out more, to let her woodcraft seep into their greater surroundings, but the marsh was not a forest. She was a stranger to it, and it was recalcitrant.

Of anyone here, it would favor Karel. And not just for his water-Fey ancestry—he spent a lot of time here.

“They are around, but I haven’t seen them.” Like her, he was staring out over the marsh with his eyes narrowed. He paused, searching more—and yes, his expression had morphed similar to that mid-range focus she recognized from searching her own woodcraft—and his eyes narrowed further, lips pressing into a thin line. “More likely a Night Hawk.”

He didn’t seem that concerned. Given his healing shop in town, she suspected he’d be one of the first to try and rescue someone in distress.

“Let’s keep going,” she said, nudging her horse forward again. Remembering her doused flame, she turned in her saddle and reached back. “Nales, can you—”

She stopped when she caught a good look at Matteo’s face. The man seemed preoccupied, and more than a little pale.

“Matteo?” she asked. “Are you okay?”

He looked up at her, brows furrowed in distracted concentration. His flame was still lit, dancing a quiet flicker above his outstretched palm.

“Is okay,” Doneil said to him soothingly. “Sound is not a woman. Is a bird.”

Somehow, she doubted it was the bird that had caused Matteo’s distraction.

“Matteo?” she asked again. “Problem?”

He looked up at her again, brow furrowed. His jaw worked, as if he were chewing on something.

After a moment, he came to some kind of decision.

“Brain machine awake again. Might be… Maybe Friend.”

She sat taller. “Maybe Friend is back?”

His people were here? One of them, anyway?

Were they in the place Karel had found?

Matteo shrugged. “I don’t know. I try find out.”

*****

[Connection found. Do you wish to connect? Y/N]

He barely heard what the others were saying. Something about lions and eagles. They didn’t seem worried, so he left it to them.

All his focus was on his HUD.

In a second, he’d dived into its software, snapping open programs and snatching the segment of his connection history he’d tagged for later.

This time, he was prepared.

[Y]

[Connection requested. Connecting… Connecting…]

[Connection successful.]

[Pull connection tag ‘Maybe Friend’]

[Run diagnostic.]

[‘Maybe Friend’ not found. Do you wish to try again?]

[Network request: Guardian Force datalog.]

[Guardian Force datalog uploading.]

Wait, what? Why was it accessing his datalog?

[Command: Network ID.]

[Network ID: GUARDIAN_FORCE_0802340; connection=local, ground; connection area=TN_SUMNER_01; time connected=00:00:23; signal strength=medium; protocol=8A; Security type=ENCRYPTED 12; address=ROAM2; …]

Matteo stared at the data scroll, stunned.

He was connected to the Guardian Force network? And it was retreiving his reports. Of course it was—that’s what it was programmed to do. It—

But how? It’s not they’d installed a series of Guardian Force-identical satellites above this world in the past five minutes. Then again, looking at the data, this wasn’t a satellite signal. It was a ground relay.

So… there was a ground signal coming to him somehow? Relayed from the satellite network?

…how?

Whatever. Only one thing for it.

Emergency beacon. Now.

[Command: Emergency b…]

Halfway through, he hesitated.

Was that really the best thing to do right now?

[Error: Command not recognized. Please try again.]

He let the message fall away, thinking. If he set the HUD’s emergency beacon, it’d override certain controls and broadcast its FIND ME signal for anyone with a networked device to pick up—which was exactly the point of it.

Did he want that?

What if the unidentified ‘Maybe Friend’ picked it up? What if they weren’t a friendly?

Then again, what if they were already in the network?

Grinding his teeth, he shook the fire from his hand and rolled his shoulders. Then, he sent a very quick, very urgent message to his team, his commanding officer, and the Nashville Guardian Force headquarters.

<>

Of course something happened. Either the entire world got smashed into random pieces, which they were currently investigating, or he was extremely delusional and stuck in some endless hallucination.

Whatever. He had no idea how long this connection would last. He sent the message, part of him tracking its upload through the server.

If the connection held, he’d send another, longer message. Something more professional.

If not, that would have to do.

Belatedly, he realized someone was trying to talk to him. Catrin. She looked concerned.

He stared up at her dumbly.

“Is okay,” Doneil said to him. “Sound is not a woman. Is a bird.”

Oh. He’d forgotten all about the scream. And the fire.

He glanced down. The flame was still flickering above his hand, a warm, dancing presence.

Now that he was looking at it, he could feel the magic working. Like it was making a pathway into his body.

He wasn’t sure what he thought of that.

Twenty minutes ago, he’d been fine with it. Now? It felt like some foreign worm, painlessly digging its way through his skin.

“Matteo?” Catrin asked again. “Problem?”

Yeah, there was a problem. Home was nowhere to be seen, but he apparently had a direct comms access to its network. Through a ground station. And—

[Connection found. Do you wish to connect? Y/N]

His heart froze. Had it disconnected? He scrambled, sifting through to make sure the message had sent—

Wait. His HUD was still… connected?

Yep. Still connected and downloading packets from whatever ground relay it had found access to here in elf land.

What the hell, then?

[Command: Report.]

[Report: Unknown user ‘Maybe Friend’ is online. Do you wish to connect? Y/N]

Huh.

Was Maybe Friend also connected to the network?

Screw it.

[Y]

[Error: Security platform not recognized. Communication unit not recognized. Identification not recognized. Proceed with caution.]

Yeah, yeah, yeah…

He’d just done a possibly demonic ritual to hold fire in his hand. He’d lost ‘caution’ some time ago.

<>

God. At this point, he really, really hoped this wasn’t a hallucination and he was actually trapped on a different planet. Otherwise, he did not want to have to explain that message to Guardian Force Command.

He sent a command to his HUD to download as much as possible from the network—a large packet seemed to be attempting a download—then turned his attention back to Catrin.

How to explain?

“Brain machine awake again. Might be…” God. He sounded like a Kindergartner. “Maybe Friend.”

She sat taller. “Maybe Friend is back?”

He waited a moment, seeing if Maybe Friend would give him an answer this time, then shrugged. “I don’t know. I try find out.”

Catrin nodded. Then, she and Karel exchanged some quick words, only part of which he caught. Something to do with distance and forest.

Catrin turned back to him.

“He says it is close. We go look.”