Stinging sand pelted Cortain as he pushed on through the storm. Thousands of abrasive grains permeated his clothes and face covering to grind against his skin, rubbing it raw. It was the third sandstorm in as many days. A muffled curse escaped his lips.

By the gods, this is miserable.

The beauty of the Eastlands, seen from a distance, was an illusion. All he had found so far was blistering sand in the heat of the day, plummeting temperatures in the evening, and the bite of storms whipping the sand into a frenzy. Throughout it all, his underlying thirst added to his irritation. So far, the Eastlands had not left a good first impression.

Cortain was starting to wonder if there was something to Tomean's mad musings; he'd been raving recently about a plot unfolding against their close-knit trio. Fillas had been sent to the mountains, Cortain to the sands of Ghalafein, and Tomean had been awaiting his assignment when Cortain had left. It did seem as if someone was trying to split them up.

I wonder where Tomean will end up?

He let his mind wander back to when their friendship began, hoping to distract himself from the vicious sand. Five years prior, they had all met at the tower. They never spoke about the testing, but the experience had forged the first bond between them, bonds they had built upon over the years.

As the wind howled, Cortain could barely see past his own nose. Squinting, he leaned forward, pushing against the wind. The sand chafed in places sand should never be, souring his mood further.

Jewel of the Desert? Bah! Sunsadar, his eventual destination, had other, less favourable nicknames, but its self-proclaimed moniker meant City of the Wanderer in the native tongue of the Sunean people.

His knowledge on the desert people was limited, but if memory served him, the great wars hadn’t reached them yet. It seemed a foregone conclusion that it would embroil every nation on every continent eventually, especially if Tomean was right, if greater forces were at work.

Again, Cortain was tempted to use his arts to lessen the effects of the storm. But, as strong as he was, he couldn’t maintain an energy shield long enough to thwart the weather. Even if he could, it would leave him monstrously weak if he were to come under attack. Not to mention it would draw unwanted attention to himself.

Life in the desert was harsh, but he would endure its fickle ways for a short time until his mission was completed. His foot slipped as the sand drifted, and he gritted his teeth, pushing his straining muscles to their limits.

This is your own fault. Too stupid and prideful to accept that offer of a mount and a guide. He snarled as he reprimanded himself.

Trusting his sense of direction, he continued onwards.

* * *

With the storm settled, albeit temporarily, a cloaked group watched the lone figure battle his way through the sand drifts. They had watched him from the moment he stepped foot on the first dune at the edge of their lands. His identity was not a mystery; they knew him for who he was: a member of the Elemental Order. They'd been expecting him.

They crouched behind the protection of a rocky outcrop. The Stone protrusions resembling the tops of great towers marked the landscape, as if the sands had buried several once mighty fortresses.

Masked figures arrived and communicated with hand signals. Sounds had the tendency to carry where they were least wanted. The newcomers had come on sturdy desert mounts. The horses were too precious to be risked on what had to happen next. The group secured their beasts to stakes in the ground and made their way into the desert on foot. Their clothes, bound tightly around their bodies, were designed to keep them cool in the blistering heat and keep out the irritating sand. They prowled forward, weapons ready; it was time to attack.

* * *

Cortain's sixth sense had long ago alerted him to the fact that he had company.

Raiders, no doubt.

Pushing his awareness out, he waited for the tell-tale ripples across the backdrop of his magic that showed he wasn’t alone. The ability to expand a probing aura was rare, according to his teachers. A gift, perhaps, from the testing. As he grew in arcane might, his aura's range increased.

Several signals soon came rippling back. Like a spider in its web, he felt them coming for him, and he soon found their minds in the cognitive realm.

They were trained, at least in mental warfare, and their minds were coiled tight. But they weren’t mages, and their minds leaked bits of information. Using his own mentalism, he snatched these errant fragments of thoughts. They revealed little, but their determination came through clearly.

Mind reading was a basic skill for any mage worth their salt. Even those without magic trained their minds to shield their innermost self from a thought thief. Mentalism encompassed many powers, some more rare than others. Mind reading and telepathic communication were basic. The advanced skills included infiltrating secure mind fortresses or overpowering blocked thoughts.

He was better at skimming minds than delving deeper into them. A deep delve had its own dangers and left the unwary and inexperienced at the mercy of the minds they invaded. Cortain preferred to dip into surface thoughts. It had taken a lot of work just to barely surpass average abilities, but the skill was invaluable, especially in combat. While much of combat was instinctual training responses from a lifetime of drills, he could foresee the cues for his opponent's attacks before their blade was in motion. In the right circumstances, he could adapt accordingly and avoid being struck.

A stray thought came to him, seeping from the mind of one of his attackers.

Vipers.

That word gave him pause. His vague orders had included the directive to travel to a city in the desert and seek a group known as the Desert Vipers. Once he found them, they were to have further instructions for him. He had been given a list of places wherein he might find the Desert Vipers, but due to the shifting currents of politics in Sunsadar, their presence was not guaranteed.

Could they have found me?

He sensed from one excited mind that their orders were to capture him alive. With only seconds to decide, he landed on a course of action.

Least if I’m wrong, it will be a good fight.

* * *

They approached their mark at full speed. This was their desert, and navigating storms was a part of everyday life.

Once in position, they pounced, moving like devils through the swirling sand. They found the lone figure kneeling, weapons sheathed as if he waited for them. Concealing their surprise at the lack of resistance, they quickly disarmed him, binding his arms behind him and then dragging him to his feet. They led him away.

* * *

Marwa sat at ease with four others, forming a circle around the prisoner. The others had left as soon as he had been secured and delivered to the predetermined location. Her people remained wrapped in their battle attire, cloth coverings still hiding their faces, all but the eyes.

She'd exchanged many puzzled glances with her companions. The man bound in their midst seemed unconcerned with their comings and goings. It was making the others nervous.

Marwa stood and approached him, removing her face covering as she did. The others were unwilling to reveal their identities. The reputation of the Desert Vipers was built on anonymity. The outside world saw them as wraiths striking from the shadows, killing with impunity before vanishing as quickly as they had appeared.

Showing her face was a gamble, but Marwa was making a calculated risk. If he was from the Elemental Order, he could kill them all easily. The fact he hadn’t suggested he had an inkling of who they were. If he wasn’t a mage, she was in no real danger. Her blade would mete out swift death in that case. Crouching in front of him, she studied his eyes.

No fear in this one.

The great magical orders of the world fascinated her. He was a trained warrior, of that there was no doubt. He knew how to use his two curved swords; they were very similar to those the Vipers carried.

But what can you do with your magic?

Already, she had noted the careful way he had appraised them. His quick, dark eyes missed nothing, and she wagered he had already planned his escape should things take a bad turn for him. But her instincts told her he was not a threat. She would trust her gut for now and hope he hadn’t bewitched her in some way.

She saw strength in his eyes. The man nodded to her, as if acknowledging her observations. She pursed her lips, narrowing her eyes before standing and turning her back on him. Other matters awaited her, and she quickened her step.

* * *

Grinning, he watched the woman walk away. The sway of her hips captured his attention. Even covered as she was in her desert garb, her curves were obvious.

The others pointedly ignored him, as if waiting for something or someone. He grew tired of the tirade. The woman who'd approached him with her face uncovered had been the only interesting part of his capture.

His life over the last five years had been eventful, but even in the lulls between missions, he always had his two brothers to keep it interesting. This tedium of waiting for someone else to act when he could just free himself and walk away gnawed at him.

Skimming their minds didn’t help. Whoever had trained them had done a good job. When they'd come for him, none had let anything informative slip, perhaps due to the lack of distraction a battle would have brought.

Again, he considered delving into their minds, breaking through their defences to search the halls of their minds, but the risk was too great. With the right training, even those without magic could have a dangerous mind.

Tomean would have already done it by now.

But he was not Tomean. Closing his eyes, he worked through a series of exercises to clear his thoughts and centre himself while he waited.

* * *

Machieve observed his Vipers from the crest of the dune. Through his meagre ability, he could sense them below. Their prisoner outshone them.

The stranger was clearly humouring them; he was only a prisoner by choice. For one shining so bright, overcoming his Vipers wouldn't be a problem. The mage could overpower Machieve, too, if given the chance, despite his skill.

But could he fight us all off before a blade found his ribs? He hoped to never find out the answer to that. The Elementals had a reputation, just as the Desert Vipers did; it was why he petitioned them.

Machieve picked out strength and resolve from the man's fierce aura. He was convinced of his identity, but there could be no doubt.

The intensity of the storm had lessened, but reprieves never lasted long this deep in the desert. Still, Machieve maintained an energy field, an impenetrable bubble of protection that guarded against more than just sand; it staved off prying eyes and auras. He allowed himself such small comforts from time to time. But as with all things involving magic, it came at a cost. This spell was simple, and he could maintain it for some time, but with a sigh he released the energy field. If the man wasn’t who Machieve hoped he was, every scrap of magic he could muster would be needed if he hoped to survive. The bite of the sand assaulted him again, as it met no further resistance. He navigated the perils of the steep dune, descending toward the rocky shelter below.

* * *

The dissipation of energy was faint but close. Someone approached on the periphery of his aura. There was more to this one; he was a leader, perhaps. Cortain flirted with the boundaries of the person's mind but found he could not even skim their thoughts.

Here’s one with which I should use caution.

Not wishing to test this person further, he waited, watching with his mundane senses. Within the small, corralled area of stone, there was only one opening that served as an entrance.

Another fully garbed warrior emerged, a man from his build. The uncovered female from earlier walked by his side. They conferred in low tones.

His second?

From the brief snatches that made it to his ears, he deduced it was a desert dialect of some sort. The others in the group offered respectful nods as their leader passed but remained seated.

Finally, some progress.

With the man’s face still covered, Cortain studied his deep, brown eyes, recognizing within the mettle of a warrior.

The man removed his face covering, revealing a clean-shaven face of middle to late years. “Agent of the Elemental Order, I have a proposition for you.”

* * *

“Let me introduce myself.” Machieve announced, “My name is Machieve. Maybe you’ve heard of me, no?”

The man shook his head.

“Well," Machieve continued, "I am the leader of the Desert Vipers. I’m sure you at least recognize that name?”

“Yes, your reputation precedes you. Not all of it good, I hasten to add, but how can I be sure you are who you say you are?”

Machieve felt a flash of white-hot anger quickening his heartbeat, passion bursting through his veins He crouched, staring back at the mage. “What is your name?”

“Cortain.”

“Well, Cortain, whatever ill stories you have heard are lies. They are all lies. Propaganda to turn people away from our cause. It pains me to hear you speak of such things. I had hoped the rest of the world would know the truth.” Cooling his temper, he sat cross-legged before the bound man. “We are not the villains. No, what we do is for the good of the true desert people, and we only seek to break the yoke of oppression around our necks. Let me tell the truth of the matter.”

Machieve continued, explaining the history and the political climate in Sunsadar. As he retold some of the perverse actions committed by the so-called council in the name of power, he clenched his fist.

“Children as hostages! That’s how they enforce their will upon the people. How is that right?” Machieve implored.

“It’s not,” Cortain said. “Children are innocent, and by the gods, there isn’t much left of that in today’s world.”

Machieve nodded.

“But I am but one man, Machieve," Cortain continued, "I represent the Elemental Order; I cannot fight a war for you as I am sure you know.”

“We share common values," Machieve said, nodding. "And you are right. As powerful as you may be, you are but one man. I don’t need an army. I already have one. But I do need help when it comes to our children.”

“And you turned to the Order.”

“And I turned to the Order.” Machieve echoed and nodded. “I have taken it as far as I can alone. My people bleed every day, and it must end before our bloodlines are ended forever. Will you help me fight this evil? Will you help me rescue our children?”

“Open yourself up to me. Let me read the truth of what you say in more than just words. If you speak the truth, then you will have my help.”

Machieve frowned and considered the personal nature of the request. To bare his soul to another was anathema to him. But he had no choice.

“It is done.” He lowered his defences. He felt the brush of the mage's touch inside his mind and then the cool sensation of a foreign presence browsing his thoughts. Cortain withdrew after only moments.

“Yes,” Cortain said, “I will help you save your children.”

* * *

His word given, the Elemental was unbound, and they broke camp. Two days' travel found Cortain safely inside the city. The Vipers knew the quickest route to take and had spare mounts hidden in another redoubt. Again, Cortain cursed himself for not having his own.

The city was unremarkable as far as he was concerned. They entered under cover of darkness, and his view was limited to the blocky sandstone wall that marked its perimeter. Stone was a precious commodity, and they used most of it in defence of the city. The remaining structures were made of timber and cloth.

Once inside, Machieve told him they would wait one more day before attempting the rescue. Cortain pushed for more time in order to better prepare, but his assertion only bought him one additional day. It would have to be enough.

The morning rays rose as quickly as the temperature. The nights were bitter and the days blistering. They had hunkered down in a shelter on the edges of the city, far away from the ruling caste. The faded hue of the wood and the bleached colours of the cloth highlighted the structure's need of repair, but it would suit their needs.

The woman who had revealed her face to him out in the desert brought him breakfast that first morning in the city. He graciously accepted the thin, round circles of bread and spicy vegetables. It wasn't his usual choice, but he found it enjoyable nonetheless.

“Are you to be my guide today?” he asked her.

“I am.”

“Well, let me properly introduce myself. I’m Cortain of the—”

“I know who you are.”

“Well, in that case you have me at a disadvantage, as I don’t know who you are.” He flashed her his best smile.

Nothing? He swallowed a rising lump in his throat.

Her expression remained hardened, but after a moment of silence, she answered. “I am Marwa.”

“Nice to meet you, Marwa. Do you know much about the city?”

“I know enough.”

Well, this is going to be a barrel of laughs.

“When can we leave?” he asked.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

With a sigh, he wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “Anywhere I can go relieve myself? Then I’ll be ready to go.”

Marwa's eye twitched. “Bilal!” she shouted, “show ‘em where he can take a piss.”

Inside, Cortain winced at the comment, but remained motionless as he waited. His preconceptions of women were probably not suited to this land.

I would do well to remember that.

The toilet was a clay pot behind a cloth curtain. Once finished, he beckoned for Marwa to take the lead.

“Here, change into this.” She shoved a bundle of clothes into his arms. Seeing his confused look, she smiled. “If you want to scout the city, best not do so in outlander clothing.” She shooed him with a wave of her hand. “Hurry up. I don't have all day.”

Minutes later, the two of them took to the streets. Self-conscious in the unfamiliar desert robes, Cortain kept his face covered. The shemagh — the bundle of cloth wrapped around his head and face — cooled him more than he'd expected. And though dressed differently, he still had his swords and his magic; he was far from defenceless.

The morning sun beat down, hot upon his back. Walking through the sand-covered streets, the strained atmosphere became palpable. The common folk moved with rigid motions, their frightened eyes only occasionally daring to survey their surroundings.

The council has inspired fear even in the simple act of daily chores. The thought sickened Cortain. Machieve had revealed one man in particular was responsible for maintaining the oppression over the desert people. Without him, the council would likely ease their most brutal policies.

“Let’s get to the heart of all this. Show me the fortifications as best you can.”

Marwa nodded in reply, and they walked deeper into the city.

* * *

They returned just after midday. To be out when the sun was at its zenith would only attract unwanted attention. The rising heat forced almost everyone to take shelter from the harsh rays.

Cortain sat, panting slightly, and Marwa positioned herself opposite him.

“This place is ready to go up like a powder keg of Amnian Fire.”

“What’s that?” Marwa asked.

“Something you never want to see.”

Marwa raised one dark eyebrow at his words but remained quiet.

Cortain heaved a sigh. “Amnian fire is a particularly nasty concoction that can’t be put out by mundane means. It will only extinguish when it has consumed its oily fuel source. Or magic, of course.”

“Of course.” Marwa continued to stare at him as if waiting for more information.

Cortain shifted and cleared his throat. “The saying means that it feels like this city would explode if the right catalyst were introduced.”

Marwa flashed him a smile. “I am not a barbarian. I’ve heard of Amnian Fire.”

He held back a frustrated sigh. She sure enjoys throwing me off.

They sat a while longer, and Cortain thought through their foray into the city. Once he'd seen the conditions in the streets and felt the tension in the air, he'd been glad he had already agreed to help. The city needed it. The average citizen suffered while the rich and powerful lived in luxury. That alone was normal enough, but the ways in which the rich kept their power — inspiring fear and threatening the most innocent — was a special brand of evil. He couldn’t fight a war for the Desert Vipers, but he could certainly tip things in their favour. It could get him in trouble; he planned to spin it as simply saving the lives of children, but the act would eliminate the only barrier keeping the Desert Vipers from striking.

Damn the Order’s neutrality. I’ll deal with that later. They shouldn’t have sent me if they didn’t want me to intervene. He rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a whoosh of air. As long as the rescue goes as planned, I can claim to have walked a fine line without stepping over it.

Cortain wasn’t convinced that Machieve's intelligence was recent enough to warrant the Viper leader's schemes. He'd insisted Machieve corroborate the information a second time before they raided the location where the children were said to be. Cortain had no way of assessing the veracity of Machieve's sources; he had to trust him, and that wasn't going to be easy. They only had one shot to get the children back. Failure was not an option.

We won’t fail. I won't fail.

The arrogance of his thought struck Cortain and made him blush. He heard his master's voice reminding him he knew little compared to those who had trained him.

Don’t let your ego go to your head. Tomean and Fillas aren’t here. No need to show off or get cocky.

They were the words he needed to hear, even if he had to tell them to himself. With that, he calmed his racing thoughts and fancies. With Marwa as his guide, his reconnaissance of the city proved more enjoyable than expected. She had a quick, dry wit about her, and more than once, she'd delivered delightful, sarcastic blows to his detriment.

Knowing he had a roving eye for beautiful, intelligent women, he tried to concentrate on the problem at hand. How he could help, and how he could do so with minimum backlash for the Order?

He had a few more hours to rest before they would need to continue their scouting mission. It was essential they gather as much information as possible before nightfall. Afterward, Cortain could make his plans and suggestions.

For the time being, he closed his eyes. Even with the heat of the midday sun, he was asleep in minutes.

* * *

Later that evening, Machieve, Marwa, and a few other Vipers sat around a small fire as Cortain walked them through his plans one more time. It was straightforward enough. According to Machieve, a company of twenty of the council’s elite warriors — Sunsadar's finest warriors outside the Vipers themselves — guarded their children.

"If at all possible," Machieve had said, "we should avoid a head-on confrontation in the presence of the children."

Cortain had frowned. "You realize we may not have a choice in the matter?"

The leader of the Vipers had nodded solemnly. "I do. But as far as it depends on us, we must protect their minds as well as their bodies."

"Agreed." Cortain had kept his thoughts to himself, that it would be nearly impossible to shield the little ones from the violence ahead. Instead, he'd moved on to the next part of the conversation. "The compound will need to be secured quickly, which can only be achieved through the element of surprise."

"We'll need you for that," Machieve had said. "With you at the helm, with your magic, we will succeed. Are you up for the challenge?"

Cortain had rid himself of his ego, answering honestly. "I believe so, but there are no guarantees. I am only one man, with or without magic."

Machieve had seemed satisfied with his words, and Cortain worried the Viper would place too much faith in him.

And now it all bloody hinges on me. The raid will have to be lightning fast.

Machieve would lead the initial attack, but Cortain would oversee their reserve forces. It sounded simple, but if things went south, which was inevitable, it would be down to him to lead a rescue and turn the tides of battle.

And here’s me saying I can’t fight a war on my own. Bloody typical. I should have kept my mouth shut. But then thoughts of children held captive made him sigh. He would never be able to ignore the evils done by the council.

As they discussed where they would take the children afterwards, Cortain found his mind drifting. In his mind’s eye, he pictured scenario after scenario of how their plan could go wrong, coming up with counter actions and spells that would keep them on track. He silently spoke Words of Power, allowing magic to flow freely.

He would not be unprepared for battle.

* * *

They moved out before first light. The compound was located outside the city walls where hard-eyed warriors closely guarded the area. With the location known for some time, Machieve had already plotted a route to avoid sentries. But much to Cortain's relief, he would still send scouts ahead to deal with unexpected guards on their chosen path.

Cortain planned to perch nearby, the men under his command waiting with him in the midst of rock and sand. With a little help from his magic, he would be watching Machieve's assault so he could rush to their aid should the need arise.

Machieve had summoned fifty warriors, and each were dressed in their desert war garb. Cloth wrapped around their bodies and faces left only their smouldering, vengeful eyes visible. Cortain had wondered at their lack of armour until Marwa had set him straight. Under their garb, they wore hardened hide, fitted to their bodies for protection. It was nowhere near as effective as the hulking plates of armour belonging to cooler climates, but it would stave off the slash of a blade.

Machieve approached as the time came for them to commence their attack. “Thank you for agreeing to this. May Shimla shine upon us today.”

Cortain had no idea who Shimla was, but he nodded respectfully, nonetheless. “Indeed.”

He grasped Machieve's forearm in a warrior's salute. No other words were needed between them. With a nod, Machieve turned and signalled his group to follow. With silent footsteps, they descended upon the compound as the sun’s rays struck its wooden structure. Its wall would prove no obstacle to the Vipers.

Leaving his forces near the base of the rock, Cortain climbed to the top of the formation. He settled in a shallow hollow to watch and wait. The compound was too far for his human eyes to make out much detail.

Channelling a scrap of magic, he wove invisible strands of air, creating a circular area that enhanced his view of the compound. The predawn glow hampered him, the light insufficient for clarity. But between magnifying the scene and slipping into his ethereal form, he was confident he could monitor the situation.

Watching and waiting, he remembered the teachings from one of his very first war lessons. The teacher had read from an ancient, dusty tome written by some long dead Master of War in an archaic tongue. But its meaning was clear and widely acknowledged within any theatre of war: no plan survives first contact with the enemy. So, Cortain would wait, ready to adapt as needed to ensure victory was theirs.

He wasn’t the most avid pupil during those lessons, and the strategies needed on a grander scale of war were beyond him.

But I can manage this. I must, he thought firmly.

Dawn came quickly. With it, he could make out the Vipers as they reached the wall. Using his telescopic twist of air, he watched as they scaled the barrier and dropped into the compound beyond. It didn’t take long before the alarm sounded; the clash of battle ensued. From such a distance, he had no way of spotting Machieve unless he changed the orientation and enhancement of the far-seeing spell. But that would take too long. For the time being, all he could do was hope luck was on their side.

* * *

Machieve moved with icy determination. Once the children were secure, he could progress his plans for making the rest of Sunsadar safe. His people would be able to forge their own destiny once freed from the tyranny that oppressed them.

In that moment, he could not have been prouder of his warriors. The Desert Vipers moved with fluid grace; they were silent killers focused on the mission. Each of them would give their life for their cause, for each other. He hoped it wouldn't come to that as he led them into battle.

Their mission was about trust. Not in his warriors to do what they must, but in the source of his information. He would be a fool if he hadn’t considered the prospect that this was all an elaborate trap, a betrayal weeks in the making, but his source hadn’t let him down yet. Still, he offered a silent prayer to Shimla that his instincts had not betrayed him.

So far, they had met little resistance; the soldiers they had encountered were quickly neutralised. There was only one major building in the compound, large and made of cloth and wood. Most of Sunsadar was constructed of similar structures, and the familiarity helped their causes. They spread from room to room, checking every nook and cranny. Apprehension grew as they encountered no more guards. Worse, there were no children. It was empty.

Have they already moved, or is the trap about to be sprung? He clung to hope, but fear steadily grew within, causing his heartbeat to quicken.

The central room was empty, save a trapdoor in the floor. He strained to sense what lay beyond, using his own weak gift. He held his curved blade at the ready, approaching with cautioned steps. He paused as the faintest impression of danger imprinted upon his mind. And then the impression grew rapidly as if reacting to his approach. Machieve barely had time to cry out in warning as a surge of power swelled beneath the floorboards. But his sound of alarm came too late. The room exploded from the bottom up.

Reflexes borne of a life spent fighting were all that saved him. As red strands of explosive magic sought to consume him, he raised an energy shield, channelling all his strength into protecting himself and his people. A blue nimbus shield shimmered to life to contend with the violent burst of magic.

While his shield took the brunt of the attack, the resulting shock wave batted him and the others across the room. The cloth walls, taut though they were, had enough give in them to prevent further injury. His body was cradled by the barrier briefly before fell to the ground with a thud.

* * *

Focused as he was on the compound, the surge of magic from its centre hit Cortain with some intensity. The flare indicated a trap had been set, and minutes later, a large company of men began pouring over a dune in the near distance. They were charging the compound.

Cortain's heart jumped into his throat. The trap had been a signal for enemy troops. “Oh, crap!”

Changing the telescopic twist of air, he focused on the enemy force. Each was clad in the livery of the city’s standing army. Their uniforms resembled those of the Vipers, but the colours were different and the construction of their clothes were billowing instead of formfitting. Some were armed with long pikes; others bore the large, curved blades popular in all of Sunsadar.

Cortain scrambled down from his nest, shouting to the reserve of Vipers under his command. "Ready, men! We are needed!"

He hit the ground, and the Vipers were ready seconds after he'd made his proclamation. With a bit of luck, they should reach the compound before the enemy. Cortain led the charge. As he ran, he drew his own curved swords. His weapons lacked the flair and opulent etchings of Sunsadar swords, but he would prove them to be every bit as lethal.

* * *

Machieve's shield protected him from the brute force of the explosion but did nothing to assuage the deafening boom. His ears still rung, and a warm wetness tickled his nose and upper lip. He touched it, his fingertips coming away glistening with blood in the morning light.

What happened? His head swam as he blinked away the initial shock. To his right and left, his fellow Vipers groaned.

I've been betrayed. Rage set fire to his veins. He and his source would have to have quick conversation with his blade. But as his head began to clear, he realized he'd lost precious seconds in his attempt to make sense of his predicament.

Warriors in city council colours emerged from the trapdoor. Their faces were covered and their swords unsheathed. Machieve heaved himself to his feet as the soldiers attacked his dazed Vipers.

But the Desert Vipers weren't easy to kill, even when disadvantaged. Machieve and his warriors burst into action. He buried his anger at the betrayal of his inside man and focused on the fight.

Using his own limited abilities, he cast bolts of energy at the emerging men. The sound of sizzling flesh and screams seemed a distant echo to his compromised ears. He tried to sense the most dangerous of his enemies — whoever had cast the spell — but he or she wasn't in their midst.

Machieve struck the closest soldier with his blade. The sharp edge found flesh and slashed the man's neck wide open. A red mist sprayed the area, but Machieve was already moving. He knew a killing blow when he landed one. His curved sword became a deadly blur as he landed blow after blow, dancing through his enemies. His companions did the same, using their elegant, smooth fighting style to flow like water through the cracks, moving quickly, taking advantage of every angle.

Even as he lived in the moment, a thought occurred to him that these were not the elite guards he had been expecting. He killed the man in front of him. A few seconds were afforded him, every other person still alive engaged with another. Machieve frowned at the lack of numbers and skill amongst their enemy. And then it hit him:

This is a diversion.

He would have planned it exactly the same if the roles been reversed.

We need to get out of here.

With his hearing almost returned, he waved his bloodied blade into the air.

“Vipers, on me!” His command rallied his warriors.

* * *

The fighting only lasted a few minutes, but in that time of frenzied combat, the cloth walls and hard-packed floor were stained with crimson. The Vipers left no one alive. Machieve wiped his blade clean on the body of a fallen soldier as Cortain burst into the room.

“How many more are coming?” Machieve asked.

“Too many for us to handle alone. They were waiting for that explosion over the next rise. We don’t have long before the compound is swarming with them.” Cortain panted for breath. “Hold your ground as best you can. I’ll see if I can even things out.”

“What will you do?”

“Make it rain in this gods forsaken desert.” Cortain had a wild look in his eye. “I could use help, if you can spare one warrior?”

“Marwa!” Machieve shouted. “Go with him and help where you can.”

* * *

Cortain watched Marwa — face covered and curves accentuated beneath her battle garb — step forward. She was breathing hard but was uninjured. With a nod, he turned to examine the wooden supports of the building. The structure wasn’t much more than a timber frame with canvas stretched over it.

He studied the supports. The timber rose to about twice his height, all around the room, supporting beams slanting upward, spokes ending in a smaller wooden circle high above them at the centre of the room. The canvas hugged the frame from the outside, but it was only secured at the joints. He was able to wrap his hands around the supports. It would suit his needs.

He scaled the support from the inside, and then shimmied his way to the centre, his legs dangling. Cortain swung his feet to find purchase on another spoke, sweating, limbs trembling with the effort of holding his own weight. He sliced open the centre circle nearby and heaved himself through to open air, straddling the beam from which he'd previously been hanging.

This should work. He took in the view of the oncoming attack and prepared to work his magic.

Time was of the essence. Casting out his awareness, he was able to better pinpoint the rush of incoming soldiers. Working magic was easier when in his ethereal state; it distanced him from the distractions of his flesh. But it did leave his physical form vulnerable to attack. He sensed Marwa climb up next to him, and he could feel an uneasiness emanating from her.

Afraid of heights, maybe?

He returned some of his focus to his body to speak to Marwa. “When I start all this, I’m going to be a target. If they have anyone worth their salt, I’m likely to come under fire, either magical or otherwise. Can you handle it?”

"Of course I can," Marwa said.

“Good.”

Cortain began drawing in the raw energy around him. He shaped the spell within his mind. The skill of any mage lay in his ability to manifest such constructs into reality.

As he layered magic into it, he added runes to symbolise the distinct elements of the spell. These magic sigils formed his intent as he weaved the Power into something new. The complex pattern blazed in his mind's eye; the golden energy yearned to leave his inner sanctum. Once he judged it was strong enough for the task ahead, he shouted the closing Words of Power that brought his magical intent into the realms of flesh and blood.

Holding his hands together, he pointed them skywards. With his consciousness parted from his body, he was able to glance back at himself. His eyes blazed with golden light; orange and yellow bolts shot into the heavens above. The sky crackled with Power and darkened under a gathering of clouds. Peels of thunder rang out, and orange lightning forked across the sky.

Lightning struck into the heart of the advancing soldiers. Arrows made of pure energy rained upon them, killing and injuring without impunity.

As predicted, their own mages returned fire, and one of them was strong enough to trace the source of the raging sky. A fire bolt manifested above, arcing toward his location. With his astral vision, he could see the magical signature of the mage who cast it. The spell was basic, but it would still kill Cortain if its aim was true.

A weak surge of power flared from behind him. Marwa was concentrating, and a moment later, a shield of magic appeared in the path of the oncoming fire bolt. There was a bright red flash, but the shield held as the fire ball dissipated.

Cortain observed Marwa in his ethereal state, perceiving her in a different light. For such a small amount of magic, the shield was powerful. He was surprised and awed at the same time. His physical expression took on his emotions, and Marwa glanced at him. She shrugged, the hint of a smile turning up the corners of her mouth. He grinned before turning his full attention back on the soldiers.

With his spell still raging in the clouds above, he looked to the enemy mages. A duel between them could go one of many ways. It could be all-out chaos or a tactical dance. He could be pitting himself against one of equal strength, or he could find more than one mage of lesser strengths. At the moment, he couldn’t gauge his opponent’s strengths or how many mages were among his enemies.

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Using a simple illusion, he peppered the area with small darts of blue light. They were harmless, but they looked the part. He hoped they would be mistaken for something more dangerous, encouraging mages to dispel them.

He saved his strength as he watched carefully. He sensed at least two mages, though he hadn't identified them both. His position was marked, and he was running out of time as they went on the offensive.

Fancy spell work went out the window, and the mages below resorted to flinging spears of deadly magic. Marwa continued to deflect their attacks.

The rain of fire was fizzling out above Cortain. The raw magic used to create it was almost spent. He lacked the skill to make his construct self-sustaining. But its fiery arrows had thinned their enemy's ranks and forced many to take cover.

As the magical fight continued and the Desert Vipers joined the fight on the ground, Cortain sensed a third mage. Whoever it was lacked Cortain's power and experience , and their helper was not as skilled as Marwa. Despite that, Cortain and Marwa couldn’t stay still for long. The Vipers were facing the elite soldiers they'd expected from the outset, and it looked to be a challenging battle. Their enemy was proving a worthy adversary.

What would Tomean do? Cortain wondered. He'd do something wild, unexpected… That wasn't his strong suit, but he drew inspiration from his friend.

“Marwa, do you fancy having a little more fun?”

“Is this not enough for you?” Marwa said, deflecting another bolt.

“My friend, Tomean, says there’s always more fun to be had.”

“If we survive this, we will have a little chat about what you call fun, and my knife will have a few words to add, I think.” Her expression was completely serious.

His smile became wooden. Does she mean that?

Not wishing to lose the war of words, he replied over his shoulder as he clambered down the timber frame. “I’m looking forward to it, my little sand princess.” He smiled at her softly worded curse.

* * *

Taqi glared down at the compound. His brilliant ambush was turning into a crushing defeat, and worse still, Machieve had eluded him. He could feel his old mentor somewhere below. Unable to avenge his dead son, he seethed, his mood bitter and vengeful.

What should have been a glorious day was now turning into a disaster. Instead of stamping out the Desert Vipers, he was not only losing men, but he would be forced to stand before the council. That wasn't something he could afford.

Someone new assisted Machieve. The newcomer was strong in magic, and his signature was unfamiliar.

So, who have you enticed to your side?

The lethal rain of magic ceased, but the damage was done. The element of surprise gone; the firestorm granted the Vipers time to rally. They had broken the charge of his soldiers. What angered Taqi more, though, was his inability to do anything about it.

He traced the spell to the thick of the battle, but it was difficult to make out details at first. Once his attack, and those of his fellow mages, was thwarted, he focused on the newcomer's helper; there was something more familiar about that signature.

Marwa.

He had once dreamed about her beautiful, dark locks and her warrior’s body, but he'd barely been a man back then. She'd made it clear: his attention was unwanted. He shook his head, clearing the memories.

The one thing the desert tribes lacked was an array of magical talent. The gifts that did blossom amongst the arid wastelands were weak compared to those of the rest of the world. And so the strength of Machieve’s ally concerned Taqi. Even behind the feeble illusions cast amongst them, Taqi sensed an untapped well of Power.

“Safar, Unais — hold here. Continue to defend. I will reinforce those below but be ready to come on my command. Understood?”

His subordinates nodded.

“Good. Aarif," he said to the captain of the reserve forces, "come with me. Let’s cut those snakes down to size!”

He would not be out manoeuvred. His ego would allow for no less than a swift counterattack. Where brute force had not worked, finesse would. That was where Taqi's talents could shine.

It's time to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat!

“On me, men!” He drew his curved blade with a flourish and charged the compound.

* * *

With the first wave of attackers broken by Cortain’s magic, the Vipers were beating back the soldiers who'd become an uncoordinated mess. Still, the fighting was ferocious. Machieve dispatched another soldier, his blade cutting through the silk and armour with ease. Blinking against the spray of blood, he regarded the Elemental who was navigating the fight, approaching him quickly.

He grinned at the young man, glad to see him. “That was some magic you cast.”

“Thank you.” Cortain nodded, every muscle in his body taught with the readiness necessary in battle.

“The day is not yet won,” Machieve said. "Are you going somewhere?"

“Some of them are regrouping," Cortain said. "I have some ideas.”

“Oh?” Machieve raised a bloodied eyebrow. “And what might those be?”

Cortain gave him a conspirator’s smile and told him his idea.

“You may be crazy, but I will not let you face my enemies alone. The children aren’t here. It was a trap. So let us face our enemy together and find out where the children of the desert are.”

Cortain nodded. “Follow me if you must. Let’s see if we can end this.”

The last of their enemies fell to Viper blades as they spoke. More would come, but Machieve hoped not to meet them. He gave orders for the injured to retire and for the bodies of the fallen to be removed. He would leave no one behind. They had taken few losses, but he grieved for each one. Machieve called the remaining Vipers to follow as the Elemental took the lead.

* * *

Taqi was no coward, but he preferred to rely on his cunning. He led his men off the main road on a circular route. The Vipers would expect a frontal assault. By circling behind them, he could take them by surprise or catch them in retreat.

But all he cared about was meeting the Desert Viper, so he could show him how far he had come since they'd last met. And then Taqi would end Machieve for good.

* * *

Fortune was with Cortain as he crested a hill on the hard-packed road ahead of the enemy force. He held up a hand to bring the Vipers behind him to a halt, and he studied the men below.

Cortain didn’t need to use his ability to sense their magic. The two mages gave themselves away, dressed as they were in long flowing robes, in direct contrast to the surrounding warriors. Still with his hand up, Cortain concentrated on discerning their power. He had sensed three of them earlier. The strongest was not there.

“What is it?” Machieve made his way to the front of the line.

“The strongest of the mages is missing.”

“That would be Taqi, then.”

Cortain quirked an eyebrow at the familiarity in Machieve's voice. “Do you two have history?”

“Yes." Machieve's eyes darkened. "You could say we have unfinished business.”

“Well, once we’re done here, you can tell me all about it. But for now, I can’t sense him. How skilled is he?” Cortain asked.

“Taqi is a battle mage." Machieve nearly spit his enemy's name. "But our skills pale in comparison to those of the outside world. You should be more powerful by far.”

Cortain didn’t need to skim Machieve's mind to know the two were fierce enemies. But his intuition told him that maybe they hadn’t always been.

A story for later.

Machieve rested his hand on the hilt of his sheathed blade as he nodded at the mages below. “Those two are his pets. He clicks his fingers, and they heel like an obedient dog. But we cannot leave them alive.”

“Agreed,” Cortain said.

“Could it be a trap?” Marwa asked as she joined them.

“Well, it could be a day for traps," Cortain said. "Only one way to find out. Let’s spring it.”

Machieve nodded. “Yes, let’s.”

Marwa tutted. “Boys.” But she drew her own weapon, and her pursed lips spread into a smile.

The Vipers behind followed suit.

Cortain drew his twin blades. “Let’s go thin the ranks a little.”

“Finally," Marwa said, "a crazed idea I like.”

* * *

Cortain and Machieve led the silent charge as Cortain reverted to normal sight. The coming conflict would be settled mostly by sword and blade. A soft padding of their wrapped sandals was the only signal of their coming, but the enemy seemed too preoccupied with maintaining their shields and preparing for another onslaught of magic to sense the approach of Cortain and the Desert Vipers.

The second the city soldiers spotted them coming, they reacted, rushing to meet them. But outnumbered and outmatched, they didn’t last long. The Viper’s flowing tactics overpowered their lesser training.

The enemy mages, however, hung back as their soldiers died to hurl small, fist-sized bolts at Cortain. Marwa deflected the first one, creating a shimmering shield ahead of him. The bolt destroyed the shield but dissipated, and Cortain jumped through the harmless swirling remnants of magic. As he did so, he returned fire with his own magic.

The nuances of a magical battle were discarded when hand-to-hand combat was involved; there was simply no time to conjure complex constructs in one's mind and then manifest them properly. Any attempt to do so would likely result in death. In the end, it came down to the wielding of raw, unrefined magic.

His first casting took one mage in the chest; he flew backward with a smoking wound in his chest. The remaining mage held out a hand, creating a shield. Cortain channelled Power into his blades. As they blazed with a blinding blue light, he sliced through the weak shield, spinning as he did to put his second blade to work. The robed mage didn’t stand a chance as he held up his hands to block the attack. Cortain’s blade cut through the palm of his hand and buried itself into his neck. With a flourish, Cortain twisted his blade free and decapitated him.

The fight was over.

Panting from his brief exertion, Cortain extinguished the Power imbuing his blades. The Vipers cleaned their weapons on the robes of the fallen before sheathing them. Cortain caught Machieve’s eye, and they nodded in mutual respect.

Marwa removed her face covering and approached with a wild look in her eyes. The thrill of the fight seemed still alive and well within her. Something in her manner stirred him. In that moment, he could not help but appreciate her wild and magnetic bearing. In her, he could see the unadulterated force of nature.

“As fun as this was," Cortain said, "I say we move forward. Now.”

“What do you suggest?” Machieve asked.

“Something unexpected.”

Machieve arced an eyebrow. “Will this be another crazy idea?”

“Crazy? We haven’t even begun." Cortain grinned. "But I’m glad to see the game is catching on. Tomean would be proud.”

“When we are done here, Elemental," Machieve said, "You will need to tell me all about this Tomean. He sounds interesting.”

“I’ll tell him you said that. He would love to know he’s having such an impact here. But he’s… an acquired taste. To say the least.”

“Aren’t we all?” Machieve smiled.

Cortain motioned for the rest of the Vipers to come closer. “Gather round. Have a listen to our next move.”

* * *

Taqi's anger grew as his hopes of salvaging triumph from the day disappeared. His plan to circle around and hit the Vipers had failed. The compound was empty except for the bodies of his fallen soldiers.

These were meant to be the elite. He kicked at a dead soldier

The unknown mage had changed the course of this battle. He was the one thing Taqi hadn’t planned for. But he wouldn't make that mistake again. He signalled for his men to return to him, and he led them away from the compound toward the rest of his remaining force.

As they approached, unease gnawed at Taqi; he couldn’t sense the shields his apprentices were maintaining when he left. They wouldn’t have abandoned their position unless ordered to. The price of disobedience was too great.

Which leaves only one option: they're dead.

His suspicions were borne out when they reached the top of the hill to discover the corpses of all those he'd left there. Again, there wasn't a Viper in sight. Unable to control his anger, he screamed into the heavens, cursing his former mentor.

He did not miss the exchange of uncomfortable looks amongst his remaining men at the open display of emotion. But none would voice an opinion if they wished to live. He didn’t howl at the loss of men but at the loss of the game playing out between him and Machieve.

Indecision gnawed at him. To return to the council defeated would bring great shame and weaken his position. He either returned triumphant or not at all. He needed more time to design his next move.

“Rajaa," Taqi said, "take a contingent of men and recover our dead. I will see that they get proper burial rites.”

“Your will be done.” Rajaa took a selection of men back to the compound with him.

Taqi didn’t care about the dead men, but it was the perfect excuse to delay their attack and supply time for him to think. The battle was done for the day.

And if he is foolish enough to surprise me again, I’ll kill Machieve and all his precious Vipers.

* * *

Cortain and the Desert Vipers returned to the city in small groups, entering under different guises. But the guards at the gate weren’t interested. Word hadn’t reached them of the morning’s slaughter.

Once inside the city, Cortain had Marwa take him close to its heart, to what the Sunean’s called The Palace. Sitting on a rickety wooden stool at an equally rickety table in the shade of a vendor's canopy, he observed the structure.

Some palace. He scoffed. I wonder how they’d react at seeing the shining marble palace of Yls Thalor. The thought tickled him.

“Care to share the joke?” Marwa asked.

“Not a joke, just a thought. If I could show you a real palace, it would put that wooden thing to shame.”

“We make do with what we have. Remember, this is all built on sand. The land is precarious. Why build vast, blocky buildings only to have them sink?" She shrugged. "But, once this is over, I’ll let you show me one of these grand palaces. Maybe.”

“You’re on.” He stifled a smile.

Marwa pursed her lips and retrieved food and drink from the vendor. They would look less conspicuous observing The Palace if they were eating. She plopped a small, flat loaf of bread filled with spiced meat down in front of him, along with a very small cup. He didn’t ask about the specifics of the ingredients of the food, instead choosing to enjoy its spicy taste and rich aroma.

“This is wonderful.” He mumbled between bites as Marwa partook in her own meal. “But as good as this food is," Cortain said, "I would prefer a spot that affords us a better view of the place.”

“No.”

He frowned. “Why not?”

“Taqi is predictable. He will return this way. After his defeat this morning, he will try slinking into the city through the side gate." She nodded toward the gate, visible from their position. "Not to mention we wouldn't want palace guards noticing your pale skin. Even in our clothing, you might draw the wrong sort of attention. Here is fine.”

Cortain bowed to her greater wisdom. He couldn’t argue with her logic. He nodded at the small cup, more suspicious of its odd, green colour. "What's that, then?"

"A local drink," Marwa said, sipping her own. "A brew made from fermented snakes. Very popular."

Cortain mimicked her and sipped. The harsh liquid burned his mouth and caused him to devolve into a coughing fit. He spilled more of the alcohol than he drank.

Marwa tutted. “I just said it would be unwise to draw attention to us. If I’d have known you couldn’t handle your drink, mage, I would have ordered you honeyed milk like a child.”

Cortain gave her a dirty look and forced himself to take another gulp. Prepared for the shock of the liquid, he fared better and didn’t splutter or cough. A few more sips and he could ignore the initial rawness of the spirit and appreciate the subtle tones that accompanied it.

I’ve drunk worse. He decided.

Putting the cup down, he blinked to clear a sudden light-headedness. He was unused to drinking, let alone strong spirits. Taking a moment, he enjoyed the warm sensation gathering in his stomach.

“Do you think this will work?” Marwa asked.

“You just told me this was the best place to sit.”

“No, your grand plan. Do you think it will work?”

Cortain nodded in understanding. “Only if he takes the bait. I’ll help as much as I can, but I can’t kill him for you.”

“Machieve wouldn’t let you do it, anyway. He has to be the one to kill Taqi. But I fear for Machieve. He bears much for our people, and we need him.”

“Can he win against Taqi?” Cortain asked.

“In a fair fight, yes, but Taqi won’t play fair.”

“He won’t have a choice, if I'm there. I won't sit back and let Taqi fight underhanded. Let’s hope Machieve wins," Cortain said, "or else I’ll have some explaining to do when I return to the tower.”

“Will they punish you for your involvement?”

“Maybe." He shrugged. "It depends on what happens. But they’re the ones that sent me here, remember. I will tread carefully. There are enough wars raging already, and I don’t need to start any new ones.”

“We keep hearing about all these wars, but we remain untouched." Marwa looked thoughtful. "The deserts protect us.”

Cortain shook his head. “Not forever. Eventually, depending on who’s winning what, someone may force your people to choose sides.”

“Can’t we remain neutral, like your Elemental Order? I’m sure that is what Machieve wishes.”

“The order has done a good job so far of keeping to our mandate of neutrality. There have been some skirmishes along the way, but on the whole, we remain unaffected. But they will pull us into it at some point.”

“Who’s they?”

“The orders outside our own. Coalitions change, and the pressure comes from different orders at different times. Right now, the Infernals are leading the charge for us all to take sides.”

“Who are the Infernals?”

“The Infernals are a powerful group of mages intent on bending the world to their will.”

“Why?” Marwa asked.

Cortain shrugged. “I don’t profess to know their true intent. But they worship Demons.”

“Demons?”

“Yes, powerful creatures from another realm. The Infernals make foul pacts with these demons in return for power. The bigger the bargain, the greater the Power no doubt.”

“That’s awful. Why doesn’t anyone stop them?”

“They are stopped from time to time. But never eradicated. Not fully.”

Marwa paused as she considered his words. “And will they?”

“Will they what?”

“Pull you into war?”

“At first I believed Tomean was wrong, that the Elementals wouldn't get involved.”

“And now?”

“Now, I’m not so sure.”

His mood darkened as the conversation took a more sombre tone. He finished the rest of his food in silence as Marwa sipped her drink. After some time had passed in silence, a commotion ahead announced the return of the soldiers.

Looks like she was right.

From their vantage point, they watched Taqi's men enter the side gate with as little fanfare as possible.

Marwa knocked back her drink, finishing it. “Well, I think he’s come back after licking his wounds. Let’s go.”

Cortain nodded and finished his own drink, though he did so in a less dignified manner. Ignoring her coy look as he coughed, he walked past her on their way to the rendezvous point.

* * *

Even with a slow walk back, Taqi had no great epiphany. There was no way he could avoid punishment for his failure. He raged at being thwarted at the last moment, just when victory had been in his grasp.

His ambush had gone according to plan. Using the known Viper sympathiser, he had planted false information around the location of the children, luring the Desert Vipers into his trap. If it hadn't been for the powerful mage Machieve had somehow acquired, he would have snapped the jaws shut, finally ridding Sunsadar of the Vipers.

His setback only fuelled his vow for vengeance. He would have Machieve’s head on a pike, or he would die trying.

Entering The Palace, he dismissed the men back to the barracks, before heading to the central council chambers. They would have been informed of his return. Bad news always travelled fast, and he suspected they would already know the result of his efforts. But he would make his report, nonetheless.

Though he'd been defeated today, the war was far from over.

* * *

“Cortain, are you sure you can put out these fires?" Machieve asked. "It won’t take much for the entire city to go up in smoke.” He looked out over the place he loved, a nervous energy working through his body.

“Is that even a question?" Cortain smirked. "I’m of the Elemental Order, remember? Fire is our forte. I’ll let it rage in the areas I need it to, and everywhere else will be safe. Don’t worry.”

“This is still my city, my home. I will always worry about its people," Machieve said. "There's also the fact that everything is made of wood and cloth. Fire is our mortal enemy. I don’t want it burning unchecked across the city.”

Cortain put a reassuring hand on Machieve's shoulder. “I understand your concern, but this city is not your home. Its people are. Remember that. You can always rebuild the houses, but it’s not so easy to rebuild its people. I will do my best to keep them safe. You just concentrate on staying alive.”

The Elemental's words rang true in Machieve's heart, and he was right. His people could always rebuild, and as long as they were by his side, the city would always be his home.

“Thank you.” Machieve turned to his Vipers and gave the order. “Let’s finish this.”

The Vipers moved on his command. They knew their role and what he expected of them. The fate of more than just their children was at stake. Failure was not an option.

* * *

His meeting had not gone well, but Taqi expected no less. Berated by the city’s lords, he had averted his eyes to afford them the proper respect. He'd kept his rage in check. To lash out would cost him everything. He didn’t fear members of the council, but he could not stage a coup alone. Instead, he took the shame with him and retired to his rooms.

As he paced the length of his chamber, he considered his position. He was out of grace with the ruling council for the time being, but they couldn’t afford to execute him. Out of all the battle mages left, he was the strongest and most experienced, trained by Machieve’s very hand.

Do I need the council’s approval and troops? Why not seek him out and end this? He toyed with the idea but discarded the notion. He needed the soldiers, and therefore, he needed the council’s approval. Anything else would be suicide.

Using the water from his basin, he washed away the stains of the day’s travel. He knew it was a waste but sponged himself clean anyway. Water was precious in the desert, but The Palace was well provisioned.

He removed his battle shemagh and sat, running his fingers through his hair as he gazed at his reflection in a burnished metal mirror. His dark hair, curls tight, hung about his face, which was damp with sweat.

The years have not been kind, he thought.

In that moment, he remembered all he had lost. His wife, his son. A single tear fell from his eye.

How life would have been so different if you both lived.

His soul hardened as the grief robbed him of breath. The wound was still raw, years later.

No, you did this to me, Machieve. You are to blame.

So focused on the emotions of his past, he didn’t hear the shouts of alarm until one word cut through his painful memories.

“Fire!”

That was the one word in the desert guaranteed to get everyone’s attention. Without hesitation, he left his room, heading to the source of the sound. Fire was the mortal enemy of his city made of wood and cloth.

* * *

Cortain had done his part. The fires were set. He just hoped it was enough to lure Taqi out. He had promised Machieve he could control the fires, and he could. But fire was still a powerful force of nature.

So far, so good.

He admired his handiwork. If he lost control, he hoped he was strong enough to quench the fires before they raced through the city. That would be a test of his limits he hoped to avoid.

As the minutes dragged by, he had to divert the flow twice to keep the blaze contained. Already, nature was showing him how unpredictable it could be. The palace was alight, as planned. But the fires were burning hotter than he'd intended, and if he let them burn much longer, there would be nothing to show for the seat of power except ash, which had not been part of the plan.

Using the fire as a distraction to get close undetected, a small force of Vipers attacked the gate, peppering the guards stationed their with arrows.

Cortain and Machieve lay hidden nearby, using his arcane arts, he strained his senses, seeking their quarry. Taqi was in there somewhere, but he hadn’t locked onto Cortain yet. Seeing flames spreading where they shouldn’t, Cortain began to extinguish the rogue flames.

“Machieve, I don’t think he’s coming," Cortain said. "We need to draw him out.”

Machieve's eyes hardened. “Use me as bait.”

“If you're willing, it seems our best option.”

Machieve nodded. "Agreed."

“When he comes out," Cortain said, "you need to stick to the original plan to lure him away. I fear that killing him here may jeopardise the chance of recovering the children alive. Can you do it?”

“I don’t have a choice. The children come first. Once we have their location, then I will kill him.”

“Good luck, may the grace of your gods be with you.”

Machieve nodded and drew his heavy blade. They moved from the building, Machieve stepped out into view of all, while Cortain moved to the side of another building in order to watch the palace as the Desert Viper leader stepped forward to make his challenge. And then he turned to finish putting out the flames. They were only barely within his capacity to bring under control; he had to work quickly.

* * *

The fires were a ruse, Taqi was sure of it. The fires somehow seemed contained to the outer palace boundary and neighbouring buildings.

A true fire would have raced out of control by now. Machieve's pet mage is at work here. He's not capable of this magic on his own.

Taqi held back; his suspicions were confirmed by a report that the guards at the gate were under attack. But there was something off about that, too. It wasn't a full-frontal assault.

Let’s see what you do next when I don’t bite, Machieve.

He hurried to one of the wooden balconies that had not been burned. From his vantage he watched as the guard mustered, preparing to sally out and engage the bowmen. Forming a shield wall, bucklers in the front, they waited for the order.

Let them earn their keep for once.

He examined the fire damage, mildly relieved that the city had been spared. He didn't have the time to worry about rebuilding, and the council would have surely shifted their focus from the Vipers had the fire spread much farther. The guards charged forwards. The air filled with the clashing of metal and the screams of dying men.

He couldn’t see who was winning from the balcony. That left him with two choices: scale the central tower of The Palace to view the attack from above or join the fight at the gates. He decided on the tower but stopped at a whiff of a familiar scent. His most hated adversary had revealed himself at the gates. Spinning around, he snarled.

“This ends today!” he hissed.

But in three long strides, Taqi realized he was playing right into his old mentor's hand. He smiled to himself as another thought entered his mind, a way to turn the tide of the battle decisively.

“Yes, that would work.” He made his way to the armoury instead.

* * *

Machieve had left Cortain to scale the city wall far enough from the skirmish that no one would notice. He had to make a wide arc before he could reach his Vipers, but he was quick. When he finally stood with them as they made volley after volley over the gate, he dropped his shroud, revealing his true self. In that moment, he let his aura shine. It had been too long since he'd unmasked himself; he'd had to guard against his enemy's for years. But now he shrugged off that ethereal cloak.

He hoped it was enough to lure the battle mage out.

The gates swung open, revealing a solid block of soldiers holding a shield wall of rounded bucklers.

“Look for the gaps," he said to his Vipers. "Pick your shots. When they advance, aim for the legs and force those shields down.” His fighters knew what to do, but his presence was a calming influence.

The soldiers crept forward as one, their formation of wooden shields like a monstrous beast with arrows for spikes. They showed their discipline, closing ranks as someone fell, maintaining the shield and continuing their advance. As the soldiers closed the distance, his Vipers switched from bow to blade, waiting. The fight would be determined at close quarters.

Machieve held his blade ready. He stepped closer, so he would be one of the first to engage. If Taqi wouldn’t come at his mere presence, then he would come find him after killing the soldiers.

Once the rain of arrows stopped, the soldiers broke ranks with a resounding roar. The groups clashed. Machieve stepped to meet them, his heavy blade a terrifying blur as it bit into flesh and bone alike.

The Viper’s style of fighting was akin to the sea breaking on the shore as they flowed over the soldiers. The first of them hit their marks and moved on while the last finished off the injured and confused soldiers. No Viper stood still. He took no pleasure in the butchery, instead focusing on his form and losing himself in the graceful movements.

The battle was short and bloody and ended in defeat for the sallying force. But the Desert Vipers were not without losses of their own. Panting and covered in blood, he looked upon each dead Viper and burned the names of the fallen into his head. He would mourn them later, if he could.

Wiping his blade clean, he took stock of their predicament. There weren't enough Vipers left to storm the gate. The city's crossbowman manned the walls, readying their bolts. They were heavy weapons, their range reduced, but one volley from them would devastate his men.

Machieve was considering abandoning their mission when he sensed a foreign magic, familiar in its scent but with hints of something foul.

More soldiers gathered beneath the gates, but they stood aside for someone else. A red, armoured figure emerged. Machieve's eyes widened in shock. Striding towards him was his old protege, Taqi, but he was encased in a strange armour; only his face and head were exposed. The metallic armour had to have originated beyond the blistering heat of the desert. No tribesmen would be foolish enough to wear plate such as that unless they wished to cook under the harsh glare of the sun.

“Shimla guide me. What is that?” Machieve took half a step back.

Drawing on his own well of magic, he attacked, launching an energy spell designed to wrap around the target and kill. In dismay, he watched as it latched onto Taqi but, instead of burning him to a cinder, flared against the red armour, and was absorbed into the metal.

Machieve blinked, frozen, unable to think. Impossible!

His confusion nearly cost him his life. Taqi lifted a hand and directed a raw bolt of condensed energy back at him while he still processed his failed spell. He dived just in time, hitting the ground and rolling to his feet in an instant. He didn’t stop moving as Taqi followed up his attack with three more. Each one missed him as he drew Taqi's attention away from the Vipers left alive.

"Run!" He ordered his Vipers. They were to flee the second Taqi presented himself, and they did as they were told. Able to act without worry now that his men were safe, he sprinted away, following the road, luring his enemy into their trap.

He chanced a glance behind him, both pleased and terrified to see Taqi walking at a steady, quick pace, mostly unimpeded by the overlapping metal plates. While Machieve was faster, Taqi moved with deadly determination, his step sure and not overeager, his expression triumphant. Machieve kept running.

Cortain had revealed the ability to seek out another mind and communicate, and though Taqi had never attempted it, he did so as he ran, hoping to connect with the Elemental and gather information.

“What armour is he wearing?” He spoke aloud but cast the words outward from his mind, his heart sinking at his feeble attempt. His feet pounded the ground. Taqi was gaining on him. He tried again, his words coming through laboured breaths. "Cortain, what is this armour Taqi wears?" When the answer came, Machieve was heartened, until the meaning of the words sunk in.

Cortain's voice echoed in his mind, weak at first and then growing stronger with each word.

“I don’t know, but it’s not of the desert,” Machieve said.

Behind him, Taqi's voice carried. "You can't run forever, old friend."

A bolt of magic sizzled in the air, and Machieve threw up a shield behind him. He returned fire, but again, the suit flared brightly as it absorbed his attack.

Cortain's voice cut back in.

“So how do I win?”

“How do I do that?”

I’ll do my best. He had no intention of dying just yet.

* * *

Taqi enjoyed the power gained from donning the suit. He felt invincible. Watching his former master fleeing from him was exhilarating.

The power he wielded was far beyond what he'd hoped. He stalked after Machieve, imaging how satisfying it would be to kill him and then to kill all of his Vipers. Then he would return to deal with the council. With the power of the suit, he intended to rule the city by nightfall.

The council was weak. They'd been gifted the glorious armour days prior, and each of the council members had been loath to use it. And for what? It was wondrous. It filled Machieve with power. His physical, mental, and emotional states were heightened, increasingly empowered from the first moment he'd been fully suited. He no longer cared why they'd been given the red plate. All he cared about now was revenge and his rise to power.

* * *

Machieve approached the burial ground, a place outside the city limits, sacred and full of people he'd lost, people Taqi had lost. It was years since he had last been there, but time hadn’t dulled the pain.

Shaking off his limbs, he readied himself in body and mind as he pushed aside the reawakened memories of the past. He drew his sword. His body ached from the intense dash of the last leg of his run. He'd wanted to get far enough ahead to have a moment to think once he'd arrived. He was exhausted, but he would finish it today if he could, if the Elemental could negate the powers of the suit.

Machieve steeled his resolve. He'd wanted a fair fight, but Taqi had changed the rules with the use of the armour. Gritting his teeth at the thought of betraying his own moral code, Machieve decided to do whatever was necessary.

It needs to end.

Soon, Taqi walked into view. The armour was bright and clean as if never worn into battle. Machieve locked eyes with Taqi, reading the fury in the younger man’s face.

Then the significance of this place is not lost on him.

It was a fitting location for the two to end it. By sundown, it would be decided. As he studied his old pupil, he couldn’t help but feel a wave of sadness of how things had turned out.

How did it get so bad?

* * *

Taqi was alive with a rage more intense than any he'd ever known; it coursed through his veins like a drug. He was no longer concerned with Machieve's traps. With his armour, he'd be able to handle whatever the old mage threw his way.

I will spill his blood where I buried my son.

It was fitting. His boy had never gotten the chance to forge his own path. Machieve had stolen that from him. Taqi would finally mete out justice.

Taqi allowed the energy of his armour fill him, and he focused solely on Machieve. He summoned great, twisting funnels of fire and sent them hurling toward Machieve. Four small but fierce fire tornados raced towards the Viper.

Nothing is beyond me, now, not with the power of this armour. Greed for more power swelled in Taqi's chest; even that morning, such a feat would have been impossible for him.

Machieve's blade glowed with magic as he deflected each attack. Enhanced by the armour, Taqi could see the weaves of magic clearer than ever. The vibrating threads of arcane forces were bound within the metal of the blade.

The secrets of the gods could be mine. I can see all, accomplish all!

He grinned as he cast two more tornados, these larger than the last. Again, they were deflected. Machieve had learned much from the new mage he'd brought to the desert. Taqi's smile faded, and he clenched his jaw.

You will fall, today, Machieve.

Machieve pointed his blade at him, motioning him closer.

You want us to fight up close and personal?

Taqi laughed. The old Viper didn't know the trouble he'd invited. Taqi made the motion of drawing a sword, though he didn't have one at his side. He tapped into the power of the suit to create a two-handed sword of flame to rival Machieve’s weapon.

Taqi charged. It was time for Machieve to die.

* * *

Machieve ignored the stench of singed hair wafting from his own arms and the slight sting of minor burns. But he flinched as his former pupil summoned a great two-handed blade. Already, Taqi had posed a greater challenge than Machieve had ever encountered. He stayed calm, focusing on his own abilities in order to guard against Taqi's oncoming attack. He prayed his own empowered weapon would be up to the task as he reinforced the magic it already held.

Taqi rushed forward with reckless abandon, his flame sword held high above his head. Machieve stepped into the wild charge, flowing with the grace and control he'd mastered.

Taqi drove his blade down, seeking to split him in half, but Machieve sidestepped and countered, his blade bouncing off the armour. Though his blade drew a minuscule amount of power from the suit, it was still undamaged.

Taqi laughed off the blow and quickly returned one of his own. Machieve parried the attack, but he was forced backward from a wave of Power formed from the meeting of the two blades.

Taqi pushed forward, relentless with his attacks. Machieve wasn't far from defeat. Each parry sent jolts of energy down the length of his sword and into his hands, numbing them.

Evenly matched, Machieve refused to give up ground but was unable to gain any. The frantic pace of the fight left no room for strategizing. He barely had time to think.

Hurry, Cortain.

* * *

Knowing he had to move quickly, Cortain flowed into the ethereal realm, into his simulacrum of light. Leaving his body defenceless outside the city, he rose as high as he could into the air and surveyed the spread of fire below.

Reaching out to multiple sites of fire, the raw element seemed gleeful as it spread from one building to another. If he allowed the flames to rage any longer, the city would be doomed. Ignoring his own limitations, he pulled the elemental energy unto himself. He was perilously close to his limits, and he felt his incorporeal body strain with power. But he pushed on, holding himself together by force of will alone.

Fit to burst, he extinguished the last of the fires, absorbing all their energy. Balanced on a knife's edge, he held onto the power as it fought to rip him apart. He hurried to a desert mount, making his way out of the city through a smaller, barely guarded gate. It took seconds to overwhelm the guards. He didn’t have time to answer questions. Swollen with magic, he used the excess to follow the trail left by the Infernal suit, praying he'd make it in time.

The short journey to the graveyard passed in a blur as he fought against his own burnout. By rights, he should have been scoured of all thought and left a shell of a man. But amidst the storm of turbulent power, a deeper part of his mind remained steadfast. He maintained a fortress the waves of magic could not break.

Cortain did what he could to examine the armoured mage as he closed the distance. The overlapping plates looked of an ancient design, but they flowed over his body like water, as in newer designs.

Taqi’s inexperience was on display. He was clumsy with the magic he'd been given. With the power the suit possessed, any skilled mage would have already ended the battle.

Cortain pulled up on his reins and came to a stop at the edge of the burial grounds, hesitating. What could I do with armour like that?

But shaking his head, he dispelled that notion. Nothing from the Infernals could be trusted. No doubt it was already working its manipulations upon the young desert man, warping him into an image of the Infernals.

To maintain the balance, Cortain had to act. The Elemental Order’s rule of neutrality was mute once Infernal influence had been introduced, but Cortain still wondered if he'd done the right thing in aiding one local power over and against another.

Oh, Master, if you could see me now.

For once in his life, he had second thoughts of meddling. But they'd still not learned the children’s whereabouts. The duel had to continue until Cortain had gained the information for which they'd come.

Other Vipers were in position throughout the burial site but gave the two combatants space. Powerful magic had already been loosed, magic that the Vipers would not be able to defend against.

Cortain sought the mind of the enemy, but the suit thwarted his attempt. All he could feel was a void.

Taqi was winning, and Machieve was showing signs of his weakening.

If I don't intervene, Machieve will die.

The time for neutrality was over.

The burning of the magic he held yearned for release, and the man clad in the ancient armour of a demonic cult was the perfect target. But Machieve had to be seen as winning alone, otherwise the Elemental Order would be called into question.

Eyes blaring white, he released the pent-up magic and directed it towards the suit. A miasma of dark magic leaked from the Infernal armour as it tried and failed to absorb and dissipate his spell.

The void protecting Taqi’s mind faltered, leaving gaps Cortain could exploit. He penetrated these cracks and cautiously entered the mind of the battle mage. He wasn't afraid of Taqi's defences of the mind; after all, the lesser mage had inferior training. Instead, he was wary of the influence the Infernals may have had via the suit. If another presence had taken refuge inside of Taqi, the dangers could prove lethal. But to his relief, Taqi's mind was devoid of the sulphuric stench of their hellish magic.

Cortain proceeded to search for the information; he had to find it before he was discovered. If Taqi noticed him, the information could be locked away within an untraversable labyrinth.

In this state, in the outer regions of the mind, Cortain lost track of the ebbs and flows of battle. If Taqi died whilst Cortain was still in his mind, he could become trapped. The stories claimed being lost in a dead man's mind manifested similarly to being burnt out by magic. It was a state of living death until the body perished.

The teachings of his old professors sprung to mind.

Minds are organised chaos. Beware where you tread. Nothing is as it seems.

This one was more chaos than anything. The best way to proceed was to impose order, to focus the substance of Taqi's mind into something he could understand.

His form solidified until he felt real. The grey void around him took shape, becoming halls, as he imagined a giant library. Each memory would be a book, each secret locked behind doors of wood and stone.

Cortain ran down the halls, flinging open doors and scrutinising the contents of each room. He needed only one piece of information, and then he could withdraw.

Praying to Ruva, the Goddess of Luck, he pushed on. No better than a common thief, he ransacked memories as if they were tangible things, discarding the ones that were of no use.

Just don’t kill him too soon, Machieve.

* * *

Machieve's muscles felt like lead weights as the fight drew on. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold on. Dozens of times he had landed what would have been killing blows to a normal foe, and not one had caused serious injury. There were times he thought he sensed the armour weakening somehow, but he had no time to explore how or why.

Still, until Cortain told him he had discovered the whereabouts of the children, Machieve had no choice but to fight. To fall would mean certain death for their children.

If they’re not already dead.

His lapse in concentration nearly cost him his life as he ducked under another decapitating strike. The heat of the weapon washed over him. He chided himself for such morbid thoughts and cleared his mind again. He couldn’t afford to be distracted.

Come on, Cortain. I'm running out of energy.

He pushed the message outwards, hoping the Elemental could hear. Drenched in sweat, he parried the flame sword again. The flare of power between the two weapons was weaker than the first time their blades had met. The power within his own blade was nearly spent. .

Cortain's voice, as from afar, sounded in his mind.

I’ll try.

* * *

Machieve’s faint pleading reached Cortain. Come on, Cortain. I'm running out of energy.

“I can’t find it. Get him talking.” Cortain spoke the words aloud, but through the tentative connection between the two, the words would manifest in Machieve’s mind.

The landscape shifted. Walls blurred and rooms rearranged as Machieve engaged Taqi in conversation. Cortain hoped the battle mage would think of the children and unlock the path to the hidden information. As his surroundings settled, Cortain was faced with a rusting metal stairway leading down a level. It appeared much as a ruin would, as if a single step onto the first stairstep would cause it to crumble.

This smacks of Infernal influence, but the armour couldn’t have infected him that much already. Could it?

Knowing what was likely waiting for him at the bottom, he descended the creaking stairs. By strength of will, he reinforced each stairstep. Even in his enemy’s mind, he was stronger than Taqi.

The temperature changed. The air grew hot and stale. But he ignored the uncomfortable sensations. While he could sustain actual harm inside Taqi's mind, things like heat and breathing could not affect his incorporeal simulacrum.

Laughter echoed in the distance.

“You have no place here, Elemental.” A voice oozed from the darkness.

“I could say the same about you.”

“Ahhh.” The voice hissed. “He freely invited us.”

“I doubt that, demon.” Cortain spat. “I’d wager Taqi did not know the implications of surrendering himself to that armour.”

“But surrender he did.”

“Is that why you’re still lurking in the depths of his mind? Like a parasite, you bide your time.”

“You cannot win in this place.” The voice came from behind him this time.

“Is that so?” Cortain smirked. It was a dangerous game, baiting a demon, but he had a mission to accomplish. “Tell me, if you’re so powerful, how am I here in the first place?”

There was no reply.

“I am here," Cortain continued, "because your power is weak, and soon it will be no more.”

The staircase ended in darkness. He stood upon hard ground as he gazed into the abyss. The space around him was empty, or so the demon would have him believe.

“What is your name, Elemental?”

“What is yours?” Cortain countered.

The demons believed that knowing one’s true name granted domination over them. It was a code they believed to their core. Cortain knew better. It was not the knowing of a name that granted them control but rather the act of submission in revealing a true name. The Elemental Order paid no heed to such things. For now, he would play the game, gauging the strength of the one who lurked in the battle mage's mind.

“You know something of our ways then, little mage.”

“Enough to know there is no power in learning a name. I will not submit.”

“You will, in time.”

Cortain recalled all he could of the Infernals. The cult worshipped demons — denizens of another world, another plane of existence.

There were many types of demon. He suspected he faced an ancient one if the style of the armour was anything to go by. No doubt it had lain dormant within the plates of metal, waiting for someone it could seduce.

“I think it’s time you revealed yourself to me, demon.”

“As you wish.”

Flame erupted from the floor, bathing Cortain in red light as it formed a circle around him. A large, emaciated figure shuffled into the flickering light. It towered above him, but looked frail, as if it could barely hold itself up. A long, scaly tail swished behind it. Dull, dry scales covered its body. As feeble as it looked, he considered the possibility its appearance was a ploy to deceive him before striking.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you have not aged well. But I do. Reveal your true self, trickster.” He commanded.

The thing laughed. As its body shook, it discarded its shrivelled shell and grew. Its limbs filled out, muscles bunching, and its scales turned a deep red. Its doddering persona sloughed away, leaving a creature of malevolent intent.

“I know what you seek, mage,” it said. With a wave of its taloned hand, a wispy ball of light appeared. It was a memory. “But you shall not have it.” It grinned at him, revealing long, yellowed fangs.

Cortain narrowed his eyes. He'd noticed immediately the demon had no wings, which categorized the creature as a lesser being among his kind. That was good for Cortain.

He pooled his resolve. The creature was not fully within their world; he'd only begun the possession. It was weak, and no doubt still anchored to the armour.

Cortain could still win against it.

Within the mind of his enemy, magic was not the only tool at his disposal. Thought and strength of will had a similar effect if one was strong enough.

Time to find out.

Demons existed on the far end of a spectrum, but evil had a balance, an opposite. Cortain summoned an angelic blade, willing it to life, moulding it after images he'd seen in dusty tomes.

“What?” It backed away as the shining long sword came to life in Cortain’s hands.

Cortain gave it no quarter and attacked. As an extension of his own will, the sword wasn't heavy or cumbersome; it swung smoothly, bleeding white light as it whistled through the air. The demon swatted it aside with blackened claws but shrieked in pain each time the blade made contact.

Pushing forward, his attacks became a blur as he forced the demon further toward the flaming confines of the circle’s edge. Try as it might, it could do little against the onslaught. Trapping it against its own arcane art, he impaled the holy blade deep into its chest. It screamed in pain as smoke blistered from the wound, and its body shrunk in stature.

Speaking ancient words of banishment, he formed a holy sigil on the creature’s forehead. Using symbols feared by demonkind gave the spell strength. Cortain shouted a Word of Power, and the magic spread across its head, cracking the creature's scaled hide. White lines of power crisscrossed its body, and it exploded in a shower of light.

Cortain smiled. He had bested the demon using its own fears against it. He counted himself lucky. If it had been a captain of the many hells, or worse, a demon lord, he would have perished.

Cortain returned to the memory floating in the dark. He took hold of it and soaked up the information. The children were still alive, and he knew where to find them.

He sent a message to Machieve as he began to withdraw from Taqi's mind. “Got it!”

No sooner had he sent his message that the very fabric of Taqi's mind crumbled around him. That meant only one thing: Machieve had struck a mortal blow. As he fled upwards through the layers, and as the demon’s influence dissipated, he felt a little of Taqi’s true emotions. He felt his sorrow, his anger, and his grief. It brought a tear to his eye as he fled the battle mage's mind.

* * *

Machieve dodged backward to create space between himself and Taqi. “I know you’ve always been ambitious, but did it need to come to this?” he asked as he panted for breath, circling to the right as Taqi circled to the left.

“You turned on the people. You brought this down on yourself.” Taqi's tongue dripped with hatred.

“Lies, all lies, and you know it!" Machieve shouted. "Lies propagated by the council. I did not murder your son.”

“Liar!” Taqi screamed the word and lunged forward, seeking to impale him.

“Why would I lie?” Machieve sidestepped the clumsy thrust. “I loved your boy as if he was my own. I would never harm a hair on his head. You must believe me.”

“Is this why you lured me here, of all places? Playing games with my mind, seeking to unbalance me?" Taqi raised his chin. "I will not allow it. I will leave here with your head. I will avenge my boy.”

Taqi swung his sword with vigor, and Machieve was forced to frantically guard against the attack, barely making it through the exchange.

With the young battle mage’s face uncovered, Machieve could at least see his own exhaustion mirrored in Taqi's features as he strained to keep fighting. He couldn’t be sure, but he believed Taqi's fire sword had diminished in stature. It was small comfort, but it was something.

“Just tell me. Where are the children? They are innocent in all this.”

“My son was innocent!” Taqi roared.

Cortain’s voice interrupted both men as he spoke from within Taqi’s mind.

Taqi's eyes widened in surprise. “What have you done?”

Machieve saw his opportunity. He didn’t know how much power was left in the suit, but he drew as much magic as he could into his sword. It blazed to life, brighter than ever before.

Stepping forward, Machieve thrust with all his might, angling the point of the curved blade to pierce the chest plate. The armour flared red and tried to leech the magic from his sword, but he pushed hard, the blade imbued with magic to keep it from breaking. The blade dipped into Taqi's body, curving through until it emerged from Taqi's back. An explosion of energy propelled them both backward as the two opposing wells of magic cancelled each other out.

Machieve slammed to the ground. For a second, he gasped for breath and gazed up at the now darkening sky. Dusk was upon them. The silence was serene, and he was tempted to stay still, to give in to his body's demands for rest. But he had to make certain the task was completed. Through sheer force of will alone, he stood. His entire body trembled. Hobbling forward on stiff legs, he stood before his enemy, his shadow falling over Taqi who stared up at him,, surprise etched in his features as he gasped for breath.

Memories of a time when they'd been brothers tugged at Machieve, and as the fear of death manifested in Taqi's eyes, he fell to his knees and gathered him into his arms. The Infernal suit of armour had turned to rusty metal, flaking off before his very eyes as it was drained of the Power it'd held for centuries.

Machieve whispered softly, the urge for Taqi to know the truth stronger than ever. “They set me up. I did not kill your son. I did not kill Haji. I swear this on my honour, and I will avenge you. They will pay for their crimes." His voice wavered with emotion. "Now go. Find your family and rest. I pray you find the peace in the afterlife that you never found here.”

Taqi blinked rapidly and his brow furrowed as if he were trying to process Machieve's words. Gasping for breath, he grasped for Machieve's hand and took hold of it in some semblance of a warrior's salute. Anger and fear bled away, replaced by a calm serenity. He nodded to Machieve, locking eyes with him. A thousand words were spoken between them without a sound.

Machieve's heart broke as he cradled Taqi, stroking his head until he breathed his last breath. Tears wet his cheeks. The victory was bittersweet; Machieve felt only the crushing taste of defeat. He'd failed to bring Taqi back to his old self, to break through his apprentice's grief, to be the mentor Taqi needed.

* * *

As Cortain returned to his body, he surveyed the destruction wrought by their battle. The burial grounds were littered with scorched fragments of broken crypt markers and dead Vipers. He stumbled forward, heart lodged in his throat as he forced himself to look at each body, searching for a face, hoping not to find it.

As he neared the remains of a crypt, he found her, and his heart sank. Running to her side, he dropped to his knees, reaching for her.

Marwa, no!

Her battle garb was burnt away in places, and one side of her body was blackened and blistered. His fingers pressed against her neck as he sought a pulse. Panicking when he couldn’t find one, he used his arts to delve into her body.

She lives!

Relief flooded him at the subtle heartbeat and the lingering aspects of her mind, but without his help, neither would endure for long. Using his limited healing abilities, he siphoned off energy from his own aura, which would assist her own body's natural healing. He could only hope it was enough to stave off death.

As he weakened himself, he felt her own aura strengthen, if only a little. It was only then that the presence of other Vipers searching the wreckage registered.

“Quick, I need help!” he shouted.

Three Vipers ran to his aid, pausing only to look at her before their hands were reaching for her. In the near distance, three others were hauling a corpse away, and panic rose inside Cortain. He put one arm over Marwa protectively.

"You can't take her," he said. "She's not dead yet!"

“Please.” One of them pleaded. “She needs a healer.”

A hand rested on his shoulder as another spoke. “We know she still leaves. We will get her to someone who can help quickly. She is one of us.”

Cortain stared for a second as the words penetrated his own raw emotions, and then he nodded and moved aside. They gathered her limp form. One of them mounted a desert beast and the other two carefully lifted her upward to secure her in front of the rider. The other two mounted their animals, and the three of them headed toward the city.

Cortain stood, his legs rooted to the spot as he watched them go.

“I saw what you did there,” another voice said.

Cortain spun to face the Viper. “Sorry, what?”

“I have some skill in magic. Enough to see and understand what you did for her. You gave freely of yourself to save her. Your sacrifice has not gone unnoticed, but please,” the viper said, pointing further into the burial site, “help Machieve. He has his own grief to contend with.”

Cortain nodded, gathering himself as he walked with steady steps toward where the leader of the Desert Vipers was supposed to be.

* * *

A day later, Cortain bowed his head as Taqi's funeral rites took place. As a mark of honour, Machieve buried Taqi in the same grave as his son. After feeling the battle mage’s dying thoughts and emotions, Cortain agreed it was the honourable thing to do. He had been victim to the manipulations of others, and it was for them that Machieve would direct his ire.

They moved from one funeral to the next. They'd gathered the fallen Vipers in the hours after the battle. The people of the city had helped, ensuring not a single body was left on the streets to be defiled. They may have still been under the rule of the tyrant council, but they showed their support for Machieve and his warriors whenever they could. They had prepared funeral pyres away from the city for the Vipers who'd perished. Cortain stood before the pyres with the survivors as they honoured their fallen, sadness washing over him. He embraced the dry heat of the desert prickling against his skin. It reminded him of his humanity.

The Desert Vipers had become kindred spirits. The fearsome desert fighters acknowledged their newfound connection by allowing him to be present for this last farewell.

Machieve attended each body, whispering private words to his departed sons and daughters. Cortain could feel Machieve's pain; the sense of loss was mirrored within himself. Machieve covered the face of the last fallen Viper, speaking an ancient Sunean rite as he did so. A survivor handed him a blazing torch. Bowing his head, he touched the flaming brand to the base of each shrouded body. Once the circle of pyres had been set alight, he stepped back, and the flames consumed them.

Cortain stood motionless until the older man joined him.

“Do you still want to take Marwa back with you?” Machieve asked.

“Yes, she needs to go to the tower for healing.”

“We have our own healers. Why should I trust in yours?”

“I think I’ve more than earned your trust. She deserves the very best. That’s what I am offering.” Cortain turned to face the Viper leader. “I need to leave soon. The travelling will be hard, doubly so if she wakes. But I cannot, will not, take her without permission.”

“Why would you do this for us? For her?” Machieve asked.

“You already know the answer.”

“I would still rather hear it from your mouth.”

“For love.”

“But does she love you back?”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

“Indeed, there is.” Machieve sighed. “You have proven your worth to me a hundredfold. You have my blessing. Make her whole again. But bring her back to me someday.”

Cortain felt Machieve's sorrow intensify; it was laced with guilt.

“This wasn’t your fault," Cortain said. "You cannot blame yourself. Taqi cast those fire spells. You had no choice but to deflect them. Its cursed luck that she was hit, but it's testament to her skill that she survived at all. You cannot add this guilt to what you already carry. Your burden is heavy enough.”

“But add it I will,” the older man said. “I will always carry guilt with me, to the end of my days no doubt. But enough. Tell me, how do you propose to return to your homeland once you pass through the golden sands? It’s very far, is it not?”

“It is. But once I cross the ocean of sand, I will cross the ocean of water. A sea gate will shorten the journey. I have sent word to my master of my needs and my intentions. He will make the necessary preparations.”

Machieve bowed his head. “Then go with all haste and heal the daughter of my heart, and once she is well, bring her back to me so that I can see her, even if it's only to say goodbye, if she chooses to join you permanently. From the bottom of my heart, thank you for all you have done. I will always be eternally grateful. It is a debt that can never be repaid. Remember, while I live, the sands will always welcome you.”

“Thank you, friend.” Cortain clasped arms with Machieve.

“Not friends,” Machieve said, “but brothers!”