Devrim snorts in laughter. “Ha! Problem solved. The [Magistrate] is safe, that hagfish Dimitri is dead, and we have this place surrounded. Easy.”
“Not likely,” Avelina says from her place in the center of our formation. She’s surrounded herself with guards, just in case Dimitri’s forces attack us, since she doesn’t have as many defensive capabilities as the rest of us. I suppose I should call them Saphora’s forces, now. “Don’t be so sure that this is over.”
“Nah,” Devrim replies, shrugging. He approaches [Lady] Saphora, power snapping and hissing around him as the dark, terrifying nimbus of his [Devour] Skill begins to activate. “The [Magistrate] will cow Nikolai into submission. That boy has always been spineless. All that’s left is the paperwork, the way I see it. Your scholarly friend should be happy.”
“He does enjoy paperwork,” I reply dryly, “but I wasn’t referring to Nikolai. Let’s talk this out before we resort to violence.” Even saying the word violence sends a thrum through my inner space, as though a parasitic presence in my soul is eager to lash out and fight. But Devrim listens, retreating and letting his Skill wink out.
[Lady] Saphora inclines her head again. She’s not nodding or bowing, but still indicating approval. “Sensible. I assume you’re here for your young friend? I’m sure we can work out an equitable arrangement before he’s too far gone.”
“Don’t fall for it,” Devrim hisses.
His words startle me. Fall for what? One glimpse of his frown, however, and I know he’s onto something. Saphora is trying to goad me into a reaction, although I’m not sure I know why. I’m still missing too much information. Trying to think feels like wading through a thick fog. All I know for sure is the anger burning in my chest at her threat.
“What do you hope to gain by holding him any longer?” I ask, forcing myself to moderate my voice. “You have what you want. Your rival’s bid for power failed—unless you were allied with Nikolai. You’re in sole charge of the city. What more do you need?”
“Strange, the way I hear it, the barking lapdog you brought with you is intent on installing the [Magistrate] in my rightful place. We’ll hand over the boy, as long as your forces stand down. You have until the end of the day for the [Magistrate] to evacuate town, along with his guards, and I’ll personally deliver your friend alive.”
The threat that Lionel won’t survive if we don’t comply hangs in the air. Beside me, Mikko growls aggressively. He spins his glass hammer, staring down [Lady] Saphora. This time it’s my turn to pull him back from the edge; it’s not a good sign if our positions have flipped. We need to figure out what’s going on before we launch into a fight we might not win. Who knows what kind of magic the [Lady] wields. As the new ruler of Mahkaiaraon and owner of the palace, she might have defensive measures within her domain that will invalidate our attacks.
“Buy time,” Devrim says softly, barely breathing out the words as he rubs his brow with his hand, covering up his face for a brief moment. “I’m sending Benaiah around back to find a way inside. Let’s solve this riddle.”
I swallow down the lump in my throat and take four slow steps forward, separating from my group but projecting a non-threatening demeanor by holding up an empty hand. “Let’s talk, [Lady] Saphora. Why drive a wedge any further between the guards working to keep this city safe? It seems like making peace is in your best interest.”
Saphora lifts her veil, revealing a woman who looks younger than Ember, but at least a decade older than I am. A look of distaste flickers across her features, and she holds up a hand to stop my advance. “Agreed. Peace is preferable, particularly while our city mourns the passing of my wonderful husband. He did more for Mahkaiaraon than you could ever know. He loved this city to the core of his being. That’s why I’m offering you a path forward that’s best for all of us, and allows you to live, out of respect for his memory. I will not be so patient forever.”
Huh. She sounds like she actually cared for [Lord] Dimitri. Rakesh thought it was all an act, but I don’t think that’s correct. Guess it doesn’t matter now.
“Understand that I do not speak for the [Magistrate]. We’ll have to convince him that this is the best course of action,” I reply, frowning. I let all my frustration and worry show on my face, as though I’ve subconsciously already accepted her offer, and I’m just trying to convince myself that there’s a way to salvage the situation.
“I suggest you hurry,” [Lady] Saphora says, matching my frown. “If you don’t have any bargaining power, then your friend is no longer useful to me.”
“[Lady] Saphora,” I say stiffly, “please reconsider your plan. You appear well informed about the affairs of your town, but it seems that you’re gravely mistaken as pertains to my team. I am here as a representative for the Inquisitors. They’ve tasked me with putting an end to the monster attacks in town, and have authorized me to take any action necessary to ensure the safety and well-being of the citizens of Densmore.”
If my declaration fazes her, then she doesn’t let on in the least. I let out a heavy sigh, as though I’m struggling to make a hard decision. Truthfully, it’s not hard at all; I’ll never abandon my friend. “Please don’t try to make me choose between saving one subordinate and putting an end to the illegal and dangerous practices of your late husband. It won’t change anything in the long run, other than make an enemy of me as I carry out my duty.”
Saphora shrugs expressively. “We’re already enemies. I don’t expect us to become allies anytime soon. We might be able to work together out of convenience, but it’s transactional. You are mistaken on point, however. If you insist on rejecting my offer, then it certainly does change something: your friend will likely not survive the night. Either way, I run this town now. We’re not bartering. Right now, I’m simply showing mercy.”
I shake my head. “No, you wouldn’t be here in person if you just wanted concessions in exchange for a prisoner. You’re playing another game.”
[Lady] Saphora arches a slender, meticulously-shaped eyebrow. “Are you willing to bet your friend’s life on that hypothesis? Sign a magically-enforced contract, get the [Magistrate] to do the same, and we’ll put all of this behind us.”
“Give me some assurances,” I demand.
“Of what? My sincerity? You wound me!” [Lady] Saphora says. She lets out a theatrical sigh. “I had such high hopes for you, too. The Inquisitors must be getting desperate.”
I shake my head, my natural stubbornness rising to the surface and helping my charade along. “Show us proof that Lionel is well. You want me to take drastic steps on your behalf, yet expect me to simply accept in good faith that my subordinate is unharmed.”
“Unharmed?” Saphora taps her forefinger to her chin. “I wouldn’t say that, precisely. The longer you dither and delay, the worse off he gets. Don’t worry, though. The little [Healer] will be fine, as long as you come through with your side of the arrangement. His magic is pathetically weak, but sufficient to keep himself alive. The clock is ticking, however. I await your reply—but know that my patience only extends so far.”
“Don’t you dare touch him,” Avelina says, her voice trembling with fury and fear in equal measure. It’s impossible to miss the way her hands shake, and I can practically feel the waves of fear radiating off her.
I shouldn’t have pushed her to fight before. This is my fault. I need to make it up to her.
I almost attack right then, for Ava’s sake, but something about Saphora makes me wary of making a mistake. She’s got to have a trick up her sleeve to parade herself around so openly. There’s no way she’d risk it otherwise.
[Lady] Saphora smiles demurely. “A little late for that, fire-touched mage. Oh, yes, I’ve heard all about you. Even so, he shouldn’t die. Even with his feeble starting Skills, he can mend himself if required.” All at once, another detail seems to click into place, and my perspective shifts. Something about Saphora’s bearing seems too relaxed to be real, as though she’s playacting instead of actually feeling in control. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I marshall the might of my [Arcane Domain] to pierce beyond the veil and peer into her core space, just like I did against Devrim earlier in the day.
If I’m wrong about her, then pushing my most demanding Skill this hard is a massive waste of mana. A moment later, I smile grimly as I peer into her inner space. It doesn’t take long to find the confirmation I seek, and I let the costly Skill drop. I’d rather not use it again today if I can help it; I feel wrung out and frayed, like my body can’t handle the flood of power.
I can’t read the exact names of each of Saphora’s elaborate Skill structures, like Scalpel could when she delved into people’s inner worlds, but one thing is clear: the runic characteristics they share in common remind me strongly of Lionel’s Skills. No wonder she’s confident about his exact healing capabilities. She was tending to [Lord] Dimitri while he was convalescing, after all. They’re not so different; she’s simply further along the [Healer]’s path than he is.
My smile turns sharp-edged. “How long can you keep up this farce, I wonder?”
“I beg your pardon?”
I ignore her icy tone. My certainty grows as I scan her again, confirming the purpose of further runes that I vaguely recognize from my time with my tormenter and reluctant teacher.
“Tell me,” I declare imperiously, raising my voice so that her henchmen on the walls can clearly hear my allegations. “Do Dimitri’s remaining guards know that you’re only pretending to be a [Lady]?”
“You have until nightfall,” Lady Saphora replies after a pause so brief that I almost fear I’ve imagined it. A small door set within the gates opens, and she turns and glides back inside her fortress. The heavy, iron-banded door clangs shut behind her with finality.
If my words struck home, then she’s doing an admirable job of hiding it. I don’t think my sight is wrong, though. I know what I uncovered. The only real question is whether or not her deception will matter to the guards.
A dark chuckle from Devrim pulls me back out of my thoughts. He claps a hand on my shoulder and pulls me away from the gates, gesturing for the rest of the guards to follow. “I said to buy time, not to make things personal. Right now you're just opponents of circumstance; keep up the act, and you're likely to earn a mortal enemy.”
I open my mouth to protest, but he smirks and cuts me off. “All good. The show was well worth the trouble. Didn’t think you’d throw her off her game so handily. Gives us time to regroup while Benaiah scouts out a place to infiltrate without a direct confrontation.”
“I’m not above confrontation,” I fume as I walk away from the gates with bitterness. I’m not sure taking our time is the right play, although I believe Saphora was telling the truth that we have until nightfall. I hope Lionel forgives me for not breaking down the gates and charging into the breach.
“Me neither, but better if we have a solid plan.” Devrim marches us a few hundred paces back, directing us to a small copse of trees where we can hide from view while we discuss the offer. We sit on a fallen log to confer, while the rest of the guards form up a defensive perimeter around us in case of a sneak attack.
Devrim pulls a length of jerked meat from his pack and tears it in half. He chews on one piece, handing me the other. “How’d you guess she’s not a real [Lady], anyway? Seems like you hit a nerve.”
I squint at him, crossing my arms to convey my displeasure, then finally relent and take the offered snack. “Told you. Casella taught me Viewing. That should tell you something about my standing. After everything you’ve seen from my team, you still doubt my story?”
“Huh.” Devrim says. He scratches the back of his head. His eyes narrow, as though he’s working through the implications of my claim. “So, what is she?”
“A [Healer],” I say defiantly, chewing on the tough strip of meat. Devrim doesn’t react, so I shrug and admit the full truth. “Well, I don’t know for sure. Can’t see Classes yet. I need more practice. I’m just going off the runes I recognized in her Skills.”
That earns me raised eyebrows. He whistles. “You’re sure? Never heard of that kind of runic analysis before. Odd ability for a [Glassworker].”
I crack a smile. “I’ve taken a meandering route. Picked up a few things here and there.”
“You don’t say,” Devrim deadpans.
“Now, what’s our plan? Has Benaiah reported back yet?” I ask.
“You called?”
I flinch, dropping the hunk of jerked meat on the log, and barely manage to keep my seat as Benaiah speaks into my ear. “How’d you do that? I didn’t even sense you at all. My passive mana sense should have noticed once you were within a few steps.”
The [Hawkeye Scout] smirks in response. “You’re not the only one with secrets. [Scout]’s a sneaky class, haven’t ya heard?”
“Let’s have a rematch when I’m not so drained,” I reply quietly, thinking of how I might be able to hone my [Arcane Domain] with Benaiah’s help. Rattled, I pick up the piece of jerky and wolf it down, chewing while I regain my composure.
“Sure, we can play hide and seek,” Benaiah says, a mischievous spark in his eyes that makes me think he’s even harder to find than I suspected. “But let’s stay on track. There’s a [Servant]’s entrance halfway down the hill. Almost missed it at first, but I found recent mana tracks. Looks like a [Porter] used the tunnel to deliver goods a few days ago.”
Benaiah can see the trails people leave, and figure out who they were and what they were doing based on the leftover mana? Intriguing! Now that’s a Skill I’d love to get enchanted onto a handheld device. Maybe a compass? We could use that for the future.
“Guarded?” Devrim interrupts.
Benaiah spits to the side. “Nah. They’re sloppy. Didn’t see anyone on the walls, either. Everyone’s putting on a show of strength over here for your benefit, but I’ll bet they have fewer fighters than you do. Well, good luck!”
“You’re not coming with us?” I ask when the [Hawkeye Scout] stands up, stretches, and strides off toward the city walls.
“Nah. Ain’t looking to get turned into a pincushion! I did extra scouting for free. You’re welcome. All on you, now.”
As I watch Benaiah retreat into the woods and disappear from my senses, slipping into stealth, I can’t help but think that he’s the only sensible one among us. I hope we aren’t making a terrible mistake infiltrating the fortress.
=+=
For the first hundred paces, the service tunnel doesn’t seem too bad. No soldiers, no fighting, no creeping spiders. Devrim broke down the door with a single snap-kick, reminding me just how strong [Soldiers] can become. His powerful kick splintered the wood and disintegrated the lock, but one of the [Guards] muffled the sound with a Skill designed to allow the town guards to sneak up on criminals.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
We left the majority of the [Guards] by the gates, where they entrenched themselves into defensive positions, and ordered them to send a few runners back and forth to the guard house, just to keep up appearances. If our luck holds, then Saphora’s forces will keep watch on them, waiting for me to return with a message from the [Magistrate].
And if our luck turns . . .
I don’t finish the thought, forcing myself instead to turn my attention to the fortress ahead of us. I don’t want to rely on my [Arcane Domain] for reconnaissance if at all possible. Just the thought of channeling that much raw power sets my teeth on edge. Still, we need an accurate assessment of what we’re walking into; the last thing we want is to emerge into a trap and end up imprisoned right alongside Lionel.
The long tunnel surprises me with how much headroom I have. I suppose that’s to allow room for delivery carts and large objects, but I’m glad for the regular mana lamps and relatively clean floors and walls. It’s not as cave-like as I feared.
“Sensing movement ahead,” Nala whispers. She’s been tense ever since her cousin left us to our fate, which makes me appreciate her commitment to help us all the more. “Uchenna, take point. Shield up.”
“On it. Stay behind me.”
We form up behind Uchenna, with Devrim second in line, and pick up the pace. At first, that seems illogical to me, but our sounds are still muffled. Perhaps the element of surprise will work to our advantage, allowing us to get the drop on our enemies.
A heavy grate at the end of the tunnel bars the way into the fortress basement proper, but Uchenna doesn’t slow down. Instead, he accelerates, with Devrim’s hand on his back as they charge together.
Uchenna’s shield glows brightly in my mana senses, gaining weight and definition that catch me off guard. I didn’t see any enchantments on it before, other than a one-time boost to the protective shielding that Devrim mentioned. That means it’s a Skill at work right now, and not Uchenna’s based on the sheer intensity and scope of the magic. The fulminating power makes me suspect Devrim at work. Sure enough, the shield takes on [Devour]’s characteristic dark fire, wreathed in so much of the magic that its edges are warping under the force of the power.
The impact blasts the metal grate apart, flinging shards of dark, heavy iron into the wall opposite from the service tunnel. My teeth rattle from the force of the collision, but I don’t dare slow down and trip up the people behind me.
Up ahead, a cry of alarm echoes through the tunnels. A pair of guards rouse themselves from a game of chance, sending cards scattering everywhere. One dashes toward a set of stairs and scurries away, while the second guard grabs his axe and hurls it toward us.
The hastily-thrown weapon thunks into Uchenna’s shield harmlessly, and Nala darts out from behind her partner, her baton whirling in her hand. She smashes it against the guard’s bare head with a meaty thump. Without the protection of a helmet, he drops to the floor like a sack of potatoes.
“After the other guard!” Devrim roars. “If he calls in reinforcements, this fight gets twice as hard. With me. Charge!”
A bloody aura washes over us as he activates another Skill—this one likely related to his command over the battlefield. Reinvigorated, we dash up the stairs behind the grizzled veteran, abandoning stealth for haste.
Three flights of stairs go by in a flash, and then we’re spilling out into the open hallways of the castle, in hot pursuit of the fleeing guard. I crash through a small wooden table, toppling over a decorative vase, and almost lose my balance. I draw on my borrowed glass mana cores to pull all the heat from the floor ahead of the guard, flash-freezing the flagstones as all of the residual, airborne moisture transforms into ice.
The guard hits the slick layer of ice and slips sideways. His arms windmill wildly, but his feet find no purchase to right himself. He slams into the stone wall of the corridor, rebounding and tumbling across the floor in a heap.
Once more, Nala blurs into action, bursting forward a half dozen steps without slipping on the ice, and clocks the man with her baton. Now that I’ve witnessed her rapid pursuit a second time, I’m fairly confident it’s a Skill for apprehending suspects. I’m always amazed at how varied Skills are, enabling every Class-wielder to more efficiently carry out duties.
I melt the ice, restoring the equilibrium of temperature in the corridor. The rest of the guards run after Nala, who slips back behind Uchenna’s protective shield. Working with a well polished team is eye-opening; my friends are talented, but there are advantages to simple yet strong abilities chained together in synergistic ways.
“Incoming!” Nala calls out, alerting us to more guards up ahead. She seems to have the most sensitive Skills aside from mine—and I’m not dipping back into [Arcane Domain] today, not if I can help it.
Pounding boots reach my ears. The rattle of sabers and spears announces the arrival of the bulk of the castle’s fighting force. They appear in the archway ahead of us, running shoulder to shoulder with shields up and at the ready. The force of their condensed mana hits me like a runaway cart, even without my [Arcane Domain] running. These are [Soldiers], or perhaps hired [Mercenaries]. They’re certainly not raw recruits like the other guards. This is a serious threat.
I stride forward, readying a blast of super-heated energy to cook them in their armor like crabs boiling in their shells. My mana sings within the glass cores, eager to flood my Skills and explode into a symphony of violence. Energy swirling around my fingertips, I step past Uchenna and take up a fighting stance.
“[Artillery Mage]!” Devrim bellows.
I falter. I don’t want to cancel my attack, not while I have the initiative, but I’m all alone in the middle of the hallway, exposed to a counter-attack. Caught in indecision, I’m stuck out in the open as an absolutely massive surge of mana builds up ahead of me.
Devrim tackles me before I can move, wrenching my body sideways and slamming me down to the floor. A split second later, a spell screams through the air where I just stood. I don’t need my mana senses running to see it; even with my face pressed into the floor, its coruscation is blinding. The after-image of the beam of pure, unbridled power is as thick as a tree trunk.
The vicious, churning mana empowering the attack froths and rages like a sea beset by a storm, even in the aftermath of the destructive bolt’s passage. The crackling energy makes the fine hairs on my neck stand on end, and my body begins to tremble when I realize I almost died.
“Shield’s out!” Uchenna screams. “Take out that [Artillery Mage], now, or we’re all dead!”
All around us, the guards scatter, relying on erratic movement to keep them safe rather than trying to shield the incoming bombardment. Uchenna doesn’t have the Skills necessary to block that caliber of magic now that the enchantment is broken. I’m honestly amazed that they even lived through the first salvo.
Devrim throws me to the side, discarding me like old tissue paper, and he sprints straight toward the danger. [Devour] blossoms over his head, opening like the sharp, obsidian petals of a deadly flower. The swirl of power is less voluminous than the [Artillery Mage]’s, which seems as vast as the ocean itself, but more concentrated.
For a brief moment, he disappears from view. The elite [Soldier] winks back into reality right in the middle of the enemy. Overwhelming pressure emanates out in a wave from him. For a long, frantic breath, my heart stops, unable to beat in the face of such power.
Devrim becomes fire.
Devrim becomes the blade.
Devrim . . . [Devours].
=+=
I’ve got to stop getting caught in the crossfire of apex-level attacks, I groan to myself. For the second time, my ears are ringing and my vision is doubled—tripled—more overlays than I can count. White-hot pain burns in my side, stabbing me with each breath. I’m fairly certain I broke something when [Devour] detonated, flinging me against the wall.
By the time I can see and move again, the enemy soldiers and [Mage] are all dead. Up ahead, a blackened hole has replaced the archway, letting in the sunlight from outside. Just how powerful is that ability to break a full-fledged [Artillery Mage]’s shield and destroy half the castle wall? The stones are at least two feet thick!
Behind me, the guards are huddled up behind Uchenna, with Avelina and Mikko in the center of their formation. They don’t appear wounded, but everyone’s slow to get up. Uchenna’s huge, expensive shield is slagged, torn into ribbons and pitted from the impact. The defensive enchantments they were so proud of are nowhere to be seen, burnt to a crisp by the monstrous attack that he blocked.
Avelina is clinging to Mikko’s neck. Her face is buried in his chest, and her entire body is shuddering, wracked with loud sobs. She doesn’t appear injured, at least not physically, which makes me feel worse. Trauma can leave deeper wounds than spells or swords.
This is my fault.
I turn back around, clenching my fist until my arm shakes with the tension of tightening my muscles so hard. I should never have pushed her to kill that [Battle Mage]. Melina tried to warn me, but I was too stubborn to listen. There was another way. There’s always another way to solve things.
Devrim limps out of the archway, breaking me out of my spiral. Leaning against the wall for support, he half-hops as he drags a bloody stump where his left foot used to be. He collapses in front of me, each breath a rattling, rasping thing, like his lungs are about to expire any second. His hands are shaking, and his fingers are curled up and skeletal, but he tugs at the neck of his tunic. On his third, pitiful try, he succeeds in pulling off the tattered remains of his tunic, and binds it around the wound.
I glance down, expecting spurts of blood from the severed artery. I’m frantically readying my [Greater Heat Manipulation] to cauterize his calf before he bleeds out, but the flesh already appears like it’s been scabbed over for weeks. It oozes a little, turning my stomach even further, and I blink and shuffle a step back before I lose my lunch.
Looking more dead than alive, the [Soldier] hangs his head, slumping against the wall near me. His muscles are shriveled, eaten away by the force of his vengeance. His skin hangs loose, wrinkled and strangely gray, as though it’s been burnt.
Like ash.
“Drank too deep this time.” He laughs hoarsely, and his head lolls to the side. His eyes are still blinking, though. He seems too tough to die on the spot. “[Sergeant] always warned us better to threaten with [Devour]. ‘Don’t actually use it unless it’s an abyssal emergency. Death ain’t much of a solution.’ That’s what he said,” Devrim wheezes. Phlegm dribbles from his lips.
“You old fool,” Nala says softly, shuffling up beside us. She’s cradling her left shoulder in her other hand. Her eyes glisten with tears. She juts out her chin toward Devrim’s broken body. “This wasn’t worth it. Coulda figured something out.”
Devrim whips his head around, fixing Nala with a glare. He bares his teeth in a ferocious, blood-stained smile. “You’re all alive. Regret nothing. [Sergeant] was an idiot.”
Nala rubs her eyes with the back of her hand. She sniffs, then nods at Devrim. “Right. I’ll round up the troops. Let’s get moving, everyone! Uchenna, you take the squad and deal with that snake Saphora. Watch yourselves, ya hear? She’s probably got artifacts. Nobles always spend a premium on protection. Nothing’s too expensive if it saves their skin. Cai, take Devrim back to the guard house. I’ll go with Nuri and find his friend.”
“Leave me be,” Devrim mumbles.
“Let’s get you sorted,” Cai says, hoisting up Devrim’s body with shocking ease. The old [Soldier]’s formidable bulk is gone, as though he fueled the devastating Skill with his own flesh and blood.
I shiver. Maybe he did.
“Put . . . down. Order,” he gurgles.
“You hear something?” Cai asks, twisting his pinkie in his ear. “Think something’s messin with my hearing. Guess I’ll head back to the guard house to get it checked out. Good luck, Nala. You too, Nuri.”
Cai salutes and marches resolutely back toward the stairs leading down to the service tunnel. Based on the expression on his face, he’s taking things personally.
Immediately, I remember that they were standing watch together when we returned from the Rift. Devrim saved Cai during the ambush. A surge of emotion wells up within me. This is his chance to pay back the favor. I hope I can do the same for Lionel.
=+=
Five minutes of searching later, we locate the cell blocks. The dungeon is down on the lower floor, but on the opposite side of the service tunnel where we entered. The guards have fled, or perhaps Devrim killed them all if they were with the group that he [Devoured]. I shudder, hoping I never see that attack again.
Only one cell is occupied. The door is padlocked, but no one’s blocking our path. Nala hits the lock with her baton, and a burst of mana signals that she’s used a Skill to unlock the rudimentary lock. She heaves the door open, beckoning me to enter.
“Lionel!” I cry out, rushing over to fling my arms around my friend, who’s chained to the wall and hunched over. I reach him only a split second before Mikko and Avelina follow suit. We embrace him, not letting him go.
“Hey, boss. Long five minutes.”
“Sorry, Lio,” I whisper, wiping my tears on his cloak. “We should have stuck together.”
“It was my fault. I insisted that you scout ahead,” Mikko says, his voice thick with guilt and relief. “Never letting you out of my sight again. We’re a team. We’re sticking together from now on.”
“I’ll allow it,” Lionel croaks, his voice gruff. He coughs. “Ow! Stop squeezing so tight, you big dummy.”
Mikko steps back, releasing Lionel from the rib-crushing dogpile. “Forgive me?”
“Depends. Got any water?”
Mikko blinks, poleaxed by the response, and then bursts out laughing. “Haven’t broken your spirit, huh?”
“Lack of water might do the trick,” Lionel says, chuckling weakly. “Hey, how about these chains? Can’t you use some awesome [Blacksmith] Skill to get rid of ‘em?”
“Nala, can you find a key for the manacles?” I call. “Lionel’s still chained to the wall.”
“Lio’s right. [Strength of the Forged Gods] is faster,” Mikko says. He grasps the chains in his big hands, channeling mana into his Skill and tugging on the links. They pull apart like paper garlands, freeing our friend.
“Nuri? I think you’ll want to hear this.” Rakesh’s voice drifts into my mind, thanks to [Echo of the Songbird], making me jump. “Melina found a lead.”
“Perfect time. We found him!” I shout in excitement. “Lionel’s all right! Mikko just tore off Lionel’s chains with his bare hands, and it was awesome!”
“What a relief! I’ll let Melina know. She’s chewed her fingernails to nubs worrying about all of you.”
“Thanks. We’ll head back with Lionel, but the guards are still working to take Saphora into custody. She’s the one who married Dimitri. We’ve gotta get out of here before we’re caught in the crossfire—sounds loud upstairs.”
“Is everyone all right?” Rakesh asks. He’s breathing rapidly, and I’m concerned he’ll fall into a panic if I tell him that Lionel’s bruised and beaten, and Avelina is still shaking so hard that Mikko has to hold her up to keep her from collapsing. Her eyes are glassy, staring off into the distance.
“Sure. Sure,” I lie, biting my cheek and hoping Rakesh won’t pick up on the odd hitch in my voice. I leave Lionel to Nala, Avelina, and Mikko, backing out of the cell and finding a quiet spot to continue talking. “But it’s not a bad idea to have a [Healer] on standby to help when we get back, y’know? Hey, we’ll talk later. Tell me what you’ve got,” I reply tersely, my hand pressed against my bruised rib. Breathing and speaking are far from comfortable right now, but I grit my teeth and push through the pain.
“Turns out when you plant corrupt seeds, you gain a rotten harvest,” Rakesh says. He sighs dramatically, as though he can’t believe the horrific story he’s about to tell me.
I allow myself a slight smile.
“One hundred seventeen years ago, a different family ruled this region. An offshoot of a Ducal family that had fallen on hard times, they were influential enough to rule, but no longer well-connected enough to keep the region prosperous. The heir disappeared one day, and after a year of infighting, a new power claimed Mahkaiaraon. And listen to this! The new ruler of the city, [Lord] Dimitri’s ancestor, was an [Enchanter] by trade.”
“The enchanted corpse we found was the rightful heir?” I guess, my mind racing ahead. “They murdered him and hid him in a Rift. Clever—and disturbing. That raises more questions than it answers.”
“I’ve already called the Inquisitors. They’re coming with Ezio to take a deeper look at the Rift and investigate the region. We won’t have to figure this out on our own.”
“Thanks, Rakesh,” I say softly. “This will definitely shake things up. Now it’s come full circle. Neither Nikolai or Saphora will win the crown. I doubt we’ll find any long-lost relatives of the original rulers, but it seems like the [Magistrate] has things well in hand. He’s got the guards on his side, so let’s hope that will be enough backing.”
“We’ll see,” Rakesh says, but he doesn’t sound convinced. He clears his throat. “Hurry back. Melina looks worried. And I can’t maintain the connection much longer, not at this great of a distance. It’s burning through my mana reserves like a graduate student through ale.”
“Of course,” I say. My mind is still reeling from processing all the strange revelations. But sorting through the mess in Mahkaiaraon can wait. Other people will rebuild this city and restore it to its former glory—through legitimate means, this time. I wish them well. For now, I’m just happy to have my friend back.
We’re a team, through thick and thin. Nothing can keep us apart. I’m sure that will never change. I just hope I haven’t caused any irreparable harm by my reckless decision-making. I’ve always been impulsive, and I’ve often paid for my mistakes, but it’s different when it’s my friends who foot the bill.
I shake off the uncomfortable thoughts and duck back into the cramped cell.“All right, friends. That was Rakesh. He’ll arrange for a [Healer] to take care of us when we get back. Let’s head to the guard house. I’ve had enough of this place. Nala, you can join the fight upstairs if you want. Thanks again for your help.”
She shakes her head stubbornly. “I said I’d come with you. I’m seeing things through. I’ll get you back to headquarters. You can count on me. Come on, let’s get moving.”
“Thanks,” I whisper, grateful that someone else is taking the lead. My bones feel like lead, my ribs are on fire, and my head is pounding. Adventure is a lot less glamorous than it’s cracked up to be.
“Wow, she’s a better boss than you are. Finally, someone brings me water!” Lionel pipes up when Nala hands over her canteen. He takes a series of short, cautious sips, sighs, and wipes his mouth with his sleeve.
“Love you too, Lio,” I mutter.
Mikko snorts out a laugh. “I missed your cheeky humor, buddy. Glad you’re back.”
“Me too,” I say, managing a crooked, half-hearted smile. “Let’s meet back up with Rakesh and Mel. The team feels incomplete when we’re apart.”
“Got that right,” Lionel says. “I’m happy you found me. Thanks for coming to get me. I never doubted you. Did you know that? I’m just teasing about the water, Nuri. You’re still my best friend, and my favorite boss.”
I smile, and this time it's for real.