Azariah wakes us up earlier than usual that evening, well before sunset. It’s still hot enough outside that I flare my [Greater Heat Manipulation] and cover the team with a bubble of cool air. Venting the thermal energy back into the surroundings doesn’t do much to change the Barrens, since heating up the entire atmosphere is a few Thresholds of power beyond anything I’ll ever achieve. That’s the realm of myth and legends.
Thanks to Lionel’s ministrations after the fight with the White-Banded Stoats, our guide is able to set a demanding pace. Still, he grimaces and rubs some sort of paste onto the back of his thigh. I wonder if it’s an analgesic, since the deep puncture wounds looked painful even with Lionel’s healing to staunch the bleeding. Once Azariah applied the medicinal goop, he moves at a steady clip all throughout the golden hours before twilight, pushing our team to reach the town more quickly.
“Hey! Rush too much and all my exemplary work goes down the drain,” Lionel grumbles. “What's the big hurry anyway?”
Azariah coughs, clearing his throat and glancing back with a look that’s on the verge of annoyance. I get the sense that he’s still not used to teaching his clients. “I wanna shop the night market. If we drag our heels, then we’ll have to stay in town until two more days go by. They take off every other night. Don’t feel like wastin that much travel time.”
For the next few hours, we keep our own counsel. In the thick and sullen silence, it doesn’t go unnoticed that Azariah does all the navigation. Rakesh casts a few wistful glances at our guide, but the [Researcher] has the good sense not to speak up. Nonetheless, he looks forlorn without anything to do; the long, physical trek is hardly the best match for his scholarly talents.
A bright smudge on the otherwise dark line of the horizon is the first indication that we’re drawing near to our destination. With a low chuckle of glee, Azariah breaks into a jog. “Feast yer eyes on Halmuth. Finally, a chance at a decent bath to get rid of all this blasted sand!”
Lit by rows of glowing crystals twice as tall as a man, which appear to be powered by the biggest raw mana stones I’ve seen, the town of Halmuth shines in the darkness. Everything is dun-colored, from the five-storey buildings to the tall walls that slope up and away from the town like a cresting wave frozen in time. I squint, looking just a bit closer with the help of my Domain, and confirm my suspicion. The walls are totally smooth at their rounded top.
Azariah points toward the wall with his stubby hand and grunts in appreciation. “Smart folk built this place. See those curved walls? That’s to prevent the bigger, aggressive monsters of the Barrens from climbing into town—that, or enemies with a grappling hook.”
“Uh, [Smokeborn Pathfinder] Azariah? Sir? Uh, how large are these beasts, precisely?” Rakesh asks. His voice cracks as he hurries up to the front of the line to talk with our guide. He glances around the windswept wastelands, cinches his pack straps tighter, and gulps.
“Bigger than ya wanna know, lad,” Azariah answers with surprising cheerfulness, a huge grin splitting his bearded face. He leers at the scholar, his eyes growing wide and crazed. “Best keep a sharp lookout if you wander around without me to warn ya off. Some of em can swallow up your entire team in a single gulp.”
“Careful you don’t mislead our dear [Researcher], Azariah,” Melina says, her voice caught between amusement and annoyance. “He treasures every word you say like it’s pure gold. Don’t squander his trust.”
“Peh! A little foolin never hurt nobody. He’s a smart man. He’ll get it sorted. Now step lively, and let me do the talkin when the [Hunters] stop us at the gates.”
“Not [Guards]?” I ask, moving closer.
“Too fancy for these parts. [Guards] for civilization,” Azariah explains, seeming pleased to have a captive audience. “Nah. Out here, need more damage. Law-abidin ain’t a problem, let me tell ya. Ya get one warnin here. Then—”
Azariah stops in his tracks abruptly, drawing his hand across his throat with a grim look on his face. “Lemme repeat that. Do not push yer luck. Be smart, keep yer head down, and let me hook ya up with a license to sell yer glass. If you’re caught sellin goods without a license it ain’t pretty. So don’t. Hear me?”
Fervent nods meet Azariah’s grim pronouncement. He softens slightly, baring his teeth in a squared-off grin. “Good. Let’s do this.”
When we approach within a few hundred feet, a great pressure buzzes against my soul, like the unsettling gaze of a hidden predator. Panic courses through me. Memories of the Rift and my time at Scalpel’s come roaring back, and I scream in anger.
Instinct guides me. I shove back against the pressure with my [Arcane Domain], seeking to wound whatever’s attacking me. An instant later, I drop the Skill in pain as something sizzles and burns against my soul.
I grit my teeth, barely suppressing a scream at the shock, and sway on my feet, dizzy and light-headed. Thrusting my bare hands into the furnace without [Greater Heat Manipulation] running is more bearable than whatever just happened. The sheer intensity leaves me shaken.
“Nuri!” Lionel cries, dashing over to me. His mana spins up smoothly, empowering his second set of Skills, and he places a hand on me in preparation to heal me. His brow creases in puzzlement as he realizes I’m not hurt, however.
“What was that? You all right?”
The agony fades as soon as I release my Domain. I let out a long, shuddering breath to clear my nerves, and nod at my friend. “I’m fine, Lio. Thanks.”
Just then, I sense a flurry of activity up ahead. “Incoming!” I warn Azariah, keeping my voice low. “Intense mana signatures. Someone is not happy.”
“What didja do?” our guide snarls. “You riled up the [Hunters] good, ya fool! Drop yer weapons. Now, ya imbeciles.” Leading the way by example, Azariah’s smoke swirls back into his pipe and goes inert. He kneels down, hands on his head, and looks at the ground like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.
I sigh, kneeling down in the sandy dirt and gesturing for everyone to follow my lead. With a few shrugs they copy me, placing their weapons on the ground like Azariah insisted. Mikko shoots a smug look my way, and I faintly hear him whispering to Melina that she owes him since I got into trouble before we even got into town.
A pair of spear-wielding [Hunters] race out from the gates in a blur, each astride a heavy lizard larger than a draft horse. The creatures run with an odd gait, but they’re incredibly quick; within a few seconds, they’re circling us, pointing their weapons at our team.
The shorter of the two [Hunters] hangs in the back, assessing us while her partner rides up ahead. Her dark hair is pulled up into a bun, and she carries a round shield in addition to a spear. She takes the lead in the conversation, however. “Name and business!”
“[Smokeborn Pathfinder] Azariah! I’m registered in Halmuth,” our guide bellows. “Leadin a group of Mages, crafters, and a [Healer] to Gilead. There’s no need to—”
“Silence,” the hunter closest to me growls, his words grating out like the tortured screech of a heavy bar of iron dragging across stone, and Azariah instantly obeys.
His colleague lowers her long, leaf-bladed spear, which sparks with mana in my sight—a clear sign of enchantments—and slides her fearsome lizard mount forward until the sharp point kisses Azariah’s neck. Her voice is ice, all-too-composed, but her breath is rapid, which tells me that she’s holding back raw fury. “Who tore a hole in our mana barrier? Speak now, or die.”
I speak up quickly, not wanting to let things escalate. “Apologies. It was reflexive when I felt the barrier. I’ll keep it under control. May I show you the Royal Army writ I have in my pack?”
The [Hunter]’s eyes widen. “Move slowly, [Mage]. Any actions construed as threatening toward Halmuth will result in death.”
I force myself to breathe as normally as possible. With exaggerated slowness, I dig into an inner pocket of my pack with my right hand, extracting the writ I received from Nicanor, which also bears Casella’s name and rank. I lean forward and place it on the sand, then shuffle back on my knees and place my right palm and left wrist on my head to show that I’m not preparing to attack them.
The first [Hunter] nudges his mount with knees and clicks his tongue in a peculiar rhythm that sounds like a dream beat. The lizard’s long, purplish tongue darts out from its scaly jaws, sticking to the writ and dragging it back into its maw, where it’s held delicately between ridges of teeth. Another click, and the lizard turns its head completely upside down, never once taking its bulging eyes off me, and offers the folded paper to the [Hunter].
“Good girl,” he murmurs. He pats the lizard’s frilled neck before taking the writ, a ghost of a smile on his stern face at our gasps of surprise when the lizard twists its head around again, as though it can dislocate its joints. He withdraws a bronze set of intricately-etched goggles from his back, places them on his head, and flicks a switch. A glimmer of mana covers the device as he scans the paper, presumably to check its authenticity.
“Well? Legit?” his partner demands.
He nods toward her. “Seems like they’re on official business. Best to let them through if they can behave. Don’t like it, though. A stunt like that at the wrong time could be catastrophic.”
“Thank you,” I say. “Sorry about the slip up. It won’t happen again.”
“See that it doesn’t,” he hisses. Then he frowns, peering closer at the enchanted paper I got from the Royal Army. “Says here that you’re a [Glassworker]? How in the abyss?”
“Long story,” I reply, chuckling. I mean for it to sound friendly, but it comes out strained. I sound suspicious to my own ears. “Look, I mean to sell items at the night market. That gonna be a problem?”
“Not as long as you get the right credentials,” the [Hunter] replies, frowning at my team. The tightness around his eyes betrays his barely-restrained anger, but the writ seems to have him rattled. He glances at his colleague, who shrugs. “You have wares with you? Don’t see a sled or wagon.”
“We’ll take commissions. Tends to attract more customers when they see us shaping the glass live without a forge,” I explain.
“I got an understandin with Totten,” Azariah says, interrupting. “Let’s put this behind us and get movin, yeah?”
The [Hunter] in charge huffs. “Better not be lying. We’ll have to clear this with Totten, but you haven’t won yourself friends.”
“Understood!” I say.
After a moment of hesitation, the [Hunter] in command nods. She waves off her partner, who snorts and rides back toward town. “Fine. Let’s go talk to the boss. Totten’ll sort you out. We’re bringing you inside, for good or ill. Consider yourself under arrest until we say otherwise.”
“Not again,” Rakesh moans, but thankfully it’s so soft that I don’t think the [Hunters] hear him as we make our way to the walls.
Only a few stragglers wait outside the gates to get into Halmuth. They all make a point of looking away as our group travels by. Guilt by association is pretty dangerous in places like this, I muse. It doesn’t matter if they know us or not; out here, justice seems aggressive, prejudiced, and without remorse.
The [Hunters] don’t even have to speak. As we draw near the gates, the other travelers scuttle away. No one wants to be anywhere near a potential arrest, which clears the way for our passage through the single-file entrance created by a series of angled barricades. Four more [Hunters] line the barricade, armed to the teeth as they guard the way into Halmuth.
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Banter and trade chatter reaches my ear as we enter the gates, but the detail that truly catches my attention is the massive dent in the towering iron gates. The subdued feedback from the metal, like a low hum in my Domain, means it’s mana-reinforced, which makes me wonder what kind of horrifying monster could have caused the damage.
“No metal workers in Halmuth?” Mikko asks, drifting out of line for a moment to touch the gate with a hand. His forehead furrows in concentration. “This is recent. Needs to be fixed while the metal still remembers what it’s supposed to be.”
“Thought you were glass-makers?” the more talkative of the [Hunters] says, glaring at my brother. “You trying to pull a fast one?”
“They play with glass. I’m a respectable [Blacksmith],” Mikko declares, a haughty tone to his voice as he pokes fun at our long-standing crafting sibling rivalry. “I can prove it, if that’s the problem. Look, I’ll fix your gates for free if it makes up for the trouble with the mana barrier. Only fair, since my little brother’s to blame. Again.”
“Big brother,” I correct him.
“Totten will decide. Now shut it and move,” the [Hunter] in command barks, her hand on her spear and a surge of mana circulating through her channels.
“Listen to her and stand down,” I command. “We’re looking to make friends, not start any wars or make trouble. Well, any more trouble than I’ve caused.”
To my surprise, it’s Avelina who steps up and pats me on the back. “It’s all right, Nuri. We know you can’t help yourself. Never shoulda taken Mikko’s bet. You’re fate-touched.”
Chuckling quietly at Avelina’s teasing, we follow our guides through the sprawling night market. A riot of colorful streamers with icons of different wares—tents, bows, and other survival gear—transforms the dull, moonlit outpost into an extravaganza of trade. All around us, vendors are haggling and making merry as people beg and borrow, barter and buy.
Interspersed throughout the twisting warrens of lean-tos and pop-up stalls are purveyors of spiced wine, each of which Azariah patronizes. After the fourth one, I give him a strange look, but he scowls back at me and wags his finger.
“Gotta test em all. Understand? Before we leave, I aim to stock up on the best wine. And only the best!”
Lionel cheers at that pronouncement, but the [Hunters] shoot him a death glare. With a gulp, he falls silent. Before he can speak up again and irritate them, we arrive at a blocky stone building that’s tall enough to survey the entire town.
It’s ringed about with windows, like the panopticons I’ve read about in the capital prisons, affording the [Hunters] an unobstructed view of Halmuth. One of the wide glass window panes looks to be cracked and spiderwebbing, which ought to work in our favor. If we can repair the gates and the headquarters of the [Hunters], we might win back some good will.
Or at least avoid execution.
Forcing away the morose thought, I trudge inside and up the stairs to the main office of the man in charge. Overweight and dressed in dingy, stained-covered dark overalls, he doesn’t look much like a [Mayor] or [Lord], but the [Hunters] escorting us seem to respect him based on the way they two salute and greet him warmly.
I do a double-take when I finally see the face of the commander of the trading post, and I turn back to look at the [Smokeborn Pathfinder] in disbelief. I must be seeing double.
Totten’s almost as short and fat as Azariah. Aside from having hair, where our guide is completely bald, he looks like a long-lost cousin. They’re eerily similar, right down to the surly, suspicious gleam in their eyes and the perpetual grimace on each face.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” Totten drawls. He hooks his thumbs through the straps of his overalls.
Azariah inclines his head. “Totty.”
Totten’s entire face twists into a scowl, like he bit into something sour. He stretches out the straps on his overalls, releasing them with a snap. “Aw, c’mon! How many times I gotta tell you to stop calling me that? We aren’t kids digging in the dirt anymore.”
“You’re cousins!” I burst out in excitement, unable to keep from guessing. “Or, at least, you grew up together?” They frown at me in unison, but neither denies the allegation, so I push onward. “No wonder Azariah has a deal with you. Unlike most people, I love nepotism.”
A spear flashes in front of my face. “Who in the abyss do you think you are? Show some respect to the—”
“It’s fine,” Totten says, cutting off the [Hunter] before she can reprimand me further. “He’s got the shape of things, even if it’s not the full truth. Little Azzy and I go way back.”
Next to me, Lionel and Avelina snicker at the nickname, which earns them a tight-lipped stare from Azariah. Something tells me that he’s never going to live this one down.
Totten takes a writing slate from an assistant, scanning it silently. When he finishes, he grunts and sets it facedown on his desk. “Now, then, let’s get this mess sorted. Camryn, report. And put away that spear. Azariah’s clients are guests of Halmuth, not prey.”
“Guests don’t punch a hole in the mana barrier,” Camryn snaps. She clicks her tongue and withdraws the spear from my throat. “Apprehended this group for causing a disturbance and posing a threat to the town. Anyone capable of ‘accidentally’ disabling our defenses shouldn’t be welcome in Halmuth. Sir.”
The antagonism in Camryn’s statement rankles me. Now that I no longer have a spear threatening to slit my throat, I push past Azariah to stand in front of Totten. “So why’d you let us in if I’m such a threat? Convenient to leave out the rest of the story.”
Camryn bristles. “He also claims to have a writ from the Royal Army.”
“Gimme,” Totten demands, thrusting out a surprisingly large and rough hand, given his short stature. His amused expression is completely gone, replaced by a grim wariness. He looks me over again, this time like a [Rancher] preparing to hunt down a beast threatening his cattle, and snatches up the writ.
“Taj verified this?” Totten demands.
“Yes, but it could be forged.”
Totten scoffs. “That’s the entire point of verification, Camryn. It’s real. Which means we gotta stand down.”
“That’s absurd! He’s just a kid. You’re just gonna let him off easy because of a piece of paper and your old buddy showing up?”
“Never said anything about letting them off easy. They’ll pay, never fear. But no sense in killing them, not if the Royal Army is involved. Now, let’s get some introductions from the lot of you. Who are you, and what are you doing in my city?”
We go around the circle and offer our names and occupations. The fact that we’re all a bunch of crafters, dragging a frazzled scholar around on adventures, has Totten chortling and making fun of Camryn and Taj for their jumpiness.
When we get to my turn, and I introduce myself as Nuri, a [Glassworker] from Silaraon, Totten’s eyes widen. “Wait, aren’t you that big shot [Mage] from Mahkaiaraon?”
I rake my fingers through my hair and look around vacantly, playing dumb. “Who? You must have me confused with someone else.”
Totten nods his head enthusiastically, setting his jowly cheeks wobbling. “Can’t believe it took me so long to notice You’re disguised as a glassmaker and you only got one hand. I know it’s you. Don’t be shy, now. Got it on good authority that your team cleared out the old ruins last month and sacked the old city [Lord]. Whole network’s buzzing ‘bout it!”
“Care to buy some glassware?” I say, hoping to distract Totten from this new line of discussion. People act all funny when they think they’ve got you all figured out.
He scratches his chin. “Yeah, sure. Got any cups? My kids keep breaking ours. Need a set. Maybe half a dozen?”
“Done. Lionel? That’s all you.”
“You got it, boss. I’ll use [A Perfect Prototype]. Best glasses from here to the inland sea, guaranteed.” He laughs sheepishly. “Er, maybe. I don’t think we give refunds.”
“Ya do for Totten,” Azariah interjects. “Make the sly devil anything he asks for. Beg for forgiveness while you’re at it. Hear?”
Rakesh steps forward, holding up a hand. “Wait, how did you hear about Mahkaiaraon? That’s weeks away, and no caravans have traveled this direction ahead of us. We should know; we’ve been trying to hire them.”
Totten sniffs, rubs his nose with the back of his hand, and snickers. “Aha. Always the scholar. Interested in digging through my secrets, huh? Might give you an exclusive look at the Barrens’ comm network, as long as you can trade something valuable in exchange.”
“I’ll fix your front gate,” Mikko offers, winking at Rakesh. “That enough to earn him a look at whatever artifact you’ve got stashed away?”
“That’s a good start,” Totten replies evenly, “but it ain’t worth much considering that I already got a report from the [Hunters] at the gate that you offered previously to do it for free. No double dipping! What else you got?”
“We’ll replace your broken window,” I say.
“Bah, not enough glass around. No shop, either. Last [Glasser] retired and moved out to Loch LaMara a few years back. Stinkin inconvenient, if you ask me.”
“No problem. Give us access to the room for a few minutes, and we’ll take care of it,” I declare confidently.
His bushy eyebrows climb up his forehead like twin caterpillars. “A few minutes? That’s a big claim.”
I shrug. “It’s just glass.”
Totten claps his meaty hands together and lets out a deep, belly-shaking laugh. “Hear that, Taj? ‘It’s just glass’ he says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world to wave his hand and fix it. That’s the kind of drive that gets a glassmaker recognized by the Royal Army. Take notes!”
“We free to go?” Azariah asks.
“Not yet,” Totten says, his eyes narrowing as he regards Azariah shrewdly. “Services are not yet rendered. You’ll have to stay here with me until the window and gate are fixed. You’ll be collateral for your crew.”
“Got work to do,” Azariah grumbles.
“Then tell them to fix them fast!
“Ya always did drive a hard bargain, Totty. Well, get going!” Azariah bellows.
A stream of smoke curls up from his pipe, forming into two large hands that shove us toward the door. I’m caught off guard by how solid the gray smoke feels for the few seconds it pushes us. Yet when I run my hand through it, the smoke fades, evaporating away like it was never there. Neat Skill. Need to take a closer look sometime.
As we leave, I glance back over my shoulder to see him helping Totten pull a huge keg out from under the overseer’s desk. Greedy anticipation shines on each of their faces as they grin at the cask and high-five each other. Looks like they’ll have more fun tonight than we do.
Taj escorts us to the room with the broken window, and I frown at the huge crack in the glass. It’s tricky business fixing glass that’s already compromised. Patching it doesn’t look right, and simply using [Vitrification] on the whole thing might not leave it transparent enough.
“Think we need to melt the entire thing down and start afresh,” I say after a moment of thought. My announcement meets with grudging nods from the rest of the team. We all know that it’s the only permanent fix, even though it will take longer this way. Thankfully, our practice pays off. Avelina and I work together to heat up the glass evenly with our respective flames and heat, and soon it melts into a golden orb, held suspended in space by Melina’s Skill.
All of her hard work with [Lesser Object Manipulation] earned her a rank up during our trip through the Barrens, so she’s able to hold the molten glass in place and guide the flowing glass into the frame while Lionel uses [A Master’s Touch: Thirty Seconds of Greatness] to create a perfectly-smooth pane. It’s hardly an orthodox method, but that’s the marvel of a team working in conjunction. Our combination Skills are more powerful than even a senior [Glass Smith]’s solo Skills, by my estimation.
I wish Master Melidandri and Lady Evershed could see me now, I think fondly. Ember is already familiar with the way the four of us free-form glass without hot shop tools, but I’ve never seen or heard of any other team doing what we do. It’s exciting to think we’re on the forefront of our craft, and I wish I could share with the mentors who got me this far.
Once the glass is firmly wedged into the pre-existing frame—which I keep from bursting into flames with a thin layer of thermal management via [Greater Heat Manipulation]—I turn the show over to Avelina. She uses [Strong as Stone] to ensure that the pane won’t break again if it’s hit. Finally, Melina leans on her annealing Skill to hasten the process of bringing the glass back down to temperature without it cracking from the stress.
I back up and stroke my chin, examining it critically with my Domain to confirm that it’s all in place. “That was a bit delicate during the recreation phase, but we made it through. Nice job, everyone. I think we’re good here.”
“Just what kind of glass-makers are you?” Camryn asks us, her voice hitching a little at the end. Her hostility is forgotten for a moment as she stares at the pristine glass pane. “That was incredible.”
“It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen,” Taj says. He frowns at us. “Are you really crafters? Or are you [Mages] in disguise? I have a hard time believing that the Royal Army would care about glass.”
“Shows why you’re stuck here in the nether regions of the world, while we’re on our way to fame and fortune,” Lionel says, snickering.
The confrontational joking seems to return Camryn to her senses. She glares at us, and her hand strays to her spear again. “No trouble. Got it?”
“Ignore him,” I cut in, elbowing my friend out of the way. “But would we tell you if we were trying to hide our identities? Or would we so freely display what we can do?”
I roll my eyes at the two [Hunters] as they struggle with the logic behind my words. They seem loyal, but I expected them to be more cunning. They’re nothing but glorified watch dogs, from what I can tell.
I clear my throat pointedly. “Now that we’ve sorted the window, could we please get the gate taken care of next? We’ve got glassware to sell, and the night’s passing us by.”
“I want to know how it happened,” Melina says. “The mana barrier should keep out most monsters. What charges through a barrier with enough force to damage reinforced gates?”
The [Hunters] share a look. Camryn’s eyes go dark and stony. “Some questions are better left unanswered. Just pray you never run into that thing if you wanna live.”
There must be something wrong with me, because instead of fear, all I can conjure up is anticipation. I’ve got a few new tricks I’ve been meaning to try out in a fight if we find that thing. But first, Mikko has work to do. It’s time to fix Halmuth’s front gates.