Was it seven dots or nine? With a curse, Ihra dropped the chalk and scurried over to Aphora’s manual, which she’d propped against one of the stone benches Jasper had broken. Seven. In a flash, she’d scampered back to the center of the ritual circle and, reclaiming her chalk, filled in the necessary squiggles in the fourth triangle. Only halfway there.

Her supplies were scattered haphazardly around her, thousands of gold coins worth of powders and ingredients tossed aside with a reckless abandon that would usually make her heart grow faint. But she didn’t have the time to worry about the money now.

The pressure of the ritual beat down on her, a violent, raging tempest that howled impotently against the protections around her mind. She wasn’t worried for herself or even Jasper; the runes she’d carved into her calf and the amulet Marīltu had provided him would protect the two of them from anything short of divine intervention, but the people of Birnah had no such protections, and she wasn't sure what the mage's limits were - especially with whatever ritual he was currently performing. Got to stop him before he finishes.

Her attention was drawn from the circle as the howls of Jasper’s specters rose above the mage’s droning chant and the beating of the rain against the roof. She spared a glance, watching as the hungry ghosts pounced upon the armored guards swarming around him, only to be banished a moment later when a bright flare of light flashed from one of the guards’ hands. Kruvas̆ - is one of them a mage?

Her vision of the battle was obscured as Jasper burst into flames, and she turned her attention back to the circle, trusting him to keep them at bay. One more rune. It took another minute to fill it in, a minute that felt like an eternity amidst the battle, but a minute nonetheless. Tossing the chalk aside, she checked the ritual one last time for any obvious errors but noticed nothing. Hope it holds.

Plopping herself down in the center of the rune, she opened herself up to the strange, exotic energy that powered the rituals. It bubbled up from the pit of her stomach, a well without end that rapidly overflowed its bounds and spilled over into the circle. The light of the candles faded into nothingness as the rune's vibrant glow banished all shadows, and the mage finally stopped his chanting long enough to notice what she was doing. “What is that? Stop whatever you're-”

The invisible barrier flickered into view as a surge of energy from the ritual hammered it. It glowed brightly, cracks racing across its surface as Ihra continued to channel the essence until, overwhelmed, it shattered. Her eyes snapped open at the sound and she met Rahmû’s gaze.

There was a touch of fear in his eyes, but the confidence hadn’t fully abandoned him. “I command you to stop,” he ordered imperiously. Heat flared in the runes carved into her flesh, but it didn’t stop her from surging forward, drawing Aphora’s misericorde as she leaped.

His eyes widened, confidence replaced by panic, and his hands began to twist with a spell, but it was too late. The dagger slashed through his throat and continued on a downward trajectory until it hit his wrist. She wasn’t quite strong enough to chop through the limb altogether, but it was enough to fizzle whatever spell he’d been preparing. He sank to his knees, desperately clutching at his ruined throat with one hand while he fumbled in his pouch with the other, no doubt looking for a healing potion. Ihra put an end to that ambition. The mindworm toppled over as her blade punched through his left eye, finally allowing her to see what was sitting on the altar.

Encased in a thick glass vase, a desiccated eye hung suspended in an amber liquid. The vase sat in a pool of blood, and the eye rapidly twitched as it somehow drank in the offered sustenance despite the glass in between. For a moment, its gaze fixed on her with something resembling intelligence before it resumed its frenzied twitching. Unsure if it was safe to touch it, she used her dagger to push it off the altar and, as the glass shattered, the pressure that had been bearing down on her mind ended. Was that it?

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Tsia dodged beneath the man’s - no, creature’s - wild blow and, raising her hand, forced what little essence she had left into an unshapen orb of air. But the bolt of air shot forth with more of a whimper than a roar, staggering the soldier, but not tossing him aside as she’d expected.

Thunder roared in her head with every spell she cast, and black dots swam across her vision as she reached the end of her tank. She swayed on her feet as the soldier recovered his balance, her eyes blinking rapidly as she tried to retain her consciousness.

He bolted forward, his sword angled straight at her heart, and with a final surge of strength, Tsia twisted to the side, tripping as the black dots expanded to blot out her entire frame of vision. More pain lanced through her head as she tripped over her own feet and fell, her temple striking against the slippery cobblestones. She struggled to stand as the cold rain beat down relentlessly on her and the soldier stepped forward. His milky eyes were bereft of the light of victory as he loomed over her, incognizant of his own actions, and she struggled to stand.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

But the blow never came. The soldier froze, blood and froth overspilling his lips, as something long and glittering suddenly protruded through his ribcage. It vanished a moment later as a hand wrapped around the man's arm and shoved him to the side.

“Damn it, that’s a nasty wound.” Tsia’s eyes refused to cooperate as she stared up at her savior, and her brain was too addled to recognize his voice, but she relaxed as a gentle hand touched her head, pushing aside the hair. “Just hold still,” the voice ordered, “and drink this.”

Her vision slowly cleared as she guzzled down the sweet liquid, and she finally recognized her rescuer. “Erin-” Her eyes widened as a shadow loomed behind him, and she choked out a cry of warning, spitting gobs of the healing potion on the street. “Behind you!”

He twisted rapidly, and the blow angled toward his head collided with his shoulder instead. Off-balance, the strike’s momentum drove him into the ground and he screamed in pain as the axe head dug deeper into his joint.

A small dagger was clutched in her hand as Tsia rolled to her feet and, taking advantage of the axe still stuck in Erin’s shoulder, ducked beneath the shaft. The milky-eyed soldier released the danger too late, only trying to dislodge his stuck weapon as she struck upwards. The thin tip of the dagger pierced through the steel mesh hanging around his waist, digging into his groin, but the mind-controlled soldier barely grunted.

Dropping his attempt to reclaim his axe, he backhanded her. The iron gauntlets left a bloody handprint on her face as she was flung to the ground, landing in a crumpled heap on top of Erin. She scrambled back to her feet as he stepped forward, his left leg dragging slightly from the wound to his groin, and searched in vain for another weapon.

He loomed closer, his gauntleted hands raised for a strike and she prepared to dodge - and then, he froze. The milkiness faded from his eyes, replaced in quick succession by confusion, then horror. With a decidedly unmasculine howl, the soldier collapsed to his knees, his hands clasped over his groin as every curse known to man fell from his lips.

All around them, the fighting ceased as the soldiers regained their minds and, utterly confused by the battle they found themselves in, listened to the voice of their commanding officer, Marīltu.

“The city has been compromised by a mind mage working with the lords of Stryn...”

Tsia tuned the commander out as she turned to Erin. He was hunched over, teeth gritted in pain, as he tried to pull the axe free with one hand.

“Let me help.” Kneeling beside him, she shoved his hand away and, grabbing the axe with one hand and his shoulder with the other, pulled. Blood splattered against her cheeks as the axe pulled free, pumping wildly from an injured artery, and she quickly wrapped her cloak around, sustaining pressure until he downed a potion.

“Ugh, never going to get used to those things,” he grumbled, as he cast the bottle aside. “It tastes like sugar on steroids.” He fumbled with his flask, guzzling a long draught of water before continuing. “Thanks.”

“You got injured for me - I’m the one who should be thanking you,” she pointed out.

“Call it even,” he said with a quick grin, which she returned.

“Even.” Her smile dimmed as her eyes turned toward the grand castle watching over the city, Dūr-Rabû, and a touch of worry troubled her heart. She could only assume that the battle’s sudden end meant the mind mage had been dealt with, but it wasn't the only threat to Birnah - the army from Strynn was still on its way, and the city forces had been ravaged by the attack to a far greater extent than they had planned. We were a little too successful, she thought wryly.

Her musings were interrupted as Erin staggered to his feet, wincing slightly as he rotated his injured arm, and offered her a hand. “Think they did it?”

"Never had any doubts," she replied.

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“Ihra!” A short stab of pain rippled along his side with every step he took as charged into the small chapel, but Jasper ignored it. As he stepped over the threshold, the shield surrounding the mind worm crumbled in a flash of light, and the mage turned to face Ihra. He spoke, his words full of a frenetic power that Jasper could feel tugging at the amulet around his neck, but she was unaffected. With a quick half-step, she closed the distance and slit his throat, following it up with a savage blow that drove the mage to the ground.

“Are you alright?” As he limped over to her, Ihra shoved something off the altar and he felt the pressure that had been pounding on his mind evaporate.

“The fool didn’t even try to stop me. Not much of a fighter, I guess,” she responded contemptuously. “But what about you?” She eyed him anxiously, quickly keying on his wince of pain as he hurried over to her, and Jasper counted himself lucky she’d been too busy with her own task to see what he’d just done.

“I’m fine,” he lied, not wanting to tell her he’d purposefully impaled himself. “One of the guards got me in the side, but nothing a healing spell or two can’t fix once my essence returns.”

Her eyes narrowed suspicion, but she looked away, her gaze returning to the crumbled body of the mage, and the withered eye that sat in a pool of blood and glass shards. “We did it, right?” She asked hesitantly.

“You think we interrupted the ritual in time?”

Ihra shrugged. “I guess? The pressure ceased when I smashed his relic, so I assume we stopped whatever he was planning. It feels..." she hesitated before continuing "kind of anticlimactic. I was expecting him to put up a tougher fight.”

Jasper laughed incredulously, his side still tingling with phantom pain where the spear had been impaled not ten minutes earlier. “A tougher battle? Sarganil almost killed you,” he pointed out, “Unless you decided to cavort around like a deer for fun.”

“Well, no, that was unpleasant, but…” Ihra grimaced, biting her lip. “I guess it's silly to complain. Thank Selene he wasn't another Yas̆gah.”

“Pretty sure Kas̆dael deserves the praise on this one, but, come on.” Reaching over, he grabbed her hand and dragged her away from the gruesome altar. “Let’s go find Tsia and Erin.”