Wirrin was not nearly as relaxed as she left Esbolva the second time.

‘They’re following you,’ Mkaer rumbled.

‘I can see that,’ Wirrin thought.

‘I smell fun,’ Naertral hissed.

Wirrin was on a barge headed north up the Boclas river. Since the swamp, the Fiends had been far more talkative than Mkaer had ever been alone. And their recollection of the Gods’ War was sufficient that Wirrin hadn’t bothered going to the library again, despite her desire to see Bilar before she left the city.

Also on the, relatively sparsely populated barge were Ketla Tassavolt and the mage who travelled with her. Given that they were supposed to have arrived at Epatlok three days ago, their presence was conspicuous.

‘Ketla,’ Wirrin called, waving. ‘I didn’t expect to see you here.’

Ketla visibly flinched from the other side of the deck and did a meek little wave. When she didn’t approach, Wirrin took it upon herself to wander over. The mage stepped slightly in front of Ketla, as if trying to block Wirrin from getting too close.

‘Here I thought you were going to Epatlok with Dartol,’ Wirrin said, smiling.

‘Must you?’ Mkaer rumbled.

‘Oh, she must,’ Naertral hissed.

‘Change of plans, I suppose,’ Ketla said, jaw clenched. ‘I’ve been asked to go to Hekaulseg to conduct training with the Church there.’

‘Conduct training?’ Wirrin grinned, talking too loud. ‘I forgot you’re so important to the Church, Ketla.’

A couple of the bargers looked over, but no one was too interested.

‘And you, Wirrin?’ Ketla said. ‘If you don’t mind my asking, of course.’

‘I don’t mind at all,’ Wirrin said. ‘Our destinations are the same, in fact. Though I don’t plan to stay in Hekaulseg. I’m off to spend the winter in the desert.’

‘It still gets cold in the desert, you know,’ Ketla said.

Wirrin nodded. ‘I surely do know that, Ketla,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t get cold compared to Ogesivanen, though.’

Ketla failed to completely conceal a scowl. ‘You mean the Snowy Mountains?’

‘I do mean Ogesivanen, Ketla,’ Wirrin said. ‘Different names from different places.’

Ketla settled on frowning. ‘They’re officially called the Snowy Mountains.’

Wirrin shrugged. ‘It has been a long time since I would have been forbidden by law to call them Ogesivanen, Ketla.’

Ketla kept on frowning.

‘A pleasure as always, Ketla,’ Wirrin said, with a smile. ‘I expect we’ll see a lot of each other on the way to Hekaulseg, so I’m glad we’ve got this misunderstanding out of the way early.’

‘Are you trying to bait them, Wirrin?’ Mkaer rumbled.

‘The Church claims to believe in discipline, Mkaer,’ Wirrin thought. ‘Simply speaking Estanen isn’t enough for her to decide to kill me.’

‘And how do they know where you’re going?’ Naertral burbled.

Wirrin explained about Dartol’s caravan.

The Boclas river was much wider and slower than the Toravan river. The barge was much less crowded. The sun was out and the air was cool. Wirrin watched to the west as the Esbolva basin swiftly transitioned from muddy greenery to pale, tufty grass, and sandy soil.

Wirrin had spent the least of her time in the desert, compared to the rest of Nesalan. Less than a year, all told. Like the Verdant Plains in the West, or even the Blavan Plains near Tellan, it was all too flat for Wirrin’s taste. Not to mention far too hot.

That just increased the appeal, for Wirrin. Why not take the opportunity to explore somewhere she rarely visited? And certainly she’d never been to the centre of the desert before.

‘You could simply stay on the barge all the way to Ahepvalt,’ Mkaer rumbled, interrupting Wirrin’s appreciation of the view.

‘Finding Haerst would make travelling in the desert much easier,’ Naertral burbled. ‘Not to mention, it would be more fun.’

‘You don’t know it would be more fun,’ Wirrin thought. ‘And Ulvaer would be equally as useful finding Haerst as the other way around.’

‘What use could Ulvaer have in finding Haerst?’ Mkaer rumbled.

‘The Fiend of Drought? Finding a sunken island? Think about it,’ Wirrin thought. ‘And besides, I want to know why you dislike it so much.’

‘Ulvaer is unpleasant, as we have told you,’ Mkaer rumbled.

‘What does that mean, though?’ Wirrin thought, smiling to herself as the edges of the desert drifted past. ‘Unpleasant?’

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

‘It is just as much the Scavenger as the Drought,’ Naertral burbled. ‘Its interests are unpalatable.’

‘Are you not the Fiend of Rot, Naertral? What ground do you have to call someone else unpalatable?’

‘Decay is a natural process,’ Naertral shushed. ‘All things decay.’

‘And I’m sure no snake has ever eaten decaying meat.’

‘No mage of mine has ever eaten decaying meat,’ Naertral shushed.

Wirrin had to hold back a laugh. ‘I have eaten decaying meat, in my time,’ Wirrin thought back. ‘So I can assure you that is not the case.’

‘And did you enjoy it, Wirrin? Did you savour it like a fine meal?’ Mkaer rumbled.

‘Oh certainly not,’ Wirrin thought, still smiling. ‘It was quite an unpleasant experience, all told.’

‘As we have said, Ulvaer is unpleasant,’ Mkaer crashed.

‘Had I been a mage of Ulvaer, I think I would have had a much better time,’ Wirrin thought, still holding back a laugh. ‘I would never have had to starve in the mountains, certainly.’

‘Starve? With your skill?’ Mkaer rumbled, much quieter all of a sudden.

‘We learn from our mistakes, Mkaer,’ Wirrin thought. ‘I have learned from my mistakes. And, perhaps, you should learn from yours.’

‘Ignoring Ulvaer was not a mistake,’ Mkaer grumbled. ‘It would have been no help to me when the so-called Gods came to my mountain.’

‘Would it not?’ Naertral shushed. ‘To have such hunters in my swamp would have been a great boon, I suspect.’

Wirrin resisted the urge to wave vaguely as if making a point. ‘See, Mkaer?’

‘I still think we should go to the coast and look for Haerst,’ Naertral burbled. ‘Having the storm mages would have been a much greater boon.’

Wirrin resisted the urge to shrug. ‘Ulvaer is closer, and warmer. If you can force me to go to the coast, do so.’

The rumbling and burbling of Mkaer and Naertral stayed as the Fiends did not speak.

‘If only I had not missed the opportunity in my convalescence,’ Mkaer grumbled, after a minute. ‘There is something interesting about you, Wirrin.’

‘I’m much older than most beginning mages,’ Wirrin thought.

‘You are not so much older,’ Naertral burbled. ‘We always sought adults. There is a hardiness that was required to be a mage that is rarely found in the young.’

‘Was required?’

‘What do you know of the Gods’ War, Wirrin?’ Mkaer rumbled.

‘Quite a lot, I thought,’ Wirrin said. ‘Be more specific.’

‘Had the so-called Gods’ mages been ordinary, Gnaer could have destroyed the Church with little effort,’ Naertral shushed. ‘They found some way, through Iltavaer, no doubt, to keep them going far beyond what had once been absolute limits.’

‘So no headaches? No need to eat so much?’ Wirrin thought. ‘That does sound quite useful.’

‘Despite great efforts, it proved to be insurmountable,’ Mkaer rumbled.

‘I was under the impression that the trouble was that the Gods worked together and you six didn’t,’ Wirrin thought.

‘Is that what the Church of these so-called Gods told you?’ Naertral hissed.

‘The Church just tell it as Good triumphing over Evil,’ Wirrin thought, resisting the urge to shrug. ‘It’s been five hundred years, they can say whatever they want.’

‘Five hundred years?’ Naertral burbled.

‘Your friends in Ettovica told you that we didn’t work together?’ Mkaer rumbled.

‘Oh, of course,’ Naertral shushed. ‘Tevinan would say we didn’t work together, wouldn’t they? We were all too busy being banished for five hundred years to help poor Finaer fight the Church.’

‘In Finaer’s defence, Tevinan did hold out longer than the rest of Nesalan combined,’ Wirrin thought.

‘They would, wouldn’t they?’ Naertral burbled. ‘The only defensible geography in Nesalan, packed full of crazed Lentovt.’

Wirrin couldn’t stop herself from frowning. ‘Lentovt? I’m Sovtanen, you know?’ The landscape passing the barge was calm and basically uniform, certainly not worthy of Wirrin’s severe frown.

‘Valnentovt,’ Naertral hissed. ‘Remember how we met.’

Wirrin took a breath and relaxed her face. ‘Tetalovt, thank you.’

Naertral’s laugh was like a hundred frogs blowing bubbles in mud.

‘I brought you into this world, I can take you back out,’ Wirrin thought.

‘Prove it,’ Naertral shushed.

‘The trouble was that we were unprepared,’ Mkaer thundered into the conversation. ‘We did as best we could, but we were limited.’

‘Surely if every one of all your mages had gone to Tertic, you could have stopped the Church,’ Wirrin wondered.

‘Not only were their mages much more resilient than ours, but they already outnumbered us by the time they reached Tertic,’ Mkaer rumbled and cracked. ‘It would have taken all the armies of Nesalan to defeat them, and even then I am not so sure.’

‘Tevinan held them outside Bitalen for nearly ten years,’ Wirrin thought. ‘Tertic held out for what, two years?’

‘Tertic was surrounded, and held for five years,’ Mkaer rumbled.

‘And in the process, we destroyed almost all of the West beyond the Dividing Range,’ Naertral burbled. ‘Reduced it to rotten swamp.’

‘Tertic is still like that,’ Wirrin thought, fighting back a frown. ‘Barging down the river next to the swamp is enough to get some people seriously ill, depending on the season.’

‘Raerna was still pushing back the swamp four years later when the Church reached me,’ Naertral burbled. ‘Its mages still weren’t halfway done.’

Wirrin smiled, perhaps a bit more pointedly than was warranted by the first signs of cacti off in the distance. ‘When I reached that rocky hill, Mkaer told me that you wouldn’t let the others into your wetland.’

‘It’s more complicated than that,’ Naertral burbled. ‘My swamp was full of dangers that only my mages could manage. All kinds of traps and poisons and psychedelics. We did not want to risk our allies.’

‘Psychedelics?’ Wirrin thought.

‘I was sometimes called the Fiend of Illusions,’ Naertral shushed. ‘All sorts of plants and frogs can have psychedelic effects. Some of my mages could replicate that, but more deliberately.’

Wirrin managed not to nod along. ‘Alright, so the six of you simply weren’t up to the challenge,’ she thought. ‘Has anything changed?’

‘We have but a single mage between us,’ Mkaer rumbled. ‘We once had more.’

‘I think that was a joke, Mountain,’ Naertral burbled. ‘My congratulations.’

‘It was difficult,’ Mkaer rumbled.

‘So we need to work out how the Gods’ mages could just keep on going?’ Wirrin thought. She resisted the urge to glance across the deck to where Ketla was sitting with her mage.

‘Are they still like that?’ Naertral burbled.

‘I have no idea,’ Wirrin thought. ‘I’ve never seen a mage do magic for an extended period of time. The closest would be perhaps half an hour of solid fighting during the riots.’

‘Riots?’ Naertral shushed.

Wirrin explained the 500 years riots to the two Fiends. ‘And during the four-hundred-year riots, they tore down the big Church prison in the Sovet valley. That was when the ban on Estanen finally got completely lifted.’

‘What has actually happened in the last five hundred years?’ Mkaer rumbled. ‘No wars? No uprisings?’

Wirrin took a deep breath and resisted the urge to shrug. ‘They’re all called riots, aren’t they?’ she thought. ‘Supposedly there were uprisings all through the first century in Ettovica, Bitalen, Esbolva, and Louyava. None of them worked, there were still too many mages. Since then it’s riots, mostly in Ettovica.’

‘Not Toravan?’ Naertral shushed.

‘Toravan was wiped out during the war,’ Mkaer rumbled. ‘Completely destroyed.’

‘Supposedly there are clans in the desert that are separate from the Church,’ Wirrin thought. ‘I never found any, but I haven’t spent as much time in the desert as the mountains.’

‘I think you’re right, Wirrin,’ Naertral burbled. ‘We should find Ulvaer first.’

Wirrin smiled pre-emptively. ‘Oh, what changed your mind?’

‘If there really are people in the desert who don’t like the Church, it means our whole army won’t just be Tetalovt.’

Wirrin clapped a hand over her mouth and hoped her burst of laughter looked like a sneeze.