Arron stared at her for a moment as he contemplated her suggestion. “So you wish to sneak by the Academy guard, break into your own lab and not be noticed?”

Corana entered the bar where she agreed to meet Arron after her visit to the tower, hoping he had waited for her. She was two days late, thanks to being trapped by Xabriar, but she counted on the young man showing anyway. Even after cleansing herself magically four times, she still imagined the other patrons of the inn-slash-tavern shied away from her. Just thinking of it made her stomach churn, so she focused on a spot on the table and waited as the rain drummed a steady beat on the tiled roof.

Just as she was about to walk out and try to find refuge elsewhere, a man in city guard armor and tabard stepped in and shook the rain from his cloak. As he turned to hang it on a peg provided near the door she recognized Arron’s face, shorn dark hair and hints of beard stubble. He looked just as worried as the last time she’d met him, maybe more so. He saw her and immediately strode to the table.

“I did not expect to see you alive again.” He said as he sat on a stool across the table from Corana. He wrinkled his nose as he sat.

“Alive, yes. But I would not recommend the sewer for travel in the city.”

Arron nodded, “Did you learn whether Xabriar is in league with a demon lord?

“If only. If it was a demon lord then the council could deal with it. Demonic magic places constraints on a sorcerer, they must meet the conditions of the contract. What Xabriar has tied into his tower is not demonic, it is elemental. It’s like half the magic of the world has been compressed into the one tower. It should not be possible, but he has done it. But whatever he has done can be unravelled, some part of that power failed last night. It distracted him for my escape.”

“Have you learned anything that you can take to the council?” The worry etched across Arron’s eyes for his friend made her wince at her own failure at spying and in allowing Xabriar to go unchecked for so long. “I’m sorry, but no. Honestly, he has too much power in the council lately to confront him there anyway.”

“Then what am I to do?” Arron sighed. “Ronal thinks me mad for getting involved with the machination of sorcerers. And truly I would having nothing of it, if not for Rall. And I have not heard word from him since he left.”

Corana took a deep gulp of her mug of wine. “If Xabriar has shown me anything it’s that Rall is strong, stronger than you can imagine. Very few men would endure what Rall has for a week, let alone months, without going mad.”

“As for what we should do, I am unsure. What Xabriar has done in that tower is more then dangerous. He flirts with forces that can not be easily controlled by mortals, and a misstep would mean more than Xabriar’s death. Worse yet, such power in the hands of a mortal sorcerer will attract the attention of ancient things best left undisturbed.”

Arron shook his head wishing he could be quit of all this magic business, and answered, “Of course such things wouldn’t just snatch him away never to be seen again and leave the rest of us alone...” He didn’t really hold out any hope.

“No. It’s best not to even imagine what might happen then. We need to stop him now. And the first step might be to find out what caused his power to unravel last night.”

“Where do we look? I don’t know how to deal with all this magic stuff.”

“I think I might be able to track the source of the disruption, if I can get to my tools in my tower. But the problem is, no one can know I’m alive, or Xabriar will start sending his minions after me. Weakened as I am, I wouldn’t stand much chance.”

Arron stared at her for a moment as he contemplated her suggestion. “So you wish to sneak by the Academy guard, break into your own lab and not be noticed?”

Corana nodded with a downcast look, “It’s not going to be easy, I should know. I helped design the defenses against intruders. I know a few ways in, but most of them require both of my arms.” She waved the still-raw looking stump in his direction as a reminder.

“What of the city guards? They patrol the grounds regularly. Even with the magic out of the way it will not stop the watchful eye of a gaurd.”

“That’s where I’ll need your help. You’re a guard, perhaps no one will think twice about a novice sneaking somewhere with a guard...” Corana smiled apologetically.

Arron slugged back a large gulp of the strong wine, more than he intended. “You want me to pretend to be sneaking off with you for a bit of ummm, cuddling?”

“More or less, yes.” She responded, staring hard at the oak table a flush of embarrassment coloring her cheeks.

“No one will question it, I’m certain. You are quite handsome.” she continued. The absurdity of what she was proposing was not lost on her; it was in fact what could make the whole plan work.

Catching Arron’s eyes with a determined look she asserted, “It’s the obvious answer, now that I think about it. I can enter my own workspace easily enough, and the Academy’s wards will allow me. I know the hidden passageways fairly well, and anyone paying attention will just see a novice girl sneaking off with her beau looking for a private hiding place. It happens a lot.”

“That’s... insane, you know. It seems likely to work, I’m not questioning that. But, I never imagined I’d be pretend lover to a master sorceress pretending to be a novice. The things I do for Rall...” Arron shook his head at the unlikeliness of the situation.

---

Cale swaggered into the Lussax gates with a smirk. His papers were all in perfect order and the guard waved him past with only the barest glance. This did not surprise Cale, since he did rather resemble a travelling tax collector the guard happened to know personally. Cale spent two hours that morning perfecting the disguise after leaving said tax collector in a ditch some two days’ travel behind.

He swept through the streets as if he owned the entire city, and people made way. No one paid too close attention for fear he might demand a tax of them, so when he ducked behind a tavern to change no one took notice, and when he stepped back out looking more like the kind of man who might be paid to toss drunks out of bars even fewer looked his way.

He entered the tavernand sat down. It was a seedy-looking place with sawdust-covered floors to soak up and hide whichever liquid might be spilled on a given night be it ale, wine or blood. He deliberately chose a table next to a dice game, sitting long enough to hear the local rules of the game while he drank the watery bitter draught the barman offered those with little coin.

“Are you men playing Eights and Tens? Or is it Crown’s Hand? Seems like there’s a new game made up for dicing every day.” he nodded to the man holding the dice cup.

“Devil’s Run. You know the game?” The man was a rough, greedy sort by the look of him, exactly the kind of man Cale enjoyed taking for large amounts of coin.

Dangling a purse in front of the grubby man. The distinctive clink of coin brought raised eyebrows and a quiet murmur around the table “Yeah, I think so. Can I buy in?”

“Sure.” the man grinned, proudly displaying his blackened, decayed teeth. “Always room for a man with coin.” Cale nodded, taking the dice cup the man offered him.

“So, on the first roll I just have to not roll all sixes, right?” The man with the black teeth and terrible breath shook his head.

“All sixes, all ones or a straight on the first roll loses. Second roll the straight wins, third the sixes, fourth the ones. Roll any of them on the wrong turn and you lose. Anything else rolls again. You’re first, new guy.” Cale put a few coppers on the table with the rest and shook the dice cup, then rolled all ones.

“Bad luck there friend, you just lost. Wanna try again?”

Cale managed to lose four more rounds before switching the dice. For one with his skills, palming dice was as simple as breathing. He switched them before and after his turn each round, until he broke even. He made sure to drink often enough that his new friends would see and assume him drunk, and acted accordingly with slurred speech and clumsy movements. This made palming the dice even easier.

“Okay, I’m tired of loshing all my money, it’sh high time my luck shangesh!” He tossed his bag of coin, a mix of gold, copper and silver, on the table. “You guysh in?” He blinked and nodded as if he was having difficulty staying awake. The others at the table looked around, and set their own stashes on the table. Cale couldn’t help noticing their bets did not in any way match up to his own, they meant to cheat him, just as he was cheating them.

“Right then.” He tossed the dice and came up four sixes and a two. “ ‘m not out yet...” He tossed again, coming up most of a straight but not quite. “Tha’sh a closhe one...” He tossed again, and all sixes came up, just as he knew they would. They were his dice after all. He grinned and clumsily reached across the table for the coin.

‘You cheating bastard, these dice are loaded!” Another man reached for the dice, but Cale knocked them off the table “accidentally” in collecting the coins. His own dice went into the coin bag, the originals fell on the floor.

“Huh?” Cale looked at his accuser with a dopey expression.

“Look, he palmed them, they’ll always roll all sixes!” He rolled them and came up with two sixes, a four, a one and a three.

“Well, friend, looks like you win. Fair’s fair and all.” the black-toothed man offered with a dark grin. “Guess you’d better get to your room before you pass out somewhere, huh friend?”

Cale nodded as the others glanced at each other with slight nods, recognizing the plan. It was a smart one, instead of starting a fight in the bar they were going to wait and rob him in the hallway, or in his room later. He stood up, money in hand, and tied it to his belt sloppily before stumbling toward the door. The darkness outside would be a much more suitable place than the hallways or his room. No need to make a mess inside.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw them leaving as well, through the back door. He staggered outside into the darkness, rubbing a button on his coat that magically restored his darkvision immediately after the change in light. It cost him a tidy sum years ago, but had proven its worth time and time again since. As he rounded the corner of the bar, he clearly saw the shadows of the four men surrounding him. He didn’t react until the one in front spoke, the one with the black teeth.

“Right then, I think you’ll be giving us that bag of coin there, or else we’ll have to beat you senseless. Not a peep now, or you’ll be dead before the guards can bat an eye.”

“Is that so?” The man looked momentarily startled, but the moment Cale had spoken the man to the right threw a knife. Cale caught it and returned it with interest, noting with a smile the sound as it sank into the attacker’s throat, silencing him permanently.

“Jonno, did you get him?” Cale threw a knife of his own and silenced the man behind him the same way. The other two fell on him, and one struck a glancing blow to his ribs with a truncheon, but Cale ignored the pain and punched him. A needle hidden inside the painted soft wax of a false signet ring pushed through the wax to just break the skin of the man’s face, and he died seconds later. The last man, the one with the black teeth, tried to push a short sword into his ribs, but Cale shoved it aside with his forearm, the edge scraping across a sheathed dagger he kept hidden there.

“You picked the wrong hustler to roll tonight, friend.” So saying he punched the man in the throat, and felt his windpipe crunch. The man gagged and fell to the ground, choking out his last few moments in the darkness.

Collecting his throwing knife from the corpse’s throat Cale stared into the dead man’s eyes “Pity you had to be sore losers. Now I’m going to have to find a different place to stay.”

---

Rall awoke to a thousand pounding aches that seemed to encompass his whole body. Everything from his toes up to his pinkie fingers throbbed. He had never felt this bad before, even after one of his master’s beatings. Warily he opened his eyes only to immediately shut them with a groan. The morning sun seemed determined to burn his eyes to ash.

“Rall, are you awake?” Greta shouted as she popped her head into the lean-to. The shelter appeared to have grown over the night since he first built it.

Moaning slightly Rall tucked his head under his arm “ ‘few more hours please...”

“Oh no you don’t!” Greta remarked as she pulled herself in beside Rall to give him a slight shake, “You’ve been sleeping for three days!” she said with a quivering voice. “I though you might die!”

Pulling himself into a sitting position took extraordinary effort, and his body was quick protest with more dull aches. “Three days? What happened?” His head rang with the sounds of the forest and the booming sound of his own voice, but he needed to know what was going on.

“You went all fiery and lit up the whole sky! I think you might have been fighting something but it was really hard to see through the tree branches, and most of what I could see was blinding. I didn’t know you were a sorcerer! Anyway, you just kind of soaked up all the light like a sponge after a while, and fell asleep. Then somehow I could get to you really easy, like the forest let me through. You were so still, I thought you were dead at first, but when I touched you you were burning with fever. It only just broke last night.” He dared to peek again and found most of the light blocked by the lean-to, and Greta blocking the rest at the opening. She looked very concerned, and slightly startled when he looked at her.

“I was? I only remember fighting something I couldn’t see, then it exploded and then I woke up just now. Oh! The sword! Did it blow up too?” Greta shook her head and pointed at his chest. He looked down and found himself hugging it tightly.

“You wouldn’t let it go, even when you were as still as the dead. I stopped trying when you cried out like it hurt.” Rall’s aches had started to fade a little, and he managed to sit up enough to really look at it. It looked better than before, like lighting it on fire somehow fixed it some instead of melting it. He drew the blade partway free and found all sign of cracks gone, and parts of it had even developed a little bit of shine. This sword was more than it seemed for sure!

Greta looked away nervously, “So you are a sorcerer then. The fire was truly amazing, and scary too. For a moment I thought you were going to burst like a star fallen to the ground, and burn up the whole forest!” She forced herself to look into Rall’s eyes as she asked, “Why didn’t you send us home before, or stop the slavers?”

“I’m sorry, Greta, I’m no sorcerer. I don’t know what happened back there, but I’ve never done anything like that in my life! I was an apprentice but now I’m not even that, since I ran away from my master. But he was a really evil man, Greta. I think he was planning to kill me eventually. He never taught me any magic, and beat me a lot. I’m kind of useless as far as magic goes.” He hung his head a little bit, ashamed he couldn’t solve their problems so easily.

Nodding her head, she offered a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Don’t be upset. You did wonderful the other night, even if it was really scary.”

Looking towards a charred circle in the distance Greta continued, “ I thought the trees were going to kill us both, but that white fire you threw burned away everything it touched! “ Without taking a breath Greta kept going, “Do you think that it was the forest god? It’s been really easy to find food and shelter here since the fight.”

Rall shook his head, thinking. “I.. I don’t know, whatever it was I don’t think it was evil. There was something else though, something that didn’t feel right.” He shook his head to collect his thoughts, “It didn’t belong and it was in that circle. I think it was hurting the forest and the forest was mad, so it thought we did it.”

Rall chuckled self-consciously, “I really don’t understand all this, it’s all just a feeling, but I think we’re welcome here now that it’s gone.”

Greta sighed in relief, but her demeanor quickly changed as she seemed to gather her courage. “There is something else Rana, when you slept, you changed somehow. I think it might have been that magic, but you look a little... well, you look even more like a girl. Your eyes, they have little sparks in them like magic fire. And you have some scaly patches on your arms, like a fish.”

“I look like a fish?” Rall yelled, his head protesting vigorously at the effort. He pushed past Greta to get out of the shelter in a stumbling panic towards the running stream. The reflection in the stream did not show the the horrible images of scales and gills his mind had constructed, but it was hard to see clearly in the moving water. He looked more closely at his arms and found them covered with fine pinkish scales, soft and smooth to the touch.

“Rana, don’t worry about that, you’re alive and that’s what matters! Come away from there before you fall in, you’re still not well yet!” Rall could feel it, the weariness drawing him toward the ground, but he felt his strength returning almost by the second.

“I’ll be alright, Greta, I really am feeling much better. Maybe a little drink will help too.” He went to his knees, remembering at the last moment to be careful with Greta’s dress he was still wearing so as not to ruin it any worse, and cupped his hands in the water to drink. The water was cool and refreshing, and he felt even better after drinking. It felt like maybe things would work out somehow. Then something else fell over him, like a shadow, except there was nothing blocking the sunlight. Like something was looking at him. He heard Greta squeak behind him.

“What was that? It felt like some ghost touched me!” Greta said worriedly. Rall looked up at the sky again, the sunlight still aching in his eyes, and saw nothing.

“I think we need to get moving. I know that feeling, I felt it almost all the time in my master’s tower. He was looking at us. He knows where we are.” He felt like crawling into the deepest hole he could find but he knew it wouldn’t help. “I’m sorry, Greta, I never meant to cause you or your family trouble with my master. I hoped he wouldn’t bother looking for me.” Greta shook her head.

“It’s not your fault, you couldn’t have known. But you’re right, we can’t stay here.” She began packing up things, including a hand-woven basket full to the brim with berries, roots and leaves.

“The foraging here is plentiful, so I thought we should take as much food with us as we can. I’ve had days to gather this for us, it should last at least a few days of travel.” Rall looked at her in wonder.

“You’re an amazing person, Greta. Come on, let’s get going.”

---

Xabiar madly paced about the small table on which rested the blackened wooden bowl, the murky water inside still swirling ominously. He paused to think over the images the bowl produced. Two girls in rags wandering the forest managed to break his most powerful wards and unravel his ritual? Such madness, no one should have that kind of power but he, in his own tower!

Perhaps one of the girls was aided by that pesky nature god? But even so, how could it be possible? The nature god hardly presented a threat to his wards month ago when he first lay them. The god should hardly have the power to call a storm let alone aid in the destruction of his finest magics... and why two girls?

He tossed the bowl against the wall in disgust. No matter, he would have to rebuild the ritual, and dispose of the girls. If they could break one, they might break more and that was unacceptable. Cale had yet to send word of his work, but Xabriar already knew Albera was dead. He would have to contact the assassin directly and that meant more expense, but no price could be spared to rid himself of someone who had a knack for unravelling the rituals that would grant him true power.

---

Arron tried not to think about the fact that he was holding a high sorceress like a randy novice looking for some excitement. He tried not to think of having to kiss and caress her the moment someone looked to closely their direction. But her warmth against his side kept bringing up images unbidden.

They wandered across the courtyard of the Academy, stopping to sniff flowers here or look at a pond there, like lovers on a romantic stroll, and so far no one had raised any alarm. A few guards looked their way but only offered Arron a thumbs-up gesture and a knowing grin. When they reached an alcove in the wall of the building proper, Corana spoke up.

“Press me against the wall and kiss me, but feel along the wall. You’ll find a decorative swirl. Press in the third layer of the swirl, right at the top.” Arron swallowed nervously and pressed her softly to the wall. He couldn’t help but feel the soft curves of her body through the novice robes.

His fumbling fingers found the notch in the wall, almost imperceptible as it was, but not before his lips found hers. She tasted sweet, a hint of berries staining her lips. For a brief moment he was reminded of Rall, lips stained with those same berries, but the figure pressing against him now was definitely not Rall. Her hands trailed up and down his back, and he felt his breath leave him just as the wall swung inward, dropping them unceremoniously in a dark dusty corridor before closing mere moments later.

“Not the most elegant entrance, but it will do.” Corona chuckled as she dusted herself off. “This way now,” she remarked as she led Arron though the darkness. “This part of the academy isn’t used much, but still keep your eyes and ears open.” She held out her right hand and a flicker of light grew into a small light, about as bright as a torch, directly above her hand. She started forward at a brisk walk.

Arron kept pace behind Corana through the darkened hallways. Every flicker of shadow had Arron on edge, and his watchfulness turned out to be a good thing. Another secret door opened from a brighter hall, and what looked like a pair of students crept in. They immediately saw Arron and Corana, but since he had again pushed her against a wall and kissed her, they did nothing more than giggle and continue on their way. He kept up the charade for long seconds in case they returned, and was surprised to find her returning said kiss with something a bit more real than necessary. She was really getting into the act!

By the time Arron was certain the students weren’t coming back, both he and Corana were rather breathless. She pushed gently at his chest, in fact he wasn’t entirely certain if she was pushing him away or just running her hand over him, but he backed away regardless.

“We need to keep going, right?” Corana nodded in reply, collecting herself and again taking the lead. They were nearly caught twice more, with similar results, before they finally reached a place where Corana stopped to place her hand against the wall.

“This is it,” she whispered, “my study should be just the other side of this wall. There’s a secret door right here, and my wards will allow us entry. Be ready.” She pressed something he couldn’t see clearly, and the wall swung silently open.

“This way” she said softly as they both passed through the doorway. The tower seemed to respond to Corana’s return as lamps and torches ignited themselves with an audible pop in a cascade of lights. She led the way up a short flight of spiralling stairs, then opened a door to a workroom filled with implements and items of magic Arron couldn’t really comprehend. More importantly, three men were also in the room, picking through things.

“Hey, you there! What are you doing in here? This room is off limits!” Arron was momentarily confused by the challenge from the man in heavy-looking robes, but Corana quickly cleared things up.

“Off limits to you! How did you pass my wards?” Arron put a hand to his sword, and two of the other men followed suit. The third seemed far more interested in Corana.

“By the gods you’re alive” the man remarked in shock, raising his hands to show he was no threat. “We though you dead Corana, what happened?”

“Master Woric.” Corana smiled, “I did not expect the council Praetor to personally search for me.”

The man smiled back in a way Arron could only find chilling. “A missing headmistress of the Academy? I wouldn’t dare leave such an important investigation in anyone’s hands but my own.”

“Your dedication to your duty is impressive Master Woric, but I am quite fine as you can see. So if you would, could you please take your two bodyguards and vacate my tower. I have much work to do tonight.”

Arron watched the unfolding display in growing discomfort. He was neck deep in the underbelly of Gaerbron politics, and it was the last place he wanted to be. Simple town guards could easily be buried by such politics, without anyone batting an eye.

“I’m sorry my lady, but I must insist that you come with me to council and give testimony as to your disappearance. A great many things have changed in your absence.”

“I’m certain they have. I’m sure Xabriar is being much more open about his motives then before!” So saying, Corana flicked her wand out of her sleeve, just like she’d done to Arron and Ronal in the Cheerful Spirits. Woric seemed to almost shrug it off, but his movements slowed noticeably. He threw something bright back at her, and she waved it off with the wand. It exploded against the wall with an eerie silence, leaving a scorched spot on the white stone.

Hissing, Woric raised his arm towards Corana “You are truly a fool, Xabriar is the future! You should have accepted him and his power!”

That was as much as Arron saw, before the other two men were on him. He barely had time to draw and parry one strike before another rained down. He twisted to the side and the attacker’s blade bit into the wood of a workbench. Again the first’s sword struck and Arron barely turned it aside, leaving the man wide open. He charged in missing a stray ball of fire by the thinnest of margins, putting a shoulder solidly into the man’s stomach, then jumped back just in time to see the other man’s sword flash past, biting into the arm of the man he’d just knocked breathless.

“Burn you, Grigori, you got me! The git’s fast, kill him quick!”

Arron ignored the words, striking at the one called Grigori, but his own sword was batted aside, and the larger man’s sword slashed across his hardened leather guard armor. The armor held, keeping him from being laid open across the ribs, but he still took a nasty gash under his left side. He grunted and kept swinging, but the wounded man took him by surprise. He felt the tip of a heavy sword pierce his armor and glance off his ribs. Grigori grinned as it came out the front of Arron’s armor, cutting another gash along his left side, leaving him looking for all the world like he was skewered.

Arron swung again, focusing on that grinning face, and was rewarded with a sudden look of horror as his own sword dug between Grigori’s ribs and found vital organs. He turned, the other man’s sword still lodged in his armor and dragging agonizingly against his ribs. Flecks of red crossed his darkening vision, but he fought for awareness and for his efforts found the other man staring at him like he was seeing a ghost. Arron’s sword struck again, across the man’s throat, and the man dropped like a puppet with cut strings. Turning to see how Corana was doing, he saw Woric standing over her as she knelt, her one good arm held up in front of her like a shield.

The world began to spin around violently as he summoned the last dregs of strength he could will up from his core and threw his sword, weakly, the three paces distance at Woric. He never saw whether it connected, as the darkness dragged him down.