by Kim Wedlock
But Rathen couldn't afford to spare more than that initial glance, even as Anthis stared in wonder. He flung aside the captured wreckage while cries of 'mad mage' and 'rebellion' began to rise above the rest, and a moment later they were all that could be distinguished above the clatter of steel. Rathen shook his head and gritted his teeth, changing his tactics in a brief reprieve in the rain of missiles. "I can't hold it all back," he shouted to Garon over the din even as he began forming another spell, and the inquisitor growled in matching frustration as he held off another raging attacker.
"We have to run," he shouted back. "If we leave, they'll scatter; our presence is only provoking them and they're not listening to me!"
"Of course they're not," Rathen replied spitefully, "magic is involved!" He released his spell and an unseen barrier assembled over the area, finishing not a moment too soon as another hail of books, furniture and pieces of ceiling slipped from one of the highest rooms.
He didn't wait to see how much it would hold. He snatched Aria and lifted her into his arms, fleeing the ceaseless destruction with Anthis close behind them while Garon brought up the rear. The jeers continued to chase them, but their tone began to shift; there were encouragements to follow and accusations of involvement, and as they looked back they found that every blade that had sought to cut them to pieces had now turned onto their unexpected ally.
Garon cursed and immediately dashed back, certain of what would happen if they left her there under such condemnation, and snatched the woman by her elbow with a command to follow. She was given no chance to agree nor object as he dragged her along, only to growl in anger, then again in defeat. As a number of the attackers began to pursue, crying claims of a mage sympathiser, a distraction while mages slipped in to destroy the city, to sow seeds of chaos, she knew she had no choice.
"They're all insane," she growled once more, and remained alongside them as Garon released his grip to hurry to the lead of the group.
He directed them along a twisting route through the darkening ruins, their sudden and senseless turns hopefully losing their pursuers while avoiding any more, and as they neared the district's broken gate they found that neither guard was present on the other side. Despite their easy job, they'd likely made their way towards the towers. But when they crossed the edge of the city, the inquisitor didn't lead them into the forest like they'd expected him to - as, indeed, would their pursuers. Instead he took a sharp right along the edge of the wall, followed its length for a full running minute before reaching a deep gully, which he jumped into and followed further away from the forest. They ran for an age but took little distance from the city, and its walls were still within sight over the edge of a gorge when he slipped down into a shallow valley and finally drew them to a stop.
Aria grunted as Rathen dropped her to the ground, panting for breath as Anthis similarly doubled over beside him, but she didn't spare a moment to make sure either were all right. She scrambled back up the grassy slope to look out through the evening shadow and back towards the city. She couldn't see anyone approaching, but her sight was too blurred by tears to have noticed even if they were only ten paces away, and though she tried to stifle the little hiccuping squeaks that came with them, they burst out of her relentlessly. She shook with fear - indeed she was terrified - but she tightened her small hands to try to stop that, at least, if only for her dignity in the adults' company. But she just couldn't. She didn't understand what had just happened - the tower had fallen, somehow, and they'd nearly been crushed by it, but then they'd gotten outside and poor Fog had been killed and the other horses had fled, and then people had arrived and her father had saved them from being killed, but then they'd tried to attack them instead, like they weren't even grateful.
She squeezed her eyes shut tight as another whimper rattled from her throat, and she gritted her teeth against it. She just didn't understand.
She jumped at the gentle pressure of a hand on her shoulder, but as she spun around she found the eyes that looked back at her were protective, the pretty lips that asked if she was all right bowed downwards in sympathy, and her face, framed by blood red hair even in the weak light, was creased in sincerity.
For a moment, surprise pushed Aria's fear aside. "It's you!"
Garon turned to Rathen and Anthis as the two fought for their breath. He was barely winded, though Rathen supposed an inquisitor could well be more used to chases than either of them were, if from the other end, and he looked at them both with grave, grey eyes.
"We have a problem," he said in no uncertain tone, his voice low enough that only the two would hear, and Rathen forced himself to stand and regain his pride, even if his chest burned.
"You can say that again," Anthis wheezed from beside him, still doubled over.
"But we got what we needed, didn't we?"
"Mm..."
Rathen blinked at him as the historian bobbed his head uncertainly from side to side, then his widened incredulously, his fingers curled in frustration, and he seemed barely able to restrain himself from strangling him. "Mm?!"
"Yes! Yes we got what we were looking for, but it wasn't enough to balance out all of this chaos!"
"What did we get?"
Garon's eyes turned to him now, and Anthis shrank under their weight, and further still beneath the threat in Rathen's. But rather than answer, with a final, steadying puff, he crouched down beside the bags and began rifling through one of them.
Rathen frowned as he recognised both his own and Aria's among them.
"I took everything that remained from the dead horse while you were deflecting the falling tower and Garon was shouting into deaf ears," he explained without glancing up, as though he felt the need to defend himself. Garon glared at the last remark.
Anthis lifted a book out from his bag and flicked through to the page he'd folded over. "It does mention Beyviin Dreyal," he said as he rose slowly back to his feet, as though the others had been heard the name before that day, "and a great magical advancement..."
The two watched him expectantly. "...But?"
"...But," he continued carefully, "it seems that the 'advancement' referred to here was the ability to create a force of air out of nothing - sort of like what you did to the debris, I suppose, but as simple as it seems to be now, it was evidently a big deal at the time - actually," he amended quickly, avoiding meeting either gaze by burying his nose safely in the book instead, "what it says specifically is that this was the 'greatest development since the ability to silence the magic of humans,' and...it seems that while Beyviin was the head of the project, he was only loosely involved. It was his protégé who was actually responsible for the artefact, which Beyviin also headed, and that's why I made this connection I suppose."
"So what does that mean?" Rathen asked with great restraint. "That, after all that, we still have nothing?"
"Yes and no."
"Stop it!"
"'Yes' in terms of not having what we expected," he said quickly, now truly hiding behind the safety of the old tome, "and 'no' in terms of being given a new lead. I know the name of his protégé, Radekh Sov, it's been stuck in my head since I first read it a few years ago, but I've only come across it twice."
"And why did it stick in your mind?" Garon asked hopefully as Rathen once again appeared ready to throttle him. "What do you know?"
"Oh, uh, because 'Radekh Sov' sounds kind of like 'ahrizov', which is elven for 'yellow'," he explained blandly. "But anyway, as few as his mentions are, I remember him being tied very closely to Bowden, down south."
"Bowden," Rathen reminded him in a low, dangerous voice, "is a bustling city."
"Yes," Anthis nodded, "but because of that, the Order has made sure that some areas have been preserved."
"And after all of this, you think we're going to be able to just walk in?"
Anthis shrugged. "It'll take about three weeks to get there on foot in this season, we'll just lie low for a while on the way over and we'll be fine, I'm sure."
&
nbsp; Garon shook his head. "It's not that simple, Anthis. Those people back there think we caused all that destruction, and they saw Rathen use his magic--"
"I had no choice," the mage declared, and Garon raised his gloved hand to calm him.
"I understand that, but nevertheless, you've revealed yourself as an unmarked mage and that will have not only reinforced the idea of a mage rebellion, but you'll have been seen as part of it. And the rest of us are in no better a position, either. Aside from your distinct appearance, Rathen, I am clearly an inquisitor, and there is a child with us." He shook his head and folded his arms across his broad chest, his black uniform dusty with the evidence of their involvement in Mokhan's ruin. "Our description will be easy to pass on and easy to remember, and we can argue that it's a mistake all we like, but with the present situation as it is and the threat of rebellious mages on everyone's mind, no one is going to listen. Even the Crown's hands would be tied."
"They view things in black and white," Rathen agreed distastefully, looking past the officer towards Aria where she was being comforted by the woman, "and such a severe incident involving a banished mage can only point one way, especially now."
Garon followed his gaze. "And now Petra is involved as well."
Anthis frowned. "You know her? Who is she?"
"She...bumped into us when we were looking for you," Rathen replied, then sighed regretfully. "You're right. But we should still lie low and avoid settlements, lessen the sight of ourselves for the time being. We've lost our map, our bed rolls, our horses and most of our food. I can conjure some of what we need, but we'll have to live off of the land for a while - trap animals, gather plants and the like. But we can manage that..."
"I have experience sleeping in the rough," Anthis frowned dubiously, "but I've always brought supplies with me..."
Garon, shamefully, agreed, and Rathen's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Well, then I suppose I'll have to manage for all of us. But - Anthis, you might be a renowned historian, but such isn't a profession to encourage remembering a face. If we pass near a settlement, you can go and gather what we can't get by without."
The sound of approaching footsteps snatched their attention, and Petra appeared beside them. Even in the low light her young face was seen to be grave, her eyes severe, and she'd barely come to a stop before she hissed. "What the hell happened back there?!" She turned her steely gaze upon each of them in turn, her voice as low as theirs had been. "What were you doing?!"
"It's classified," Garon replied immediately on impulse, but his response only earned him a fiery glare.
"Classified be damned!" She growled. "I was chased out of there just as you were, so I'm lumped in with you now whether you like it or not. I demand to know what was going on!"
"No one asked you to get involved," Garon reminded her calmly. "And just what were you doing?"
She straightened defiantly. "Returning the favour. And you?"
"We were looking in the ruins," Anthis replied, and as Rathen glanced at him, noticing he'd been a touch quick to offer the information, he found his eyes lit by more fascination than they should have been.
"With a mage, an inquisitor and a child?" She asked doubtfully, folding her arms and either not noticing or just ignoring Anthis's interest. "What was it? A family day out?"
"We're trying to stop the magic."
The small voice immediately caught their attention. All eyes looked past her to fall upon Aria as she stepped almost defiantly towards them, her eyes still red though she'd stopped crying, and her small hands tightened into fists at her sides.
"Sorry?" Petra's tone was suddenly far gentler, though her eyes were no less harsh.
"Aria," Rathen said softly, shaking his head, "hush."
Her small shoulders straightened boldly, and she stared back at her father with only the slightest trace of apology before looking decisively back to Petra. "The magic in the old elven places, it's not supposed to be there, and it's making trouble." She ignored her father's defeated sigh, and the similar pleas of the others. "It's killed people and it's upsetting spirits, and it has to be stopped before it gets worse. It's gotten worse everywhere else already and we can't let it happen here, too. Anthis thinks we can find an arty-fact that can help, and that's why we were there when the tower fell down, we were looking for it."
Rathen stepped forwards and knelt down beside her, wrapping his arms around her to soothe the shakes from her voice, and he couldn't help a small smile twitch across his lips as he suddenly understood why she had been looking through the books of elegant, flourishing writing with such dedication.
"Why did the tower fall down?" Petra asked, looking back to the others.
"Because we interfered."
"It wasn't magic," Rathen added, remaining beside Aria, "it wasn't curses, it was just old and unmaintained. Our presence upset a precarious balance and it collapsed. It would have happened if anyone else had gone in there instead of us."
Petra nodded slowly, her arms folded across her chest, one still concealed beneath a sleeve. "And did you find it?"
"We found what we needed," Anthis replied, and Rathen frowned at how easily she'd been convinced away from blaming magic.
Her eyes snapped onto the historian. "Don't you dare be vague. Did you find it?"
"No, but we found information we need to lead us towards it."
She nodded slowly again, her long, red hair tousled by the wind, and she regarded them each for a long moment. Anthis stared back in cautious interest, Garon looked away to the side with frustration and wounded pride at having been undermined by a child, and Rathen held the little girl close, asking her a quiet question to which she nodded. Petra narrowed her eyes curiously, but didn't give voice to her thoughts. "I have heard of something like this," she said instead, "something unnatural, that mages have supposedly done. Some say it's part of an attack by Skilan, others say our own mages are doing it." She cocked her head. "What's actually happening?"
"Why do you doubt the rumours?" Anthis asked with a note of intrigue, heedless to the thought that such a response could lend the rumours credence. "Why aren't you more concerned about the magic?"
She frowned at him slightly. "Why would I be?"
"Because it's magic," he reminded her, frowning back.
"My little sister is a mage. Magic doesn't frighten me like it does other people. I know very well that mages have control over their power."
Rathen frowned to himself as he recalled the unwanted information Kienza had left him with, but he decided it best not to alarm one of the few who didn't immediately jump to blaming mages.
"Now," she said again, "what's happening?"
"We don't know."
"If you don't know, then how can you stop it?"
"We're working on it." Garon appeared to have gotten over his sulk, and he loosed a small pouch from his belt. "Miss, you would be better off leaving before you're seen with us again."
Her arms tightened and her small chin rose. "I can't. I left all of my belongings behind in the inn. I've got nothing but what's on my back, and given the driving off we received, I can't return for it, either. Whoever you all are, I've doubtlessly marred my reputation by getting involved in that little incident."
"All the more reason for you to leave right now," he said, dropping the pouch into her hands, "and forget everything you were just told."
Petra frowned at the weighted purse.
"Head to Pelas. Do yourself a favour and tell anyone there that you were uninvolved, that you chased us off with the rest and that we headed north through the woods."
"Could you not go back and claim innocence?" Anthis suggested as she looked back to the inquisitor in confusion.
"I could," she admitted, pressing the pouch back into Garon's hand, "but I don't want to. My reputation has already been sullied, and from my experience in such matters, it's better to let it lie, go forgotten and pretend I wasn't in the area at all rather than try to deny it or claim it was someone else." She smiled h
umourlessly. "I might stand out like a sore thumb, but my appearance has proven to be easily copied."
"You would rather circulate the suggestion of an imposter?" Rathen frowned. "Won't that also sully your name?"
"To a far lesser degree. In fact, it could even work in my favour."
"How?"
Her lips half-curved mischievously. "An imposter will always claim to be the original, and if people think I am my own imposter, I'll get more challenges while they try to take advantage of the opportunity and make a name for themselves. Meanwhile, my own actions will provide the truth, and I'll make more money."
Garon shook his head in familiar disapproval. "Not only are you encouraging violence and gambling, but now also deception."
She laughed drily. "No offence, Inquisitor, but you also have an unwanted light shining upon you right now, and I have to wonder just what you intend to do to save your own reputation."
He looked at her for a long moment, reading her eyes while the others glanced patiently between them. His lips soon twitched into a smile. "I would claim I wasn't involved, and was nowhere near the area when it happened."
Petra smiled victoriously.
"Steal an official sword and dress in black," Anthis nodded, "no one would know the difference. You're right: easily done."
Garon's brow dropped a fraction. "I'd like to think I was a bit more memorable than that."
"Not when no one looks past the uniform."
"I have no intention of staying for long," she assured them, turning back to the inquisitor. "I have my own matters to attend to, but for now I'd rather disappear, and if you're all doing the same, then it gives you the chance to repay me."
"I thought you were the one repaying a favour," Rathen frowned, finally rising back to his feet.
"I was, by trying to stop an attack. I had no idea I was going to incriminate myself by doing so, though."
Garon sighed and drummed his fingers on his folded arms, thinking for a long moment before sighing again and shaking his head. "Fine," he grunted. "So you're staying, for now. But understand this: whenever you should decide to leave, no one is to know anything of who we are or what we're doing."