Instead of the happy noise of partygoers, there was only the nightmarish sound of screams. The side of the River’s End had been blown to bits, and citizens were scattering like deer.

  “Arévis!” Terran said, speaking her own thought out loud and looking to Althea.

  Without even thinking, she ran to the wreckage, and prepared herself for whatever horror lay behind the rubble.

  She caught only a glimpse of a small group of people, dressed in all black and wielding glowing handheld objects that resembled weapons unlike anything that Althea had never even seen or heard of before. She caught a glimpse of one that looked more like an ornamental scepter, crafted so delicately and beautifully that it appeared unfit to be in the scenery of chaos. They moved towards the hole in the now-empty tavern in unison, scouting silently.

  A cold hand on Althea’s shoulder nearly made her scream, but another covered her mouth as if anticipating this. She fearfully looked into the eyes of—Arévis.

  “We have to go,” Arévis said in a hushed, serious tone. Althea nodded and followed, Terran running behind Nevic, who must have come out with Arévis.

  “What is going on?” Althea asked, alarmed, running to keep pace with Arévis and Terran.

  “I didn’t think they were angry enough to smash the tavern,” Terran said, shaking his head, out of breath already from running. “Surely they can take a little constructive criticism towards beloved lute artisans!”

  Althea snorted despite herself.

  “They’re looking for me,” Arévis said, not meeting her eyes. “I knew they would be… I should have left sooner.”

  “You knew there were people that wanted to blow you up?” Althea piped. “Well, when were you going to tell me?”

  “Quieter is in your best interest,” Nevic said, to her annoyance.

  “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to,” Arévis said, still calm.

  This pissed Althea off to no end.

  “I was going to go with you!” Althea yelled, ignoring Nevic’s renewed complaints. “You’re right: I’ve outgrown Isold’s Academy and I’m ready to see what’s beyond Lantris. I thought we could go on an adventure together… yet you couldn’t tell me something you knew might put me in danger? I thought we were friends!”

  “Oh, I see,” Terran said, his voice defeated, struggling to keep pace, “So it wasn’t the beer. You were just going to leave the city.”

  “She at least gave you a goodbye kiss,” Nevic said under his breath.

  “Terran, this doesn’t make my feelings for you any less real,” Althea said, feeling terribly guilty.

  “No, just more exciting, right?” He said, still sounding angry.

  “Look, Althea,” Arévis began, sighing, “It’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s just that I didn’t think you’d have to deal with this. I didn’t see the point in dragging you into it.”

  Althea didn’t reply, opting to fume in silence instead.

  Arévis seemed to accept this. “We’ll pick up supplies from my place.”

  “Can we rest for a second?” Terran gasped. He stumbled behind a large tree and gulped in huge breaths of air.

  “Only for a second,” Arévis said, her chest heaving in the pretty blue dress Althea had picked out for her. Her hair was an unexpected mess of long, straight strands.

  “So why did a group of robed warriors blow up half a tavern, Arévis?” Terran asked, no less angry.

  “Not in front of him.” Arévis gestured towards Nevic.

  “Didn’t I just help you escape from there?” Nevic pointed out.

  “I escaped on my own. You followed me,” Arévis said, giving him a biting look.

  “It’s not that I don’t enjoy your company, Nevic,” Althea said diplomatically, “But why are you still here? We’ve only just met you.”

  Nevic nodded his head. “As a drifter, I go where fate takes me. I thought perhaps you could use my help.”

  “Habit of his—helping strangers,” Terran said in Nevic’s defense.

  “You don’t find this suspicious?” Arévis asked, “He’s even dressed like they are.”

  Terran seemed to consider this with care.

  “I can see why you don’t trust me. I wouldn’t in your position either,” Nevic said, his voice gentle, “I’ll leave you be if that’s what you want. But please take these with you.”

  Pulling back his cloak, Nevic unlaced a small pouch. Inside were faintly glowing red crystals.

  “These are some rare Volarachian crystals. They have certain properties that make them easier for… transmission.”

  Nevic pulled out a crystal for each of them, placing the tiny shards in their palms. Arévis accepted hers without moving a facial muscle.

  It reminded Althea of the glow of a forge. She turned the crystal over in her hand. It was slightly warm from nestling in Nevic’s pouch under his cloak. Or was it because of what was inside?

  “If you should need my help, just call on me.” He smiled.

  Arévis held up her crystal to the starlight, examining it from every angle.

  “These are trackers. You want to keep tabs on us.” Arévis threw hers to the ground and stamped it into the soft earth with her sandaled foot. She looked him in the eye as she did it.

  He watched impassively.

  Althea and Terran remained silent.

  “That’s the whole point,” Nevic agreed, “If you need my help, how else will I find you?”

  “Help with what, Nevic?” Arévis asked, “They won’t be a problem.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “And you do?”

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Althea watched them both closely, irked at how they ignored her.

  “Care to explain any of this to the bystanders?” Althea cut in.

  Even Terran looked to them, sweaty and panicked from the confusion.

  “Why don’t you? You certainly seem to know who they are,” Arévis suggested.

  “Alright, I do know,” Nevic admitted, “All the more reason why I’d like to go with you.”

  He sighed.

  “They’re members of The Artificer’s Guild. I can tell from their weapons and attire.”

  It was like the dead of night tried to swallow her whole, and the stars skittered away like scared children.

  “Your guild,” Althea whispered.

  She frowned and looked to Arévis, desperate for an explanation.

  “I thought they were dead, Arévis,” Terran asked, hesitating.

  “The ones from Lantris are,” Arévis said, looking defeated. “These are members from elsewhere. Perhaps the forest.”

  “How do you know about this?” Althea asked Nevic, her head swimming with questions.

  “The Artificer’s Guild is an ancient guild. It was founded in Volarach. They worship the Goddess of the Forge, Nora.” He said.

  Althea knew of Nora from her studies. She was one of the oldest goddesses in existence. The legends said that she discovered smelting and changed warfare altogether. But that was long before written history. What was certain was that she held the greatest weaponry secrets on the earth, and Volarach boasted her as their founder.

  “Isold sent you off to another goddess’ guild?” Althea asked her, confused.

  “She did,” Arévis said, her voice hard.

  Just as she said it, a stream of fire roared above them, scorching the trees they hid between. Althea let out a surprised scream and ran to avoid the inevitable collapse. She shielded her face with her arms, blinking rapidly.

  As the fire blazed bright in the night, a path of wreckage lay in their wake, and in front stood four hooded figures, all in black, holding their peculiar devices.

  Terran had ash on his face and looked shaken, but appeared to be all right. Nevic and Arévis were nowhere to be seen. He leaned on a tree whose crown had just caught fire.

  Althea shouted, “Look out, Terran!”

  Another blaze hit that tree, and it slowly yawned to one side. A cold dread gripped Althea, and as she reached out for Terran, the sound of splintering wood slowed. Instead there was the sound of crystals subtly infiltrating the loud blaze of fire; the slow crack and glaze of ice froze the tree in its crooked place. A single iced leaf fell off in a brittle flutter.

  Arévis emerged from the shadows, looking livid. It terrified Althea.

  “So you’re finished hiding,” a low voice said from behind one of the hoods.

  “I was never hiding,” Arévis bit out, “Perhaps you’re just terrible scouts.”

  A chuckle came from another hooded figure, this one larger than the others, wielding what looked like a large axe with a brilliant stone in the center. The etched carvings looked very much like Nevic’s bracelets, but this axe was gleaming and bright rather than black, and its script was glowing.

  “You’re younger than I thought you’d be,” said another figure.

  “Don’t let it fool you,” The last one said, clutching the pole weapon tightly, “You know who she is.”

  Frost crept up the ground and tree trunks, towards the Artificers.

  Althea thought to help, but had never been in a battle before. Yes, they had attempted to kill Arévis and didn’t seem to care that she and the others would have been casualties. But could she really stomach hurting them? Was she prepared to kill if she had to?

  Arévis flicked her hand forward like a sword and larger crystals sprang up from the ground like stalagmites, sharp and menacing. The figures scattered at the onslaught. One of the Artificers screamed as a crystal impaled him. Althea could only watch in horror as he wriggled helplessly, the crystals growing until his skin was latticed in ice, and his movements slowed as he froze entirely.

  Althea tore her eyes away to look at Arévis, who was intensely focused on the task. Even as the others started to attack, Althea couldn’t bring herself to react properly.

  The large one swung his axe into the ground, and the frosted grass burst into flames only to die out quickly, smothered by frost. It was enough to make Althea turn and push Terran from harm’s way, running and grabbing his wrist as he protested.

  As they ran towards Arévis’ cottage, Terran stopped abruptly.

  “Run!” Althea urged, still trying to push.

  But the reason Terran had stopped was because a thin figure had come before them, wielding a pole weapon with grace. Althea wasn’t quick enough to react to the sudden lunge, or the grunt Terran made at the action. The soft metallic sound of the blade withdrawing from flesh was far too loud. She watched as the figure turned to her, and as if time had slowed, she could hear Terran dropping to the ground.

  Thinking only of revenge, Althea balled her fists, and prepared to rain fire upon the worthless murderer that stood before her.

  Instead, the Artificer made a wretched cry and curled in on himself. Behind him stood Nevic, a bloody serrated knife in his hand, a grave expression on his face. He wiped his blade quickly and knelt beside Terran’s form, working fast. Althea knelt, watching as her dear friend’s shirt was pushed up to expose a wound steadily gushing. Terran’s breathing was ragged and as he looked down, he tried to clutch at the wound with trembling fingers. Nevic pushed his hands away, and Terran lost consciousness.

  “I’ll save him,” Nevic assured her. She must have gasped.

  Nevic pulled several vials out of his cloak, uncorking and pouring each on the wound with practiced efficiency. Althea recognized one of them as a blood coagulant, but the others she had never seen before in all her years of study. Nevic pulled out some moss and bandage materials.

  “I—I can heal him,” Althea stuttered, far too late.

  “Then help me,” he said. He withheld the dressings as Althea put her hands upon Terran’s stomach. She coaxed the damaged tissue to knit itself back into place. She could feel his body’s deprivation as the precious blood spilled. Terran’s breath stuttered. She had never put her skills into practice like this, on an actual dying person. She shook violently at the thought of messing up now. But she could feel the complex parts knitting, exerting as much effort as she could bear. Finally, scar tissue formed like a pearly bandage on Terran’s bloody flesh.

  Althea let out a short sob and gripped at Terran’s shirt, relieved and terrified.

  Nevic stood, his hands bloody. Althea probably didn’t look much better. He picked up the pole weapon and observed the blade at the tip. With strength that seemed impossible for his wiry build, he plucked the blade from the weapon, and discarded the pole. He pulled back his cloak to tuck it away in some pouch. Althea watched as he sheathed the knife he had used to kill the Artificer. She caught a glimpse of a peculiar arrangement of discs secured to the inside of his cloak. The cloak fell back into place and Althea looked away, back to Terran on the ground.

  Terran’s eyes fluttered, and he awoke, attempting to sit up with uncoordinated motions.

  “You’ll require some recovery time, but you’ll live,” Nevic explained, offering a hand to help Terran up. Terran looked to Althea who was panicked and bloody, and a glimpse of worry passed over him. He took Nevic’s hand. Althea did too.

  “We should probably leave before anyone arrives,” Nevic urged.

  Arévis joined them.

  “I’ve taken care of the other two,” Arévis said. She held each weapon in her hand. In the distance, Althea could see another white shape, like a grotesque statue. She looked away.

  “I’m going to get some supplies from my cottage,” Arévis explained, “I’m leaving for the forest.”

  Terran stumbled, and Althea caught hold of his middle, helping to support him.

  “The blood will come back to you,” Althea assured him, elated that he was still warm in her arms.

  Arévis fidgeted for a moment, eyebrows knit.

  “I’m sorry,” There was despair in her voice like Althea had never heard.

  Althea frowned.

  “Arévis?” She asked, still shaken. “Why is this happening?”

  Arévis looked to her, to Terran. She didn’t spare Nevic a glance.

  “I don’t know what they want, Althea. It could be any number of things,” she admitted.

  “Somehow I don’t think they want to re-induct you,” Terran rasped.

  Arévis spoke after a moment, “That don’t need to. Once a member, always a member.”

  She turned to Nevic, who hadn’t moved.

  “Isn’t that right, Nevic?”

  He nodded.

  “That’s right,” he agreed, his voice low.

  “Can I stay with you tonight, Arévis?” Althea asked, shaken.

  “Of course,” Arévis assured her. Then she said in a cool voice, “It was a pleasure meeting you, Nevic. I presume you’ll be on your way?”

  Nevic bowed. He turned his black gaze to Althea, as if imploring her. “I hope we meet again.”

  His gaze flitted to Arévis, where it lingered before he departed into the night.