Green blood poured out the knot-tattoos in Lord Three’s wrists, then swirled in the air around him. They took the shape of a dragon head, swirling around his wrists, but it was an attacking technique. He threw both hands toward Pirin, sending dragon-bat apparitions flying through the air in Pirin’s direction.

  Pirin pushed down on Gray’s nape, ducking under the technique, then pulled her to the side, guiding her toward the mountain range on the west side of the pass. He had to draw Lord Three away from the battle before he caused any lasting damage to the wall.

  The greenblood techniques soared through the air harmlessly, then smashed into the nearby mountainside, where one ripped off a mountain’s summit and another impacted its side. Rocks plummeted to the valley below.

  Using all his techniques, Pirin pushed Gray from behind and guided the wind in an aerodynamic shell around them, and they shot off to the edge of the canyon like an arrow. The mountaintops rushed by beneath them.

  But for all Pirin’s speed, he was only a Blaze. Lord Three launched himself along, holding himself up with swirling and pulsing tattoos, like they were a harness lifting his body’s frame itself.

  Pirin couldn’t outrun that for long. He needed to hide.

  He navigated Gray down to the sharp peaks below, then ducked side-to-side, weaving between the mountain peaks. His and Gray’s greater maneuverability had to be an advantage.

  But it didn’t matter. Lord Three smashed through a mountain peak with all the grace of a charging bull, scattering rocks and stone for miles beyond.

  In fact, he was gaining ground.

  Abruptly, Pirin pulled Gray to the left, then tugged up on her nape and navigated her to a nearby ruin.

  The abandoned watchtower and tiny castle had probably once been part of Dremfell, but now it was just a silhouette in the dust of the approaching army.

  Pirin turned to the side, passing behind a mountaintop, then flew straight into the cloud of dust. As soon as he entered, he veiled himself, and Gray did the same. If she fluttered her wings, she’d disperse the dust and give away their position, so she glided down to the surface with simple spread wings.

  Lord Three smashed through the ancient stone peaks behind them, swatting aside rock formations with the abilities his brutish Path gave him. But with a swipe or two, he could disperse the cloud, and Pirin had to get out of sight quickly.

  He and Gray glided down to the causeway of the watchtower and landed on a broken sandstone ledge—the ledge closest to the small castle’s entrance.

  Judging by the holes in the gateway floor, it might have once had a portcullis, but that was long-gone. Keeping his head low, Pirin ran into the tower, and Gray followed close behind, hopping along the bridge.

  Where are we going? Do you think this castle will hide us for an entire day?

  Pirin couldn’t talk without risking shattering his veil—or worse, without Lord Three overhearing—but he directed his thoughts at Gray, hoping she would receive them and pay attention: We can’t hide forever, but this watchtower will help us. We just need to buy time. He imbued his Essence with the thoughts and sent them across to Gray.

  Sure, but what if he just starts ripping the place apart and destroying it? Gray asked.

  Only if he wants to give us another distraction to escape under, Pirin reasoned, and hoped he was right. But if he wants to corner us and trap us? He can’t bring the roof down on us, because I’d just use a technique to survive. I’d push it away and run. But I also can’t bash through a wall like he can.

  But there was always a chance that Lord Three wasn’t thinking rationally, or Pirin had overlooked something. He drew the stub of his sword and maintained his veil, then retreated deeper into the main hall of the castle. Inside its base, it had a set of hallways, chambers, and a main hall—and eventually, a spiral staircase up to the two-hundred foot watchtower that looked over the entire valley.

  Pirin couldn’t stay out in the main hall. He ran off to the side, then ducked into a chamber on the wall. It had a window overlooking the valley, where he could keep tabs on the siege and the progress, while also staying hidden.

  Pressing his back up against the wall, he pulled Gray into the room as well, then laid a finger on his lips, urging her to be quiet.

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  Quiet. Got it! No squawks. I was doing pretty good, though, right?

  Pirin nodded.

  Out the window, the siege was progressing as expected. Weavelings ran up to the wall to fill the gaps left by fallen Sirdians, and now the upper wall bore a mixture of blue and gold. Archers rained arrows down onto the army below, and the artillery platforms, now safe from birds, set the siege towers in their sights and picked them off as they approached.

  Ladders pushed up against the wall as well, and though the weavelings kicked them down, more always sprang up. The repeating crossbow emplacements picked off soldiers as they climbed the ladder, but one-by-one, then emplacements and gunners fell to arrows from the ground. Return fire from the Dominion trebuchets smashed the wall, reducing ramparts to rubble or throwing bomb barrels into the city beyond.

  But for now, the wall was holding. Pirin needed to focus on his task and keep himself alive.

  He maintained his veil, then monitored the influence of Lord Three’s presence on his core. The push, the repelling effect of such a strong spirit.

  It was constant, but he hadn’t had as much time practicing with the effects of other people’s presences as other wizards had. He hadn’t been exposed to as much magic as them. To pinpoint it would’ve been impossible for him, let alone determine its strength while veiled. To tell what direction it was coming from, though, and how close? He could monitor that with relative ease.

  “I know you’re in here, elf,” Lord Three said. His voice rolled through the halls of the chamber, Essence fortifying it. “Come out, and I will make your end quick.”

  So far, it was just Lord Three. Lord Two was nowhere to be seen.

  Perhaps he wasn’t even here. Neria knew she didn’t need two Unbound to punch a hole in Dremfell, to kill Pirin.

  For now, she was right.

  “But I figure you’re not the kind to give up,” Lord Three continued. “Well, let me tell you this: I advocated for you to join us, instead, to give your service over to our empress and serve her. Become her Red Hand, of sorts.”

  Silence. He drew closer. The push of his core weighed heavily on Pirin’s own.

  “She said no, of course, and I listened. You think you’re free, and you want to stay free, hm? Well, let me tell you, there is nothing more freeing than giving yourself over to the whims of one higher than you, accepting your station in life, and obeying. Do you know how the Dominion was born, elf?”

  Pirin and Gray shared a glance. But truly, he didn’t know.

  “The Dominion was once a kingdom like the other Eight,” Lord Three said, “Ostanor, they called it. There was a parliament, there were wizard-kings, and there were the four Unbound. Yes, indeed, the Tarren family made a deal with the Unbound to help them overthrow the wizard king, but it wasn’t an isolated event.”

  Pirin shifted. Lord Three’s presence drew closer. He tilted his head to the right, where a doorway stood, leading to a smaller hallway.

  He and Gray ran to the smaller hallway, then ducked in, slipping behind the bulkhead-like doorway and hiding themselves from sight.

  And just in time. Lord Three leaned into the room they had been hiding in.

  He wouldn’t have seen anything.

  Sure enough, he leaned back out into the main hall and kept moving. “The people supported the Tarren family, you see? The regular people of Ostanor, those left starving, desperate, and forgotten by the old elites. They were the ones who overthrew the parliament and proclaimed Tarren Kaleaun emperor. They willingly ripped up their constitution, threw away their rights, for a semblance of stability and prosperity. Constitutional monarchy no more. Empire.”

  Pirin shivered.

  “When they didn’t have to worry about casting stones in provincial Choosings, they were free to pillage and conquer. When they didn’t have to debate the moral merits of their leader, they were free to follow.”

  But they weren’t free.

  Pirin pressed his lips shut. Either Lord Three was trying to rile him up, trying to draw him out, or he just wanted to hear himself talk.

  “The Emperor must be a cunning politician, a brilliant strategist, and a perfect demagogue. Wizard-kings were doomed to fail; most of their life is spent trying to absorb Essence and grow stronger. They have no time to learn politics. We are born to serve, Pirin.” Lord Three paused. “Of course, for you, the only way you can serve is to die.”

  Pirin and Gray evaded Lord Three for the remainder of the day, ducking from room to room, maintaining his veil.

  The Unbound scoured the castle. When he checked a room, Pirin and Gray tucked into one of the hallways joining to it. When he left, they slipped back into a room he’d just been in. Eventually, he began backtracking, punching holes in walls and tearing down hiding places, but it all cost him time.

  Almost every room had two entrances and exits, and he used them.

  The sun set and moons rose, then climbed to the top of the sky’s dome. The siege of Dremfell continued in the distance. Soldiers poured onto the walls, and a combined force of weavelings and Sirdians held them back. So far, the Dominion had only taken over one trebuchet tower.

  They still didn’t need Pirin.

  When the evasion game had lasted all night and the sun now rose over the eastern wall of the valley, Lord Three began ripping down the walls. He gathered greenblood around his fists and formed dragonhead gauntlets, then punched through the old stone. Walls crumbled and shattered, reducing the spots that both Pirin and Gray could hide.

  We need to make a run for it, Pirin shot to Gray mentally. We’ll climb the watchtower. It’s the best we can do to give the Sirdians just a little more time.