A Soldier's Life

Chapter 180: Escape From Caelora &: Epilouge

We descended the tower together, Maveith’s heavy steps echoing, drawing a specter. A translucent elf appeared, wearing a leather apron and wielding a hammer. The black spear hummed as I effortlessly slashed through the phantasm.

We moved back into the main library. The vast chamber was much emptier than when we had arrived. Piles of fragile books lined one wall, but the company had broken apart most of the shelves to keep warm during the weeks we were there. We had tried to avoid burning the ancient books, but many had been used as fuel if they were deemed too deteriorated to be salvaged.

“Eryk, look.” Maveith paused and knelt. At first, I did not see it, but there were small footprints in the light layer of recent dust. “Goblin tracks,” his deep voice informed me.

“How many? Maybe we cleared enough specters that the local goblins have nested here.” I scanned the open room for movement.

“Small tracks, probably a young green. Only one unique set,” Maveith said after a moment, standing.

I could not help but laugh. “That little bugger. He must have followed us.” I explained to the confused goliath, “I used the goblin to distract the summoner. I left it in the dungeon, but it saw me exit. I guess it didn’t want to spend its final days in the dungeon.”

Maveith spent a few minutes tracking the goblin, but soon gave up when the tracks crossed themselves repeatedly. Most likely, the creature was hiding somewhere in the library. It just might survive if it could keep avoiding the specters. Maybe it would even follow us out of the library. At this point, it definitely deserved its freedom.

Outside the library, the snow was still present, compacted down to about five feet, and from the steps, we could only see the head of a single specter walking the streets. The city gates were still a few blocks away—maybe a quarter mile. There could also be more specters hidden below the snow if they were shorter. We had certainly seen a large number of spectral children during our time in the city.

“Maveith, maybe we could make some snowshoes from some of the shelving?” I suggested.

Maveith processed my words but looked confused. “How would shoes made out of snow help us?” I patted my tall friend on the back, smiling.

An hour later, we had makeshift snowshoes strapped to our feet—wide planks tied to our boots. I had gone snowshoeing a few times before and gave Maveith some advice. “One step at a time. Plant your heel first with your lead foot, and don’t rush it. My spear can handle any specters quickly, so don’t panic and fall.”

“I do not know... Are you sure these will allow us to walk on the snow? They do not seem enchanted, Eryk,” Maveith said, skeptical. I was concerned too—he was such a large man. Even slimmed down a bit, he was likely around 350 pounds—more with his gear.

I reassured the goliath, “The snow has compacted over the last few months. We shouldn’t have any trouble.” I climbed onto the snow first, sinking just an inch or two with each step. Maveith followed hesitantly; his larger feet sank a few inches, but he stayed atop the snow. He paused, amazed that it worked. As we walked through the blinding white snow, I led and stabbed any specter foolish enough to show itself. Fortunately, it seemed the specters could not see through the snow themselves.

We had walked the first block, halfway to the gate, when Maveith informed me, “The goblin is at the library doors.” I twisted awkwardly and saw the tiny goblin standing there, watching us leave. It was a pitiful sight, looking like we were abandoning the child-like creature.

“It’s light enough that it does not even need snowshoes. It’s on its own now. We need to hurry and get under the trees—we’ll be too visible against the snow to wyverns or eagles,” I said, turning and continuing across the snow. We reached the gate quickly and faced a problem: the gap in the gate was buried beneath the snow.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

While Maveith dug into the snow, I guarded him. Half a dozen specters interrupted his work, and he was struck twice while digging. I responded quickly, but they appeared suddenly from the snow wall. Maveith was limping but managed to climb over the snowpack on the other side of the gate. I followed, and we moved rapidly away from the walls of Caelora.

Maveith was leading, stumbling a few times as he missed his steps with the snowshoes. Soon we were under the cover of the barren branches. We stopped to catch our breath, both laughing. We were free.

We were on the eastern side of the ruins. We could head west to the city of Parvas, about fifty miles away, or south to Sobral, about seventy miles through dire wolf territory. Alternatively, we could head northwest, following the river back to Telha, the capital. As we rested under the trees, the tiny goblin emerged from the city gate, running wildly with books tied to its feet, mimicking our snowshoes. A few spectral heads pursued it, bobbing just above the snow as it raced for the trees. It disappeared into the forest, still running.

Maveith and I looked at each other and shrugged. That brief excitement over, Maveith asked, “Where are we going from here?”

“The company has nearly a day’s head start on us. I think they would have headed north to the capital if they exited near the northern wall. The city of Parvas is the closest, though—maybe just a two-day walk for us, following the river. Castile wanted to avoid Parvas because Duke Octavian’s son is the count there. But they have a portal to the capital. We might even beat the company to Telha if we go that way.” I realized Maveith was not aware of Castile and the company’s conflict with Duke Octavian.

After considering for a moment, Maveith questioned, “What about heading back to Sobral? Should we not inform the duchess of our success?”

I shrugged. “I’m a bit worried about the dire wolves with just the two of us, Maveith.”

“Parvas, then to the capital? Then I can take a ship back to Stone Mountain Island.” He nodded, as this route took him in the direction he wanted to go—to confess to his father.

We kept to the cover of the trees as we moved east. After about six miles, the snowpack had dwindled to just two feet deep, and we discarded our snowshoes. Maveith’s snowshoes had been falling apart anyway. We reached the wide, uncrossable Aganterao River and followed it toward Parvas.

The snow showed a lot of tracks—bears, gnolls, humanoids with boots, wolves, and even some horse tracks that Maveith insisted were centaur tracks. All these creatures had given the ruins of Caelora a wide berth, obviously smarter than us.

Night descended about halfway to the city. We made camp in the center of a group of evergreens and used the thermal stone to cook. The stone was a huge boon—providing heat for cooking without any smoke or scent of burning wood, that would attract creatures. Still, with just the two of us, I stayed on watch all night, while Maveith slept in short spurts with the amulet.

As Maveith entered another round of sleep with the amulet, I carried a glowstone a short distance into the woods. I listened for a while, only hearing the soft crackle of snow refreezing after the mild day. I considered waking Maveith but decided against it. There was a mix of jealousy and fear that he might leave with her.

Raelia stood before me, crouched in anticipation. The glowstone shadowed her features, and she exhaled a cloud of steam in the chilly night air. After seeing I was alone, she finally spoke. “We’re out of the dungeon?” Her posture relaxed.

“Yes. We are about twenty miles west of Parvas. Do you know where that is?” I asked.

With a note of sorrow, she looked around. “I know where Parvas is. Did Maveith not make it?” I doubted she would have had the same concern for me.

“Maveith is sleeping,” I said, adding a little white lie to spur her. “My company is not far off, with my mage commander. You should get going. I suggest traveling south, crossing the river, and making your way home.” I produced her pack and handed it to her. “There’s food and some fragile items inside, so be careful with it. You should make haste.”

She sheathed her blades and stepped forward to take her pack, surprised by its weight. She shouldered it and was about to turn but paused. “If you are ever captured,” she began, then hesitated, “ask for General Clalyn Glavien. I’ll tell my brother you helped me. He’ll make sure you end up in a work camp rather than strung up with the other legionnaires.”

“What a generous offer,” I replied with a mocking undertone.

She rolled her eyes at me one last time, checked the position of the moon, and trudged off into the snow. I listened to her footsteps fade away. I hoped she made it home safely. I wondered what her reaction would be when she saw the griffin egg and apex fire essences in her pack.

Certain she was gone, I returned to camp and warmed myself with the thermal stone. I took out the large pearl essence I had collected from the summoner and placed it in my mouth. A tingling feeling spread through my body as it dissolved. It was easy to swallow, like cool water, and chills spread from my abdomen to my extremities. My heart pounded, recognizing the potential power I was consuming.

I felt my aether core swell, and my aether channels flared in protest—I was going to need to get them repaired. The core enhancement briefly distorted my spell forms, causing me to lose my connection to the slow-aging spell before it re-established itself. I would have to ask Castile if increasing my aether core could endanger my spell forms.

When everything settled, I released a relieved groan. I showed restraint in not checking my attributes immediately. Once we reached safety, I could review my progress.

We started moving early in the day, walking along the river. A barge loaded with soldiers, along with a handful of legionnaires in red armor, came up behind us. We paused, thinking we could get a ride the rest of the way to Parvas—it was still nearly thirty miles away.

Even half a mile off, I could see Benito jumping up and down, pointing at Maveith and me, yelling something I could not make out as the barge changed course, heading toward us. The entire company crowded the bow as the craft scraped the sandy shoal below the bank where we stood. Castile could not hide her smile, and Konstantin shook his head. Benito was yelling about winning some bet.

We scrambled down the bank to board, receiving pats on the back and half-hugs. Curiously, one member of the company was missing—Flavius. The bargemen got the barge back into the river, grumbling about the smell of legionnaires they had picked up along their journey. The forty or so soldiers knew better than to complain about our unwashed bodies.

After being fed and deflecting questions for an hour by telling them we escaped by returning to the library and using the west gate exit the city, I ended up in a secluded spot on the bow with Castile and Adrian. Castile asked quietly, “The summoner?”

“He won’t be following us,” I said flatly. Castile nodded slowly, relief flooding her face, but she did not press for details. “Where is Flavius?” I asked about the missing member.

Adrian answered with skepticism, “Konstantin said a wight got him in the undercity when they scouted our escape route together.” Castile’s face remained unreadable.

Castile let out a long breath. “The Empire is at war. The Esenhem elves have landed on Amatalhos Isle, breaking the peace treaty that stood for centuries. Word is that the Boutan Orcs are also gathering a fleet, but no one knows where they will land once they sail.”

The summoner had mentioned the Esenhem elves. I stayed quiet, and Adrian continued, “Everyone is descending on the swamps south of Macha. There are even rumors that the Emperor might leave his palace.” My mouth fell open. A four-nation war was brewing over the site of the city of the giants, Atlantium—all because I told a single Truthseeker about it.

After I digested the news and my potential role in sending thousands of men to die on a swampy battlefield, I inquired, “Are we headed back to Macha, then? Maybe we should have stayed in the dungeon—it would have been safer.”

Castile smirked at my attempt at humor but looked uncertain. “I won’t know our orders until I report to the Legatus Legionis in Parvas.”

Castile observed the departure of legionnaire Eryk and the goliath from the safe room. Curiosity about how the young legionnaire would kill the earth drake pulled her to investigate. She considered sending her all-seeing-eye to follow them, but the extra aether required in the dungeon was best conserved. She was fortunate to have such a hidden power in the company, but keeping the others ignorant of it had become a full-time job.

Flavius, in particular, was starting to ask too many questions. Adrian believed he would try to gain favor with a First Citizen or Praetorian Guard when they reached a city. Castile had her own ideas on how to protect the legionnaire, but first, she needed to protect herself.

Her gaze swept across the room, taking in the rest of the legionnaires. Despite the looming danger of the summoner within the dungeon, a sense of camaraderie and determination radiated from them as they prepared. The summoner’s presence in the dungeon was a constant threat, and any attempt to flee would likely result in his swift pursuit.

Their best chance was to ambush him when he emerged, but even that carried considerable risk. If the summoner controlled the dungeon creatures, he could send them out first to occupy the company, then join the attack himself. Traeliorn’s reputation as the most powerful summoner on the continent overshadowed the fact that he was also a formidable battle mage. Though he had not fought on the front lines in a century, Castile had read the histories and knew how much of a threat he posed and how feared he had been when he fought the Empire.

The company’s best option was to distance themselves from the summoner and reach the safety of a city as quickly as possible. Castile reflected on the mission and still felt the pain of all the men she had failed and lost since Duchess Veronica assigned it to her. She wished she had never accepted it.

Young Lysander had been the first to fall in the undercity. Lysander had grown up in the village of Modena, near where she had been born. He was a good lad, and his fate was undeserved, just like many of the conscripted legionnaires in the Empire.

She chuckled to herself, remembering the times she had Delmar instruct Lysander to add too much salt to the soup or intentionally burn dinner. He sabotaged the food preparation without hesitation, taking the ire of the men for his poor cooking skills, even though he was following her orders.

Then there was Delmar, who had also fallen to a wight. He was from the small town of Corsica and sent most of his pay to his ex-wife and children, hoping they would grow up better than he had. As long as she lived, Castile vowed to continue sending the twenty silver a month that Delmar used to.

At first, she had suspected that Konstantin had orchestrated Delmar’s death, but after listening to the retelling of the combat and seeing Konstantin’s guilt, she decided he hadn’t intentionally gotten Delmar killed. Delmar was an excellent swordsman, his sternness contrasting Adrian’s congeniality with the men. She had been fortunate to have him in her service. The Empire had arrested Delmar for withholding artifacts obtained from delving, and he chose conscription over a decade of labor in the Imperial quarries. She had helped him get his gambling problem under control and counted him as a friend and loyal subordinate.

Her heart ached at the memory of young Felix and his infectious smile. Due to their cheerful personalities, she frequently paired new legionnaires with him and Mateo. Felix was from the northern coast, but she couldn’t remember the name of his town because he always said it was too small to deserve one. Felix had no woman but spoke fondly of his younger sister. Castile planned to write her a letter about Felix’s bravery and send some coin to help her.

Lucien, the horse master, was a good man and too decent a person to be forced into a soldier’s life. She believed he had an illegitimate child somewhere. She would check with Adrian, who knew all the men’s life stories.

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Lucien and Pavel had given their lives so that Benito and Lirkin had a chance to live. Pavel never spoke much about himself, but if ever there was a pious man in the company, it was him. He would have been much better as an acolyte of one of the gods. He had chosen to become a legionnaire rather than starve on the streets of the city where he was born.

Soren and Cyrus were two of the more malicious men in her company. Both had killed men in anger and mostly confided in each other. She was not saddened by their loss, but they had been her responsibility, so she had failed them as well. If Adrian knew of any of their children, she would send them something.

Finally, there was Remus, the red-haired man from Amphia. A sailor and foreigner from Gregor’s company, he had been involved in a brawl at the Telha docks and ended up in chains. He was outspoken and, truth be told, a bit of an ass.

Seven more names were added to the list of men she would have to answer for when she went to Pluto’s realm for judgment. The list was getting much too long for her liking—now one hundred and seventeen. She sighed heavily.

Her eyes turned back to the corridor where legionnaire Eryk had left. A real, honest-to-goodness otherworlder. She was certain of it now. He had too much naivety and far too much unrealized power. He was the key to her potential freedom. If he lived long enough, perhaps she could convince him to join the Hounds and eventually get close enough to destroy or switch her blood samples in the Archives. She kept nudging him in that direction—toward Konstantin’s circle—but it was probably reckless on her part.

He did have the dreamscape amulet, and she had never wanted to possess anything more in her life. Even though the created environment was a contrived fantasy, living in the dreamscape was the first time she truly felt freedom and control over her fate. Resisting the urge to request it was difficult, and she waited for him to offer it again. The boy did not realize that once they reached a city, it would not be long before a First Citizen confiscated the artifact.

Adrian sat across from her, and they began reviewing the mental and physical health of the men. Most were healthy enough for a forced march. The question was whether they could get a head start on the summoner and reach a city in time.

Rattling armor, drew everyone’s attention, and a scream echoed down the corridor. The swearing yell became clearer. “The summoner is in the owlbear room!”

Everyone froze. “Benito!” Adrian barked, and the nimble legionnaire raced off to get the others watching the harpy and earth drake rooms. The company rapidly began packing their gear, readying themselves for the dungeon exodus.

While the men prepared, Castile sent out her astral all-seeing-eye to scout. The damnable dungeon forced her to use far more aether than she liked, just to send the scout down the corridors. If they were lucky, the owlbear would slow the summoner. But she doubted it. Her eye reached the room, and she swore—the summoner was walking behind the owlbear, and his line of sight was directed right at her astral eye. In Elvish, he ordered the owlbear to run.

Castile snapped her vision back, her voice cutting the air with an order, “Into the gate! Runic weapons lead! The summoner has controlled the owlbear!” Clinking red-armored men scrambled forward into the exit portal. They disappeared rapidly, their numbers dwindling.

The noise of the charging owlbear echoed through the room. She looked to Adrian, who was counting the men. “Just missing Eryk and the goliath,” he said. She turned and saw them a few dozen yards down the corridor. For a moment, it looked like they might all make it before the owlbear, but fate had other plans.

The hulking owlbear burst into the room, and Castile tried to slow it down. Her wispy aether chains snaked across the floor and wrapped around the red-eyed owlbear. They were no match for the creature’s powerful frame. It tore through the shadow chains as if they were paper.

The owlbear screeched a sharp, piercing cry of challenge. Its glowing red eyes marked it as a dire owlbear, far stronger than the usual kind. Its body was saturated with aether, making it much more powerful. Eryk entered from the far side of the room, taking in the scene. He yelled at her, “Get through the portal!”

Castile looked at the foolish young legionnaire. Maybe he had a plan, but she doubted even her entire company could have taken on a dire owlbear. Maybe, if they had time to ambush it—and if one of the most powerful mages on the continent were not right behind it. Adrian stood next to Kolm in front of her, ready to protect her from the owlbear’s charge. She looked at Eryk and nodded. “Adrian, into the portal.”

Adrian hesitated, unwilling to leave Eryk. Castile recalled that Eryk had stood with him against a giant ettin. A man’s foolish bravado. She yelled at him, “Move! Eryk will occupy it with his air shields and follow us.” Castile stepped into the back veil exit, Adrian and Kolm behind her.

The gray light of early morning hit her. The tavern was a pile of rubble, and the invigorating, fresh, cold air filled her lungs. The men were engaged with a handful of specters. Konstantin’s blade flashed sparks as he got her attention, “Nine specters so far! Are you going to kettle them?” His sword sparked again on another specter.

Castile needed to decide quickly. “Form a defensive line around the exit! We will prepare for whatever emerges!”

Adrian added an order, “Eryk and the goliath still have to exit! Identify your target before releasing your bow!” Chaos ensued as Castile used the kettle to eliminate the specters, and the men formed a line facing the dungeon. The body parts of dead legionnaires were scattered, staining the snow red. The men’s feet packed the snow, and the specters were finally dealt with.

The goliath stumbled out of the dungeon, holding his side. A large patch of his soft abdominal leather armor was missing, and his flesh was pale in the early light. He stumbled past the four men in the shield wall. “Where’s Eryk?” Mateo asked the goliath as he passed his shield. Mateo slammed the bottom of his damaged body shield into the snow once the goliath was safely behind him.

The goliath turned to face the oily black wall. “He is coming,” his deep voice informed the men while he held his side and drank a potion. Castile moved closer to speak quietly with him.

“What happened, Maveith?” she asked.

Maveith seemed to gauge his response, but Castile’s impatience showed through. He whispered, “The owlbear is dead, but the ice drake was rushing toward him. He will be victorious.” He sounded as if he were trying to convince himself.

Castile processed the news. The dire owlbear was dead—one less threat. She looked around at the men, weighing options. “Adrian, get men over the wall. Clear an area on the other side, and I will use the kettle.”

Benito looked incredulous. “What about Eryk?”

Castile rebuked him a little too harshly. “We will wait as long as we can for him. We are not going back into the dungeon to help him.” Castile mused to herself that even if they tried, they would not find him in time to help.

“I will go look for him!” Benito chirped, moving toward the oily wall.

Adrian barked at him, “Fool! You won’t find him in time. He either exits soon or is lost to us.” Castile remained focused on the kettle as they guarded the exit.

Almost an hour passed before she looked at Adrian, and their eyes met in agreement. Adrian announced, “Over the wall. We are leaving!”

Maveith, who had been fidgety, questioned the orders. “We should wait longer.”

Castile shook her head sadly. “We cannot wait. The summoner has most likely prevailed and is probably gathering dungeon creatures to exit ahead of him.”

Mateo laughed half-heartedly. “Don’t worry. We’ll probably get to the city and find Eryk already at the baths.” A chorus of agreements followed, and Benito was already starting a betting pool on when Eryk would reappear. Most likely, no one would collect on it, as the dungeon would likely claim his body, but Castile did not stop the banter.

“I am going to look for him,” the goliath announced, pulling his hammer from his belt.

Castile was about to berate the goliath and order him to follow the company, but instead, she slowly nodded. “When you find him, tell him he should stop trying to play the hero.” The goliath nodded and disappeared into the black entrance. Everyone held their breath, but nothing happened.

Adrian’s voice broke the silence. “Over the wall! I won’t repeat myself!”

Packing down the snow and crossing the small plaza to the nearest standing house, they encountered numerous specters emerging from the white banks. Konstantin and Flavius led the way, holding most of them back. A few men were struck, but nothing serious as they smashed the door and entered the ancient shop. Soon, they were back in the undercity.

Konstantin did a quick sweep before reporting, “We should lay a false trail. That way leads back to the library, which should eventually lead to the city’s outer walls.”

Adrian was nearby. “If the summoner is following us, you should stop using the kettle. Let the specters reform and slow him down, along with whatever creatures he controls.”

Benito was within earshot. “How will Eryk and Maveith follow then?” Mateo pulled him aside to explain the reality.

Castile agreed with the plan, putting away the kettle. They moved, using the hearth tree’s roots to guide them. During a short rest, Konstantin approached Castile to talk quietly. “Flavius plans to report directly to the Legatus Legionis when we reach a city.”

Castile remained calm. “Why?”

“He thinks Eryk is an otherworlder, and that you knew about it. He is also certain that Durandus’ collector was in Eryk’s possession. He found multiple minor essences in the goliath’s bags.” Konstantin informed her, studying her for a reaction. When Castile did not respond, Konstantin asked, “What do you want me to do about it?”

Castile was unsure whether she could trust Konstantin, knowing about his other loyalties. Flavius could put Castile in a compromising position and force another tribunal in front of the Truthseekers. She looked Konstantin in the eyes. His weathered face was expectant. Deciding that she could trust him, she said, “Do what needs to be done.” He nodded and turned sharply.

An hour later, Konstantin came running from a side corridor he and Flavius had been exploring. “A room full of wights! They pulled Flavius in! Move before they realize there are more of us!” Konstantin moved to lead, pulling the company with him.

Castile paused while the men rushed ahead, sending her all-seeing-eye down the corridor. Two turns later, she found Flavius’s body, his throat slashed and a large pool of blood beneath him. His eyes were wide with shock. Damn it, Konstantin. The city would turn the corpse. Flavius would become a specter, or perhaps even a wight. A necromancer could commune with the undead if the Empire ever retook the city—a problem for another time.

They soon took stairs up into a tower guardhouse in the wall. The company stood on the wall, looking back into the city behind them. The snow-covered buildings and the massive hearth tree looked almost serene, but they knew the truth. Thousands of specters remained, guarding the city from outsiders for eternity.

“We should be able to jump,” Konstantin’s voice interrupted the moment. “The snow looks to be deeper than a man’s height, and it’s just twenty-five feet or so.” He did not wait for Castile and jumped. Everyone looked over as he thudded into the snow and disappeared. He freed himself and started moving away from the city with his runic weapon drawn. Soon, the entire company was on the ground, pressing through the snow. Only two specters interrupted their progress.

When they reached a copse of evergreens, they paused to look back at the city. It was just a bad memory now. Castile had only twelve men left, plus the scholar. Blaze noted a wyvern in the distant sky, but it looked to be keeping its distance from the city. “Do you think it’s tied to the summoner?” Adrian asked from her right.

“No. It is just circling in a lazy hunt,” she replied.

“Do you think Eryk is alive?” he asked a moment later.

Castile considered the question. “No,” she said sadly. “Get the men moving. We will march north and try to reach the capital as quickly as possible.”

Adrian hesitated, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder, consoling her. After the moment passed, he barked at the men, “I think you have rested long enough. Two men up front breaking snow. Rotate every ten minutes!”

The path north was difficult. It was miles before the snow depth finally eased, making the trek slightly easier. They camped near the river with no fires, huddling together for warmth. In the morning, they marched along the old trade road that paralleled the river.

“Sail! River barge!” Wylie announced from ahead.

They managed to flag down the barge, which was loaded with soldiers. When it beached on the bank, the captain of the unit reported to Castile, “Mage Commander. We’re headed to the eastern border. Do you need a ride?”

Castile looked over her men. They were exhausted and cold, and it was over a hundred miles to the capital. The nearest city downriver was Parvas, but Count Coccus, Duke Octavian’s second son, ruled the city. Still, they had a portal to the capital. “Yes, you can drop us off in Parvas, Captain.”

The men climbed aboard, relieved, and collapsed on the barge. The regular soldiers gave them a wide berth, and most of her men were asleep in no time. Castile settled on the barge as it broke away from the bank. She and Adrian moved to get news from the captain about what had happened during the past months.

“Where have you been, Mage Commander? The entire continent is about to erupt in war. The Esenhem Elves have taken Amatalhos Isle off the coast. Most likely, they’ll invade the mainland soon. It’s rumored that the Boutan Orcs are also preparing a fleet. There are rumors of other nations mobilizing as well, but they don’t hold much weight,” the captain explained.

Adrian was shocked. “Why?”

“The city of the Titans, of course. Rumor is that Atlantium has been discovered in the swamps south of Macha.” Castile and Adrian made eye contact before settling down and pressing the captain for as much information as they could.

Hours later, they drifted peacefully under a light breeze. The crisp air was warmed slightly by the water, but chunks of ice floated slowly by. The rushing water was a lullaby for most of the company. The serenity was broken as Benito began jumping at the front of the barge. “There he is! That red dot has to be him!”

The company stirred, and everyone moved to the bow to see what had gotten Benito so excited. As the craft moved closer, a person in legion armor was clearly walking on the high bank with a very tall person at his side. “I don’t think it’s him. The armor looks to be in too good condition,” Adrian whispered just to Castile.

Castile did not wait; she sent out her eye and returned it to her body a moment later. “It is him, Adrian. The boy survived again.”

“I will believe it when I see it. What do you think happened to the summoner?” he asked.

“I am assuming Eryk killed him,” she said flatly.

Adrian turned to Castile, doubt on his face. The barge grounded on the bank, and the men swarmed the two figures. Castile let the reunion play out, failing to hide her own smile. One less person to add to her death roll, although his survival might cause more problems down the line.

When things settled, Castile met Eryk with Adrian at her side. She asked quietly, “The summoner?”

“He won’t be following us,” Eryk said flatly. Castile nodded slowly, relief flooding her face, but she did not press for details.

Eryk looked around the barge. “Where’s Flavius?”

Adrian answered, “Konstantin said a wight got him in the undercity when they scouted our escape route together.” Eryk seemed stunned at the news, as he should have been. Flavius was an experienced scout, and maybe she would one day tell him that his death was to protect his secrets.

Castile exhaled a long breath. “The Empire is at war. The Esenhem elves landed on Amatalhos Isle, breaking the peace treaty that had stood for centuries. Word is that the Boutan Orcs are also pulling together a fleet, but no one knows where they will land once they sail.”

Adrian continued, “Everyone is descending on the swamps south of Macha. There are even rumors that the Emperor might leave his palace.” Eryk gawked in surprise.

He stuttered slightly at the implication, worry in his voice. “Are we headed back to Macha then? Maybe we should have just stayed in the dungeon. It would have been safer.”

Castile could not hide her smirk, but she also feared what was to come. At least with a multi-nation war, no one would be focused on her small company. “I won’t know our orders until I report to the Legatus Legionis in Parvas.

It was only half a day to Parvas, and the docks were full of soldiers and legionnaires. Adrian came back to report that the Legion Hall was packed and that the Legatus Legionis office was too busy to handle a report. The Telhian Empire was always on a constant war footing, but this was different. The Empire was under threat and mobilizing for a long campaign.

Adrian said heavily, “The Empire is pulling most of the soldiers from the western Agorian front. The forts along the swamp will be left with just a skeleton force. You can bet the trolls and troglodytes will take advantage. When all is said and done, you can expect the Empire to be much smaller.”

“Let’s just focus on living to see the end of it, Adrian,” Castile rebuked him. “Is the Count aware we are here?”

“No. The portal opens at midnight to the capital. We should be able to leave the city before he learns you’re here,” Adrian replied hopefully.

Castile kept her company at the docks, but even then, Konstantin and Firth managed to wander off despite her orders. She realized both needed to report to their masters. They returned just in time to march to the central square and join the company through the portal.

Arriving in the capital was different from usual. In their silvery armor, over a hundred of the Emperor’s legionnaires guarded the sunken plaza. Archers trained arrows on them before relaxing, seeing it was just wagons of supplies and a small Mage Company. Castile relaxed, relieved that no one was there to arrest her. She turned to Adrian and Eryk. “Get everyone to the Eastern Legion Hall. I will go and report directly to the Legatus Legionis office.”

Castile nervously made her way to the office. She had prepared a report while waiting in Parvas; all she needed to do was hand it over. The scroll detailed everything that had happened since they marched from Sobral City. She had prepared it with the Imperial Truthseekers in mind, confirming the details and answering questions before they could be asked.

She waited in a lobby to be dismissed, but was then asked to wait in a small conference room an hour later. Maybe they were just busy and could not deal with her at the moment. Hours began to blend together. She asked for a runner to inform Adrian she was waiting, but her request was denied.

Eventually, the door opened, and she was shocked to see Konstantin enter. He was followed by a tall, older woman with graying black hair. Though Castile had never met Antonia Segreto, the merchant queen, she recognized her. A third person followed them in—Centurion Cornelius, commander of the Eastern Legion Hounds. The door shut with authority, and she guessed Konstantin had betrayed her to his Praetorian master.

Konstantin moved to stand in one corner of the room, his face blank. Cornelius moved to another corner, his face wearing the deceptive smile of an old man. Antonia sat across from Castile and introduced herself, “I am Antonia Segreto. I have been following your career since your time in the Mage College.”

Castile was on the defensive. “I am flattered. Why am I still here? Was my report incomplete?”

Antonia laughed. “Incomplete? It reads like a tragic play. Most would think it fiction, concocted for sympathy.” She gestured to Konstantin. “He confirmed every word of it was true. And Firth reported the same to Cornelius.” Castile’s head snapped around to each person, trying to puzzle things out.

Konstantin, sensing her discomfort, tried to ease her fears. “You are not in jeopardy, Castile. They just want to talk.”

“Not in jeopardy yet,” Antonia corrected, her smile blossoming. “But if I continue, you will be. The question is, do you want me to continue?”

Konstantin looked irritated. “Just tell her, Antonia.” He faced Castile. “They need you. They need your ability to unweave spell forms before someone can manifest their spells. You are the only one who can do what they need.”

Castile was confused. “Who do they need me to use my ability on?”

Antonia looked at Konstantin. “I hate it when you disrupt my delivery.” She turned back to Castile, her tone conversational. “We need you on a special team—to help kill the Emperor.”

END OF BOOK THREE

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