Geresis snapped his heels together, turning formally to the side and marched towards the door. Vocha looked towards Rifnarus and Rifnarus shook his head. Let the man open the door himself. Geresis opened the door, stepped through and closed the door with over-dramatic stiffness. Rifnarus waited a few seconds then looked towards Vocha.

"Thoughts, Vocha." He didn't phrase it as a question.

"I believe two weeks in the cells a little harsh." Vocha, wrestled with his papers, finding the right sheet and making a note of the second Lieutenant's new rank. "As to the other matter. It is concerning, but events outside the walls of the city are, by your own admission, beyond our purview."

"True. That isn't what concerns me." Rifnarus held aloft another report. "The Three Kingdoms have declared war upon Eass and the Vale. They're so full of themselves after defeating the Lord of Shadows, they're flexing their muscles. Dependant on their success or failure in the east, they could turn their heads this way."

"A war on three fronts? That would be madness!" Vocha flipped through his notes, though Rifnarus knew he had nothing that could be relevant to this situation. "And they will find battling both the Eassfolk and the Fae a costly endeavour."

"Also true. In gold and manpower, but, since the war against Rürazar, the Three Kingdoms have fallen ever closer to madness." The crusade against mages showed Rifnarus how far the Three Kingdoms had fallen in such a short time. "Have all the Guards increase training, bring in the last five years of reserves and inform the rest to prepare to be recalled at a moment's notice. Also, send word to the Yürzlend Free Companies, we may need to hire some extra help. Oh, and send a runner to the Fā. They will need to be informed of possible incursions into their forest. That will be all for now."

"Yes, My Lord." Vocha had scribbled the orders onto his notes. He turned and left, rifling through his sheets as he moved.

Rifnarus sat back. Ambassador Marasall had defied him. Not openly, but enough to irk Rifnarus. The Hathbadis had always had streak of arrogance to them, but they had never shown themselves to be fools. Attacking both Eass and the Vale so soon after a crippling war was foolish, testing the resolve of a third party, even if said party was only a city state, bordered on the insane.

Even if the possibility of the Three Kingdoms turning their eyes west remained low, he had to take it as a probability and prepare for such an outcome. Tarkar's Bridge had not had to deal with war for many years, but anyone that attacked his city would find themselves waking a bear they would not find easy to defeat.

Rifnarus could see dark times ahead.

-+-

Progress continued at a slow pace. Far too slow for Sora. If Pirizd was not the murderer, and it appeared that he was not, then the real killer still roamed at large in the city. They had already killed three high profile figures and one innocent girl, bare more than a child. She needed to return to the city before more died, if they hadn't already.

This whole journey had turned out a huge waste of time. Now, dragging along almost fifty refugees, she felt as if even more time continued to waste. Especially as Klaron refused to show Pirizd and the refugees the shortcut they had used to get to this side of the forest. They had to make for the path used by Pirizd on his journey, instead.

She glared behind her at the refugees. The mages running from persecution in and around the Three Kingdoms, a place she knew little about, and the runaway slaves aching for their freedom. She pitied them, had sympathy for them, but they weren't her responsibility. They weren't her burden to bear and yet Klaron seemed glad to lead them like some great liberator. And Pirizd, regardless how beautiful and charming he may be, was even worse.

Watching the two of them, talking in hushed whispers, passing fevered looks between each other, Sora almost retched. They treated this exodus like a courtship. Not for the first time, she considered galloping ahead and leaving them to it. After all, she had no duty to any of them. She fell under the employ of her friend, Cierene, not the city and, for certain, not Lord Fancy-pants Rifnarus! If she sped all the way, sparing the horse few rests, she could reach the city in two days.

And now she had thought of Cierene's name, she felt the twisting in her gut. That unwanted, unwarranted fear for her old friend's life. It seemed possible, but unlikely, that Cierene could find herself targeted by the killer. She was, after all, only a courtesan, not the High Gardener. At least, not yet. Cierene was, most like, sat in some noble's lap drinking Larissan wine, wearing a dress that cost more than Sora's entire earnings for a year, with that ridiculous red hair washing over her perfect shoulders, framing her perfect neck and her perfect bloody face. Sora spat to the side and scowled.

"Oy! Miss!" A young Fae lad ran up to the horses and tugged at Pirizd's suede riding breeches. Pirizd looked down at the child and didn't correct him. "We got trouble ahead."

"What kind of trouble, little one?" Pirizd gave the Fae boy a warm smile.

"Soldiers, miss." The boy pointed northwards. "Birds told me."

"Birds? What's he talking about?" Sora looked northwards and saw nothing except a sharp rise in the landscape and the forest edge seeming to go on forever.

"The boy's a Forest Mage." Pirizd glanced at Sora, then returned his attention to the boy. "How many? How far?"

"Lots. Just behind that hill." The boy seemed to lose focus for a second, then returned, nodding his head. "Yeah. Lots."

"How many is 'lots'? Ten? Twenty? Thirty?" Sora had no time for vague words.

"I dunno! Birds can't count and I can't look through their eyes. I'm not powerful enough." The boy seemed embarrassed to admit it. "They say lots with long claws. So that's lots. With spears."

"What do you normally do in this situation?" Klaron calmed her twitching horse. The animal sensing the change in the people around it.

"I've never been in this situation. I've only ever had to deal with a few people in caravans, or a small party of people. Any more than ten or so and I can't fool them. I don't have the power to fool huge crowds like the killer." Pirizd's face fixed in a frown. Even then, he still managed to retain his good looks. "I don't know what to do."

"We fight!" Sora fell back to her first resort to most things. A bully threatens you, you give them a kicking. No hesitation. "There are enough mages here to do some heavy damage, surely?"

"They can't! That will just prove the Three Kingdoms right!" Pirizd rubbed his forehead. "It would only make things worse. I suppose we could hide in the forest?"

"No!" Sora and Klaron echoed each other, exchanging confused looks. Klaron continued. "The forest is dangerous. More dangerous than any number of soldiers. There must be something you can do, Pirizd! Think! How else can the mages be used if not to attack?"

"I don't know! I can't ... wait. Wait." He pursed his lips. "Some of the Forest Mages can grow a little shelter, I suppose. And I think there's a Weather Mage. They could do something. And with the help of a couple of less powerful Thought Mages ... Boy, gather the Forest Mages, the Weather Mage and the Thought Mages. We don't have much time."

The Fae boy nodded, grinning at Pirizd. Before he turned away, he gave Sora a filthy gesture. The kind of gesture she would have cracked heads over, back in the city. She gave him her most fierce grimace in return, sending him scurrying back to the following refugees, calling out names.

Within seconds, several people ran to the front and started taking their orders from Pirizd. It seemed risky, but they had nothing else to do. Sora considered what odds old Ghisrane, the bookie, would give her for the success of the plan. If she put one Talon down, she could buy a house Top-Side with the winnings, she reckoned.

The rain started first. Not a storm, but enough to cause someone to pull their clothes tighter around themselves and duck their heads. Then came the light mist, caressing the ground, hiding the fifty or so mounds of grass the Forest Mages had grown. Behind these mounds, under the mist, the refugees laid, holding their breaths. Even the children.

Pirizd dismounted and urged Sora and Klaron to follow suit. He gathered them all together, standing beside the horses, and he and the two other Thought Mages stood, hand-in-hand, before them, like a barrier.

At the first sign of spears peeking above the rise in the land, Pirizd closed his eyes, gripping the hands of the other two. The rain became little heavier. The mist twisted and writhed across the ground, flitting between their legs, creeping over their feet, clutching towards their knees.

The first soldiers crested the rise and continued their steady march southwards. They seemed to know exactly where they wanted to go, their eyes aimed in a direct line towards the Kustūr OasIs. Sora counted the men as they passed. Ten. Fifteen. Twenty. All the way to the fortieth soldier. Men and women. All humans. Their feet thudding into the now wet ground.

At one point, one of the Thought Mages staggered, almost exhausted. A ripple of heads turning in their direction made Sora grip her own spear, preparing to launch forward. She may not win, but she'd make damned certain they knew they had been in a fight. She lowered the spear head, pointing it towards the nearest soldier. No. She changed her mind and aimed it at the biggest. She felt Klaron, beside her, ease her sword from its scabbard, the metal tinkling as raindrops tap, tap, tapped the blade.

The Thought Mage collapsed, breaking the connection with Pirizd and the beautiful man, with his fine blonde hair, began shaking, gripping the other Thought Mage's hand even tighter. The soldiers continued to look towards them, some shuffling from the ranks, lowering their spears, frowning into the rain and the mist. Pirizd, as if struggling against something of great weight, turned his head to the front of the column.

"Get back in line, you dogs!" A man, in fine armour and carrying a spear with intricate carvings on the shaft, turned his head to the rear. "Any soldier that breaks ranks without my command loses rations for a day! March!"

The soldiers looked towards their commander and then back towards the the field of mist. After a few seconds, they returned to the ranks and continued their steady tread southwards, making the occasional glance backwards. Long minutes passed before they moved out of sight beyond a dip in the terrain.

As soon as the last spear passed from view, Pirizd and the other Thought Mage fell to the ground. Sora ran to the first mage to fall, only to find her dead, steam rising from her head as rain continued to fall upon her. Klaron checked Pirizd and he gripped her offered hand, though he did not try to rise. Sora moved to the other Thought Mage and found him unconscious, but alive.

Soon, the mist began to unravel and the rain moved away, following the soldiers' path southwards. The refugees started to rise from their grass hiding places, checking to see if each of them were fine. Some moved to the dead Thought Mage, touching their hands to their foreheads in signs of respect, whispering for the blessings of the Patrons upon her.

Sora fell back onto her backside, letting out a heavy breath, and glanced at Klaron. She too seemed exhausted, as if it were they that had held off the soldiers and not three brave Thought Mages.

She thought, again, about Cierene, safe in her cozy life in the city, and wondered if she even knew what she had sent Sora into. She better have some of that expensive wine saved for when Sora returned. Or there'd be Patrons' fury to fear.