Meleng stared ahead, but didn’t really see anything. Right now, he was a mixture of exhaustion and worry, and little existed beyond that. Technically, he was back at his post in the entry foyer, ready to activate his circuits if the forces outside made it to the doors. But it was pointless. They weren’t coming up. Even if they wanted to—and he was fairly certain they didn’t—they weren’t going to get past Jorvan, who had the far superior position.

Mitchal Plavin’s presence inside the Hall of Knowledge should be the higher priority. Pedrin said that was their priority, but he still insisted Meleng stay here for now, “just in case.” Until they figured out what they were going to do.

And maybe after that too.

Pedrin said Meleng was too close to the situation.

Of course he was close! Sinitïa could be in danger. So could Agernon and Corvinian. He had no idea where they were or what had happened to them.

Everyone here was emotionally involved in the situation. Many had lost friends and colleagues below. Was Meleng’s situation all that different?

One thing was certain. If Sinitïa was hurt or, gods forbid, dead, he would…

He had never before in his life felt such an intense desire to kill someone. But he would.

He would kill Mitchal Plavin, or die himself trying.

There was a loud thud near him. “Wake up, boy.”

Meleng blinked several times. As his vision cleared, he looked at Angelida who was now standing beside him. She was raising her cane to make another thud. “I’m awake.”

She lowered her cane without thudding it. “Physically maybe, but lost in daydreams.”

“Not exactly.” He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, nothing about Angelida had changed, though he almost wished something had. It this were an illusion, maybe the real Sinitïa was safe.

Angelida closed her eyes briefly and gave a slight nod. “I understand your distress, lad. I’ve loved before. But you need to focus that anger and worry into something constructive. Come.”

“Where?”

Angelida pointed with her cane to the back of the foyer, where Pedrin was pacing. Near him, Feviona stood with her head to the ceiling, deep in concentration. “We need to change our strategy.”

“I’ve tried to suggest—”

“And you can try again with my help.” She grabbed Meleng’s arm and yanked him forward.

“Okay, okay.” He pulled his arm free and followed Angelida over to Pedrin.

“Pedrin, we need to talk,” Angelida said as they reached him.

Right then, Feviona threw up her arms and stamped her foot on the floor. She signed several things that Meleng was pretty certain were expletives.

“What’s with her?” Angelida said.

“She’s been communicating with Mikranasta, I think,” Pedrin said.

Angelida scowled. “Still not coming to our aid, I take it?”

Pedrin shook his head. “So it would appear.”

Feviona stomped over to them. “Sometimes, I wish her wings would rot, she drives me so crazy! Well, fuck her. We’ll do this on our own.”

“What’s she saying?” Angelida asked.

Meleng gave a slight shrug. “Just confirming that Mikranasta isn’t helping, and saying that we can do this on our own.” After a pause, he added, “I think.” He felt a bit odd having become Feviona’s translator. He hadn’t mastered the language yet. In fact, he was far from mastering it. With most of her signs, he was filling in meaning just from context rather than actually recognising them. He couldn’t be sure he was understanding exactly.

Of course, did it matter if it was exact, as long as the meaning was there? It was like his equations. Close was good enough.

It was easy to tell himself that. It was much harder to believe it.

“Tell her we need to start planning our attack,” Angelida said. “Pedrin, I’m sorry, but we’ve waited long enough as it is. You’re being far too timid in your approach to this.”

“Good people have died,” Pedrin said. “I’m trying to prevent more.”

“And doing nothing disrespects those who have already died.”

Pedrin rounded on her. “Look, I’m not a warrior. None of us are. I’m doing the best I can.”

Angelida pointed to Feviona. “She is. Perhaps we should follow her lead.” She stared at Meleng for a moment. “Well?”

Meleng blinked. “Oh right.” Translating Feviona’s words was one thing; having to turn the others’ words into signs was a lot harder. “They want to start planning to attack.”

Feviona nodded. “Good.”

“And they want you to do the planning.”

Feviona smiled. “Good. Then this is what we will do.”

Meleng translated as she launched into her plan. “We have to assume they have an underground path into the Hall of Knowledge you don’t know about.” Feviona had asked earlier for schematics of the Hall, but Pedrin had informed her they didn’t have any original ones, only ones that had been drawn after the Hall’s construction. No one knew for certain what had happened to the original schematics, but it was believed they were in the possession of the Belones. The Bloods’ presence in the Hall now had pretty much confirmed that belief. “We need to find that passage.”

“How?” Angelida asked. “And even if we find it, it will be guarded.”

“Of course it will,” Meleng translated, “but that’s fine. They must have...um...uh...oh! They must have a line of communication between those outside and the ones inside. We need to get them to use it so we can follow it. We will attack the ones outside.”

“But there are so many more out there,” Pedrin said.

Meleng translated for Feviona, but he didn’t need to wait for her reply. “We have the advantage of open space outside, specifically the sky.” He signed his own words as he spoke. “Jorvan has been holding them off by himself. He and Feviona, together with the rest of us, they won’t stand a chance.”

Feviona nodded approvingly.

“But what about the ones in here?” Pedrin said.

Angelida shook her head and sighed. “You’re smarter than that, Pedrin. I’ll assume it’s the lack of sleep. As Meleng explained already, we need to find that passage. When they come under heavy attack, they’ll send a message. We have to catch them doing that, and follow the messenger.”

“And if we don’t spot the messenger?” Pedrin asked.

Feviona shrugged. “Then we hope our attack is enough to lure the...” something… “commander out.” She didn’t have a name sign for Mitchal Plavin, so had taken to referring to him as the commander along with some sort of derogatory adjective. Meleng wasn’t sure what precise word she had described him with this time. It had never occurred to him before just how many ways there were to insult a person.

“If we do spot the messenger,” Angelida said, “who does the following?”

Feviona sighed. “Ideally, it would be Mikranasta, but that shit-for-wings won’t do it, so I leave it up to you to recommend someone.”

Meleng grimaced. “Uh, she’s willing to take recommendations since Mikranasta won’t do it.”

Pedrin rubbed his chin. “I’m not sure who to suggest. We don’t have any other mentalists.” He looked to Angelida. “Who do we have who’s good at staying out of sight?”

Angelida leaned on her cane. “Feena perhaps, though I’m loath to put her at such risk.”

“You’re the one who said we have to do something,” Pedrin said.

Angelida scowled. “I know, but she’s only fourteen. What about Fridrin?”

“They’re deciding who,” Meleng told Feviona.

She came over to him while Pedrin and Angelida continued to argue. “How are you doing?”

Meleng sighed. “Tired.”

Feviona tilted her head and just looked at him.

“And worried,” he added.

She gave him a sad smile, then stepped up closer and wrapped her wings around him. He bent his head down so they could touch foreheads, and wrapped his arms around her neck.

They stood there for a few moments. Meleng closed his eyes, and tried not to cry, though a few tears dropped anyway. Feviona pressed her wings tighter against him, and he did the same with his arms, held her tight. So tight. The tears fell liberally.

Eventually, they separated, and Meleng wiped his eyes. It had probably been no more than a few seconds—Pedrin and Angelida were still arguing—but it had been a nice few seconds.

“We will find her,” Feviona said.

Meleng nodded. “I know.”

“When we take the shit-caster commander, do you want me to save him for you?”

Meleng stared a moment, then shook his head. “No, if you get the chance…” He paused. “If you get the chance, kill him. Don’t wait for me.”

Feviona placed a hand on his cheek, leaned forward, and kissed his other cheek. She stepped back. “I promise you, he will die.”

“Thank you.”

“Now come. While those two argue, we need to make other preparations.”

* * * * *

A bitter wind blew across the front of the Hall of Knowledge. Meleng wasn’t sure if it was natural or whipped up by Jorvan. It didn’t really matter which; only its presence mattered.

Most of the Hall of Knowledge conjurors were now lining up in front of the now-open main doors at the top of the steps. Most of the enchanters, including Meleng huddled behind them. Jorvan and Feviona circled above. A few wizards, including Pedrin, remained inside to watch in case Mitchal Plavin and the Bloods inside tried to come up from behind.

Down below, the soldiers and Bloods scrambled about, gathering bows and other weapons. Some attempted to ready a broken ballista. They clearly knew they were about to come under attack, and were panicking.

Jorvan would give the signal to attack. The plan was to not wait long. They couldn’t be given time to prep a defence. Even though Meleng knew it had been a matter of seconds since he’d stepped through the door, the wait still seemed interminable.

Then the wind picked up. It blew past the wizards, ruffling hair and clothes as it flowed down the front of the building, picking up speed as it went. Then it tore into the forces below, knocking off archers’ aims, scattering small unattended objects, even causing some people to slip on the icy ground and collide with others.

Fire and ice erupted from the conjurors, shooting down at the Bloods, hitting some, missing others, also hitting a few of the Belone soldiers. The plan was to target the Bloods and avoid killing too many of the others. Unlike the Bloods, who had chosen their life, many of the other soldiers had likely been conscripted and weren’t entirely here by choice.

Near Meleng, Angelida clutched her fists in front of her. She flicked them open and thin shards of metal shot out. It was hard to see exactly where they went from this distance, but a Blood who looked like he might be in line with them did fall over.

A moment later, Feviona flew down, weaving between the streams of fire, ice, rock, and metal. Her sword cut through the Bloods’ armour like it wasn’t even there. One Blood went down, and she swerved round. Another Blood dropped, and she flipped over, swiping her sword through a passing ball of fire. The blade came away flaming. She then drove it through a Blood’s helmet and his head. After pulling the sword free, she flew back over the top of the forces.

Jorvan had said Feviona was a very good flyer. Meleng was now convinced that had been a massive understatement.

“Damn it.”

Meleng glanced at Fridrin beside him.

Fridrin was squatted against the wall, rapidly tracing equations onto a piece of glass. As he completed one, the glass shifted and bulged a little. He shook his head and traced a new equation, and the glass changed its shape again.

“You okay?” Meleng asked and turned his attention back to the battle. He was supposed to be watching for anyone trying to get away.

“This is harder than I expected. The noise is very distracting.”

“Just stay calm.” There was so much smoke below now. Anyone who wanted to get away had more than enough concealment. Meleng suspected numerous people were already taking advantage of that. Even if he could see them, he had no idea how he would be able to tell which ones might be messengers and which ones were just trying to flee.

“There,” Fridrin said.

Meleng looked back again. The glass in Fridrin’s hand had reshaped into a magnifying lens. Fridrin handed it to Meleng, then pulled out another piece of glass and started tracing equations on it.

Meleng held the lens up to his eye and peered over the battlefield. There was still a lot of smoke obscuring things, but at least with the magnification, he could more easily distinguish between shapes in the smoke. He still had no idea how to determine if any of them were messengers, but he decided he should just pick a random shape and follow that person as far as he could. Preferably a shape that looked lightly encumbered, able to move swiftly.

They had ultimately decided that finding and catching such a messenger was probably not going to happen, but it was worth trying anyway. However, Feviona was also going to make certain to take a few prisoners for interrogation.

Meleng spotted a figure near the back right, where there was less smoke. The individual wore the Belone tabard but did not appear to be armed. They were running away from the battle.

Feviona flew past Meleng’s field of vision. When she had passed, Meleng couldn’t see the individual anymore. After a moment of searching, however, he spotted them again. They were running down one of the streets. Thankfully, the locals had cleared out, probably holed up indoors, so it was easy to spot people on the streets.

Meleng nudged Fridrin, then pointed.

Fridrin had managed to create a second lens and turned his attention towards where Meleng was pointing. Unfortunately, the individual was now getting far enough away that even the magnification was not helping, so Meleng doubted Fridrin could see anything.

“Probably just a deserter,” Fridrin said.

“Maybe,” Meleng said. “But it gives us one possible direction.”

That one possible direction soon became one of a dozen or more, so many others were scattering. Some of the Bloods yelled for them to return, but even some of the Bloods were running too.

Feviona flew down at one of the Bloods not fleeing. She flipped around as she reached him, not striking with her sword, but instead running her fingers across his chest. His armour crumbled away. He tried to grab her, but she flipped over again, batting him with her wing before flying away.

Ice rose up by the Blood, flowing like water over his feet and lower legs and affixing him to the ground. He bent over and tried to yank his feet free, but more ice rose from the ground in two columns, wrapping around his wrist and arms. He struggled, but the ice held him in place.

Not far away, Feviona landed between two remaining Bloods. When they both ran at her, she leapt into the air again. Each of her wings made brief contact with the Bloods before she was out of their reach. Both froze in their tracks, as their armour collapsed inwards. Meleng held back some bile as their armour crushed the Bloods, spraying blood out in every direction.

Meleng lowered the magnifying lens and followed Feviona’s path through the sky with his bare eyes. Gods, she was astounding. How in the world did she manage to trace two equations simultaneously, especially with her wings while still using them to fly?

Several of the conjurors, including Angelida, were now slowly descending the stairs. Jorvan must have removed the ice sheet that had covered the steps, as it was now gone. The conjurors continued to throw fire, ice, and more at what remained of the opposing force, but there weren’t a whole lot left now.

Another Blood fell, leaving only the armourless one held by Jorvan’s ice. A moment later, Feviona landed. She crossed the battlefield systematically, running her sword through the bodies of the Bloods, making sure none of them still clung to life.

Fridrin nudged Meleng. “We should probably join them.” The remaining conjurors and enchanters were starting down the steps as well.

“Shouldn’t we let Pedrin know?”

“Feena already went to do that. You’ve been too busy watching Feviona.” Fridrin chuckled. “Don’t blame you. I can only dream of being a tenth the wizard she is. But she’s an Isyar. She’ll always be better than anything we can muster.”

Meleng nodded, and they started down the steps.

“You two are pretty close, aren’t you?”

“She’s my fomaze.”

Fridrin gave him a blank look.

“It’s an Isyar thing. Kind of makes you more than a friend, less than a spouse. Sort of. I’m still getting used to it myself.”

“Are you...I mean…” Fridrin paused in stumbling over words to stumble on the slippery steps.

Meleng reached out to help steady him, and then they continued.

“What I was trying to say is, aren’t you with Princess Sinitïa?”

“Yeah, she’s…she’s my…” Fear shot through him, and his heart beat faster. “I don’t even know if she’s alive. I have to find her.”

“Oh, oh my,” Fridrin said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

“It’s okay.” Meleng picked up his pace. “I need to get to Feviona.” He nearly slipped a couple of times in his rush to reach the bottom.

The wizards had spread out across the battlefield. Most were checking on the injured soldiers and rounding up those who could still move unaided. Feviona and Jorvan were by the captured Blood. Meleng hurried over to them.

Angelida joined them just as Meleng reached them. “I’d say that went well. Does he know anything?”

“He is refusing to speak,” Jorvan said.

The Blood spat at Jorvan. “I don’t speak to lesser beings.”

Angelida smacked him in the face with her cane, then used the cane to point at Feviona. “That...lesser being as you put it just slaughtered most of your compatriots. You would do well to listen to both of these people and answer their questions if you know what’s good for you.”

The Blood spat blood on the ground. “I don’t acknowledge you either.”

Angelida leaned in closer to him. Normally, the Blood would be much taller than her, but in the hunched-over state he was held in, she was able to speak directly into his ear. “You stupid boy. What do you think you’re doing right now?” The Blood tried to bite her, but she stepped back with a laugh.

He really was a boy. Sixteen or seventeen. Maybe younger. Blood trickled from his lip and he looked about to cry. Meleng shook his head sadly.

Jorvan said something in Isyarian to Feviona, who nodded in response.

“What was that?” the Blood said.

Jorvan said something else, and Feviona smiled broadly.

“What are you going on about?” the Blood demanded.

Jorvan looked at him, feigning surprise. “Oh, are you talking to me? You said you would not speak to me, so I thought it must be someone else.”

The Blood spat at him again, but there was less energy to it.

“We know you have a way into the Hall of Knowledge,” Jorvan said. “It is presumably an underground passage. Where is it?”

The Blood grunted.

Meleng pointed. “I saw someone running that way. There were a lot of people running, but none of them went that way. It doesn’t mean anything, but…” He shrugged.

“Was that a messenger?” Jorvan asked the Blood. “Is that the way to the tunnel?”

The Blood grunted again and stared at the ground.

“It would be wise to answer, boy,” Angelida said.

The Blood pointedly looked away from her.

Jorvan sighed. “I do not wish to cause you pain. If you would just answer…”

Still the Blood didn’t answer.

Someone else was calling though.

Meleng looked back to the Hall of Knowledge. Feena stood at the top of the steps, waving and calling. Some of the wizards were heading to the steps towards her.

“I’ll find out what’s happening.” Angelida pressed the bottom of her cane against the Blood’s cheek. “Find out what this fool knows.” She shoved her cane and he cried out. Then she turned and walked towards the steps.

“I suspect she will do worse when she returns,” Jorvan said. “You would do best to do as she says. Tell us the way to the tunnel.”

The Blood spat more blood. “Fuck you.”

Feviona stormed up. “We don’t have time for this. Tell him to speak or there will be more of this.”

Jorvan looked at her quizzically, but nodded. “My fomase says to speak or she will do more.”

The Blood growled. “More what?”

Jorvan looked back to Feviona.

She traced a short equation on the Blood’s ear, and he screamed. The ear shrivelled up, pieces flaking away like dry dander until the ear was gone.

Meleng gulped.

“Well?” Jorvan said.

The Blood looked up. Bloody tears covered his face, and he sobbed. “All right, all right. I’ll tell you.” He nodded vaguely in the direction Meleng had indicated. “It’s not that way. It’s...it’s…” He tried to twist his head round, but it clearly wouldn’t turn far enough. “The other side of the Hall of Knowledge. I can give you directions or even show you, but please don’t let her near me again. Please! Please! I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Jorvan nodded. “I will let you go, but if you run, she will kill you.”

“I won’t run, I swear. Please!”

A couple slow sweeps of Jorvan’s arm retracted the ice holding the Blood. He stumbled forward and fell face-first to the ground, where he lay sobbing.

“That was a bit harsh, wasn’t it?” Jorvan signed.

Feviona frowned. “They have our fomaze. I will tear this city apart to find her if I need to. Watch him.” She strode forward, took Meleng’s arm, and led him towards the Hall steps.

Jorvan called out something in Isyarian, but Feviona didn’t look back.

“You okay?” Meleng asked.

Feviona took a deep breath and nodded. “I’m just tired. I’ve used a lot of magical energy. Jorvanultumn knows what I’m like when this happens. I’ll apologise to him later. He’ll understand.” She moved behind him and looped her arms under his shoulders.

Meleng gulped and gripped her arms tightly. Then she spread her wings and leapt into the sky.

Meleng closed his eyes as cold air rushed past him. He wasn’t sure he would ever get used to this.

Luckily, it was a short trip, mere seconds before they landed and she let go of him.

He opened his eyes. They were at the top of the steps near Feena and some of the other wizards. They had made it up here before Angelida, who was still halfway up the steps.

“What’s happening?” Meleng asked.

“We got a message from the Bloods inside,” Feena said. “From their leader. He...uh…” She lowered her eyes.

Meleng bit his lower lip.

“He has the Princess. As well as Agernon and the young boy. He says he’ll kill the Princess and Agernon if we don’t surrender. He’s given us half an hour. It’s probably down to twenty minutes now.”

Meleng spun round to face Feviona. “They’re going to kill Sinitïa in twenty minutes.”

Feviona stood there a moment, breathing deeply. Then she moved behind Meleng again, and looped her arms under his shoulders.

“We can get to the underground passage,” Meleng told Feena. “Tell Pedrin we’ll come up from behind. You need to stall Plavin as long as you can.”

Feena nodded as Feviona lifted Meleng into the air.

Meleng kept his eyes open this time as they flew back to Jorvan. It was too short a trip to develop vertigo. Or perhaps he was just too determined. Either way, the trip didn’t bother him.

The Blood was siting on the ground beside Jorvan, shivering. Whether from fear or the cold, Meleng couldn’t be sure. Both probably.

“They’re going to kill Sinitïa in twenty minutes,” Meleng told Jorvan.

“I have the directions to the tunnel. It should not be hard to find. We can fly there quickly.” Jorvan looked to Feviona and began speaking in Isyarian.

Feviona shook her head. “No. One of us needs to stay on this side to provide support for the human wizards.”

Jorvan responded in Isyarian again. There was a protesting quality to his voice and he moved his arms about agitatedly.

“No. I’m the stronger, faster flyer. You know that. We don’t have time to argue. I will take Meleng. It only needs the two of us.”

Jorvan sighed and nodded. He said one last thing in Isyarian, then placed a hand on Meleng’s shoulder. “I will see you soon. Be careful.”

Meleng nodded and they touched foreheads briefly.

Jorvan approached Feviona.

“Be careful,” she said. “The piss-faced commander will choose a confined area. You will not be able to use your wings.”

Jorvan nodded.

“Now tell me the directions.”

Jorvan spoke for a short time in Isyarian. Then the two of them touched foreheads. After that, Jorvan spread his wings and flew to the Hall entrance.

“Ready?” Feviona asked.

Meleng gritted his teeth and nodded. Once more, Feviona looped her arms around him. She kissed the back of his neck, then leapt into the air.

Once again, Meleng kept his eyes open. They were soon over the top of the Hall of Knowledge, and then over the western stretches of Quorge, the buildings looking tiny beneath them. Dizziness and nausea did not cause him any problems. His heart still beat furiously though. Not fear of heights, but worry about whether Feviona had the directions correct. What if the Blood had lied? He’d given the information under duress, after all. It was not the most reliable method of interrogation. And even if the directions were correct, could they get there fast enough? Feviona was a fast flyer, yes, but she had her limits, and if the tunnel was long enough to pass out of the city—which seemed to be the case given the direction they were flying—her speed might not be enough.

Meleng took a deep breath and reminded himself that Jorvan, Pedrin, Angelida, and the other wizards at the Hall would do what they could to ensure Sinitïa’s safety and deal with Mitchal Plavin. By the time Meleng and Feviona got there, maybe Plavin would already be dead and Sinitïa safe.

He didn’t really believe that, but he tried.

After what seemed an eternity, Feviona slowed and began circling. They were over the fields southwest of the city. Feviona circled a couple times, before heading downwards towards a rocky outcropping. Meleng wished he could take out the magnifying lens, but he didn’t dare let go of Feviona.

They landed off to the side of the rocks, behind a hill of snow.

“There is a guard,” Feviona said. “He probably saw us, but don’t worry. I will take care of him.”

She clearly had the better vision, because Meleng had noticed no one while they were flying.

Feviona bent over and took several breaths. As she did, she stumbled a little.

Meleng moved so she could see him. “You okay?”

She stood up and nodded. “Just tired, as I said. I have used a lot of energy. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.” She patted his shoulder, then traced several equations over her chest, arms, legs, and wings.

Of course. She wasn’t just using magic to destroy Bloods’ armour or augment her sword. She was augmenting herself as well. No wonder she was low on energy.

Feviona drew her sword—his sword. Or maybe he should think of it as their sword. Yes, that was what he would do.

“Wait here.” Feviona spread her wings and flew off.

“Please be careful,” Meleng signed, but she was facing the wrong way to see him. He sighed. It would do no good if she killed herself saving Sinitïa. He wanted them both alive.

There was a cry from the rocks. A moment later, Feviona flew up into sight and waved him over. Then she lowered out of sight again.

Meleng hurried as quickly as he could over the mostly unbroken snow. After a short while, the ground gradually became a mix of dirt and rubble, as well as snow. Feviona stood in front of an opening in the outcropping, a dead Blood at her feet. The opening wasn’t quite a cave entrance, more like a mine entrance. It was rectangular in shape and there were wooden support beams. In front of the opening were broken pieces of timber and piles of rock.

It seemed a rather obvious entrance. It was surprising no one had found it before. It must have been closed off and hidden somehow. That would explain all the rubble.

“We need to be quick.” Feviona went through the entrance and Meleng followed. She motioned to a lit torch in a sconce on the wall. Meleng grabbed it and they headed forward.

The torch didn’t provide a lot of light, but it was enough to see a short distance ahead. The passage headed straight forward at a slight downward angle. It was cold and damp, and the partially frozen, otherwise soft ground crunched underfoot as they progressed. It was clear numerous people had passed this way recently, as even in the dim light, their bootprints were easily visible on the ground.

Feviona set a fast pace. Meleng was gasping for air before long, but he didn’t let that bother him. Feviona was right to move quickly. They didn’t have much time.

It seemed to take forever. Surely, their twenty minutes were long since up, but they kept moving. Meleng certainly wasn’t about to stop and Feviona definitely didn’t. Besides, he probably wasn’t keeping tracking of time accurately anyway. The passage continued to extend into darkness.

Eventually, a pinprick of light appeared somewhere ahead. Feviona raised a hand to indicate caution, but didn’t slow down. The light slowly resolved into distant, flickering torchlight, a hint of shadows in the smoke around it.

“Who goes there?” a voice called out. “Identify yourselves.”

Feviona looked back at Meleng and put a finger to her lips. Then she motioned for him to stop moving. He did, and she drew their sword and rushed forward.

“I said, identify your—sound the alarm! They’ve found us!”

There was a thud and a cry, then another thud. Then silence.

The torch rose from the wall and waved around. Meleng was fairly certain that was Feviona calling him forward. He certainly hoped it was her.

When he got close enough that the light of both torches illuminated more than just smoke and shadows, he saw that Feviona was standing by a large, stone door. A headless Blood lay slumped in the corner beside it. On the opposite side of the door, a Belone soldier—still with a head—lay still.

Feviona pointed at the Belone soldier. “That one’s still alive. I think.” She pointed at the Blood. “He’s dead.”

“No kidding.”

Feviona grinned.

It took Meleng a moment to locate the Blood’s head. It was several feet back down the passage.

Feviona banged on the door and drew his attention back to her.

“What if they hear you?” Meleng said.

Feviona rolled her eyes. “Anyone on the other side already heard that one die.”

“Good point.”

Feviona tapped on the door, but quietly this time. “Can you get it open.”

Meleng tried the handle, but while it turned, the door wouldn’t budge. He bent over it to look at it more closely. There was no obvious lock, so the door was probably barred from the other side. That wasn’t going to be easy to deal with. He stepped back. “Give me a moment.”

Feviona nodded, and stepped over to the wall near the unconscious Belone soldier. She placed her palms against the wall and leaned forward against it. Meleng hadn’t noticed before, but she was covered in sweat and breathing heavily. He wanted to ask her again if she was okay, but she wasn’t looking at him, so he turned his attention back to the door.

Maybe he could do the opposite of what he had tried to do to the doors at the Hall of Knowledge. There, he’d hoped to expand them to jam them in place. Perhaps he could contract this one. It wouldn’t have to be by much. Just to create enough space to slip something through that could be used to raise the bar out of place.

He ran through the equations in his head. Yes, it shouldn’t be too difficult.

He hoped.

He glanced back at Feviona. She was still leaning against the wall, still breathing heavily.

Meleng took a deep breath of his own, and started tracing the equations. He added a short delay so he could step back—just in case something went wrong.

Then he stepped back and a moment later, there was a loud crack and the door twisted. A piece broke off as it squeezed in on itself.

Feviona spun around, then looked at him with a smile.

By the door handle, there was now a sizeable gap between it and the frame. The gap narrowed the higher and lower it went, but it was enough. Meleng approached and held the torch near, so he could see through. As he’d suspected, there was a bar blocking the door on the other side.

He placed the torch in an empty sconce, then turned to Feviona. “Can I have our sword?”

She smiled, drew the sword, and held it out to him. He took it and carefully slid it into the gap under the bar. Then he raised it to push the bar away.

The bar didn’t move.

Not much, at any rate. He thought maybe it moved a little.

He tried again, and again. Even using both hands, he couldn’t lift it enough to make it fall away.

This was proving harder than he’d expected. He hadn’t considered the weight of the bar and the lack of leverage he had from this side.

Then Feviona pressed up against him from behind. She reached around and place her hands over his. Together, they tried to move the bar. This time, it rose.

But it still didn’t fall free.

They had freed it from its holder on one side of the door, but not the other.

Meleng lowered it a little, Feviona following his lead. He twisted his head round to try to look back at her. He wasn’t sure how to make sure she knew what he wanted to do. She was smiling at him though. He would just have to hope she had figured out his intentions.

With a single, fast thrust, they swung the sword upwards as high as they could reach together.

There was a clatter and crash on the other side of the door.

Feviona let go of his hands and stepped back. Meleng pulled the sword back in, then tried the door. It swung easily open. Turning around, he held the sword out to Feviona.

She took it. “Well done.”

Meleng smiled. He was glad he was being useful. He didn’t want Feviona to have to do everything. She probably could have handled the door herself, but in her exhausted state…

Feviona indicated the open door. “Let’s go. Time is running out.”

The door led to a storage room. Several shelves full of boxes had been pushed up against each other, presumably to clear the way to the door. That created an interesting question: how did the Bloods get in initially? If the shelves had been blocking the door—which was the only thing that made sense for why nobody had known about this door—even if it had not initially been barred, it would have been very difficult to move the door. The room was small. The shelves couldn’t move far. If they’d tipped over, there would not have been enough room to fall flat. Boxes would have fallen everywhere. Even if the shelves hadn’t tipped, it would have made a lot of noise.

Perhaps they had managed to push the door open just enough for someone to squeeze through and then move the shelves neatly like they were now. That would have still made noise, though.

Where in the Hall were they?

Feviona tapped him on the shoulder. “Stop…” something. Something with his head. Daydreaming maybe. Probably.

She was at the other door—the normal entrance to this room, not the hidden one they’d come through—and she leaned up to listen. “Do you know where this room is?”

Meleng shook his head. He didn’t know the layout of the Hall well enough. He had seen the schematics, but couldn’t remember the location of every storage room. Were there a couple storage rooms near the Council Chamber? The Bloods had started there.

Feviona opened the door.

As Meleng had suspected, it led to the hall outside the Council Chamber. There were still bodies on the floor. And blood. Lots of blood. And the stench…

It hadn’t been long enough for the bodies to be decomposing. The stench would be even worse then. But there was a smell to blood as well, and it didn’t sit well with Meleng’s stomach.

He held his breath as Feviona moved into the hall. She hurried over to the Council Chamber doors, which hung open partway. She looked in, then turned back around with a shake of her head. “Where do you suggest?”

Meleng shrugged. “We’ll never find them in time.”

“Yes, we will. Jorvanultumn will keep him delayed.”

“But we won’t surprise them. What good can we do?”

She gave him a comforting smile. “Surprise is not our task. Removing anyone guarding the shit-faced commander’s retreat is our task.” She continued past him to the doors at the end of the corridor.

She was right. He shouldn’t let despair get the better of him. They had to keep moving no matter what. They had to reach Sinitïa.

“He will have chosen tight quarters,” Feviona said. “Suggest some.”

Meleng wracked his brain. He hadn’t been here long. He didn’t know the place well enough. Though neither had Mitchal Plavin. Plavin had probably studied the schematics, even memorised them, but he couldn’t know how individual rooms had been furnished or even adjusted since construction. Where would he choose?

There was one likely location, and Meleng sighed.

“The library.”

Feviona nodded. “Lead.”

At least it was a location Meleng knew the way to. He’d been there last time he’d been in Quorge, and a couple times this visit, though never long enough to actively look through the stacks.

He hurried up the stairs, Feviona close behind. There were two ways there. Which was the best way to go? The closest presumably, though that would not guarantee they came up behind the Bloods. Though surely Jorvan and the others had both ways covered. Unless, of course, Plavin had forced them to stay on one side with threats to Sinitïa or Agernon.

Damn it, he just had to choose. His tendency towards indecision would just get Sinitïa killed. It was long past time he learned to make decisions.

He would take the longer route. It wasn’t much longer and was the more likely back route. If Jorvan and the others were at only one side, they would be by the main entrance.

He hurried up one flight of stairs, then led Feviona across the level of study chambers beneath the library. Then they ascended the stairs at the other side.

There was no guard on the door—at least not on this side. Meleng nodded to Feviona, who motioned for him to step aside and approached the door. She glanced back at him. “Be ready.” Then she opened the door.

There was a Blood on the other side, helmet off, but sword drawn and ready. He started to swing, but Feviona ducked under his arm, and spun round behind him. Their sword cut easily through the boy’s armour and his back. He crashed to the floor just in front of Meleng, who had to blink several times from the spray of blood. He wiped his face.

“Sounds like we have visitors,” a voice called from inside.

Feviona was already moving forward.

Meleng stepped over the body and into the library.

“Tell your assassin,” the voice called out, “that if another of my men dies, so does the Princess. There will be no hesitation.”

Jorvan’s voice, speaking Isyarian, came a moment later.

Feviona was already out of sight amongst the stacks somewhere, so Meleng just went in the direction the voices were coming from. It wouldn’t be hard to find everyone. The library was big, but it wasn’t that big. It had a large collection of books—the largest Meleng had seen apart from Scovese—but they were packed tightly into narrow aisles.

“Well?” Plavin said. “Will it acknowledge?”

“I am sure she heard me,” Jorvan said. “But she is mute and cannot reply.”

Plavin laughed. “Mute, is it? Well, well. Ah, there it is.”

“Please do no refer to her as it,” Jorvan said.

“Feviona!”

Sinitïa’s voice.

Meleng hurried up.

He turned a corner and saw Feviona up ahead at the end of the aisle. He rushed up to her.

The aisle opened up into the foyer at the library’s main entrance. Jorvan, Pedrin, and Angelida stood just inside the open doors. Several other wizards peered from the other side of the doors.

Where was Sinitïa? That had been her voice, but Meleng couldn’t get a good view because of Feviona’s wings. Even folded, they took up most of the width of the aisle, and even though she was shorter than him, her wings matched his height. Meleng squeezed beside her to get a better view.

There was Sinitïa. She was standing in the left corner of the room, Corvinian beside her, a pale blue nimbus around him. A Blood and a Belone soldier guarded them.

The three tables that were usually spread out in this area had been upended and placed together as a sort of barrier around that corner of the room. Mitchal Plavin stood just behind the barrier.

Meleng couldn’t see Agernon, but if he was seated near the tables, he might not be visible.

“Melly!”

Meleng raised a hand and gave her a little wave.

Mitchal Plavin laughed and somehow sneered at the same time. “Who do we have here? Come forward, boy.”

Meleng swallowed. “Um…”

“I won’t ask twice.”

Meleng glanced at Feviona, who nodded. He stepped in front of her.

“Closer.”

He moved up to within a step or two of the table barricade.

Plavin looked him up and down. “I take it you’re the Eloorin who abducted Princess Sinitïa.” He glanced back at Sinitïa. “Though going by her Highness’s reaction to your appearance, I would guess you didn’t abduct her, did you? She ran off with you.”

“Please don’t hurt her,” Meleng said.

Plavin chuckled. “I can understand why the Royal Family said you’d abducted her. They would never recover from the disgrace of the truth.” He spat at Meleng.

Meleng recoiled, but the spittle didn’t hit him.

“Pathetic.” Plavin turned away from Meleng and faced Sinitïa. “You disgust me Princess. To defile your royal blood with the seed of an Eloorin. Death will be a mercy for you.”

“Enough!” Jorvan said. “You have lost. You are outnumbered. Kill anyone and you will die.”

Plavin turned round. “Not without taking several of you with me. Especially your beloved Princess. However, I will make a new offer: a duel.”

Jorvan’s eyes narrowed. “A duel?”

Plavin gave a very slight nod. “A duel. To the death. Between me and one of your number. If I win, I and my remaining men leave here unaccosted. The Princess will be returned to you. If I lose...well, you will have what you want. The Princess will still be returned to you.”

“Let me get this straight,” Angelida said. “We let you go in return for you killing one of us. Why would we do that?”

Plavin’s dull lips twitched. “Because it is a duel. An honourable way of settling disputes. And we will leave you alone afterwards. You have my word.”

Angelida spat. “It’s barbaric.”

Plavin’s lips twisted into a sneer. “You only think that because you are an uncivilised Eloorin. You have no concept of honour. But if you wish to have a brawl where several of you will die along with the Princess, then so be it.”

Jorvan placed a hand on Angelida’s shoulder. “It is okay.”

She looked at him quizzically.

Jorvan looked to Plavin. “I will duel you.”

Plavin smirked. “The choice in the end is yours, but if I might make a request. I would like to duel that.” He pointed to Feviona.

“Her,” Jorvan snarled.

Plavin smirked again. “Tell her of my request. If she turns it down, then you and I will duel.”

Jorvan scowled and stared at Plavin for several moments. Then he looked to Feviona and spoke in Isyarian. When he was done, Feviona gave a slow nod.

Jorvan frowned and turned back to Plavin. “She agrees.”

Plavin smiled, his scars stretching grotesquely. “Excellent. Standard duelling rules. We may use any weapons or items in our possession or near at hand. We may use our own skills, but we may not accept aid from others. All others will not interfere.”

Angelida scoffed loudly.

“Those are the rules agreed to,” Plavin said. “Yes?”

Jorvan translated and Feviona again gave a slow nod.

“Yes, she agrees,” Jorvan said.

“Excellent. Then everyone else stand back.”

Feviona motioned Meleng aside, and he moved along the ends of the aisles to the left until he reached the wall. He had a better view of Sinitïa and Corvinian from here, and he smiled at them. Agernon was there, too, slumped against the wall right behind one of the upended tables. There was blood on his forehead. Meleng grimaced, unable to tell if he was alive or dead.

There wasn’t time to worry about that right now, though. Plavin had moved out into what little open space there was after picking up a shield from behind the barricade. Feviona had not moved.

“Ready?” Plavin said.

Feviona tilted her head slightly. “I will carve out your innards and force-feed you your own shit before you die. Your wingless corpse will turn the floor red.”

“Translate the hand movements,” Plavin said.

“She says…” Jorvan took a deep breath. “She says prepare to die.”

Meleng wished Plavin knew exactly what she’d said. However, he had to admit, he probably would have translated her words the same way Jorvan had.

Plavin smirked. “I have killed two Isyar before. I look forward to a third.” He placed his helmet on his head and raised his sword in front of his chest and face in a salute.

Jorvan translated his words and Feviona rolled her eyes. She raised her sword to mimic his salute.

Jorvan, Pedrin, and Angelida backed out of the room, though they remained just outside with the doors still open. Angelida was scowling, her lips twitching. Pedrin’s face showed little emotion. Jorvan just looked worried.

There was silence for a moment, and everyone was still.

“Begin,” Jorvan said while also signing it.

Both combatants lowered their swords and stood there.

Meleng bit his lower lip. The room was silent.

And cold.

Weird that he would notice that now.

Mitchal Plavin lunged forward, and Feviona leapt to the side. Her free hand ran along the flat of her sword. She swung, but met only air. Plavin was surprisingly quick for someone in such heavy armour. He lunged again, but Feviona jumped backwards, her wings spreading slightly.

“No room in here for that, I’m afraid.” Plavin’s voice was muffled by his helmet, but there was a definite hint of amusement in it.

Feviona backed against one of the upturned tables. She traced an equation over her chest as Plavin’s sword came down on her shoulder. It rebounded and Plavin stumbled. There was only a slight tear in Feviona’s uniform and a small trickle of blood where the sword had hit.

Feviona leapt forward, her sword slamming into Plavin’s shield, which shattered. He stumbled back again. Feviona pushed forward, but once more, Plavin sidestepped.

It went on like that for what seemed an eternity. Feviona would push forward. Then Plavin would push back the other way. They circled one another. They lunged. Feviona rolled away. Plavin stepped aside. Only occasionally did either land a blow on the other. When Plavin did, it only left a small cut—though after a while, it became apparent, each blow he landed was causing a little more damage. Feviona’s blows, on the other hand, had managed to destroy Plavin’s vambrace on his sword arm, a couple small armour pieces by his shoulder that Meleng didn’t know the names of, and finally his cuirass. However, he wore a chain hauberk underneath that.

Both combatants were dripping with sweat, though Plavin showed no other signs of tiring. Feviona on the other hand… Meleng grimaced as she stumbled against one of the stacks, her wings pressing against it. Her movements were becoming more and more uncertain, and Plavin was successfully interfering with her attempts to trace equations on herself or sword. She just wasn’t moving as fast as Meleng had seen her do earlier.

Meleng looked around at the others. Jorvan was fidgeting with his hands, and his wings were twitching. Beside him, Angelida stared with narrowed eyes. Behind the barricade, the guards were fully engrossed in watching the fight. They were not paying much attention to their prisoners.

Would it be possible to take out the guards before they could react? Meleng was sure Jorvan and Angelida working together—perhaps with Pedrin as well—could do it. Of course, that would be breaking the rules of the duel. But they were Plavin’s rules. Rules he had insisted on and they had agreed to for some reason. Angelida was right. There was no point to this duel.

But how did he convince them of that? He wasn’t standing with them, and calling out to them would just be heard, and…

Of course! The answer was so obvious. He just needed Jorvan to be looking in his direction.

Feviona crashed against the upturned table beside Meleng. Meleng stepped back into the aisle as she rolled away from another attack from Plavin. The Blood commander’s sword carved a chunk out of the table and sent a crack through it.

With the battle so close to Meleng, Jorvan would be looking this way. He just needed to get Jorvan’s attention without also getting Plavin’s.

Plavin pulled his sword free of the table and turned around to follow Feviona, who had dashed around to the other side of him. His back was now to Meleng.

Meleng signed as quickly as he could, and hoped his lack of mastery wouldn’t cause any comprehension problems. “Take out the guards. They’re distracted. Then gang up on the commander.”

“But the rules,” Jorvan said.

“Forget the rules! The old woman—” he had no idea how else to refer to Angelida— “is right. He does not deserve an honourable fight.”

Jorvan nodded and leaned over to whisper to Angelida.

Plavin’s hauberk unravelled and he stumbled backwards, almost colliding with Meleng. Feviona pushed forward, but Plavin swung out, catching her in her side. She fell to the floor, a wide gash just below her ribs spilling blood.

There was a very short cry followed by a thud. Meleng looked over. The Blood guarding Sinitïa now lay on the floor, a metal spike lodged through his head. The other guard had been wrapped in the stone of the wall, only his hands, boots, and eyes visible.

“What?” Plavin turned his head just as he was about to bring his sword down on Feviona. She rolled aside during his brief hesitation.

Angelida punched forward and another steel spike shot out. It went right through Plavin’s arm where his missing vambrace should have been. With a cry, he dropped his sword. He stumbled back, then spun round and grabbed Meleng, wrapping his good arm around Meleng’s neck.

“You dishonourable cunt!” Plavin increased the pressure on Meleng’s neck as he reached with the same arm and drew a dagger. “Another move and he dies!”

Meleng gasped for air, only able to draw the smallest of breaths.

“Melly!” Small streams of colour began dripping from Sinitïa’s eyes and fingers.

Angelida clenched her fists together, but held back on any more attacks.

“Let him go,” Jorvan said. “You will not get far.”

“We had an agreement!”

“An agreement we’re breaking,” Angelida said. “Call us uncivilised if you wish. I don’t care.”

Feviona stood up, clutching her side. The bleeding had stopped, though, and the wound looked smaller than it had been.

“I’m going to back away, and leave through the underground tunnel. Kill me if you wish, but you had better be sure you can do it before I kill this one.” Plavin held the dagger under Meleng’s chin.

As Plavin stepped backwards down the aisle, Meleng moved his hand up. The pressure had decreased a little and he could breathe a bit easier. He could think a bit better too. He moved his hand against Plavin’s chest, but using no pressure, so Plavin wouldn’t feel it through his padded shirt. There wasn’t time to work out precise equations, and Meleng reminded himself that he needed to stop worrying about such precision. He just needed something that would go through the padding and affect the flesh and bone underneath as well. Close was all that mattered.

He traced the equation.

Plavin’s side burst open. A shattered rib flew out and lodged itself between a couple of tomes.

Plavin cried out, let go of Meleng, and crashed into the stacks on his other side.

Meleng stumbled free, and looked up.

Feviona traced an equation along her sword—their sword—and threw it. It ran right through Plavin’s chest and protruded out the other side. Plavin’s body crashed to the floor and lay still.

Meleng slid to the floor as well, breathing rapidly. He rubbed his neck with blood-slick fingers.

“Melly!” Sinitïa pushed one of the tables out of the way and ran towards him. She no longer had colours dripping from her.

Meleng grabbed a shelf to help pull himself to his feet. He slipped a little in the pool of blood at his feet. Gods, he must be getting blood all over the books.

But that didn’t really matter right now.

He threw his arms around her. “Oh gods, Sini, I was so worried.” He hugged her tight and she hugged him back. He must be getting blood all over her too—he was covered in Plavin’s after all—but she didn’t seem to mind, so that didn’t matter either. All that mattered was she was safe.

Feviona wobbled over to them. “My champion.”

Sinitïa let go of Meleng. “Our champion.”

Feviona nodded, swaying back and forth as she did.

“Are you all right?” Meleng asked. “You took a lot of hits.”

Feviona nodded again, still swaying. “I have never been better, thanks to my champion. I love you so much. And you.” She pointed to Sinitïa, then took Sinitïa’s arm, leaned up on her tiptoes, and kissed her on the lips.

Sinitïa’s eyes widened in surprise, but after a moment, she leaned back into the kiss. When they parted, Sinitïa put a hand to her mouth, blushing.

Feviona then kissed Meleng. He should have seen it coming, but she still took him unaware.

She let go a moment later. “I love you both so much.”

Meleng hesitated a moment, but then signed back, “I love you too.”

“Me too,” Sinitïa said.

Jorvan came up to them. “She gets a little...uh...drunk when she has used most of her energy and there is no excitement to focus her.”

“It’s okay,” Sinitïa said. “It was actually kind of nice.”

Jorvan put an arm around Feviona. “I will take her where she can rest. It has been a very long day. Thank you, Meleng. For everything. Get some rest, too. We will talk later.”

Feviona leaned her head on Jorvan’s shoulder as he led her back to the library’s entrance, where Pedrin and Angelida were helping Agernon to his feet.

Meleng smiled and looked back at Sinitïa. She was covered in blood, too. There were splotches in her hair, and it dripped over her ears and down her cheeks. Her gown was soaked in it. She couldn’t have gotten all that from him, could she? He was covered in Plavin’s blood, but…

The Blood Angelida had killed. There would have been spray from that, and he had been standing right beside Sinitïa.

She was still radiant though.

He leaned against her and held her tight again.

“Oof, you’re heavy.”

“Oh, sorry.” He hadn’t intended to place all his weight on her. He just sort of had.

Gods, he was tired. It hadn’t been apparent until now, but he’d been up all night. He’d been running around, doing so much.

Sinitïa pulled him up straighter. “Jorvan’s right. You need to rest.”

“Shouldn’t we...I don’t know...clean up or something?”

Sinitïa looked around. “Probably. But later.”

“But the blood on all the books.”

Sinitïa shrugged. “I honestly don’t know what to do about that. I guess you can’t wash books, can you? I’m sure Pedrin will know what to do. You should rest.”

“I love you,” he said.

She kissed him. “I love you too. Now, come on!”

He nodded, and arm-in-arm, they headed out of the library.