Ayden heard the flute play from around the corner in an alleyway.

  “Ayden?” asked Vellis. “Are you not excited? Or are you nervous?”

  “What?” asked Ayden, ripping his attention free from the flute and directing it back to Vellis. Beautiful Vellis who he’d been with for almost a year now. He’d been at Silterra for almost a year and in it he’d turned into an adept mage in his own right. He and several others like Vellis and Tarmon represented the best of their year.

  Though, Ayden’s marks told a different tale. He excelled at his practicals, and in the end, Ayden knew that’s what counted if he wanted to be as powerful as Xavos wanted him to be.

  “Meeting my mother,” said Vellis. “Are you not scared?”

  “No,” said Ayden with a laugh.

  The flute played again and he turned, frowning.

  “Are you okay? You seem distracted.”

  Ayden shook his head. “I’m just tired I think. Long week with all these exams.”

  Vellis gave him a bemused smile. “You can admit it if you're scared. My mother is not easy to speak to, and I’m her daughter saying this.”

  “No,” said Ayden, defiantly. “I’m not scared.”

  “Okay, okay!” she laughed, raising her hands. “Of course not.” She dusted off his shoulder and gave him an appraising look. “Before you arrive, just… tidy up.”

  “What?” asked Ayden, looking down at his restitched coat. It was the same make as what Janari had given him years ago, but restitched with finer materials. He had to pay a large sum for it, and refused Vellis’s help. He had to stay up far too many nights doing odd jobs for the stablemaster raking hay and manure. The stablemaster claimed to love Ayden for his work ethic, but Ayden nearly passed out after the streak. He could never sustain this as a primary stream of income.

  She mussed his hair to reset it and then raked her fingers through them to form bangs. She then brought out a brush and started forming some kind of style. He let her only because he liked the attention to his scalp. It felt good and his eyes started to droop. Perhaps he hadn’t caught up on sleep as much as he thought he had.

  She snapped her fingers under her nose to wake him up and stepped back. “Wonderful. You almost look civilized.”

  Ayden scowled at her as she handed him a mirror. “Oh, my hair looks shorter. Did you cut it?”

  “No, I brushed it. That’s what happens when you take care of yourself.” Taking her mirror back, she kissed him for a long while before parting and wishing him a goodnight.

  When she left, Ayden heard the flute once again. He turned and peered down an alley. A pale shaft of moon light bled through the surrounding buildings and landed on a hooded figure on a crate. The slim frame looked like it belonged to a woman. A flute in her hand she continued to play a wistful tune that started to enamor Ayden.

  “Miss?” he asked. “It’s late and you’re here alone.” He needed to work on his wording. “Not that I’m here because of that.” He grimaced and cursed. “Miss, why are you playing the flute so late in an alley? You’re good enough for the tavern.” Even as good for the high halls, but what did Ayden know of courtly music standards?

  She stopped playing and her cowled head looked up at him. From under the shade he spotted curls of crimson hair cascade down. She removed her hood to reveal curious green eyes and a warm smile.

  “Thank you!” she beamed, in a thick Vrodian or Ingastian accent.

  Ayden didn’t know where specifically, but definitely north. Far north.

  “Welcome,” said Ayden, looking around. “But I’m still curious. Why are you here?”

  She placed the flute back in her pack and clasped her hands, standing to face him. “I’m here to offer you a deal, Ayden.”

  ****

  Cara channeled Green, healing Oscall’s burn wound. He remained stone faced as the pain coursed through him, but typical Silterran masculinity forced him to not utter a single word. She purposefully channeled Green more painfully just to see if he would squeak.

  She supposed despite the foolish attitude that showing something hurt diminished your reputation, it was a little impressive her cousin could take a beating like no one else.

  “Thank you, cousin,” he said.

  “The attacks are getting worse,” said Cara.

  “Yes,” said Oscall. “Something’s happening down south.”

  “What?”

  “Some war.”

  Cara rolled her eyes. “A war is nothing new.”

  “Not the Akashtrans, Cara,” said Oscall. “Further south.”

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “The tyrants?” asked Cara.

  Oscall nodded.

  “Are they invading?” The idea was foolish. Not only did they have any incentive to, they simply didn’t have the infrastructure to support a full invasion. Unless, they united. A shudder passed through her.

  “It’s not an invasion,” said Oscall. “But it is something related to them. I’ve heard only rumors from the ones we saved.”

  “Not Silterrans?”

  “They came from the south and were staying at the town we saved. They mentioned a new warlord who they went south to serve under to build up some fame.”

  “What’s a new warlord have to do with these rogue mages?” asked Cara. “Or the monsters?”

  “They believe the warlord started a chain reaction. Some horde’s raised up in arms and have been attacking the tyrants in open rebellion. Every city they sack adds to their numbers.”

  “Again, I ask…”

  “Cara, these rogue mages had an operation there completely unrelated to the revolts. But the revolts have destroyed their operation.”

  “An operation spanning across Silterra and the desert?” asked Cara. “Do you know what this implies?”

  “Dire Mages,” said Oscall. “They’re coming back and are organizing.”

  “We have to warn mother,” said Cara, standing to leave the infirmary.

  “Wait, Cara,” said Oscall. “We don’t know for sure.”

  “I’d rather prepare and be wrong, Oscall,” snapped Cara.

  “Cara, it is going to look unpleasant if you march into her meeting right now and start spreading panic.”

  Cara gave a frustrated growl. “I hate this. At every turn I’m bogged by the bastards in the high halls.”

  “You’re in the high halls.”

  Her eyes blazed with silver fire, but she blinked to extinguish them. “Sorry…” She’d been tried lately. More irritable. What with the constant stream of financial documents, academic review papers, peer reviews, and healing the constant array of soldiers and Mage Blades returning from a brutal fight, Cara rarely got a chance to rest her eyes. If not for her makeup and Green channeling to ward off severe sleep deprivation, she’d look like an undead right now.

  “I understand the tension. Just wait a few hours till she’s done. Besides, we can discuss what you’ll say. What proof do we actually have?”

  “The disrupted mages down there came here. That’s why they’re focusing so hard on us.”

  “But it could be a completely unrelated renegade band of mages, Cara. None of us have been hit by Dire Magic. No undead.” He paused and sighed. “Okay there was one sighting in Mahar over two years ago, but those things pop up here and there. It’s normal. Not organized.”

  “The mages you fought,” said Cara. “Did they speak Akashtran? Or Maharian?”

  Maharian was the dominant language of the mainlands, including Silterra. Karthians spoke it too, but called it Karthian despite its origin being clearly rooted in the east.

  “They spoke Maharian with a heavy southern accent.” He held his head in his hands. “Heavy.” He emphasized that word and realized the implications that they came from the south end of the desert. While the Akashtrans knew their own tongue due to a heavy pride in their roots, the other folk deeper in the south also spoke an accented version of Maharian. Most of the rulers there hailed from the north. “I could be misremembering to fit the narrative. Afterall, how well can you understand someone’s accent in a battle to the death?”

  “Any survivors? What about the bodies.”

  Oscall grimaced. “Darker skin. Typical of people from the desert.” He stood up and pointed at her. “And Mahar! Mahar also has darker skin tones, typically.”

  “How dark were they, Oscall?”

  “Much darker than Mahar.” He groaned. “Damn it, Cara. I really don’t want them to be Dire Mages.”

  “You are correct,” she said. “They still could be another coalition of rogue mages. We don’t know their motives, so it’s hard to say.”

  “So far it’s just been brainless attacks on our city or other settlements.”

  “What did the attacks look like this time?” she asked.

  “Explosion,” said Oscall. “They started killing people. Then…” His eyes widened. “The ground crumbled.”

  “Just like the attack almost a year ago. And the one four months ago up north by the border.”

  “Have they all been like this?”

  “No,” she said. “There have been over ten attacks of note. Our city, the town you came from, and the border town were the only ones.”

  “There’s no pattern, then,” said Oscall.

  “No pattern of craters, and no patterns in the places that had the craters.”

  Oscall started to pace. “I wonder if they’re trying to throw us off their trial.”

  “I wonder what’s special about those places… I will investigate the attack in the city that happened a year ago.”

  “I’ll send teams out to scout the other two,” said Oscall.

  “We’ll need to have teams scout around the wilds as well, Oscall. We don’t know if it’s just settlements. There could be craters popping up around our nation and we only know the ones where there’s people settled.”

  “I assume this extends out to No Man’s Land?”

  Cara sighed and nodded. No Man’s Land was the newly sectioned off land signed off by Mahar and Silterra. It was designated for the Ugviri people. An entirely different species Cara would love to speak to and learn about it if it weren’t for more pressing matters at home. Despite their lengthy presence on their world, little was known about them. “Yes, there as well. Take a seal so you’re not given any hostility.”

  “Right,” muttered Oscall. “I’ll lead the team around there.”

  She respected her cousin for always taking the most deadly missions. Out of the borders of their nation, and amongst a different species who have no love for humans served as a perfect playground for disaster. It’s what made him so respected amongst the soldiers.

  “Thank you,” said Cara.

  “You’re the one who has to enter the sewers. The amount of complaints I heard from the builders trying to repair the damages. All that filth spilled out.”

  Cara winced as she realized she wouldn’t have minded if their destinations switched. No, she had to stay here. “Great,” she muttered.

  “Have fun, dear cousin.”

  She scoffed and crossed her arms, a disturbed face becoming a permanent fixture for the rest the night as she imagined what Galeria would say if she saw a noble dripping with sewage muck. She wouldn’t hear the end of it.

  On cue, Oscall brought up politics. “You might want to wear a disguise if you do venture down there.”

  Cara sighed. “I know…”