Kaladhen heard the intention of death. It chimed in his mind like the toll of a bell, the kind the church would ring at a funeral–the kind he had heard too many times. It came from behind him, and he moved instinctively, leaping to his left. He pivoted as he slid, and saw the Wyvern Guard’s eyes widen as his halberd missed. Then he saw a blade burst out from the soldier’s belly and the man’s eyes managed to widen even further in shock as the light faded from him. One more voice sank away in the churning ocean of Kaladhen’s mind.

  “Try not to get spitted before the night is out!” Wendellhaid sounded jovial as he pushed the corpse from his blade and wiped the blood on the dead man’s cuirass. He was smiling, despite their situation, and it made it difficult to keep his own scowl. Unlike Kaladhen, Wendellhaid wore heavy armor fit for a knight, a nasturtium flower painted on the front of his uniform.

  “I do not intend–” Kaladhen leapt forward and tackled Wendellhaid. Normally, that would be like a child leaping into a brick wall with their difference in stature, but Wendellhaid gave way and they both hit the ground, though Wendellhaid wrapped him in a grip of iron. Above, Kaladhen heard the bolt whizz past. Released from his friend’s grip, he rolled and looked up. Twenty feet above them, standing atop a wall and mostly hidden behind a parapet with a sniper’s hole dug into the stone, Kaladhen saw a shifting figure drawing another arrow. He shut his eyes.

  That was a dangerous thing to do in the middle of battle–and would normally make one an idiot or dead, but Kaladhen knew he had the best three pairs of eyes watching him in the entire world. In the darkness, he tuned out all tactile senses, and was left only with his mind. And for Kaladhen, his mind was a weapon more deadly than any blade, arrow, or spear. He was a Sophomancer, and the mind was his plaything. No two Sophomancer’s sensed things the same way. His old mentor had described minds as the leaves on a tree. Each person was connected by branches and each mind shifted with the weight of the world as if by wind. Kaladhen, though, saw a river. Each mind was a stone, constantly battered by the forward momentum of time, and Kaladhen was a salmon swimming upstream. Any one mind was hard to reach and each time he accessed his power, it was a battle to swim, but he was well practiced.

  The mind he sought was easy to find–people trying to kill you had a tendency to stand out. The archer’s stone jutted from the water and looked gray and covered in white stains. Kaladhen swam to it and found himself leaping upon it. Some minds would resist his influence. The rich, the powerful, and the paranoid would train against Sophomancy, and the strong willed naturally would be harder to toy with. This mind gave way without resistance.

  Kaladhen did a second dangerous thing. He allowed himself to feel. Memories of friends buried, mistakes made, opportunities lost, hurtful words said, people killed, and the friend he had failed. The dam which buried those things deep in his psyche broke and flooded the river. But he was used to weathering this storm, and the poor archer was not. He forced his eyes open, and found a hand on his shoulder, a light touch of warmth anathema to the cold of the night and the sad memories.

  “Are you good?” Arrietty asked, her eyes worried. Kaladhen looked around. More time had passed than he had thought–maybe ten seconds. That was worrisome, he thought himself better at that.

  “I have to be,” he said, and found himself standing up. Glancing back, he no longer saw the archer up in the arrow-slit. He would have collapsed into throes of terror. Kaladhen’s exact memories would not have transferred, but the feelings would have and whatever image they conjured in the man’s mind would be far worse for not expecting them like Kaladhen had. Wendellhaid was ahead, already charged back into battle. He fought beside their soldiers, each one bearing the Four Flowers tied in a knot of gold, a magnolia in the center.

  Arrietty nodded. “You shouldn’t have gotten this close to the action.”

  “Nor should you,” Kaladhen said.

  He saw color rise in her tan cheeks. “I will fight with my troops, not sit in some far off tower observing things from a distance like Centurion or Vitruvius. I will bleed and battle by their sides.”

  Kaladhen waved a hand, “I know I know, I was just trying to urge caution. Besides, I knew you were there. I was safe with you three.”

  He felt her punch his shoulder–it hurt, “You are always safe with me around.” Arrietty turned to look back at the battlefield. Despite Kaladhen’s words, it would be hard for someone to reach Arrietty where they were. Her advanced guard had flanked out in front of them, with four of them dedicated archers surveilling potential danger points and the rest ready to leap in front of her to take an arrow.

  She no longer looked like the girl Kaladhen had met so many years ago. She was a woman, and had grown into a leader to respect. She stood watching the battle, hands clasped behind her back, and diligently watching for openings. Her normally long black hair was tied back and hidden behind the helmet she wore. Kaladhen wished she would opt for a heavier suit of mail than the leather gambeson she wore, but she always preferred more maneuverability than what plate would allow. Besides, she was a Totimancer, the magic of the whole, and she specialized in healing. Any wound which did not kill her outright, she would likely survive so long as she had the energy to recover. She could afford a little more risk than most. Besides, she wore the look well, and sometimes the persona one had, especially a leader, afforded much more than a little armor. A magnolia was painted on the front of her armor, and the five flowers were painted on the back.

  Kaladhen’s own uniform had a clematis on the front. He could still remember the day they chose the design. He smiled thinking of it, though it had a worn look of it, as it drew memories of the fifth flower. He fought back a few of the tears that welled up in his blue eyes. Now was not the time for day dreaming

  “Do you see that?” Arrietty said, pointing. Kaladhen had been about to open his mouth to speak as he saw the same thing. A break in the enemy line. They clashed at the base of a large staircase in the middle of a city plaza. Vitruvius’ forces had erected a wooden barricade a few meters in front of the stairs. It was crucial they took those stairs and soon. Time was running out. Kaladhen quickly glanced upward at their destination: The Dragon’s Den, where Dragon Vitruvius ruled at the heart of the Artaghan Empire. The enemy had left a large hole in their barricade open and without support.

  “I see it,” he replied. Then, he closed his eyes again. This time, they were shut for just a moment, so rote was the motion. He touched the minds of five people: Wendellhaid, and the four officers which led their troops. No soldiers at this location - he sent an image of the wall - Edward and Lagrass, focus your attention on breaking through. Wendellhaid support the attack as needed. Devon and Ned hold position.

  He and Arrietty watched as in a few moments, the tide of the battle turned from a slow brawl of their forces against an unlucky group of enemy soldiers caught out trying to return to safety, to a rout of the enemy barricade broken. Kaladhen saw Wendellhaid shouting orders and heard his whooping laugh as they crashed into the Wyvern Guard who hastily rushed to try and hold the stairs behind the barricade. But, they clearly lacked the numbers to hold the position, and Kaladhen saw the chaotic retreat begin.

  “YES!” Arrietty said as she jumped up and down. One of her guards jogged towards her, holding a tall banner. She took it from him and began to wave it aloft. Cheers began to echo from their men. They had taken the third step and gained access to the fourth. After that, they had only the final stairs and the Dragon’s Den itself.

  The moon Kaladhen saw, fell behind the palace now. He almost felt as if he could hear the ticking of the clock. Behind him, Kaladhen heard heavy boots heralding another arrival, though the mind of the man was familiar enough he had known of his approach several seconds before the footsteps were audible. He turned to greet the last of the Five Flowers.

  Judge Thespious was not a man most people would care to look at. He unnerved people. He had been born with a severe condition which left his face wrong, lopsided. His left eye was entirely white, and his other eye always seemed to want to fall downwards. It also had been left heavily scarred during his youth. The orc of Thespious had earned a cold reputation amongst his peers. He had been rejected for his looks, for his refusal to bend to others. The Five Flowers, though, had become his home, and he wore a chamomile. Most people feared his face for the injury or disfigurement. It was the kind of thing which reflected the worst of humanity, and always left one wondering if they could end up like that. That was not a thing which scared Kaladhen. He was scared of Judge’s eyes. They had the intensity of a flash flood, and the color of an old tombstone.

  But, when those eyes glanced at Kaladhen and Arrietty they lit up with a spark of joy. He stretched his arms wide, and opened his mouth–showing off his collection of missing teeth–as he stared at the banner. “A battle well fought! We have won one hell and soon the time comes to enjoy another altogether.”

  He walked over and stood beside the two. Arrietty ran up to him, but stopped herself from hugging him. Judge never did like physical touch. He did briefly pat Arrietty on the shoulder with his gloved hand, and gave a curt nod to Kaladhen. “Baudouin has conquered the Spine up to the third step last I heard. I believe he has the highest of confidences that soon they will take it all the way to the fourth.” His voice was a rasp, like scraping food off a pan.

  “Excellent,” Arrietty said, turning to look in the direction of the Spine.

  “We need to gather and prepare for our final push. Time is running out,” Judge said, glancing at Kaladhen. The glimmer in his eyes had faded and it was back to their usual severity. Kaladhen understood the look though. They were fighting on borrowed time. If they did not win soon, all would be lost.

  “I agree,” Kaladhen said. “I can warn the others. Is the base secured?”

  “Baudouin has a contingent of soldiers holding the area.”

  “And your contact…did you meet with them?” Arrietty asked, though she sounded unhappy. Kaladhen understood why, but felt a pang of frustration. Now would not be the time for an argument. If they wanted to take the city in time, they had to take risks.

  “Yes, our plan can move forth,” Judge replied, and with a tone that did not admit rapprochement.

  Arrietty said nothing, but Kaladhen could hear the storm brewing in her mind. He did not like reading other people’s thoughts, especially his friends. It felt invasive. He would use his powers when needed, but only as necessary. He shivered, recalling the day he received his Gift. Such a happy word for a thing so conflicted. Eyes closing, he felt around the river, and connected to the people they needed. It took more time than he would like. The further away a person, the harder it was to connect, and with enough distance it would be impossible. He strained his abilities to reach each of them, and was only able to do so due to how familiar with them he was. The time has come for the final push. Meet at the tent.

  “You done?” Judge asked.

  “I’ve sent the message. Sometimes I wish our Senders would risk their men in battles.”

  “You know they won’t,” Judge said.

  “It would be nice,” Arrietty agreed..

  Judge grunted, which meant he didn’t want to talk more. Kaladhen had learned the language of his grunts long ago. They began to jog away from the battle. They had coordinated it this far, the time had come to rely on their captains and officers to run the fight. They had to win.

  *

  They soon reached the tent, spread out across a large pavilion on the second step. It was pushed up against a wall, and would be a difficult target for catapults or ballista to reach. Soldiers atop gryphons flew in a circle around, scouting for danger. Kaladhen wished they had them in number for actual use in battle, but gryphons were rare and did not tend to bond with more than a rider or two. He was just glad Vitruvius had even less than they. Inside the tent, Kaladhen found all the tables he had organized and made ready the day before had been pushed aside. The center of the room had been taken up with stretchers which looked recently used. He glared at Arrietty.

  She gave a sheepish smile. “I made sure none of your stuff was messed with. I couldn’t just sit around yesterday while you and Baudouin ran the battle.”

  He then glared at Wendellhaid, who had been tasked with guarding her yesterday. He shrugged and gave a wide grin, showing off perfect teeth. “You wanted me to stop Arrietty? From helping people? I rather like remaining alive. Besides, there were children hurting Kalad, would you have stopped her?”

  “No, I would not have,” he sighed.

  “But it should have been done,” Judge said, his voice slurred. Healing as a Totimancer took energy, and they had agreed Arrietty would need as much as possible for the final assault.

  “It is in the past,” Arrietty said, striding forward and beginning to pull back one of the tables. Wendellhaid ran to join her. “Let’s focus on the future.”

  “Agreed,” Kaladhen said.

  The flaps to the tent opened, and two more figures strode in. One of them was young–even compared to the rest of them. Barely more than a boy. Jehan Vren was a fine looking lad destined to break hearts and born with enough courage and contempt uncommon even for others of noble blood. His black skin contrasted with the ghostly pale uniform he wore, and his hair flopped out in front of his face hiding the translucent eyes which revealed the depths of his being. He had the Gift of Animancy, the magic of speaking to spirits.

  Every Gift left a mark on its bearer. Sophomancy turned the hair to metallic silver, Totimancy made the skin flawless, Animancy made the eyes translucent, so on and so forth. Sometimes, Kaladhen missed the ruddish brown-red hair he had gotten from his mother.

  The other arrival was much older than the rest of them. Baudouin Vren was Jehan’s great uncle, and he wore a black suit with long trailing tails. A white beard adorned his face and his head was mostly bald, though he favored a wizened unibrow that gave him a stern casting to his features. His eyes though were a bright blue, and he regarded them on his entrance with a smile. “Perfection,” he said, gliding into the room and taking a seat at a table not yet fully moved. “Who are we missing?”

  “Just Lydia,” Arrietty said, taking the seat opposite him, both heads of the table claimed.

  Kaladhen sat at Arrietty’s right, where many of his maps were laid out. Judge took her left. Wendellhaid remained standing and began to go through the motions of a well practiced kata. Jehan sat beside Judge, and left Baudouin alone at his end of the table. He didn’t seem to mind, as he hummed idly to himself.

  “Shall we begin without her?” He asked. “Time is pressing, I presume our problem has been figured out?” He asked, raising one half of his eyebrow and looking at Kaladhen.

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  He shrank down slightly, then stood up straight. “Not fully.” He admitted.

  “Most problematic,” Baudouin said.

  “Problematic?” Jehan said. “I think it is damn stupid it isn’t figured out. How in Morterran’s name have we sailed to the world’s edge without considering our way back?”

  “Do not speak of Kaladhen like that,” Arrietty said, her hands hitting the table and glaring at Jehan.

  “I never said anything about him, it’s you who took it like that,” Jehan muttered.

  “Enough, child,” Baudouin said, resting a hand on Jehan’s shoulder. Kaladhen saw Jehan stiffen and heard the anger sputter in his mind even while trying to ignore it.

  Judge coughed and everyone fell silent. “Jehan isn’t wrong. We are sailing off the edge of the world with no way to turn back. Centurion Caesar Cicero will be here soon. We have a day, maybe two before an entire navy arrives. Even if he is no ally of Vitruvius, he certainly is not an ally of ours. If we don’t have the city firmly under our control, the Four Flowers are finished.”

  “Who said this was a stupid idea?” Jehan asked. “I did, and yet here we are. We tied our own noose and put our necks into it.”

  “We didn’t know he was coming,” Arrietty countered.

  “We could have left,” Baudouin said. “But we didn’t, because Kaladhen promised he would find us a way to survive.”

  Kaladhen felt every eye in the room focus on him. Sweat beaded down his forehead, and he did not bother to hide it. They all knew the situation. Swallowing, he began to speak.

  “I have considered our plight ever since we set foot on Dragon’s Throne four days ago. Our situation is dire, we all knew by coming here would mean risking everything. We have been on the backfoot since the four of us,” he said, glancing at Wendellhaid, Judge, and Arrietty, “formed the Five Flowers seven years ago when Dragon Hyrth died. We all agreed when we chose to sail here that we would fight to the bitter end. We fight because we want a better future, a better Artaghan. I warned you when we learned of Centurion our chances of victory, already narrow, dwindled into near impossibility.”

  Jehan was shaking his head, and Kaladhen could hear the fear rising in the young man’s mind. In fact, he could feel it from them all, himself included. None of them wanted to die, they all fought with the hope of making the world a better place. From their disparate backgrounds, they rallied together, each willing to put everything on the line. He understood the kid, he had his whole life ahead of them, they all did. Jehan alone of them had been dragged into war not for ideals but for glory, and yet he fought as hard as each of them.

  “We agreed to keep fighting despite that, and I promised I would fight to find us a way out. I have an idea, but it teeters on the edge of insanity and desperation. But first, we need to succeed in our initial goal. We must see Arrietty on the throne as Dragon. After that, I think I know how our dreams can continue.”

  He saw curiosity in them, hope as well. The fear bubbling to the surface of their thoughts was beginning to die down.

  “Spoken well,” a new voice said. Kaladhen turned to see their final member enter into the room. Lydia was not human, her pointed ears displayed prominently on her head. Most elves had learned to hide their ears and their plant-like hair. Lydia was not like most elves. Her hair was like a bush around her head, and she wore long feathers as earrings to draw attention to it. She wore a cloak woven from leaves of autumn, which looked excellent against her sun-tanned skin. She strode into the room and sat on the floor beside the table.

  “Garden tells me adversary draws his blighters to den. Now seems good time to strike.” Her voice was hard as stone, and used the words of Threstrian with caution, like tasting something not quite familiar.

  “I agree,” Wendellhaid said, piping up for the first time. He did not pause in his kata as he spoke, moving with fluidity as he continued. “We have momentum from reaching the fourth step. If Vitruvius moves more troops to the fifth step, that means he is scared. We have our way into the Den, and our plan to distract them, we should not delay a moment longer.”

  All eyes now turned to Arrietty. Kaladhen heard the worry in her mind, could almost feel the weight of the decision. He knew she hated his plan, and knew she would hate his other plan even more. But that would be dealt with later. For a long moment she was silent. “We move forth and do not look back. To do so would dishonor Melody’s memory and the memory of every other person we have lost.” The room was silent, Kaladhen heard the spike of sheer and absolute grief which dug into Judge’s mind. He almost wanted to enter his mind and ease the pain, but Judge would not want that. Sometimes, it was better to let someone grieve. “We fight and we hope and we take risks. That has been our plan from the start when we were nothing more than four kids playing pretend and hoping they can change the world. We are much more than that now. For the dream.”

  “For the dream,” they all echoed as they stood up. There was no more to be said. Even Jehan seemed content, and Kaladhen saw glory in his gaze. He was hungry for it. He nodded to Jehan. The kid understood, running off. For their plan to succeed, he needed to secure their path first. They had a few minutes to spare while he did that.

  Wendellhaid walked up to Kaladhen and pretty much threw himself against him. Kaladhen nearly fell over as Wendellhaid rubbed his knuckles through his hair and messing it up. “You being stupid?”

  “What?” Kaladhen asked.

  “You asked Arrietty out yet?”

  Kaladhen felt his cheeks color. “You know–”

  “Blah, blah, war is a bad time.” Wendellhaid used his hands to act as a mouth blabbering on. “Whatever, that isn’t the stupid I was really talking about anyways.”

  Kaladhen looked around. Judge and Baudouin were looking over the map of the city one last time, while Arrietty and Lydia had retreated out of the tent and were talking. They were alone, which was good as Kaladhen felt unease rising in his stomach. Wendellhaid had the unfortunate talent of guessing what was going on in Kaladhen’s head. “What stupid are you speaking of?”

  “You thinking of selling your life to Centurion so he gets his revenge and lets us live.”

  “No,” Kaladhen said, lying.

  Wendellhaid looked around. “You couldn’t stop me from shouting, you know.”

  Kaladhen froze. Wendellhaid was perhaps the greatest person Kaladhen had ever met at resisting Sophomancy. He would never be able to stop him from revealing Kaladhen’s intentions. “Are you going to shout?”

  “Are you going to insist on being stupid?”

  “It is not stupid Wendellhaid, it is the only way for everyone else to make it.” He held a hand up. “No, let me finish. Besides, I don’t mean to throw away my life. Centurion is no idiot. I betrayed him, chose Baudouin’s aid over his. He wants me dead and knows he can take the city from us. But, it would cost him. He would lose much of his navy and army, and he doesn’t much want to be Dragon anyways. I plan to offer him seven years of service, on the condition he doesn’t execute me or throw away my life. I think he will accept that. We take the throne, he gets me, and likely gets the ability to pull strings from afar as he so loves to do. We all survive, though I would be gone for a while. Is that so stupid my friend?”

  Wendellhaid was quiet for a long moment, they both were. “I am not going to renege on my oath Kalad. My life is to protect you. If I think he means to harm you, he will have to first kill me. But for now, you have my silence.” He let go of Kaladhen and began to stride towards the flap of the tent. He stopped, and looked back, his face broke into a smile again. “And make sure to watch your back. I got a war to distract them with, and somebody smart needs to keep an eye on you!”

  Kaladhen waved a hand, “I’ll keep an eye out for myself. Watch Arrietty for me!”

  He saw the glare Arrietty gave him as she was talking to Lydia, though it was tempered by the smile. He began to walk out the tent himself. The time had nearly come. The plan, for what it was worth, was simple. For perhaps the thousandth time, he played it out in his head.

  Vitruvius was holed up on the fifth step, in the Dragon’s Den. The entire thing was walled and manned. The only way into the capital was supposed to be the last part of the Spine. Dragon’s Throne was an island city, built on five steps of the mountainous spike which jutted out in the middle of a large bay. While many stairs led from one step to another, there was only a single road which led the entire way up. The Spine was wide and easy to travel, more of a ramp than stairs much of the way. But, the final step was different. The stairs up were steep and narrow. Designed to be hell to try and fight on, and well guarded. Enough Gryphons would let them harry the enemy from above, but they had only five, and the palace was armed with ballista and archers and gryphons of their own.

  Wendellhaid and Arrietty would lead their army to take the Spine, while Baudouin and Lydia would each lead a contingent of their own soldiers to harass the remaining defenders and keep the main army safe. Meanwhile, Kaladhen, Judge, and Jehan had a different task. There was one other way into the Den. A sewage pipe stuck out from the back of the mountain. There was an old smuggler’s route which led to it. It wasn’t so much a path as a rock-climb. Kaladhen shivered thinking of that. He would rather never scale a mountain again. It would likely be guarded, but not well. A large force could never use it, and few knew about it. Judge had learned of it from an old contact in the city and confirmed it was still in use. Jehan merely had to make sure no one was around when they entered.

  Like most of Kaladhen’s recent plans, it felt like a desperate and stupid gamble, but what was one more? He knew all the things that could go wrong, he felt them play over in his mind again and again. Another unfortunate consequence of his powers was that his mind’s eye was much more vivid. The light touch of a hand on his back made him jump as he turned to see Arrietty.

  She was smiling, and there was laughter in her gaze. “Did I spook you?”

  “High Father above yes. I was ruminating.”

  She laughed. “Poor old Kaladhen, dragged from his ruminations by a hand. Wendellhaid talked to you?”

  “Yes,” he said, feeling dread.

  “Talked you out of stupid?”

  “I am supposed to be the one who can read minds.”

  “I thought he would be the best one to convince you,” she said, smirking.

  He looked away. “We need to win.”

  “This is not a victory without you there to witness it.” She leaned against him, her head on his shoulders. He stiffened.

  “Ari,” he began.

  “Shush,” she said, a finger pressed against his lips. “It is almost over now. Soon, we will have the actual fun work.” Her eyes almost seemed to sparkle as she looked up at the Den. There was a hunger in them, an ambition. “I will make the world better, and you will be there with me helping. See you at the top.” She turned away.

  “For the dream,” Kaladhen said.

  “For the dream,” she echoed, striding off to do battle, to win her crown. She had earned it, he would see her with it. He smiled. It was time for the plan to begin.

  He went on, and found Judge, now alone and staring up at the night sky as their group split off for their separate missions. Kaladhen could feel his stomach buzzing with anticipation.

  “Not much longer, one way or another,” Judge croaked, his voice sounding particularly rough, as he slowly began to turn his eyes downward.

  Kaladhen followed his gaze, up towards the fourth terrace, in the crook of shadows where the street began to taper off and fall to the end of the island. “You think Jehan is ready by now?”

  “He is.” Judge sounded absolutely certain. He had always been the kid’s biggest supporter.

  “Let’s go then.”

  “For the dream…” Judge replied, trailing off.

  This was Kaladhen’s first time in Dragon’s Throne, though he had long heard tell of its majesty. It was a ghost of what it should have been. Seven years of war had worn on the city like the ocean on a cliff. The citizens had long retreated to either the fourth step or the first, where two shelters of the opposing sides housed the bystanders of their conflict. In the ruined homes, he saw the beauty of what should have been. Rubble that had once been colonnades, fabric that had once been tapestry. He saw the splendor of houses half broken, windows of stained glass broken. Whether it had been battle or looters looking to make the best of a bad situation he did not know. This was the effect of their dream. They may not have begun this war, but they perpetuated it. Funny how trying to make a better future often brought a worse present.

  There was a scattering of minds he heard as they walked. The frightened folk who refused to leave their homes. None walked the streets, few would know the minute differences of soldiers, they were largely the same to common folk–a fact Kaladhen knew intimately. But even so, he knew none would be out on the streets as he sensed something else walking the roads: Ghosts.

  Each of the ten High Houses had a Gift granted to them by a spirit of Artaghan—Kaladhen had Sophomancy, Arrietty Totimancy—House Vren had Animancy, the ability to commune with and command ghosts. You didn’t see ghosts so much as sense them. Kaladhen felt their presence chilling the air around them, certain he could catch glimpses of them staring at their group. Finally, an actual person loomed ahead of them. Jehan Vren waited for them, a gryphon at his side. He was wearing armor now, and it fit him well. He really had grown up.

  “You’re late,” Jehan said.

  “No sass,” Judge rasped, though he grinned at the kid—no man—as he passed. “Any people around?”

  “None,” Jehan said, his chest puffed out.

  “Is the path secured?” Kaladhen asked.

  “No one of note nearby. I have the gryphon ready to go. I tried to have my spirits reach the cliff, but it's too far to hold control of them. We have to go in blind.”

  “Unfortunate, but predictable,” Kaladhen said. He glanced at the gryphon, the odd mixture of bird and lion tilted its head and looked back at him. It seemed so human, and yet not. It made him uneasy. But he could see the powerful muscles beneath the fur and feather and the thing looked more than big enough. “Which of you wants to be carried?”

  Both Judge and Jehan looked at one another.

  “I have seniority,” rasped Judge.

  “You’re smaller.”

  “I agree with Jehan,” Kaladhen said.

  Judge glared at him, but did not complain as he crouched down.

  Kaladhen climbed on as Jehan clasped himself in behind Kaladhen. Kaladhen forewent the belt that would strap him in. Their flight was short and if they encountered resistance, he preferred the ability to leap into the pipe quickly. He ignored the image his mind summoned of plummeting to an early grave. He grabbed a tight hold of the reins. “Ready?”

  “Yes,” Jehan said.

  “I suppose,” Judge replied.

  “Hyah!” He whipped the reins and the gryphon took flight. It grabbed Judge as it flew and sped forward. The pathway ended and there was only the open ocean beneath them. It was rolling and tossing as the white foam of a churning sea battered the rock beneath the city. Ahead, Kaladhen saw the vast support pillar of rock that helped hold the city aloft. They flew past it and upwards, staying beneath the city as much as they could, clinging to the shadows. The air whipped at them with a harshness Kaladhen had not been anticipating. He had forgotten the speed at which gryphons could fly. Like lightning, he saw them approach their destination, a single pipe stuck out of the mountain. Beside it, he could see glints of metal that were hand-holds painstakingly dug into the mountainside for particularly risk-prone smugglers to use in illicit dealings with people inside the Den.

  He sensed a mind inside the tunnel. With the wind, he knew his companions would not be able to hear. They could not waste time, they were ready for this, though Kaladhen worried himself as the mind seemed familiar, and well possessed of themself. They reached the pipe, and Kaladhen flung himself in. He landed in refuse, and saw their foe as Jehan and Judge flung themselves in as well.

  He unfortunately did know her. Lylian Montello, daughter of Vitruvius Montello, and a powerful Sanguimancer–blood mage. He also had embarrassed her publicly in the middle of a party filled with her peers many years ago and suspected she might still hold a personal grudge.

  By the way her eyes gleaned with excitement, he confirmed his guess. “Hello Lylian. Come here often?” he asked, hoping Jehan could get a spirit to help them quickly.

  Her smile deepened. She was playing with a dagger in her hands. He knew she was just as deadly with that as she was with her magic. Could he overwhelm her defense quickly enough before she could act? He doubted it. “Oh, Kaladhen, how lovely it is to see you. I was so hoping to meet you again. And you brought friends! Hiya Judge.”

  “Lylian,” he replied.

  “Why the sad face?” She asked. “Going to do something distasteful?”

  Kaladhen could feel the tension in Judge’s mind, the fear, the uncertainty, and also a twinge of guilt. That was unexpected, but he kept his attention on Lylian. He took a step forward, feeling his boots squelch in the puddle of sludge he trudged through.

  “Ah ah ah, not one more step. I have a duty to tend here. Can’t be having you ruin me a second time.” Kaladhen stepped back. Of all people to find, why her? Why would Vitruvius waste such a valuable asset here? Had he suspected their plan? He was so close to victory, to seeing Arrietty’s dream through to the end. This could not be the way he failed. He shifted, ready to act.

  Pain shot up through his stomach. He grunted. Lylian had not moved. In fact, he felt shock blossom in her mind. He looked down. A gleam of metal jutted out from him, crimson pooling down and dripping off. He was certain that should not be there. He felt hot. Then the pain started. “Ow,” he tried to say, but it came off as more of a sharp rasp. He coughed and saw a spatter of blood come up, and his mouth tasted of metal. Finally, he felt his mind kick in. He opened his mouth to scream, but a hand came from behind and covered it.

  “For her dream,” Judge whispered. There was a rush of air. Wind whipped at him. Nothing was beneath him. He was floating, he was falling. The ocean beckoned him close. And blackness took him.

  *

  Judge watched Kaladhen fall, disappearing into the waves below. He looked at his hand, blood stained from Kaladhen’s mouth. He wiped it on the hilt of his dagger, and put his glove back on. Then, he pulled from his pocket a tansy and dropped it after the corpse. He turned back towards the Sanguimancer, eyes still open in shock. Then the ghosts appeared behind her, like stains of a person on the world and took her, wrenching her down. He tossed his dagger over the side of the cliff. Jehan glanced at him, then down at Lylian. “What do we do with her?”

  Judge smiled. “Make an alibi.” Lylian was struggling, he saw fury in her eyes. Like Kaladhen, he had taken something from her, like Kaladhen he had sacrificed one to save the rest.

  She was laughing, tears in her eyes. Whether they were from fear or madness he was not sure. “Years I dreamt of this moment, and it is stolen from me at the last moment. My veng–” There was a crack of bone, as Lylian’s neck was twisted entirely the wrong way. She slumped, unmoving. In the distance, Judge thought he could make out the very first ship approaching. He was not worried. They had plenty of time, he had long since bought it, this was just the confirmation. “Let’s go.”

  *

  Far below, where the ocean churned and beat, where water was foam of white and rocks like teeth smiled from the sea, there was a light like a fire beneath the waters. And as the ocean currents stole away a body, Kaladhen breathed once again.