Alchemical power surged through her veins as the wind howled in Ro’s ears. Her feet blurred, slamming into the dirt as she sprinted across the frontier.

  Every step launched her dozens of strides. She felt almost weightless — rarely did she get the opportunity to push herself to such a great extent.

  Normally, she loved the feeling; now she could only feel the anxious knot in her stomach winding tighter by the minute.

  With every footfall, the dirt cratered, leaving only shattered mulch in her trail as grass and brush were obliterated in her passage.

  She longed to go faster, to push herself harder until her joints screamed and the soles of her feet bled. It would have been a fool's move, so she forced herself to hold back. As much of a bastard as it was to admit it, Rieker was right. There was no point arriving half-dead and alone.

  The two other Golds with her kept pace — though they had to push far harder than she did to keep up. Rieker moved in huge bounding leaps. His heavy plate clanked with every surge of motion, a spiked hammer clutched tightly in one of his hands.

  Beside him, Arc thundered: a blitzing comet of molded bone that shattered the very ground with his advance.

  Bronwyn and his team were far behind them. Even with the assistance of tonics, it was too much to ask for mid-Silvers to keep up with Golds — especially when they had imbibed the same alchemical infusion.

  Every second they could save was one that might save a life. If Bronwyn and his team arrived relatively fresh as a second wave of reinforcements, all the better.

  Besides, if Kaius and his team were still fighting when they arrived? Against that many Silvers? They would be strong. Strong enough that the addition of three Golds would be enough to turn the tide.

  She just hoped they were still fighting. Gods, let them still be fighting. Ro clenched her jaw tighter, her teeth feeling like they might shatter.

  It had barely been an hour, but it felt like a year. Every second stretched long as her heart hammered in her chest, in time with the pounding of her feet. The forest where she had detected the clash and surging mana lay ahead. She could practically smell the smoke, see the air of violence that had settled over the smeared greenery on the horizon.

  Without the tonics, it would have taken them half a day or more to arrive, and they would have been exhausted when they did. With the tonics? They’d get there far faster — but it wouldn’t be without cost. Ro wasn’t looking forward to tomorrow, she could already feel the headache building.

  There was no doubt in her mind that it would be worth it. She could ride out the hangover knowing those boys still lived.

  So she kept running.

  They hit the tree line, tearing through it like madmen. With so many obstacles, anyone else would have had to slow their pace. She didn’t. Leaning on a lifetime of experience, her general skills, and Unseen Step, she danced through the trunks like a wraith. Rieker and Ark were less agile, but they still didn’t slow.

  Rieker’s hammer surged with the power of his stamina, glowing as he channeled a skill Ro knew well — Heart Breaker, Widow Maker. Whenever a thin pine or a young oak stood in his path, he swung, and the tree would simply explode. Backed by Skills, simple vegetation was not enough to bar the war dog’s path.

  Arc needed even less effort. He was a peak Gold, with every single one of his skills in the second tier. A rare thing on the frontier — one of only two she knew of. His bony plating thickened as visible energy crackled over its surface, sealing him in more completely than even the most finely wrought heavy plate. What was once the color of polished ivory was now inscribed with swirling patterns of natural sacred geometry that all but screamed of focus and fury to her well-trained senses.

  Arc didn’t punch the trees, or bash them out of his path as Rieker did, and he certainly didn’t maneuver around them. No — Arc kept running, and anything that happened to be in his path simply…broke.

  Ro readied herself, drawing her bastard sword in a one-handed grip, ready to dive straight for the enemy backline. The mages would be first, they were always her priority. She was a hybrid, a rare thing — rogue and skirmisher both; able to quickly slip through enemy formations and strike at the weak heart.

  And they did have mages. Even from leagues away, she could smell it, taste it on her tongue: the violent discharge of mana. It wasn’t Kaius — at least not the spells she knew he had. No, this reeked of celestial war magic.

  The very taste of it made her tighten her grip on her blades. It was an ephemeral affinity, but she had seen the devastation celestial magic could bring. Whoever that mage was, they were the greatest threat.

  Leagues vanished in what felt like seconds. Through a thin gap in the trees, Ro saw it: the battlefield, just barely close enough for her to see.

  With the sight came dread.

  It was manifest devastation.

  Fueled by her fear, she dug deep, tearing forwards as she pulled on everything she had. Rieker and Ark fell behind her in an instant.

  “Gods damnit, Ro! You’ll get yourself killed!” Rieker called after her.

  Ignoring her partner, she closed the distance. Every sense screamed at her, tuned to the remnants of a clash that could only have ended in death.

  Trees had been reduced to smouldering stumps; the air reeked of blood and cooling offal. Mana crackled in the atmosphere, still charged from war magic; the very ground looked like it had been bombarded by dwarven cannoneers for hours. Yet, among the fallen trunks and their splayed-out boughs, her ears caught nothing except quiet breathing — steady and even.

  Four people. Ready for battle. One was deep and heavy — likely a vanguard, perhaps somebody with giant’s blood. Regardless, it was one too many.

  Her throat tightened as Ro clenched her teeth and swallowed grief. She tore to the nearest trunk, planting her boot against its bark. Wood splintered as she kicked off, sailing up over the twisted and broken remnants of an elm.

  Straight towards the breaths of the killers she had heard. Unseen Death cloaked her form, an illusion reflecting what lay behind her. Her blade came up high as she crested the leaves.

  Her heart lurched. There was no enemy — no battle worn remnants of ambushers. All she saw was Kaius, Ianmus, and a far-too-large Porkchop standing next to an aen with her bow drawn. Behind them lay a pile of bodies, ten men strong, their gear half stripped and tossed to the side.

  For a moment Ro froze in shock, even as she continued to sail towards them, her blade relaxing in her grip.

  As soon as she was within a couple dozen long strides of the team, the archer snapped to her and loosed.

  “Enemy!” the aen screamed as howling wind surrounded her arrow.

  Ro reacted on instinct. Two skills layered her blade. She snapped it up, cutting the arrow from the air even as forceful winds buffeted her back.

  It was an impossible shot — strong, possibly strong enough to be Gold. Splinters showered her, punching deep through her leathers to rip through her body. Ro ignored the pain — trusting in her Skills to keep her hale.

  More than that, Kaius and his team had aura — they were Silver! Yet it felt wrong — it pressed upon her like a living thing, needling her own with an aggression she’d never experienced. It screamed their intent: death and mayhem.

  She let the blow carry her back as her thoughts raced. Dropping her cloak of Unseen Death, she shimmered back into reality even as she cut another arrow out of the air.

  Her sword rang like a bell — quaking in her hand as she deflected the shot.

  “It’s me!” Ro screamed.

  Kaius and Porkchop were already charging towards her, only to stumble as recognition dawned on her face.

  “Hold!” Kaius screamed, throwing out an arm towards the ranger. To Ro’s surprise she listened immediately — clearly it was no alliance of necessity.

  Ro studied her face. It was jagged and sharp, as all aen’s features were — but there was something familiar about it. Tilting her head, realisation struck her a moment later. She recognized that nose, that brow.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  The Aen stared back intently, suspicion written on her face.

  The clues had already been there. Nothing from a fresh silver should have spotted her, not even one that was clearly just as unnaturally capable as Kaius and the rest of them.

  At least, not so suddenly: not only as she drew close. There was only one skill she knew of that fit that bill — one attached to a rather prominent clan founded by aen. Farseer. The archer was a spitting image of the last bearer of the Skill that she’d met.

  Ro snapped back to Kaius, who was still staring at her in shock. His blade was held high. It looked different, but it was clearly the same. Bastard had managed to evolve his sword while he was gone — blessed by the gods’ damned fates that he was.

  “Why the fuck is Luiriel’s brat with you?” she demanded.

  Why did she say that? All that mattered was that they were breathing.

  Kaius only blinked. “Ro? What? How?”

  “You know my mother?” the aen questioned, slowly lowering her bow as a puzzled look spread across her face..

  “Please, you think the clans have that many Golds? We’ve hunted together,” Ro said, before she sheathed her sword and raced forward to wrap her hands around Kaius’s shoulders and Porkchop’s leg. “I’m so fucking glad you’re alive. All of you.”

  …

  Kaius stood stunned, his mind struggling to catch up as Ro’s arm wrapped around his shoulder and tugged him down into a tight hug. How was she here? That made no sense.

  Old Yon, he could understand — he’d harbored the suspicion the man had been tracking them since he’d seen that flash of light as they’d broken into his vault. But the guild? Ro had come here ready for a fight. Had she been tracking them? Even that didn’t explain it — Deadacre was days away.

  More importantly, why was she alone?

  His question was answered a moment later as a low roar carried across the forest, joined by the sound of splintering wood. It was growing louder by the second, a tearing frenzy smashing its way towards them.

  Rieker, it had to be.

  He immediately relaxed further — everyone did, except Kenva. The ranger looked tense, unsure. Kaius gave her a smile, letting her know it was fine.

  Ro pulled away from him. “Shit.”

  A burst of movement, and she was gone — vanishing towards the approaching noise so fast that Kaius struggled to keep up with the motion. Yet…most of that was from surprise rather than inability.

  The starkness of it struck him. Before, it had been almost impossible to follow Ro’s movements — even without her camouflaging skill. The woman had been a ghost. Now, with a little focus, he could watch her dash from tree to tree in stark bursts of movement.

  Another sign of how far they’d come.

  Moments after Ro vanished out of sight, Kaius heard her call out — almost manic with relief.. “They’re alive! The enemy is dead!”

  The crashing stopped. As far as he could tell, the guild master had still been at least half a league off. If Ro was catching Rieker up to speed, they might have a minute or so.

  Beside him, Kenva looked confused. “She knows my mother,” she said. “What did you say her name was?”

  “Ro,” Porkchop said. “She mentioned once that she was Northern Hiwiann, if that helps.”

  Kenva’s brow furrowed before realization struck. “Wait. You don’t mean Drorome, do you? The Quiet?”

  Kaius paused. “That is her name, but I must admit I’ve never caught her Gold name.”

  Kenva seemed to brighten at that, a wide smile spreading across her face. “She’s a legend. My mother spoke of her fondly. They weren’t quite friends, but like Ro said, they hunted together when the Quiet was still Silver. It's a fairly common way people stay friendly with each other in the clans. Mother always said she was impossible to spot without Farseer — I didn’t expect it to be quite so literal, though.”

  Kaius blinked, surprised. He was struck by a sudden sense that the world was a lot smaller than he had though. Yet, as he thought about it more, he supposed it wasn’t so surprising. The central lands of Vaastivar had been uniformly low mana before the integration. People in the second tier were rare — doubly so for Golds. It wouldn’t be so difficult for the very upper echelons to know each other, at least by name and reputation. Calling each other acquaintances wasn’t so strange.

  Before he could question Kenva more about what her mother had said about Ro, he heard movement in the trees. The guild administrator reappeared with Rieker in tow — and a titan bound in bone-plate.

  Kaius locked on to the man, taller even than him — perhaps as tall as Ianmus. Kaius didn’t recognize his race. He was ignorant of many things, considering he had grown up in the Arboreal Sea. More than anything, the stranger felt strong — his nascent aura the strongest he had ever felt from someone who hadn’t grasped Authority.

  Yet for all his power and intimidating visage, when he met the man’s eyes, he saw them staring at the corpses behind him with a solemnity that belied his clenched fists.

  Before he could question the man’s presence, Rieker burst forward, laughing, yanking him into a hug before pulling him off his feet.

  “Kaius, my boy! I told Ro! I told her! I knew you’d win! But silver — and just as strange as everything else about you and your team. Your aura is what I would expect of a fresh silver, but at the same time, it's stronger even than Arc’s — dense like lead. And you, Porkchop,” he said, craning his head up at the mass of muscle. “The second tier has treated you well, I see. I hope you’ve learned to shrink, otherwise you’ll struggle to fit in the guild hall.”

  Porkchop chuffed finally, before Rieker swept past them and clapped Ianmus so hard on the shoulder the mage nearly fell to his knees.

  “And you! Still breathing! Judging by the strength I can feel, you’ve closed the gap a little, haven’t you?”

  Ianmus grinned. “Didn’t want to keep holding them back — thought I'd make a few changes.

  Rieker bellowed out a laugh. “I didn’t expect you to take that comment quite so seriously!”

  “But who’s this?” Rieker finished, turning to Kenva. “It’s rare to see an Ayn in these lands. I assume you must have fallen into the hands of that lot at the same time as this group of brutes?” Rieker asked, jutting his head to the pile of bodies behind them.

  “That, I’m fairly certain, is Luiriel’s brat,” Ro said, the giant clad in bone trailing behind her as she stepped forward.

  “That I am,” Kenva replied confidently. “And you are the Quiet. Mother told me stories about you. How did you recognize me?”

  Ro grinned. “Farseer. It’s the only skill I know of that would go from not being able to see me to piercing my illusion in an instant, and you only spotted me when I crossed the bounds of your soul-sight. That, and you have your mother’s nose.”

  Kaius blinked. It was still odd how open Hiwianns were with their skills. Even if he was open with his team and those he trusted beyond what was considered normal, it was hard to imagine casually speaking of someone’s strongest general skill within seconds of meeting them. Kenva, however, seemed to take it in stride as if it was normal.

  Behind Ro, the bone-clad giant shifted again. Odd that the man hadn’t dismissed his skill — unless it was some natural feature of his people? Regardless, the giant seemed almost…awkward. If a Gold could be considered as such, most would probably just interpret it as the man being stoic.

  The fact that the giant couldn’t seem to figure out what to do with his hands suggested otherwise though.

  “Who’s this?” he asked.

  “This one is Arc’theros, the Defender of Grandbrook,” Arc replied in a booming voice — his eyes still fixated on the grave they had barely started to dig. “The one known as Old Yon attempted to bring me into his employ, based on an honour debt I owed him. I came to try and prevent this tragedy.”

  Arc paused for a moment, meeting Kaius’s eyes. There was curiosity there, but it was largely overshadowed by relief.

  “It seems I was not needed.”

  Arc tilted his head. “This one must profess confusion. The letter the one known as Old Yon sent mentioned that they were children — but this team is Silver?”

  Rieker let out a booming laugh. “Oh aye, they’re just kids — but they’re fucking strong ones.”

  The guildmaster turned, giving Kaius and his team a smile brimming with pride and relief. A moment later, the habits of a seasoned warrior took over, and Rieker switched to piled bodies behind them.

  “Come, we should finish stripping the dead. No point burying them though, we need to burn them. The chances are low, but with these bodies being silver and the mana being so high, we don’t want to risk the rise of a natural undead. We already have enough problems on our hands without a plague this close to the city.”

  Without saying more, Rieker stomped to the twisted remnants of a nearby broken tree and began dragging over a hunk of its trunk.

  “Come on — many hands make light work! I’m sure we have much to discuss, and all, but now we know that you’re still breathing it can wait for a spell. You lot need a breather — we can talk once we catch up with Bronwyn on the way back — it’s been long coming for you to met him and his team.”

  Kaius nodded — he’d heard of the man around Deadacre’s common room a handful of times. He could wait to share his story until every party was present — especially if that team had torn their way across the frontier to give them a hand when they needed it.

  “What of Deadacre — has much happened? We’ve been away for almost half a year.”

  Rieker paused for a moment — and Kaius caught Ro wincing. So something had happened — that wasn’t good. Hopefully it wasn’t anything catastrophic — at least not so much so that he couldn’t take a breather for a week or five.

  Rieker coughed, before he continued dragging a tree over to the site of their mass grave.

  “Let’s just say there’ve been many interesting developments in Deadacre — one of which we may need your help with. We found Imperial ruins under the city.”

  Kaius froze mid-step to assist with the cleanup of the battle. He met his team’s eyes. Ianmus and Kenva were as shocked as he was. Porkchop, however, looked confused.

  “Empire ruins? Kaius and Ianmus have mentioned them a few times, but what’s so surprising about that?”

  “They’re dangerous — and ancient,” Kenva replied.

  “Full of lost magic,” Ianmus added, looking excited.

  A grin spilled across Kaius’s face. “And forgotten riches.”

  “Loot?”

  “Loot,” Ro replied. “And a danger we need help scouting — we have a beast problem occupying our attention.”

  A beast problem? Could it have been related to that stampede that had given them the diversion they so desperately needed as they were breaking out of Old Yon’s prison?

  He hurried to assist in building the pyre. He’d missed too much while they were away. A walk back to Deadacre would be perfect to learn of what troubles plagued the city. Plus, they might be able to recruit the guild's help in finding out more about the new lead he had to follow. Morton and Wilting Rose.

  Plus, if Deadacre truly was in a precarious spot, he had little interest in abandoning the friends he had made there to their fates. If he could help out — especially now, when his strength might make the difference — then he would.

  Kaius just hoped that they might get a couple weeks to decompress first.

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