The stairs terminated abruptly into a long hallway. A lone soldier’s boots tapped the floor, bouncing the sound off the walls in a mechanical echo. The wind shifted as he turned his back to the stairwell, and marched sluggishly down the hall once again. He looked up at the stone ceiling, as if a scribe were floating there to mark his words in ink.

  “Why’s it me that’s gotta work this shift? Bernard and Hoff are both out fighting those rebels. Damn that Kaleh. If you’d have just followed orders I’d be out there, too.”

  Part of me sympathized. The dull, stale air and the static environment reminded me of home in a way. I had never known how badly I wanted to leave, until I was cast out. My thought was interrupted by another shift in the air. He marched back toward the stairwell.

  Marilleth gestured to both of us. A point retracted into a fist, let’s take the guard out.

  I shook my head, absolutely not.

  I point to the brown door diagonal to us, through the threshold. Agnes seemed to be in agreement. Marie nodded as well, after dropping her shoulders slightly. I felt a gust of wind, urging us to move. I signaled both of them to go.

  The door shut quietly behind us.

  “I think we’re safe for now. Definitely didn't hear us” spouted Agnes in a half-whisper.

  Marie snapped back “they’ll be onto us if you don’t shut it.”

  The room itself was clad in the same mortared cobblestone. A chandelier hosted a family of candles, all searing a faint orange light into the air. A table sat alone under it, bearing a cluster of maps.

  Marilleth turned to me, “where are we right now?”

  The way the furniture was placed seemed oddly familiar. A rather decadent chair sat at the head of the table, with ordinary chairs in single file on each side.

  “Strikes me as a strategy room, based on what I’ve seen in Vuudweyen manor. There’d always be someone in ours, so we got lucky here.”

  Agnes’ head swiveled toward each corner of the room. “No way it’ll last for too long. Where should we go?”

  An astute question, given the only way out was the way we came in. In a stroke of genius, she returned to the maps, carefully sifting through until she found one that looked familiar.

  “Ok... we came from here... interrogation cell... records room... this is where we are now.”

  Marie joined us at the table, “here.”

  She pointed to a rectangular sketch labeled “Evidence.”

  Just then, the clattering of chainmail came from the end of the hall, as a band of halberdiers, swordsmen, and crossbowmen hurried outside. The guard stopped in his rhythmic pacing, “Hells... what is going on out there?”

  I watched through the door — now slightly cracked. He stepped over to the end of his line, boots continuing to clink against stone as he leaned around the corner.

  “Agnes, Marie, he’s distracted — go now.” We filed out of the room on eggshells, making our way hastily toward our objective.

  The next room was filled with weapon-racks, chests, and many thin tables.

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  “Leonn, can I trust you on your own for a second? I need my medicine bag.”

  I leaned against the furniture, held together only by willpower and old nails. The sounds of tossed-aside trinkets echoed from behind as I spied a particularly fine weapon on the wall. Reflecting light from a brazier, sharpened to a razor edge, and the handle beckoned to me from within the wire basket.

  It reminded me of my "golden days," the ones before my training turned purely magical. How long ago was it, my duel against Harvett? I still hate that bleedin’ cheater, but maybe I shouldn’t have struck after the game was over.

  Marilleth joined me during my introspection.

  “You’re sizing up that sword? It has so much added flair. Not to mention it’d snap against armor.”

  I turned to her, “It’s magnificent. You can see the wear on the handle, but the blade is well kept. Besides it’s not meant for fighting armor.”

  She thought on it for a moment, using the silent beat to look closer.

  “If it’s such a great needle, then why not bring it with us?”

  I admit, the hilt did call to me with it’s siren song, but my arm wasn’t allured.

  “It’s not mine to take. It doesn’t matter if I were well enough to wield it, I simply couldn’t.”

  Marie suppressed a laugh.

  “I swear, you nobles and your honor sometimes. You’ll get your own someday.”

  My wound began acting up again, crying mercy to a weapon long gone. Agnes joined us, rifling carefully through her bag.

  “Nope... It’s a shame I don’t have any more water, you’d probably heal right up.”

  “I can handle it. How do we get out?”

  Agnes studied her memory, appearing to be looking at maps etched under her eyelids.

  “I saw a hidden exit marked down in the library. We can go straight out of town by a sewer line.”

  She paused, interrupted by more loud rumbling.

  “Leads to the river. Not too deep, so we can wade across it.”

  Marilleth chimed in, “then we can flee and never look back. Sounds good.”

  The hall was empty, yet more threatening than ever. The silence wasn’t just sharp, it was trying to gut us. Each step broke the eerie quiet as we shuffled through the corridor. Steel clashed in the distance, and I didn’t want to be on the receiving end. Marie pulled her knife out, opening a door with her free hand as she moved in.

  “Nobody’s in here, come on.” She whispered from within.

  Agnes dragged me in beside her,“we’re looking for a journal called Project 17-W. Pulling it from the shelf will trigger the mechanism.”

  How much could Agnes store in her mind at once? Remind me never to insult her...

  Agnes’ eyes darted between a couple of shelves.

  “We’re looking for a research journal, I think. If I know libraries...”

  She dragged me over to a specific section as if she had been here before. This quaint corner held striking, memorable literature like Special binding test 17, Kastvassen subterranean expedition, and other impressively boring scientific titles.

  Soon enough, Project 17-W appeared before us. Agnes reached up to grab it, but was not tall enough to grab it on her own. The door suddenly burst open, a couple of soldiers rushing in with torches and setting fires. Marie jumped up onto the bookshelf, climbing it as a ladder before snatching the journal.

  “What the...?”

  A man rounded the corner alongside a wind spirit that bore the fangs of a wolf.

  “Intruders! Here in the records section!”

  The mechanism began moving, and Marie dropped down, shoving the book into Agnes’ free hand.

  According to theories I read in my gift from Eligor, wind spirits are particularly resistant to physical attacks, but highly respondent to magic — naturally the opposite of earth spirits. Needless to say, it did not do much when Marie began throwing the heavier books at it. We needed to buy time as the mechanism shifted open.

  Marie was standing between me and them, so fire is out of the question. If I let my scrawl take control of the situation without reins, then she might get hurt. I took a deep breath, focusing what was left of my energy, and calming myself against the odds.

  “Please, wash them away.” I beg to the gods this works.

  A torrent of water blasted around Marie in an arc, steady as a still pond, yet flowing like rapids. The torrential stream disrupted the spirit and sent its master flying. The worst has passed... calm ourselves and keep going. The secret exit was fully open, revealing a button to close it down the narrow corridor.

  Agnes turned to the still shaken Marie. Urging her forward despite the quaking arms and legs. The mechanism let out an unsettling clash of metal against metal. I get the feeling it won’t open again for anyone.

  this Friday for another chapter.