The most prominent ruined city in the Wastes is Hertwolf, not only because of its central location and size, but also because of its history. Whereas the rest of the Wastes represent a constant danger to anyone, this city alone has seen a constant human presence for nearly one hundred years. It is a safe haven for anyone who finds himself north of the Frontier as long as they observe the rules set by its ancient ruler, the Demon of the Tower.

  Excerpt from 'Living off the Land: The Wastes'

  “I don't like this,” Dovell said as he stared at the two channellers who were busy preparing the blueshift. He and the rest of his lance were waiting inside the Ministry of Transportation in preparation for the blueshift that would take them far north into the Wastes.

  “First time you blueshifted, sir?” Nissek asked with a neutral face.

  “Yes,” Dovell replied. “I don't much like the thought of having to... displace my body over such a huge distance. It makes my skin crawl, regardless of how safe they claim it is.” He eyed the two channellers who in this matter represented the 'they' he was speaking about. They did not respond, however, either not having heard Dovell or pretending as such.

  Dovell swallowed. His throat felt dry. It wasn't fear he felt; it was distrust. He didn't like exposing himself to magic from others, not even channellers of a ministry. A long time ago, an event he cared not to remember had planted a seed of doubt in him which had stayed with him ever since.

  He glanced at the faces of the rest of the lance and noted that at least Tobiac and Bastian seemed to share his concerns; both of them appeared agitated. Bastian even had sweat dripping down his forehead. Harra, on the other hand, was stony-faced as usual and Dovell couldn't see Rooy's face as he was studying one of the rune boards that would be used for the blueshift.

  “Have you ever been in Hertwolf before, sir?” Nissek said. “You served some years on the Frontier as a burcht blade, right?”

  Dovell nodded. “I served at Cariburg for four years, but I've never been to Hertwolf. Back then the Frontier hadn't yet reached there, and nobody goes north of the Frontier unless they have to.” He waved his hand dismissively. “And before you ask, I never saw the Demon of the Tower either. The ?ther beings he prefers to hunt only rarely come near the burchts. Something we were grateful for, I might add.”

  “The Demon of the Tower,” Tobiac mused. “What kind of madness must have possessed the pioneers of the Frontier to make a deal with such a being?”

  “The kind born out of necessity,” Dovell said, frowning. “Remember that ghast we killed the other day? Beyond the Frontier you can find heaps of those, of every size and shape. And not just ghasts, but also horrors, chimeras, elementals, even constructs that still guard the ruins of the cities that were destroyed during the Second Bane. Some of those beings are powerful enough to destroy the entire Royal Guard without getting a scratch.”

  “Really?” Tobiac asked nervously.

  “Neria, Kataburg, Pennetar,” Dovell recited. “All burchts that were utterly destroyed by one or more of those things.”

  “I heard about Pennetar,” Tobiac said. “I didn't know there were more battles like that.”

  “Battles?” Dovell said with an indignant look. “You mean massacres. Over two hundred people died at Pennetar, including more than forty burcht blades, most of them men who had years of experience. You know how many of that swarm of halisoks they managed to kill? Thirteen out of near a hundred. The only reason you haven't heard about the other two I mentioned is because they were destroyed before they were completed. Few lives were lost as a result, but the burchts in question were obliterated all the same.”

  “What happened afterwards?” Bastian asked. “At Pennetar, I mean. How did they stop the swarm?”

  “They didn't,” Dovell said. “After razing Pennetar, the swarm turned it into a nest, which in turn gave the Demon enough cause to annihilate them. The current agreement with the Demon was made in large part because of what happened there.”

  Tobiac grabbed the hilt of his sword tightly, turning his knuckles white. It seemed that the story had only served to increase his level of anxiety.

  Dovell didn't scold Tobiac for his fear. Being afraid was a good thing, as long as it did not turn into panic. The first prevented men from doing stupid things, while the second caused them to do so.

  Nissek tapped Tobiac on the shoulder. “Don't worry,” he said. “We are going to Hertwolf where the Demon lives. It's the only place in the Frontier that is as devoid of ?ther beings as Rios.” He grinned. “Well, apart from the Demon itself, who's the one enforcing that peace after all.”

  “That doesn't mean it won't be dangerous,” Dovell said grimly. “There is a good reason that we are here instead of some agents of the Whisper. Keep that in mind.”

  A good reason indeed, he reflected wryly. He recalled the conversation he had had with the Whisper's grandmaster before King Darych. As far as Dovell was concerned, his place was here in Rios, not in some ruined city on the edge of the inhabited world following a hair-thin trail.

  He felt especially strong about it after the Whisper let the only lead they had escape from the Stockade. Inside help or not, that by itself was a plain indicator of how useless the Whisper had become and how far the influence of the ones they were looking for had stretched. Hyna was now the prime suspect in Dovell's mind, with all the other magic guilds, including Callium, trailing closely behind.

  Yet the King had commanded him to go as he was the most suited for it, something he grudgingly had to admit was true. Of all the people in the Royal Guard, only two others besides Dovell had served at the Frontier: Guard Baster from Fourth Lance and Guard-captain Snek from Second.

  Baster couldn't go because he had been cursed at the Frontier during a skirmish with some horror, which had left him completely lethargic. They had brought him to Rios in search of a cure, only for him to recover before they even arrived. It turned out that whatever ?ther affliction he had contracted was bound to the location where it had afflicted him. Every time he went north to meet his family, they had to come down south to meet him halfway lest he became affected again.

  Guard-captain Snek's unsuitability was less complex. He was a good captain, but for some unknown reason he possessed a deep hatred of everything related to the Frontier. Because of this, he had even treated Dovell with disdain in the past. If Snek was to go, the only result would be a lot of angry people in Hertwolf and little else, which wasn't desirable considering the delicateness of the situation.

  So in the end Dovell had relented. Now he was here, waiting to travel a distance that would normally take near three weeks overland in the blink of an eye.

  He looked around. Apart from the channellers and some other ministry personnel, they were the only ones here.

  Hertwolf doesn't appear to be a popular destination with anyone. I wonder why the ministry bothered to create a blueshift portal there.

  “We are ready,” one of the channellers said.

  Dovell straightened himself up. No getting out of it now. Let's get this over with.

  “Fifth Lance, line up,” Dovell commanded, positioning himself in front of the two high poles placed against the far wall. Right now there was nothing there but hard brick, but in a few moments those poles would span a gateway to Hertwolf between them.

  The simplest way to describe the Blueshift spell was that it instantly connected two areas of space regardless of the actual distance between them, thus forming a portal. Anything could then freely move through that portal as long as the spell was maintained.

  The downside of the spell, however, was that apart from space it also connected the ?ther in both locations, leading to a rapid increase in ?ther volatility on both sides as the various elements surged to meet the new situation.

  Therefore, to prevent risking a blowout, a blueshift was only maintained for a brief period of time and required a calming period of several hours afterwards. This, combined with the number of cities included in the rotation for the blueshift, meant that it would be four days before the next gateway to Hertwolf could be opened.

  As Dovell gazed at the brick wall between the two poles, it disappeared. He could now see a room beyond with grey stone walls and a single balding man with bronze-tinted skin, dressed in the light-grey and yellow robe of a scribe. When he noticed Dovell and the others, he looked surprised.

  He wasn't expecting to see us, Dovell thought. “Fifth Lance, double pace.”

  There was no particular sensation as he rushed through the gateway, the experience the same as moving from one room into another. He stepped past the balding man into the room, his men pouring in behind him.

  Dovell turned around just in time to see the gateway flicker out of existence again. Apart from his lance and the balding man, there were four more people in the room: three men and a woman with fiery red hair, all dressed in the blue and light-grey outfit of the Ministry of Transportation.

  The channellers for this side of the blueshift.

  The balding man seemed to have recovered from his surprise. “Welcome to Hertwolf. I am Scribe Uziel Ponjeh. May I enquire who you might be?”

  “I am Guard-captain Dovell Messchiel of the Royal Guard, Fifth Lance.” He made a wide stroke with his arm. “These are my men. I take it our arrival is not what you expected?”

  “No, it is not,” Uziel said as he looked from one guard to the other. “I was made aware that something important would arrive during this shift, but an entire Royal Guard lance is most unexpected indeed.” His face gained a worried expression. “Is there some kind of problem?”

  “No, no,” Dovell said reassuringly. “We are here for an investigation.”

  “I see,” Uziel said. He nervously fiddled with his fingers, not seeming reassured at all.

  “A critical investigation under direct order of the King,” Dovell continued. “We will be staying until the next shift at least, possibly longer, so we will require a place to stay.”

  “We also brought the mail,” Rooy added, holding up a linen bag.

  Uziel accepted the bag without saying anything, clearly at a loss for what he should do.

  “I'll take care of this, Uziel,” the female channeller said, stepping forward.

  “Oh,” Uziel stuttered. “Alright, Tess, I leave it in your hands then.” He scurried out of the room, clutching the mail bag close to his chest.

  The woman turned to face Dovell. “My name is Tess Huijver. I can show you to a place where you can stay.” She smiled in a disarming manner.

  Dovell eyed her for a moment. Huijver. Galondian last name. I didn't know even people from Galond settled here. The red hair makes it obvious though.

  “Good,” Dovell said. “Lead the way.”

  As they moved through the building, Dovell carefully examined his surroundings. He could tell it was a large place, one built before the Second Bane, as there was no way the pioneers would have had the means to build this. The hallways were wide and spacious and they passed several rooms with high ceilings. Most rooms were empty, though, and everything was built from the same dull grey rock apart from the wooden beams, which had a peculiar auburn tint.

  Tess noticed Dovell looking at the ceiling beams. “Ancient Ironwood,” she said. “Every piece of wood in this building is like that. It's the reason it isn't a ruin like the rest of the city. The ministry is using it for its local branch.”

  “This Ironwood is a transmogrif?” Dovell asked.

  “We believe so, yes,” Tess answered. “But we have few magistrae here, so we don't really have the time to study such things.”

  “What about expeditions, then?” Dovell asked. “Certainly you have plenty of visiting magistrae from Gerios who are eager to pour over Hertwolf's secrets.”

  A chuckle escaped Tess' lips. “There are plenty of those alright, but they don't care about anything but their own research.”

  “Even so,” Dovell said, trying to sound neutral, “do you perhaps recall an expedition from a guild called White Candle?”

  Tess gave it some thought, but then shook her head. “Sorry, I don't. Did they arrive by blueshift?”

  “They did not.”

  “Then I don't know,” Tess said, “but I know who probably does. A scribe who works at the registration office called Lavion. Every expedition that enters the city goes past him.”

  “Much obliged,” Dovell thanked her.

  It didn't take long for them to reach a heavy wooden double door, again made of Ancient Ironwood, which Tess swung open. A cold draught immediately entered the hall, causing Dovell to shiver despite his woollen tunic. Even though the Wastes were generally warmer than most lands this far north, it was still much colder here than it was in Rios.

  Before them lay a large stone square constructed out of nothing but broken tiles. At some points small trees had made their way through the cracks, and there were low bushes everywhere. Around the square Dovell glimpsed the remains of buildings, some still standing, but most of them collapsed and none of them with roofs.

  The thing that drew Dovell's immediate attention, however, was the large, solitary tower that stood in the centre of the square. Though he had never seen it before, he immediately knew what it was.

  The Tower of the Demon.

  In his imagination, it had looked different. More menacing, with pointy spikes tall enough to reach into the clouds, and windows that glowed with an infernal red light. Instead it was a rather dull, dark-grey building that contrasted strongly with the bright blue sky behind it.

  It's not very high either, only twelve floors at most. It looks like a big tower mill without the cap.

  “Is this your first visit to Hertwolf?” Tess asked as they entered the square and started to move in the direction of the Tower.

  “It is,” Dovell said. “For all of us.”

  “In that case, there are some things you should know,” Tess said. “The most important thing is don't use any high magic within city limits.”

  “High magic?” Dovell asked with a questioning look.

  “Oh, I'm sorry,” she said. “You wouldn't know, of course. High magic is any third-tier spell or higher along with a small selection of rank eleven spells as well. Basically, any spell that increases volatility in noticeable amounts.”

  “You mean a spell like a blueshift portal?” Dovell asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “There are some exceptions,” Tess replied. “Our blueshifting is authorized by the Demon as long as we do it in the current location. Both pressure and volatility are greatly dampened around the Tower, so the effects of the blueshift are far less severe here than on the other side of the shift. We do need twice the people to cast it, though.” She raised four fingers in the air, signifying the number. “But anyway, as I was saying, to be on the safe side you should refrain from casting anything excitable. If you want an exact list of what you can and cannot cast, check with the scribe office.”

  “What happens otherwise?” Dovell asked, though he had gathered that it wasn't anything good.

  “The Demon comes,” Tess said simply. Her smile vanished as she said it and her eyes became serious. “He always knows if you cause such havoc in the ?ther, no matter where you are. It's how he finds the Akarvi, the horrors and ghasts that roam the Wastes.”

  Dovell was going to ask what exactly happened when the Demon came, when something in the distance caught his eye. “By the ?ther,” he said. “Is that one of the lodestones?” He pointed at a massive rock that stood on top of a hill far away.

  “Yes, that's the Monolith,” Tess said. “The Lodestone of Aspect.”

  Dovell turned around to look at the other five men, and noticed they were already staring at the other lodestones.

  Even though he had never been to Hertwolf, he had heard about its unique layout. The ruined city was situated on top of seven hills, six of them equally grouped around the seventh, which held the Tower of the Demon. The other six formed the base for six massive stones, the lodestones, each made out of a different material that represented one of the six elements of the ?ther.

  “They all have names?” Nissek asked. He was staring at an immense crystal rock that reflected the sunlight in all directions, making it shimmer as if a steady stream of water was flowing down its surface.

  “Yes,” Tess said as she pointed towards the crystal. “That's the Standing Sun, which represents Radiance. It absorbs light during the day and radiates it back out at night. So it's never truly dark there.” She turned slightly. “And there lays the Heart Tree, which represents Wonder.”

  “That is one big tree,” Tobiac said, looking at the gathering of tree trunks that swirled around an unseen centre in a wild chaos of branches and leaves.

  “It is,” Tess said. “It's rooted inside the Heart of Marl beneath it. A soft white stone.”

  She pointed out the rest as if lecturing a class. “Over there is the Weeping Maiden, which represents Flux; the Guardian, which represents Quintessence; and finally the Mausoleum, which represents Entropy.”

  “Isn't that a building rather than a stone?” Nissek asked as he narrowed his eyes to look at it.

  Dovell raised his arm to shield his eyes from the sun. The Mausoleum was indeed some kind of building with a shallow triangular roof.

  “That one is a bit different,” Tess said, who had started to walk again. “The Mausoleum is just the cover; its what's inside that attracts the Entropy around it—and before you ask, we don't know what's in there. Which brings me to the second thing you should know.”

  She turned to the men and raised both hands in the air with seven fingers extended. “There are seven locations in the city that are absolutely off-limits to everyone. The lodestones, and of course that.” She stretched out her arm and pointed towards the Tower of the Demon. They were standing very close to it now and Dovell noticed a stairway coiling itself around the outside of the Tower all the way to the top.

  Tess halted next to the bottom of it and pointed upwards. “Ascending this stairway is the same as killing yourself,” she stated coldly. “If the Demon catches you climbing the Tower, he will kill you without warning or hesitation. He doesn't take kindly to intruders in his home.”

  Bastian took a step backwards, away from the Tower. “Should we be standing here, then?” he asked nervously.

  Normally Dovell would have admonished Bastian for appearing to lack confidence in public, but in this instance he shared Bastian's sentiment. While the Tower didn't look menacing, it certainly felt that way—all the more now that they were so close to it. It was a feeling that tightened his chest with a dark sense of dread; a sense of hollow emptiness as if one's life force was being drained.

  Tess smiled again. “As long we aren't doing anything to the Tower itself, it's fine,” she reassured Bastian. “The same goes for the lodestones. You can walk right up to them, but keep your hands off and no magic.”

  Then her face darkened once more. “Those expeditions you mentioned earlier frequently include people who do not heed these rules. Just three months ago, we had a group of six out of Jaristad. I don't know exactly what they were planning, but they tried to climb the Tower in the middle of the night while the Demon was away slaying Akarvi.” She paused for a moment to look towards the top of the Tower. “Or so they thought. We found what was left of them the next day.” She pointed towards a nearby area on the ground. The tiles there were covered with a dark-brown stain.

  Dried blood, Dovell realized.

  “It kills people?” Rooy asked with a look of shock. “And you just let it?”

  Before Tess could answer, Dovell spoke. “This is the Frontier, Rooy. People dying by the hands of an ?ther being is a regular occurrence here, and unlike the Demon, most of them don't come with a set of rules governing what you can and cannot do. If you act foolishly here, you'll get hurt or worse, and you will only have yourself to blame for it.” He gestured at the Tower. “And besides, I highly doubt anyone in this city would be able to kill the Demon even if they wanted to, which I'm certain they don't as it is still the only thing that stands between here and the more formidable horrors that exist beyond the Frontier.”

  “I understand, sir,” Rooy said, cowed.

  Tess looked surprised at Dovell's words. “Did you used to live on the Frontier, Guard-captain?”

  “I was a burcht blade at Cariburg for four years,” Dovell replied, “but that was a long time ago.”

  “I see,” Tess said. “I must say, that eases some of my worries.”

  “How so?” Dovell asked.

  “If you all had been...” she paused for a moment. “Well, we refer to people who don't understand the dangers we face here as 'citizens'. If you all had been citizens, you might have tried to do something stupid regardless of my words. Like those fools I just mentioned.”

  “You don't have to worry about that,” Nissek said, shifting around uncomfortably from one leg to another. “Just standing here has convinced me completely of the truth of your warning.”

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  Tess smirked. “Glad to hear it. That's why we always take first-time blueshift visitors here first. And with that out of the way, we can move on.”

  Dovell felt relieved as they left the Tower behind them. He resolved to make certain that this mission would not cause anything that might stir the Demon's ire.

  When they arrived at the bottom of the hill, they started to encounter more people. Most of them were workers that were busy clearing out rubble, loading it in carts that moved down towards the river, which ran through the valley between the hills. There the rubble was placed on flat-bottom barges, which carried it away. The bank of the river itself was cleared of any ruins and they passed by a long row of newly constructed brick buildings.

  “Here we are,” Tess said, opening the door of a large two-storey building.

  The Riverspike Inn, Dovell read on a shoddy sign placed next to the door. Sounds comforting.

  Inside they were greeted by a stout black-haired man with a bushy moustache that was only exceeded in width by his vast stomach.

  “Tess, my girl,” he said, draping a cleaning rag over his shoulder. “You've finally come to visit me again?” He then fell silent for a moment as he spotted Dovell and the others. “And you brought guests, I see,” he added in a more careful tone.

  “Hello, Toll,” Tess said. “This is Guard-captain Messchiel of the Royal Guard and his men.”

  Toll thoughtfully nodded. “A Royal Guard lance, yes I see.” Then a jovial smile appeared on his face. “Welcome to my humble inn, gentlemen. I'm pleased that you decided to choose my establishment.”

  “They didn't,” Tess said dryly. “I brought them here as I knew you have room.”

  “Indeed I do,” Toll said. “Though I have no rooms smaller than for two people.”

  “That will be fine,” Dovell said. “We will be staying at least until the next blueshift, which is in four days I believe.” He looked at Tess, who nodded in response. “So, four nights at least.” He took out his wallet. “How much for a room?”

  “Each room is two florins per night,” Toll said, without changing his expression. “This includes two meals a day.”

  “I'm sure you meant to say two florins for all three rooms per night,” Dovell said sharply. “As I recall from my time as a burcht blade, I've never seen an inn on the Frontier that charged more than three coppers for a room.”

  “Of course, Guard-captain,” Toll said hurriedly. “Two florins per night for all three rooms is indeed what I meant.”

  And still too expensive.

  However, Dovell did not feel like bickering over it, so he took a thaler and three florins from his purse and placed them in Toll's hand. “I assume those two meals a day will both be warm?” he asked with a look of disdain on his face.

  “Of course,” Toll said as he stuffed the coins into one of his pockets. “Nothing but the best for the kingdom's finest.”

  “I'll be on my way, then,” Tess said, opening the door. “See you in four days.” The door closed with a soft jingle.

  “If you would follow me, please,” Toll said, beckoning Dovell and the others.

  Dovell's room was a sober affair. Apart from the two beds and a single small closet, there was no other furniture. The mattresses on the beds were filled with tufted wool as the box-spring mattress, already common in Rios, had yet to reach the Frontier.

  “Not exactly the lap of luxury,” Tobiac said as he placed his pack on one of the beds.

  “It's better than I expected,” Dovell said as he opened the window. “And it's clean, at least.” A cold breeze rushed past his face and he inhaled deeply. It smelled similar to the air he remembered from Cariburg, yet different as well. There was far more dust in the air here, mixed with the humid scent of the Wodan, the nearby river that ran through the city. The Frontier might make a good place to retire at old age if it wasn't for all the monsters running around.

  Dovell closed the window and turned around. “It's not too expensive either.”

  “I'm surprised he charged us to begin with,” Tobiac said. “Instead he even tried to fleece us. Or isn't it true what you said about inns at the Frontier?”

  “No, that was true,” Dovell said. “But keep in mind that this isn't Gerios. Our authority here is only a minute portion of what we normally have, if we have any at all. King Mischell may have started the reclamation of the Wastes, but he never paid much attention to it beyond that. Only the burchts near the Crystal River enjoyed direct support from Gerios, and once the Frontier moved beyond that, the pioneers were on their own. They hold little loyalty to Gerios as a result.”

  “I always thought of the Wastes as part of Gerios,” Tobiac said. “I was taught that way.”

  “They are part of the kingdom, but only in name,” Dovell said. “When it comes to hearts and minds, the Wastes are their own nation.”

  “I suppose the people who live here didn't like living in Gerios much in the first place,” Tobiac said. “Why come here otherwise?”

  “They didn't,” Dovell agreed. “During the food riots sixteen years ago, a lot of people migrated to the Wastes and they definitely hold no love for Gerios.”

  A situation that might very well lead to armed conflict in the future, Dovell thought grimly, though he took care not to share that thought with Tobiac.

  He retrieved a rolled-up scroll from his pack. “Let's go meet up with the others.”

  In the dining room, Dovell and Tobiac found the others seated at a large round table.

  “Nissek, the voicesphere,” Dovell said as he pulled up a chair.

  “Sir,” Nissek said. He rummaged through his rune pouch to find it.

  Dovell looked around the dining room. It was empty apart from them, but he wasn't going to take any chances. The news that a Royal Guard lance had arrived in Hertwolf would be known by everyone in the city before dusk, and many among them would be eager to know the exact reason for their arrival, something that Dovell wanted to avoid addressing for as long as possible. Eavesdroppers were everywhere, and from the corner of his eye Dovell could see Toll standing nearby, washing some glasses and trying to look inconspicuous. There's one here already.

  “Well then,” Dovell said after Nissek finished the Voicesphere spell. “You know the details of the mission, so I'll just remind you of the outline. The Whisper uncovered some information regarding an item that was brought to White Candle by one of their expeditions only three days before their disappearance. They confirmed that at least Hyna was after this item, and they have a strong suspicion that it was the reason White Candle was later attacked by the dark assailants.”

  Dovell unrolled his scroll, revealing a crudely drawn map of the Wastes. “Fortunately, the Whisper managed to find out where the expedition obtained this mystery item.” He placed a finger on the map a short distance north of Hertwolf. “There is a small set of ruins here, a minor temple complex from before the Second Bane. Our mission is to find out what it was they found there, so we need to speak to scouts, carriers, guards, anyone that accompanied that expedition to see what they know.”

  He rolled the scroll back up. “Questions?”

  All the men remained silent, so Dovell continued. “We'll split up in pairs. Harra and Tobiac will take care of the taverns and the inns. Rooy and Nissek will check the ranger guild, and Bastian and I will try to find this Lavion person Tess mentioned.”

  “How discreet should we be, sir?” Nissek asked. “Are there things we shouldn't mention?”

  Dovell shrugged. “Keep the finer details to yourself, but don't hold back if you think it might lead to a valid clue. By tomorrow, the inhabitants will have put the pieces together regardless. Just don't mention that we are looking for a specific item until we found some people who actually could have seen it.”

  “Do we also need to investigate this temple complex, sir?” Rooy asked.

  “If needed,” Dovell said, “but I hope we can avoid having to do that as I'm not eager to be north of the Frontier.” He straightened his uniform. “If there isn't anything else, then let's begin. I'd prefer to have this over and done with before the next blueshift.”

  A short walk later, Dovell and Bastian reached the south road that snaked its way up Entropy hill. It was a road from before the Second Bane, though it was in much better shape than the plaza back at the Tower of the Demon. Any plant life had been removed and the gaps and holes were filled with gravel, making the road at least usable for carts.

  According to Toll, the registration office could be found at the end of this road at the top of the hill, where the road led on towards the south and the inhabited parts of the Wastes. Odd place for a scribe office, Dovell thought as he peered to the top. Wouldn't it be easier to build it in the valley?

  The entire lower side of the hill was covered with simple clay-brick shacks that housed the settlers of Hertwolf as the rubble that was the rest of the city was slowly being cleared. The inhabitants were mostly young families, and many nearby children stopped their play to eye Dovell's and Bastian's uniforms as they passed by.

  “Not much of a city so far,” Bastian said. “How many people live here now? Three hundred? Four?”

  “Probably more,” Dovell replied. “You'd be amazed how many people can fit in such a small shack.”

  “Pioneering sure is a harsh life,” Bastian said. “You live in a shack and spend most of your day cleaning rubble.”

  “True,” Dovell said, “but those who are first also have the best claims to land, so for many people it's worth it; especially if you come from a life with similar living conditions.” He glanced at a group of women standing around a washing tub. “And don't forget that because of the Demon, this place is much safer than the rest of the Frontier. I expect this hill to be entirely covered with shacks like this within a few years.”

  As they approached the top of the hill, Dovell stopped for a moment to get a better look at the Mausoleum. It was a large and straightforward building constructed out of the same grey rock every old building in this city was made from. The walls had no openings and there were no decorations apart from some carvings on the lintel. The door beneath was made out of a pitch-black material that Dovell did not recognize.

  “I wonder what's inside,” Bastian said with a pondering look on his face.

  “Believe me,” Dovell said grimly, “that is one thing we are better off not knowing.”

  The road did not continue on to the Mausoleum. Instead, it swerved away, circling around it by a wide margin. It seemed that even before the Second Bane, this lodestone was a place to avoid.

  They found the scribe office located at the highest point of the road, easily recognizable as it was the only building there apart from the Mausoleum. It had a large open counter in the wall facing the road and a young man with long brown braided hair was sitting behind it.

  “Greetings,” the man said as Dovell approached. “You are members of the Royal Guard lance that arrived today, yes?”

  Dovell bristled. He knows about that already?

  “Greetings,” Dovell replied, suppressing his annoyance. “I am Guard-captain Messchiel from the Royal Guard Fifth Lance, as you surmised. I'm looking for a man called Lavion.”

  “That's me,” the man said. “You want some information about an expedition that came through here, yes? The one from the guild that disappeared in Rios?”

  Dovell huffed. I forgot how starved for news everyone on the Frontier is. “We do. It concerns an expedition that was here somewhere around the end of last month. The White Candle guild from Rios.”

  “Ah, yes,” Lavion said. “I remember their visit quite well, but let me make certain all the same.” He reached beneath the counter and produced a small tome. “Let's see,” he mumbled while swiftly scanning its pages, eventually placing his finger on one of them. “White Candle magic guild. Seated in the White Candle in Rios. Arrived the thirty-fourth of the First month. Left the fortieth.”

  “That's them,” Dovell said. “Why do you remember them?”

  “Well, for starters because of their disappearance, but magistrae tend to stand out in any case,” Lavion said, putting the tome away. “And not always in a good way. Two moons ago, an expedition from Jaristad came here and managed to get themselves all killed. The rumour goes that they tried to place some kind of tracking spell on the Demon.”

  “We heard,” Dovell said dryly.

  “Nasty affair, that was,” Lavion said, stroking his chin. “But to answer your question, I can remember them because when they arrived they told me that they would stay for several weeks, yet they only stayed for six days. I heard from one of my fellow scribes who tagged along with them on their trip north that they found something that warranted an immediate return to Rios.”

  That confirms that there indeed was an item. “We would like to speak to this scribe,” Dovell said.

  “Ah, that's not possible, I'm afraid,” Lavion said, folding his hands. “She left for Teliya two weeks ago. Apparently there was a death in the family and she needed to be there to take care of things.”

  Teliya burcht, Dovell thought, drawing a map of the Wastes in his mind's eye. That's a coastal burcht, if I recall. Not exactly close by.

  “That's unfortunate,” Dovell said. “Do you know of any others who accompanied this expedition to the north?”

  “I know the two rangers that went with them,” Lavion said. “Hajib Ponjeh and Utial Rennzon.” He paused for a moment as if thinking. “I haven't seen either of them for a while, but the rangers' guild should be able to tell you where they are at the moment.”

  “Anyone else?” Dovell said as he scribbled down the names in a small notebook.

  “They also took some carriers with them, but that's all,” Lavion replied. “I have no idea who they are. Could be any of the workmen wanting a break from clearing rubble.”

  “They didn't take any guards?” Dovell asked with raised eyebrows.

  “There was no need,” Lavion said. “They were headed for some old ruin that was still within the safe area the Demon maintains around Hertwolf.” He smirked “And if they planned to go beyond that, then a handful of guards wouldn't be much use either. Not against the things that roam there.”

  “Nobody takes guards across the Frontier?” Dovell asked, slightly surprised. That was different from what he remembered from his own experiences. Anyone who wasn't a burcht blade or a ranger was always accompanied by at least one or more of them.

  “Not around Hertwolf, no,” Lavion said. “And besides, they were magistrae themselves, so not completely defenceless either I assume.”

  Dovell nodded. “So no banditry problems either, I take it?”

  Lavion laughed, shaking his head. “Bandits north of the Frontier? They would have to be insane. Who would they want to rob anyway? Everyone who lives here is equally poor; the only thing this place has in abundance is leaf turnips and ruined buildings.”

  “I assumed as much,” Dovell said. “Was there anything else notable about them that you can recall?”

  Lavion tilted his head back and stared at the sky. “No, sorry,” he said eventually. “I only saw them when they arrived and when they departed. If you want to know more, you should ask the two rangers I mentioned.”

  “I will do so,” Dovell said. “And if you could indulge me another unrelated question: why did you construct this office here? Wouldn't it be more convenient to construct it in the valley near the river?”

  “It would,” Lavion agreed. “However, we are expecting many settlers to arrive in the coming year, and they will all come from the south road.” He pointed his finger in that direction. “It will be a while before the ruins are all cleared away so we can build the city proper. No high magic, after all.”

  He moved his finger to point in the direction of the Tower. “This entire hillside will be filled with shacks in the coming years, and then this place will offer a central location with a good view.”

  I see they are expecting lots of new arrivals. Makes me wonder what the situation in northern Gerios is like these days. It appears they have not forgotten what happened in the past. And I suppose that makes sense. All those children that survived the famine are adults now.

  “You said that this is the only road south?” Dovell asked. “Is there no road going around this hill instead?”

  “There is one going between Entropy and Essence hill, but it's impassable at the moment.” Lavion leaned forward over the counter and pointed towards the lodestone of Quintessence.

  “If you look closely, you can see the edge of the Guardian's cleft,” he said. “It goes right through the valley road as well and there is no bridge as of yet. Hence no passage.”

  As directed, Dovell surveyed the hill closely. Unlike the others, this one had no structures on it that he could see. Instead it was entirely covered with a dense forest.

  At the top of the hill, near the Guardian, the tree-line suddenly dropped significantly lower, suggesting there was a gap between where no trees grew. The cleft, Dovell thought. That must be quite the ravine if it reaches from up there all the way down to the valley.

  He turned back to Lavion. “So this is the only way a caravan can enter the city?”

  Lavion nodded. “I can't speak for those on foot, but if you have any sort of cart or carriage with you, this road is the only way.”

  Dovell brought his hand up to shield his eyes and gazed into the distance towards the south. At the bottom of the hill the road snaked through the stumps of felled trees until it disappeared into the wild forest beyond.

  “Guard-captain?” Lavion said with an apologetic tone. “If you don't mind me asking, why do you carry a greatsword? Isn't that impractical in an urban environment?”

  Dovell turned back to face the scribe. “It's an heirloom from my great uncle. It was commissioned for him nearly forty years ago. One of the first granted to the Royal Guard.”

  Dovell again gazed across the wilderness in the distance. “I believe that was the same year the Frontier was started.”

  “Ah,” Lavion said, nodding in an understanding manner. “That long ago, huh. They wouldn't have been able to make a smaller runeblade back then.” He hesitated. “Would you mind showing it to me? Old weapons are an interest of mine.”

  “Of course,” Dovell said, pulling Bellphon out of its scabbard and presenting it to the scribe. He did not mind showing the sword to others on request, as he was proud of the weapon and the history it represented. That same pride was the main reason he carried it instead of the standard arming swords the rest of the lance used. It was proof of his authority.

  “Most exquisite,” Lavion said, the admiration clear in his voice as he looked over the blade. “You can actually see the ley points.” He looked back at Dovell. “Is it a named sword too?”

  Dovell nodded. “Bellphon.”

  “Ah yes, I recognize the monogram now. Evian Sonnat. He named all the swords he created, though he did not create many of them. This is my first time seeing one of his hand. It is quite a rare piece you have here. Aren't you worried it might be damaged?”

  “This weapon was made to be used,” Dovell said. “If it is destroyed during combat, then that will be its proper fate.”

  “Of course, Guard-captain,” Lavion said hurriedly. “I meant no offence.”

  “None was taken,” Dovell said, sheathing the weapon. “Was there anything else?”

  “Nothing at all; thank you for showing me your sword.” Lavion bowed lightly.

  “And thank you for your time,” Dovell said. “You've been most helpful. Good day.” He beckoned Bastian to follow him.

  As they walked back down the hill, Bastian looked pensive. “There is something I don't understand, sir,” he said. ”If the expedition was in such a hurry to return, then why didn't they blueshift back to Rios? That would have saved them weeks.”

  Dovell nodded. “I've been wondering about that myself. The only reason I can come up with is that they couldn't take the item they found through the blueshift. Possibly because it was too large and couldn't fit through the gateway. We have no idea what its actual size might have been, after all.”

  “They can make a shift gateway bigger though, right?” Bastian said.

  “Yes,” Dovell said, rubbing his chin, “but you need dispensation from the ministry for that, which means stating why you need it enlarged.”

  “And they probably wouldn't want to say,” Bastian said, nodding.

  “No,” Dovell said. “Nevertheless, it wasn't something that stood out. That's why I asked Lavion about the state of the roads. If this is the only decent road out of Hertwolf, then the item must have gone past him, yet he doesn't remember seeing anything out of the ordinary. This suggests that our mystery item was something that could be easily hidden from notice or did not appear noteworthy to begin with.”

  An annoyed expression appeared on his face. “Either way, it doesn't really help us. Unless we find someone who was with that expedition, we won't get anywhere with this.”

  “So, where now, sir?” Bastian said. “The rangers' guild?”

  “No,” Dovell said. “Let Rooy and Bastian handle that. We should talk to some of the people in the shacks here. Maybe somebody knows one of those carriers Lavion spoke of.”

  As luck would have it, they found such a person in the form of a robust woman with two small children clinging to her skirts, carrying a baby in her arms.

  “I know one of those you seek,” the woman said. “He was my neighbour for a long time.” She waved her free arm towards one of the shacks behind her. “Alas, he does not live here anymore. He and his wife decided to move back south to one of the burchts there. She was pregnant with her first and they didn't want to raise the child here.” She frowned. “A foolish notion, if you ask me.”

  They left? A tingle of suspicion formed in Dovell's mind. “When did they leave?”

  “About eleven days ago, maybe twelve,” the woman said as she switched the baby to her other arm. “So you just missed them.”

  The scribe Lavion mentioned also left the city around that time. Was that a coincidence?

  “Did their departure seem sudden to you?” Dovell asked.

  The woman thought for a moment. “Somewhat, yes,” she eventually said. “They always talked about how bad their life used to be in Gerios and how happy they were to have finally come here. I remember asking them why they came all the way to the Frontier, as a young family is welcome at almost every burcht between here and the Crystal River. They said they came here because Hertwolf offered the best long-term prospects to be an independent family. At a burcht you are stuck as a servant or small farmer at best, unless you know a craft. Here you can be a citizen, possibly a landowner.” She smirked. “Only a few more years.”

  “Then why did they go back?”

  “The Frontier changed him,” the woman said, her expression turning grim. “A whole other world exists there, one that can change a person in ways they can't even imagine. When he went beyond the Frontier, he probably saw something that made him run away from here.” Her posture swelled in confidence to support her words. “The same thing happened to my cousin. The tempest struck him in the head after he got lost north of the Frontier once. The tishe said it was the berries he ate, but I know better. He was cursed, I tell you.”

  “Do you know which burcht they were headed for?” Dovell quickly asked before the woman felt compelled to share more stories about her no doubt extensive family.

  “They didn't say,” the woman said. “I just assumed they went for Nennen burcht as they are short on people over there with most of the new arrivals coming here instead.”

  “Thank you for your time,” Dovell said, beckoning Bastian to follow him.

  “Are we going to continue looking, sir?” Bastian asked when they reached the main road again.

  “No. We are going back,” Dovell said. “I have a bad feeling about these sudden departures, and I want to know what the others have found so far.”

  Back at the inn they found that the rest of the lance had also returned, and were waiting at the back of the dining room for dinner to be served. Unlike earlier, the room was filled with people now, and Dovell could tell from their behaviour the reason for their presence.

  It's like we are some kind of show.

  Toll approached him with wide open arms. “Guard-captain, I've prepared the finest dinner for you and your men. Please be seated.”

  “In a moment, I need to change my clothes first.” The trip they had taken between the shacks had left a queer smell on his outfit, one that he didn't care to experience while he was eating.

  After he had changed in his room, he sat down at the table with the rest where Nissek was preparing the voicesphere.

  “Report,” Dovell said, taking the opportunity to fill his mug with a sweet-smelling beer.

  Nissek began. “We found out that two rangers accompanied the expedition north, but neither of them is in the city at the moment, so we couldn't follow that up.”

  With a loud thud Dovell placed the mug back on the table. “That's what I feared hearing you say.”

  “Sir?” Nissek asked, bewildered.

  Dovell retrieved his notebook and thumbed to the correct page. “Are these two rangers named Hajib Ponjeh and Utial Rennzon?”

  “Yes, they are,” Nissek said, still confused.

  “And they both left the city around two weeks ago?”

  “Well, as the guild master told me, Hajib went on a ranging twelve days ago. He's the cousin of that scribe we met when we arrived here, by the way. The other ranger, Utial, went to visit Linia burcht for some reason a day before that. Apparently he served there before, so the guild master assumed he wanted to visit some friends there. No exact reason was given, just that it was something personal.”

  “And when are they expected to return?”

  “Utial should have returned already as Linia burcht is only two days away from here. The guild master sent out another ranger to find him the day before yesterday. Hajib should return in two days, three at the latest.”

  Dovell sighed. It's as I feared. A feeling of despair washed over him, yet he kept his face in check. While the patrons on the nearby tables could not hear Dovell speak, they could see his expressions. He didn't need a bunch of outrageous rumours on top of the current situation.

  Always look like you are in control even if you're not. A lesson impressed on him often by his own guard-captain when he was still a regular guard.

  “What did you find, Tobiac?” Dovell said, drinking a large gulp of the sweet liquid. Honey beer. Best not to drink too much of that.

  Tobiac cleared his throat. “There are only two inns and one tavern here, so we were finished pretty quickly. We found out about two carriers who accompanied the expedition.”

  “And let me guess,” Dovell interrupted him, putting down his mug. “They also left the city suddenly.”

  “Well, no, sir,” Tobiac said hesitantly. “They're dead. Crushed when one of the ruins they were working on collapsed on top of them. Killed six men including them.”

  “When?” Dovell asked quietly.

  “About two weeks ago,” Tobiac said, looking worried that he might have said something he shouldn't. “I don't know an exact date.”

  “I don't understand, sir,” Nissek said. “Are you suggesting that something happened to all these people?”

  “I am,” Dovell replied. “Bastian and I heard the same thing. A scribe that suddenly left to deal with a death in her family, and another carrier we found who packed everything up to head back south with his wife.”

  He took another gulp of his beer before he continued. “Which means that so far every person that we know of that accompanied that expedition north has left this city one way or another, and all in the span of a few days. That's too close to be coincidence. Especially if you consider that they all started to disappear only a few days after White Candle did, so I can only assume they were all forced to leave somehow and then dealt with.”

  “So those rangers...” Nissek started with a frown on his face.

  “Dead, probably,” Dovell said. “I'm not expecting either of them to return.”

  “But how is that possible?” Bastian asked with wide open eyes. “Why didn't anyone notice this?”

  “Don't look so distressed, Bastian,” Dovell said, frowning. “People will see.” He gestured to some of the nearby patrons who were clearly following the conversation with interest even though they could not hear it.

  “Sorry, sir,” Bastian said, straightening his face.

  “I'll admit it is rather an insidious plan,” Dovell said. “Every one of these people had a plausible reason for their departure, so it gave no cause for alarm. It also happened weeks after the expedition itself, so it's not strange that nobody realized the connection between the two.”

  “Making people disappear like that is not something you can do easily,” Rooy said. “It would take an organized group to pull this off.” He drew a circle on the table with his fingers. “I can't even figure out how one would do something like that to begin with.”

  “Some kind of high-tier magic, most likely,” Dovell said. “Which makes it obvious who was responsible.”

  “Our dark assailants,” Nissek said, nodding. “I agree it fits. Unknown magic; well organized; going to great lengths to eliminate all traces of themselves; and they have a motive as well.”

  The men shared a moment of silence as Toll approached with a large cooking pot, which he placed in the centre of the table.

  “Here you go, gentlemen,” Toll said, smiling broadly. “How is your day so far? Any luck with your investigation?”

  “We are not at liberty to discuss such things with outsiders,” Dovell said bluntly.

  “I see,” Toll said with a hint of disappointment. “Well, I will let you enjoy your meal then.”

  “This is the finest dinner they have?” Rooy said disdainfully, taking the lid off the pot as Toll left the table. “It's just stew.”

  “Is there meat in it?” Dovell asked.

  “I think so,” Rooy replied after examining a scoop.

  “Then it's the best they can offer,” Dovell said. “Let's eat first.”

  The stew was decent, yet Dovell ate it without tasting anything. In the back of his mind he had already feared they would find signs of evidence being erased, yet what they had discovered went way beyond his expectations. Up until now he had assumed that one of Rios' magic guilds had been responsible, but this latest discovery changed everything.

  There is no way that any of those guilds has influence that reaches this far. For them to do something like this, they would need a specially trained cadre of weavers and casters that could be used in combat and covert operations.

  Since the Callium Imperatus Schism, guilds were forbidden to form such cadres. If one of them had then the Whisper, despite their current lack of competence, would have noticed for certain. People who had a strong talent for channelling ?ther tended to stand out.

  But if not one of the guilds, then who? Dovell thought, feeling lost. Who could possibly do all this and go this far doing it? And can the answers to these questions even be found here anymore?

  Despite his uncertainty, Dovell realized he couldn't just give up. If he left here with empty hands, the only thing left was to wait for the White Candle sanctum wards to fail; and who knew what would happen then?

  The long odds it is then.

  Dovell scraped the last morsel of food from his plate. “We're going to travel to the expedition site tomorrow morning,” he said, placing his spoon on the table. “I have little hope that we can find anything there, but it's better than staying here chasing ghosts.”

  “We're not going to follow up on the missing people?” Nissek asked.

  “No,” Dovell said. “I consider that a dead end. If it all turns out to be a coincidence, then at least one of those two rangers should be back here before we blueshift back to Rios.” He picked up a napkin to clean his mouth. “Nissek, you and Rooy go back to the rangers' guild and ask if they can spare someone for the next few days.”

  “Yes sir,” Nissek said.

  “The rest of you, go to bed early,” Dovell commanded. “I need everyone as rested as possible before we venture beyond the Frontier.”