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  She wasn’t looking forward to trying to pour from it into the three uncracked cups they still had. As with fetching the water, pouring from the jug was a task Ermolt usually handled at each meal due to his unparalleled strength.

  Athala closed the door behind her and then paused, looking out over the obstacle course of cots that she had so easily hopped across before. There was no way. Carrying the jug across an empty room would have been no issue. Navigating it through a cluttered room may have proven to be an awkward challenge. But somehow carrying it over the three mats without dropping any water and also without treading on their blankets and pillows—it was impossible.

  She put the jug down and evaluated the situation. Perhaps she could move the mats. They were little more than straw and wood. If she were to turn them to overlap one another—a crash from the kitchen interrupted her thoughts.

  “Athala!” Ermolt shouted in a tone that said so much more than just her name.

  They’d been found.

  There was no hesitation. Athala sprinted forward, vaulting each of the mats as easily as she breathed. The vessel of water forgotten by the door. Abandoned. Athala turned the corner, the words of a spell already on her lips as her hands danced their elegant dance to draw magical energies to fuel the draconian words.

  They wouldn’t be able to escape this time. But Athala refused to go back to Auernheim without a fight.

  Chapter Four

  Elise struggled to keep up with the host. She jogged behind them for a few blocks, keeping to the alleyways and shadows while still matching their pace. At one point she ran down an abandoned side street to get ahead of the host, just so she could observe those who passed her.

  To say that she was worried would have been a massive understatement. These were mostly older, more experienced Conscripts. Their synchronized march was timed almost to perfection without the need for chant to set the pace.

  During her moment of observation, Elise began to pick out familiar faces in the mass of people determined to capture her. It made her homesick for her time at the Temple. These people had been her family for so long. But the wistful feeling faded to nausea when she reminded herself that Hern was in command. There was no way this didn’t end in violence.

  As soon as the majority of the host passed, Elise found herself lingering near the tail of the host to identify the Clerics. She was looking for one in particular.

  Each of their vestments was unique as each Cleric specialized in a certain field and the colors they wore signified their area of study. This group was made up mostly of healers and herbalists—denoted by their various shades of red and green markings, respectively. But there was also a Cleric of History, crisp in their sky blue and white vestments, likely there to record exactly what happened for the posterity of the Temple’s grand library, as well as for the Khule Hall of Records and even for Auernheim or the mortician.

  The thought made Elise’s face pucker.

  The vibrant red and white embroidered hood of Apel’s head was relatively easy to locate among all of the others. Apel was taller and thinner than most of the other bookish Clerics, and she kept her vestments as fresh and pigmented as possible. She was relatively to the front of the group of Clerics, but off to the side enough that Elise thought she could pull the girl aside without alerting her superiors. If Apel didn’t take it upon herself to alert them, that was.

  Apel and Elise had quite a rocky history, especially since Elise had been courted by Apel’s brother, Cuertt, for about a year. During that time the three of them had become inseparable. But they’d had their problems. And their eventual breakup had driven a spike between the three friends, causing Elise to drift away from the siblings. She barely spoke to either of them now.

  Elise hadn’t seen the towheaded Conscript up with the rest of the host, but that had likely been Hern’s call. It was well known that Cuertt and Elise had been involved once before, and it would only make sense that he would be too easy on her. He also wasn’t the most skilled Conscript, although his determination was admirable.

  As for Apel, Elise knew her skills were just too useful to have been left behind. She had uniquely mastered a way of channeling Ydia’s divine light into a way to staunch bleeding wounds. The years of work and study Apel had put into mastering this technique was unparalleled and had given way to rumors that Apel was going to be the youngest Cleric to be promoted to High Cleric, a coveted position among her studious peers.

  But despite their tumultuous past and whatever else that might have happened between them, Apel owed Elise. If not for Elise’s intervention, Apel would have never been able to find Ydia’s Grace and would have instead spent her life servicing paying customers the brothel Hern had sold her to.

  Thinking about Hern’s past transgressions as leader of the Badgers made Elise angry, but she worked hard to squash the feeling. It wasn’t the time or the place, and there definitely wasn’t enough alcohol within reach to help drown the memories.

  There was a good chance Elise could get a little information from Apel without having the whole host called down on her. Apel had been angry at Elise for breaking her brother’s heart, but that had been over a year ago. So if Elise could just confirm that the host was heading to their hideout, she might be able to sprint ahead of them and clear out before they arrived. Or at least warn Ermolt and Athala that the Temple was looking for a real fight this time and not a negotiation.

  Elise squared her shoulders and swallowed her fear. She pulled the hood of her thick cloak closer around her head, hunching over to try and appear a crone. Without enough time to evaluate her plan for the holes it would likely contain, she darted out into the open behind the host, making straight for Apel.

  “Cleric!” she croaked, wincing at how forced the raspy voice sounded to her own ears. She tugged on Apel’s sleeve, startling the girl. “Please help me, Cleric. My grandson has fallen and he is bleeding heavily from his leg. Surely the Grace of Ydia brought you here just in time to save his limb. I need your help!”

  Apel turned to face her, but Elise’s hunch and cloak shrouded her face from the Cleric’s piercing glance. She stopped her march forward and bent to match Elise’s hunch. Elise tilted her head down further. “Forgive me, lady. We have a mission at hand right now, but there are plenty of Clerics still at the Temple. If you just take—oh.”

  Apel’s words died in her throat with that one curious little word as Elise tilted her head back, giving Apel a glimpse under the hood at her familiar face. The two women stared at each other for what seemed like bells. Fear crowded Elise’s thoughts as several emotions crossed the Cleric’s face. Shock. Anger. Frustration. But eventually Apel settled on concern, and Elise let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

  “Brother Ulz,” Apel called out to a man behind her, not breaking eye contact with Elise as she she did so. “I need to help this poor woman’s grandson. I will catch up as quickly as I can.”

  “Of course, Apel,” the man said with a brief chuckle. “I wouldn’t try to stand between you and an injured child. Just don’t take too long. I want you back with us before the fight breaks out.”

  “Of course,” she responded in a tone that was flat and empty. “Come, lady, show me to your grandson so that I might save his life.” The Cleric grasped Elise by her arm in a firm grip and started to lead her away from the group. To any that were watching, it was likely an odd interaction, but Elise was surprised to find no one watched them with curiosity or even concern. So great was Apel’s command and so sure were her companions of her intentions. They suspected she could do no wrong.

  Elise hated her for it.

  The two women ducked down an alley and were barely out of earshot before Apel began to let her concern leak out.

  “What are you thinking?” she hissed, letting go of Elise’s arm with a forceful push. “You need to start running. Right now.”

  “Oh, so this party is for me, then?” Elise said sarcastically, forcing herself to not rub her arm
where the imprints of Apel’s fingers stung her skin. “I mean, I can’t imagine what else it could have been, but I also can’t imagine how the temple tracked us down. We’ve been very careful this time.”

  “Some guards saw the barbarian talking to some kid early this morning,” Apel said with a shake of her head. “They trailed him to your new home and reported back to us. You wouldn’t believe how fast they scrambled this force together. Half of those Conscripts were fast asleep not half a bell ago.”

  “Ermolt, you fool,” Elise said with a groan. She paced back and forth in quick turns, grinding her teeth. “I’ve told him a thousand times we need to be so very careful. What was he thinking?”

  “From the word circulating among the host, it was food.” Apel shrugged and glanced back over her shoulder towards the host. “They’re already trying to come up with a good joke about the enemies of Ydia being brought low by the want of a sack of vegetables.”

  Elise scrunched her nose up and ground her teeth harder, but she couldn’t muster up the will to stay upset at Ermolt and eventually she relaxed with a huffed sigh. If it had been for something frivolous, she would have held onto that anger until she could properly scold him. But Elise herself had been increasingly tempted to take risks for the sake of staving off malnutrition, and she knew he had their best intentions in mind.

  “Please, Elise,” Apel said, interrupting the train of thought. “I know we don’t have long, but please. Tell me what happened. Why did you do it? What could have gotten into your head to make you attack those Guards? I know what the Temple has told us, but I refuse to believe you would be so cruel.”

  Elise shook her head. “I could stand here all day and refute what they’re saying, but you’re right. I don’t have time to get into it. And you wouldn’t believe me anyway. As it is, I have to get ahead of the host and warn my friends so we can escape again.” She wanted to add ‘somehow’ to the end of that statement, but doing so would ruin the bold confidence she was trying to embody.

  “Don’t you get it?” Apel asked with a frustrated sigh. “It’s over this time. Hern is at the head of the host, and his instructions were not terribly vague, if you catch my meaning.”

  Elise tried not to blanch at the reminder, both of Hern’s ability to threaten in colorful, deadly ways, and also of him leading the host. “Don’t count us out yet. The Temple wouldn’t have sent Hern if they didn’t think he was necessary.” The words felt hollow to her ears, but Elise hoped they sounded more confident to Apel.

  The Cleric glared at her for a long moment before she rubbed both of her hands across her face in frustration. “Alright. If you do get there before we do, please consider surrender. He’s likely to accept it.” Apel stepped forward to grasp Elise’s arm once more. “You always had such devotion to Ydia, I know She wouldn’t allow harm to come to you if you put your faith in the Temple.”

  “If the Temple was listening to Her, they wouldn’t be after me,” Elise snapped. “You want to know what we did and why we did it? It was Her. My friends and I are only in this mess by Her command. Her direct command.”

  Apel was silent for a long moment, staring at Elise in disbelief and confusion. It slowly dawned on Elise that she, a Conscript, and a supposedly disgraced one at that, had just claimed a closer relationship to Ydia than a trained and empowered Cleric. And what made the bold statement worse was the fear in Apel’s eyes that what Elise was saying could be true. She would have heard rumors now about the awakened dragon, perhaps even seen Meodryt with her own eyes. How else would the Temple explain that one?

  Still, Elise felt an apology come to her lips. Her instinct was to comfort her childhood friend and to assure her that she was still the most devout of all of Ydia’s followers. But every moment spent on an apology was a moment that Hern closed in on an unprepared Ermolt and Athala.

  “I need to go,” Elise finally said, her voice gruffer than she intended. The Cleric didn’t let go of her arm and so Elise forcefully removed Apel’s grasping fingers. Almost immediately Apel backed away with a hand to her mouth, muttering apologies. Elise swallowed her guilt and forced her heart to ice. “Save your sweet words for those who need them, Cleric. I need to go save Ydia’s champions, including the Bringer of the Age of Mortals, from the wrath of my own idiotic Temple and their bully of a Temple Guard who leads a host against her.”

  Elise paused, rubbing at her forehead briefly. “Thank you for not turning me in,” she added with a bitter chuckle. “I’m glad we’re still friends enough at least for that.”

  Before Apel could respond, Elise broke into a run. She barely gave thought to where her feet were taking her, trusting her instincts to lead her the right way. Instead she only focused on pumping her arms and legs faster and faster, and outrunning the trail of tears she could feel leaking from the corners of her eyes.

  Chapter Five

  Both Hern and Elise had grown up on the streets of Khule. She expected him to know every side street, alleyway, and shortcut that she knew. But Hern was at the head of a forty-person host rather than alone. He couldn’t have led them off the main streets if he wanted to.

  In this way, Elise had a very slight upper hand.

  As Elise ran, her heart hardened once more. She worried—as much as one could while fleeing through the streets in order to save one’s friends—that she hurt Apel’s feelings with her insensitive words. But at the same time, the Cleric had been willingly marching upon the location of the ‘traitors’. She would have tended to wounds inflicted in self-defense. And she would have justified it to herself that she were doing Ydia’s grand work, even if it weren’t true.

  Building after building passed by as she fled down the streets of Khule. Her breath was ragged, but Elise had dressed for stealth and not combat, so she wasn’t bogged down by armor.

  While running, she thought of Apel’s words. The Cleric had asked her why she did what she did. The Temple had told them a story that Apel didn’t believe because she didn’t think Elise would be so cruel. What was it they were being blamed for? Was it just Ingmar? Or had something else happened and they had been blamed for it?

  Elise hadn’t heard anything. No news of Ingmar’s death or of an attack on the Temple. Not even word of the freeing of Meodryt had reached the outside world. As usual, when something important happened, the Temple of Ydia buckled down and kept things quiet.

  But there were the posters. And the armed hosts.

  The people of Khule weren’t stupid. They would know something was going on. But they also knew the Temple would tell them in their own time, as they had for generations. Until then, the people would just watch for the bad people on the posters and continue to choke down whatever the lies the High Priest told them.

  As it neared closer to seventh bell, people started to mill out into the streets. There were jobs to be started, market stalls to visit, and chores to be done. Elise found herself taking less optimal routes to avoid the potential stares, and also to avoid the throngs of brain-dead gawkers who would stop in the middle of the road to watch her pass, causing themselves and others injury.

  This route eventually led her to scramble up the side of a crumbling old carpentry shop to take to the rooftops. From this new vantage point, Elise could see nearly all of the Western Prail District, where she and her companions were staying. She could see the pinpricks of light that marked the host’s torches. It was a sobering and even terrifying sight. Elise had run her hardest for nearly ten blocks, but the lead she had on the host was much slimmer than she had hoped. Even with the urchin’s help.

  It made sense. She was ten years older and quite a bit larger than the last time she had taken to sprinting through the streets of Khule. She would just have to make up time by running across the rooftops.

  Moving across the rooftops meant Elise had to set a slower pace or risk falling a great distance, but it opened up new options for actual mobility that the streets just didn’t have. The buildings of the Western Prail District were nearly solid rows
of houses on each block. Very few stand-alone homes were built in this area of the city, and those that did were all clustered together as if they could become an entirely separate District by grouping together. Elise was easily able to move from street to street by hopping from decking to decking across the small courtyards that the homes shared.

  In less than a quarter of a bell, Elise was able to almost double her lead on the host, but it was still a lead of only blocks. And she still had to get down off the roof.

  Finding a safe and secure way down would have cost her precious moments, so Elise did the only other thing she could think of—she arranged to break into her own home.

  With quick, jerking movements, Elise wrapped her hands in her cloak and lowered herself down over the edge of the parapet wall that lined the flat roofs. She descended along the gutter hand-over-hand, the cloak protecting her hands and the thick fabric keeping her grip steady as she went. Once she made it to the front of the building she swung her lower body back to get a little momentum. The gutter creaked under her grip, but Elise paid it no mind. It would hold long enough, and then after that moment it was no longer important.

  As she completed her third arch backwards, Elise let go of the roof. She curled in on herself as she fell, drawing the thick material of her cloak around the front of her person. Her aim was nearly perfect. The cheap glass of the front window shattered against her shoulders, the cloak protecting her from the vicious edges. Elise landed on the floor of the main room with a loud thud.

  “Athala!” Ermolt shouted from behind her. Elise pulled herself to her feet and turned to find Ermolt brandishing a steaming frying pan at her, partially cooked eggs dripping from the edge of the pan.

  “We have a problem,” Elise said. She threw her hood back, and just in time, too, as Athala burst into the room with a spell already forming in her hands. There was a moment of hesitation and then the spell sparked and crackled into nothing as she recognized the cloaked intruder as her friend.