I encountered a few other people as I rode in a panic, my mind racing, but they had their own worries to tend to. After seeing the Archon I had briefly considered going back in time and squeezing out every additional minute of escape that I could. A little extra gold could have encouraged Callos to move faster. But possibly buying myself another ten minutes of time or so did not seem worth depleting my time magic further.

My whole body was sore, my mind in tatters. The land was flat enough to stay off the main roads but I soon chafed on top of everything else.

By the time I reached Journey the sun began to set. The town looked idyllic in the twilight; small but not too small, smelling of bread and industry, the peoples' silhouettes as they worked or simply enjoyed the vibrant skies. I must have ruined the atmosphere. My flight had left me sweaty and stinking. The horse plodded behind me, too exhausted to fight my loose hold on the reins. It looked like a wonderful place to rest, though soon enough this place would be swarming with soldiers from Odena.

Consulting the map again revealed what seemed to be an accurate enough depiction of the surrounding land. Several villages like Journey surrounded Odena within a twenty mile radius. Any pursuers would not know which direction I headed in, if they even were aware I had left the city. Callos could have reported me after seeing me rush off, but I was not too worried on that front. He had a trustworthy reputation and my reaction was not completely uncalled for after the Archon's declaration. The smuggler would have to make a serious mental leap to conclude I was involved with Barrow's death, with enough conviction he would report me. He would risk exposing his entire operation.

I should not have gone into the village at all, but I was willing to trade off some of my time magic in return for information.

Despite my appearance the people of Journey were a welcoming sort. A few of them waved or nodded. Word of chaos in the city must not have reached them yet.

I stopped next to the closest one, a rugged-looking man in his thirties. A long day of work had soiled his clothes and dirtied up his face, but his smile was wide and friendly.

"Hey there, son," he said. "Heading out of the city? What's the word?"

I raised a hand in greeting. "Came out a couple hours ago. Family left after all the craziness last night. I stayed behind to settle a few things before meeting up with them farther along."

"Having the son handle business? Why not your big man?"

"Just me, my mom, and my sister." I offered him a weak smile, head bowed.

He pointed a blunt finger at me. "Well, make sure you treat them right. My mom passed while I was still a little hellion. Lot of nights I wish I did right by her."

This playacting was beginning to make me feel uneasy, though these sort of situations are why I wanted to learn how to manipulate others with the staccato. The man had an implicit trust for everything I said. How could you let yourself be deceived so easily? Maybe that was the sign of a life well lived.

"To be honest," I said, "we are a bit low on funds. I'm supposed to meet up with them farther along in Forest's Way. Think it's around twenty miles due east. I was wondering if there was any shelter nearby where I could sleep for the night?"

I feigned an embarrassed look. Avoiding eye contact with him was all too easy. How ridiculous, that I had killed several people recently but still felt ashamed of lying.

Even if I couldn't see his face, the pity was clear in his voice. "You can stay with me and mine. We'd be happy to have you. I added a guest room recently, would love for you to try it out."

"Oh, no," I said. "I wouldn't want to be a burden."

"That's nothing to worry about. Listen---"

"No, really." I started to move along.

Confused, the man shook his head. He gestured northeast. "Well, there's an abandoned farm about three miles that way. Nothing too wrong with it, the land there is just harsh and all the cold recently drove the owners out. I can't encourage you to break into their home, but sometimes we catch people squatting in their barn. Well insulated building, that one. Most of the time we leave them be until they move along. Might be some others there but you could take a gander."

"Thanks," I said.

The man looked like he wanted to say something else. A gale of wind crashed into me from behind, sending me stumbling forward. Some of the nearby villagers shouted. My horse made a run for it, jerking the reins from my hand. I nearly fell, managing to catch myself in a crouch with a hand supporting me against the ground. Reflexively I reached out with my magical awareness and sensed a familiar figure. behind me.

The Narahven woman had made her grand appearance.

Zephyr sauntered forward with her annoyingly confident stride. "You've done an impressive job of evading me. You're a slippery one. That weak scent makes tracking difficult. I don't know how you managed to kill my brother, but I should have never let Barrow chase after you alone."

She had refined her speech since the last time we met.

"What's all this now?" said the kind man, wide-eyed.

"What kind of power do you have?" I said to Zephyr, ignoring him. "You can track me, and travel so quickly without a horse?"

The West Wind spit a glob of phlegm to the side. "Why would I tell you a damn thing? If only every criminal was stupid enough not to research his opponents, my job would be far easier."

Worth a try. She would not be so easy to kill as her brother, though maybe there was something I could do about her sudden appearance. If she also moved quickly but along the ground, could I take advantage of nullifying whatever air magic she utilized? Much the same way I disrupted Barrow's landing, I could stop her motion enhancement. Maybe she would trip over her own feet and turn into a long streak of red along the road as well.

The thought of it sickened me. How had I become so morbid? This woman did not deserve to die. If necessary I could experiment and reverse time if it killed her, but what would it to do to me as a person, if I treated killing people as something I could casually undo with no consequences? The coldly rational part of my mind agreed, though for a different reason: wasting more of Paimon's power would only slow me down.

I returned fifteen minutes back in time. Back to being on horseback, with the sight of the village on the horizon. This time I turned off of the road, completely avoiding Journey, taking a long route in the general direction of the abandoned farm. Even though that would leave me dangerously low on my reserves of time magic, I would go back an entire hour if Zephyr caught me again.

I retracted my magical awareness again on the hunch that the "weak scent" she mentioned was me using my powers. The abandoned farm took longer to find than I would have preferred but I made it without any issues.

There is something forlorn about the sight of an unoccupied home. It looked like it used to be a well-maintained area, with carefully laid plots and a sturdy barn. Random pieces of equipment such as a rusted shovel looked to have been thrown across the area. Presumably by the vagrants who stayed here for a while, though it seemed incredibly disrespectful to the people who built their shelter.

The sky was beginning to darken noticably, making me realize just how desperate I was for rest.

Yawning, I led the horse into the barn. The stalls inside looked like they were meant for cows instead, but the animal fit just as well. I did not think I could keep the animal with me long; maintaining a horse was not part of my education, and I had nothing to feed it.

The interior of the building was mostly empty except for some shredded bales of hay and more rusted equipment. A corner housed some signs of human life---a threadbare blanket that looked like it had been ripped into strips of cloth, a fork coated in dirt, what looked like a handkerchief covered in crusted stains. Disgusting. All of it looked like it was months old, at least.

I set my pack down near a bale of hay near the barn doors. As good of a place as any to sit down as any. I spread my bedroll out but did not climb in. As long as Zephyr was in the area, I could not afford to sleep. Instead I went and gathered some twigs from around the farm. After sprinkling them around the entrance, I settled into the lotus position ontop of my bedroll. At that angle the entrance to the barn was clearly visible.

Though meditation was not a replacement for true sleep, I would at least be able to think things through and allow myself to relax. Staying in the barn too long was begging to be captured. Once I felt a bit more recovered and the horse had a chance to rest, we would continue on. Traveling through the chilly night held no appeal for me, but my options were limited.

Eyes closed, I focused on my breathing and spreading my awareness around me. Thoughts competed for attention in my exhausted mind---the bond with Paimon, leaving Felix behind, the West Wind chasing me. The more I thought about it, the more flimsy my plan for everything seemed. Just run away as far as possible. Grow stronger. Get your revenge. Most of the time I focused on imagining healing waves spreading through my body. I doubted it did much, but it did help me feel more relaxed.

After three hours and forty-seven minutes, a twig snapped. I opened my eyes in time to see the Zephyr slipping into the barn, a specter in the moonlight. Under my magical awareness she registered as a small current of wind. Strong, but not on the level of her brother in terms of sheer power. Manageable.

I noticed her first; she wasted a second looking down at the little sticks I had scattered around the entrance for this exact purpose. A curse formed on her lips.

I sprang off the floor and caught her in a wild tackle. I hoped to overwhelm her with my size but she managed to turn us sideways. Instead of me pinning her against the wall we collided into it at the same time. A crack reverberated through my body.

Before I could recover her elbow caught me in the temple. I stumbled, managed to stay conscious.

Enough. I reversed time fifteen minutes.

Stupid of me to spend so long in a trance. I was honestly impressed that she had managed to find me. Had she been able to find me just from me spreading out my awareness? That required so little power that it seemed unlikely. Only way to find out: wait and see if she came if I wasn't using it.

I peered through the window, rubbing my side. A phantom pain lingered from the impact. Our brief exchange of blows made it obvious she had the upper hand. She had that easy command of leverage and gravity that marks a master. If she managed to knock me unconscious before I could turn back time I would be completely at her mercy.

Live like a hunted animal or risk everything? I had come too far to keep running.

A ladder towards the back of the barn granted me access to the loft. It would have been the perfect location to sleep if the platform wasn’t half-rotten. I pressed one foot onto a nearby rafter, shifting my weight onto it until I became certain it would hold.

Heart pounding, I shuffled sideways along the thickest beam, prepared to reverse time the moment it snapped. Less than a dozen feet separated me from the ground; Avarus taught us how to fall safely from greater heights but I did not wish to test my luck. I paused several times, wincing at the groaning wood, but eventually reached my destination.

I perched like a monkey above the entrance. The Bakkel remained sheathed at my side. If possible I preferred a captive over a corpse.

Sixteen hundred seconds later the woman snapped a twig underfoot. Her head turned towards my pack in the corner.

I dropped.

The creaking rafter gave her a moment’s notice. She glanced up and crossed her arms overhead in time to block my boots from crushing her skull. We collapsed in a tangle of limbs. A lucky elbow to the stomach knocked the wind out of her. I slipped on top, confident I could subdue her from that position.

Even surprised and breathless she was the superior grappler.

First mistake: I planted my hands to either side of her to support myself. Like an eel she wrapped herself around me, her hands twisting my elbow and wrist to pin my arm behind my back, one leg slipping around my lower back to brace herself. My shoulder screamed as she exerted more force, slow and inexorable.

I reversed time before it snapped.

Second mistake: I rained hammerfists down towards her head, hoping to overpower her. She deflected each blow with forearms and elbows like iron. Bruised and aching, I stopped my assault, weighed my options. Her hands flickered out, slipping past my defense, tap-tap connecting with my chin. I saw stars.

I used my magic to return a few seconds back. My vision swam, corrected as my brain realized there was nothing physically wrong. I would not beat her with my fists. Sword it was, then. I rolled off of her and, landing in a crouch, unsheathed the Bakkel.

“Move and you die,” I said.

Her eyes flicked between my sword and my face. Unimpressed, she somersaulted backwards, regaining her feet in one smooth motion. She drew her sword, a so-called suicide blade due to the missing crossguard. Still panting, she tilted her chin in defiance. The meaning was clear: come then, asshole.

Killing her would have saved me a lot of trouble.

She waited, happy to remain on the defensive as she sucked down measured breaths of air. Her stance was unfamiliar, body pivoted away from me, suicide blade held behind her with the cutting edge up. I nodded, unsure if I meant to acknowledge her or encourage myself.

I pushed off the balls of my toes, closing the distance in an instant. Her blade whipped forward to meet me, an upward arc meant to cleave my chin in two. I flinched away, a white-hot line of pain searing my cheek.

Time reversed. The wound disappeared.

I charged again, danced back from the blow, charged again. The swing threw her off balance and she took a step forward in time for my shoulder to smash her to the floor. She somersaulted backwards again, came to her feet with her free hand supporting her against the ground.

Annoyance flashed across her face. I smiled.

That set her off. She came at me, viper-quick, each blow meant to kill or cripple. Nothing like the legato’s fluid forms and tricky footwork. A street style not meant for the dueling circle. Either she neglected her swordwork or I was better than I thought. Whatever ability allowed her to move so quickly did not enhance her speed with the sword. I held off her barrage and when she overextended I drove my blade into the opening, meaning to skewer her through the shoulder.

My sword met air.

Dust swirled upward from the floor, caught in an eddy of wind. I turned and saw the woman on the other side of the building, some thirty feet away. She leaned against the wall, gasping for air through a crazed smile.

From what I could tell, her ability was some sort of incredible speed isolated only to running.

I had tricks of my own.

I reversed time to the moment before she disappeared away from my sword thrust. A second power surged through me: the numbness of the void. Paimon’s power nullified her ability to run and this time I skewered her through the right shoulder. I moved forward, concise, rapid steps that forced her to backpedal with me until her back slammed into the wall. The Bakkel's blade sank into the wood with a satisfying thud.

“Got you,” she said.

Third mistake: I did not reverse time instantly after she gloated.

I looked down at my leg, surprised to see a gash along my thigh. Pain flared, brilliant and overwhelming. I blinked and discovered I was kneeling on the ground like a vassal before his queen. Another heartbeat sent the poison coursing through my body.

The pain was too much; I could not focus enough to use my power. The muscles in my thigh cramped, a hard knot of agony, then the poison spread, locking my body in place. I collapsed face-first into the ground as I lost control of my torso. In seconds I was paralyzed, unable to blink, head turned enough that I could see the woman.

With a scream she ripped the blade out of her shoulder and flung it aside. She snapped words at me in Narahven, guttural and damning. I’d spent enough time in taverns to understand the gist behind the words. I tried to focus on her tirade, something to anchor me away from the unbearable agony. Unable to scream, unable to concentrate enough to summon my power.

She tore a strip of cloth from her shirt and wrapped it around her bloody shoulder. Her right arm dangled at her side, useless.

“Bastard,” she finally managed in Avanchean. “Got you, you bastard.”

I stared.

She kicked me in the side. Hard enough to crack ribs but nothing more than a dull thump in comparison to the fire streaming through my veins.

“I’m tempted to kill you now. One more cut and you stop breathing. Your respiratory muscles seize and you asphyxiate, helpless. Helpless as my brother falling from the sky.”

Her boots appeared in front of me. They appeared to be made of some bizarre liquid metal, something like quicksilver that glowed in the moonlight. Helpless, mesmerized, I waited for her to end my suffering.

Instead she crouched and gripped my face, turning it this way and that.

“Look how young you are.” Tears moistened her eyes. She laughed at herself, shook her head, but she couldn’t stop the tears from falling. “Do you understand the pain you have caused me? My family? The people of Odena? I pity you, I do. But I am glad I was the one to find you. There is hope as long as people like me exist to stop people like you.”

She set my head back on the ground and pulled a rolled cloth from one of her pockets. I could not see what she did but I felt a needle enter the crook of my arm. With it came relief, euphoric and consuming. I sank into blessed darkness.