Philp didn’t move although he was aware that the man was staring right at him. The others near the cabin made no move towards him though he became aware that the men standing on the periphery of the glade had stopped shouting their message into the surrounding woods.

As Philip hesitated, the armour clad man looked back at him expectantly. He was a tall blonde haired man who had the bearing of a noble and Philip assumed he was their leader. The man’s armour was of higher quality then the others and his hand rested easily on the jewelled hilt of his sword. He was flanked by three other armoured men, and he had counted another four around the glade for a total of seven armed men in addition to their geomancer. Each soldier had a sword at their hip and a large shield strapped to an arm.

Deciding that his best option was to listen to what the man had to say, Philip slowly got to his feet.

“I am Philip of Rickton,” he said cautiously.

“And I am Devan Comert,” the Morovian leader said, “Lord of Caloweil. I have been placed in charge of the investigation of the tragedy at Gelt’s Pass. I bring a message for you from our king.”

“What is it?” Philip asked, looking around the glade. Sure enough, the men who had been standing on the perimeter were slowly making their way back to the cabin.

“Come closer so we can chat more amicably,” Devan said, raising his hands, “on my honour, you will not be harmed.”

Philip approached warily, glancing at Grace who averted her eyes from his. “How did you find me here?” he asked warily.

Devan smirked. “Your Frederick of the Flame departed for Wood Edge as soon as he heard of what happened at Gelt’s Pass.”

He then gestured at Grace. “Our agents followed him and discovered your friend and her team in Wood Edge and summoned me. We followed them to you.”

“What is your king’s offer?” Philip asked.

The Morovians tried to appear friendly and though their hands were kept away from their weapons, Philip could feel the tension in the air.

“Your kingdom wants you dead,” Devan began, glancing at Grace, “and she’s a friend of yours sent here to see it done.”

“What will you do with her?”

Devan shrugged. “I suppose you can decide that when we’re done with our negotiations.”

“What is your king’s offer?” Philip asked again.

Devan glanced at his men and sighed before turning back to Philip. “Our liege, King Alexander Torik, has extended an invitation for you to stay in our kingdom as his personal guest.”

“Why did you take so long to act?” Philip asked bitterly, “if your intention was to protect me, you could have intervened when they attacked us at the cabin.”

The animosity of Devan’s men towards Philip seemed to grow as he stared at him in silence. Devan’s hand went for his sword momentarily and instinctively, Philip backed away half a step. Devan’s hand stopped and he smiled thinly before making a fist with his sword hand. “We thought it prudent to observe from a distance at first, we are intruders in these lands, after all. We acted when they had you cornered.”

Philip was about to speak when Devan waved his hand in front of him. “I should inform you that many of us knew people who fought at Gelt’s Pass and were happy to see you Celethir kill each other, so that might have played into things a little.”

That explained their animosity towards him, Philip thought. Would he truly be safe in their hands?

“However, we are soldiers of Morovin and will obey our liege’s decree, however distasteful we might find them. You will be given the king’s protection so long as you are his guest,” Devan continued, “as well as a full pardon for your crimes against our kingdom.”

“And if I refuse this invitation?” Philip asked quietly.

The men’s anger towards him seemed to grow and someone muttered a curse but was swiftly cowed by a single glare from Devan.

“Then you will answer to us for your crimes at Gelt’s Pass,” Devan replied.

Philip fell silent, thinking of his next move when Devan continued, “but why would you refuse? You are a fugitive from your own kingdom who have already sent assassins after you.”

Devan’s offer did sound tempting. However, going with them would place him in their power. There was a war between Morovin and Celethir. If he went along with them, he would surely be forced to participate in it. To kill his own people on Morovian terms. Perhaps the next war would pit him against more levies from Melinfield. Before even getting that far, what if he couldn’t produce his power? Would they still be so forgiving then? Philip had his doubts.

“Say,” the Morovian geomancer said, breaking his line of thought, “who taught you how to hide your presence like that?”

Philip looked up at the man. He was a short, plump man around Frederick’s age, and he appeared to share his comrade’s hostility towards him.

“You are the first Gifted Celethir I’ve encountered who can do that,” he added, glancing at Grace.

Philip shrugged. “My master taught me.”

“That woman in the cave?”

Philip nodded and the geomancer grunted. “She wasn’t one of ours, was she?”

Philip shrugged and the man scowled.

“So, what say you to our offer?” Devan asked, stepping in, “if you will excuse us, we are in a hurry. Our kingdoms are still at war, after all, and we don’t want to be caught on this side of the mountains.”

Philip swallowed and decided on a course of action. He glanced at Grace who still would not meet his gaze and then back at Devan. “I agree to your terms.”

“Good,” Devan said, and the other Morovians relaxed visibly. Devan then gestured towards Grace. “What do you want to do with her?”

“Kill her here,” Philip said flatly, and he saw Grace’s eyes go wide, “but I would rather do it myself.”

The geomancer looked like he was about to protest but was silenced by a look from Devan who then said to Philip, “suit yourself.”

“As you know, she’s a friend of mine, and I would like to ask her a few things in private, if I may,” Philip asked and crossed his fingers mentally.

Devan frowned as he thought if over but eventually waved his hand in acquiescence. “How would you like to do it?”

“I’ll use my flames,” Philip replied, as he saw Grace’s jaw drop in the corner of his eye.

Since the chamber, whenever he thought of fire, Philip was filled with a great sense of loss instead of terror and guilt. He hoped now that it meant he could manipulate fire without succumbing to terror.

“She told me you had a fear of fire and that you couldn’t use your powers,” Devan said, looking confused.

That answered one question, Philip told himself. They knew about his inability to conjure flames and had invited him anyway. Were their intentions pure after all? Perhaps they thought they were the ones who could get him over his fear and then use him for their own ends. What if he had refused to go with them? The hostility of the geomancer and Devan’s men was all the indication he needed as to what their response would be, and he knew what he had to do.

“Maybe I’m angry enough at my old friend’s betrayal that I’m willing to give it a proper go,” Philip replied, “if I am unable, I’m sure one of you will be willing to lend me a sword.”

Devan and the geomancer exchanged looks before he sighed and said, “do as you wish.”

Philip dragged Grace away from the others. He walked slowly, trying to account for each of the callers from earlier as he shoved her roughly. Sure enough, they had positioned themselves in a perimeter around the cabin to block off his escape if he tried to run. That further solidified his resolve. Now all he had to do was perform. But could he? He cursed not at least trying a test run of his abilities earlier, but it was too late for that now.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Philip demanded, coming to a halt and standing face to face with Grace. A glance over his shoulder told him they were twenty yards away from the others.

Grace shook her head defiantly and Philip was impressed that she showed no sign of being embarrassed at standing before him bare chested. “Just do it and get it over with,” she spat, “I have nothing to say to you.”

Philip sighed. “You’ll never change.”

He looked around to make sure no one was in earshot before lowering his voice, “I’m going to sear that seal off your chest. It’s going to hurt, but as soon as I do, we need to throw a flame lash towards them.”

Grace’s eyes went wide and lost all their defiance. “Do you know what you’re saying?”

“Trust me,” Philip said, lowering his voice, “this is the only way we’re making it out of here alive.”

“You could just go quietly with them and demanded they take me with you,” Grace hissed, with panic in her voice, “can you even conjure fire?”

“We’ll soon find out,” Philip said, as he focused his power. Before Grace could respond, he focused his power into his palm and placed it on her bare chest.

Grace cried out at the sudden pain and the smell of searing flesh filled the air. “Now!” Philip cried, swinging his hand towards the Morovians. He shot a gout of flame from his hand like he had been taught to do at the Academy and trusted Grace to do the rest.

She didn’t disappoint. As soon as she felt her power return, she turned around so that the palms of her bound hands faced Philip and summoned a gust of wind powerful enough to carry his fire towards the Morovians. The flash caught them off guard, and one man was set ablaze which sent their ranks into chaos. Philip wasted no time and deftly drew his dagger to cut Grace’s bonds.

“Let’s go!” he urged as he ran at one of the callers from earlier. His pulse had quickened slightly upon seeing the flames and he still felt a little ill, but he could do it, he thought to himself.

“Fireball, at him!” he barked when he felt the man was close enough, giddy that he was finally putting the theoretical lessons Frederick had given him at the Academy into practice.

A ball of fire swirled in his hand, and as it reached the peak of its power, Grace summoned a concentrated blast of air that sent it hurtling towards the fast approaching man. The man raised his shield in time to block the blast, but the impact knocked him off balance and gave Philip and Grace the opportunity to get closer.

“Fire blast!” Philip called out.

They worked with the expert coordination that had been drummed into them in the Academy. Although Philip could not conjure flames back then, he knew how to channel his power where it was needed, and Grace would manipulate the flow of air accordingly. They had practised these mock spells incessantly, despite how ridiculous it looked to their peers and now, finally, they were putting their hard work into practice.

He raised a hand and unleashed a gout of flame towards the man that was amplified by the roaring wind at his back that Grace had sent. They held it until the man’s clothes were set ablaze by the intense heat. As he lay writhing in agony, Philip and Grace took to their heels to the trees. They continued running past the river until they could no longer feel the geomancer’s aura.

“I think we can slow down,” Philip panted, as he looked around to get his bearings.

“You got over your fear of flames?” Grace gasped, sweating profusely.

“It seems I did,” Philip replied, not quite able to believe it himself.

Grace looked like she wanted to inquire further, but instead asked, “why save me?”

Philip shrugged, “I know you’re here to kill me, but I needed your cooperation to get away from them.”

“Why didn’t you just go with them? There’s nothing left for you in Celethir.”

“Did you see the looks on their faces?” Philip asked, looking at Grace, “the chances of either of us making it to their king alive were slim.”

“Besides,” Philip continued, “if we went there, we would be forced to live on their terms, probably end up pressed into military service and forced to turn our powers on our own people.”

“We’d live hated by both sides,” Grace said softly, “and my family would almost certainly be punished in my stead.”

Philip nodded thoughtfully and spotted the landmark he was looking for. “This way,” he said, pointing north.

“Where are we going?” Grace asked.

“There’s a thicket about an hour’s walk in this direction,” Philip said. He stopped midsentence as he realised Grace was naked from the chest down and felt something within him stir.

“What are you doing?” Grace asked as Philip took his tunic off.

“Wear this,” he said, red faced, “to cover yourself up.”

It was Grace’s turn to go red as she remembered she was exposed and hurriedly put Philip’s tunic on. “I don’t remember you being so gallant,” she remarked once she had regained her composure.

“I’ve been doing some growing up,” Philip shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. Their relationship hadn’t always been antagonistic, and she was the only person at the Academy he considered a friend.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten that you copped a feel,” Grace pouted, clutching her chest.

“It was the only way I could think of to remove the seal,” Philip protested.

“You could have thought a little harder,” Grace pouted, “I am a maiden, you know?”

Philip’s mouth opened and closed, as he struggled to find the words to respond.

“What will we do once we get to the thicket?” Grace asked, changing the subject to Philip’s relief.

“We’ll hide,” he replied, “there’s a cave network in the mountains to the south, but I think that’ll be playing into a geomancer’s hands.”

“I can’t hide my aura like you and the geomancer can,” Grace pointed out, “they’ll find us in the thicket before long.”

“Oh, I forgot about that,” Philip said, stroking his chin. He had taken the ability for granted, “I’ll teach you once we’re there, but you probably won’t be able to hold it for very long and you won’t be able to sense other Gifted while you’re hiding it.”

“Look at you, being all high and mighty,” Grace said dryly.

Philip let her retort slide and asked her a question that he had been dreading since they made good their escape. “How did you find me?”

Grace wrinkled her nose. “Your… our master, Frederick, is not as adept at slipping away as he likes to believe. He’s been followed every time he’s snuck off. When we’d heard he went to the backwater of Wood Edge after finding out about what happened at Gelt’s Pass, we were sent after him.”

“So it was you that I sensed at Wood Edge,” Philip remarked.

Grace made a sour face. “Yes, I got a little careless.”

“Why did it take your lot a week to get here?” Philip wondered, “was it to lull us into a false sense of security?”

Grace shook her head. “The assassins lost your scent at the river crossing. It took them a few days to pick it back up.”

Philip nodded and then asked the question he had been dreading to hear the answer to, “why did you agree to help them kill me? I thought we were friends.”

Grace drew a deep breath as they pushed their way through the undergrowth. “Lord Percival Corin died at Gelt’s Pass.”

Philip’s stomach sank as he remembered the kindly old aeromancer.

“They offered me his position in the army if I helped bring you in,” Grace continued.

“Was shipborne life not to your liking?” Philip ventured.

Grace smiled wanly. “It turns out I’m prone to getting seasick. It was that or get the same seal you did and be cast out of the Academy.”

She turned to look Philip in the eye. “I’m not making excuses for what I did, I’m just hoping you understand why.”

“I understand,” Philip sighed, “you always said you wanted to support your family.”

They came across a small brook and Philip helped Grace across. On the other side, a sprawling blackberry thicket grew in the shade of towering evergreens. Its branches were dense and prickly and even a mouse would have trouble penetrating it.

“Are you seriously thinking about hiding out in there?” Grace demanded.

Philip plucked a blackberry from one of the thorny branches and popped it into his mouth. He puckered his lips at the sourness of the fruit and offered a handful to Grace. “Are you hungry?”

“I am, actually,” Grace admitted.

“Last night, just before you attacked,” Philip said as Grace popped a handful of berries into her mouth, “I was doing some meditating.”

Grace’s eyes watered as she chewed the berries. “Meditating? Like a monk?”

“I managed to sense your aura from fairly far away just before the attack came,” Philip continued, “did you sense mine then?”

Grace shook her head. “I must say, the assassins were surprised you saw them coming.”

“That’s good,” Philip said. He took in their surroundings.

The blackberry patch was large, and the ridge on the far side of it was barely visible from where they were standing.

“Follow me,” he said at length, “and I’ll explain my plan to you.”

Together, they made their way through the trees as they skirted the edge of the blackberry patch. Philip outlined his plan to Grace as they walked and taught her the technique to control her aura. Grace gave Philip a dubious look before mentally attempting to bring the pulsating orb in her chest that was the source of her power to a standstill.

“Are you sure this is all there is to it?” she asked.

“Concentrate,” Philip urged, pushing scraggly branches out of their way as they made their way through the edge of the thicket.

Grace closed her eyes and soon, her aura faded from Philip’s senses.

“Well done,” Philip said, grabbing her as she stumbled on a stray root, “now you need to practice doing it while on the move.”

Grace swallowed and nodded. “If it’s that all there is to it, why didn’t they teach us that at the Academy?” she wondered out loud.

“They probably don’t want us disappearing on them,” Philip remarked grimly, “also, you picked it up unusually quickly, but that was to be expected, given that it’s you.”

“I’ve always been better than these things than you,” Grace pointed out matter-of-factly.

Philip shook his head and came to a halt at a small rise. The rise marked the end of the thicket, and a small pathway had been cut into the sheer walls by Penelope in the past.

“I’ll lie in wait there,” Philip said, pointing at a leafy shrub at the top of the rise.

He looked to the blackberry patch and frowned. The brambles were densely packed on this end of the patch as well.

“Think you can make a hole?” he asked.

Grace sighed and nodded as she gathered her dishevelled hair into a tight ponytail. “I can’t say this is a particularly good plan.”

“If you can think of anything better,” Philip said, “I’m all ears.”

Grace shook her head. “I’m not familiar with these woods, so I’m ill equipped to come up with anything of my own.”

She looked around and then at Philip. “Do you still have that dagger?”

Philip nodded and held it up. “What of it?”

“Give it to me,” Grace said, “I have no way to defend myself while we’re separated.”

It made sense to Philip, so he complied. Grace examined it and tore off a strip of cloth from around her waist and tied the dagger haft down to the inside of her forearm.

“They didn’t teach us that at the Academy,” Philip remarked as she rolled down the sleeve to hide the dagger.

“I’ve picked up a thing or two from sailors,” Grace replied and looked embarrassed bringing them up. She turned her gaze to Philip, “you’re awful trusting. I tried to kill you, remember?”

Philip shrugged. “Despite knowing that, I just can’t see you as an enemy.”

“Then you’re a fool,” Grace stated.

“So you’ve been telling me,” Philip said, he paused and looked up at the sky as though trying to recall something before looking back at Grace, “pretty much since the day we met.”

They looked into one another’s eyes for a moment before breaking into smiles. Grace shook her head and looked towards the far end of the thicket. “What if they don’t follow us?” she ventured.

Philip shrugged. “Then we run off towards Wood Edge and hopefully never see them again.”

He then turned back to Grace. “But unfortunately, I don’t think that’s likely.”

“I’m inclined to agree,” Grace declared, and gave the thicket a look of distaste, “let’s get started then.”

Oddly, Grace seemed happier at the thought of the Morovians coming after them instead of giving up. Philip walked up the path Penelope had cut into the earth embankment to get up the rise before taking his position in the bushes. He was confident that this was the only way up the rise nearby which would make their position fairly secure once they were both up here. He then cleared his thoughts and focused inwards, like he had the night before. It didn’t take long for him to sense the Morovian geomancer’s aura. It made sense he was not hiding his, they were the ones on the hunt, after all. It seemed they had picked up their scent and were heading right for them.

“Here they come,” Philip warned.

Grace’s eyes glowed white as she used her power to push the branches aside and made her way into the thicket. The air was filled with the sound of snapping branches as Grace pushed her way through. She got about a thirty yards in before coming to a halt. It wasn’t as far as Philip would have liked, but it seemed that was as much as her power would permit. She would have to be able to get out in a hurry as well, Philip reminded himself.

The geomancer’s aura came to a halt on the far side of the brook, and Philip could hear his own heart as it pounded. He would hide his own aura once he got closer, while Grace would remain exposed. According to his plan, Grace was to lure them into the thicket and then beat a hasty retreat while Philip would set it ablaze, hopefully trapping all their pursuers inside.

It was a bloodthirsty plan that would result in a horrible death for their pursuers, and it surprised him how indifferent he was towards killing these particular people. He wondered if his indifference was the result of his Academy training, which emphasized dehumanizing their foes in battle, or if it was due to recent events. Grace didn’t seem to have any qualms about killing their pursuers either, so he assumed it had to be the former.

Did their pursuers have to die? They were sure to have friends and family waiting for them in Morovin. Don’t hesitate to kill your enemies because they won’t hesitate to kill you, that was what had been drummed into them at the Academy.

The distraction caused Philip to lose track of the geomancer briefly, but he wasn’t too concerned. At this distance, there was no worry over him being able to track him or Grace. Unless he too could extend the range at which she could detect auras…

Philip struggled to clear his thoughts now and focused inwardly. It took him a minute, but he was able to find the geomancer again. His blood froze. He hadn’t moved but his aura was stronger now, as though he was using his power. His aura flared briefly, and Philip felt a tremor underfoot. The aura returned to normal and flared again. The tremor was stronger now, almost knocking Philip off balance and causing the brambles in the thicket to sway.

This confused Philip for a moment until he realised what it meant; that he and possibly Grace had been detected, and the geomancer was relaying their positions to the other Morovians who were hidden somewhere in the woods around them. He let off the prearranged warning call to Grace and hoped she heard it before moving to another bush to his right.

He studied the thicket for signs of movement while trying to remember if there were any other ways up the rise other than the path he had used. He could think of several and he watched the thicket closely while pricking his ears, poised for any signs of danger from the sides.

The rustling of leaves in the undergrowth to his left caught Philip’s attention and he turned just in time to see a man leap out with a dagger in his hand. Acting reflexively from the Latis he had practised with Penelope; he used a palm strike to that made contact with the man’s forearm, pushing his blow off course. Philip grunted in pain as the spear handed strike he had landed with his other hand struck the man’s armoured chest.

The man swung again with his dagger again, and Philip leapt back to avoid it and to create some distance between them. The man stepped forward, desperate to stay close, wary of his power. Philip recalled what Penelope had said about the origins of Latis and concentrated the power in his hands before stepping in himself, catching his opponent who had expected him to try and open up more distance, off guard. The man swung an elbow at Philip’s temple who managed to catch it in his open palm.

The man withdrew his elbow quickly and attempted to stab Philip with the dagger in his other hand. Instead of parrying the blow, Philip managed to catch the man’s wrist with one hand and directed all his power into the fingers of his now free hand before landing another spear handed strike to the man’s abdomen. He felt his finger melt the steel of his opponent’s armour as it landed. He focused more of his power into the fingertip, and ignoring the searing pain the heat caused, he stubbornly pushed his fingers through the man’s armour and into the flesh on the other side.

The man shrieked in pain and surprise as Philip’s red hot fingertips penetrated half an inch into his abdomen. The man stumbled backwards, and Philip’s fingers came free. Thinking quickly, Philip finished his opponent off with a gout of flame that incinerated the man’s face. The man’s body twitched as it slumped to the ground, and Philip suppressed the urge to throw up before turning his attention back to the thicket.

“Grace, get out!” Philip bellowed, hearing branches snap and quiver close to where she had hidden herself as the Morovians began hacking their way towards her.

Thinking quickly, he leapt forward to the edge of the rise and raised both hands above his head. He began accumulating his power there as he watched anxiously for any sign of his friend. By the time she emerged from the thicket, a massive ball of flame was swirling above Philip’s head. He saw something flash towards him, but he knew he could not move, or there was no telling where the flames above his head would go.

Grace’s eyes glowed white and she sent a gust of wind towards him which was enough to knock the crossbow bolt off course. It missed Philip’s chest by a hair and embedded itself in a nearby tree. Knowing it would take a few seconds for the unseen man to reload, he continued focusing on the ball of flame above him, carefully using his power to maintain the flame without causing a premature explosion. The heat grew until it began to scald Philip’s palms and he flicked his eyes to Grace.

“Cataclysm!” he shouted at her. They had to hurry before the enemy in the thicket could reload his crossbow or get close enough to use his sword.

Grace looked at him wide eyed and nodded in understanding. Her eyes glowed white as she manipulated the currents of air around the ball of flame that grew from the size of a watermelon to the size of a wagon, causing the branches that were touched by it to combust. Just when Philip was about to cry out at Grace to release the spell, when she summoned the wind, sending the massive ball of fire hurtling towards the middle of the thicket where it erupted with a tremendous roar. She then manipulated the air currents around thicket to further fan the flames, and soon, the entire thicket was ablaze, forcing her to take a step back.

Philip felt his heart race at the sight of the raging inferno and tore his eyes off it and watched the undergrowth where the crossbow bolt had come from. Soon, screams could be heard from the thicket and he tried to ignore them.

“I think we caught at least two people in there,” Grace remarked as she climbed the rise and scurried over to Philip. She saw the man Philip had killed earlier and grunted, “so that’s three more dealt with.”

“Get down,” Philip said pointing to their right, “there’s at least one more over in that direction.”

“Any sign of him?” Grace whispered as they both hurried to get back into cover.

Philip shook his head as he strained his senses for the man who had shot at him. Five down, two left, plus the geomancer who he had lost track of.

“Do you see him?” Philip asked.

“Hush,” Grace said, holding up a hand. Her eyes glowed white as she sent a gentle breeze out from her hands.

The leaves around them rustled as she squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated. A few moments later, she gasped as she opened her eyes again.

“Anything?” Philip asked.

Grace shook her head as the glow receded. “There are too many branches.”

“Only one thing for it then,” Philip decided as the fire in the thicket beneath them crackled, “we’ll have to do a flame lash to drive him out.”

“That’ll burn down half the forest,” Grace pointed out, “we could get caught in the blaze.”

Philip looked at her, confused for a moment before grunting his agreement. He had forgotten that though he would probably come out of a forest fire with nothing worse than a burnt wardrobe, Grace probably would not survive. If the forest did burn down, they would have to get to the brook for safety. Grace’s safety. He looked over his shoulder at the thicket. Grace wouldn’t be able to go through there for a while yet.

“Maybe he withdrew,” Grace remarked, “perhaps you should try and find out where that geomancer is. I’ll keep a lookout.”

Philip nodded and sat down to begin the search. He focused inward on his orb for a few minutes before giving up.

“Either he’s hiding his aura, or he’s long gone,” Philip remarked.

Grace frowned. “Could they be withdrawing?”

“We should be so lucky,” Philip sighed.

Grace whirled around and snapped, “you do realise that them getting away will have dire consequences for the both of us, don’t you?”

Philip looked back at her blankly, taken off guard by her sudden outburst and not comprehending how their enemies withdrawing would be bad for them.

“If they get away, word will eventually get out that you’re alive, which means you will be a hunted man,” Grace said with all the patience she could muster, “as for me, our king will know I’ve failed my mission at best and at worst, I’ll be accused of helping you out because you’re an old friend.”

“Oh,” Philip said. He hadn’t considered that before, “so what should we do?”

Grace’s eyebrows soared. “Hunt them down of course! Do you have any idea where they could have gone?”

Philip frowned. He didn’t know if they knew of the mountain pass. If they did, they could have gone in that direction, but Penelope had said it was a secret after all. “The only way I can think of is the way they came,” Philip said at length, “they said they followed you.”

“They’ll probably go back to the glade to get their bearings first,” Grace said, looking around for any sign of a path, “we need to intercept them there.”

Philip’s eyes widened. “You want us to go charging through the woods despite having no idea where they’re going?”

Grace nodded. “What choice do we have?”

The fire in the thicket grew as they spoke, and Philip grew worried that it would soon cut them off from the glade. He was about to set off on a path that skirted the thicket and led back to the brook when Grace grabbed his arm.

“What is it?” he asked, and then he felt it too.

The geomancer’s aura grew as he used his power. He was closer than they thought, just on the other side of the thicket.

“Let’s go,” Grace urged, “he could be trying to save the others trapped by the fire.”

They hid their auras and moved as quickly as they could. Philip led Grace through the woods along the edge of the thicket. Their progress was frustratingly slow, held up by dense undergrowth and forced detours where they couldn’t cut through without revealing themselves. It took them the better part of half an hour for them to arrive at the opposite end of the thicket where they had sensed the geomancer’s aura.

The thicket fire was beginning to burn itself out as they approached the geomancer’s position cautiously. They saw and heard nothing untoward as they drew nearer and the hairs on Philip’s neck stood on end. They spotted a corridor of collapsed earth leading into the thicket. A pair of charred corpses lying where the corridor ended told them that the geomancer’s efforts had been in vain. Now the question was where he and the other surviving Morovians were.

Philip and Grace exchanged looks and stopped hiding their auras. They began searching for the geomancer’s and unable to find him, they exchange looks that told one another that they might have just walked headfirst into a trap.

As though on cue, the geomancer’s aura flared into life from the trees twenty yards to their left. The intensity grew, and they felt the ground beneath their feet tremble. Thinking quickly, Grace summoned a powerful gust of wind that knocked them off their feet backwards, just as the ground they had been standing on liquified into mud.

“Flame lash over there,” Philip gasped, as raised his hand in the geomancer’s direction.

The flames arced towards the geomancer who was able to scramble out of the way in the nick of time. Philip quickly got to his feet and saw movement in the corner of his eye. He turned and saw that it was Devan, who came charging out of the undergrowth with his sword and shield at the ready.

Not daring to move out of the way out of fear of endangering Grace, Philip raised a hand and unleashed a gout of flame which Devan blocked easily with his shield. Devan swung his sword and it was close to beheading him when Philip felt his legs give way, causing the Morovian to slice air. He yelped and looked down to see that Grace had tackled him, and they collapsed in a heap at Devan’s feet.

Philip raised his hand to unleash another gout of flame, but Devan was able to leap back to buy a precious half second to bring his shield to bear once more, blocking the flames of Philip’s next attack in the nick of time. Philip and Grace took the opportunity to untangle themselves and leapt to their feet.

Devan advanced swiftly and a crossbow bolt flew over his shoulder towards Philip, but Grace was alert enough to deflect it and it flew off into the trees behind them. Philip concentrated his power in both his hands as he wracked his brain to find a way around Devan’s shield.

His opponent didn’t give him any time to think about it, however, and charged once more, shield first. A gust of wind from Grace did little to deter him as he came barrelling towards Philip who channelled his power into his hands, expecting Devan to create a gap at the last moment so that he could skewer him with his sword. He was caught off guard when Devan instead swung his shield at him, leaving Philip with just enough time to raise his arms to protect himself.

The air rushed out of his lungs as the force of the impact sent Philip tumbling backwards. Devan kept the shield between himself and Philip as he moved quickly towards him once more with precise steps and tried to leap onto Philip’s prone form, shield first.

Philip managed to roll away just in time as Devan landed on the ground shield first with a thud. Devan was also quick to react, rolling in the opposite direction and springing to his feet quickly. Philip spotted another man coming out of cover and circling around as he squared off against Devan once again as Grace looked at him helplessly.

Devan stepped moved forward once more as the over Morovian circled round to flank Philip. A reckless plan popped into Philip’s head and he decided it was his only choice. He remembered the feeling of striking the armoured Morovian earlier as he darted forward and concentrated all the power he could into his fingertips. He felt his fingertips burn as he struck Devan’s shield with a spear handed strike.

To his surprise, this time, his fingertips cut through the steel shield like a hot knife through butter all the way through the shield and the bracer protecting Devan’s arm behind it, searing the flesh of Devan’s arm beyond. Devan grunted with pain. It had been his turn to be caught off guard and was slow to attempt to stab at Philip with his other hand from behind the shield as Philip landed a kick behind Devan’s knee, forcing him down on one knee and exposing his head. They paused as their eyes met for a moment and Philip swiftly aimed a blast of flame that struck the Morovian noble square in the head, killing him instantly.

Philip looked into the ruined face of the man he had just killed less than a foot away from him in a daze.

“Philip, we’re doing another fire blast!” he heard Grace say, and he remembered the remaining Morovian.

He raised his hand in the man’s general direction and trusted Grace to do the rest. The man raised his shield, but there was still enough distance between them for her to bend the flames around the shield and catch the man in the side. The man screamed as his upper body was set ablaze, but sheer fanaticism kept him running towards Philip who dove out of the way. The man was so consumed by flames and pain that he could not see Philip and continued charging into the smouldering remains of the thicket before collapsing in a heap.

They then turned to the geomancer who looked back at them for a moment before throwing his hands up.

“I surrender!” he exclaimed.

Philip and Grace exchanged incredulous looks as they approached the diminutive man carefully.

“Just like that?” Philip asked, “after what we did to your friends?”

The geomancer shrugged. “Nothing to be done about it now, and my life is worth more than theirs. They knew that when we set out.”

“And why should we spare you?” Grace demanded.

“If you bring me back to your king alive, you’ll be rewarded handsomely,” the geomancer replied, “he would try to have me teach your geomancers the secrets of our guild and when he fails, he will ransom me back to my kingdom, who of course will be happy to pay.”

Grace looked at Philip as she got close to the man. “The man speaks sense,” she pointed out.

Philip looked at her, confused. If the man lived, he would surely tell others that Philip was alive… unless Grace killed Philip which meant she would achieve her condition to join the military. To return with a Morovian geomancer as a captive on top of that would make her rich beyond her wildest dreams. What to do about it? Kill them both? He couldn’t kill Grace. He’d meant what he’d said about not seeing her as an enemy, especially after their ordeal against the Morovians. What then? Run for it? That seemed the best option. It would be easy to lose them and make for the mountain pass.

While Philip was agonising over what to do, Grace drew her dagger and in a smooth motion, slit the geomancer’s throat as easily as she would cut a piece of paper.