Casella and Mbukhe welcome me into the [Inquisitors] headquarters early the next morning, just as the rosy dawn paints the horizon in gold and pink. The mysterious pair replied to my request for a meeting almost immediately, which makes me suspect that they’ve been monitoring me since I got back in town. From anyone else, I’d find the surveillance disturbing, but the pair of wily veterans have earned my goodwill and trust.

“Look at you two! Geared up and ready to go exploring, huh? Almost like you read my mind,” I say mildly, although I’m a bit piqued that I didn’t have a chance to talk with them in person beforehand.

Their smiles are sharp and amused, as though they see through me in an instant—and perhaps they do. I’m not exactly subtle. Although he’s usually the more taciturn of the two, Mbukhe offers an explanation. “You are a valuable asset. Neglecting to care for what’s been entrusted to us would result in our dishonorable discharge. We don’t mean to pry, other than that.”

“That’s fair,” I allow, but my words taste sour.

Casella pulls me inside and shuts the door behind us. He leads me into the sitting room and activates a privacy ward. “If it makes you feel better, you’re not the only one unhappy with our current arrangement. Tychicus isn’t pleased you’re back in town.”

I duck my head, glancing over my shoulder instinctively as though I’ll find him lurking behind the sofa. “How likely is he to arrest me out of spite?”

Casella snorts. “Arrest you? Never. Orders from above. Plus he thinks you’re intriguing, since you slipped his [Adjutant]’s clutches and earned the [Viceroy]’s personal interest. You're fair game for mild harassment, though, since we’re the only ones truly on your side.”

When I grimace, his expression softens. “You’ll have to endure the unfair treatment as best you can. Keep in mind that we’ll let him get away with any petty revenge he may feel, so we don’t look biased. We still stand with you.”

“I appreciate the warning.” My words come out flat, like nothing could be further from the truth. I don’t know why I’m so ornery this morning.

Mbukhe pats me on the shoulder. “Why the sad face? We have an adventure today. Don’t look so defeated! It’s time for us to become hunters, not hunted.”

“I didn't know you were so bloodthirsty,” I say to Mbukhe with a sudden smile. “You’re right. We’re going on a hunt, and I need to get into the proper mindset. Forget my troubles. Let’s defy death for the sake of glory.”

Casella coughs into his big, square fist. “No losses this time, Nuri. We’ll take things slow and steady. Life and limb are more precious than finding treasures.” His grave expression melts, and his eyes twinkle with merriment. “Especially when some of us have fewer limbs to lose than others.”

I groan at his teasing, but somehow it makes me feel better. If these seasoned veterans are composed enough to joke about entering a Rift, then I have nothing to fear. Not anymore. I nod, starting to catch the current of excitement building in the room. “Thanks! You’re right. This expedition will be nothing like my last, terrified delve that ended in disaster. I’m glad to have you two along.”

Casella raises his eyebrows. “You saved an entire town from a Rift incursion. Perhaps we have a different definition of ‘disaster.’”

“Do you need time to pack? I have food to spare, unless you think we’ll be in there for more than a day,” I say, deflecting his praise. My stomach twists as I think about the people I couldn’t save the last time I encountered a Rift. I was too weak, even with my Skills. This time, I’m stronger. Better prepared.

“Never assume anything,” Casella says sternly.

I shrug half-heartedly, not feeling like an argument. “The mana fluctuations seemed on par with a lesser Rift, so I don't anticipate that we will need to prepare for a week-long excursion. Or worse. But you might be right. It’s prudent to be prepared.”

His voice softens but he still holds my gaze, burning with intensity. When he speaks, his voice is a bedrock of conviction. “Usually, a lesser Rift poses little danger to a pair of senior [Inquisitors], but reality is unsettled these days. Things are creeping in through the cracks.”

“Like the behemoth that Tem and I saw.” My voice squeaks, and I swallow to clear the sudden lump in my throat. My words come out thin and wavering; I’m a mouse given a human tongue, and not a man at all.

Casella nods in affirmation. “Just so. If we encounter calamity, then we run and hide. Better to cut our losses and come back another day.”

“But we have no guarantee that the Army won’t claim the Rift for themselves by then. If I don't get my hands on a core, then what's the point of risking our lives by entering?” I scowl. “At least at Lamont's Falls, I was able to close the Rift.”

“Be happy they’re allowing you access at all,” Mbukhe interjects. He sounds testy for once, which makes me think he's just as displeased about this particular arrangement as I am.

“Yay for us. So happy for a handout,” I say.

“Enough sarcasm. We’re ready.”

I nod to the scout and follow their lead, grumbling as we go. “I’d still feel better if we were allowed to close the Rift afterward. It’s too dangerous to leave it open that close to the city.

“A four hour hike isn’t exactly close by,” Casella points out. “The danger to the citizens is well within acceptable parameters.”

I groan. “Don’t remind me about the walk. I’m a delicate artist, not a field agent. Why don't we fly from here to the Rift using your artifact?”

Casella snorts. His strides lengthen, and he shakes his head. “Expensive and impractical. That contraption is way too mana hungry. We’d have to wait a few hours to recharge before entering, so the time is a wash. The wings are essential for certain situations, but they have limited range. I had to requisition them for our first meeting, since I was more interested in first impressions than actually trying to haul you off the capital.”

“Huh. Theatrics, Casella? I didn't realize you were so crafty,” I say, strangely flattered that he put so much work into convincing me to talk with him. He’s a formidable and clever man. I speed up, drawing even with the higher ranking duo. “So, why didn’t the other [Inquisitors] chase me down with the wings when I skipped town?”

“Mysteriously missing. Someone was using the artifact for a top secret mission,” Mbukhe says with a smirk.

Casella chuckles at my response to the revelation that they were helping me indirectly. “Plus you weren't easy to find, but let's talk about that more in the Rift.”

Ah! The scrying-resistant letter. I grin at the oblique reference to the gift they gave me. Without their bit of inscripted paper obscuring my location until its internal mana ran out—which caused it to disintegrate into dust—I never would have escaped from their colleagues’ clutches.

Lunchtime has come and gone when we reach the location where my friends and I fought the fire bear. I still don't know what that monster is named, but I bet that I'll be well acquainted with that particular variety of beast before long. I slump down on a rock and stretch my sore legs, grateful for a break.

My stomach gurgles, but before I can unpack my food and enjoy a break, an unfamiliar and potent mana signature presses down on my senses. Deep into the Second Threshold. I bolt upright, priming the complex rune for fire, but I release my desperate hold on my mana when I see that Casella and Mbukhe are completely at ease.

“Nicanor,” Mbukhe grunts by way of greeting, slipping out of his stealth Skill to nod at our muscular guest. Mbukhe folds his arms and stares down the newcomer. They’re not exactly friendly, but they aren’t expecting a fight, either.

Nicanor strides through the world like a ship plowing through the waves of the sea. His powerful steps propel him forward twice as far as they should with each pace. Danger hangs about him like a cloak of violence; it feels more natural than his uniform, more true to himself. In his right hand he carries a spear I recognize—the enchanted weapon I claimed during my first foray into a Rift.

His dark eyes glance my way for a brief moment, as if sensing my guarded hostility, and then slide past me. He casually turns his frame, angling himself to address the [Inquisitors] as though I don’t even exist. He doesn’t dismiss me with a sniff or a frown; he simply acts like he forgot about me already. “Well, well. My favorite pair of pack rats.”

I bristle in indignation at Nicanor’s disrespect, but my friends don’t seem fazed. Casella inclines his head. “As always. We have your supplies.”

Nicanor hands over his spear. “Good. The Rift portal is a few thousand paces ahead and to our left; I secured the entrance before you arrived. Move on my command.” His craggy face breaks into a smirk. “And gentlemen? Try to keep up for once.”

Nicanor blurs into action, tearing up the dirt path as he disappears into the underbrush with the [Inquisitors] hot on his heels. Apparently, he isn’t just making idle banter. I’m about to complain about how unfair it is for him to expect us to keep up when a soft, unexpected chime in my mind makes me peek inward. My jaw drops a moment later as I read the notification.

[Spear Commander] Nicanor is sharing Temporary Squad Skill: [My Feet Will Bathe in the Blood of the Wicked].

Huh. I tentatively feed a bit of mana from my glass pseudo cores into the shared Temporary Skill—something I’ve never seen before—and take a few steps. The surge of speed is so intense that I stumble, but I’m still moving about as fast as a hunting dog at full run despite my lack of agility. I recover my balance, get back on track, and try to catch the trio ahead of me.

Laughter bubbles up from within me at the sheer, ludicrous joy of moving so quickly. This must be how Smoke feels when she steals speed from a race horse! Then my eyes grow wide in alarm as I realize I’m on a collision course with an oak tree. I shout and try to dodge the majestic trunk in front of me, but I overcorrect, trip over an exposed root, and end up eating dirt.

I groan, gasping for breath from the force of the impact. My body aches, but nothing seems broken. At least I didn’t lose any teeth, I think wryly. I stagger back up to my feet and keep running, but this time I look farther ahead so that I have more time to react to obstacles in my path.

The three men are waiting for me when I arrive in front of the now-familiar portal into the Rift. Our leader, the [Spear Commander] on loan from the Army, shoots me a scathing look when I jog into the clearing. I’m lagging well behind the others, but I barely pay the bristling officer any mind. My attention is locked onto the opening in space in front of us. I’d recognize that pulsating, soap-bubble film anywhere. I swallow instinctively at the sight.

Nicanor scoffs. “Now that the crippled thief has caught up, let’s go.”

“What about lunch?” I wheeze, doubled over with my hand on my knee. I’m not interested in sneaking through a Rift and fighting off monsters several times stronger than I am on an empty stomach, but from the look of incredulity on Nicanor’s face, that’s exactly what he expects.

“Try not to die,” he growls, and shoulders his way through the portal into the Lesser Rift.

“Now that’s just cruel and inhumane.”

My complaints go unheard, however; Casella and Mbukhe have already gone through the portal, sticking as closely to the [Spear Commander] as they can. I suppose it’s only sensible to follow. Never know what we’ll run into on the inside.

I dig a bit of jerked gazelle meat from my travel sack, gnawing on the tough meat to make a point. They can’t just go on without me! I complain to myself, but the longer I chew, the more I realize that Nicanor can and will abandon me. Happily. I gulp down my bite and scramble through the portal. I leave behind the plane of existence on which I was born, and once more set foot in a Rift.

The first time, I was naive. The second time, desperate. But this time? I’m ready to kick butt.

=+=

The first thing that stands out to me on the other side is how boxed in I am by the weathered, rust-red rock formations. The other members of my party are nowhere in sight, but I keep my mouth shut and don’t call attention to myself. Shouting their names is a great way to attract Rift monsters, not to mention announce how unsuitable of a choice I am for this delve.

I’m sure Nicanor would love nothing more than an excuse to send me packing. I’m probably one of only a handful of civilians in all of Densmore who’s been in a Rift at all, let alone three times, but that won’t carry any weight with someone like him if I screw up right at the beginning. So I make the smart choice and keep quiet.

Grumbling at Nicanor’s dismissive treatment aside, I have work to do. I breathe in through my nose, slow and silent, and hunker down behind a boulder as tall as I am. The huge rock looks like it’s some sort of dark, coarse granite, but it shifts oddly out of the corner of my eye, only seeming to stay still when I look directly at it. I blink, clearing my vision, and scope out the scene before I make a move. The corridor of rough rock is as crooked as a [Politician], and clearly hasn’t been hewn by any tools, but it still reminds me of the Labyrinth back in the first Rift. Great. Another maze.

I emerged from the Rift portal right into a dead end corner of the passageway, so I don’t have to worry about going in the opposite direction my team did, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to leave yet. The last thing I want to do is to rush headlong into danger. Instead, I count slowly to twenty, taking the opportunity to check for monsters and traps. Nothing stands out, so I jog out from my hiding spot, hugging the curve of the wall and keeping my eyes up so that any potential monsters can’t ambush me from above.

Mbukhe is our best scout, so I’m sure he already cleared this area. If there’s danger around, then he’ll find it. That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be vigilant, but it does make me feel less on edge.

A few hundred paces in, the walls rise even higher on either side, leaving only a narrow strip of red sky overhead. I wonder if I’ll ever get used to the color inversions in a Rift. If I stretch, I can reach out with each arm and almost touch the walls on either side. Well, I could if I still had a left hand, I think with a grin.

Every few dozen paces, little clefts in the rock open up. They’re too narrow for two men to walk side by side, but my team could have conceivably taken any of the pathways. The passage I’m on hits a wall, branching into two options, and I pause to check for footprints in the dust. A few faint imprints from a boot lead off to the right, so I follow down another winding path.

Up ahead, another passage bisects the pathway. I slow down as I approach the intersection, and prepare the rune for fire again, leveraging portions of my [Greater Heat Manipulation] in case I need to unleash an attack. Nothing moves, but I edge into the open space sideways, my hand held up at the ready and my back to the wall.

“Took you long enough,” Nicanor grunts as he looks up at me with a scowl before returning to his heated debate. He’s squatting down next to Casella, and from what I can overhear, the two are arguing over which way to go; the [Inquisitor] is inclined to the right, where his partner is scouting, while the Army specialist wants to go left, based on a “hunch.”

“Shouldn’t we just wait for Mbukhe’s report?” I say, my voice quiet so that I won’t attract unwanted attention from the monsters of the Rift.

“Don’t recall asking for input from a civvy,” Nicanor drawls. “My Skills tell me that we’ll find a fight if we go left. Haven’t been wrong before.”

I crouch down beside the pair. “Do we want to fight? I thought we were just looking for the boss. I need that beast core.”

“You wanna just leave dangerous monsters alone?” Nicanor says, his tone rising at the end of his question. “Can’t do that. Asking for trouble.”

“Wouldn’t it be more responsible to close the Rift, then?” I ask, trying to keep the heat out of my voice. I meet his gaze, gauging his willingness to go along with my plan to erase the threat of another incursion near Silaraon.

He shrugs. “Yep. Not my call, though. Know what is? Giving orders while we’re on a mission. Now move out; we’re going left.”

Casella catches my eye and shakes his head, so I content myself with a bottled-up sigh of frustration instead of snapping back at the imperious [Spear Commander]. I fall in line behind the pair of more experienced men, trusting that their fighting prowess will clear a way for us as we push deeper into the twisted maze of the Rift’s rock formations. What is it with all the mazes?

Nicanor’s shared Squad-enhancement Skill doesn’t offer much upside while we’re in the tight confines of this narrow canyon. Moving faster is nice, but when we have to turn a corner every several steps, with our weapons out in case of monsters, the extra speed is closer to a burden than a boon. Our leader seems acutely aware of it, too. He swears under his breath and cancels the share, leaving me feeling dull and drained at the sudden loss.

A moment later, he holds up a fist to signal us to stop. “Contact. Two signatures ahead, maybe more.”

“No more that I can see. Not much here. Core is the other way,” Mbukhe says, dropping down from a cliff wall in front of us. I barely flinch when he reveals himself. I’m getting more and more used to his wily ways. The thirty-foot drop down the sheer cliff doesn’t bother him; he falls more slowly than I would in the same position, like a flying squirrel gliding on the wind, and he stops himself with a single hand on a small outcropping just above the rocky ground.

“Only cowards avoid a fight,” Nicanor challenges. He gestures toward Casella, who’s still carrying the enchanted spear for the Army [Spear Commander], like he’s a mere [Armorbearer]. “Weapon. I’m gonna thin out the native population.”

Casella unslings the spear and presents it to Nicanor with a flourish. “Good hunting. The monsters will never know what hit them.”

“Two fire-breathing lizards up ahead,” Mbukhe reports, drifting back out of the shadows he wrapped himself in a moment earlier when I stopped looking at him. “Need backup?”

“Not likely,” Nicanor says. He frowns. “Stand by just in case. Never know with Rifts. No sense taking needless risk.”

We all nod knowingly, and follow beside him through two more bends in the passageways. Mbukhe leads us down a side-path that I missed at first; it’s so narrow that we have to turn sideways to squeeze between the sharp pincers of stone. On the other side of the crack, the ground slopes down, leading to a broad, open area about as large as the courtyard at the glass studio.

Two black-scaled creatures larger than bulls are facing off, spitting fire and stamping at the ground threateningly. Sharp spines stick out from huge, leathery neck frills, making them look twice as wide as a carriage, and their jagged teeth and long, curved claws look like they could gut a war horse with ease.

Nicanor cracks his neck. He spins the spear in his grip twice, then beckons me over. “Watch closely, boy. This is how a man fights.”

He kicks off from the wall, roaring out a war cry as he accelerates away from us and catching the attention of the monsters. Plumes of dust kick up from each footfall. He vaults over a pile of loose rocks at the base of the meandering path, laughing as he soars toward the massive lizards.

The first one growls, preparing to snap at Nicanor while he’s mid air. It belches out a gout of flames and destruction, and I wince at the potency of the heat rippling off the attack. It’s drying out my eyes all the way over here.

Yet Nicanor simply flicks his spear. With a smooth surge of condensed power, an unfamiliar mana Skill activates, and the spear cleaves through the breath attack. The white-hot fire parts, gushing around him like water flowing around an unyielding boulder in the middle of a stream. If the heat bothers him, then he doesn’t let the discomfort show. The [Spear Commander] slams shoulder-first into the huge lizard, caving in its skull and sending it sprawling across the ground in a spray of dark ichor.

The second lizard spins to face him, hissing in anger. It rattles its spines, shaking its head and dancing side to side in a show of aggression. Scaled lips peel back; sharp teeth click open in a terrifying grin as its jaws distends, yawning wide like a specter of death. Air rushes into its open maw, and its chest swells up as it prepares a breath attack.

Nicanor brings his weapon to bear. He braces himself, then shouts out a Skill at the top of his lungs, staggering me with the sheer intensity of the sound. “[I Will Pin Him to the Earth with One Stroke of My Spear]!” His imperious voice echoes throughout the Rift’s alien landscape.

Nicanor crouches slightly, leaning forward to shift his weight in preparation for a bull rush. His spear glows as he finishes speaking, blindingly bright in my emerging mana senses, and he hurtles forward.

The black-scaled beast buckles on impact. Nicanor’s spear pierces all the way through its chest, burying itself an arm’s length into the rock below and pinning his target to the ground. He stands there, triumphant, his weapon fully extended, and then floats back down to the rocky path.

I stare, my mouth hanging slack. Guess wasn’t overselling his prowess. His arrogance is earned. I’m still not sure I like Nicanor, but fighting my way through a Rift with him on my side is way more fun than going through it solo.

Nothing was as fun as exploring with Smoke.

That stray thought brings a smile to my face as we join the [Spear Commander] in the shallow bowl of cleared-out, mottled rock. I give him a nod of respect, but he doesn’t respond. He’s already flicked the blood off his blade and resumed a ready stance, scanning the horizon for more threats—or targets.

Fire crackles from a foreboding corridor to the side, followed shortly thereafter by roars that remind me of the huge bear we fought with Ember. Before I can discuss battle strategy, Nicanor strides toward the ruckus, a grim smile twisting his face into a sinister mask of violence.

Nicanor tosses the spear back and forth between his hands and cracks his neck again. “Feels good to let loose again. Go on toward the core. I’ll catch up after I’m done taking out the trash.”

“I’ll leave you a trail,” Casella calls after the [Spear Commander], but Nicanor is already charging into the thick of the fray without a backward glance.

Casella and I retrace our steps toward the intersection where I found them, while Mbukhe climbs up to the top of the cliff wall once more, watching from above so he can warn us if he comes across any danger. It’s a slow, boring trek after our mad dash through the twist and turns of the maze, but with the ever-reliable Mbukhe as our guide, we make it to the narrow corridor without incident.

Mbukhe skitters down the wall like a spider, clinging to holds in the rock I can barely make out. He seems to melt into every shadow and blend into the rough texture of the brown and dull orange rock, but if I concentrate on empowering my eyesight with extra mana, then I can follow his movements more easily. He releases his grip and lands in a crouch on the other side of us, motioning for us to follow him down a side channel, deeper into the maze.

The three of us fall into an easy lope, trusting Mbukhe’s superior sense of perception to keep us safe from attack. We aren’t moving as fast as when Nicanor’s Skill spurred us on, but the time passes more quickly to me anyway. Maybe the improved company helps me relax and not stress about the time constraints or the danger.

“Hold up, my friend,” Casella calls softly a few minutes later. We stop to see what he has in mind. “We are safe, yes?” When Mbukhe nods, he motions for us to sit on the hard, unyielding rock beneath our feet.

“While we are far from listening ears, let us resume our training. Nuri, the time has come for you to practice viewing. While your [Manasight] isn’t recovered, I suspect you’ve been practicing diligently to see the flow of mana in the meantime. Tell me, can you follow what I’m doing right now?”

I draw mana from my glass cores and cycle it to my eyes to empower my vision, concentrating on the minute energy fluctuations in the area. At first, I see nothing other than tiny ripples, like the aftermath of throwing a rock into a pond. As I slow down and breathe, remembering the shape and intent of the complex runes that make up my old [Manasight], the spell form of Casella’s Skill flickers into focus.

I frown. “Huh. But that’s [Manasight].”

He chuckles. “Close, but not quite. Look again, my young friend. And then—look beyond.”