"Here."
Seiren looked up from the skewered rabbit leg she'd been munching over, her hands covered in its grease despite the cloth she'd wrapped around it. Halen Ashworth stood to her left and stared on ahead, a piece of paper held out in her hand.
"What is it?" Seiren said through a mouthful of meat.
"You wanted to learn blue runes, right?"
The shock of Ashworth helping Seiren of her own volition made Seiren inhale the last mouthful instead of swallowing it. Tears sprang to her eyes as her airway contracted and she coughed and spluttered, saliva spraying across the snow-covered ground.
Nice. So graceful, Seiren.
Ashworth waited without a word until Seiren had finished hacking a lung out and wrapped up the remains of her food. Seiren cleaned her fingers with another cloth before accepting the proffered rune. Her eyes widened.
"But King's always taught us to use eight-sided runes to lock in a blue rune."
"But nobody at King's has actually used one, though, have they?" There was a sneer in Ashworth's words. "They teach us the basics of the red, orange, and yellow, and yet none of us are capable of doing more than shake a table. And it's only when we have sufficient years' training under our belt, when we are truly in the throes of the magehood, do we get powerful -- and that's when we are fully under their control. Use this one. Six locking circles are all you need, provided you don't add any more lines to it."
Seiren studied the shape. She remembered this -- from their fight back in Recca Mirren's house in Iwade. Her limbs tingled, as if recalling the shock that paralysed her entire body. Six locking circles, four with a duration reduction sigil and two with an invisibility sigil within.
"It's the reduced duration that gives the explosion in electricity," said Ashworth, as if reading Seiren's mind. "The interlinking lines gives it the energy you need. You shouldn't need to add more lines. If you want greater energy, replace the invisibility sigils with time reduction, and similarly if you want less energy, add more invisibility sigils. The art is knowing how far to space out the broken lines and memorising the layout -- although I believe memorising shouldn't be a problem for you."
Seiren's eyes flicked up at her. She wiped her mouth.
"I saw you sketching runes that would take years of memorising when we raided that village. That memory of yours must come in useful when runing."
"It does."
"Well, this shouldn't be hard for you, then. Just practise."
"And the risk about electrocuting ourselves..."
"Oh, yes, that risk very much exists." There was a gleam in Ashworth's eyes that reminded Seiren of a cat toying with a mouse before it pounced. "I trust you won't be foolish enough to play too much with the rune. But then again, given what you've created, I might be asking too much."
Seiren thought of a bad word as the older woman turned around and stalked off to take the next watch over the still-unconscious Butterworth. Whatever rune Bellamy Southwark had put him under was working a charm to keep him unconscious. Southwark studied a map with Rowan and squinted up at the sky not too far away. Seiren stuffed the rest of the remaining leg into her mouth with her other hand and chewed; the meat had gotten cold during their brief interaction. She should have kept that orange rune burning for a while longer. Her fingers turned blue and tingled. She stuck them inside her fur-lined cloak and rubbed them together, shivering.
"Are you still sure you want to go to Benover, Woodbead?" Southwark said. Seiren could just about hear their conversation from where she was. Their breaths came up as puffs of mist. "A lot has changed since you left."
"Oh?"
"There's a set curfew for Benovans. Nobody is allowed out of their residencies beyond eight o'clock. Soldiers patrol the roads in pairs -- it's almost a lockdown. Nobody gets in or out without a thorough search."
"Then that means I can get directly to the king's mages if I come in with Butterworth in tow."
"It's a suicide mission, I tell you. Whatever made you think the king's mages would yield to your demands just because you have Butterworth, rest assured it is only insanity. Whatever the king's mages have planned, they will do whatever it takes, kill whoever it takes, to achieve that goal."
"I appreciate your concern, Mage Southwark. I would not be doing this if I didn't have to. But what you said just makes it all the more important I do return there to trade for their safety. Like you said, Kommora Haigh is our last hope as a major power source if we are to fight against the king's mages. I have subordinates and comrades there. The mages who escaped Acrise would also no doubt make their way there. What kind of team player am I if I abandon my fellow men?"
There was a long pause as Southwark lowered his map and contemplated Rowan.
"Admirable notion, Woodbead. Foolish, but admirable." Southwark clapped Rowan on the shoulder with a pitying shake of his head.
"How had you intended to beat them then, Bellamy?" Seiren said. It was then she realised they hadn't noticed her eavesdropping until now. Rowan's eyes widened. Southwark frowned and pursed his lip. The air tensed. A blush crept up Seiren's neck and burnt her skin to the tips of her ears despite the arctic temperature. She had the feeling that, amiable had Southwark been until this point, he was not one to cross and did not suffer fools easily.
"The power lies with the king's mages. If they die, we overthrow their tyranny."
"You can't even kill Butterworth head-on. What makes you think you can take on the rest of them?"
"Bar Karis Bonneville and her repugnant organic magic, the other two are not renowned for their fighting. I've been around longer than you have, Nithercott. They may be powerful mages and cunning in their minds, but they are only humans. Even Karis Bonneville, with her formidable magic, is childish and easily manipulated."
"The element of surprise will only give you that much leverage. Just because the king's mages don't know who you are--"
"I think you'll find they do."
Seiren gaped.
"But how?"
"After your showdown with Halen, she was captured. The king's mages took her into custody for 'questioning'." Southwark's features darkened and Seiren saw a chilling side to the serious but straight-laced mage. "Or, as we call it, torture. They tried to siphon information from her, including the rest of our names and our plans."
"I'm surprised she's still alive, considering the company she was with," said Rowan with a frown.
"You should be. It took all three of us to free her."
"Three?" Seiren said in surprise. "There's one more? Who?"
"You think after our names are compromised I'll be so willing to say out loud? She's safe. And she's my ears in Benover. That's all you need to know."
"You got her out of the king's mages' hands. That's impressive," said Rowan.
"It was just the opportune moment. That was all."
"Bellamy." With just one deliberate word, Ashworth caught the attention of the three of them. Southwark straightened up, his mouth pressed in a firm line, and strode towards the cart where the two horses grazed.
Seiren hurried after Rowan. He, too, seemed to have sensed the shift in the air.
"Quite an impressive rune you have there, Southwark." Butterworth's smooth voice chilled Seiren to the core. She halted immediately behind Rowan, who had stiffened. "And this rope... courtesy of Ashworth? You must pass on my congratulations on--"
"You shouldn't even be awake right now."
Seiren could detect a barely-hidden tremor in Southwark's voice. Butterworth's lips curled, twisting his features in an even more grotesque manner. He'd managed to sit himself up in the cart, his arms still bound tightly behind his back and his legs tied together. He spotted Tesla Relish and his eyebrow rose.
"Oh, my. Who's done the good deed on your face, Relish? Surely not even Southwark here is proficient enough with green runes to heal damage from my steam. Shame. I thought my improvement was a job well done."
Relish pressed her lips together, her hands curled into fists. The silent hatred radiated off her in waves even though Seiren couldn't fully see her face. Butterworth sensed it and grinned wider. His eyes wandered to Rowan, standing beside Relish.
"Rowan Woodbead. I have to say, I'm not surprised you tucked your tail and ran. It's not the first time, is it? But teaming up with the enemy -- you have stooped low."
"You shut your mouth, Butterworth," Rowan said in a quiet but deadly tone. His back trembled.
"Touched a nerve, have I? I wonder if Acrise's destruction is due to your failure. If you had been a military mage instead, you could have been of some help. If only you had more skill, then your people wouldn't have to die for your incompetence. It's history repeating itself, because nothing's changed."
"He's trying to goad you, Woodbead," said Southwark, to Seiren's far right. "We're not here to be played by your words--"
"Slora and old man Woodbead had already paid with their lives for your shortcomings." Butterworth's eyes glittered. "I wonder who'll be next? Not Rummage, although it's a shame you found her so injured. I should have been more considerate and chopped her into pieces so you wouldn't recognise her. How about your sister? Or your little underlings--"
"I said shut your mouth!" Rowan snarled, going scarlet. He raised his arms, about to clap and kill Butterworth with burst magic. Seiren's hands shot out and clamped over his wrists. He jerked with force wholly unexpected for someone so short, almost sending her tumbling to the ground. She gasped, clinging on with all her might. He whipped his head to her, almost spitting at her in rage. "Let go of my bloody arm!"
Seiren's eyes widened. Rowan was almost unrecognisable, his features scarlet and the facial muscles all tensed. The sincere and kind Rowan she'd known shattered. He looked as if he wanted to strike her. As if sensing that, too, Relish clamped a hand on his other shoulder, her brows knitted together.
"Tesla, please escort Woodbead aside before he hurts himself," said Southwark in a quiet voice. "I'll sort this."
He drew paper and chalk from his pocket. Relish tightened her hold and almost dragged Rowan away. Seiren's arms flopped to her sides. She could still hear his laboured, furious breathing in her ear even when their footsteps faded.
"Oh, my, how scary. I wasn't even the one who killed Rummage." Butterworth whistled.
Seiren turned, numb, to Butterworth. His hair stuck up at odd angles and his spectacles had gotten crooked, one lens cracked, and a bruise blossomed over the intact eye. It would look almost pitiful except those hazel eyes were bottomless, soulless pits that reminded Seiren of an approaching, deadly predator that could easily swallow her whole.
"Ah, Seiren Nithercott. The bane of my life. It's hard to believe someone would actually be happy to see what I'm seeing. But often our hands are tied -- figuratively and literally."
She stared. Again, talking in riddles.
"At least you're not lying somewhere with your stomach slit open in that tragic little city. How does it feel to single-handedly bring down the supposedly impenetrable city and kill those that lay their lives down for you?"
"Fantastic, because nobody died. Your fancy little plan was thwarted," she spat.
Don't talk back. It's what he wants.
What he wants is a kick up his ass.
"Oh, I wouldn't say that," was his mild-mannered response. "Acrisians dying was just the cherry on the cake. This is going entirely as I planned."
He gave a benign smile, but even that seemed sinister.
"Those creatures are weak to nullifiers. That's a weakness you king's mages didn't envision because I made them. I know how they work."
"Don't go blabbing about this now... your tongue functions much better inside your mouth than out."
Seiren's nostrils flared, but before she could get to Butterworth, Southwark stepped in and placed a rune on his back. There was an indigo glow. Butterworth's eyes rolled to the back of his head and he flopped backwards in his seat. Southwark made no attempt to stop him from slamming his head on the wooden seat and then rolling onto the cart floor.
"Let's head to Lydden. Our time is running out."
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