The talk with Brent left a bad taste in Verdan’s mouth, but thankfully Ruth’s tarts were just as good as promised, and by the time they left, he was in a better mood.

  “So, what was all that with Brent?” Natalia asked as they started back home, arms linked as they enjoyed the cool evening breeze.

  “A message from Tobias,” Verdan said, not trying to hide anything from her. “In essence, he says that he can’t help right now, so I should just take it all on the chin. Nothing that he hasn’t said before, but I think he could see how I was feeling after the council meeting.”

  “Why couldn’t he say that himself?”

  “Politics,” Verdan grimaced in distaste at the word. “If he wants to ingratiate himself with the other councillors, we can’t be too friendly.”

  “I suppose I can understand that, but it doesn’t do much for you, does it?”

  “Not really, no.” Verdan sighed before stopping and leaning in for a kiss. “Enough worrying, how about we take the long way home?”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  They shared an affectionate smile before heading off at a slow pace, simply enjoying the quiet evening and the distant stars above.

  -**-

  The next day Brent arrived with the leftover tarts that Ruth had made, and a short verbal message from Tobias. It wasn’t much, and even calling it a message felt generous.

  “The city has done too much for others, we need to focus on ourselves. Once we are stable, we can look at helping again.”

  It was a shortsighted outlook on the issues in Verdan’s opinion. He could understand the foundation of it, the fear born from how much had happened in the last few years, but this wasn’t the way to react.

  Tobias no doubt thought that if he could simply spend some time working on the city, he could bring things back to the way they were. Unfortunately, that was impossible. Too many people had died and too much had been changed for things to go back.

  In Verdan’s opinion, Tobias was closing his eyes to the greater problems in an attempt to stay relevant within the city. He doubted it would work. He also disliked how quickly things were changing in the city. The new councillors were just that, newcomers to the city. Arber’s people had earned a lot of goodwill helping around the city, but even so, this was happening quickly.

  If Tobias thought that passive action was going to change anything, he was wrong. Unfortunately, Verdan had no idea what to do instead, which was frustrating.

  Sighing, Verdan ran a hand through his hair and turned to head back to the workshop. Natalia had mentioned she had an issue she needed help with over breakfast, but he’d been caught up working on the Aether-storage crystals. Hopefully, it wasn’t anything too serious.

  Verdan was barely a few steps from the door when he heard someone shouting from the street, alongside the sound of running. Turning, Verdan saw the guards on duty at the gate react to the noise. He trusted them to deal with whatever it was, but waited a few moments anyway, just in case they needed support.

  A moment later a Kranjir woman skidded into view, her chest heaving as she panted for breath. Sweat was dripping from her face, and she looked moments from passing out. Verdan vaguely recognised her as a Mhorgain shieldguard, but she wasn’t wearing any armour or carrying a weapon, not even a belt knife.

  Seeing Verdan, the woman tried to push past one of the guards, lifting a hand to catch his attention. The guard didn’t let her, of course, but Verdan walked over all the same. “Let her through.”

  “Wizard,” the woman said, gasping out the words. “Refugees. Darjee attack. Wounded need you.”

  Verdan nodded grimly, understanding in an instant. “Has someone gone for a Cleric?”

  The shieldguard nodded, relaxing as she saw that he understood the message.

  “Nikau!” Verdan called out to his Captain, who was emerging from the guard post. “Get this woman some water and then get a squad over to the northern gate as soon as possible. I’m going ahead.”

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  “Understood,” Nikau said, snapping out orders before turning on his heel and rushing back inside. Most likely to arm himself and lead that squad personally, if Verdan knew him at all.

  Barb had not long come off duty but was already buckling her belt back on and jogging over. “I’ll come with you, Boss.”

  Verdan knew better than to argue, and time was crucial right now. If there were wounded or captured Kranjir outside the city, every moment counted. Opening his mouth to call out the Words of Power for his spell, Verdan realised with a start that Rocky was walking over to him.

  He hadn’t called the construct to him, and he could feel that there wasn’t anything in the spell compelling this action. This wasn’t like the other night, he could feel that it was unprompted.

  There was also no time for questions, and for all that he didn’t understand, Verdan knew Rocky was a product of his magic and intent. “Grym gward hast!”

  Aether rolled out over the three of them, slowing the world as magic flowed through them. Motioning for Barb and Rocky to follow, Verdan walked out onto the street and slowly sped up.

  They needed to stay close together for the spell, and a jog while hasted was a sprint in any other circumstances. The two biggest issues would be staying close together while moving at speed, and dodging things that were moving a lot slower than them.

  Usually, it was the challenge of the second problem that caused the first, but that was the way of things.

  Thankfully, the haste spell empowered reaction time and agility, not just raw speed, so slipping around groups on the road wasn’t too hard. Well, not for him and Barb. Rocky was probably having a tougher time of it.

  Difficulties aside, it let them get to the Kranjir quarter in just ten minutes. It would have been quicker if they’d been able to going as fast as possible, but that was too dangerous inside the city.

  The first sign that things were as serious as he’d feared was the lack of shieldguards patrolling the area. Verdan saw a pair of Bastian’s fighters in the distance, but no Kranjir. As best he could tell, the city guard were all but leaving the policing of this part of the city to the Kranjir, so there absolutely should have been someone in sight.

  Slowing down, Verdan cast a simple detection spell for Aether sources. To his surprise, only one of any decent size showed up. Dirk and his Thearns should have been nearby and easily spotted, but there was nothing.

  Heading to the source he’d found, Verdan dismissed the haste spell and clutched his staff tight. There was a growing knot of unease in his stomach that wasn’t passing.

  “Master!” Magnus turned as he heard Rocky’s heavy footsteps and all but sagged in relief. Verdan’s apprentice was standing with Sinead and Baird at a sheltered market stall where a map lay staked out on a barrel. “Thank you for coming as quickly as you could.”

  “Of course. What’s the situation?” Verdan walked over to join them, Barb and Rocky flanking him as he approached the impromptu meeting.

  “We received a message from Gruthka this morning,” Sinead said, pointing down at the map. “Some of his people saw that a forest camp was being raided. It’s a shared space, used by both our people and some of the city’s hunters as a safe resting place. The Fwyn were unable to help, but they did see survivors take shelter in some caves. The Darjee were hunting them, but they were safe.”

  “Wait, the message said refugees,” Verdan said, cocking his head to one side. “And why wait until now to tell me?”

  “Because that was this morning,” Baird said, his gruff voice matching his rough appearance. “Chosen Svenstan led his Thearns out to rescue the group, alongside half of my people. Anything less would have been too dangerous with that many Darjee on the loose. Since then, a group of Mhorgain travellers has arrived. They have a dozen injured and more lost to the Darjee.”

  “Take me to the injured while we talk,” Verdan said firmly. It felt oddly satisfying to hear someone experience like Baird refer to Dirk as a Chosen. Technically, he was as much one as Ciaran, but that only went so far.

  “This way.” Sinead gestured for him to follow as she hurried to a nearby building. “We’ve sent a runner to Branwen and Bastian is away with Dirk. Unless we are lucky, it will take time for her to arrive. Time some of these people don’t have.”

  “I will do what I can,” Verdan promised, already preparing the visualisation for a healing spell. “So what can we do about those taken? Are the city guard getting involved?”

  “We brought the matter to Commander Silver this morning, but he said that he had standing orders not to move north except in response to a direct attack.”

  “This wasn’t a direct attack?” Verdan turned an incredulous look to Sinead, who scowled and shook her head.

  “There were no city dwellers hurt, just our clansfolk.”

  Verdan bit back a dozen curses and simply nodded jerkily. He understood the situation well enough. There was only one thing he didn’t understand, though. “Why not tell me?”

  “With the city not being involved, Dirk didn’t want to put you between us. He said that things are tough enough for you as it is. Bastian was here anyway, and volunteered, which covered the healing side.”

  Verdan didn’t like it, but he appreciated what his apprentice had done, even if it was unnecessary. He would prefer to keep his relationship with the city intact, but if it came down to helping innocent people or staying in the good graces of the city, the choice was simple. Perhaps not easy, but simple all the same.

  “Understood. Now, what’s your plan for those taken by the Darjee?” Verdan asked as Sinead opened a door to a small storehouse. The interior was lined with cots and wounded Kranjir, some bearing only cuts and grazes whilst others were barely holding on.

  “I’m going to take the rest of the shieldguards out to do what we can,” Baird said solemnly. “I don’t expect it to be much, but we’ll try.”

  “I’ll come as well,” Magnus said, squaring his shoulders as Baird turned to look at him. “You need a Chosen, you need magic. With Dirk gone, Verdan and I are the next best thing.”

  “Agreed,” Sinead said, turning to Verdan. “Clan Mhorgain asks for aid. Can you help us?”