Everyn perched on the edge of the slowly crumbling sandstone wall, the tips of her boots hanging over the expanse of space that would mean certain death if she were to slip.

  The low rumble of explosions rocked the upper city. From here she could just barely see the reflection of the purple and white flames off the dark smokey sky.

  She dug her nail absentmindedly through the fresh carved grooves on the crossbow balancing on her knee.

  Two new lines for the Fae her platoon managed to kill around sundown.

  The war has been raging for just over 5 years now and yet her crossbow had not 500 tallies. Of those marks, only two dozen were her own kills.

  And yet, she had not succeeded in her personal mission.

  Unfortunately, killing Fae wasn’t the true job of her small party.

  Their job was to quickly gather and transport supplies from the few ships that dared their waters anymore. Just such a shipment was what she was supposed to be watching for.

  She gripped the crossbow reflexivity as an explosion shook the wall further down, closer to the middle city, her other hand clenched the rough stone.

  They were getting closer. The mages were holding them off as well as they could but the Fae numbers only seemed to grow and the armour they wore was strange, not impervious but highly resistant to magic. Not to mention how otherworldly strong the Faes’ own magical attacks were. A single Fae spell could kill even a Master mage.

  The only saving grace was that if you did manage to get through their defences the wearer would perish almost instantly.

  She resisted the urge to follow the explosion and try to get another tally for her collection. Unfortunately, alone, she stood no chance. Her teammates were spread along the same wall, looking for the first sign of a sail through the haze. Following that whim would be suicide.

  “Ev!” Sterling’s voice hissed urgently through the Com-Gem sewn into her collar. “They’re arriving. You heard that blast too, right? Gonna have to be quick. You and Val to the shipyard, Ryala and I will cover for you.”

  Everyn wanted to protest but there was no point. She’d had this argument a thousand times and lost 999 of them. She was by far the fastest and was the next strongest after Valan. As much as she wished to be on the frontline of battle, she was best suited to get in and out as quickly as possible.

  And, though she’d never admit it outloud, they were more magically capable than her. While she was near Master level in Alchemy, the other disciplines always seemed to elude her.

  So instead of trying to argue this fruitless point, she hooked the metal ring of her belt around the loop of thick rope dangling next to her, slinging her crossbow strap over her shoulder.

  She stood upright, tugging at the ring ensuring its strength as the sulphuric wind blew loose curls into her eyes.

  Tucking the curls back into her hood, she glanced back at the spool of rope behind her. It was as well affixed to the wall as anything could be in the wall's current state.

  She took a deep breath, turned around, and leaned over the edge of the wall.

  She’d drop quickly, nearly as fast as she would without the rope. She’d have to time her push off the wall perfectly or the edge of the nearby roof she was trying to land on would take her head off before the rest of her hit the ground. Or she could miss the jump entirely and have to brave the open streets, likely with a broken leg at the speed at which she’d be falling.

  No, the roof was safer, even with the possibility of an accidental beheading.

  She pushed off, rappelling rapidly down the wall, the soles of her boots against the powderizing sandstone the only nearby sound.

  4….3…2…

  And kick.

  She shoved as hard as she could, her body swinging out off the wall, arching across the gap.

  The air was forced out of her in the exact moment she realized she miscalculated. Her back made contact with the edge of the flat roof. Luckily her reflexes were fast as she quickly twisted, snagging the splintery wooden frame with one arm, grabbing quickly with the other hand as the rope continued to descend into the darkness beneath her.

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  Her shoes scrambled against the old adobe as she hauled herself up with all the might left that hadn’t been just knocked out of her, finally leaving her sprawled across the grimy roof surface, staring up at the hazy purple clouds above.

  “Ev, Are you alright?” Sterling’s low voice came through her collar. He must have heard her impact.

  “I’m fine.” She wheezed.

  “What happened?”

  Ev rolled over and pushed herself to her feet, “Nothing. I’ll be at the dock in 40 seconds.”

  In the densely built lower city, the jumps from rooftop to rooftop were easy. Half the time she didn’t even need the extra boost, her singular Runebind draining hardly any extra of her power.

  She was six seconds early from the estimate she gave Sterling.

  Valan was already waiting, crouched low behind the remains of one of the old vendor stalls. Though, it was not like it did much to hide his enormous form, but if you weren’t really looking you might not notice him in the shadowy space; His uniform black clothing, the same color as night shadows.

  The others weren’t visible, but she knew they’d be guarding them silently from the high ground and shadows. Sterling on a rooftop, ready with long range combat magic. Ryala was perfectly shrouded somewhere in an alleyway nearby, completely undetectable without powerful magic and even still hard to discover with it.

  The ship was nearby, painted dark to blend in with the waves. It wouldn't stop, only slow, to throw the supply crate overboard.

  It was Ev’s job to pull it to the dock’s edge before it sunk and Valan’s job to haul her and it from the water so they could make their return to basecamp.

  Simple. In theory.

  But ships, even camouflaged ones, drew attention.

  The enemy were likely already on the way. They were efficient. Hungry and weak soldiers were easier to beat. Sick citizens were easier to whisk away to who knows where.

  The only thing for certain, if they were ever seen again, they weren’t sick anymore.

  Ev ducked into the shadows next to Valan.

  Valan’s gold eyes glowed ever so dimly, “It’s two tonight.” His Continental Virthhelm accent was thick and sweet as honey.

  He and Ryala were of the few idiots who decided to come from overseas seas to the heart of the invasion to help the efforts to keep the infection from spreading to other continents. Valan from Blumherth, Ryala from Eastern Aldir.

  “Risky,” Ev muttered, almost wishing she could see the ship with his eyes.

  She’d chosen agility, he’d chosen perception. There were times she’d wished she’d given more thought to that choice. Agility was useful, but there was no nuance to her work.

  “Three seconds,” Valan whispered.

  Everyn readied herself, poised for the perhaps ten second dash to the end of the dock. She took a deep breath, steading her racing heart.

  Ten seconds there, twenty second swim, ten seconds back. It was a quick sprint, easy. The air was still, the streets silent save for the low rumbling of the upper city battles.

  But anything could happen in 40 seconds. She’d seen worse happen in far less.

  The old wood was already creaking from her soft sprint before she heard the two quiet splashes of the crates hitting the water before the ships sails unfurled and they were speeding off into the night.

  A second behind her, Valan’s steps were far less delicate. Each pounding smack of his heavy boots was excruciatingly loud, but the need to be quick outweighed the need for stealth, as painful as it was.

  She reached the end of the dock, pushing off, straightening her body like an arrow.

  She hit the water with as much sound as the soft waves hitting the dock’s supports.

  Everyn tensed, unintentionally slowing down as the salt water soaked her clothes and stung her back. Hitting the roof's edge must have taken off a good chunk of skin.

  Regardless, she pushed herself. Every second out in the open like this was an enormous risk.

  She reached the first crate, hooking her arm around the looped rope affixed to it. Flipping onto her back to breathe, she pushed her legs to their limit. It'll be faster to make two laps opposed to hauling both crates at once.

  Something fragile and glass inside clinked against themselves and the wood as she pulled the crate back to Valan. It sounded like nearly empty jars made of very thin glass, which could only mean alchemical ingredients.

  Everyn silently thanked the gods.

  There were few mages of the ‘true’ disciplines dedicated to healing left. Which left that role to the alchemists, like Everyn.

  And ingredients were becoming increasingly scarce. The Fae were smart, burning fields and greenhouses first. They kept the humans weak, injured, and sick.

  As Valan hauled the first crate up by the ropes onto the dock with ease, Everyn was already halfway to the second.

  This one was lighter, quiet. Maybe bandages or cloth?

  It didn’t matter. At this point, anything was useful.

  Valen yanked up the second crate with more ease than the first.

  But as he offered her a hand out of the water something bright exploded behind him, knocking him down to the edge of the dock, nearly into the water with her.

  40 seconds. So much could go wrong in just 40 seconds.