Act III: "Where Angels Sleep"

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          Cedwyn, Jace and Artemus Ward were halfway through Paladin Hall when the door flew open behind them and Isabelle came running in.

         “Jace!” she called, spotting him.

          He turned around, slightly behind the others.

         “Hey.”

         Slowing to a walk, she started to withdraw the necklace, but when she saw Artemus looking on with interest, let it go.

         “You’re soaked,” Jace said, looking her over.

         Her focus shifted back to him.

         “Ya think?”

         “What were you doing?”

         “Something with Relic,” she said, ever mindful of present company.

         “Oh. You alright?”

         “Yeah.” She took an extra moment to catch her breath. “Yeah, I’m fine. There’s just …” She tilted her head down, lowering her voice. “Something we need to talk about later.” When she raised her eyeline again, she noticed Jace was just staring, and a quirky little smile curved her lips. “Are you alright?”

         “Me? I’m way good.” Then he motioned her closer with two fingers, bending slightly.

          Leaning in, Isabelle raised her eyebrows, a sort of tentative amusement on her features as she turned her ear close to his mouth.

         “What?”

          Jace leaned closer still.

         “You’re pretty,” he whispered.

         With a mock gasp, Isabelle narrowed her eyes as she looked into his. Their faces were just inches apart.

         “You’ve been drinking,” she said.

         Just then, Relic burst into the corridor and she stood up and back.

         “Hey, Relic,” Jace greeted him, having never moved a muscle. He waited a second and smiled. “Not enough light in here for ya?”

         Relic glanced down to the lantern, realizing only then that it was still in his hand.

         “Just set that down anywhere, son,” Artemus called from where he was in the midst of conversation with Cedwyn. “Only I wonder if you’d be so kind as to keep it away from our knights. I think Charles has reassembled enough of them for one day.”

          Relic smiled, a little embarrassed as he extinguished the lantern and placed it beside the door.

         “I saw Hazel leaving the mansion,” he said.

         Artemus nodded.

         Relic took a few steps further in, closer to Jace and Isabelle.

         “Where is she going?”          

         “Why … on a mission, of course.”

         “What kind of mission?”

         “The secret kind, I’m afraid.”

          Relic glanced to Jace then, expecting him, perhaps, to help in pressing Artemus further, or at least share in his concern. Instead, he found him paying no attention at all, more interested in examining a loose string at the end of his sleeve.

          Artemus extended his arm toward the opposite end of the hallway.

         “Now. I really must insist we proceed. Praetor Duchyene is waiting.”

          Isabelle giggled.

         “Praetor Duchyene,” she said, making her way with Jace and Relic to the other two men up ahead. “Still sounds strange to me.”

         When the five were gathered, Artemus continued to lead, and the Outriders followed in the empty sight of the knights. The hall was much different from how it appeared that afternoon. The windows were black with night; flooded every so often by a flash of electric blue, and the corridor was warmly illuminated by an unseen ambient light. This too troubled Relic; reminding him of the luminous crystals golden riders attached to their horses. Normally, especially since Fairlawn, Relic thought, Jace would have noticed the similarity as well.

         But he didn’t.

         Reaching the end of Paladin Hall, they passed into an immense rotunda where a dozen corridors intersected and led off across gleaming marble floors. Exquisite tile work covered the walls, depicting mythical beasts in different settings: here, a golden-plumed griffon rose from among majestic redwoods, while there, a pack of cabbits reared vigilantly amidst some desert brush, their slitted eyes gleaming jade. But by far the largest creature was a thrashing serpent, sea foam glistening on its impeccably rendered scales, as its elongated jaw opened in a howl of dominance.

          Though the creatures seemed far apart, the scenes all blended as they rose, the sky taking on the same grayish tinge it bore behind the snapping leviathan. The eye was drawn up through sweeping, storm-whipped clouds all the way to a high, domed cathedral ceiling – and this was covered with a raised panel of a jewel-inlaid map, each detail picked out in priceless gems. Even the dozens of flowers they had seen as they galloped through the fields were not as rich and diverse in color as this single work of art.

          Arrayed around the center point of the strange map, a quartz and quicksilver compass, easily the size of a small table, sat on the highly polished floor. As they passed, they saw its needles were pointed due northward. But it was the elegant spiral staircase in the center of it all that Artemus made his way toward.

          Again, he was blind to the splendors around him. Numbed by the years of living there.

         “This place is like a maze,” Jace said, and all around seemed surprised as the speech interrupted a long quiet when only the rain and sound of their footsteps broke the silence.

         Artemus didn’t appear surprised at all, answering with the calm casualness with which he constantly carried himself.

         “I remember sharing that sentiment myself when I first arrived here,” he said. “But it shrinks in short order. Like anything else, it’s simply a matter of time.”

         They were at the bottom of the stairs now, making their way into yet another straightaway, but while this lower section of the rotunda was identical in layout, there was only one corridor, leading to the north.

         Now the four stood at the edge of another circular room. The ceiling here was domed stone, but it was not as lavish as before; the ceiling was painted with a delicate symbol, something like knotwork, that incorporated intricate and carefully balanced arcs. Around this tangle was a border of elaborate runes, and the entire thing was exactly as large as the fountain that stood below it.

         All around the fountain stood a lavish garden, every flower, bush and fruit seeming amazingly oversized. It was as if everything had been allowed to grow wild on some fantastic, secret nourishment, yet nothing crept across the paths or interfered with any other living thing around it. Trees and berries grew everywhere, and the artificial light shone brightest here. Exotic birds were chirping in the boughs, tempting the onlookers to contemplate a wildlife sanctuary beautiful and surreal. It went back as far as they could see.  All of the Outriders were mesmerized.

         Relic turned to take a step into the place, but Artemus held out a hand, grabbing the Outrider’s arm with such force that it drew attention from the others. The action might have been suspicious, a not-so-subtle attempt to keep them from getting a better view of this spectacular chamber beyond. It was a suspicion that faded, however, when Artemus held out his hand to a large, jacquard tapestry depicting the main street of a quaint little town.

         He reached out and touched it. His hand disappeared.

         “Please,” Artemus said simply, and he brought his hand back from within the illusionary stone. “It’s time for your questions to be answered.” With a single step forward, he vanished through the wall, but his voice could still be heard. “And this time, dear Outriders, that is a promise I intend to keep.”

          Cedwyn glanced around at his friends.

         “Yeah, right,” he said. “I give it ten minutes before he’s mysteriously called away again.” Then he smirked and was the first to follow. Relic was next, disappearing past the tapestry without so much as a word or a glance to the others.

          Jace was still, smiling a little when Isabelle looked at him. Again, she reached up to the necklace around her neck, thinking of mentioning what happened before realizing they lacked the time; so she simply smiled back and took his hands in hers, facing him and taking a slow step back through the wall. Together, they disappeared.

          At first, everything fell to darkness, although the sensation was like walking through an open space. Then, as quickly as things had been snuffed out, the light returned, and they were standing in another place.

          Until this point, the theme of Lornda Manor could have been described as immense. It was a place of one grand, gigantic chamber after the next. So not a one of the Outriders would have guessed that beyond the secret wall lay nothing more than a small, circular niche. There were no decorations, no aesthetically pleasing trinkets gathered from around the world. The light was from common torches, not some unseen, magical source. The floor was stone, simple and smooth; the walls were the same. In the center of the room was a sturdy wooden table set with a steaming kettle around which several tin cups were placed. Behind it stood seven unremarkable chairs.

         “Please be seated,” Artemus said, gesturing to the table. “This will only take a moment.” Then, curiously, he slipped a sapphire from his pocket.

         “We’re ready here,” he said into it.

         Jace and Relic exchanged a glance that did not express confidence in the man’s sanity. Their doubts were replaced by an entirely different kind of concern, however, when the sapphire answered back.

         “Understood,” came a voice from the stone, now glimmering blue.

         “Charles,” Artemus went on. “If you would, before raising Praetor Duchyene, I wonder if you might raise the others. A brief explanation of what we are about to see is in order.”

         “All of them, sir?”

         Artemus smiled at the Outriders now facing him from behind the table. He had expected the baffled expressions he found there, but they amused him nonetheless.

         “Please.”

         “As you wish.”

         The cobalt sparkle within the precious stone faded away then, and while Artemus still held it in his hand, he was addressing the Outriders now.

         “I must apologize for this brief delay, but were I in your shoes, as I once was, I would expect an explanation.”

         “Yeah, explanations are good,” Jace said. “And maybe you can use one to tell us how you just spoke with a sapphire.”

         Before Artemus could even respond, all four torches in the room flickered around them, and the one mounted to their right, changed suddenly from the color of flame to a deep, unnatural crimson. The wall they had come in through, solid once more, held a torch that shifted to a bright emerald green. On the Outriders’ left, the fire blazed violet.

         No one spoke, and even if they could find words in that moment, it was unlikely they would have. Jace was still staring straight ahead, at the torch that had not altered its light in any way, when Artemus began speaking again.

         “You are sitting in what is called a Ciridian Communion Vault,” he began, stepping to the front of the room, his shadow cast by the only unchanged torch. “Congratulations are in order. For you are the first individuals, other than the wizardess Jaden or myself, to do so in a near millennium.”

         “Yay,” Isabelle whispered, spellbound, and her wide eyes glittered the reflection of purple flame.

         “There was a time,” he held up a finger for emphasis. “A very special time, when this chamber was a hub of activity; a means of communication between all the nations on of this continent. A time of unity long gone, regulated right here by Jaden. The sapphire you were wondering about?” He tossed it across the chamber to Jace, who, even in his slightly inebriated state, caught it with ease. “It channels the same energies that made instant correspondence possible.”

         “Like a portable Ciridian Communion Vault,” Relic said.

         Jace was leaning back in his chair, examining the sapphire.

         “What's a Ciridian?” he asked, looking up.

         Artemus crossed his arms.

         “Ciridian is the name of this continent,” his tone matter-of-factly despite the shocking gravity of his words. “And just one of the infinite truths shattered by the age of division we live in now.”

         Cedwyn looked down at the table.

         Relic shifted in his seat, not nearly as intimidated.

         “All of the nations were connected this way? That’s extraordinary.” He paused then, as he always did when initiating an internal debate. “But …” and he took a second to better articulate the thought. “What ended that? Was this mansion built solely for that purpose? You said this communication was regulated here, which suggests this wizardess was like a governor of a sort, and this continent was an outpost or …”

         Artemus held up his hands then, patting the air in front of him.

         “Relic, you have a mind not unlike my own, and more often than not, I would go on talking to you until the sun came up. It would be my pleasure, too. But tonight, time is of the essence, and so, further details must wait.”

         “But if you could just –”

         “Please,” Artemus insisted, an empathetic smile on his lips. “Tomorrow we will sit and talk. For now, I must move on.” Relic melted back into his chair, his shoulders sagging slightly.

Jace was still turning the sapphire over in his hand.

         “Ciridian, huh?” Looking at it a little bit longer, he tossed it back to Artemus.

         “Yes,” he said, catching it.

         “And we’re just supposed to take your word for that?”

          Artemus shrugged.

         “Well, I suppose that’s up to you,” he said. “And regardless, the forgotten name of this continent is but a secondary concern.”

         Cedwyn finally looked up.

         “Then what’s the primary one?”

         Artemus’ response was not given in words, but action, as he drifted around the room. “Mazhira,” he said, touching the spot where the wall curved around beside the crimson torch on their right. When his hand touched the stone, the torch grew brighter before a single spark flew from it, hitting the wall and, for an instant, covering it with bright red light. When it faded, the whole of the curve was as a rectangular portal that displayed a room identical to the one they were sitting in.

         Artemus continued around the room, reaching the wall behind the table. “Sindell,” he said, touching the stone. The effect was the same. The wall went all ablaze with green fire, faded, and another room was displayed.

         “What is that?” Isabelle asked, leaning forward, closer to the manifestation of the room that had just appeared at their back. One of the walls was broken and rent in a jagged opening, letting in the night.

         “The communion chambers throughout this land are nothing but ruins now,” Artemus casually explained. “The one in Sindell is in the worst shape of all. What you’re seeing is the exterior walls breaking down, and the night streaming in beyond.”

         Isabelle was still fixated on it, her body language hardly registering that Artemus had been speaking at all.

         “No,” she said, rising to her feet. “There are shadows. In the sky there, see?”

          Cedwyn noticed it as well.

         “Hmmm,” he mused, twisting in his chair and squinting. “Well it’s a nation of airships, right? Maybe that’s what it is.”

         Isabelle said nothing further, only hunched over so that her face was only a foot or two from the display.

         Jace reached over, placing his hand on her back.

         “Iz?”

          She didn’t react.

         “Isabelle,” he said again, and she moved absently further so that his hand slipped off of her.

         “No, they’re not airships. Airships give off light, don’t they?”

         She turned back to Jace who just shrugged. 

         “I don’t know,” he admitted.

          Isabelle sighed, resigned to the fact that her curiosity would go unsatisfied.

          At her back, the shadow she had seen in the distance was growing steadily larger, approaching at a ferocious rate of speed. In an instant it was just outside the debris of the wall, and Isabelle turned in time to see the horrible head of a demon crash through the stonework, its jowls opened wide and snapping while two forked tongues lashed the air between jaws full of dagger-like fangs.

          Isabelle screamed, standing with a start before tripping backward and stumbling.

          Jace had noticed the demon before Isabelle, and he prepared himself just in time to catch her. Cedwyn was on his feet as well, drawing his crossbows in a single, fluid action. He fired two shots at the wall, and had swiped both crossbows over his ammunition belts, taking aim again just as his first shots clattered to the floor.

         “Demogorgon,” Artemus said, his voice hauntingly calm as he stood near the purple torch on their left. “Or, Winged Creatures, if you prefer.”

          Isabelle was shaken, letting out an unsteady breath as she looked up at Jace. After another moment, she let out a tension-relieving giggle. Jace helped her to her feet just as the thing let out a horrible screech, and all four Outriders brought their hands to cover their ears.

         “Any chance you could turn it off?” Cedwyn yelled angrily.

          The demon’s screech ended as it continued scrambling to get into the structure. Bits of masonry ran down the walls and between the creature’s claws as it scraped furiously, but it did not seem intelligent enough to concentrate on any one spot.

         “Just touch it,” Artemus said.

         “What?” Cedwyn screamed again, shifting his attention quickly between Artemus and the demon.

         “Touch the wall,” Artemus specified.

          And at that moment Relic stepped forward and did so. Immediately, the green hue of the torch reverted back to normal and the wall was once again just that.

          Relic bent over and picked up the two crossbow bolts.

         “Why didn’t these pass through the wall?” he asked, looking at Artemus as he handed them over to Cedwyn. “We walked right through it. It’s just an illusion.”

          Artemus smiled.

         “Actually, it’s a good deal more complicated than that,” he said, apparently amused by the question. Artemus touched the wall he was next to now, and after a flash of purple fire, yet another one of the rooms was displayed. “Ebilen.”

          Relic moved back to his chair and sat.

         “How are all the torches still lit?” he asked.

          Artemus tilted his head.

         “I’m sorry?”

         “You said all of these communion vaults have been unused for a millennium.” Artemus smiled, understanding. “If that’s true, then how are all the torches still lit?”

         “Seriously, Relic?” Cedwyn abruptly interrupted before Artemus could respond. “This is what you’re interested in? Torches and hocus-pocus walls?” He turned to Artemus. “I think we’ve had enough of these pyrotechnics.”

         “Indeed.” Now Artemus moved to the front of the room, and he brushed his thumb over the sapphire still in his hand. “I think we’re ready for our meeting now.”

          This time, Charles’ voice did not respond. The fire of the torch changed to blue, and Artemus immediately touched the wall, allowing for no more dramatic hesitation; the wall was doused in the flame just as the others had been.

          Behind the table, the fact that Jace still had his arms around Isabelle’s waist had gone unnoticed. They were talking too quietly to each other for anyone else to hear. Whatever Jace had just uttered, however, caused her to smile.

         “Your breath smells like wine and cigarettes,” she whispered.

          Jace smiled, but yelped in surprise when Cedwyn elbowed him hard in the hip.

         “Hey!”

          Cedwyn did not even make eye contact with Jace. He simply pointed straight ahead. Jace and Isabelle followed the gesture, and both straightened immediately. The room that had appeared was bland, but the scene inside it was not. Maybe if it had just been Aleister Duchyene staring at them from behind a desk, their reaction would have been different. But the praetor was not alone; he sat surrounded by a storm of busy officers and statesmen. Chatter filled the chamber, and Aleister looked up over the parchment in his hands.

         Isabelle tugged the bottom of her still-wet blouse, straightening it as best she could.

         “Hey, Alley Cat,” she said, clearing her throat.

         Cedwyn looked down and massaged the bridge of his nose.

         Aleister let the parchment fall from his hands.

         “Isabelle,” he acknowledged.

         “I have to say, Praetor Duchyene,” Jace said, relaxing into his chair after retaking his seat next to Isabelle. “I’m a little insulted. I mean, here we are, on the very edge of the Republic, talking to you through a magical wall, and we’re not even important enough to warrant an audience with the First Consul?”

          The Praetor too now relaxed in his similar chair.

         “Well, those three are,” Aleister said in a serious tone, nodding to the other Outriders. “You, on the other hand, he has no time for.”

         “Huh,” Jace said. “I’ll have to run for office, then. Take your job, maybe.”

         Aleister shrugged.

         “Running is overrated,” he said, showing the first signs of amusement. “Nepotism. That’s the real way to go.”

          Jace reached for the kettle.

         “Good,” he said, taking a tin cup and pouring himself some tea. “Then I wanna be a senator when we get back. This whole Outrider thing’s for the birds.”

          Aleister laughed.

         “Well,” Artemus spoke up. He had not moved from the front of the room, directly next to where Aleister was on the wall. “I see the last three decades have seen little change to Veil’driel’s political system.”

          Aleister looked over and down to Artemus, but appeared to pay no mind to his sarcastic smugness.

         “How are you all doing?”

         “Fine,” Cedwyn said, bringing his elbows up and resting them on the table. “We’ll be even better when you tell us what’s going on.”

         “We were under the foolish impression that the Outrider Point Team was on the cusp of military intelligence,” Relic chimed in. “Apparently it’s the opposite.”

          Aleister smiled.

         “What’s the matter, Rel? No appreciation for ironic twists?”

         “For annoying ones.”

         “Ah.” Aleister stood from his chair, walking out of frame for a second before returning with a cup of his own. “I can see why you might feel that way,” he said. “But trust me, you’ve fulfilled your mission in exemplary fashion, as we knew you would.”

         “Yeah?” Jace asked. “Did we transcend the era in which we live?”

          Aleister sighed as he sat down again, the sound of a man working 20-hour days. Still, he was clearly amused.

         “Ha,” he said, taking a sip of whatever it was in his cup. “Oh yeah. That was a good one.” Then he placed it back down on his desk and sat back. “Ask your questions, and we’ll get you up to speed. It should be obvious now how our legendary friend here knew you were coming. But I’ll go out on a limb and guess that wasn’t the extent of your curiosity.”

         “Good guess,” Isabelle started. “Because it’s obvious that you two have been talking through this,” she hesitated, trying to find the words. “Place. But then how does Artemus have a copy of Senator Bren’s herald?”

         “Or a copy of your latest book,” Cedwyn added.

         “Well that’s a question even we would like an answer to,” Aleister said, crossing his arms. “After Jaden arrived here, not long after the four of you departed, the first thing she did was request an engineering team to locate and excavate all this,” he casually motioned all around. “Naturally, we were more than a little skeptical. All the way up until the point it actually turned out to be there. And, well,” he gestured to them with an upward nod. “This is hard to argue with.”

          Jace’s eyes widened slightly.

         “Me?” he asked, pointing to his chest.

          Isabelle rolled her eyes.

         “The wall,” she pointed out, and then squeezed his leg under the table in a not-so-subtle attempt to remind him he’d been drinking.

         “The second major development,” Aleister continued, without paying any attention to Jace. “Was when she informed the High Consul, along with First Consul Leverette, of her ability to send things back to her manor; over distances that would normally take months. Instantly. That she had an agent who could meet her and take care of the arrangements. From that point forward, whatever we gave her has ended up in the hands of Mr. Ward here.” He glanced down to Artemus again. “All attempts to discover further details have been fruitless.”

          Aleister’s tone bordered on accusation, but Artemus responded casually.

         “With good reason. The method is as dangerous as it is amazing. To share how it’s done would invite temptation to the uninitiated; and through it, disaster on a scale none can imagine.”

         “And yet hasn’t kept you from using it to gather items from all over the world,” Relic said. “You have flowers growing here that are indigenous to the furthest reaches of this continent. Food, suits of armor …”

         “Wine,” Cedwyn added, and he exchanged a meaningful glance with Jace.

          Artemus sighed.

         “I’ve had thirty long years to learn about the craft. And much of what you’ve seen here, artifacts and such, are not my own doing but Jaden’s; over the course of … hell, I don’t even know. A very, very long time. She is not bound by the politics of this world. She transcends its petty laws and differences. Much of what you have seen came to her as gifts; the fruits of sacred relationships of which we need not ask.”

         “So, you can’t even tell us how it works?” Aleister asked.

          He was leaning forward, eyes keen with intensity, although he sounded defeated even as he spoke; this argument had gone on to exhaustion long before now. “We arecapable of restraint. Just because we have access doesn’t mean we’ll use it.”

         “Perhaps,” Artemus said. “For a time, at least. But sooner or later the right set of circumstances will erode noble convictions to nothing. A leak from an aide, corruption, curiosity. Every person who passes through what you seek leaves their mark. Imprints of their consciousness forever. To pollute such power.”

         “Is to invite disaster on a scale none can imagine,” Jace said. “So we’ve heard.”

          Artemus pointed at him.

          Aleister frowned.

          There was an awkward silence then, before Isabelle finally spoke.

         “Well, maybe it’s a good thing,” she said in an attempt to break the tension. “Being able to travel like that would put us all out of a job.”

          Aleister smiled.

         “Ah, no,” he said. “Never that.” He picked up his cup with both hands, settling back and holding it on his lap. “Artemus, you wanna move us forward?”

          He nodded.

         “The forces that attacked Fairlawn City, and are attacking the Kingdom of Sindell as we speak, are doing so at the bidding of one man. A man named Arkhelan, whom you would call …” Artemus paused, as if the word he was about to speak made him want to cringe. “A wizard.”

         “We’d call him?” Isabelle asked.

          Artemus answered immediately, having expected the question.

         “Yes. Wizard is a silly term, really. A way for the ignorant masses to dumb down reality.”

         “Really?” Jace said, taking some offense. “That’s funny. Considering the first time I ever heard the term was when I was researching –”

          Relic cleared his throat, briefly drawing Jace’s attention.

         “Relic was researching the classified records of your point team’s mission to Bryce Valley thirty years ago. As a matter of fact, you were the first to use it.”

         “Indeed,” Artemus admitted. “As I said, it’s a term used by the ignorant; a way to explain what they can’t understand. As you have noted, that was thirty years ago.”

          Relic was so excited he could barely sit still. That original point team mission to Bryce Valley was the single greatest unexplored mystery of his generation. Even the records they had been permitted to view while Jace was recovering in Fairlawn were heavily censored. The only Outrider’s record book they had was Thean’s, but its contents indicated he had not witnessed the event. The highest authorities, in the Outrider Order and beyond, had guarded the secrets of it with their lives for three decades.

          But certain elements were known for sure. By the time it was over, Artemus Ward was banished into self-imposed exile. It drove Gabriel Foy into ignominy and obscurity; he was never heard from again. It cost Ailmar Duchyene his life; eight months before his son, Aleister, was born.

          Only their leader, Constable Fenlow Thean, had emerged unscathed; and if his record book from the time was any indication, it was because he had little to do with the events the others had witnessed.

          This was Relic’s chance, and it was a big one; an opportunity to learn what no other historian had ever known. To discover the details of what had truly happened from the mouth of a man who was there and saw everything. The man to whom Jace Dabriel was compared on every Veil’driel street corner, at every pub, and in every home.

         “And speaking of Bryce Valley,” Aleister began.

          Relic didn’t know where to begin. What would be his first question?

         “You need to know how Jaden made it to Sindell in the first place.”

          Relic’s shoulders sagged immediately; it was like being punched in the gut.

         “Oh, no,” he tried to protest. “We’re already familiar with that. Right, guys?” he said, desperate for support from the others. When none came, he looked back to the wall and Aleister. “We read the article in Bren’s herald. Malcolm Hawkins was able to –”

         “You read the propaganda version,” Aleister corrected. “On the details of Mr. Hawkins’ actions, it wasn’t far off. What was omitted, however, was the classified information revealing more about our enemy.”

         “Sir,” Relic persisted. “You cannot possibly stop there. Bryce Valley is a –”

         “I most certainly can stop there, Avery,” the Praetor interrupted, “and for the love of everything holy, don’t call me sir.”

         Relic sighed and sank deeper into his chair, resigned, as Aleister went on.

         “And I know what you want to talk about, but as far as Bryce Valley is concerned, what happened there two months ago, not thirty years, is the pressing issue at hand.”

         Artemus smiled at Relic.

         “The Republic of Veil’driel has been ignoring the events you wish recounted for decades now, son,” he said. “I wouldn’t hold my breath to learn anything soon.”

         Aleister’s reaction was subtle. In fact, it went totally unnoticed by everyone but Jace, who knew the man well enough to know when he was annoyed.

         “We’ll talk when you return, Relic. You have my word,” he said. “But not tonight. This communication is not to be taken for granted. While we have benefited from it, we’ve had suspicions, at times, that others were listening in.” He looked to Artemus. “Isn’t that a possibility?”

         Artemus glanced up at Aleister, and then back to the Outriders.

         “Unlikely,” he said, and it seemed to Cedwyn that he let the pause draw out to intentionally ratchet up the tension. “But possible,” he conceded at last.

         “And in light of that,” Aleister went on. “We should keep this conversation as short as possible.”

         At this, some of the tension eased from Relic, and he nodded; reaching for a tin cup as Jace slid the kettle to him.

         “Then let’s get to it,” Cedwyn said, his palm pressed to his forehead so that he could massage his temples with one hand. “This is starting to give me a headache. I mean, what are we talking about here?” He dropped his hand and looked up at the wall, to the visage of Aleister again. “Is it what our boy, the sharpshooter, did in Bryce Valley? Or this wizard, Arkhelan?” There was a brief pause. “Sorry,” he added sarcastically, before anyone else could speak. He held his hands up on either side of his face, shaking them to emphasize his annoyance. “Phrase only the ignorant use Arkhelan.”

         Aleister, still leaned back in his chair, held the cup completely vertical as he finished off its contents.

         “The two are linked,” Aleister said, not even acknowledging Cedwyn’s attitude. Most likely, he appreciated their frustration. Even expected it. “Not long after you departed Fairlawn City, everything changed; and your mission to report on the enemy forces occupying our outer provinces … took an unexpected turn.”

         “Define … unexpected turn,” Isabelle said.

         Artemus jumped in.

         “The siege of Fairlawn City was the only thing keeping Jaden from making contact with Veil’driel, but after you two,” he nodded to Jace and Relic, “ended that in the greatest feat of bravery ... and stupidity I have ever heard of, we had a window of opportunity for the briefest of moments.”

         Jace and Relic exchanged a meaningful glance.

          Artemus walked over to the table and picked up one of the chairs not in use, dragging it near the wall from which Aleister was speaking so that he was still facing the Outriders.

         “So we took it.”

         Aleister had gotten up again, moved out of frame, and was just now returning, his beverage refilled.

         “I told you that the first thing Jaden did was show us how to find and use Veil’driel’s Communion Vault,” he said, staying standing for a bit. “The second was to suggest we change our tactics, reporting that she had encountered no enemy army on her journey to us. Which meant having a point team scouring the countryside was no longer necessary.

         “You mean like an Outrider … pointless team?” Jace asked, appearing quite pleased with himself. He felt Isabelle’s hand over his thigh again and flinched, but this time, she let him off with a warning.

         “Yes. Very clever,” Aleister said. Sitting again, he was careful not to disturb a tall stack of papers as he placed his cup down beside it. “And so, unbeknownst to you, your primary mission was altered.”

         Cedwyn’s headache was getting worse as he spoke.

         “So … you let us believe we were scouting to the edge of Veil’driel, to report on the enemy’s army … even though you knew there wasn’t one?”

         “Basically, yes,” Aleister said bluntly.

         After a second or two, Cedwyn asked the obvious.

         “Why?”

         “We’ll get to that,” Aleister assured him. “Right now, I want to talk about Sindell’s call for aid. You remember? The one from about a year ago?”

         “Yeah,” Jace said. “The one we chose not to respond to.”

         “Couldn’t respond to,” Isabelle corrected, elbowing him. “It wasn’t long after that that the comet attacks began on Fairlawn.”

         Aleister nodded.

         “Right,” he said. “Well, we learned that the enemy at our doorstep was not the only deterrent from rendering that aid. The Sky Gate, the massive door that controls access through Bryce Valley into the –”

         “We know what it is,” Relic interrupted.

         Aleister was taking another sip of his drink, pausing just long enough to respond.

         “Good for you,” he said, looking at Relic over the rim. “Well, someone closed it.”

         “And why would they do that?” Isabelle asked.

         “We think it’s because Arkhelan was growing suspicious of Jaden,” Artemus broke in. “She’s his Luminate here on Ciridian …” he nodded, expecting their perplexed expressions. “It’s like a general,” he specified. “Only instead of having command, her role was that of a supervisor, an envoy between Arkhelan and his forces here.”

         “That’s amazing,” Cedwyn said suddenly, drawing all eyes to him. “I actually understood that.”

         Artemus smiled.

         “Anyway, one of her duties was to conduct weekly meetings with him.”

         “Arkhelan?” Relic asked.

         Artemus nodded, slouching a little.

         “So you’re saying this chamber can be used to communicate all over the world?”

         “I am,” he replied. “But in the time it took for her to journey to Veil’driel, there was a significant lapse in that communication. An unavoidable risk from the beginning, but one we decided it was one worth taking.”

         Aleister nodded.

         “She continued meeting with Arkhelan after reaching us. From right where I’m sitting,” he said. “The plan was to make him believe that this communication chamber was,” he pointed to them. “That one. That she was still at Lornda Manor.”

         “But we think that initial lapse, despite her well-devised excuses, drew enough suspicion for Arkhelan to alert two of his agents to watch the valley,” Artemus explained. “She transcribed every detail of those meetings from memory, and about two months ago, based on intelligence missions by the Outrider Order and the information Jaden got straight from Arkhelan’s mouth, it was determined that conditions were as good as they would ever be to pass through Bryce Valley.”

         “But things didn’t go as planned,” Jace said knowingly.

         “No.” Aleister shook his head. “They did not. They went the extreme opposite, actually. It was a trap, sprung the moment Bowman Hawkins completed his mission to open the Sky Gate. Two wizards were waiting for them, joined by a pair of minotaurs and a sky fire unit. That’s what they call those circular formations of wizards who launch the comet attacks.”

         “But didn’t you say she was in charge of all of the wizards on this continent?” Jace asked. “Why couldn’t she just order them out of her way?”

         Aleister glanced over to Artemus, and the Outriders’ eyes followed in unison.

         “It’s as I said,” Artemus began, “she is not their commander, and passage across national borders on Ciridian is strictly monitored. Needless to say, they would have known she wasn’t supposed to be there, and worse, that she was attempting to cross without permission or purpose.”

         “So Arkhelan thinks Jaden might be about to betray him and offer aid to Sindell,” Cedwyn said, sorting it all out in his head. “And all he sends to Bryce Valley is two wizards, a couple minotaurs, and a Sky … whatever whatever?””

         The legendary Outrider leaned forward, taking his cue.

         “It’s curiously poor tactics by a man who just doesn’t do that,” Artemus explained. “He would have sent his agents to spy on the Valley, nothing more. If Jaden passed through, he would have his confirmation that she betrayed him. But it appears they decided to attack instead.”

         “Without orders?” Isabelle asked.

         Artemus nodded.

         “To confront Jaden in the Valley wouldn’t make sense. Too many unpredictable variables, and even if an engagement were successful, it may be at the cost of getting the information to Arkhelan.” He was staring at Jace now. “It’s like what you did that night in Fairlawn,” he said. “Only it worked and you became a hero.”

         Instead of taking offense, Jace nodded.

         “You’re saying these wizards tried to subdue her without authorization.”

         “Yes,” Artemus said, leaning back again. “That’s the theory.”

         “So that they could take credit for killing her?” Relic asked.

         Artemus shrugged.

         “Among other things, I suppose. No doubt, stopping the mission to Sindell was another. It’s a little more complicated, but that’s the gist of it.”

         Relic perked up.

         “More complicated,” he said, like he understood something the others could not. “They were interested in Bryce Valley itself as well. Weren’t they?”

         “Relic,” Aleister admonished him.

         Jace wondered if there might be something special about the tea he was drinking, with the effects of the Orinel Lin subsiding a bit.

         “You seem pretty sure of their motives,” he said.

         “Yes. I am. Based on who the assailants were, I’m almost certain.”

         Isabelle brought her elbows up to the table.

         “Who the wizards were?”

         Artemus nodded.

         “Valith, a pretentious fool, and his idiot brother Orinus. Stereotypical villains, the both of them.”

         “You knew them?” Isabelle asked, her eyes widening a little.

         “They’ve been guests here. Many times. Egocentric thugs with delusions of omnipotence, neither with any real understanding of the powers they wield.” He stopped, as if just then remembering. “Wielded. For those two, wizard is an apt description. Glorified magicians.”

         “And yet they were here,” Cedwyn said as if he were pointing something out. “Delivering reports to Jaden.”

         “In the capacity of her position here, which I’ve already explained,” Artemus shot back. It was the first signs of wavering composure any of them had witnessed since their arrival. Anger from his thoughts of the wizards who had attacked Jaden.

         “And she handed the transcripts of those meetings into the hands of General Creed upon her arrival; I daresay endearing herself to him forever.” Aleister smiled, recalling for just a second the hours the general spent singing her praises. “The results of which have saved no small number of lives,” he added.

         “I thought all the minotaurs fled,” Relic said as he glanced around to the others. “Scouts were reporting that as far back as when Jace was recovering in Fairlawn City.”

         “Yes,” Artemus said, appearing calm once more. “The minotaurs’ … participation in this conflict was never voluntary. They are being used as slaves… or rather, they were.” After a few moments staring out into nothing, Artemus brought his line of sight to rest on the Outriders. “Their minds were being bound by a perversion of an ancient charm used by druids to train horses. But Fairlawn exposed the danger in doing so, leading Arkhelan to issue an edict barring the practice. As they found out, any break in the caster’s concentration lets the beasts revert to their wild nature.” He looked over to Jace. “Lucky for you, blowing up that cart of reagents was a good enough distraction. If not, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

         Relic snapped.

         “I told you something wasn’t right about those minotaurs,” he said. “Even at the time. How they were working together and all that?” He leaned further forward so he could look around Cedwyn to Jace. “Remember I said that?”

         “Yes,” Jace said, uninterested. “You’re very smart.”

         “That would be another indication that Valith and Orinus were working alone, then,” Cedwyn realized. “If they were using minotaurs.”

         “So I guess that’s where Malcolm came in,” Isabelle said.

         Aleister had taken to writing something during Artemus’ explanations. Now he looked up again.

         “Yes, that’s right.”

         “What was the name of guy we lost?” Jace asked, remembering the report of the casualty in the herald. “Senator Bren has a habit of forgetting to include them,” he finished with some annoyance.

         Aleister knew the question was coming. He knew Jace all too well.

         “A kid named Shane Bevan,” he said.

         There was a pause then, as the name hung in the air like a moment of silence. In the middle of the quiet, Cedwyn leaned over and whispered to Jace.

         “You know him?” he asked with a tone conveying he himself did not.

         Jace had his elbow on the table, resting his chin on a balled fist; his response, a slight shake of the head.

         “Those boys,” Aleister said. “And girls,” he added with a slight smile to Isabelle. “Have done, and continue to do, amazing things.”

         “And their sacrifice has not been in vain,” Artemus was quick to add. “It’s true, there may be no enemy army in Veil’driel, but the agents working for Arkhelan, left unchecked, would be absolutely devastating to this nation. They are responsible for the destruction, and subsequent occupation of the theocracy of Mazhira. They have completed the near annihilation of Sindell, and while I have received no word from Ebilen, I have little hope. If not for the sharpshooters striking from the shadows, these agents could unite; organize further attacks. Summon demons of abysmal horror the likes of which you cannot even begin to imagine.”

         “No,” Isabelle said, recalling the terrifying flying creature they had seen on the wall from Sindell. “I’m pretty sure I can imagine them.”

         Jace smiled.

         “They call them Whistlers,” Aleister went on. “And the actions of Malcolm Hawkins that day in Bryce Valley have given them a leader.” He finished the contents of his cup for a second time, then placed it down empty. “With the combined efforts of he, Outrider Darvin Nash and Outrider Ferris Lang, the wizards were neutralized, their minotaurs with them. That is how the convoy arrived safely in Sindell.”

         “Malcolm Hawkins,” Relic mused, looking over to Jace again. “It’s funny, isn’t it? If you hadn’t decided to run the gauntlet that night, his exceptional skill might never have been discovered.”

         “He’s right,” Cedwyn said, leaning further against the table. “Pretty impressive, actually. Even when you’re looking like a jackass you’re making contributions to the cause.”

         Jace laughed, and leaning back, extended his arms to rest on the backs of Cedwyn and Isabelle’s chairs. Then he looked up to Aleister.

         “Why wasn’t any of this mentioned in our correspondence with General Creed or Constable Thean?” he asked. “You could have told us we were heading to a meeting with Artemus Ward. That he was waiting for us in this mansion, and that he was an ally.”

         “Honestly, because it wasn’t pertinent to your mission. At least not enough to risk the interception of a letter that might have conveyed Jaden’s plans.”

         “Or that I was still here at Lornda Manor,” Artemus added.

         “Besides,” Aleister said, his tone lightening. “From what I’ve heard, whether an enemy or ally was in that mansion, you would have approached it the same way.” Artemus looked up at the wall, exchanging an amused glance with Aleister as the Praetor continued. “Across a wide open plain in broad daylight, huh?” he said with a chuckle. “I’ll do you a favor and not pass that bit of information on to the Constable.”

         Jace shot a look over to Cedwyn with an immediate frown.

         Artemus Ward and Aleister Duchyene both laughed at his consternation.

         “You could have written it in the Outrider code,” Cedwyn spoke up to get back to the point, and perhaps also in part to deflect the embarrassing tactical decision that had been his idea.  “The enemy can’t decode that.”

         “No, actually, they can,” Artemus said, his face straightening. And immediately, all attention went to him. “Every agent of Arkhelan, every,” he paused, as if saying the word physically pained him, “wizard can read the Outrider Code.”

         “How in the hell is that possible?” Cedwyn asked angrily.

         Artemus just shrugged.

         “In addition,” Aleister said. “We knew where you were ultimately headed.”

         Artemus motioned around the room as the praetor continued.

         “The risk of compromising intelligence seemed foolish when we would soon be speaking like this. Kind of renders the post rider system obsolete.”

         “I’m starting to think we’re two steps from being obsolete,” Cedwyn muttered under his breath. Jace smiled, holding up one finger and mouthing the correction: One step.

         Although concealing the action well, Jace had raised his hand from Isabelle’s chair and was tickling the back of her neck, making it more than a little difficult for her to concentrate. He didn’t appear to be doing it consciously, however, and Isabelle made no attempt to stop him.

         “Still,” he said. “If you had the ability to communicate to the coast like this, and you trust Jaden, then why are we out here? What annoys me most is the risk of life. Ours, and even moreso, the post riders’.”

         “Right,” Cedwyn agreed. “If Artemus is the leader of her scouts, why didn’t you just talk to him through this,” he twirled his hand in front of him, “wall? His people could have done everything we just did.”

         “Or at least met us half way between Fairlawn and here,” Isabelle pointed out.

         “Wow,” Aleister said as he signed another parchment. “That might be the record for most people trying to make the same exact point.”

         Isabelle sighed. Her attention having returned to Jace's fingertips and the fight against closing her eyes.

         “The short answer is that the Republic of Veil’driel doesn’t trust me,” Artemus said, looking at the Outriders. “Despite Jaden vouching for me, its leaders cannot take my word on what I report to them. So you four are their insurance that things are as I say.”

         “Right,” Aleister said, and he was looking down to Artemus. “You understand that it was nothing personal, but considering what is at stake...”

         “Not at all. You would be foolish to do otherwise,” Artemus said. “Especially when I had been telling Jaden the outer provinces were occupied by enemy forces, only to have her find that information incorrect in route to you.”

         The Outriders looked to Artemus.

         “It’s true,” he went on. “Until recent months, my scouts and I had noted large enemy hosts throughout the wilderness, and most of the abandoned towns were occupied as well. Obviously, that intelligence seems more than a little suspicious now.”

         “But why is it suspicious?” Relic asked. “What would be your motive for lying?” He looked up to Aleister then back to Artemus. “Am I missing something? What would you gain from making Jaden believe Arkhelan had armies in Veil’driel?”

         “Well, nothing,” Artemus said. “But that isn’t the point. Hypothetically, my motives could be unknown. Truthfully, Jaden already suspected there was no army here, for as I told you, she would be the first to know if there was.” Artemus shrugged, an odd change of pace from the man who had been a limitless source of information, now appearing quite honestly confused. “I can’t explain it, I can only report what my scouts and I saw, and that was several large enemy forces.”

         There was a long pause then, and no one spoke as Artemus stared off into nothing, as if trying, somehow, to come up with an explanation.

         “Ah, well,” he said, snapping out of it and smiling at the Outriders. “The simple fact is, while I have given my word and that was good enough for Jaden, it wasn’t, nor should it have been, good enough for First Consul C. R. Leverette. There were two possibilities when Jaden saw no enemy army between here and Fairlawn: One, a massive force had seemingly vanished into thin air. Two, that there’d never been a massive force in the first place.” Artemus smiled, wide and genuine. “If you were the betting type, what odds would you play?

         “For what it’s worth,” Aleister said. “There were many on the High Council who spoke for you.”

         “Ah, as I said, there’s no need to soften the blow,” Artemus chuckled. “You have a sound tactical mind is all. Like your father before you.”

         Aleister nodded, smiling politely, but he was quick to move on.

         “And to answer your earlier question,” the praetor started, addressing the Outriders again. “The First Consul could not join us because he is at the front with our military forces at Fairlawn; giving a speech before they break camp. All pending your final confirmation.”

         Isabelle looked a little overwhelmed.

         “Confirmation?”

         “That there is no army in our lands to threaten Veil’driel. With your word, our forces will march to Bryce Valley and on to Sindell,” and he paused. “After tonight, a single infantry brigade, along with a solitary troop of sharpshooters, will be all that is left of our fighting force here in the homeland.”

         The gravity of those words swept over them.

         “So, you see,” Alesiter went on. “While it may be true that, unbeknownst to you, the nature of your mission had changed after you set out; its importance is second to none. In fact, it may be the most important ever.”

         “Well, you have it,” Cedwyn said, the only one of the Outriders who remained unfazed. “Our confirmation, that is. There is no army in our country.”

         Aleister nodded just as a pretty young girl walked up to lay a few parchments, and what appeared to be a map, on his desk. She purposely avoided looking at the wall, a little intimidated by the idea of staring into a room of four celebrities and a legend.

         The praetor did not plan on letting her off so easily.

         “This is Cleo Bright,” he said, and the girl turned to them after dropping the papers on the desk, her arms straight down at her sides. “Former Executive Assistant to General Creed, recently transferred to my staff with the legions moving out. She was with Malcolm at Bryce Valley, and earned a meritorious service medal for her efforts.”

         “Nice,” Jace said. “Congratulations.”

         “Thank you,” Cleo replied with a nervous smile, bouncing a little before looking away. Finally, she turned back to Aleister, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Sir, I really should check on those –”

         “Yes, of course,” the praetor said with a knowing smile. “Go. I’ve embarrassed you enough.”

         “Thank you, sir.” Before walking out of frame, she risked a glance back to the Outriders. “Bye,” she said, holding up a hand, and was gone; whatever menial task she was off to accomplish never looked so good.

         It was only by chance that Jace happened to make eye contact with Artemus Ward after smiling at the young page’s awkward exit, but when he did so, he found the legendary Outrider had been staring at him all the while. There was a moment then, more like a flash in time, really, when the hue of the man’s eyes shifted through every imaginable color. It reminded him, strangely, of the comet attacks that had ravaged Fairlawn City, similar to his other visions, but nowhere near as intense. This experience was subtle, oddly comforting even, and then Relic’s comment about the crossbow belts, which had seemed so insignificant at the time, fluttered profoundly into his thoughts; triggered something in him that led him to Aleister.

         “You know,” he started, folding his hands. The effects of the wine were completely gone, although the strangeness of that was far back in his mind. “It really isn’t unfeasible at all.” He had everyone’s attention now. “Artemus and his scouts reporting large enemy forces that turned out never to be there.”

         “We’re back on that again?” Cedwyn asked, pouring himself tea for the first time.

         “No, think about it,” Jace continued, glancing for only a second to Cedwyn before facing Aleister once more. “I know it might seem suspicious. Hell, even a little deceitful. But we’ve encountered phenomena out here beyond that.”

         Aleister was growing serious.

         “Oh?” he asked, sitting straighter in his chair. “What kind of phenomena?”

         “Illusions,” Jace answered. “Used to camouflage certain areas; make other things appear to be something they aren’t. Chief among them the border of Terrill Silva.”

         “So what are you saying?” Artemus asked, looking interested. “The armies my scouts and I saw occupying the Republic’s provinces were illusions?”

         “Is it really so hard to imagine?” Jace asked, a bit surprised by his own words. These thoughts came unbidden, automatically, and yet they made perfect sense to him. He was sure he was speaking the truth, and wanted nothing more to defend Artemus; he had a connection to the man. Indeed, he admired him.

         At some point, the noise had fallen away to where you could hear a pin drop; the background commotion on Aleister’s end had ceased, and while those around him could not be seen out of frame, it was obvious they had fallen silent to hang on Jace’s words.

         “Why would someone want to give the illusion of an army occupying our lands?” Aleister asked.

         “To keep Veil’driel bottled up,” Relic said, joining in. “Keep our forces where they are.”

         “And yet there wasn’t anything illusory about the army that attacked Fairlawn, Jace,” the praetor pointed out. “As I recall, it almost killed you.”

         “Yeah, I saw an army,” Jace admitted. “But only came in contact with those circles of wizards launching comets at Fairlawn.”

         “Which could have been a failsafe to the plan,” Cedwyn chimed in. “It’s what I would have done; to buy time on the slim chance that scouts, or in this case Outriders, actually got through the minotaurs in the Fairlawn Woods.”

         “And to make it seem as if, later, an army had been there, but retreated.”

         Jace was enthusiastic now, pleased by the support of the others.

         “I never came in contact with an army, but I reported one, didn’t I? We assumed they retreated because they were stunned by my actions, but something about that reasoning always seemed wrong to me. Especially in light of these wizards you’ve described. You said they’ve toppled other governments on this continent without an army. What if this is just another one of their tactics? They’ve proven they don’t need them to destroy nations.”

         “And you know,” Cedwyn started and then paused to think something out. Finally he nodded and held up a finger, a clear light of certitude in his eyes. “What if it’s our sharpshooters’ doing? What if they’ve taken out so many of these guys over the last few months that it’s become impossible to maintain these complex illusions?”

         “You’re saying Veil’driel has simply been lucky, then?” Aleister asked. He did not appear to be overtaken by the wave of enthusiasm that had swept over the Outriders.

         “Lucky?” Cedwyn asked. “No. I’m saying that Veil’driel just might be the first to have beaten them back. First with the actions of,” he held his hands up at his side to extend his thumbs and point at Jace and Relic simultaneously. “These two idiots. Then with the efforts of –”

         “The Whistlers,” Artemus blurted unexpectedly.

         Aleister glanced down to Artemus who did not look back at him. Instead, the icon kept his concentration on the Outriders who were defending him, appreciation on his face. This new generation of Outriders was defending one of their own, plain and simple. The sacred bonds of camaraderie were melting the decades away, and even if for only a moment, Artemus Ward was just another Outrider of Veil’driel.

         “And the Golden riders, then?” Aleister pushed.

         “Well, yeah. They were obviously real,” Jace acknowledged.

         There was an extended silence, as Aleister appeared to digest all this.

         “Look,” Jace went on, perceiving his cousin's racing mind. “I’m not saying we have all the answers, but I am saying that given everything we’ve been through over the last six months, my gut tells me that the famous Artemus Ward has been serving Veil’driel faithfully once again.”

         “And if it helps,” Relic broke in. “Constable Thean’s record book refers to the golden riders as the enemy’s elite. Sadly, that’s about all the detail he gives.”

         “Ah,” Artemus said, smiling. “So you do have Fenlow’s record book.”

         Cedwyn nodded, wondering why he had been so apprehensive about sharing that information earlier.

         “We do,” he said. “Sorry to have kept that from you, but we didn’t know if we could –”

         “No need to explain, son,” Artemus interrupted, and those words felt like they were becoming a theme with the man. “As I said on your arrival, you would have been foolish to trust me so quickly.” He stood up then, stretching his back. “Unfortunately, you’re right. Our point team did encounter the golden riders all those years ago, but I’m afraid my old friend Thean recorded all there was to write down.” He turned away from the Outriders to Aleister. “We knew they were scouts for the enemy. We even engaged them on several occasions. But after that Bryce Valley mission, they vanished; never to be heard from again,” and he was facing the Outriders again. “Until recently, of course.”

         “This is all very interesting,” Aleister said, rubbing his chin. “And it would appear that even as your mission had changed from information gathering, you managed to gather some regardless.”

         “You should run it by Jaden,” Isabelle said. “See what she thinks.”

         “Yeah,” Relic agreed. “And how are you communicating with her, anyway?” He motioned back over his shoulder at the wall behind him; where the Sindell Ciridian Communion Vault had been previously displayed. “It didn't look like their communication room was exactly … accessible.”

         “No. It isn’t,” Aleister said. “Theirs is located in the city of Cinowyn, which is mostly in ruins now. Jaden has no doubt told King Bryce where it’s located, but it’s impossible to get to. As Artemus mentioned, their land is under siege by a troop of wizards and the winged demons under their command.”

         “We've heard,” Jace said with a glance to Artemus. "Only their capital remains. Protected by a force field."

         “Yes,” Aleister nodded. "And to answer your question, until recently, we were communicating with Sindell through sapphires. Whatever energies make this possible, Jaden is able to strengthen the connection so we can communicate with her for short amounts of time. But the communication is often sporadic, unpredictable, even with her boosting the stones’ power. Then, earlier today, we lost that ability altogether.”

         “So …” Isabelle started, concerned. “You have no contact with Sindell at all?”

         Aleister shook his head.

         “That sounds like a pretty serious problem to me.”

         “It is,” the praetor admitted. “Which is the reason Artemus was called away from you earlier, so that he could be informed.”

         Artemus looked over to Relic.

         “And where Hazel was headed when you saw her,” he said. “We have a theory as to what the problem might be. You’ll have to pardon my earlier secrecy, but there are forces in this mansion that could be manipulated by those who know what they’re doing. Unwelcome surveillance is a very real possibility around here, and I would sooner die than put her life in jeopardy.”

         Relic shook his head and held up his hands, more than satisfied.

         “We know, however,” Aleister went on, “that Jaden is improving upon their technology. With her help, their airship production has doubled, complete with new and improved models and incredible strides in weaponry; rendering aid beyond measure to their nation, just as she had for many months with ours. The woman is truly a savior.”

         “I’d like to meet her,” Relic said.

         “Well, you might get the chance. With any luck, our forces will be able to defeat the Winged Creat –”

         At that moment, all of the torches flickered as if a strong gust had swept through the room, although none of them felt it, and then the urgency with which Artemus fumbled for his sapphire caused the Outriders to stand.

         “What was that, Artemus?” Aleister asked.

         He did not answer right away, just held up a hand, glancing around. Then his sapphire began to glow.

         “Charles?” he asked, but he looked around the room again and then to the ceiling, not moving so much as a muscle, as if he were standing on a sheet of thin ice.

         “No explanation, master,” the voice came through. “But there was definitely an interruption of some kind.”

         Artemus turned to Aleister.

         “Could just be the nasty weather moving in,” he said. “It’s been known to happen. But I don’t think we should take any chances. We should end the connection immediately.”

         Aleister agreed wholeheartedly.

         “Right,” he said, racing to speak his last words to the Outriders. “Get a good night’s rest, pack up, have a good breakfast, and meet Mr. Reese in the woods tomorrow morning. The post riders have all been ordered to return, but as Lucas is at the end of the line, he won’t receive word. You tell him the mission is over and he’ll return with you.”

         There was a flicker and the image of Aleister faded before returning.

         “And one more thing,” the praetor said, the sound of his voice distorted with the diminishing quality of his image. “Chapter ten of my latest book, Jace. I suggest you take a look. It’s devoted to your mission to Saddle Creek. The one you ran as a forerunner. Guarding that convoy of windmill parts, do you remember?”

         Jace nodded.

         “I do.”

         At that instant, the wall returned to normal, the torch’s flame restored to its natural hue, and Aleister’s visage was gone; the surreal conversation unceremoniously ended.

         “I don’t like it,” Artemus admitted.

         “We got what he wanted to tell us,” Jace said. “I think we can call it a night.”

         Relic reached down to his cup and took another sip of the tea that had been sitting in front of him.

         “This is amazing. Peach, is it?” After a sip, he chuckled. “From some far distant corner of the world, no doubt.

         Artemus smiled, though he appeared somewhat anxious.

         “An orchard near the stables,” he said, and then he extended his arms outward, addressing the rest of the Outriders. “Now I must leave you for the night, and rather abruptly. To have something like this happen, on the same day Veil’driel has lost contact with Sindell, is more than a little disconcerting.”

         “No, we completely understand,” Jace said.

         “We’ll speak tomorrow before you depart,” Artemus said, and he appeared on the verge of moving to the illusory wall before hesitating. “You know your way back?”

         “We do,” Isabelle said.

         “Hey, Artemus,” Jace called out abruptly.

         He had already taken his first steps away, and turned back.

         “I did it for the people suffering in Fairlawn City, and even then I didn’t really think it through.”

         Artemus nodded, giving the appearance that he was the only other person in the room that understood why Jace was saying this.

         “The truth is … I was scared to death.”

         Artemus walked back, slowly, until he was standing directly in front of Jace.

         “Fair enough, son,” he said, placing a single hand on his shoulder. “Consider me corrected.”

         Then he smirked, patted the side of Jace’s face, and left.

         When Relic finally broke the silence, it was for a simple observation.

         “I don’t remember you ever having a mission to Saddle Creek.”

         “That’s because I didn’t,” Jace said, still looking forward. Finally, he turned his head to the side. “Where’s that book?”

         “My room,” Cedwyn said.

         Jace nodded.

         “Gonna need to take a look at it,” he stated the obvious.

         “Yeah,” Cedwyn agreed, and he was the first to walk out through the wall.

***

         Jace stood in his room, arms crossed, staring out at the balcony and the torrents of sweeping rain that had chased away any idea of retrieving the Orinel Lin. It wasn’t a concern over getting drenched so much as knowing the bottle would be diluted and ruined by now, which would make said drenching pointless. Then the double doors rattled against the vicious gusts beyond; a final emphasis to accept his disappointment.

         “This bed is really soft,” Isabelle observed, lying in its center and leaning against the headboard.

         Jace turned, twisting his mouth a little when he saw her.

         “What?” she asked, defensive.

         “Nothing, you’re just gonna get it,” Jace raised his hand, motioning towards her before trailing off. “Your cloak is still wet.”

         “Your cloak is still wet,” she mimicked.

         From the corner, Relic laughed a little, drawing Jace’s attention.

         “So where were you on this whole Communion Vault thing, Rel?” he asked. “Isn’t that something you usually see coming?”

         “Ah. Well, believe it or not, Jace, there haven’t been many books on the subject,” he said. “Or on the primordial name of our continent for that matter.”

         Jace started over to where his pack sat open on the floor.

         “Whatever. Maybe you’re just not as smart as I thought.”

         “It is perfectly logical when you think about it, though,” Relic went on, ignoring the comment. “If these wizards, or shamans, or whatever Artemus wants to call them are as advanced as he suggests, they would naturally have a method of communication more advanced than our own.” He turned away from the painting he had been examining to face his friends. “And not just that. Imagine what else they would be capable of. Certainly they had a hand in Sindell’s airships, for example, and Artemus already told us Jaden played a part in their force field. Emeralds power their airships, did you know that? Utilizing precious stones the same this mansion does. You really think that’s coincidence? I might even go so far as to say-”

         “Alright, alright, we get it,” Jace said, raising a hand in the air while he rummaged through his pack. “I love how your mind works, Relic, seriously. What we just experienced makes me wanna sleep for a month. Yet why do I get the feeling it was barely an appetizer for you?”

         Relic turned back to the art.

         “Overreaction clouds the reality of a thing. Stands in the way of understanding.”

         Jace smiled, finding the jerky he was looking for.

         “Yeah, well, what would you say,” he stood up and came to Relic’s side. “If I told you getting overwhelmed from time to time is the sign of a healthy mind?”

         Relic turned to him slightly.

         “Don’t know. Point out that healthy minds and Outriders don’t go together?”

         Now Jace was taking in the painting for himself.

         “Fair enough,” he said, taking a bite of the dried out meat. “So what’s your fascination with this?”

         The artwork was most definitely old, but strangely, the only signs of wear were on the frame where the paint was chipping. The painting itself was vibrant; depicting the scene of a large, well-lit structure nestled against the woods off a well-kept sylvan road. Two quaint lanterns flanked a welcoming entrance at the end of a short walkway, over which a sign on silver hinges was branded with a crescent moon; stars dotting the i’s of the words Inn Twilight.

         “It seems familiar to me,” Relic said. “Like I’ve been there before.”

         “Looks like our boy Duchyene has taken a serious interest in those mountains out there,” Cedwyn said, storming in. He was holding Aleister’s book in one hand and stopped to close the door with the other. “Chapter ten,” he reminded as he hurled the book at Jace.

         “Yeah,” Jace said, catching it and opening it to the right page. At a glance, it appeared to be just the start of another chapter, the format matching the rest of the volume exactly. The text, however, was a note, cleverly hiding in plain sight. “Hm,” he mused at length. “Not just these here at the coast but the entire Bryce mountain range.” He looked up at Cedwyn. “How did he know Artemus wouldn’t read this?”

         “Guess he thought it was worth the risk,” Cedwyn said with a shrug. “And even if he did, would it really matter?”

         Jace turned the page.

         “What does it say?” Isabelle asked.

         He didn’t answer her at first, reading the rest of Aleister’s message before handing the book to Relic.

         “Apparently, despite tonight’s mystical meeting, Aleister still doesn’t trust Artemus as much as he let on,” he said, walking over to where Isabelle was lounging on his bed.

         “There was more to Malcolm’s mission than we were told,” Cedwyn added from his spot near the door.

         Isabelle watched Jace sit down at her feet.

         “Like what?”

         “Like he came into contact with Gabriel Foy,” Relic said as he read for himself.

         “Gabriel Foy?” Isabelle asked, astounded. A skeptical expression followed. “Shut up.”

         Relic could only sigh as he read the same sentence over and over.

         “This is insane,” he kept saying. The color had drained from his face, as the reemergence of a second member of the original Outrider point team, that of the lesser known, enigmatic Gabriel Foy, was apparently enough to void his aforementioned overreaction motto. “He saved Malcolm’s life. He saved his life in Bryce Valley. This is insane!”

         “What was he doing there?” Isabelle asked, preferring to hear about it rather than read for herself.

         “No one knows,” Cedwyn said. “But when Thean found out about it, he called a meeting with General Creed, Aleister, and First Consul Leverette. They think it has something to do with how Jaden and Artemus are able to travel great distances instantaneously.”

         “And so Alley Cat wants us to do … what exactly?”

         “Confirm that the Bryce Mountain range extends all the way here to the coast,” Jace said, leaning forward from the edge of the bed and resting his forearms on his knees. “To add credence to their theory.”

         “Which is what?”

         Jace shrugged.

         “Didn’t say. Has to do with the caverns within them, though.”

         “I’m beginning to think Constable Thean knows quite a bit more about this situation than he’s revealed to us,” Relic said, regaining his composure. “More than he even put in his record book.”

         “Well, regardless,” Cedwyn said, reaching down to grab the doorknob. “It looks like they want us to bring them a piece of this puzzle, but for once, we’re not being asked to solve it.” Smiling, he opened the door. “Is the countryside clear of an enemy army? Yes. Does the Bryce Mountain Range extend all the way to the coast? Yes. Done and done.”

         Jace had been staring into space, but now focused on Cedwyn.

         “You seem awfully chipper all of the sudden.”

         Cedwyn spread his arms.

         “Mission’s over,” he said. “We’re heading home tomorrow and I’m about to sleep a full night in a very soft bed. We have a powerful wizardess, not to mention a man I’ve admired since I was five, in our corner, and we’ve confirmed there’s no sizable enemy force in Veil’driel. I’ll admit, I may not be absolutely, one hundred percent certain about every aspect of all this… but we’ll learn even more upon our return, and we’re fighting back. We’ve won in Veil’driel. Now we’ll win in Sindell and beyond.”

         There was a pause before Isabelle broke the silence.

         “That’s …” her gaze shifted from Cedwyn to Jace. “A really good reason for being chipper, actually,” she said, laughing.

         “So anyway,” Cedwyn continued. “There’s something cooking in the kitchen again, which is where I’m off to.” He paused, noticing the jerky in Jace’s hand. “And you’re still eating that cardboard … why?”

         Jace shrugged.

         “Craving normalcy?”

         Cedwyn raised his eyebrows.

         “Riiiight,” he said, then turned, disappearing into the hallway and leaving the door wide open behind him.

         “Hm. And I’m gonna make one more stop in the library,” Relic said, looking up from Aleister’s book and closing it. “Steal as much material on the Bryce Mountain Range as I can fit in my pack. I’m sure there’s stuff here you can’t find anywhere else.” He was standing in the doorway now. “Might help in the hands of the right people back home.”

         “Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Jace said. “Just don’t spend all night down there. You’re gonna need your sleep.”

         “All night?” Relic was holding the book at his side now, tapping it against his thigh. “I’m thinking it’ll take an hour. Tops.”

         “Mmhm. An hour tops and libraries don’t get along in your world, Rel.”

         Relic laughed as he left, closing the door.

         There was a pleasant calm then, with all voices given way to a melody of rain against stone and glass.

         “So did I tell you about this idea I had?” Jace asked. He was still on the edge of the bed and twisted towards Isabelle.

         She tilted her head to the side.

         “Unt-uh”

         “Okay.” Jace tossed the jerky back into his pack. “Tell me what you think.”

         “Oh blah,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Thinking isn’t something I feel like doing any more of tonight.” She stood and started to the dresser, throwing her wet cloak over top of it.

         “You sure?” he asked. “It’s a good one.”

         Isabelle showed no reaction at all when the bed creaked, and she intentionally kept her back to him when she knew he was coming over.

         “Fine,” she said, feigning annoyance in spite of her fluttering stomach. “Go ahead.”

         He was right behind her now.

         “Okay, you ready?”

         She could feel his breath on the back of her neck, and while her posture remained unchanged, her eyes fell closed.

         “Mmhm.”

         “Alright. Don’t tell anyone.” His finger was on the small of her back, tracing a figure eight. “But I think we should blow off this whole save the world thing, sneak down to the stables, and ride away.”

         Isabelle gasped, turning around.

         “Oh.” Gently grabbing his arms at the elbow, she pressed against him. “That. Is. Brilliant,” she said, slipping off into a sarcastic daydream. “Think about how romantic that would be. Spending the days evading wizards and their forces of darkness. Spending the nights…” She leaned her head to the side, pausing and nodding a little. “Evading wizards and their forces of darkness.”

         “Actually,” Jace said, leaning his forehead down against hers. “You’re not supposed to call them wizards anymore.”

         “Mmmm,” she hummed. “Oh yeah. Makes me sound ignorant.”

         “Yep.”

         Isabelle tilted her chin up ever so slightly, brushing her lips against his as she spoke.

         “You know, just for future reference,” she whispered. “All that sparkle and charm of yours … is highly overrated.”

         His hands drifted down to her belt.

         “It is?” he asked, fiddling around with the buckle, taking his time. “Damn. How am I supposed to seduce you, then?”

         “Don’t know,” she said softly. “You’re out of luck, I think.”

         But then her eyes opened wide and she pulled back as if startled out of a dream.

         “Wait, wait, wait,” she said, shifting her weight to the dresser. “There was something I needed to tell you, remember?”

         “Oh yeah,” Jace said, following her back.

         “That necklace you gave me –” she tried, but her words trailed to breathy nonsense when the back of Jace’s hand slid up her thigh. “When … I was outside … it started –” Reflexively, she hugged him in tighter, biting her lower lip. “Glowing,” she groaned in his ear; then trembling, she finally kissed him. “Rain,” she added, pulling away just long enough to say the word.

         “Interesting.”

         Jace’s other hand, on Isabelle’s waist until now, moved up to unbutton her blouse.

         “That’s about it,” she whispered.

         “Sounds good.”

***

         A clap of thunder jolted Jace out of a sound sleep, springing him to a sitting position and drawing his eyes to the balcony. The storm had not let up, but Isabelle had slept through the ruckus, her bare back bobbing rhythmically in the hall light seeping under the door.

         Sighing, Jace was about to lie back down when another flash flooded the room and almost gave him a heart attack; the adrenaline rush so intense it felt as if he had been struck by the bolt that revealed the silhouette standing motionless at the end of his bed. It should have been bright enough to reveal the person’s identity, but it didn’t, and Jace opened his mouth to say nothing as the figure started away; a deathly stillness in its wake.

         The rumble of thunder followed, and somehow, Jace mustered the focus to move to the edge of the bed, knowing his weapons were just out of reach on the nightstand. Whoever this person was, he was intended to follow and so he did, picking up his crossbow belt and fastening it around his waist as he glided quietly to the door. There was another flash of lightning then, illuminating the room just long enough to highlight the scars on his chest and track his progress. His crossbows were drawn, and he used one to nudge the door open a little further to reveal this shadow of a person standing in the hallway, arms crossed.

         “Salvēte, Jace Dabriel.”

         “Who are you?” Jace asked, glancing up and down the hall as he stepped into it. He was perfectly aware that his tone lacked the appropriate level of outrage, considering whoever this was had just invaded his room, but the terrifying shock was still coursing through his veins, and now relief was numbing his anger.

         “I think you know. Pay more attention to the voice.”

         Jace was annoyed but he didn’t immediately respond, occupied with surveying the corridor, making sure there were no more surprise guests lurking about. Satisfied they were alone, he turned his attention back to the mystery man.

         “Yeah, you know what? I’ve about reached my tolerance for intrigue tonight, so why don’t you just go ahead and tell me who you are,” he said, crossbows aimed steady. “Because honestly, I’m thinking about shooting you right now.”

         “Shoot me?” the man asked, surprised. “Harsh, young Outrider. Harsh.” He stood upright, taking half a step away from the wall. “For if I had meant you harm, I would have just killed you in your sleep.”

         Sensing the advance, Jace tensed before the man’s face was revealed in the light, and then his arms fell limply to his sides. It was Artemus Ward, there could be no denying that, but as he appeared in all the paintings and history books. How he looked at the time he disappeared: a man in his twenties. The gray cloak he wore was of an Outrider of Veil’driel, but his various citations and accomplishments were signified in the form of patches sewn into it; it was an antiquated practice, now decades out of date.

         “That’s right, Jace,” he said matter-of-factly. “For your sake, I hope that tolerance ain’t been reached quite yet.”

         Artemus was still mostly in shadow, but not in the same way. In the last several seconds the surroundings had grown steadily brighter, as if Jace had walked suddenly from the darkness into the full light of day. He squinted, raising his forearm to shield his eyes as he turned back to the doorway, finding instead the gaping entrance of a cavern.

         He was fully clothed now, outfitted as he would be in the midst of a mission.

         “We don’t have much time,” Jace heard, and by the time he turned back, his eyes were adjusted, finding the young Artemus Ward leaning casually against an axe-like outcropping that extended from the rock face. “You’re speechless, I see.”

         “Yeah,” Jace said, taking in the new setting. “I wonder why that is.”

         Artemus smiled a little.

         “Is this …?”

         “Bryce Valley. In a manner of speaking. In reality you’re still standing in Lornda Manor.”

         Jace found something uncomfortable about having the cavern entrance at his back, and it was a sensation he had grown to know well. It was the feeling of hesitation and doubt, everything that had haunted him for months; though he wasn’t facing it, the darkness permeated his every thought. It took all of his effort to finally step aside.

         “The negative energy you feel in there is entirely manufactured,” Artemus remarked as he watched the young Outrider move. “To repel the uninitiated.”

         “From what?” Jace asked, still recovering.

         “From what the Veil’driel Republic wishes to know most of all, as I’m sure you’ve figured out by now.” He walked to the edge of the cliff they were standing on and peered over the side. Then he turned towards the end of the valley, to the massive Sky Gate. “The ability to travel great distances instantaneously.”

         “And are you really Artemus Ward?” Jace asked, surprised at how easily the absurd question passed his lips.

         “Partly,” he answered, distracted, and he buried his hands in his pockets. Most of his attention was still on the ancient door that controlled access to the Kingdom of Sindell. “More like an echo, really.” He shrugged. “Or the manifestation of an echo?”

         Jace couldn't look away. Despite the extreme circumstances, he was remarkably easy to talk to. The imposing authority he would command as an older man was all but gone, replaced instead by a sort of intense magnetism.

         “An echo? An echo of what?”

         Artemus turned around against the breathtaking backdrop of the valley.

         “A part of the man who died here. Before his heart was corrupted forever. Before he followed it at the expense of his principles.”

         “But … how is any of this –”

         “I’m not here to give you a lesson in supernatural forces,” Artemus said, shaking his head and waving his hand dismissively. A mounting urgency was evident now. “You’ll understand more than you can imagine in time. Trust me.”

         Jace sighed.

         “Then why are you here? What is this?”

         “I’m here to help you,” Artemus said, sliding his hands from his pockets. “What this is depends on you. It could be the turning of the tide or the end of life as you know it. On Ciridian, at first, and then the rest of the world.”

         Jace reattached the crossbows to his belt.

         “Okay,” he said, looking down and massaging his forehead with the tips of his fingers. “Whatever.”

         Artemus curved his lips into a broadening smile.

         “A little overwhelmed?” he asked lightly. “Can’t say I blame you. Tonight’s been pretty intense, right? What with the Ciridian Communion Vault, and now,” he gestured around him. “All this. I mean, up until a few hours ago you didn't even know the name of this continent,” he chuckled.

         Jace laughed a little, appreciating the understanding.

         “Intense,” he reflected. “Intense doesn't even begin to describe it.”

         “Heh. Yeah,” Artemus nodded, but then the amicable expression on his face disappeared in a flash, his features hardening to stone, and he charged. “You are an Outrider of Veil’driel, and a member of a point team!” he screamed, grabbing Jace by his cloak and pulling him closer. “You objectively internalize your circumstances, and then you deal with it. Having your head spin comes with the territory. You don’t have the luxury of waiting for your mind to catch up. You eat the impossible for breakfast or people die!”

         Jace pivoted to throw Artemus back but he was released before he had to.

         “You think you’ve been suffering from the symptoms of a mind recovering from trauma? You haven’t. The visions, the flashes, the doubts and worry; they’re the price of a greater perception.” Artemus took another step backward, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. “You were closer to death that night than you’ve let on. Closer than even Isabelle knows.”

         “Yeah.”

         “That was your first step into this world. Into an existence you’re destined to be a part of,” he said on his way to the cavern. “And a cosmic irony to be sure.”

         Jace turned to follow, matching Artemus’ stride all the way to the jagged opening.

         “What do you mean?”

         “I mean that the Artemus Ward you know will lose the most by what you’re about to see. By what you may one day become.” He glanced sidelong to Jace and waited for him to make eye contact. “Yet, that night on the Fairlawn Thoroughfare, it was his arrow that made it possible. He’ll tell you as much when you meet again. Because you’ll ask the same question.”

         Jace sighed. He could simply do nothing else.

         “You’re all wrapped up in the supernatural now, kid. But it’ll bleed into the physical world, too. Always does.”

         An abrupt burst of light filled Jace’s vision, overtaking him with such intensity that it almost knocked him over. When it faded, he was standing on the edge of the Fairlawn Woods, staring out at the enemy army camp he had seen so clearly that night.

         “That’s right,” Artemus said, knowing what Jace had just seen, and then he stepped into the cave. “Come,” his voice beckoned from the shadows.

         Jace took a deep breath, but he no longer feared the darkness. It was as if it had been purified somehow. Or was it merely my perception that changed? he wondered. Looking down at his hands, he exhaled. He felt the warmth of the sun overhead, the air in his lungs, and a wave of compelling willpower sweep over him.

         Stepping into the cavern, there was nothing but blackness at first, but then the hard rock beneath his boots softened as the stifling air grew cool. A familiar sizzling sound followed, his hands felt the bite of winter, and Jace knew where he was even before the light restored to reveal the lush green plain.

         The wizards were formed in séance circles all across the field, their gemstone necklaces sparkling with the work of summoning comets to attack Fairlawn City. All around them, enslaved minotaurs lurked, brooding behind their carts of the reagents that fueled the hellish fire.

         Absently, as if he had no conscious choice in the matter, Jace found himself walking up to one of the wizards, close enough to hear the quiet chanting emanating from within its dark cowl. Without hesitating, he reached out and touched the being’s robe, recoiling his hand when it disrupted in waves like a reflection in water.

         “Wondering how they hide those barbed wire staffs?” Artemus asked from off to the side, watching as the wizard rematerialized.

         “No,” Jace said, looking up into the sky. “I was wondering which one of those seven hells I’m in.” He turned back to Artemus. “You know, for drinking that wine.”

         “Yes, I got it. Good one.”

         “But now that you mention it …”

         “Their weapons are summoned as they need them,” Artemus explained, and he pointed to one as it left its circle and started off into the woods. “It’s why that one was unarmed after you shot him in the face.”

         Jace watched the robed figure until it disappeared into the woods, trying desperately not to think. He was actually grateful when Artemus started speaking again.

         “Everything you’re seeing here, everything you experienced that night, was just a diversion,” he said. “An elaborate scheme to keep Veil’driel from rendering aid to Sindell. To keep the Republic out of the war.”

         The roaring crackle of another comet spiraling into the sky startled Jace by its close proximity, and while he turned to watch it arc over the Fairlawn Woods, he never stopped listening to Artemus.

         “Relic asked the right questions tonight. Why would Artemus lie about armies occupying Veil’driel? What would he have to gain? But he didn’t have enough of the big picture to follow through.”

         “Then why?” Jace asked.

         “He reported them to Jaden because she had to believe Veil’driel was under siege and cut off from her, in effect, keeping her completely isolated.”

         Jace sighed and ran his hand back through his hair, trying his best to understand.

         “No,” he said defiantly. “Veil’driel only believed the outer provinces were occupied because Relic and I reported an army at our doorstep. So the High Council and First Consul Leverette had their information from the Outrider Order, not by some lie told by Artemus Ward.”

         “You’re right. I … he didn’t tell them the lie directly. He told them through you. The illusion of an army here was not a failsafe as Cedwyn suggested in the Communion Vault. It wasn’t meant to serve as a backup deterrent in case the scouts made it through. That night you made it here, to the edge of Fairlawn Woods,” he motioned around. “This night. It was the final stage of the plan, Jace. Artemus knew minotaurs would not be enough to stop Outriders, and that Fenlow Thean would eventually send them.”

         “Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Jace said, taking a couple steps closer to Artemus, visibly angry. “We were sending scouts through these woods for weeks before Relic and I were dispatched,” he said, his tone bordering on accusation. “If what you say is true, and Artemus wanted the sight reported to General Creed, then why not just let the original scouts pass through and report it themselves?”

         Artemus nodded, and he appeared pleased that Jace was thinking logically.

         “Tactics,” he said simply. “Artemus was going up against Fenlow Thean, who might have, for reasons you will one day understand, suspected a trick like this. But he has a weakness.”

         “Yeah, what’s that?” Jace asked, almost threateningly.

         “His deep-seated love for, and overwhelming confidence in, that which he treasures most. “

         There was an extended pause then, as if Artemus had purposely left the space open.

         “The Outriders?” Jace asked at length, annoyed by the delay.

         “You.”

         Jace’s shoulders sagged immediately. He had been clinging to his anger, Artemus knew, as a last resort to maintain strength, and then in that moment it was stolen from him.

         “To sell it, he had to make General Creed, but especially Fenlow, work for it. When you came through, it was expected. There was nothing to doubt.”

         Jace said nothing; he just took an unsteady breath.

         “But the plan was only a partial success,” Artemus went on. “And what was meant to be a permanent solution became a temporary one.”

         At this, Jace looked up and found Artemus sitting on the edge of the massive reagent wagon from which the minotaurs loaded their carts.

         “How?”

         Artemus smiled and nodded to the southward ridge, and the illusory army camp.

         “You didn’t just report the army. You attacked the sky fire units, and when that happened, their concentration was broken. The consequences went well beyond losing their hold on the minotaurs. They maintained the illusion as well, and if you hadn’t been so busy fighting for your life, you might have noticed that the army disappeared as soon as you tossed that lighter in here,” he said, patting the reagents he was seated on.

         Jace looked back up to the ridge, to the army that still appeared to be there.

         “So while I was recovering in the city,” he said. “And the minotaurs left the Fairlawn Woods, it opened the door for more scouts to make it through. It would have appeared as if the army had retreated.”

         “And the inevitable deployment of an Outrider Point Team to report all enemy activity in Veil’driel,” Artemus added.

         “And so while the powers that be wasted their time with strategies based on armies and scenarios that didn’t exist, effectively keeping us out of the war a little longer, our reports started disproving the illusion.” Jace turned slowly to the young Artemus Ward, seeking validation, perhaps. “And then Jaden arrived in Veil’driel.”

         “At which point it was only a matter of time before we came to tonight’s culmination. Rendering the plan …” He paused again, leaving the space open as he had earlier.

         “Temporary,” Jace said, nodding to himself.

         Artemus looked to the trees.

         “Yes, congratulations. I do believe you’ve got it now.”

         Jace turned away and took a few steps from the reagent wagon.

         “That’s what scares me.”

         A few moments passed, and as Artemus expected, an awkward robed figure, which was Jace in disguise, emerged from the woods. The present Jace, however, was lost in his thoughts.

         “Hypothetically, my motives could be unknown,” Jace said, recalling Artemus Ward’s words in the Communion Vault. “Every agent of Arkhelan can read the Outrider code.” He stuck his arms out at his sides and screamed into the air, an unbridled rage surging through him that he hadn’t felt since the night he was reliving. “It’s so obvious now, and I made his case for him!” he yelled. “I sat there and helped!”

         “But not by your own volition,” Artemus was quick to point out. “His eyes. They changed color, didn’t they?”

         The look on Jace’s face was all the answer Artemus needed.

         “You were being manipulated,” he said. “All of you were. The way you suddenly felt the need to defend him. The way his explanation of events made so much sense …”

         Then, in an instant, Jace went from seething anger to stunned shock, his mind going blank with the bizarre perspective of watching himself approach the reagent cart in disguise. For a moment or two, he remained transfixed, and when he spoke again it was like he was daydreaming.

         “You said Artemus is the one who tried to kill me,” he said, focusing.

         “Yes.”

         Jace finally turned to face him and Artemus leapt from the reagent wagon.

         “Show me why,” he said.

         Not a single word was spoken; Artemus’ only response a bare nod before the terrain under their feet sped by in a blur, as if the landscape were a rug pulling them closer to the ridge and the army.

         An army that was gone when they got there.

         There were two golden riders, mounted on steeds equipped with crystals casting unnatural light on their surroundings, while less than twenty yards behind them an entire troop was poised for action. Both were adorned in crimson robes that flowed around them. The closest was Artemus Ward as he appeared in the present day, looking strong with his helmet on his lap.

         Jace’s guide throughout this absurd experience was nowhere to be found.

         “Well that’s one way to commit suicide, I guess,” the other rider commented. Her helmet hid her face, but it was the voice of Hazel Lien.

         “Do not dishonor his courage,” Artemus remarked in a tone as casual as his movement to reach for his spyglass. Looking at Artemus, Hazel merely nodded before turning back to observe the developing action.

         “How does this change things?” she asked.

         Jace moved to face the plain as well. He was too far away to track the events of that night completely, but he could see fire coming from the wagon.

         Artemus did not answer her.

         “Shouldn’t we advance?” she pressed.

         “No, not yet,” Artemus said with traces of amusement, watching through the spyglass. “Outriders are deployed in pairs on missions like these. The other could be watching from the woods.”

         “The other one could be dead,” she said.

         “Perhaps,” Artemus admitted. “We’ll know soon enough.”

         “Oh?”

         He was still focused on all the activity, watching as one of the wizards landed a solid blow to Jace’s shoulder with its barbed wire staff.

         “Outriders may be trained to regard their reconnaissance above all else, even the lives of others,” Artemus said, sounding distracted as he lowered his spyglass for a broader perspective. “But they never abandon their own. He’s good, that one.”

         Hazel shrugged, looking at her master again.

         “Perhaps we should allow him to return,” she said. “If he survives this, he will surely report the army he has seen. As you planned.”

         “No, that contingency is forfeit,” he said, closing the spyglass and stowing it away in his saddlebag. “The illusion depends on them to maintain,” he said nodding down to where the sky fire units were in complete disarray. Some were pursuing the Outrider, others being decimated by the minotaurs. “And it’s safe to say they have other things on their minds. The illusion of the army is gone. Now it’s only a matter of time.”

         “What?”

         “These events will be impossible to conceal,” Artemus said, turning to his protégé. “Jaden has more sources of information than us alone. She’ll come here when she hears. Veil’driel will enter the war.”

         “But …” Hazel’s horse took several steps in place, anxious. “She’ll know you were lying. She’ll know there’s no enemy host occupying the Veil’driel provinces. She’ll see for herself!”

         “Calm,” Artemus said gently, holding up a hand. “We were prepared for this.”

         “But, this means –”

         “No plan survives the battlefield, love,” he said, cutting her off with a disarming smile that commanded assurance. “This only means a more aggressive approach must be taken.” He sighed. “One I was hoping to avoid.”

         Some of the tension drained from Hazel’s shoulders and she nodded, looking back down to the plain to see Relican Avery exploding from the Fairlawn wood line.

         “There!” she yelled, pointing.

         Artemus hardly reacted as he opened the saddlebag down to his left, withdrawing a small pouch of the herbal amphetamine known as feverlew and placing some in the back of his mouth. Beside him, Hazel Lien followed suit, removing her helmet just long enough to do the same. Now Artemus checked the contents of a deep leather bag dangling from his saddle, opening it to reveal the reagents inside.

         “Prepare to advance.”

         “Yes, sir,” Hazel acknowledged, and twisted in her saddle to convey a series of hand signals to the golden riders behind them.

         “Now. Let us test the extent of their fortune.” Artemus rolled his armored shoulders back and flexed his hands on the reins. “On me,” he bellowed, and they were off, pounding the ground like rolling thunder, forming lines of three abreast; gliding with an uncanny gracefulness despite their heavy armor.

         Jace was left in their dust, motionless even as the last rider passed him, watching their frenzied yet organized departure towards the plain. In the distance, the reagent wagon was utterly engulfed in intensifying flames that had taken on a deep purple hue. A moment later, it exploded, rocketing a pillar of smoke miles high and a rainbow colored shockwave in his direction. It was beautiful and horrifying, like the comet attacks. Instinctively, Jace raised his arms to shield himself from the blast, but just as it reached the ridge and swept over him, all was whitened out again.

         He found himself back in Bryce Valley.

         “The golden riders were once the protectors of the shamanists who inhabited this valley. What Veil’driel historians would refer to as ancient druids,” the young Artemus said, standing in front of Jace again. “Artemus became their leader thirty years ago.”

         Jace tried to speak, but he couldn’t find his tongue, and Artemus went on.

         “You must get to her, Jace, and things will grow clearer. She can answer questions. Make you see in a way that even I cannot.”

         “But?” Jace hesitated, steadying himself and taking a deep breath. “How? Artemus has our horses in his stable. I mean, assuming we can even get to them. Is he just gonna let us leave?”

         “No!” a voice yelled from behind Artemus, and when Jace looked past him he saw three other riders approaching, the sun flaring over their shoulders from behind so that their faces were revealed only gradually as they grew closer.

         “Constable Thean,” Jace said, throwing up his arms slightly at his sides and just shaking his head. “Sure. Why not?”

         But it wasn’t just Thean. It was the original Outrider point team all in a row, legends all, young and strong.  Beside them, a riderless horse.

         “Hold it together, boy,” Thean said, reprimanding him in the same way Jace was used to despite his youthful appearance. “His servants, his staff. They are, all of them, golden riders. A small contingent set to stay behind and guard the Manor.”

         “The rest are en route to Sindell. Carrying with them the knowledge to lower the force field over the capital,” said Ailmar Duchyene, the father Aleister had never known.

         Artemus moved over to the horse with the empty saddle, climbing up, and with that, Jace was facing the original Outrider Point Team in its entirety.

         “Artemus will be joining them by different means,” he said.

         A blinding flash of light consumed the surroundings, but when it faded none of the others gave the impression they had seen it.

         “But … what am I supposed to do? What do you need me to do?” Jace asked, desperate.

         “You will have to figure that out for yourself, son,” Thean said. “Your fate is with Jaden, but we cannot interfere beyond telling you that.”

         “The library is a good place to start, though,” Gabriel Foy spoke up for the first time. Tall and lanky, he was the only one with a coiled rope hanging from his saddle. “Twenty, four hundred two.”

         “Twenty, four hundre –?”

         “Veil’driel will be undefended now,” Ailmar cut him off. “You must make your own decisions. Trust your own instincts.”

         “We’ll help as we can, but our purpose is served and our influence must fade,” Thean added.

         Just then, Jace found himself struck with a sudden revelation; a moment of clarity in the senseless madness that was this experience.

         “You,” he said, looking at his mentor. “It was you I heard talking to me that night.”

         “Don’t even think about it, boy. Your partner should be back at the camp by now and I suggest you join him,” he heard Thean’s voice quote himself from that night, although his mouth didn’t move. Then he nodded.

         Jace understood.

         “Follow your own instincts,” Artemus said, reinforcing Ailmar’s point. “As you did that night in Fairlawn.”

         “This night will parallel that one,” Gabriel said.

         The blinding flash consumed the scene again, but at a longer interval this time.

         “It’s your time now, and things can fall into place if you let them,” Artemus said. “You can become what I failed to.”

         Jace looked around, noticing for the first time that hundreds of druids were staring down from the cliffs and down to the valley floor. He didn’t have to see their eyes to know they were focused on him; he felt it, and he found himself wondering how long they had been there as the rumble of airship engines rumbled overhead, growing closer.

         The young incarnations of Fenlow Thean, Gabriel Foy, and even Artemus Ward looked up at the approaching commotion, but strangely, Ailmar Duchyene did not. He locked stares with Jace instead, and there in that moment, Jace thought he saw Cedwyn Knight in his eyes.

         “Reach for the ankle,” Ailmar said, but the sound of his voice was distorted, his movements having become sluggish with the rest of the valley around them. “He can’t attack you if you’re touching him.”

         There were explosions then, as the airships’ attacks rained into Bryce Valley, kicking up massive chunks of ground and leaving tremendous craters where they struck. All was slow motion, and the last thing Jace saw was the energy dispersed from above, shocking him with the realization that they were exactly the same as the comets fired by the wizards on Fairlawn City.

         Then the vibrant concussion of pure white blinded him, enveloping him in a blanket of bleached vision and absolute silence. When it waned, Jace found himself on the balcony attached to his room, the vibrant flash that consumed his every sense merging with the lighthouse shining in his face. The rain had stopped, and while he was shirtless, as he had been when the vision began, he was comfortable. The sun was not yet above the horizon, but it was warm, unseasonably so for spring, even on the edge of Veil’driel.

         He jumped, startled by the feel of a soft hand on his chest.

         “What are you doing out here?” Isabelle asked from behind him.

         Jace didn’t speak, but he reached up to touch her wrist.

         “Hm?” she asked again, kissing his neck.

         “How long have I been out here?”

         “A while,” she said, moving her mouth down to his shoulder. “Why are you so far away?” Again, he did not respond. “Hey,” she said, biting him gently but hard enough to snap his thoughts fully to her. “What are you thinking about?”

         Jace glanced down and to the side so she was in his peripheral vision.

         “My grandfather,” he said. “And the summers I spent with him before I was recruited by Thean.”

         “Tell me about it,” she whispered, resting her head on his shoulder.

         “His house was old,” Jace began, breathing deep of the saltwater air. “In the night, I swore it was haunted. I’d wake up at the howl of some faraway animal or creak in the floorboards. Sweating and hiding under the covers.” By the subtle fluctuation of Isabelle’s chest against his back, Jace could feel her amusement. “I never called out for him, though. Not once. But it didn’t matter; he always came to my room. To this day I don’t know how he knew I was awake, but he was always there. Like clockwork.”

         “What would he do?” Isabelle asked.

         Jace shrugged.

         “Not much, usually. Most of the time he would just sit there, puffing his pipe in the shadows of the corner, reciting the details of some monotonous aspect of farm life from a rickety chair he made.” He paused, laughing a little at the thought. “You couldn’t have paid me enough to sit in that thing. It was literally the worst craftsmanship you could imagine. I mean it almost collapsed every time he sat down, but he loved it.” Jace paused, sobering a bit. “He loved that damn chair.”

         “He sounds sweet,” Isabelle whispered, but she sensed him growing distant again.

         “He would talk until I fell asleep, always from that corner,” he went on, giving no indication he had even heard Isabelle. “Except this one night. This one night he sat on the edge of my bed. I remember he seemed so serious. I knew there was something different about him, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask. I could only listen. He hadn’t brought his pipe with him, and he set the lantern near my bed on low. Then he waited for me to look into his eyes before speaking.

         Jace hesitated again, closing his eyes and listening to the tide. This time, Isabelle could only wait for him to continue. There was something she sensed in him that was frightening. Something foreign she couldn’t define, and it stole away her speech.

         “He told me never to be ashamed of my fear. That fear was our defense against those who waged war from the shadows. To deny concern … or foreboding … was to accept disaster. He said deception is the fire that forges the armor of demons. That they guard themselves behind shields of betrayal, wielding weapons of deceit.” Now he opened his eyes as the first ships broke over the horizon. “He said when demons wage war on the angels, they can't win through strength of arms. They come sideways to achieve their means. They lull them to sleep with their lies.”

         “Jace, you’re scaring me.”

         Jace turned around, taking her in; the intervals of sweeping light highlighting the sheet she was holding around her, making it look like ghost. He put his hands on the sides of her face, pulling her lips to his, kissing her deeply before pulling her into an embrace, waiting for her to look at the ocean from over his shoulder. Waiting for her to see what was coming.

         It was only a second before her entire body tensed. Her hand on his back grabbing so hard that her nails broke his skin.

         “That’s …” she trailed off, pulling him closer. “That’s impossible.”

         He closed his eyes, wondering how many times that phrase had been used since they arrived. He inhaled the scent of rose oil on her, keeping it in his lungs as long as he could.

         “Who are they?” she whispered as if the armada on the horizon might hear if she spoke any louder.

         “The demons,” Jace said, letting her go. He backed away and moved to the rain-filled bottle of Orinel Lin. Then, without so much as a glance to the sea, poured it out over the side.

         Isabelle wasn’t looking at the ships anymore, either. She was staring at Jace, as if she didn’t know him.

         “You don’t have to be afraid.”

         A part of her wanted to approach him, before a different part caused her to stop.

         “How can you say that?”

         When Jace raised his head again, the look in his eyes was as intense as she could ever remember. There was a fire there she didn’t know how to interpret, and a terrified excitement swept over her like a warm breeze in winter. She wondered if this was how he appeared that night in Fairlawn. If she was seeing that side of him he had never, until now, dared to show her.

         “Because my eyes are open,” he said. “I can finally see through the shadows.”

         Isabelle shifted to hold the sheet with both hands, and while Jace didn’t touch her, she craned her head to stare at him.

         “I love you,” she said, without thought.

         Jace’s lips parted slightly as he made to respond, but it wasn’t his words that came out. For in that instant, an eerie warbling note echoed over the sea, vibrating the air with its rumble long after it died away. It was answered a few seconds later by another terrible chord; massive horns heralding triumph.

         Coasting low to the surface of the deep, the armada could still scarcely be seen, glimpsed only by the light of a handful of stars.

         The lookouts had caught sight of land.

         Time was running out.

***

         “Eat the impossible for breakfast?” Cedwyn said, rubbing an apple against the front of his shirt. “A little hammy, don’t ya think? Even for an omnipresent version of the guy.”

         Cedwyn’s room was nearly identical to the one Jace was staying in; the only difference the artwork on the doors leading out to the balcony. In Jace’s room, the lower portion of the stained glass depicted a ship on dangerous seas; here, it showed a towering minaret rising high from an endless desert.

         “That whole story,” Relic said, staring out to the sea with his spyglass. “And that’s the part you have a problem with?”

         Cedwyn took his first bite of the fruit and shrugged, then picked up his pack and buckled it around his shoulder. Relic's comment had paralleled one he himself had made in the Communion Vault, but he didn't appear notice.

         “No.” He held the apple in his mouth for a second so he could slip on his cloak. “I have a problem with all of it. But I’m used to him having these flashbacks or visions or whatever. So I’d prefer to hold off on the analyzing and concentrate on the getting out of here.”

         Isabelle had dressed and prepared with Jace before leaving his room.

         “Can’t argue with that,” she said, leaning against the wall near the door.

         “How long?” Cedwyn asked as he came to Relic’s side. He didn’t have a spyglass of his own, but he could still see the armada with each revolution of the lighthouse.

         “An hour. A little more if we’re lucky,” Relic said. “But then they’ll have to dock, unload, mobilize.”

         Cedwyn sighed and turned to Jace.

         “What do ya think?”

         Jace had been standing next to Isabelle, but now he walked over to join Relic and Cedwyn.

         “Well, we can’t just walk out of here, if that’s what you’re hoping,” he said. “They’ll definitely have guards in the lobby.”

         “Then we’ll shoot our way through,” Cedwyn said, doing a double take with Isabelle, seeking her support. “Sneak out to the landing, see how many are down there, and take ’em out.” Relic handed him the spyglass and he used it to look out at the ships for the first time. “How is this not a good plan?”

         Jace started to respond, but briefly hesitated when the spyglass was passed to him.

         “Because they’ll have an even larger group guarding the bridge,” he said, distracted. “And the stables. How far do you think we’d get without horses?”

         “If they’re golden riders? Not far,” Relic said, answering the rhetorical question as he walked away from the doors. “Bastards are like us.”

         “With rabies,” Isabelle added.

         Cedwyn reached into his cloak, withdrawing his leather case and placing the half-eaten apple on the nightstand.

         “Fine,” he said, putting a cigarette in his mouth. “Then what are we gonna do? For all we know, they’re on their way to kill us as we speak.”

         “No, I don’t think so,” Jace said, lowering the spyglass and tossing it back to Relic. He was facing the group now. “We’ve already served our purpose. Veil’driel is no longer protected, and so if Artemus wanted us dead, he would have ordered it already.”

         “Hm,” Cedwyn mused, annoyed by Jace’s assumption as he took a long drag of tobacco. “I gotta say, I find that interesting. Because if I understood any of that hallucination of yours, he tried to kill you and Relic once before.”

         Jace only shrugged.

         “Yeah, I don’t know. I just think he would have done it already.”

         Cedwyn lowered his head, rolling the cigarette between his fingers and watching it burn.

         “So, what do you suggest we do?” Relic asked.

         Jace crossed his arms and took a moment to gather his thoughts.

         “Even if by some impossible miracle we managed to escape the mansion, what then?”

         “We high tail it back to Avaleen,” Cedwyn said, looking up. “Warn the High Council and Leverette.”

         “And what would be the point?” Jace asked. “Artemus has already sprung his trap. We just told Aleister there’s no enemy army in Veil’driel, and so thanks to us, our legions are marching to Sindell as we speak. The Republic is defenseless. We could ride at full speed with no rest, and it might cut the time it took to get out here in half. That’s still three months.” He nodded over to the doors, towards the ocean and the ships in the night. “We’ll inform First Consul Leverette of that army on its way, and there’ll be literally nothing he can do about it.”

         The look in Relic’s eyes spoke for all of them, struck numb in desperate silence.

         “We couldn’t even warn the wizardess that Artemus has betrayed her,” Jace went on. “There’s no communication between Veil’driel and Sindell anymore.”

         “Which I doubt is coincidence,” Isabelle said.

         “So what?” Cedwyn asked. “We give up and do nothing?”

         “No.”

         “Then what?”

         Jace was standing with the others now and he plucked the cigarette from Cedwyn’s mouth, placing it in his own.

         “There’s something in the library we need to get to,” he said, turning his attention to Relic. “Section 20-402. You know where that is?”

         “Of course. I’ve spent enough time down there to get around with my eyes closed.”

         “Good,” Jace said, flicking ash to the floor.

         “What’s in there?” Isabelle asked.

         “Don’t know. I don’t even know if it’ll help us or not, but it’s important.”

         “Something else from this vision of yours?” Cedwyn asked.

         Jace looked at him seriously.

         “Yeah,” he said. “A twenty-something Gabriel Foy told me.”

         Cedwyn rolled his eyes, sighed, and snatched his cigarette back.

         “Fine,” he said. “That’s good enough for me.”

         “It is?” Isabelle asked, surprised. She wasn’t so convinced. “So we get into the library, to that location. Then what?”

         “Find whatever’s there, and if we can, take it with us,” Jace said, slowly surveying the others. “Then we try to get down to that Communion Vault and see if we can contact Aleister. If we do, he could recall the legions and that would actually make a difference.”

         “It would also almost certainly end in our deaths,” Relic pointed out. “Assuming we were even lucky enough to figure out how it works.”

         Jace nodded.

         “It’s a risk, I know. But it’s the only thing I can think of. Artemus sent most of his golden riders to Sindell, which means only a small contingent has been left behind. And keep in mind, they think we’re totally in the dark on this.”

         “That’s where Hazel was really going last night,” Relic said, traces of disappointment in his tone as he spoke more to himself than anyone.

         “Yeah, she’s one of his captains,” Jace said. “They’ve found a way to lower the force field Artemus told us about last night. Probably because Jaden had a hand in its creation, so he’s familiar with it.”

         Isabelle shuddered at the thought of what those Winged Creatures could do to an undefended city; the terrifying memory of seeing them in the Communion Vault still frighteningly fresh in her mind.

         “If he pulls that off,” Relic said. “The arrival of our forces won’t mean a thing.”

Cedwyn shook his head as he bent to snuff the cigarette out on the floor.

         “Artemus Ward,” he said with disdain. “If not for those ships out there, I wouldn’t even believe it.”

         “Anyway,” Jace said, watching Cedwyn stand up again. “After we get our message to Aleister, we take what we’ve learned from this place, and then try to shoot our way out of here. Ride like hell for home.” He paused, forcing a smile. “Maybe we’ll even be put back in command of our cavalry legions.”

         Relic laughed a little.

         “Jace. Are you actually trying to convince us we might survive this?”

         “Yeah. Why not? We’ve come through worse situations than this before.”

         The Outriders, his family, just stared at him with blank expressions.

         Finally Jace shrugged.

         “This is the only shot we have of saving the Republic. Sindell is probably already lost, but at least we can save our home. I don’t know what else to say.”

         They were standing in a circle now, facing each other, and Cedwyn was first to break the silence.

         “Well, like I said.” He crossed his arms and looked to the others. “That’s good enough for me.”

         Isabelle nodded, in agreement this time.

         “Me too,” she said.

         Relic withdrew one of his crossbows.

         “Yeah,” he said, extending his arm and closing one eye to inspect the sights. “Anything’s better than just standing here.”

         Just then, Jace and Isabelle’s eyes met, but the sound of Cedwyn’s voice brought their attention back to him.

         “So what are we waiting for?”

         “We need to scout the lobby,” Jace said. “We need to know how many are down there.”

         Cedwyn nodded, and with no hesitation whatsoever, took his first strides to the door. But then he turned slowly back to Jace, an odd expression on his face as he came to a sudden realization.

         “You already know how many are down there, don’t you?” he asked.

         Jace smiled.

         “Suspect,” he said, and he thought of Constable Thean saying the same thing to him six months earlier.

         “You know,” Cedwyn said. He cracked the door open and finished the thought in a whisper: “I liked it a lot better when I thought you were suffering from post-traumatic stress.”

         Then Cedwyn was off, hunched over and moving quietly down the hall towards the lobby. Isabelle and Jace followed quickly behind him, but only to the doorway, scouting opposite ends of the corridor from the room. Isabelle was looking left, back in the direction of Jace’s room. Jace was looking right, following Cedwyn’s path.

         Straight out across from the room, an oil painting depicted a desolate landscape of dunes, each one running in bands of dark colors. High, rust red cliffs leaned toward one another to create a natural arch, the chasm at the top crisscrossed by the bleached bones of some monstrous animal that had been lashed together by unknown means. The pale net of bone cast its own ominous shadow at the mouth of the Minotaur Lands.

         When Jace and Isabelle looked back to check opposite ends of the hall, they found themselves looking at each other, and smiled. Then Cedwyn was returning, so they stepped aside to let him back in.

         “Congratulations,” he said to Jace. “You’re officially one of the mysterious figures of intrigue you used to hate.” He took a minute to catch his breath. It was not far from his room to the main lobby, but it was not the physical exertion of his reconnaissance so much as he had forgotten to breathe. “Four servants roaming around the lobby. Charles and three younger guys.”

         “Armed?” Relic asked, still standing near the bed.

         “Doesn’t look like it. But neither do we.”

         “That’s good news,” Jace said. “They think we don’t know, like I thought.”

         “Then maybe they won’t even stop us from going into the library,” Isabelle said. “Maybe we can walk right past them as long as we don’t try to get out the front door. You said yourself it seems like their goal is just to keep us inside.”

         Jace shrugged.

         “Maybe,” he said. “But they’d have to be pretty stupid not to suspect we were fully armed underneath these cloaks, otherwise why would we be wearing them? The element of surprise is the only card we’re holding, and no matter what, we can’t risk it.”

         “Even if they let us go into the library, they’d report our activity,” Relic nodded, getting the point.

         “So we kill them,” Cedwyn said. “Fine.”

         Jace balled his hand into a fist and pressed it against his chin. Then sighed.

         “Yeah. But even assuming we could get them all before they made it out the door, the sound of the scuffle would alert the golden riders outside. And we’ve already established that if we walk past them, they’ll report our activity just the same.”

         “You know," Isabelle spoke up. "We don’t actually know if there are golden riders out there. We’re placing an extraordinary amount of faith in this vision, Jace.”

         Cedwyn looked over to Jace, then Isabelle.

         “Yeah,” he said. “Based on what I just saw, I’m willing to take that chance.”

         Jace started back to the balcony doors, back to the desert and the minaret, where he had set down the bottle upon entering.

         “So where does that put us?” Relic asked. “Back to square one?”

         “No,” Isabelle realized. Until now she wondered why Jace had taken that bottle with him. Now she let out a shaky breath.

         “I know that look in your eye,” Relic said. “And it ends in me wishing I’d become a banker.”

         “You have a plan,” Cedwyn said. “Don’t you?”

         Jace had the bottle flat in his palm and he spun it to an orange blur. Then he grabbed it, halting the momentum cleanly.

         “I do.”

ID: 1582466   (Rated: 13+) Act III: "Where Angels Sleep"  ~Continued~ by The Last Browncoat

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