Another case burst apart on the road as the stagecoach continued to hurtle through the countryside, rattling and bouncing on the uneven surface. “Osran!” the call came from the coach’s roof “Can you not keep it steady for just a second?”

“I’m trying, Tor’.” came the panicky reply from the gangly young man trying desperately to keep control of the two horses bridled to the coach. The world seemed to tremble as a loud eruption shook the road. “You’re not exactly making it easy.” Osran yelled back.

Atop the racing coach, Torana braced herself amongst the remaining cargo, her auburn hair whipping in the wind, jaw set and determined “I could always let them catch us.” The lack of reply drew a small smile to her lips. The riders had been pursuing them for several miles now, men and women on horseback, several with bows.

Torana stood carefully and attuned to the Rhoki of Fire. Her deep blue cloak lashed around her as she shaped the raw energy with her words and the movement of her hands, launching flaming balls towards the riders. The riders scattered, several falling from their horses as the fireballs struck the ground before them, throwing torrents of dirt into the air.

Torana laughed loudly “Only a couple left, Osran.” she called over her shoulder “Keep going.” She turned back to her pursuers and gave a start as she noticed the arrow flying towards her. Panicking, she tried to attune Air, but there was too little time. The arrow sunk into her shoulder as the coach bounced once more.

Torana hit the ground heavily, the impact knocking the wind from her. She lay dazed, with pain radiating from her right shoulder, listening to the sound of the stage coach rattle away. A grim face entered her field of view. The man’s beady eyes squinted down at her. His unshaven face worked into a smug grin.

He reached down to pull Torana up by the front of her robes, his leather armour creaking as he did so. “Up you get, missy.” his gravelly voice irritated Torana already to her right, she heard a bowstring pull taut. “About bloody time you stopped making such a nuisance of yourself and came with us.”

Torana grasped for Fire. She’d blast this fool for even thinking he could stop her. But it remained out of reach. She tried to attune to other Rhoki. Air, Lighting, but nothing would come.

The man’s smirk grew wider as he noticed Torana’s surprise. “That’s right.” He mocked “No more magic and spells for you.” He wound back his fist and punched Torana in her stomach, causing her to double over in pain.

“You have… shard.” she managed to wheeze. “That’s right.” The man fished in a small pouch at his belt, drawing out a small, pink, spiked crystal. “All too easy hunting mages when you have one of these.” He palmed the crystal as he once more pulled Torana to her feet.

Torana coughed “Please,” she gasped “Please don’t hurt me. You’re right, I’m just a poor mage. Everyone knows we’re useless without magic and never  try to fix that by undergoing extensive martial training.” 

The man looked confused. He was barely able to speak the word “What?” before Torana suddenly crouched and spun, sweeping the man’s legs out from under him with her own.

Launching herself backwards, gritting her teeth against the pain in her shoulder, she narrowly avoided being skewered by a second arrow as it skimmed through the space she had just occupied. She drew a dagger from a concealed sheath inside her robes. Spinning gracefully, she threw it at the only other pursuer she could see, striking them in the thigh. Drawing another, she leaped forward once more, stabbing the downed man in the shoulder.

Looking to the second pursuer she called in an emotionless tone “Stay there or he dies.” Seeing that they made no further moves, she leaned in to the man,  twisting the knife as she did so. “I don’t expect to see you following me again, or it’ll be more of the same. Do you understand?” she hissed.

He nodded, the confusion and fear plain on his face as he tried to paw at the knife. A glint caught Torana’s eye. The crystal had fallen from the man’s grapes and now lay beside him on the road.. “Oh,” she pulled the dagger from his shoulder, eliciting a cry of pain “and I’ll be taking this.” Placing the crystal in her own belt pouch, she kicked the man in his stomach for good measure. “Idiot.”

The man curled around his pain as the other nursed their wound and watched the scene unfold with a wary caution. 

Resheathing her dagger, Torana began walking. Osran better be coming back for me.

---

“So you can’t use magic around that rock?” Osran asked. The stagecoach rumbled along at a much steadier pace, the road conditions improving as they approached their destination.

“No.” Torana replied, holding the pink crystal up to the light as she sat next to Osran on the driver’s box “Garon must be getting desperate if he’s willing to pay for one of these to bring me in.” she stretched her aching shoulder.

They had made a brief stop to tend the wound not long after she caught up with Osran. Torana had pulled out the arrow and, ensuring the stone was far enough away from her, briefly attuned the Rhoki of Life to heal the worst of the wound. Despite that, the discomfort remained. Shaping healing energies had always been a struggle for her..

“How does it work?” Osran kept his eyes on the road, occasionally stealing glances towards the young mage.

Torana shrugged “No idea. There are very few alchemists who can make them. All I know is it cuts me off from the Rhoki. They’re often used when hunting rogue mages and binders” 

“Why are you keeping it, then?” 

“It could come in useful. Besides, I’m not keeping it. You are.” Torana held out the nullshard in her hand, offering it towards Osran. “Keep it on you, and if something happens, get away from me so I can cast. You won’t have to go far with a piece this small.” Torana sat back into a more comfortable position on the step “How close are we? I could use a drink.”

Osran took the stone and placed it into the pocket of his jacket “Not far now.”

---

The waters of the Berkobell river flowed by quietly in the late afternoon sunshine as Osran sipped from the deep red liquid in his glass.“How long will we be staying?” He asked.

“The boat leaves tonight, but before then I need to meet my contact.” Torana drained the last of her wine and waved to a server to bring another.

The pair sat in a small café on the banks of the Berkobell in the town of Kisterren, home to the finest vineyards in the region. The café was located in the area of town known as The Canopy. Filled with small, expensive shops lining streets decorated with well kept trees, The Canopy served as a hub for the town’s richer inhabitants. Torana looked out across the lazily flowing water, the gentle breeze and soothing sounds of the river should have helped to ease her anxiety. 

“Are you worried Garon will be sending more to track you down?” Osran asked.

“No. He knows I’m here. It’s an inevitability at this point. I should concentrate on staying ahead of him. Especially as he seems to be getting desperate.” Her thoughts went to the stone currently sitting at Osran’s hip. She hadn’t imagined he’d spend so much on hunting her down. She smiled bitterly to herself. Now I’m worth something.  “Anyway, I can handle whatever he sends.”

Osaran nodded “I’m sure, but perhaps we could be a bit more cautious this time?”

Torana furrowed her brow “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well,” Throwing up his hands in a placating gesture, Osran chuckled nervously “that chase did start because you noticed a large group of people passing around a sketch of you and you just had to challenge them about it.”

Vorana levelled a flat stare at him. “Osran, if I thought for one second you were trying to imply…”

“Torana?” a smooth male voice interrupted her.

Looking up, Torana responded “Yes?” perhaps a bit more tesitly than she intended.

The tall, black haired man who had spoken gave no sign of displeasure at her tone. Instead, he smiled warmly at her. “It is good to see you again.” 

“Skerret.” the corners of Torana’s mouth twitched into a brief smile. Skerret’s long grey coat ruffled gently in the wind. His friendly face and heavy frame always reminded her of a cheerful uncle.

Skerret leaned on his cane with his free hand as he always did, fishing a handkerchief from within his coat to mop his brow against the heat of the day. Torana did not rise to greet him. “Thank you for coming.” she said, kicking the chair opposite her from under the table. “Have a seat.” 

“Don’t mind if I do.” Skerret replied “A beautiful day, isn’t it? If not for this heat, anyway.” 

“Perhaps if you didn’t insist on wearing so many layers.” Torana raised an eyebrow. 

“Nonsense.” Skerret laughed “One must keep up a certain pretence of wealth, no?” he waved over a server and ordered a drink before sitting heavily on the offered chair. Leaning his cane against the table, he turned to the quiet Osran. “Who’s your friend, eh? Perhaps some new bit of fancy?” 

Torana sighed and rolled her eyes “This is Osran. Despite the apparent ease with which he becomes embarrassed, he’s been accompanying me for the last couple of weeks. He’s in my employ.” 

Skerret beamed at the flushed young man “So that’s it, eh? Well, each to their own. Perhaps she’ll fall for your charms yet. Eh, my boy?” 

“Skerret, can we please get down to business?” Torana interrupted before he could harass Osran further. “Do you have the documents?” 

Skerret settled back in his chair. “But of course,” he purred. “I do, however, have a proposal for you.” 

Torana frowned “Proposal?” the server returned and placed a glass of white wine in front of Skerret, which he picked up and swirled before him. 

“Yes. Two weeks ago I hired a man to collect a package for me from Lirrel, a town to the north of here.” Skerret sipped his wine and smacked his lips “The fellow returned, but without my package. He claims he was assaulted by wild animals or some such nonsense. In his flailing escape, he dropped my package and fled town when I demanded he retrieve it without payment.” Skerret’s tone became bitter over the course of telling his tale. 

“So you want me to retrieve the package?” 

“That I do.” Skerret had returned to his previously jovial manner. 

“What’s on it for me?” Torana asked, ever the skeptic. 

“I won’t charge you for my services.” 

Torana paused. True, she’d rather not have to pay the near extortionate cost that Skerret was charging her, but these things seldom came without a catch. “Did he say what it was that attacked him?” She asked, probing for the loose end that would allow her to peel away the mystery.

“The way he tells it, it was a large dog or something. Possibly a bear. The man was barely coherent long enough for me to get a straight story out of him.” Skerret grumbled. 

“Right.” Torana mused “What about the package? How will I find it if it’s just been dumped in the wilderness?”

“Ah,” Skerret smiled knowingly, “That won’t be a problem for someone of your talents.”

Osran spoke up “What does he mean by that, Tor?”

Shooting him a glance, she replied “He means there’s something magical in the package, or at least an aura’s been put on it. Is that right?”

“Got it in one!” Skerret slapped his hands together in delight. “Always a clever girl. It’s no wonder you became so adept at all this magery business.”

Torana’s eyes quickly flashed around the room “Keep it down, Skerret. No one needs to know who I am.”

“No, no. Quite right.” He held his hands up in apology. “So, will you do it?”

Torana’s jaw worked as she thought through the possibilities, she’d never had reason to doubt Skerret before, and mages weren’t exactly common enough to hire. “How long should it take?”

“Oh, just the evening I’d warrant.” draining the last of his glass, Skerret set it down delicately on the table. “You won’t need to spend the night on the road.”

Torana nodded. “Fine. I’ll leave once we’re done here. I assume I’m to bring the package to your workshop once I’m back.”

“I would be indebted to you.” Skerret gave an elaborate half bow from his seat.

---

Torana double-checked the daggers hidden about her person, making sure each could be drawn smoothly, “I’ll be fine on my own, Os’. You’ll just get in my way at this point. Stay here and enjoy the sights while I’m gone.” 

The room they had rented for the night was simple yet comfortable. Osran sat on one of two threadbare beds with his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees. “It’s pretty enough, Tor’,” He sighed. “But what am I supposed to do for the hours you’re gone?”

“Take a leaf out of my book,” Torana threw a small purse to the bed. It jingled lightly as it landed next to Osran. “Drink.”

“Maybe I’ll just take in the town,” He lifted the purse and tucked it into his jacket nevertheless. “I’m just not sure I’ll fit in.” 

Torana looked up from her ministrations “What do you mean? You know how to be around these people.”

“I know how to serve them, Tor’. Not mingle with them, chat with them. It’ll be pretty obvious I don’t belong.”

Torana seemed to soften slightly, “I’m sorry, Os’. I don’t want you to come with me and have things go badly. If you’re here and something happens to me, you can still take the money to Skerret and get away. You can even sell the stone if you need to.”

“Alright,” Osran sighed. “And you’re sure you can trust him?”

“Skerret? About as much as I can trust anyone. There’s a profit in it for him, so I reckon that’ll keep him straight. Plus, he knows what I’ll do to him if he doesn’t behave,” She shot Osran a devious smile. “He’s a professional. He’s been forging documents for years.”

Osran’s brow remained furrowed, but he let the matter drop. Torana finished the last of her checks, strapping a row of small vials to her hip, and turned to him. “I’ll likely be a few hours. I’ll meet you back here when I’m done. Try to enjoy yourself.” Osran nodded, and she headed out into the night.

---

The cool night air rolled over Torana as she left the inn and headed North through the Canopy. The locals had begun to gather for their evening’s entertainment, and small crowds were beginning to form in front of several restaurants and bars.

The white plastered buildings shone a deep, golden yellow in the light of the gas lamps. Light-colored flowers splashed spots of colour on dark patches of vines that climbed the trellises attached to many of the buildings.

Soon, she crossed the river into the area of town known as The Hook. Here, heavily laden flat-bottomed boats were used to trade wine along the Berkobell itself.

Though it was quiet this late in the evening, the sunrise would reveal a swarm of activity as labourers loaded and unloaded the precious cargo. The North bank of the Berkobell was given over to the homes of those men and women who worked the vineyards.

Though the homes here were more simple than those on the South bank, the nightlife was more energetic and boisterous. Torana wended her way through the streets taking in the sounds of the workers. Their music and laughter brought a smile to her lips. Their freedom is hard-earned, but perhaps that makes it all the sweeter, She thought to herself as she made for the North gate.

---

Osran left the inn soon after Torana. He noticed the milling crowds of richly-dressed people, chatting to themselves in quiet contentment, no doubt heading to indulge in a carefree evening of fine food and drink.

Looking around, he sighed. Might as well find a way to pass the time, He thought. Picking a direction at random, he began to walk along the decorated streets.

He sullenly considered his conversation with Torana. Since agreeing to travel with her, he’d come to appreciate just how capable she was and how little she truly needed him. A fact of which she often seemed eager to remind him.

They had been traveling together for nearly two months now. Always trying to outrun their pursuers since leaving the estate of Torana’s father. He knew she appreciated his company, but wished he could be of more direct use.

The town’s nightlife was in full swing. Many of the wealthy-looking people crowded the bars and restaurants along the street down which Osran walked.

He was used to their kind. As a former servant to Torana’s father, he had been taught how to interact with people like these in an obsequious manner. To be seen but not heard, to be ever-present and attend to their whims without being obtrusive.

He scowled to himself. If nothing else, life on the road with Torana had taught him a servile life was not one he wanted. He approached a group at random and began to gently negotiate his way to the bar, squeezing between the unmoving forms of the other clientele as he did so.

Finding the ornate wooden counter, he attempted to make eye contact with the woman behind it. The tall, slender woman had her work cut out for her fielding calls from other customers who were more prepared to be louder and more aggressive than Osran.

He cursed inwardly, scorning Torana for leaving him here when something caught his eye. Further down the bar, he noticed the familiar figure of Skerret, leaning on his cane and conversing with another man who was obscured by the crowd. Perhaps he could find some company after all.

Osran struggled through the crowd, apologising profusely as he jostled and jolted the other customers. Emerging from behind two particularly indignant patrons, he saw that Skerret and his acquaintance had moved. Looking around, he spied them heading towards the exit of the bar. Gritting his teeth, Osran dived back into the crowd to follow.

Out on the street, Osran breathed deeply in the cool, fresh air. The stuffy closeness of the bar behind him. He saw Skerret a few metres ahead of him. In the improved light, he took in the sight of his companion. The man was of a slight build, but perhaps slightly larger than Osran himself. His light hair trailed down his back over a deep green cloak.

Osran increased his pace to catch up with them, opening his mouth to call a greeting. As he did so, the man placed an arm on Skerret’s shoulder and laughed as they shared a joke. Revealing a crest on the man’s shoulder as the cloak fell away. Osran stopped. The emblem was that of sunburst atop an open book. The emblem of Torana’s father.

---

Torana had been traveling north for close to an hour now, guided by the light of her flaming torch. With each passing minute, she became more irritable. Skerret said I’d be able to find the blasted package, She grumbled. Surely its residue hasn’t faded this quickly.

For what seemed like the hundredth time since she had left Kirsterren, she closed her eyes and concentrated. Opening herself up to magical vibrations as she had been taught by her master, she sought out the slightest ripple in the air to pinpoint the aura.

There was something. Something faint. She concentrated harder, fighting to block out the sound of the wind in the trees and the feeling of it on her skin. Yes, there it is. The package was either possessed of a very faint magical aura, or it was further away than she wanted it to be, but she had a direction. She strode towards the package with renewed vigor. 

Soon Torana was forced to leave the road. Attuning Entropy, she extinguished the flame of her torch, drawing out the last of its heat. A simple piece of magic, almost akin to merely opening a small hole to that particular Rhoki. Barely worth conscious effort at her level of mastery.  

After stashing the torch at her belt, she concentrated, attuning herself to the Rhoki of Light. Her pupils widened to twice their normal size, greatly increasing her sensitivity to light.

The environment, lit only by the pale moon, immediately brightened to her, outlining everything in clear detail. Torana began to pick her way through the undergrowth towards the pulsating magical beacon.

---

With the road fading from sight behind her, she crested the rise of a hill. The package was close by. The land before her dipped sharply into a natural depression cluttered by fallen trees and twisted branches. Amongst the fallen vegetation lay the package. Unseen, but unmistakable. 

Torana looked around near the spot where she could feel the aura and found a small clear area that looked suitable. Releasing Light, her pupils returned to normal and the world dimmed along with it.

Now, she attuned two of the Rhoki. Firstly, Stone for fortitude. Speaking the words under her breath, she shaped the energy into her legs, fortifying them in preparation for her next attunement. Fire, for strength. 

Though the channeling took only a few seconds, the effort brought small beads of sweat to her brow in the cool night air. Body modification magic was complex, and the larger the area of the body you affected, the more difficult the shaping of the planar energies became.

Once the modification was complete, Torana kicked out her legs to acclimatise to their new power. When satisfied, she jumped, launching herself across the depression to come crashing down in the small clearing.

A flock of birds leapt into the sky at the noise, calling their alarm into the night. Torana ignored them, striding instead to the package, lifting some fallen debris to find the small, brown paper package lying in the dirt. Smiling to herself, she lifted the package and turned it over in her hands. This better be something important, she thought.

Still holding Fire and Stone, she gathered herself once more. Torana leapt into the air back towards the ledge from which she had first come. From the darkness, a voice called “Now!” as the stochastic snap of bowstrings cut through the night.

Pain blossomed in Torana’s calf, causing her to lose her grasp on the strengthening energies. At the end of her arc, she hit the ground hard, rolling over the uneven earth before coming to rest in a tangle of vegetation.

A moment passed as she lay there, dazed before snapping herself back into focus. She was under attack. Listening for the sound of approaching feet, she pulled the arrowhead from her leg and attuned Life to stem the bleeding.

Fortunately, her attunement to Stone had prevented the worst of the damage. Gingerly, she stood. Testing that her leg could still support her weight, she ran her hand along the vials at her hip, Still intact, thank Nishtae. Closing her eyes, she steadied her breathing and listened, trying to pick out any sounds that would betray her attackers.

She attuned Fire once again. Easy spells, quick casts. She thought. The creaking of a bow being pulled to her right alerted her to the presence of her first assailant.

With a burst of speed, Torana ran towards the sound, conjuring small balls of flames around her as she did so, illuminating the figure in front of her. The bow held by her opponent swayed as they stepped back. Torana sent the flames streaking ahead of her, causing the man to dive to the floor. Torana leapt as she drew knives from within her cloak, landing close to the attacker, and stabbing down into his arm. Amateur.

Snatching her assailants’ bow, and arrows from their quiver, Torana attuned to another aspect of Life. Quickly and quietly, she shaped the energy into the surrounding foliage. The brambles and vines slithered to life, moving to tether her opponent, securing him to the ground. With that, she moved softly away, leaving the bleeding man moaning in the embrace of the earth. 

---

Osran paused, shocked by the sight of the crest. He slowed his pace and quietly followed Skerret and his companion. Still laughing, they rounded a corner and entered a short alleyway. As they turned the corner, Osran was able to catch a glimpse of Skerret’s companion. It was a face he knew from his time serving Torana’s father. Pedrik, Captain of Duke Garon’s guard.

Osran sidled up to the corner the two men had rounded moments before. No building in the Canopy could be called old or unkempt, but the partially hidden location and resulting lack of light illuminating the front of the property lent it an unsettlingly clandestine feel in the otherwise jovial district. Osran checked they had entered the property before he followed. quickly glancing behind him to ensure he was unseen.

The door was simple enough, wood painted white after the fashion he had seen in the rest of the town. Osran put his ear to the smooth surface but could make out only mumbling coming from inside.

Looking about, he could see no other way to access the property from the narrow alleyway, so he returned to the street. There, he quickly deduced he could climb onto the balcony by using one of the vine-covered trellises attached to the wall here. But what to do about being seen?

Osran quickly but calmly approached the closest crowd of patrons as they laughed and drank, enjoying the pleasant evening. Selecting a likely target, a stuffy-looking older man, he coughed politely to gain his attention. Then twice more.

“Yes, what is it?” the frustrated gentleman demanded after the third cough. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“Begging your pardon, Lord,“ Osran bowed his head and averted his eyes. “I’ve been asked to give you a message.”

“Yes, well what is it? You dull-witted barrel bung.” Osran clenched his teeth, hoping his lowered head sufficiently hid his grimace.

“I was asked to inform you that the workers have broken into the storehouse and are helping themselves, my Lord.”

“By Hesh’s bountiful buds!” The man cried, drawing the attention all around him. “The reserves!” 

Osran slipped into the crowd as the commotion increased in volume, quickly scaling the trellis to the balcony. Quietly, he approached the shuttered windows, sure to watch his step.

He reached out his hand to peel the shutters back when suddenly, they began to open of their own accord. Osran threw himself against the wall behind him. The wood of the shutter came dangerously close to hitting him, surely giving away his presence to whoever was now looking outwards.

Moments passed as Osran struggled to control his breathing before the shutters closed once more. Letting out a sigh of relief, he returned to the task at hand, opening the shutters as much as he dared to peer inside.

The form of Pedrik shouted back into the building, “It’s just the locals causing a ruckus.” as he retreated down the stairs to the ground floor. Osran waited momentarily before slipping inside.

The room he entered was as ill-kept as the building’s exterior. Cupboards and surfaces, though expensive-looking, were laden with dust. The floor clearly showed the recent passage of the man.

Osran gently tested the floorboards with his foot, seeking out treacherous squeaks and squeals that would announce his presence. Slowly, he made his way to the stairs.

Peering down to the first floor, Osran could see the warm glow of a lantern falling against the plain white wall of the room. A shadow paced along the surface as the voice Pedrik spoke once more, “You’ve done well, Skerret. The Duke will be pleased.”

Osran, moving down the wooden staircase as quietly as he dared, heard Skerret’s now-familiar laugh “But of course. Anything for my Lord. Though I do hope he recalls our agreement regarding financial compensation.”

“You’ll get your money,” the guardsman scoffed, clearly finding the request distasteful. “once we have the girl in our possession.” 

“Very good, very good,” Skerret said brightly. “I’m sure my men have the matter under control.” 

Pedrik snorted derisively “I certainly hope they do. Torana has proved quite the nuisance thus far, and the Duke grows weary of the expense.” 

Osran gripped the wood of the banister tightly, stifling his gasp. He knew Skerret couldn’t be trusted. Plans wheeled around his head. He needed to get to Tor’.

He fought to control his haste, reversing up the stairs with excruciating slowness. Reaching the landing, he turned, trying to trace his way back through the dust to the window, his breathing growing heavier in his panic.

Closer, he edged until his nerves got the better of him. Increasing his pace, he tripped, catching the edge of a rug with his foot. The stumble was brief but significant. His other foot slammed to the floor as he corrected himself. 

Immediately he heard an exclamation from downstairs followed by the sound of boots on wood approaching rapidly. Osran dived for the shutters, throwing them open with the great clatter.

Reaching the trellis, he began to climb down as a head thrust itself out of the window, looking about before locking steely eyes with Osran.

“Stop!” Pedrik called as Osran let go and dropped the remaining distance to the street below. 

---

Torana fought to keep her breathing under control. The healing and growth magic had strained her. She knew she didn’t have the capacity left for anything complex without the energy affecting her adversely.

She had been following the second of her assailants for some minutes now. Following behind at a short distance, she took some grim pleasure in their obliviousness.

A quick tap into Light had allowed her to change the hue of her cloak from a rich blue to a deep grey, helping her blend in with the shadows. 

The woman in front of her picked carefully through the undergrowth, one hand on her bow, the other on the hilt of her sword. After a few moments, another figure approached through the gloom.

Torana crouched, keeping still as the two hailed each other. “Any sign of her?” the newcomer asked.

“None,” the woman replied. “Nothing from Keer either.”

Her partner grunted. “I saw lights flash near where she landed. No sign of either of them when I got there.”

“Skerret won’t be pleased.” The pair had turned and were now walking further away from the road once more. 

“There are worse things than Skerret,” Torana resumed following, trying to stay in earshot. “We’ll do another sweep before we head back. The girl could give herself away doing something flashy again.”

“What’s worse than not getting paid?” the woman asked.

Her companion glanced at her “Word is, the money’s coming from someone else.”

“Who?”

“Word is, it’s some Southern Duke. Garon or something. Supposedly the girl’s his daughter.”

Torana froze. 

The woman whistled in surprise. “Must want her back badly to go to all this trouble.”

“Enough to pick her up in person if what I’ve heard is true.”

“Wait,” the woman stopped, Torana tensed, preparing to attune herself to the Rhoki. “Why would Skerret tell us to shoot at her if her Da wants her back?” 

“He knew she could take it,” her partner shrugged. “or didn’t mind if she came back slightly damaged. Come on, we’d better get a move on.” The pair picked up their pace and strode off into the night.

Torana stood, turning over what she had learned in her head. Skerret had betrayed her and to her father of all people.

She flushed with anger. She was running out of people she could trust. A thought struck her. Os‘. If Skerret found him by himself, he could be in danger. Worse still if her father did.

Torana assessed the situation. She needed to return to town fast. Clenching her fists in frustration, she took a deep breath. Nishtae, give me strength.

She focused, attuning Lightning, and shaping the power into her legs. Synapses fired faster and faster as she began to run, her legs pumping with incredible speed. Grimacing with effort, robes whipping around her, Torana reached the road and raced towards town.

---

Osran ran through the streets, the light from the oil lamps shedding a greasy yellow light on the cobbles. He headed North towards the Hook, desperate to reach Torana and warn her of her father’s arrival.

Close behind, he could hear the crowd expressing their displeasure once more as his pursuer closed in on him. The further he ran, the more he realised the benefit of the training Torana put herself through each day. His lungs burned, and his thighs ached, but he pushed onwards.

Reaching the bridge to the Hook, he risked a glance behind him. Pedrik was closer than he thought, only a few steps away from him. The realisation caused Osran to misstep, tripping over his own feet as he clattered to the ground.

He rolled briefly before coming to a crumpled, groaning heap. The man who had been chasing him stopped, breathing heavily. Grabbing him by the front of his shirt, he pulled Osran partway off the ground.

“Osran Melgrave. I had a feeling I’d run into you once we’d cornered the Duke’s daughter.”

“Leave her alone, Pedrik,” Osran growled. “She’s done nothing to deserve this.”

“That’s not how the Duke sees it, and I am sworn to obey. As were you, if I recall correctly.”

Pedrik let go with his right hand and punched Osran in his stomach, knocking the breath from him. Osran fell limp and was promptly dropped to the floor where he curled around his pain. “I imagine she’ll be all the easier to trap if we have her little friend as bait.”

Osran wheezed a laugh “You don’t know Tor’.”

Pedrik sneered, pulling back his leg to strike once more when Osran heard the small sound of breaking glass. The blow never came.

Osran looked up to see Pedrik covered in some sort of oily fluid. “What in the Lacuna is this?” he tried to brush the viscous liquid from his sleeve, sniffing what was on his fingertips. His eyes went wide “Is this Ignium?” he exclaimed.

“Yes, it is, Pedrik,” Osran contorted himself at the sound of Torana’s voice. He saw her standing a few paces away, looking pale in the light of the lamps.

She was breathing heavily, and even from here, Osran could see she looked gaunt and strained. She had passed her threshold, he thought. Drawn too deeply of the Rhoki.

“Tor’,” He called out as best he could, still feeling the effects of his beating.

“Quiet, Osran,” Torana hissed. “Step away, Pedrik.” She held up an arm, her fingers pointed towards him.

“You look tired, Lady Harrow,” Pedrik did not move from beside Osran, but gave a predatory grin. “Surely you cannot afford to spend more energy.”

“I’ve enough to light you up, Pedrik. Step away.” Torana produced a spark of flame at the end of her fingers.

“But surely you wouldn’t –” Pedrik was cut off by the flash of flame rapidly approaching him. He dived to one side to avoid it. 

“The next one won’t miss,” Torana threatened. “Go. Tell my father. By the time you’ve reached him, I’ll be gone. If he doesn’t stop coming for me I’ll have to take more direct action against him.

Pedrik grimaced but rose to his feet once more. With one final glance at Osran, he turned and hurried back into town, leaving the pair alone. Once he was out of sight, Osran looked to Torana, who met his eyes and smiled briefly before collapsing to the ground.

---

The world ached. Torana tensed her muscles as she became aware of her consciousness. Testing each section of her body by gently tensing her muscles, she could feel the fatigue deep within her. The tissues of her thighs protested every command from her brain.

Slowly, she released her breath and opened her eyes. She was in the room she had been renting with Osran. Without moving her head, she glanced to the side. Sure enough, Osran was there. His head lay slumped on the writing desk as his chest rose and fell. Struggling, she managed to sit up, the noise stirring the man from his sleep.

“Tor’?” he mumbled as he stirred. “You’re alright.” His sigh of relief seemed as if it had been held for days.

Torana smiled weakly, “Did you bring me back here?”

“I did,” Osran sat up and nodded. “It was really the least I could do after you saved me again.” Moving over to the bed, he sat next to her. “How are you feeling?”

“Like an Initiate who’s overextended themselves. Everything hurts. How do I look?”

“Younger than you did last night,” Osran picked up a hand mirror from a side table and handed it to her.

Torana looked at her reflection and sighed, “Well, it could be worse. I think I’ll be alright in a couple of days.”

The face that looked back at her possessed a greater number of lines than she was used to. The bags under her eyes and the slight mottling of her skin provided her with a glimpse into her future. “Wait,” her head snapped towards Osran. “Last night? What time is it?”

Osran looked uncomfortable “It’s morning. You’ve been asleep for a good while.”

The sheets flew back as Torana swung her legs out of bed, forcing Osran to stand. “We need to go,” She said quickly. “My Father will be bringing his men and-”

Osran placed his hand on her shoulder and with a pained expression, gestured towards the window with the other. Legs protesting, Torana found her feet and gingerly walked to the window. She could feel her strength slowly returning, but it would be a long time yet. 

Slowly, she moved aside the blue curtain just enough to peer outside. From their room, armoured men could clearly be seen marching through town flying her Father’s colours as a light drizzle fell over them.

“I see,” Torana clenched her fist, pulling the fabric taut. “Well, let’s be about it then.” Dropping the curtain, she turned to face the door.

“Wait,” Osran caught her arm. He could see the tension in her stance and the anger in her eyes. “I think we can still get out. We just need to get the papers from Skerret’s place, and make it to the boat.”

“If he even has them and if we can even get there, Os’,” Torana sounded exasperated. “The town is crawling with people who know our faces.”

“My face, perhaps.”

Torana ran her fingers down her cheek, “Well, now,” She smiled. “Who’d have thought there’d be an upside to this?”

---

Dressed in clothing liberated from the room of another patron at the inn, hoods up against the rain, Torana and Osran walked arm in arm towards the richer part of town. The density of her father’s guards had not made the trip easy so far. Osran had occasionally received an elbow to his ribs as he was unexpectedly pushed into a side street, having to stifle his alarm each time. 

Skerret’s workshop, such as it was, was situated in the basement of his lavish home. Torana had been here once before when commissioning the forged identity papers. Timing it carefully to avoid any patrolling guardsmen, Torana and Osran crossed the square to the front of Skerret’s home. slipping quietly through the gardens, they used the large, beautifully manicured topiary to mask their approach. 

The two-story building loomed over them in the dreary rain, a balcony on the upper level providing them some relief from the drizzle. “The documents will most likely be in the workshop. If he’s even made them at all. Either way, I’m going to burn the place once we’re done.” Torana’s eyes were hard under her hood.

“Tor’, that will bring everyone towards us. We still need to get out of town.” Osran met her gaze and she let out a quiet, but exasperated sigh.

“Fine,” She said pointedly. “But I’m keeping the option open.” Osran nodded, knowing it was best not to push the matter any further. Torana led them around the perimeter of the house, using the elaborate shrubbery to help mask their passing once more.

At the back of the property, they approached a basement window, peeking out above the lawn. Torana drew tools from the inside of her belt. “Keep a lookout” She instructed.

Osran put his back to the brickwork, trying to peek around the corner without exposing himself too much. In moments, Osran heard a small pop as the window was forcibly opened. Turning, he was beckoned back to the window by Torana, who promptly ducked inside. 

The workshop was dark. The oil lamps set into the walls were unlit, and very little sunlight made it through the one window. Keeping low, the pair moved around the two workbenches, softly stepping along the stone floor, scattered with paper and smudges of ink.

Atop these benches sat many sheaves of paper, many of which contained identities and pasts both stolen and fabricated. One of the benches held two small boxes with a glass lens on one side. To their right, wooden shelves lined the walls containing sheaf after sheaf of documents. To their left, stone stairs lead upwards to the ground floor. “Tor’,” Osran whispered. “What are we looking for?”

Torana paused for a moment before replying, “The documents will have our faces on them, but they’ll only show up using these.” She retrieved one of the small boxes from the bench, holding it up, she depressed a small section on the opposite side to the lens. As she did so, the box began emitting a pale green light.

“Scryer’s lamps,” She extinguished the light and tossed the box to Osran before retrieving the other lamp for herself. “It’s why I had to pay so much. We wouldn’t get far without it.” With that, they promptly set about searching through the stacks of documents, passing over each one with the eerie green glow of the Scryer’s lamps.

Before long, Osran had found the documents buried amongst the other papers on the shelves. “Looks like he’d finished them before your Father got to him.” Osran’s relief was evident. “Let’s go. We can lay low in the Hook before the boat arrives.”

Torana nodded and they made for the window. Osran carefully folded the documents, tucking them away inside his jacket. After clambering out onto the lawn, he turned and reached back to help Torana through. As he did so, the noise of someone shouting reached their ears.

“Tell the Duke I will visit him shortly, but I am not responsible for his daughter escaping him once again.” Quickly followed by the slamming of a door.

Osran saw Torana’s face harden in the gloom of the workshop. “Tor’-” He began.

“Sorry, Os’,” Torana raised her hood. “Wait for me in the Hook.” She turned, disappearing back into the workshop.

---

At the top of the stairs, Torana found a sturdy wooden door. Pressing her ear against it, she could hear Skerret’s voice ranting and grumbling, punctuated by the occasional slamming of furniture. Cautiously, with knife in hand, she opened to door and peeked through the small opening.

The room beyond spoke to the forger’s wealth. The floors were covered in rich carpets and strewn with plumply upholstered furniture. With no sign of the owner, she stepped out into the room, using the carpet to help conceal her footsteps.

She found Skerret at the end of a trail of shunted and toppled furniture, staring out of the front window of his property. He was breathing heavily and clutching the window frame in a white-knuckled grasp, the other hand on his cane.

“Nice of you to save me the trouble of finding you,” Torana spoke calmly and clearly.

Skerret tensed. “I should have realised you’d come here,” He turned to face her. “But you’ll not get out alive. Your Father has men posted all over town. He knows about the boat as well. Killing me will achieve nothing.”

Torana brandished the knife in front of her, “Who said anything about killing you?” she asked. “You can’t feel pain when you’re dead.”

The large man pressed himself against the wall as if he hoped he could escape through it, “Torana… Let’s be reasonable.” He was fighting to control his voice, “I have your papers ready. Perhaps I could give them to you and help you escape.”

“Osran already has the papers,” She stated flatly. “Clearly my Father has only recently gotten to you.”

Skerret’s face sank with the realisation he was out of resources with which to bargain. “He came to me only last week,” He uttered the words so softly that Torana could barely hear them. “He came as a Father wanting his wayward Daughter returned to him.”

“He came with a fat purse.”

Skerret looked away, “Yes.”

The young mage paced across the room. Skerret shied away as her arm went back, closing his eyes to hide from the sight of his end.

“Tor’,” Osran grabbed her arm before she could swing.

“Let go, Osran,” In her normal state, she could easily have pulled herself free. Even so, Osran still struggled to hold her, weakened as she was.

“No,” He replied. “Killing him does nothing but make you more like him.”

Torana stopped struggling. She turned to face Osran, his eyes full of pleading and concern. Closing her eyes, she breathed out slowly. Through clenched teeth, she spoke, “Skerret, Osran, and I will be leaving now. If I ever see you again, I will not be kept from exacting the full fury of the Void upon you. Am I understood?”

The forger nodded. He skirted the wall to fall heavily into one of the chairs that had remained upright. “Good,” Torana shook Osran’s hand free of her arm. “Let’s go.”

---

The pair left Skerret’s estate through the front door. The rain was now coming down heavier than it had been previously and they made their way back to the bridge, crossing the Berkobell to the Hook.

“Do you think he’ll be waiting for us?” Osran asked, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the rain.

“Of course he will,” Torana glanced sideways as she replied. “He knows that’s how we’re leaving.”

“So how are we getting past him?” 

“We’re not,” Torana smiled grimly inside of her hood. “We’re going through him. I’ve had enough of running, Os’. He needs to understand he can’t take me back.” She stopped and looked him in the eye, “With me?”

Osran nodded, “Of course.”

---

The Hook looked even drearier under the wet, grey sky. Rivulets of water flowed over partially collapsed ceilings and sloshed into muddy puddles before finding their way across the cobbles to the Berkobell.

Still, the labourers toiled, hauling crates and barrels onto gently bobbing cargo ships, their hair and clothes plastered to their hard faces and bodies. From the bridge, the pair needed to descend down several staircases to reach the docks. From their vantage point, they could clearly see a cadre of people vigilantly waiting near the edge of the quay.

Together, they made their way down past the warehouses and mouldering buildings, emerging onto a wide, paved area bustling with activity.

Torana approached the stoic gathering of armoured individuals, the emblem of her father’s house now clearly visible on their chests. She stood several paces from them and removed her hood. “Father,” she called into the rain.

From within the armoured crowd emerged a man in finery wholly out of place in the Hook. A thick, gold chain lay about his broad shoulders, and the crushed velvet of his cape ran stripes of green and black down his back. Either side of him, a servant held an oilskin attached to a framework, protecting the Duke from the worst of the downpour. To his right, Pedrik stood scowling, a face to match the dour weather.

“Ah, daughter,” The Duke’s voice was deep and resonant, only mildly afflicted by age. “It is about time you arrived. Come, we leave immediately.”

“How are you yet to understand that I am not coming back with you?” Torana practically vibrated with anger. “Was this farcical chase not evidence enough?”

“I can only be pushed so far, daughter,” The Duke’s voice was soft, yet concealed a core of iron. “You have had your fun. Now it is time to return home and do your duty.” He spoke with supreme confidence. It seemed that, to him, there was no doubt that his commands would be obeyed.

“Father, this is the final time I will say this to you. I am not returning with you to be married off to some minor noble as if I were goods for you to barter. My life is my own, and I will not have it be dictated to me by some archaic tradition of subservience.” Torana fought to control her voice. This conversation had happened once before, in her father’s study on the night she left. It had been raining then too.

“Insolent girl!” Pedrik barked. “ You dare speak to your father in such a way?”

The Duke held out an arm, “Enough, Pedrik. She will learn what happens when I am displeased.”

A knife seemed to materialise within Torana’s hand, “I think you’ll find we’re very alike in that regard, father.” She turned her head slightly, “I’d step back if I were you, Os.” He seemed to hesitate but gave a curt nod, retreating to what he judged to be a safe distance.

The Duke’s men drew their swords at the sight of the knife, keen to protect their Lord and confident in their superior numbers. The Duke sighed “If this is how you would have it. Very well.” With a casual flick of his wrist, he gestured towards the girl, “Bring her to me.”

The guardsmen charged. Torana breathed in deeply, gauging how much power she could reasonably draw without doing further damage to herself. Gripping the handle of her knife, she attuned Lightning for speed and dashed forward.

She flashed between the guardsmen, slashing and stabbing before they could react. Almost as a group, they fell, leaving Torana breathing heavily amidst the groaning and the blood. 

The Duke grunted, “Perhaps I should have kept you on a shorter leash.” He stepped forwards, waving away his attendants. Torana dashed towards him, relying on adrenaline and rage alone to fuel her. Leaping, she brandished the knife towards her father, a cry of anguish ripping from her throat.

A wave of concussive force hit her before she could land, sending her sprawling across the rain-slicked cobbles and knocking the knife from her hand. She sat up, glaring her surprise at her father.

“That’s right, child,” he smirked. “had you not considered the possibility that I too had access to this power?” She looked again, calming herself to pay attention. Then she saw it, the rain bending around him.

Not a drop dampening his clothing. A simple spell, but proof that he could also attune the Rhoki. How had he hidden that all these years? The mage pushed herself to her feet, her hand moving to her hip in a protective motion.

The Duke’s smile deepened as he noticed, “If that was enough to injure you, daughter, I am truly surprised the men I hired had such trouble bringing you to me.” He held out a hand, “Now, come.”

Torana bared her teeth in response. “Surprise is something you should get used to.” Her hand flashed out as she attuned Air, whipping the vial of ignium across the space between them, lending it speed with a burst of pressure.

No sooner had it left her hand than she changed Rhoki and launched a small ball of flame after the flammable liquid. The slipstream of concentrated air ignited, flashing towards the vessel. It exploded on contact, mere inches from her father.

Torana dived to the side as, for an instant, the dockside was engulfed in heat and light. Screams erupted as bystanders either fled or redoubled their efforts to ready their boats for departure.

---

Osran shielded his eyes against the explosion. The intense heat washed over him, but as quickly as the fire had come, it was gone. He squinted across the dock to where the Duke stood stony-faced. He was completely unharmed, but his hair now lay plastered to his skull, his finery dampened by the rain. Osran smiled grimly, Torana had done enough to make him switch his attention to protect himself and extinguish the flames.

He scanned the dockside, looking for a sign of his friend. Instead, he found Pedrik advancing on him with his sword drawn. “I have had just about enough of the both of you.” The guardsman scowled as he quickly covered the distance between them. 

Osran felt panic rise in his chest. Unarmed and facing a trained opponent, he felt he had little chance. Over Pedrik’s shoulder, he saw Torana lunge at her father from behind a towering stack of barrels, only to be rebuffed once more by his magic. He was on his own.

“Do you think what the Duke is doing is right, Pedrik?” Osran backed away slowly. “Chasing his daughter across the country just to drag her back and marry her off to leverage some trade agreement?”

“What our Lord does is no business of mine,” his pace increased as his scowl deepened. “nor is it any business of yours.” Osran managed to dodge away as the first swing came, the blade missing him by mere inches.

“He is no longer my Lord,” Osran spat the title in open disgust. Manoeuvring himself to keep Torana in sight over Perdrik’s shoulder, narrowly avoiding another swipe of the sword.

---

Torana grunted against the pain. Her whole body felt like one big bruise. In her fatigue, she was unable to draw on the power she required to beat her father but was succeeding in making him agitated. His spells had grown more offensive, launching blasts of fire and lightning in amongst the waves of force used to push her away. She glanced again to where Osran flailed around, barely dodging the slashes and thrusts of Pedrik’s blade. 

“Stand still!” the Duke roared as he fired off another volley of fire. Torana leapt away, leaving it to fizzle out against the damp cobbles. 

“You never could stand to be disobeyed,” Torana forced amusement into her voice despite feeling none of it. “Always accusing people of behaving like children while imitating one yourself.”

“Be quiet!” another yell cut through the sound of the rain. “You have pushed me too far this time, Torana. Can you not see that by marring you to someone worthy, I can ensure you live out your days in comfort and safety?”

“For the final time, father,” Torana stood firm. “I shall determine how I live my life.” She attuned Light, sending out a blinding flash which caused the Duke to stagger backwards, covering his eyes in shock.

He blinked away the haze to find Torana standing beside a fallen Osran. “You ungrateful wretch!” he cried, letting loose ribbons of lightning which arced through the rain and into the young woman’s body.

Pedrik’s armour clattered on the cobbles as he hit the floor. Torana emerged from her hiding place behind stacks of cargo. Releasing her hold on the Rhoki of Light, she restored Pedrik to his original appearance. A bitter smile quickly vanished when she saw the blood marring Osran’s face.

“Torana,” The Duke called with a threatening hiss, raising his hand towards Osran. “Your tricks will only get you so far. Return with me, or I will kill your companion.”

Torana gritted her teeth and clenched her fist around the hilt of her dagger. She fought to keep her head above the wave of hopelessness that now washed over her. She had been so sure she could win this, but she had already drawn on the Rhoki enough to harm herself permanently, and no time to get between them. 

She let the blade clatter to the stone. Her breathing was laboured, and the colour had gone from her face. She felt like every movement was an immense effort. “Just let me say goodbye.”

The Duke nodded. “Do not tarry.” He stated flatly.

Torana walked to Osran and, struggling between them, helped him to stand. The slick stone made for treacherous footing. “I’m sorry, Tor’.” He whispered as they came face to face.

“Never apologise to me Osran,” Torana blinked away the tears forming in her eyes. “I’d not have gotten this far if it wasn’t for you.” She reached for the Rhoki of Life, intent on healing Osran’s wounds before she left.

Tears welled in her eyes as no energy came. This was it. She had drawn too much and was now unable to do even this for him. She made to embrace him, but Osran held her away with one hand and held out the other between them. Confused and now more upset that he would spurn her affection at this moment, she gently took it.

In that grasp, she found hope.

---

The Duke observed the display with little interest. He watched calmly as Torana turned from the boy and sullenly walked towards him, her hair and robes dripping in the rain. He put his arm around her as she approached in a rare display of paternal warmth. “Come, daughter. We will return and make you presentable for your suitors once more.”

At the feeling of pressure at his side, he looked down. Torana had pressed the point of a knife to his waist. She raised her head, her lined, fatigued face looking closer in age to his own than it should. 

“No.”

The Duke regained his composure and sighed deeply, “Torana, if I have to render you insensate, then I will.” He attuned the Rhoki of Air. Discovering nothing in the place where the raging, blustery well of power should be. His eyes went wide, and Torana grinned wickedly.

She held up her other hand, holding the pink, spiked crystal of nulshard between thumb and forefinger. “You’re only gift to me,” She said softly.

The Duke’s arm snapped out to try and take the ‘shard, but the knife had already sunk into his side. Torana pushed him onto his back as he let out a short cry of pain and surprise. “Daughter, Torana,” he babbled. “Please, killing me will achieve nothing.”

Torana stood over him and looked towards Pedrik, who was even now struggling to his feet. “I’m hearing that a lot today. You’ll be fine,” she stated. “I just need to make sure you can’t stop me from leaving.” She knelt and forced the Duke’s hands away from his side with one hand. While, with the other, she pushed the nulshard into the wound she had created, drawing forth a scream of pain from her father.

“I’ll be going now, father,” She stared into his red, pain-filled eyes. “Do not follow me again.” She stood, beckoning to Osran with a blood-soaked hand.

The Duke lay clutching his side as the rain ran down his face. He watched his daughter approach the boy and wrap him in a shaky embrace. Together, they boarded the ship, never once looking back at him.

The sound of Pedrik’s shuffling feet caught his attention, and soon the guard was helping him to stand. 

“My Lord, what are your orders?” Pedrik’s voice, usually so strong and confident, was laced with the strain of his injuries.

“Let her go, Pedrik,” The Duke replied, groaning against his own pain as he did so. “She’s become more trouble than she’s worth.”

---

“So, where to next, ‘Tor?” Osran leant on the railing, looking down on the Berkobell as it flowed gently beneath the boat. The rain had stopped, and the pair were now trying to dry themselves in the light of the afternoon sun.

“Somewhere I can get a decent change of clothes.” smiled Torana. “Verine, Volgorne, I’d even take Ketrek. Somewhere we can just get lost in the crowds.” The mage had her eyes fixed on the horizon. The countryside stretched out before her promising a plethora of new lives ripe for her to experience.

She looked down at her hands, wrinkled and paper-thin. It would take a few days to see the real damage she had done to herself. A few days for the fatigue and pain to pass.

“What about your father?” Osran saw her smile falter at the question.

“If he comes, he comes,” Torana shrugged. “I think I’ve given him several reasons not to, at least.” Her silvered hair caught the breeze as she turned to Osran, “Thank you, by the way. I told you the shard would come in handy.”

Osran could see she was becoming melancholy, “Yes, well. Perhaps if you’d made use of it before rushing in knives drawn, it would have made things a little easier.”

Torana’s face hardened, “I saved your life, you ungrateful little-“

Osran quickly dodged Torana’s playful slap. He laughed as he ran astern, dodging past the crew as he was chased by the noise of Torana’s protests. Though he couldn’t predict what lay ahead for either of them, as they floated towards the next stage of their lives, he knew that they were both closer than ever to the thing they both so badly desired.

To be free.

The End