Chapter 5: Beneath the Moonlight

Author's Notes: For my older readers: This is an edited/re-written version of this chapter.

Through the window, flashes of lightning tore across the sky. The storm the spirits had spoken of had come at last. Hugo stayed low and kept his eyes on the window as he explained: "I thought I saw something move outside. Then there was a glint of light on something metallic. I wasn't sure, but…" He shrugged. "Guess my gut feeling was right."

"Thank the Goddess," Chris said. "Do you suppose it is some sort of runic weapon?"

"Could be a bloody dragon for all I know. Let's get out of here."

"A dragon?" Chris whispered as she crawled towards him. "I do not find that likely. A dragon would have—"

The whole building shook as something massive struck the wall outside. A wave of heat swept into the room, along with burning bits of debris. Plaster fell in sheets from the inside walls.

Hugo threw up his arms to shield his eyes from the glare of the flame. "Would've what? Breathed fire?"

Chris's face was pale, but she managed a disapproving frown. "Do not be absurd. A far more likely explanation—"

"Oh, a Fire Rune? Yeah, I got it." He snapped his fingers. "Come, captain. We're leaving."

"On that, I agree."

Fire took root in the timbers as Hugo stumbled past debris towards the door. Behind him, Chris struggled along in his wake, noisily. Reaching the door, he tore it open and threw himself out onto the wet grass. Another loud CRACK rang out, and something whistled past his ears, striking the turf. He rolled onto his side and glanced up to find the building lit up like a torch. Chris launched herself out of the house behind him. He took her hand and pulled her along, and the two of them scrambled around the corner of the nearest house and sank down behind cover. More of the loud cracks followed them.

"Whatever that weapon is, it's gotta need reloading," he said hopefully. "Right?"

Chris breathed heavily. "Let us pray you are right." She looked at him, and he looked back. They both nodded.

"Go," Hugo said.

They ran.

Chris's heart beat like a drum in her chest. She ran on instinct, leading Hugo along a twisting path through the village. The only thing that mattered was to stay out of sight of their unseen assailants. Fortunately, she had been to Tarnay on many occasions, and knew the layout of the village well.

Chris had another advantage over their pursuers. Whoever had branded Hugo and her with the Hunter Runes would assume their prey did not know how the rune worked. It was not much of an advantage, considering the odds stacked against them, but it was something.

Another CRACK rang out behind them, and Chris gave a start as wood splintered in the side of the nearest building. A shot had punched a hole straight through the wooden boards. And it had come not from behind, but from the side.

"They are flanking us!" she shouted. She twisted on her heel, took Hugo's arm, and pulled him through the door to the house.

The room inside was a mess. Blood had pooled around three slumped bodies on the floor, making the floor around the cracked dinner table slippery. Swallowing hard, Chris surveyed the room and found a staircase in the opposite corner.

"We can't hide in here," Hugo said.

"We cannot hide anywhere," she retorted. "The stairs. Come!"

She took the twisting staircase in five tall strides. The stairs rattled as Hugo followed.

"What do you mean, anywhere?" he growled.

"The runes," she said, breathing hard. "I will explain later." They emerged into the upstairs room and looked around. The violence had not reached to the second floor of the building, and the beds placed around the walls were still made, waiting to be used. Rubbing at her temples, Chris turned to Hugo. "How skilled are you with that Wind Rune?"

"Good enough." He narrowed his eyes. "What are you planning?"

Chris pressed up against the wall beside the window, and peered through. "Good enough to break a person's fall?"

"Depends on the fall," he said. The confusion in his voice was resolving into something approximating understanding. "You're thinking of jumping?"

"There is a smaller house beside this one. It is a slight leap, but for someone who but recently scaled one of Brass Castle's towers, it should be of little consequence." She braced herself against the windowsill. "Ready?"

Hugo raised his hand, and a warm green glow rose around his fingers as he awakened the Wind Rune. He nodded. Chris drew a deep breath and launched herself out the window. At first, she was falling like a stone, and the ground rushed up to meet her. Then she felt a force buoying her, lifting her up. Cradled by Hugo's wind magic, she was still falling, but now she drifted like a feather. Her feet struck the clay-tiled roof of the neighboring house without so much as jarring her.

As Chris rose on shaky feet, she heard the tiles clatter behind her. She turned to see Hugo rise onto his feet and shake out his limbs. The boy looked entirely unperturbed by the leap. Did he even use the rune to slow his fall? she wondered.

They huddled low on the side of the roof that faced away from the window they had leapt from. For a moment, they stayed like that to catch their breath. Chris stared back the way they had come, wondering where Borus, Roland, Leo, and Percival might be, and what they might be doing.

"We cannot stay for long," Chris said. "The hunters will find us."

Hugo pulled out his dagger and fiddled with it. "We should set an ambush. Draw them in, then strike from behind."

"No. Our hunters cannot be surprised. We have to keeping moving."

"Our friends are in danger," Hugo said, hotly. "We can't just leave them!"

"Our friends are safe," she said, hoping the conviction in her voice was merited. Goddess, let them be alright, she prayed. "The hunters will follow us. They have marked us with the Hunter Rune, and they will not abandon the hunt. We must draw them away from the village."

Hugo hesitated, but finally nodded. "You got something in mind?"

"Once we are on the ground, we make a dash for Zexen Forest. It is our best chance." She pointed to the woods, and tried to tell herself that the hundred or so yards between the village and the trees was not so long a distance to cover.

The gave her an appraising, head-to-toe look. "Your armor," he said. "You'll have to take it off. You can't run fast enough in that, and you'll make more noise than a boar in mating season once we're in the woods."

She was about to protest, but clamped her mouth shut when she realized the boy was right. "Fine. Help me undo the straps." He looked confused, and opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, but she did not wait for him to find his words. She turned around to expose the straps and buckles of the back and shoulder plates, and started on the chest plate in the meantime. Hugo's hands explored the unfamiliar fastenings, inexpertly twisting and tightening where he should be unclasping and releasing. She tried to instruct him as best as she could, and eventually the boy got it right. The plate armor fell away, revealing the padded shirt and supple leather trousers she wore beneath. She turned to face Hugo.

"You have your work cut out for you if you ever wish to become a squire," she teased.

He grunted. "Wasn't counting on it." He stalked over to the edge of the roof and looked down. "Need another boost?"

"Please," she said. Waiting for him to awaken his rune and give a nod, Chris took two long strides over the wet tiles and leaped off the roof. Once again, she felt the wind magic catch and lift her, and she drifted to the grass. A moment later, Hugo landed beside her, apparently eschewing the use of the rune altogether. Chris eyed him curiously. She was beginning to think the boy's story of climbing the side of the tower was true, after all.

They ran for the woods.

Hugo sprinted for the tree line. He felt exposed, expecting to hear the crack of the hunters' weapons at any moment and feel a terrible pain in his back. At first, he pumped his legs as hard as he could, but by the time they were halfway to the trees, he realized he was outpacing the knight by a lot. Chris was in good condition, and she ran at a steady clip, breathing evenly, but she was no sprinter. He slowed his step just enough to stay ahead of her without outpacing her.

Fear gripped Hugo's heart. The brand on his bicep throbbed painfully, but he wasn't sure if it was his mind playing tricks on him. His instincts told him the hunters would never find them in the woods, but Chris's ominous words about the Hunter Rune had him questioning his judgment. He had to admit, the hunters did have an uncanny knack for tracking them.

They were almost to the tree line when Hugo heard a loud crack from somewhere behind, and then almost the same instant, a whistling sound followed by a sharp pain in the side of his leg. The pain drove him to his knee and he slipped, his jaw striking muddy grass.

"Hugo!" Chris called out.

Sprawled in the mud, Hugo fought off a wave of panic. He flexed his leg and felt relieved to find it responding. A glancing blow, only, thank the spirits. He tried to push himself up from the ground, but his hands slipped in the wet mud. Then Chris was there. She hooked her hand under his elbow and pulled, and tugged him to his feet. Hugo regarded the knight with new eyes as they resumed their run. She's stronger than she looks, he thought.

Another pair of cracks rang out between the lightning strikes, but this time, the shots whistled wide. Moments later, Hugo and Chris passed beneath Zexen Forest's shadowed boughs. There they stopped for a moment to catch their breath.

"We have to keep going," Chris said between rasping breaths.

"Right," Hugo said, leaning against a tree trunk and staring up at the canopy. He could see patches of the night sky through branches swaying in the storm. Above the trees, dark clouds cut big slices out of the glowing full moon. In all the excitement, he hadn't noticed the moonrise.

"Let us move," Chris said, beckoning towards the interior of the woods.

Hugo pushed away from the tree trunk. "Take my hand," he said, holding it out. "It's gonna get tricky from hereon out." She eyed him critically for a moment, as if searching out some devious plot, before slipping her damp hand into his.

The forest was dark, and the undergrowth treacherous. With only patches of pale moonlight to guide their step, they had to go slow. Hugo went first, guiding Chris by the hand. Slowly, his eyes adjusted to the gloom, and he picked his way over roots and stones, up and down steep slopes and over dry riverbeds. As they went, he instructed her on where to place her feet, pointing out solid ground and warning her of slippery surfaces or exposed roots that might snag her boots.

His leg hurt with every step, but he'd been right in his assessment: it was a glancing blow, nothing serious. It wasn't enough worth awakening the Wind Rune for.

Fear was his constant companion. At any moment he thought the hunters might break from the bushes and deliver swift death with their strange weapons. And the forest had its own specters and wraiths. Shapes that would've looked entirely benign in daylight took on sinister meaning in the darkness. Tree trunks, mossy rocks, and fallen logs rose up in the deep gloom, resembling hulking creatures, shifting people, or terrible monsters. Every now and then, lightning burst, illuminating these hideous shapes and hinting at terrible thinks lurking between them. The rain fell in sheets around them, making its way through gaps in the canopy.

He relaxed his grip on Chris's hand, thinking he might have been hurting her. But when he did, the knight squeezed harder, as if resisting the release. Hugo felt somehow grateful for her presence. It was a comfort not to be alone in this place.

He wasn't sure how far they traveled or how much time passed, but eventually they came upon a small clearing at the bottom of a slope. Pale silver moonlight illuminated a circle of trees in which heavy rain pelted a mossy boulder shooting up from the forest floor. The boulder was the size of a small house, and on one side, part of the rock projected out to form a narrow shelter beneath its overhang.

Hugo pulled her into the shelter, and they crouched there, catching their breath, happy to be out of the rain for the time being. "Okay… We could probably rest here for a while."

Though she looked to be on the point of exhaustion, Chris shook her head. "No. We have to keep moving."

"Why? What are you not telling me?"

She touched his arm where the mark from the rune was. "The brands. They are made by something called a Hunter Rune."

"I never heard of such a rune…"

"They are rare. Exceedingly rare. The Hunter Rune's brand allows the rune-bearer to know the exact location of the marked prey, no matter the distance and no matter what obstacles lie between. At least, that is what Naomassa's Encyclopedia of the Lesser Runes says…"

Hugo wrinkled his brow in confusion. "Nao… who says?"

"It is a book. A collection of knowledge," she explained. "I have read about the Hunter Rune, but never seen it myself before today."

Hugo considered this, trying to put it into familiar terms. "A traveling merchant once showed me this marvelous device called a 'compass'. He said sailors use it to navigate. He said no matter where you go in the world, the needle will always point in the same direction. Are you saying the Hunter Rune is a 'compass' that points to us?"

"More or less. You should also know that a Hunter Rune can only mark one target at the same time."

"Meaning, there's at least two rune-bearers after us. Got it."

"Correct." Chris frowned, hesitating before adding: "You should also know that the rune-bearer can sense all physical pain endured by its prey, and…"

"And?"

She let out a heavy breath. "And the hunter is filled with a 'bestial urge to kill' that will not abate until the prey is dead."

Hugo stared at her. "Great. Should we start digging our graves, then?"

She sighed. "I had something a bit less fatalistic in mind."

"Can the rune be defeated somehow?"

"The book mentioned no such flaw."

Hugo slapped the damp moss in frustration. Chris gave a start, and her lips twisted with disapproval, but she said nothing. Hugo considered the facts, and tried to think of a solution. "We can't hide. We can run all we want, but it won't matter one bit, unless we can reach a safe place."

"Vinay, perhaps," Chris said. "But we will not make it there on foot before we exhaust ourselves. And that is if the hunters do not find us first."

The lizard clan's Great Hollow would make the perfect hiding spot, but that's not an option either. I'd die before I bring the captain of the knights into our people's secret passages.

Chris was silent for a time, and her face slowly released its tension. When she turned to face him again, the knight looked as calm as the blank sheet of lake. "Here is what we will do. You will keep running. I will stay here and face our assailants. With some luck, I will be able to slow them, perhaps even dispatch one of them, and allow you to escape."

"Stop," Hugo said. He placed his hand on her shoulder. "Don't insult me. You're not a fool, so don't start acting like one now. I'm a Karayan warrior. I'm not gonna leave you here to die while I run away."

She frowned. "But—"

"No. We leave here alive, or we die here together." He hoped his eyes held more conviction than he felt in his heart. A plan was taking root in his mind; a plan as horrifying as it was clever. His heart was racing so hard, he thought he might faint. But somehow, Chris bought it. The knight nodded slowly, and put her hand on his shoulder.

"Together, then."

With trembling fingers, Hugo drew his dagger. Chris looked at him in confusion. "What are you doing?"

"I thought of a weakness of the Hunter Rune," he said. "Sorry, but this is the only way."

Chris cried out in shock as he brought the blade down.

Squire Class Gunner Jorac gasped as a sudden stab of pain rocked his body. He staggered to his knees in the undergrowth, twigs and branches raking his face.

"What's wrong?" Petrob called out. His partner slid to a stop beside him, and helped him up.

"Pain…" Jorac said. The word came out a hoarse croak. He got back onto his feet. Sickly sweet pain. Yes, my prey, bleed. Lie there, wallow in your fear, await the hand that kills. Jorac's chest swelled. His blood boiled with the thrill of the hunt. He cradled his rifle. These two had given a better hunt than most, but all things must come to an end. The Howling Voice Guild could not be denied. "My prey is incapacitated," he said.

Petrob frowned as he extended his senses through the Hunter Rune. After a moment, he said: "Mine's still on the move."

Lightning flashed in bright spiderwebs in the sky above the forest canopy. Jorac slowed his breathing, pulling his hood back to feel the rain on his cheeks. The Hunter Rune on the back of his right hand pulsed with reddish-brown light. He could feel the rune's hunger infecting him, elevating his senses, driving his mind towards a crescendo that would turn to euphoria when the kill was made.

"The prey is still alive," Jorac said, "But not for long. After a wound like that…"

Petrob grunted. "Their alliance didn't last for long."

"Small wonder. These people are hereditary enemies."

After marking their targets in the village, Jorac and Petrob had systematically hunted the pair between the houses, staying in cover and using the Fire Rune to draw them out from their hiding spots. The pagans had proved to be surprisingly resourceful, somehow staying one step ahead at every turn. But if they thought escaping into the forest would keep them safe, they were sorely mistaken.

Jorac and Petrob followed without any great hurry. Patience was key in any hunt. It took enormous reserves of self-control for Jorac to ignore the bloodlust that coursed through his veins. For this very reason, the rune was never given to Apprentice Class Gunners, who couldn't be trusted to exercise such restraint.

"Let's split up," Jorac suggested. "We can't allow either of them to escape. Follow your prey. I will finish mine, then find you." Petrob nodded, and they separated.

Following the blazing trail between the Hunter Rune and its mark, Jorac emerged into a clearing washed in silver moonlight. A giant, mossy boulder rested in the center of that ring of trees, and at the base of the rock lay his quarry.

His quarry did not move, nor made any sound. Jorac approached slowly, rifle steadied against his shoulder. Bloodlust pounded in his ears, threatening to overtake him. He wanted to run to his prey, leap on it, sink his teeth into its flesh, and rip its throat out. It was said the Hunter Rune was a child of the Beast Rune, the True Rune of all things wild and savage, and Jorac could believe that. Only with an enormous effort of self-control was he able to resist the the rune's impulse.

"Windmitfahrer," he whispered, invoking the name of his rifle. "Now we honor our ancient oath. The blood of the faithless, once spilled, will water the tree of eternity. All shall become one with the Circle Rune. As it was written, so it will be, by the will of the Perpetuator – may he be eternal."

Jorac was right on top of his prey when the body stirred. Jorac squeezed the trigger, but something lashed out and struck his leg, and he lost his balance. The shot rang out into the night as Jorac fell to the ground. The back of his head struck stone, and his vision swam with stars. The rifle fell out of his hands.

The last thing he heard was a young man's voice. "I'm sorry," his prey said. "You gave me no choice." Then cold steel bit into his throat, and a lifetime of pain and ambition abruptly ended.

Jorac had become one with the Circle Rune.

Fear and anger waged a battle for control of Chris's mind as she stumbled through the woods. Fear for herself, but mostly for Hugo. Anger for what he had done, and for what she had failed to prevent.

Without warning, Hugo had plunged his weapon into his own chest. His aim had been true: he had struck a place between his vitals, where the weapon would do the least damage, but the wound was still grievous.

The shock had stunned Chris for a moment, but as the boy staggered and fell, she had caught him and eased him onto the ground. She had awakened the Water Rune on instinct and poured every bit of healing power she could muster into the boy's body. It would have to be enough. He had been breathing evenly when she left him, drifting in and out of consciousness. She prayed he would recover in time to do what had to be done.

She ran from the clearing, resolving to put as much ground between herself and Hugo as possible. She did not wish to leave him, but Hugo's impulsive act had forced her hand. She had no choice but to go along with his plan now.

Goddess, why did I not see it coming? It made a perverse sense, in hindsight. Foolish, irresponsible, and utterly infuriating, but logical. Curse that stubborn boy!

Without Hugo to guide her, the forest took on an even more terrifying aspect. Every root tried to snag her feet, every stone threatened to send her to the ground, and every branch wanted to slap her cheeks and tear her skin. She stumbled often, and fell several times. The cold and pain numbed her hands and feet. Her clothes were soaked through and her hair was plastered to her face, and she could not longer tell what was rainwater, sweat, or blood. She had never been this tired in her whole life.

Chris was making her way across a narrow streambed strewn with pebbles and rocks when she heard the loud crack in the distance. She stopped short, flinching as if struck. Hugo, she thought. Goddess, let him be alright.

It was time to turn back. With numb fingers, she gripped the hilt of her sword and circled back towards the way she had come.

She did not have to go far before a loud crack rang out, terrifyingly close. The bark split on the tree beside her head. Chris ducked down behind the largest tree trunk nearby, and drew her sword from its sheath.

Another shot rang out, and pieces of bark exploded nearby. He is circling around. Trying to find a better angle. Holding her breath, Chris listened for sounds of movement in the rain, and waited.

Pain lanced through Hugo's chest as he pushed onto his feet. Every part of his body that wasn't afire with pain was numb. His knees trembled as he stumbled over to the corpse at his feet.

Spirits, I killed someone. I killed another person. Hugo thought he'd be sick. He'd always known that as a warrior, there would come a day when he would have to take another man's life, but that knowledge had always been couched in the understanding that it would happen in a context of honor and glory – on the battlefield, or in the dueling circle of the sharikee. This felt neither glorious nor honorable. Only necessary.

An orange glow peeked out from beneath the sleeve of the stranger's cloak. Kneeling beside him, Hugo gently shifted the cloth to uncover the glowing Hunter Rune. On the death of its bearer, the rune had separated from the dead man's skin and now floated in its rune crystal an inch above the back of his hand. Hugo reached out to snatch up the rune. The shell of the rune crystal felt warm to the touch, and the pale light made shadows of the deep calluses of his hand.

Pocketing the rune, Hugo stretched across the dead man and lifted the strange weapon lying at his side. He turned the weapon over in his hands, trying to make sense of it. It had a wooden stock, larger at one end, tapering at the other. Metal components were integrated into the body, seemingly at random along its length, though Hugo suspected there was some very precise meaning to their individual placement. He knew the weapon must be similar in concept to a crossbow or a bow, but he could not understand how the weapon worked, or even what it fired.

I'd be just as likely to hurt myself as whoever I tried turning the weapon on, he admitted. Guess it won't be any use against the other guy. Still, Hugo picked the weapon up by its leather strap and slung it over his shoulder. Bile rising in his throat as he worked, he turned the dead man over and pulled the drab gray cloak from his back. The cloak's material had somehow been treated with oil to reject the rain. He traded his own brown cloak for the dead man's, and set off to find Chris.

She'd better not have gotten herself killed yet.

Chris crouched in the hollow formed by the trunks of a pair of tall oaks, sheltered by bushes all around her. Her mind raced with possibilities. Did the hunter circle around? No, I would have heard him move. Unless he timed his movements with the thunder. The darkness was on her side: with dawn still hours off, the deep gloom of the forest made it hard for her assailant to pick her out from her cover. Still, as long as the Hunter Rune's mark was on her flesh, he could wait forever. And she knew one thing was true: the hunter was a patient man.

Nearby, a plant crunched beneath a boot. Chris froze, tensing her grip on her sword as she listened. The footsteps continued towards her hiding place. She shifted position and peered past the tree trunk.

At first, she saw nothing. But then the moonlight spilled through a gap in the canopy, and the silver light glinted off of something moving in the undergrowth. She saw a hint of a shoulder, with something metallic peeking up above it.

The hunter, she thought. But how did he find his way around to this spot? I should have heard him…

A sudden horrifying feeling seized her heart. The other hunter. The one who had gone after Hugo. If the man had overpowered the barbarian boy, he would be coming from this direction. And that meant… A wave of sorrow and anger gripped her.

As the man drew closer, she began to hear his breathing over the rain. Chris rose to her feet and tensed. She waited until the man drew even with the tree she was leaning against. When she saw the man's foot press down upon the moss right beside her, she sprang to her feet, grabbed his arm, and yanked down with all her strength. The man gave a surprised yelp and went down on the mossy ground on his back. Chris mounted him, leaned her hand on his shoulder to pin him, and raised her sword to strike.

A flash of lightning vanquished the shadows for a moment, and Chris found herself staring down at a familiar face.

"It's you!" she said, just as booming thunder drowned the words coming out of her mouth. Wide-eyed, the boy looked up at her and let out a strangled laugh.

"You're alive," he said.

"For now," she said, rolling off of him. As he sat up, she studied the gray cloak that sheathed his body and the strange object slung over his shoulder. "The other hunter?"

Hugo nodded. "Dead."

"Mine is nearby. Watching."

"I'll root him out," the boy said. He put a finger to his lips as if to call her to silence, then pulled out his dagger, grinned, and skulked off through the undergrowth.

Chris counted a hundred heartbeats before she made her move. Staying low to the ground, she leaped from hiding place and ran. A sharp crack rose above the drumming rainfall, and a shot whistled past her back. She rolled across a knot of knobby roots to reach the cover behind another tree.

A moment passed, and then, on the other side of the tree, a branch snapped. A man yelled – Hugo or the hunter, she could not say. Bushes rustled and twigs cracked, and two voices grunted with effort.

Goddess, protect me, Chris prayed, then bolted from the tree trunk towards the sound. As she approached, a flash of lightning revealed two forms wrestling among the bushes. She could not say who had the upper hand, and was not sure they knew, either. As she charged towards them, she raised her sword.

A low branch she had not spotted snagged her knee. She tumbled head over heels, slamming down hard on her back. The roots she landed on drove the wind from her. For a moment, she lay there, groaning, gasping for breath. Slowly she got up, and felt for her sword. She could hear the two men struggling, sounds like growling animals as they sought to suffocate each other. Finally, her fingers closed around the hilt of her sword. She set off towards them.

One of the figures tore himself away from the other, and swung his fist. The backhand blow struck the other man's head and knocked him to the ground. The scuttled back, stood, and raised his strange weapon.

The sight of the weapon was all the confirmation Chris needed. Her sword rose in an arc, slapping the weapon's wooden stock up. As the hunter fired, the shot flew wide. The hunter turned towards her, grasping for a short sword hanging from his hip. He was fast, but not fast enough. Chris swung again, and the hunter fell, a deep gash opening in his throat.

Chris trembled with exhaustion. Finally, the rain was starting to let up. Her weak knees buckled, and she sat down in the bushes. Her sword fell from her hand. She crawled over to where Hugo lay, and inspected the boy. The hunter's blow had knocked him out cold, but she could see no bleeding or signs of serious injury. Just to be sure, she awakened the Water Rune and funneled healing into the boy's skull, searching for damage to repair. Then, she called upon the last of her strength to suck the moisture from their drenched clothes and damp hair. She adjusted Hugo's cloak to cover them both, and lay down beside him.

She was asleep before her head hit the ground.

The sun stood high in the sky when Sarah stepped into the Council Hall, wearing another man's skin. The servants, scribes, and notaries that bustled around the ground floor offices of the expansive administrative building would not see a young woman with white hair, but instead the illusion she had woven around her: a hard-eyed career soldier with gray touching black hair at the temples, wearing an orange tabard slashed with an officer's rank over plate armor. Except to touch and smell, the illusion was perfect.

The Council Hall's oak-walled vestibule was lavishly decorated with expensive tapestries and rugs from faraway lands, landscapes and portraits by master painters, Falenan porcelain, and Harmonian crystal. The central chamber was appointed with great attention in order to strike the right impression upon those who set foot within: Zexen was rich, Vinay was richer… and the Council was richest of all.

It all stank of greed and arrogance to Sarah.

Servants and officials bowed their heads as she – Captain Harke, as the man was called – passed by. She had selected the form especially for the occasion, having spied the imposing soldier leading a patrol down by the docks earlier that morning. A man like Captain Harke would not find many doors barred to him in the capital. As she had expected, the guards stationed outside the door to the council chamber did not try to stop him as he pulled open the door and stepped inside. The councilors were seated around a long table, poring over sheafs of paper. All eyes turned on Sarah as she entered.

"Captain Harke," said Head Councilor Rean. "I'm sure you have a good explanation for this unannounced intrusion."

With a snap of her fingers, Sarah broke the illusion. Gasps of shock resounded through the room. She allowed the men a few moments to compose themselves, then stepped forward and tapped her staff against the floor.

"I am called Sarah," she said. "I am a messenger from the Holy Kingdom of Harmonia."