Estimating the weight of the Hall of Knowledge’s entry doors was harder than with any of the interior doors. The entry doors were much heavier, of course, but the ageing frame constricted their movement, making them feel heavier to move than they really were. Or perhaps they were just made with a particularly heavy kind of wood. Meleng wasn’t sure which. It was probably a combination of both.

“We are exposed here,” Jorvan said. “You should hurry up.”

Meleng gulped, took a quick guess, and almost started tracing the equations. If he overestimated a little, it wouldn’t matter much. It would just make the doors get a little more stuck, which was exactly what he was after anyway. However, if he overestimated too much, he might break the frame and walls surrounding the doors, causing the doors to fall right off—and that would be a disaster.

He sighed, then reminded himself these kinds of situations were all about estimation anyway. Close was all that was needed, and he’d done this sort of thing before. He could do it again.

He started tracing the equations, making sure to include a connector to the equations he’d already traced on the dragon gargoyle.

“Any word of Nin-Akna?” Jorvan asked.

Meleng shook his head. Just what had Akna been thinking? She hadn’t been thinking, he reminded himself. Sinitïa should have thought better though. Then again, Akna had simply played on Sinitïa’s desire to help everyone. Even if Sinitïa had refused to help, Akna would have still found a way away from her and Corvinian. The real question was, how had she managed to get out of the building unseen? These doors and the steps were very exposed and had been constantly watched.

Oh well, Akna could take care of herself. She would be fine. He had to believe that.

He finished the equations on the left door and moved straight over to the right. He took a quick glance below as he worked.

The Bloods and soldiers had set up at the base of the steps. Feviona, who had been flying above the city on patrol had spotted them coming well before they’d arrived, and Jorvan had covered the steps with a thick coating of slick ice that formed a flat, slanted plane. The soldiers were now preparing grapples and picks to try to make their way up the slope. A few held bows and were watching Meleng and Jorvan at the top, but they weren’t firing at them. They’d tried that once a few minutes ago, and Jorvan had simply blown the arrows off course.

Now he’d calculated the equations, tracing them onto the second door went much more quickly than the first. As soon as he was done, he nodded to Jorvan, and stepped inside the doors.

Jorvan spread his wings and flew off to join Feviona on patrol. Meleng watched him for a moment, wishing events didn’t keep requiring Jorvan to use his wings. The injured wing was still not fully healed. Jorvan was doing his best to avoid anything strenuous, but the need for speed getting here had meant he hadn’t been able to rest much on the journey here, and now they were here, they were caught up in this power struggle.

Once Jorvan was high up, well beyond the range of any of the soldiers’ bows, Meleng pulled the doors of the Hall of Knowledge closed. He gave a thumbs-up to Angelida and the team of wizards manning the barricades—he hadn’t caught any of the others’ names—then traced connector equations onto the inside of the doors. He made his way along the perimeter of the inside wall, past the barricades, to the door to the lower levels. He would remain there for now. If Jorvan and Feviona came inside, Meleng would then activate the equations from here, bringing the gargoyle down and jamming the main doors.

With luck, the Bloods and soldiers wouldn’t even make it to the doors, let alone past them. Getting up to the doors would leave them vulnerable to attack from Jorvan and Feviona. Their only real hope would be to tire the two Isyar out, and Meleng couldn’t think of an easy way for them to do that, short of bringing in siege weaponry.

Maybe this was why the Hall’s entrance was in such a hard-to-reach place. Meleng made a mental note to look up whether the Hall of Knowledge had ever had to withstand a siege before.

There was one other variable he was neglecting to think of, though. No one knew whether Plavistalorik was still working for the new Lord; nothing had been heard of her. However, if she was, she might be able to face off against Jorvan and Feviona. No one here was sure just how powerful she was. Surely she wasn’t as powerful as Mikranasta though. But Mikranasta was hidden somewhere inside the building and would only enter the battle if the Bloods got inside.

Meleng traced additional equations onto the door to the lower levels, then stood back and waited.

Ages passed.

He found himself fighting to keep awake. Pedrin brought him a chair at one point, but Meleng chose not to use it. He didn’t want to fall asleep.

Every now and then, there was a thud or bang from outside, but it always went quiet almost immediately afterwards. It was probably the Bloods making some sort of attempt to ascend and Jorvan or Feviona rebuffing them. They seemed to be very infrequent attempts, though. The Bloods were probably waiting until morning before making any serious attempts to ascend.

But morning was an eternity away.

Pedrin brought a blanket over eventually. “You should get some sleep. We’re taking shifts. Don’t worry; we’ll make sure you’re awake if anything happens.”

Meleng took the blanket without a word, and stared at it and the chair for a moment. Pedrin was right. He probably should get some sleep. But he didn’t want to dream right now. Sometimes, when waking from a dream, it was difficult to be sure he wasn’t still dreaming. Now was not a good time to be distracted in that way. Still, he also needed to be alert, and he couldn’t be alert if he was too tired.

He sat in the chair and wrapped the blanket around himself. He probably wouldn’t fall asleep anyway. A chair was hardly the ideal location for sleeping. He had to shift around quite a bit to get even a semblance of comfort. He was definitely tired, though. The events of the day had seen to that.

As sleep overtook him, his thoughts drifted back to their arrival in Quorge in the morning.

This whole conflict was their fault.

Well, not technically, but it was their fault it was happening now. They should have avoided the conflict at the docks.

Everything had been going so well. They had made great time from Isyaria, all the way down the east coast of Arnor to Dorg, then back north up the Tirin River to Lake Belone and then Quorge—all thanks to Jorvan providing them with the winds they needed, and a little good luck with the weather. Since they were docking and didn’t need the winds anymore, Jorvan went to rest in their cabin.

Meleng didn’t want to disturb him, so tried wandering elsewhere, but kept getting in the way of the crew. Eventually, Feviona flew them both out to the bowsprit, where they sat while the Lustrous Rose docked. It was a bit frightening at first—it was such a precarious position; a fall could mean death—but he soon grew to enjoy it. He wasn’t entirely sure how he kept his balance—Feviona had traced some equations onto the bowsprit, so maybe that had something to do with it—but he didn’t fall and the cold sea breeze was invigorating.

When the ship came to a full stop, Feviona put her arms around Meleng again, and flew them both onto the pier.

That had been their mistake.

It had drawn attention to them. Mikranasta even scolded Feviona later for it. If she hadn’t done that, they could have snuck into Quorge.

At first, it had been positive attention. People on the pier gawked, the way Arnorins tended to when they saw Isyar. But then, a man in pinkish armour, along with two local watchmen, approached them. Other people on the pier quickly moved out of the way of the men’s passage.

Meleng also backed aside to let them pass, but they stopped as they got close.

“State your business,” the man in the pink armour said. The man was either extremely brave or extremely foolish wearing such heavy armour so close to water he could easily drown in.

Meleng glanced briefly at Feviona before stepping forward. “Uh, we’re just passengers on the Lustrous Rose. Uh, that ship there.” He pointed behind him. “We just arrived.”

“We all saw you arrive.” The man had one hand on the hilt of his sword, and his other held a helmet at his side.

“We didn’t mean to cause a disturbance,” Meleng said. “Really, we were just...uh...we were sitting on the bowsprit and it was just easiest, I think, to fly onto the dock. That’s all.”

“I asked you to state your business.”

“Oh, we’re just here to…” How should he respond? Meleng was certain he ought to recognise the significance of the man’s armour, but he couldn’t place it. “We’re just visiting.”

The man scowled, and looked at Feviona. “And you?”

“Visiting, too,” Meleng said. “With me. And my friends.”

“I want him to answer.”

“Huh? Oh...uh...her. You want her to answer.”

The man’s scowl deepened.

“She doesn’t know the language,” Meleng said. “And she’s mute.”

“Mute?” The man laughed. “Aren’t Isyar supposed to be powerful wizards, but they can’t talk?”

“Look, we’ll just be on our way. We don’t want to cause any problems.”

“You’ll return to your ship and leave Quorge and Belone. Lord Belone has forbidden the entry of non-humans into the province.”

“He has?”

“That’s what I said.”

“But doesn’t he have an Isyar in his court?”

“She has special dispensation. Return to your ship and leave, or you will be placed under arrest.”

Almost everyone on the pier had backed well away from the armoured man and the two watchmen. Meleng glanced back at the ship. Even many of the crew there had stopped their work and were watching over the deck. The gangplank was still being lowered into place, though.

“Well?” the armoured man said.

“What is he saying?” Feviona signed.

“He wants us…” Meleng couldn’t remember how to sign leave. Feviona had been teaching him and Sinitïa on the journey from Isyaria, but it had only been a few weeks—barely more than a month—so he was far from fluent. Sinitïa was doing so much better. But she wasn’t here to help. Finally, it came to him. “He wants us to go.”

“What’s this nonsense?” The man let go of his sword and waved his hand around in front of him.

“It’s how she communicates,” Meleng said. “I told you, she’s mute.”

The man made a face and waved his hand around mockingly. “Get back to your ship!”

Meleng nodded, motioned to Feviona, and turned towards the ship.

“Wait!”

Meleng stopped and looked back.

The man pointed to Feviona. “We’ll need to confiscate the Isyar’s sword. Bearing weapons like that is illegal. Hand it over.”

Meleng turned to Feviona. “He wants you to…” He paused, trying to remember the right signs. “To give him your sword.” He merely pointed to her sword as he didn’t know the right sign.

“No!”

“She doesn’t want to. We’ll just go back to the ship.”

The man’s hand returned to his sword hilt. “Then we’ll take it.” He drew his sword.

Feviona turned to face the man. “Tell him if he…” something… “he will…” something.

Meleng grimaced. He didn’t need to know her exact words to know her meaning. “She really doesn’t want you to do that.”

“Arrest them both,” the man said.

The two watchmen hesitated.

“I said arrest them. Now!”

“But sir,” one said, “she’s...she’s an Isyar. They can do…”

The armoured man laughed. “Tricks, according to Commander Plavin. You have nothing to worry about. Now arrest them!”

“Sergeant! Sergeant!” Captain Gen came running up, Miana Ting right behind them. “Or is it Captain? Commander? I apologise. I don’t know your rank. I am Etiënne Gen, Captain of the Lustrous Rose. I can vouch for these two.”

Sinitïa, Jorvan, Mikranasta, and Hedromornasta were a short distance farther back, getting closer.

“These two are under arrest,” the man said. He looked at the two Watchmen, and when they continued to hesitate, he growled and rushed Feviona.

Feviona drew her sword, but the man stumbled, then collapsed. He yanked his helmet off and clawed at his face, screaming.

Feviona backed away, shaking her head. “Not me!”

“Hedromornasta!” Mikranasta snapped.

Hedromornasta said something in Isyarian, and Mikranasta responded harshly.

The armoured man no longer clawed at his face, but he was still screaming. Blood poured from his eyes, and Meleng felt as though he could be sick. Sinitïa had already turned away and was retching.

The two Watchmen stood staring silently. All around, people along the docks had stopped and were staring.

Then someone yelled. Then someone else. One of the Watchmen yelled out too, and they both drew their swords.

Feviona ran a finger along the flat of her blade. When the first Watchman came at her, her blade cut right through his, then knocked the other one’s out of his hands.

Both Watchmen turned and ran.

Other people on the docks ran too, some yelling, others screaming.

A horn blew somewhere.

“We should get out of here,” Jorvan said.

“How?” Sinitïa asked. “There are more coming.”

Farther down the pier, several Watchmen and a couple more of the knights with pinkish armour and red capes were pushing through the panicked crowds.

Mikranasta spoke to Jorvan in Isyarian.

Jorvan nodded. “Fevionawishtensen and I will carry you and Sinitïa away. Mikranasta and Hedromornasta will delay them. She promises Hedromornasta will not be so violent again.”

“What about Gen and the crew?” Meleng looked to the Captain.

“Don’t worry about us,” Gen said. “We’ll be fine.”

“They’ve stopped moving,” Sinitïa said.

Meleng looked back down the pier. Sure enough, the Watchmen and knights were standing still. A straggler from the almost vanished crowd pushed one of the knights, who fell over sideways like a statue, his limbs still rigid.

Jorvan placed a hand on Meleng’s shoulder. “Time to go.”

“Are you sure you’re up to flying with the extra weight?”

“I will carry Sinitïa. She is lighter than you.”

Feviona stood behind Meleng and hooked her arms under and around Meleng’s shoulders. Then they were away, cold air rushing against Meleng’s face. He had flown with Feviona earlier, but this time, they went much higher. Below, the docks, ships, and people were getting smaller and smaller. Meleng’s heart began pounding faster, and a wave of nausea washed over him. He clamped his eyes shut, which diminished the vertigo only a little. He clutched at Feviona’s arms and held on for dear life.

Sinitïa was laughing and squealing. “This is so much fun!”

There was a rumble, followed by a bang in the distance.

“What was that?” Meleng risked opening his eyes, but being able to see the entirety of the docks of Quorge beneath him him brought the vertigo right back. He fought to hold the bile back in his throat and clamped his eyes shut again.

Jorvan didn’t answer him—which wasn’t really surprising. The two Isyar could only fly so close together. It was likely Jorvan hadn’t heard the question, and Meleng was unwilling to let go of Feviona to sign the question to her. Besides, she would be unable to reply without letting go of him.

There were more rumbles and bangs beneath them.

Meleng risked another glimpse. It was a little better this time. Some of the buildings near the docks were on fire. Surely Mikranasta and Hedromornasta hadn’t done that? They were mentalists. Mentalists couldn’t burn buildings—not with magic anyway. But then, what was going on?

As Feviona flew higher, Meleng found it easier to keep his eyes open. The vertigo faded, perhaps because he was getting more used to it, or perhaps because everything below looked so small now as to be unreal. The cold wind was threatening to freeze his face though.

He and Feviona were in the lead, and it wasn’t easy to look behind. However, he did catch occasional glances of Jorvan and Sinitïa, and at one point, he was pretty sure he saw Mikranasta.

Then they reached the Hall of Knowledge in time to see Akna and Corvinian ascending the steps.

He really hoped Akna was all right. She could take care of herself—he knew that—except she wasn’t herself right now. He should have stayed with her.

A crash from outside woke him.

He threw the blanket aside, and jumped to his feet. He looked about, opening and closing his eyes, making certain he was really awake.

Nearby, Pedrin was rising from a blanket on the floor. The wizards at the barricades were standing alert.

“Something’s started outside,” Angelida called.

“Keep a close watch on the doors,” Pedrin said. “If the two Isyar enter, the enemy will likely be pursuing them. Let the Isyar get clear of the doors, then give the enemy everything you’ve got. I’ll go check with the lookout.” He turned to Meleng. “Be ready to activate your enchantments as soon as the Isyar are inside.”

Meleng nodded, and Pedrin took off through the interior door.

Meleng took a deep breath and stood by the door. At first, he held his finger out, ready to complete and activate the equations. His arm soon got tired though, so he lowered it and stood as relaxed as he could. He only needed to trace one quick character; it wasn’t like the half-second it took to move his arm would make a difference.

An eternity passed.

Sounds from outside came sporadically. Pedrin returned to report that the Bloods had brought in a ballista, but Jorvan had destroyed it. Jorvan was also making certain none of their grapples were staying connected long enough for anyone to climb up.

Another eternity passed. It was getting hard to stay awake. Even standing, Meleng found his eyes drifting closed and his head starting to loll on several occasions. It had to be getting close to morning by now. Maybe it was even morning already.

The door beside Meleng opened, and a teenage girl—an apprentice to one of the wizards guarding the next level down—dashed in. “They’ve broken in below!”

“What?” Meleng stammered.

Pedrin hurried over to them. “What do you mean they’ve broken in below?”

“They’ve broken in below,” the girl repeated.

Pedrin shook his head. “But there is no way in from below.”

The girl raised her hands. “We don’t understand either. But they’re in, and they’re coming up.”

Meleng’s heart dropped. Sinitïa was down there.

“Dear gods,” Pedrin muttered. He called out to the wizards at the barricades, who were already looking expectantly in his direction. “Someone inform Jorvan and Feviona.”

Meleng looked to the interior door while Pedrin started calling out several names. He reached for the handle.

Pedrin and three other wizards pushed past him.

“Let me come with you,” Meleng said.

Pedrin shook his head. “We still need you to activate your enchantments if they reach the doors.”

“But Sinitïa’s down there.”

“We’ll do our best to get to her, but we need you here.”

Meleng gritted his teeth and nodded. “Right, of course.”

Pedrin and the wizards headed through the door, followed by the girl who had brought the warning.

Meleng took several slow breaths, tried to stop the shivering overtaking his body. He almost wished this was a dream.

At the front of the hall, the doors were open a crack. Angelida’s young apprentice slipped back in, Feviona behind her. “Feviona’s going to help. Jorvan says he’ll handle the ones outside.”

“Good,” Angelida called back. “Get back into position, Feena.”

The girl pulled the main doors shut, and hurried back to Angelida’s side.

Feviona gave Meleng a smile as she reached him. “Don’t worry. I will protect her.” She passed through the door.

As the door swung closed again, Meleng reached out and blocked it. To hell with it. He had to check on Sinitïa. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Feviona. He did. He just needed to be sure.

It was unlikely the Bloods and soldiers outside would get up the steps anyway. Jorvan had the superior position and could handle them easily. Indeed, the fact they’d found some other way in meant those outside were just a distraction anyway. They knew they couldn’t get in.

Gods, he was probably putting everyone in the entrance hall at risk, but he had to do this.

He hesitated and looked back only once.

Feviona gave him a quick look and resigned smile.

“I have to,” he signed.

“I understand.”

They hurried down the stairs, past the offices and guest rooms, past the three levels of library stacks, down to the level where the Council Hall was.

Pedrin and one of the other wizards who had gone with him were huddled by the door at the bottom of the stairs. There were yells and shouts coming from the other side.

Meleng paused before reaching the bottom. How would Pedrin react to him being there?

“Oh, thank goodness,” Pedrin said as Feviona reached him. “As best we can tell, there are at least a dozen Bloods and soldiers in the Council Hall. We have six wizards positioned in the hallway, and…”

Feviona paid him no mind, opened the door and went through.

“Oh right,” Pedrin said. “You don’t understand, do you?”

Meleng hurried after Feviona.

“Meleng? But…”

“Sorry,” Meleng muttered as he rushed past Pedrin.

The corridor beyond was full of smoke. Only four of the wizards Pedrin had mentioned were still standing, huddling two apiece in the doorways of the storage rooms on either side of the corridor. The other two lay on the floor in expanding pools of blood. Feviona stepped over them and over the burnt bodies of the Bloods that lay just beyond them. She proceeded along the scorched end of the corridor towards the Council Hall doors where two Bloods stood, each holding a tall, rectangular shield.

“Keep it confined to the corridor where it can’t use its wings,” a voice within the Council Hall yelled.

The two Bloods raised their shields and hooked them together. Then they moved step-by-step forward, the joined shields covering close to the entire width of the corridor.

Feviona paused and tilted her head to the side.

The Bloods continued straight towards her. As they got closer, she straightened her head and took a single step back. She reached out with her free hand and ran her finger along the joined shields as the Bloods rammed into her.

The shields cracked and fell to pieces.

The Bloods stopped and reached for their swords, but Feviona ran her finger along the armour of the one on her left. The tabard withered away, and the chain links beneath split and splattered to the ground. Both Bloods stumbled backwards, the now unarmoured one nearly slipping on the pile of chain links at his feet. Feviona ran her sword through his chest.

The other one drew his sword as he continued backwards.

Feviona spread her wings—not fully; there wasn’t room for that—as she walked towards the Blood. The tips scraped along the corridor walls.

As the Blood lunged forwards, the walls cracked, and pieces of stone flew off and battered against him, pushing him back.

Meleng practically laughed. Had Feviona…? Yes, she had. She’d traced equations with her wings! Gods, she was amazing.

The Blood turned, ran back to the end of the corridor, and banged on the doors. “She’s coming! I can’t hold her back. Let me in!”

Feviona reached him and he turned to face her. He towered over her, but he backed against the doors in fear. He swung down with his sword, but as it met hers, it shattered.

He drew a dagger and banged on the doors again with his other hand. “Sir, please!”

Feviona ran a finger across his armour, and it fell apart the same way the other Blood’s had. Meleng really wished he could see the equations she was writing.

The Blood looked down at Feviona. “Please don’t kill me.” He was very young, no more than eighteen or nineteen.

Feviona ran her fingers over his clothes. Bit by bit, they rotted away until he was standing there completely naked. He dropped his dagger and whimpered.

Feviona punched him in the groin, then shoved him aside. He ran down the hall, where two of the wizards grabbed his arms and began to tie him up.

Meleng walked up to Feviona. “That was amazing.”

She nodded to the doors. “It is...” something.

Meleng shook his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”

Feviona thought a moment. “They are waiting.”

Of course! A trap or ambush. He nodded.

Feviona motioned to the wizards. “Conjurors?”

“You lot,” Meleng said. “You’re mostly conjurors, right?”

“I’m an enchanter,” one young man said, “but the rest are conjurors.”

Meleng nodded to Feviona. “Three conjurors.”

She pointed to the lock on the doors. “I need to conserve power.”

Meleng nodded again, and knelt by the lock. He could do this. Breaking the lock should be simple. He ran through the calculations in his head, glancing back at Feviona. He hoped she didn’t think he was taking too long. He traced the equations and added a connector, running a line down the corridor, so he could activate the spell from the other end.

“Wind,” Feviona said. “Lots of wind.”

“They’re probably waiting for us to open the doors,” Meleng told the wizards. “I’ll break the lock. Feviona wants lots of wind when I do. Can you do that?”

The three conjurors nodded.

Feviona walked back down the hall to stand beside Meleng behind the conjurors. “Now.”

“Now!” Meleng said and activated the spell. The lock cracked apart.

The conjurors threw their arms forward and howling winds blew the doors open. A swarm of arrows that would have flown down the corridor and pierced their bodies instead scattered apart and hit the walls and floor as the wind blew them back.

A moment later, the wind stopped and Feviona strode past the conjurors, motioning them to follow her. Meleng started to follow as well, but Feviona pointed at him. “You, stay.”

“But Sinitïa.”

But Feviona wasn’t looking at him. She was already striding through the door, the conjurors right behind her.

“What should I do?” the young enchanter said.

Meleng shrugged. “She wants me to wait. I assume you too. Maybe.”

“I’m Fridrin by the way,” the enchanter said.

Meleng nodded, not taking his eyes off the door. “Meleng.” He couldn’t see anything through the door from here, although the sounds of yells from within were very audible.

“Yeah, I know,” Fridrin said. “Nin-Akna’s talked about you. She says we look alike.”

Meleng glanced at him. He didn’t look much like Akna. He was about Meleng’s height with dark, curly hair. He...oh. Akna had meant he looked like Meleng.

There were more yells from inside the Council Hall, then an explosion. Smoke poured through the doorway.

Meleng sighed. He had to know if Sinitïa was okay. Surely peering through the doors wouldn’t hurt? He moved up to them.

“Should we be doing this?” Fridrin hissed.

Meleng didn’t answer and peered inside.

The clearing smoke revealed chairs scattered all over the place, many of them broken and some in flames. A few bodies of soldiers lay amidst the chairs. Several Bloods still stood about the room—six at first guess—some with bows, others with swords and shields. Two of them—armourless—were pushing against a wind blowing into them.

One of the conjurors lay on the ground unmoving, while the other two were just to the right of the centre of the room, one the source of the wind. From the other, a streak of flame shot out at two other Bloods, who huddled behind their shields.

“Remember, it’s all tricks! Chemicals create the flames, acid dissolves the armour. The rest is sleight of hand.” The voice came from one of three Bloods in the back corner. Meleng hadn’t noticed them at first. The one speaking appeared to be the one standing behind the other two, but they all wore helmets so it was hard to be sure.

Feviona flew down from above at those three. The front two raised their shields as her sword swung down. It sliced a piece off one of the shields. As she flipped around, the Blood at the back removed his helmet and threw it at her. It hit her in the back and she crashed to the floor.

“See?” the helmetless Blood said. “Lack of space for it to manoeuvre makes it vulnerable.”

Feviona jumped to her feet and spun round as the two front Bloods lowered their shields and raised their swords. One stepped forward, and she jumped back. She didn’t have her sword. She must have dropped it in the fall, but Meleng couldn’t see where it was.

The advancing Blood lunged at her, and she leapt into the air, her wings spreading wide. His sword grazed her leg.

Feviona came down on the Blood’s shoulders, wrapping her legs around his neck, and knocking him over.

The other Blood swung down at her, but she rolled aside, wrapping her wings around herself as she did. The Blood’s sword almost struck his prone companion instead.

Feviona jumped back to her feet and spread her wings again. The two standing Bloods both lunged at her, and she leapt into the air once more.

The one without his helmet picked it up from the floor nearby. He had a scarred face. “It will tire soon.” He placed the helmet back on.

Feviona landed near the two conjurors. There were screams from the two armourless Bloods as they went up in flames. The other four Bloods in the room remained standing though and were getting closer to the centre.

In the far corner, the scarred man and the two Bloods with him advanced forward.

There had to be something Meleng could do to help. His hand went to the sword at his side. It had been hers originally. He drew it.

“Are you any good with that?” Fridrin asked.

Meleng shook his head. “Nope.” But he didn’t need to be. He just needed to be able to throw it far enough. “Feviona!” With every bit of strength he could muster, he threw the sword towards her.

It hit the ground well before reaching her, slid a little closer, and stopped.

It didn’t matter. She ran towards it, scooped it up, and flew into the air again.

“We need a smokescreen!” Meleng yelled. “Soak the chairs and then burn them!”

One of the conjurors clapped his hands together, and water sprayed out from him in every direction. Bloods rushed at him, one slipping on the now-slick floor. Another fell to Feviona’s blade. Then the other conjuror began targeting the chairs with blasts of fire. A Blood’s sword then pierced his chest just as Feviona flew down and kicked the Blood in the face. The conjuror fell to the floor, blood pooling around him.

The other conjuror took up the task of burning the chairs, but smoke was already starting to spread through the hall.

“Hurry! Back here!” Fridrin called.

The conjuror stopped throwing fire, and ran for the doors. Feviona landed between him and the Bloods. Her sword cut through another of theirs.

The conjuror made it back into the hallway.

“Feviona!” Meleng called.

She backed up a few steps, then turned, and ran into the hallway.

Meleng and Fridrin pulled the doors closed. “The latching mechanism is broken,” Meleng said.

Fridrin rapidly traced equations on the doors. Someone on the other side pulled on them, but the edges of the two doors dissolved into one another. Fridrin let out a long breath. “That should hold them for a little while, I hope.”

Meleng nodded. He needed to learn how to do that.

The formerly double doors, now single barrier shook as people on the other side tried to open it.

Feviona kissed Meleng on the cheek. “Thanks for the sword. I will keep it until I get mine back.”

Meleng nodded. “It’s yours whenever you need it.”

“There are only four left. We need to lure them into a wider space where we can meet them with greater numbers. Tell these two to keep watch. Then tell Pedrin to gather others and find us a place to meet them. Then you return upstairs. You may be needed.”

Meleng smiled and nodded. He’d understood everything she’d said!

But Sinitïa! He hadn’t seen her in there, but the Council Hall was where she, Agernon, and Corvinian were supposed to wait. “Did you see Sinitïa?”

Feviona shook her head. “She was not there.”

She must have gotten out somehow. Or she’d been taken prisoner. Meleng gulped. He hoped she was okay.

Feviona pointed sternly down the hall.

Meleng nodded again, and set about the tasks she’d set him.