CHAPTER 289: THE SCENT OF MAGIC

The Scent of Magic

Canardia

The sky was wide and blue with only a few stray clouds, and under the sun’s blaze, the land below was teeming with people, for the harvest was in full swing. Across the countryside, fields glowed with the gold of ripened wheat, standing next to the dark orange stubble of the barley fields cut a few weeks earlier. Beyond them, rye and oats still waited their turn. From every village, hamlet, and manor, folk labored from dawn till dusk. Relatives returned from the towns, and landless men offered their strength as seasonal hands, for there was work for every able body.

Though the hours were long, the days were filled with smiles, and gratitude was in abundance. After all that had happened in the world, to see a good harvest was like a sign from the Ancients that all might yet be well. Jugs of ale passed from hand to hand, songs rose above the fields, and children joined in the labors or played among the stooks. Yet beneath the laughter lingered an urgency, for they labored not only against time but against the sky itself.

A sudden rain could dampen the yield, leaving the grain wet, the kernels shriveled, and prone to rot in storage. Grain stored damp was as good as lost, and risked growing fungus that could taint the entire granary. And that was not the worst of it. The longer the crop lingered uncut, the more it drew rats, vermin, and pests, and always there hung the dread of the most destructive of all, the locusts.

Amid all this, Lansius and Audrey rode swiftly to escape the searing midday sun. They had just visited the duck pens and were halfway to the city when Audrey reminded him that Tanya had taken on the duty of opening the newly repaired waterwheel alongside Ingrid. Lansius had completely forgotten. Usually, his squires would have reminded him.

Fortunately, Audrey, though it was no longer her duty, still knew his daily itinerary in careful detail. Thus, they urged their horses forward, riding with ten escorts toward the east gate. Their plan had been to observe quietly from a distance, incognito, as they often did. Lansius carried a small monocular now, so even watching from afar would not be much of a problem.

They entered the gatehouse, where ten were already prepared to receive them, a sign that the officer on duty, his watchmen, and the sentries were capable and well-disciplined. After brief greetings, Lansius ordered a carriage and two traveling cloaks to maintain their cover.

As they waited for the carriage, they climbed to the top of the gatehouse for a quick look. They rarely visited the eastern gate, but from that high vantage point overlooking the city, the stream, and the waterwheel, Audrey suddenly caught sight of something unusual and gripped Lansius by the arm.

“What is it?” he asked, sensing something was wrong and bracing himself for her answer.

“I see a mage,” she said grimly, her voice low and steady. “Hiding in the crowd near the waterwheel.”

Lansius felt his heart race in an instant. “Ingrid?”

“It’s not her.” She clicked her tongue. “The trace vanished.”

“Tanya is in there,” Lansius muttered, then hurriedly motioned for the lieutenant of the gate to approach.

“My Lord,” the lieutenant and his adjutant drew near.

“We have an emergency. A mage intruder in the city. Ready the riders under your charge. I need horsemen prepared and every gate and the castle informed to be on alert, but do it discreetly. I don’t want chaos.”

The lieutenant’s face turned serious. "Right away!" he half-shouted his answer before rushing toward his men, issuing a flurry of orders.

Lansius turned back to Audrey. “Did you find the mage again?"

“Not with that many in the crowd.”

“What do you think it’s trying to do?” he asked, following her gaze, though he knew it was too far even for his small monocular.

Audrey did not answer but met his eyes. There was only one answer: to kill him.

Lansius felt no dread but frowned, thinking fast, while Audrey had already made up her mind.

“You stay here,” she said and went to the stairs, knowing they had no time.

“By the Ancients, Audrey, no!” he snapped, chasing after her.

“Lans, only I can see him,” she threw back over her shoulder as she raced downward, skirts gathered in her hands.

“I would never agree to you risking yourself,” he said, following close behind, his boots striking the steps in hurried rhythm.

“They might attack Tanya,” she reasoned, frustration in her voice.

“Then we go together,” he declared, their footsteps echoing along the stone stairs.

Audrey wasn’t surprised. As they reached the ground floor, she said between quick steps, “You’re always stubborn.”

“You ride behind. I wear steel beneath my doublet,” Lansius said as his boots struck the floor.

“No need, I’ve got my brigandine on too,” she replied as they strode toward the destrier.

Not far from them, the guards and additional riders were still mounting up, tightening reins and fastening belts while their horses snorted and shifted impatiently. The guard leader approached, intent on speaking, but Audrey spoke first. “We’re going on a manhunt. Possibly a mage assassin.” ř𝘢Nọ𝔟ĘＳ

The guard leader immediately understood the situation. “My Lady, I cannot allow you or the Lord to expose yourselves to such danger—”

“You can stop one of us, but not both,” Audrey cut in sharply. “Now get moving.”

The guard leader frowned, his eyebrows drawn sharply. He exchanged a brief glance with his men, but they all knew it was futile, so he turned and began barking orders.

Lansius reached for the destrier first, but Audrey planted her foot on the stirrup and leapt into the saddle with effortless grace, as if she weighed nothing.

The guard leader called out again, “My Lord, at least allow one of your guards to go ahead with three riders.”

“Do it. Head for the waterwheel,” Lansius ordered, and at once the captain sent four riders galloping down the street.

Audrey extended a hand toward him. “Hop on.”

But Lansius noticed an officer bringing another horse.

“Hop on,” Audrey urged, withdrawing her foot from the stirrup. “I trust no one with you. Better you ride behind me. I can shield you from bolt or bear.”

Bear...?

There was no time to argue. Lansius caught her hand, set his foot on the stirrup, and she pulled him up. He had barely settled in the saddle when Audrey spurred the destrier forward. Around them, their twelve escorts thundered into motion, six riding ahead and six following close behind.

The leading riders had already gone ahead, shouting for the way to be cleared as they raced toward the stream and the newly repaired waterwheel complex. Townsfolk scattered in alarm, dragging carts aside, seizing their mule or donkey by the reins, or leaping into doorways to escape the pounding hooves. Some shouted curses, others complained, but the noise died quickly when they saw the Lord and Lady riding hard with their escort.

“An assassin when Francisca isn’t around? This is fishy,” Audrey muttered, freeing her bow from its saddle case as the path narrowed.

“Do you suspect Avery?” Lansius asked, holding her close with one arm. “Indeed, that airship could carry twenty men easily. He could have sent men ahead to infiltrate the city before landing, but for what reason? He's an ally.”

“We both know he wants something from you, and it’s not just horses, alliance, or help.”

“I know that, but there’s no reason to send an assassin after me."

“Think again,” she said grimly. “If he could take Tanya hostage—”

“Nobody knew Tanya was going there. Not even I knew, remember?”

“Right,” Audrey muttered as she guided the destrier through a sharp turn at the junction.

But then she stopped almost abruptly, startling their escorts and forcing the riders behind to rein in hard.

“My Lady?” one of them called, unsure of her intent.

But from ahead came the sound of shouting. The four riders who had gone before were galloping back, and the lead guard called out, “The pilgrims are blocking the road!”

“Damn it,” Audrey cursed. She should have known the pilgrims would gather, drawn by the news of the waterwheel’s opening ceremony, which likely involved Lansius. She wheeled the destrier sharply and urged it toward the junction they had just passed.

“I truly need to deal with them soon,” Lansius muttered under his breath.

“I’m beginning to agree with you,” Audrey replied, steering the destrier down a different path.

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“Make way!” the two forward guards shouted as they rode hard. Townsfolk scattered in alarm, some pressing against walls, others dragging carts or children aside, while the horse and escort thundered past.

Lansius watched the road stretch ahead and couldn't find the familiar landmarks. A faint frown crossed his face as he realized the turn they had taken. “This isn’t the road to the waterwheel."

“I’m circling around to catch that mage from behind the crowd.”

Cold sweat beaded on Lansius’ brow. “No, stop. That’s not the plan.”

“What?” she protested.

“If we go straight at him, it’ll turn bloody fast. Rein it down,” he urged.

Audrey looked over her shoulder and stared at him in disbelief.

“Trust me," Lansius said.

She gritted her teeth and slowed the destrier to a stop, which neighed in protest.

“What are you trying to do?” she asked as Lansius dismounted.

“Follow me.” He grabbed her bow and quiver, glancing up toward the tallest insula apartment.

People were already watching. A small crowd gathered, some greeting him with surprise. “My Lord.”

Meanwhile, Audrey and the guards scrambled to form a protective line as Lansius advanced on foot. He waved to the nearby crowd, smiling to ease their alarm. “I’m trying to scare away a big vulture that brings bad omen to the city,” he said, the first thing that came to mind to explain himself.

Lansius spotted a tall insula nearby and tried its door, finding both it and the window shuttered and locked, a sure sign it was unoccupied. “Excuse me,” he muttered out of habit, then drove his boot hard against the door. Dust burst from the hinges, and the old wood groaned but did not give up easily.

He was about to strike again when Audrey stepped forward. Her hand gripped the handle, and with a single, violent push, wood and iron shrieked apart as splinters scattered across the floor. Lansius blinked. He could think of several proper ways to breach a door, but she had already left a crater in the wood and shoved it open wide.

The room beyond was mostly dark, save for a thin gap between the roof tiles where several beams of light passed through. The air was stale, heavy with cobwebs and the faint smell of rot. Before he could think, Audrey offered her hand. “We’re going to the top, right?”

...

They climbed quickly, their hardened leather soles, studded with metal, thudding against the worn steps. The guards followed close behind, one staying to secure the stairs while the riders remained outside to hold the horses and form a perimeter. They had heard what the Lord had said and repeated the same story about scaring away a large, ominous vulture to the gathering onlookers, calming them and urging them not to spread the word yet, lest it draw a larger crowd.

Panting and heaving, Lansius climbed three floors through narrow stairs thick with stale, dusty air. Audrey, by contrast, barely broke a sweat. The top was not a roof but another empty chamber with a small sleeping room and a bare living space. There was no kitchen, only a table and three chairs.

The door was not locked. Lansius entered first and looked around. “There must be a way up.”

Audrey went to the window and unlatched the wooden blinds. A burst of sunlight poured in, along with a breath of fresh air that stirred the dust into motion. “This will do.”

She focused her gaze and held out a hand. “My bow.”

He passed it to her at once. “Did you find him?”

“I see only traces for now, but I have a plan.”

“What plan?”

A sudden blast of air roared outside, as if the wind itself had surged. Birds scattered in alarm, cawing, while the window shutters and their hinges rattled in protest.

“Did you scatter your magic?” Lansius asked.

“Yes. I used the wind to scatter a trace of my magic in that direction. Any mage will feel it and react.” Audrey squinted into the distance, her breathing slow and steady as she nocked an arrow.

“But the crowd?” he whispered, careful not to break her focus.

“The crowd will only feel the breeze and stay where they are. I’ll take him when he starts to retreat.”

“A male mage?”

“More likely now,” she said, having narrowed her suspicion.

Two guards entered. They likely knew why they were there and made no ruckus. Lansius gestured for silence. One of them carried a small lantern, likely fetched from one of the rooms below.

Suddenly, the bowstring snapped with a sharp twang as Audrey released her first arrow. The shaft hissed through the air and vanished out the window.

Lansius skipped a beat when she drew and loosed another. Then, before she fired a third, she shouted to the guards, “A man in his early thirties, fit, tall, wearing a brown cloak and a gray tunic! He’s escaping from the crowd, heading through the alley toward the market!”

The guards shouted down the stairs, and within moments, six riders galloped toward the target.

Downstairs, the guards were already making things up. “Yes, yes, the Lord has shot the vulture of omen. Our riders are chasing it now, it’s bad luck for the city!”

The crowd murmured, confused and curious, and another guard spoke up awkwardly, “What, you don’t see the vulture? Well, they say the Lord isn’t like common men, yes, he has… certain skills, yes, yes.”

They both soon realized what trouble they had started, especially with the pilgrims in the city, but at least they had done their best to keep order.

Audrey loosed her third arrow, then clicked her tongue.

“Did you get him?”

“I lost him. He’s running through the alley. I’m still not that good with a bow, and I miscalculated.” Audrey’s tone was sharp, heavy with disappointment. “The man isn’t a mage. If he were, he’d have blocked it and run into hiding. Instead, he dodged and fled. I tore a hole in his cloak, but nothing more.”

“Not a mage...” Lansius muttered. He already knew the answer.

She glanced toward him. “As I feared.”

“How about Tanya?”

“She’s fine.” Audrey looked out the window again. “More men have arrived, and Ingrid is on high alert. I saw nothing suspicious.” She paused for a moment, then added, “You should send a guard to instruct them to evacuate without causing panic.”

“Didn’t your arrows cause panic?”

“No. I waited until he separated from the crowd and went farther off. Arrows are hard to notice when everyone’s lively.” Audrey paused, then said with a faint smirk on her lips, “A boy saw and picked up the scattered arrow.”

“Should I send someone to retrieve it?” Lansius asked, knowing her arrows were custom-made to her needs.

“No. It struck the cobblestone street. Let it be a souvenir for him.”

“You’re softhearted,” Lansius quipped to ease the tension. Audrey stifled a chuckle, eyes still scanning the distance.

Lansius turned to a guard waiting near the stairs. “Send someone to the waterwheel. Meet Ingrid and ask Lady Tanya to return to the castle. Say I wish to see her, but don’t alarm anyone.”

Audrey also faced the guard and added, “Get a few more riders and send them to the market. We need to corner anyone who looks suspicious.”

“It’s going to be difficult, My Lady,” the guard said.

“I know,” she confirmed. The guard gave a nod and hurried downstairs.

Lansius inhaled deeply, the stale air scratching his throat until he almost coughed.

Audrey glanced at the window. “This window is big enough, and the rooftops link all the way to the market.”

Lansius felt a chill. "You can't be serious."

“They won’t catch him. Even if they do, you know how dangerous assassins are."

"Just what do you intend to do?”

“I can chase that man from rooftop to rooftop,” she answered flatly.

He stared at her, weighing whether she was teasing or truly serious. “Drey, you’re not a half-breed.”

“Would you risk an assassin lurking in the city?”

“I’ll not risk the mother of my son.”

“Too bad,” she said with a faint, daring expression. "You know, Sir Morton once jumped from an airship, and I think I understand his method to survive the fall. Dropping from a building wouldn’t injure me too badly. I’ll be careful."

Lansius met her gaze squarely. “I have to admit that would look damn heroic. But the answer is still no.”

“Then,” she turned toward him, voice sharp with resolve, “at least let me chase him on horseback.”

Lansius hesitated.

Is this what she planned from the start?

Not taking no for an answer, she pressed, “You know it takes a great deal of restraint not to try jumping.”

He caught her wrist. “Let’s get down. It’s time we trust the bailiff, Francisca, her kin, and their men to handle this before you need to act.”

“But the trail will go cold,” she argued.

“I know. But I think the higher we rise, the more this will become normal.” Lansius took the lantern hanging near the door. Seeing Audrey frown at his words, he added, “Like it or not, we’ll have to learn to live with assassins at our back. Now we have one, and while it may sound amoral, it’s a test for our security. By next year, we’ll likely have more.”

Audrey exhaled through her nose and nodded. “Enemies within. Enemies without.”

***

The Skies of Nicopola

Amid the night skies and the endless ocean of clouds, two airships drifted like silent leviathans. The cold wind from the Targe Mountains swept across the deck of the leading vessel, the Bat. The ropes and rigging strained and creaked against the gusts, an unnerving sound for those unaccustomed to the heights. Yet the crew sat still, clad in thick woolen coats that added weight, though nothing compared to their armor and weapons.

At the helm sat the charming Angelo, still dashing and in his prime. The Bat flew in a spirited way, nimble even, no longer burdened by the last refit that had allowed her to carry as many men as possible. That refit had been necessary during the great evacuation, when she had borne an impressive seventy-seven men aboard, and also because of the shortage of volatile oil needed for the fire attacks. Much of the material had been diverted to strengthen Kapua’s defense, though even that had proven unable to stop the assault.

Working in tandem with her sister ship, the Bat had evacuated several hundred souls from the besieged city. Now, with a new supply received, she had been restored to her original loadout of fire. For the foreseeable future, however, this would be their last stock until more shipments arrived from Halicia and Ekionia.

The dozen men aboard were quiet, with only Angelo in motion as he worked the controls, guiding the Bat through shifting air currents.

A sudden gust struck them, and the blackened skin and rigging of the airship flapped furiously. Even the gondola swayed as though they were sailing on rough seas.

The owner of this majestic vessel, Lord Avery of Dawn, sat in his usual place with the powerful field optics set before him. Yet he remained silent, eyes closed, focusing on a small earring he clutched within his gloved palm. The mission was so vital that he had brought out his family heirloom.

Warrior Three, this is Fighting Lead, do you read me?

He had tried several times, but there was no answer.

Angelo, wearing a leather helmet and glass goggles, turned slightly from his station and craned his neck to see Lord Avery, who sat at the center of the gondola.

Sensing his gaze, Lord Avery looked up and simply shook his head.

There was no contact.

Angelo drew a slow breath and turned his gaze back to the night sky.

Lord Avery returned to his Dwarven artifact. This one was never meant for long-range communication. At best, it could reach from one village to another, not across several cities. Perhaps the relic was failing, being truly old. Despite Angelo’s assurances after examining it, Avery still harbored doubt. This was something different from the black one that he used regularly to send long-range messages.

Once, he had heard that despite some similarities, the two stemmed from vastly different technologies. In a sense, this one, which he called the Hero’s Earring, was more capable. It could transmit instantaneous thoughts, even images. Meanwhile, the black one could only send flashes of black and white. However, the range between them was vastly different.

The black one could send messages from almost anywhere without fail. Thus, he had entrusted that one to his granddaughter, Ella, who held a very important role. And today, he had received troubling news from South Midlandia. Another attempt on Lansius’ life. His blood boiled at the thought of assassins.

Ironically, what he was about to do was just as vile. Yet he found justification in the thought that he was fighting a war, not waging an undeclared rebellion.

Warrior Three, this is Fighting Lead, do you read me?

He sent another message, almost like a prayer, hoping for an answer.

"..."

Instead of an answer, flashes of thunder lit the distant sky, unsettling the men. No explanation was needed. If such weather caught them, the result would be nothing short of disastrous.

Still, Lord Avery knew there was no going back. Too much time had passed. He had received setbacks and delays. They needed to launch this mission or risk losing their entire gamble.

"c–... in–..."

A burst of static broke through, faint but real. The old Lord’s eyes lit up. "Angelo, I hear them," he blurted out, drawing the attention of everyone on board. It was their first good sign.

"Then we're getting close. Keep trying, My Lord," Angelo said, his tone hopeful.

Avery removed his gloves, feeling the chill wind on his fingers as he clasped the earring tightly with both hands.

Warrior Three, this is Fighting Lead, please repeat.

"..."

"..."

"..."

Warrior Three, this is Fighting Lead, please repeat.

No reply came.

But as the weather worsened and the deck bathed in the orange glow of distant lightning, Lord Avery heard it, faint at first, as if rising from within his soul.

“Fighting Lead, this is Warrior Three. We hear you loud and clear. Welcome back to Kapua.”

Old Avery’s cracked lips curved into a faint smile as the cold wind swept across the deck of the Bat. “It’s showtime.”

***