32

Sialira fell to her knees upon seeing the gathered, emaciated prisoners, both hands rising to her mouth and tears beginning to fall. After a few seconds, she began to crawl upon her hands and knees, reaching out to the nearest person to her, an elf who looked up to the young Witch, mouth moving without a sound. Sialira's eyes raced around the others before falling upon Miraveh.

"We have to help them!" She reached out her other hand to clasp that of another prisoner, a creature that Miraveh did not recognise. She whispered to the creature. "You're a goblin, aren't you? We'll help you. We'll save you all."

"We can't save anyone. Can you tell the Candidate or not?" Miraveh pushed herself to her feet, looking around the warehouse. Sialira shook her head without looking at Miraveh. "Daras. Over there. Water skins. Give the captives some water while I think."

She turned away from the gathered people, fingers scratching her scalp through her short hair. This was not how she had planned it. There were far too many to sneak away through some back door to the warehouse, if such a door even existed. Even had the Hunters not realised their subterfuge, they would have stood no chance of spiriting away the prisoners without someone noticing.

Goblins. There were several of those among the captives, though they did not look like the creatures she had read about. Small, like children, they had a golden sheen to their skin, long, hooked noses similar to elves, but with large, wide, black eyes. No-one would fail to notice they were not human. Neither would the elves pass without notice, their chalk-white, to charcoal-grey skin would stand out as much as the golden skin of the goblins.

Even the humans would cause a stir. All the captives were terribly under-fed, taut skin flattened against bones. No. Miraveh could see no way of taking them from this place. She moved back towards the doors of the warehouse to look outside and found the Hunters had created a semi-circle before the building. They had paused, but Miraveh could not think why.

And, there, at the forefront of Hunters, stood the Karline with three relics. Yaerual. Fingers of one hand played against the rings upon his other as he frowned towards the warehouse. Without releasing her own magic, she could not tell whether he were casting a spell, or only expanding his awareness through use of the relics. Her hand moved to the bundle within her jacket, where four relics sat. She didn't doubt Yaerual could sense them

Then it occurred to her why the Hunters held back. She counted twenty-four Hunters, which meant that, at most, they had eight Karline within those ranks. If eight of those Hunters were the companions of the four Karline within the warehouse, that meant the Karline were heavily outnumbered by the Witches within, even though those Witches were probably too frail to fight. The Hunters could not be certain.

There were other factors to consider, also. Though creatures born of magic, Miraveh did not know whether elves or goblins could perform magic. That would reduce their own ranks, and she doubted many, if any, of the humans were strong enough to fight. But Miraveh had Sialira and Daras and, at the last count, six relics. That gave her an idea.

"Sialira. Who among these Witches are the strongest in magic? Are any well enough to cast spells?" Returning to the centre of the warehouse, Miraveh gave Daras a jerk of the head, sending him to watch the doors. "It's asking much, but we need them to help us help them."

"Why? With your strength, you could beat all the Hunters." Sialira tipped a water skin against the parched lips of an elf, dribbling precious water into their mouth. "Why put these people through more suffering?"

"I don't want to reveal my magic if I can help it." For a number of reasons, Miraveh added in her mind. "I want to hold that knowledge back from those outside."

"I. I am the strongest of us, after the Phrenica ... after we lost our leader." The woman that had spoken to Miraveh first forced herself to stand. She began pointing towards others. "I am Mandelar. These are Zeyal, Beneiri, Lakushur, Vendurthia, Grynea ..."

"You and the first four are enough." The last one that the Witch had pointed to, Grynea, didn't look as though he could stand. "I'm going to propose something that, if Sialira is anything to go by, you will not like."

She looked to the side, where Daras had moved the unconscious Karline. As enterprising as ever, the young thief had managed to find rope from somewhere and tied the Hunters together, in a heap. Satisfied that they were secure, Miraveh removed the bundle of relics from her jacket. She opened the bundle, revealing the necklaces, and then held out a hand to Sialira. The young Witch knew what Miraveh wanted, handing her both the relics she held.

With the six relics together, Miraveh saw a grimace form upon the worn face of Mandelar. Of course the Witch knew what they were and she could sense the darkness that exuded from the relics, even though Miraveh could not. She looked across the painfully thin faces of Mandelar and her fellow Witches, not knowing which, if any of them, was the Candidate. She could not tell. The Seeker's Urge had brought her here, but it could not identify the one she sought. She needed to release her magic for that and now was not the time.

Still Mandelar hesitated and Miraveh could not blame her. While the Witch decided whether to use the tool of their hated enemy or not, Miraveh took one, handing it back to Sialira. In this, she would accept no arguments. Sialira remained the only Witch here that had not suffered terrible deprivation at the hands of the Hunters, still strong in body, if not in the magic of her own. The relic would balance those scales.

One by one, the former captives reached down for a relic. On each of their faces, Miraveh could see a look of disgust even before any of them had touched the relic itself. Miraveh did not know if she had given these Witches the power to fight back, or had made the world far darker than it was. She knew, all too well, what the touch of a relic could do to the mind. She watched as each of the Witches hung the relic about their necks.

"I'm not certain what you expect us to do with these." One of the Witches, Zeyal, if Miraveh remembered correctly, lifted the string of the relic, curling her nose at it. "Magic cannot be used offensively."

"That isn't strictly true." Sialira glanced towards Miraveh as she said that and then faced the other five Witches. "I've seen it used in such a way and if the Karline can do it, so can we. I don't know if it's due to these relics or not, that's an experiment for safer days, but we can. I think I can show you."

Miraveh nodded, squeezing Sialira's shoulder as she moved away. She had left Daras watching the doors alone for too long. She could trust Sialira to show the Witches what they would need to do. She was, after all, assigned to Miraveh to teach her how to use magic, even though Miraveh had done everything she could to avoid doing so. If anyone could learn and teach how to use magic offensively, it was Sialira.

At the doors to the warehouse, Miraveh found Daras leaning against them, peering through a fresh hole in the wood. One hand flipped one of his elven daggers from finger to finger, twirling it with ease. The other hand rubbed at his bald head, slicking away the sweat. He didn't look to Miraveh as she approached, but she saw a tiny stutter in the movement of the twirling knife. He knew she was there.

"They're just standing there. It seems, I don't know, odd." He moved to the side, allowing Miraveh to look through the hole he had dug in the wood. "I'm not a strategist, but I would have thought they would have done something by now. And that one, the one with the rings, I don't trust him."

"No, you aren't a strategist. You're a thief." Miraveh looked out at Yaerual, who had sat upon the dusty ground, legs crossed. He did look as though he were attempting something. "So, I would expect you to know how I can get out of here without them seeing me."

"Easy. To the north side of the warehouse floor, there is a ladder up to the roof. I noticed it earlier. That's probably how that Karline I killed got up there." Daras squinted at Miraveh, examining her features. "You're not running away, that's not you, so what are you ...? A distraction! You're going to cause a distraction and give these people a chance to escape!"

Miraveh said nothing more. The young thief was far too clever for his own good, sometimes, but he was not wrong. She couldn't help these people to escape from here and, despite handing out the relics and with Sialira's fast training, she doubted the Witches could put up much of a fight. And then there were the others. Those too sickly to run. The elves and goblins that Miraveh was not certain had magic of their own.

Here, they were vulnerable. The warehouse would prove no sanctuary against Karline magic, so she needed to take the Hunters away from the warehouse. Too many times she had made the wrong choices and people had suffered and died. Today, she would place only herself in danger and, if she didn't survive, at least the others would. She hoped.

-+-

Before Miraveh even reached the ladder to the roof, the entire building began to shake, dust falling from walls and rafters, the cloth bale walls shaking and tumbling. Then, as abruptly as it had started, the shaking stopped. Miraveh turned to see Sialira, Mandelar and the other four emaciated Witches, standing together, hands clutching the relics. Miraveh couldn't see the flow of the magic, still suppressing her own, but she knew that they fought the Karline magic with all their strength.

She had little time. The attack upon the warehouse would not be the last and, she expected, not the strongest attack. The Hunters and their Karline magic wielders would intensify their attacks before too long. With the building now stable, for the time being, Miraveh began to scramble up the ladder.

A trapdoor in the roof opened up to the searing sunlight and she blinked several times before easing herself on to the roof, keeping low and taking her bearings. She crept to the back of the roof, away from the semi-circle of Hunters at the front, and found the empty street where Daras had tossed the first Karline down onto the packed ground. She saw no-one. The Hunters as certain that there was no escape as Miraveh was that she would find a way.

To the side, she could see a lower building. The gap between that building and the warehouse was wide, but not too wide that she could not make the leap. Satisfied that no-one could see her, she gauged the distance, took off at a run and jumped. As soon as her feet touched the roof of the other building, she tucked herself into a ball and rolled to a halt, exactly as Alran had once taught her. Even now, her old mentor gave her strength in his wisdom.

As she began to lower herself down from the lower roof to the street below, she heard a cracking sound from the direction of the warehouse. Something collapsed, dust exploding upwards into the cloudless sky, but she could only hope that Sialira and the once-captive Witches could handle the attack. Her feet touched the ground and, there before her eyes, she saw the face of a young child through an open window.

The child raised a finger to her lips and then glanced over her shoulder before reaching for wooden shutters, closing them. Miraveh didn't know if that meant the child's parents were want to inform upon others to the Hunters, or whether Hunters had entered the smaller building. Either way, the girl appeared to not bring attention to Miraveh.

Safe upon the ground, Miraveh ran through the layout of Comragon that she remembered from the map Daras' cousin had provided. From here, she needed to take several streets before she reached the place where she would make her stand and she had very little time to reach it. Taking the sword from its sheath, she gripped the hilt tight as she began to run.

She had only made two turns before she ran into trouble. Two Hunters blocked her path, stood with their backs to her, looking around the corner, back towards the warehouse. Why they hid, Miraveh didn't care to ask, nor to wonder where the third of the group had gone. Time became shorter the longer she delayed and she had to take her chances as they came to her.

At a run, she plunged the sword deep into the back of one of the Hunters, the blade passing through the black and white symbol of the Hunters O' The Dark, through the man's armour and into his body. She gave the sword one last push, twisting it before releasing the hilt and turning for the other.

That Hunter's mouth opened. In surprise, or to shout for others to come to his aid. She didn't wait to find out, straightening her fingers, blade-like, and striking the man in the throat. She heard a sickening crack and the Hunter fell to his knees, clutching at his throat, fighting for breath. Miraveh gripped the Hunter's sword, in its sheath at his hip, drew it and plunged it into his chest. Not in mercy, but in expediency. She had no time for pity or to see whether her attack had had the intended effect. Two more faces to add to her growing list of nighttime accusers.

With a pause at the corner, Miraveh slipped across the street into an alley at the other side. She had almost reached the place where she would begin to draw away the Hunters from the warehouse. She still wasn't certain what she could do, but, at the very least, revealing her magic should be a start. She doubted any of the Karline assembled before the warehouse could ignore her power. Yaerual, the three-fingered Karline, especially.

Something roared, back towards the warehouse, and Miraveh paused in her task long enough to stare back in wonder as a ball of flame burst upwards. Black, red and orange, the tower of fire appeared to have a life of its own, roiling and twisting skywards. She had miscalculated. The Hunters had begun to unleash their power against the warehouse far too early.

She couldn't stop here. The place she had chosen to make her stand had several advantages. An open space where she could see all the Hunters as they came to face her, a number of avenues of escape where she could disappear within thin alleys and buildings closer together than anywhere else in Comragon.

Here, she could become trapped too easy. Too many places and ways where the Hunters could encircle her. A noise to the side caught Miraveh's attention and she saw a mother ushering two children out of the street and into a building, closing the door after them. There were civilians here. Innocents. Where she had chosen to make her stand was mostly warehouses, away from the docks.

Even as she considered these things, Miraveh saw the tower of flame split apart, becoming visions of serpents. Those serpents of fire curled back upon themselves and then fell towards the ground. A quick calculation and Miraveh realised the flame serpents were being turned against the Hunters. Sialira and the Witches were still fighting.

Her feet began to pound upon the hard, dusty ground of the streets, urgency pushing her forward. Only a little further to go and then she could call all the attention of the Hunters upon herself. She could bring some relief to those trapped within that warehouse. Not far now.

Until she barrelled into someone running the other way. They tumbled together, arms and legs becoming entwined, until they came to a stop against the mud-brick, whitewashed wall of a building. It took Miraveh a second to come to her senses, but, as she did so, so did the one she had run into. A Karline. Running to bolster the attack upon the warehouse.

With one look, the Karline knew that, despite the armour she wore, Miraveh was not a sister of the Hunters O' The Dark. His hand flashed towards the relic dangling from his neck and Miraveh acted without thinking. Her own magic released, she reached out with it, purple tendrils snapping out to ensnare the magic of the Karline, grasping, clutching, twisting around the Karline's magic that, of a sudden, stopped as she imagined tearing that magic from the man.

Her magic faded and dwindled, the purple energy dissipating, and the Karline looked at her in horror. Knuckles turning white, the Karline gripped his relic, raising his other hand, palm outwards towards Miraveh, but nothing happened. She hadn't only choked away the Karline's magic, she had snapped it, cutting him off from it. She sensed no magic in the man anymore.

With a scream of rage and fear, the Karline reached under his cloak, producing a knife. Still screaming, he charged towards Miraveh, eyes wide with madness wrought from losing his magic. He moved too fast to stop him altogether, but Miraveh managed to catch his wrist, holding the blade far enough away from her chest. He pressed down with all his strength and weight and the tip of the blade began to lower towards her armoured chest.

Then, as though looking from a great distance, she saw the symbol etched into the pommel, scratched out but still visible. The symbol of the Order of Velaurian Warriors. The order that Miraveh felt certain Alran once belonged to. Alran who had died while she had lived. Died alongside so many others that had died over the years. As those in the warehouse would die if she did not finish what she had started.

The Karline redoubled his efforts as Miraveh moved one hand to push against his chest, the relic digging into the palm of her hand as she pushed. If she died here, all the captives would die. Daras would die. Sialira would die. And, through it all, Miraveh could imagine Yusuvur's chiding voice, her face twisting as Miraveh confirmed how pitiful she was to the elder Witch. That pitying, disgusted look, though imagined, made Miraveh's fury burn. Red hot. White hot.

Even as the Karline screamed in her face, telling her to give him back his magic, she screamed back into his, her fingers curling around his relic and then she added the power of the relic to her own magic and everything turned red, wet and slick. Miraveh no longer felt the Karline's weight pressing down upon her. The knife fell upon her chest causing nothing but a mild discomfort.

In her hand, she felt the dirty, dark heat of the relic and its magic, but she felt little else. The Karline had simply disappeared and, in his place, Miraveh could see only waterfalls of red fall across her eyes as she sat upright. Then she looked around her, at her hands, at her clothing and she began to moan in horror.

She had ripped the man apart with her magic, his remains now coating the walls, the ground and Miraveh herself.