Chaos erupted.

Kommora flicked her finger. On cue, all the state mages whose loyalties she'd suspected froze, alert but rooted to the spot. The sudden flood of magic out of her body to activate the runes Maura Woodbead had prepared sucked the air out of Kommora's lungs. She swayed on the spot. Dankworth, Hatman, and the others who remained, roughly half of the original number, paused, on edge.

Bonneville tutted, annoyed.

"You think you're so clever, Kommora Haigh," she called out. "But you're all going to die anyway, so why put up all the fuss?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" said Hatman, his voice reverberating in the hall.

"You'll see." Bonneville smirked, her eyes bright with anticipation. She turned around to leave.

"I'm not done talking to you yet!" Hatman hollered, striding forward. He threw flames towards her, but she didn't even turn around to protect herself. Butterworth also had his back turned. No doubt, judging by the intensity, Hatman only intended to make them stop in their tracks and elaborate rather than to maim -- but the fire hit an invisible wall.

Runes on the archway above the king's mages' heads glowed on contact. Rinoa Gruger had runed their balcony against magic, almost as if she'd predicted the state mages would attack them.

Butterworth glanced over his shoulder, his good eye mischievous.

"It was nice knowing you, mages," he said softly, with triumph, disappearing into the shadows.

Before the remaining mages could shout, the peripheries of the hall erupted in white flames, so hot the ice remains from Bonneville's flash magic vaporised on the spot. The mages shouted, alarmed. The burst mages and those with water-based flash magic acted at once, attempting to summon enough to put the fire out, but the flames grew in intensity. Kommora narrowed her eyes, squinting on the far walls beyond the dancing light. The runes were invisible before when the mages had first set foot within the hall, but now they glowed a mix of orange and violet, lining the entire wall around them. Six locking circles, each with a power-increasing sigil. The runes would not burn for long, but with the immense heat they generated, they didn't need to. It would only be minutes before they were rendered to charcoal.

The state mages shouted in alarm to each other as each of them failed to drench the flames. Where rune magic failed in speed it more than made up for in tenacity and power. This level of rune magic could not be easily taken care of with water alone, nor any capacity of flash or burst magic to overwhelm them, not when the runes themselves still worked.

Sweat poured off Kommora in buckets. Her skin tingled as if they were already on fire, the intensity of the flames digging deep beneath her flesh. The mages' panicked voices were drowned in the roar of the fire. She thumbed the runes in her cloak. They needed a shelter until the runes burned out, but she didn't have one large enough to save them all.

A shower of thuds rained around them from above. The ground shook. Just before the runed flames exploded, huge metal jaws rose from the ground around the group congregated in the centre and swallowed them, plunging them into darkness and an eerie stillness -- and then their world lit up. The metal dome that surrounded them became red hot. The runed flames roared, furious about its cheated targets. The mages yelled, withdrawing from the edges. Kommora could only hold her breath. It was close. Too close.

After what seemed like an age, the dome dissolved away. The remains of throwing knives lay as a puddle of metal on the blackened ground, the last of the violet runes fading.

"Move it!" Kommora yelled, spinning around. The mages that support the king's mages were still rooted to the spot, only their ogling eyes giving away their consciousness. The rest of them hesitated before following. Kommora stormed across the hall and kicked the large double doors open, only to find the soldiers guarding the corridor already knocked out on the ground.

"Bellamy!" Azriel Edevane rushed forward, crying out in relief. Bellamy Southwark and Halen Ashworth stood at the end of the corridor, out of breath and their eyes bright.

"That was your doing, Southwark?" said Hatman, aghast.

"You saved our lives," said Dankworth, nodding with appreciation. "You have my gratitude."

"They're named traitors!" burst out another, furious. "Why aren't you attacking them?"

"They just saved your sorry ass," said Kommora with scorn, whirling around. The man wilted before her gaze. "Pollin and his little pets just left all of us to die in a rune fire, and that's all you have to say? Think for yourself for once, you sorry sack of shit."

She cast a fiery look over the rest of the mages: most looked shaken and bewildered, but none bore any intent to fight back.

"Pollin sentenced us to death without batting an eyelid. He's betrayed Karma and all her people. Are you going to rise to the duties as state mages or are you going to follow his whims like some dog?"

"You were there in Acrise," said Dankworth, his face pale and expression grim. "You heard Butterworth's orders. They spared no-one in Acrise. You still think this is the work of some four rebel mages?"

The rest of the mages glanced at each other, evidently terrified.

"Pull your pants up," snapped Kommora. "Are you a state mage or aren't you?"

Without waiting for an answer, she turned to Southwark and Ashworth.

"You're missing one."

"She's keeping watch outside," said Ashworth, narrowing her eyes. "How did you know about her?"

"I know about all of you rebel mages. What's your plan now?"

"We kill Pollin," said Southwark.

"Good. Then we have something in common."

"You knew we were coming?" Ashworth said, aghast.

Kommora sniffed. "That girl was in the group. I figured Southwark isn't one to leave one of his behind."

"But we were in Acrise. How--" Ashworth broke off, hurrying to catch up as Kommora stalked off to the exit. Kommora rolled her eyes at the persistence. "How could you have planned for our return?"

"I knew you'd returned."

"How?"

"I heard Woodbead and Nithercott were arrested. You were on the same boat as them."

"You couldn't have possibly banked on us going to Acrise."

"Oh? Couldn't I?" Kommora's lips curled as she paused to look at Ashworth. The baby blues were the eyes of one who didn't have qualms about killing when needed, but they were desperately empty.

"You planned for us to be in Acrise? That's not possible."

"Who do you think allowed you to overhear the king's mages' conversation that night?"

Ashworth's jaw snapped shut. Satisfied with the stunned reaction, Kommora kicked open the double doors of the Council of Mages headquarters.

There was the sound of a gun firing and a slab of rock shot up inches from her nose. A crack whipped through the air. She flinched, taking a step back. The stone dissolved away. Dankworth, to her right, lowered his arm and his flash magic.

"What's the meaning of this?" he demanded.

Several military personnel aimed their guns at them from behind their runed motors. The one who fired lifted his head.

"King Pollin issued an official announcement an hour ago," he said, his voice steeled with determination. "You, Kommora Haigh, are hereby declared a traitor of Karma and there is an order to put you to death on sight."

"We need to get to Pollin. He must be stopped," said Ashworth, a throwing knife clutched in her hand.

"We'll cover you," said Dankworth, eyeing the soldiers. "Their orders are to kill you, not us."

"Our duties are to the people," whispered Edevane, the young graduate who'd aligned with the rebel mages. "We can't kill our own. We'll be just as bad as them!"

"We won't kill them," said Dankworth with a grin. "We might be old codgers, but we've still some experience under our belt."

"Just as well Portendorfer isn't here," muttered Hatman, cracking his knuckles. "He'd love to spill the blood of his own, no questions asked."

"I hope you have more reinforcements than this, Kommora," said Southwark, edging Edevane towards the peripheries. "I don't think any number of mages can fight against the entire Karman army."

Kommora merely grimaced.

"Sorry, gents," called out Dankworth. "I'm afraid your orders stop right here."

"Our orders are for Haigh's head, Mage Dankworth," was the reply. "We have no intention of harming you or any of the other mages."

"I'm afraid you misunderstand." Dankworth's hands curled into fists and he punched both of them upwards. The ground trembled and a wall shuddered its way up, more solid than the flash version. The men shouted in alarm. "Go."

Kommora took off. Southwark, Ashworth, and Edevane followed closely. Most of the other mages followed, disoriented by their role in the country now that Pollin had left them for dead.

"Move your asses," Kommora said over her shoulder, making her way down the stony steps onto the main streets of Benover.

Before she could utter another word, more reinforcements came flooding round the corner. They fell into formation, guns drawn at the ready. The other mages shouted in alarm, magic at their fingertips. Southwark tutted in frustration, drawing out runes. Halen Ashworth whipped out a handful of throwing knives, the runes wrapped around their handles, ready to fly.

"Wait," said Kommora, holding up a hand. Southwark threw her an alarmed look. The soldiers kept their weapons trained but none of them fired.

"You're shitting me," hissed Ashworth. Her knives clinked against each other. "We have a second squadron on us and she wants us to--"

Southwark hushed her, his gaze fixed on Kommora. A man, dressed in embellished military uniform, stepped forward before her. He had aged significantly since she last saw him, the salt-and-pepper hair now snow-white, but beneath the wizened features those piercing blue-green eyes were bright and astute as she'd remembered.

"Took you long enough," she said with a snort. Woodbead smiled, the wrinkles deepening at the corners of his eyes and mouth.

"Bolliver only just got the message to me after the summoning went out," he said, holding out a scroll pinched in his callused fingers and then pocketed it. "I dare say I made it just in time."

Ashworth frowned, glancing between Kommora and the commander general.

"That's Edgard Woodbead," said Southwark, answering the unasked question. He stood a little straighter, a gleam in his eyes. "Commander of the soldiers' hearts. We may stand a chance after all."

"You seemed to have wreaked plenty of havoc during my absence, Kommora," said Woodbead. "I hardly recognise my beloved Benover any more."

"You have the king's mages to thank for that. They're quite keen to wipe Karma off the face of the earth."

Woodbead's lips pressed tight together. "So they have made their move."

"They just tried to kill most of the state mages and released orders for my head."

"They're burning their own arsenal? How unusual." He didn't seem surprised, despite his words.

"You're the one who said it wasn't like Pollin to start recruiting for war when he'd been so vocal about maintaining the border and not losing lives."

"Exactly. A peace campaigner suddenly invokes conscription and involves more state mages than any of his predecessors in the military -- and now he's burning his own arsenal? Has anyone replaced Kristen Harred yet in the king's mages' circle?"

"No."

"Huh." Again, Woodbead appeared unsurprised. He nodded without a word.

"Be careful, Woodbead. Acrise has fallen. The Hannan forces might be marching as we speak."

"Oh, no, my friend. Acrise still stands. Grader got in touch with me and told me of your little ingenious plan with the negating rune."

Kommora snorted. "I had my hunches about the runes going missing. You were right all along."

"Right. You go after Pollin. I'll round up the rest of the soldiers. We won't let Pollin and his cronies win again."

Without a word, Woodbead held out a small runed gun. Kommora pocketed it. With another nod, Woodbead strode on ahead. The soldiers flocked after him, determination on their faces. Kommora led her group in the opposite direction.

The triple-storey stone houses had their windows shut. The usual hubbub associated with a late working afternoon was disturbingly absent. The streets were almost empty, save for a few stragglers hurrying by. She paused, narrowing her eyes. Something was amiss. And then she saw what was wrong.

They looked like a swarm of ants at first, but as they scuttled closer, Kommora realised they were humanoid, but reminded her more of the mutated creatures that roam the wastelands near Teirrin. The noises raised hairs on her arms as they scuttled over rooftops and poured out of alleyways. Hundreds of them.

"Nithercott's creatures are here as well?" Ashworth said, alarmed, whipping the knives again.  

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