"That saves me a job, ladies," said Domic Butterworth, grinning.

Halen Ashworth glared at him. Seeing him and hearing his voice made her shudder involuntarily, reminding her of that night when Rinoa Gruger's indigo runes made her relive all the nightmares she'd had. Her teammates dead. She and a solitary few who'd barely survived the fall of Acrise eighteen years ago, abandoned and forsaken by the failed rescue attempts for the few mages that remained there. The suffocating helplessness and despair as she watched, from a crumbling tower, the retreating troops from Benover. The stench of the rotting body of her brother, Craigen, who'd pushed her out of the way before part of the roof collapsed on him. A probationary mage like her shouldn't have survived that, but she did, against the odds, despite not deserving it.

She forced her mind away from reliving those images. Gruger knew that had been her weakness and happily exploited it, extracting valuable information from her tortured mind whilst making her smell the reeking bodies mingled with smoke and taste the blood and sweat once more. Halen forced herself to focus on Butterworth and his drooping, scarred right eyelid and the small blisters forming along his cheeks from the sparks of flash magic.

It seemed the Nithercott girl gave him a good beating. She scanned the scorched indent on the brick wall behind Butterworth. Flash magic. She hadn't realised the girl was capable of flash. She might be as dangerous as Kristen Harred yet.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she retorted. She wasn't going to rise to his bait. He'd tried the same jibes when they were at Acrise.

"Nithercott. She's going exactly where we want her." He grinned. "Now, let's not spoil the surprise."

Halen didn't wait for an invitation. She swung her arm out, three throwing knives flying at him in succession. The first two glowed red-orange and exploded along the shafts, spraying shrapnel at Butterworth. He flung his arm upwards; a torrent of water in the form of burst magic swept most of them away and he dodged the rest. The third glowed violet as it sliced through the water and disappeared.

"So that's where Nithercott picked up those little tricks," he said with a sniff.

Halen dashed forward without another word, knives glinting in her hands. Butterworth threw out blast after blast of steam before bringing the white smoke into a close field around him. The steam billowed outwards, turning the area foggy without scorching. Halen narrowed her eyes. If Butterworth could make the entire area burn, he easily would. That must mean he couldn't cover such a large area.

"Too bad, Ashworth," came Butterworth's voice from closer than she expected. She leapt backwards and threw a knife at where she thought he was, only to hear the clatter of metal against brick. "For someone like you to rely so much on what you see, you're out of luck."

Halen forced her breath to slow. He was right; she couldn't find him. She closed her eyes, focusing on the sound of his footstep. Shallow, rasping breaths she knew well came from behind -- Tesla's. And before her -- nothing.

No, there was something. Butterworth kept still, waiting for her next move. Halen knelt down and picked up a handful of pebbles and threw them to her side. On cue, the clatter alerted Butterworth and he shifted ever so slightly to aim his steam. Halen launched a series of knives into where she'd heard him, clapping her hands. They all glowed red in an arc and exploded, sending dust flying in every direction. She followed, darting over the piles of rubble with feet light as feathers, aiming for the shadow that must be Butterworth, who had bent down to protect himself from the falling rocks. Up close, his steam would be formidable -- but it wouldn't matter if she were faster. She swung a kick at him, a blue rune gripped in her fist.

The steam parted and she met his bespectacled, triumphant eyes. A grin curled across his scarred lips. From behind Buttterworth, Jarsdel -- she hadn't realised he was still conscious -- threw his hand forward and a puff of black dust showered Butterworth's arm and her leg. Before Halen could react, a searing pain tore through her leg. She screamed, withdrawing and crashing onto the floor. The nose-curling scent of burnt flesh made her gag. Tears streamed down her face. Through hazy vision, she saw Jarsdel withdraw, limping and bruised-faced, into the shadows of the tunnel. A smug Butterworth stood over her, Jarsdel's caustic dust washing off in his steam.

Halen grimaced and made to activate the blue rune. Before she could focus, he'd sent a torrent of boiling water onto her outstretched hand. She screamed, agony shearing through the nerve fibres in her flesh.

"Not so tough now, with one arm and one leg down, eh, Ashworth?" he said in a mild voice, tilting his head. He raised his hand, little puffs of steam dancing on his fingertips. "I wonder what we shall go for next? Shall I boil the water in your eyeballs? Or send fresh steam into your lungs? Or vaporise everything on the inside? So many options."

"So now your true colours come out," Halen spat, unable to suppress a grunt of pain. Butterworth's flash dissipated and he grinned, a most grotesque face. Jarsdel. She hadn't expected him to still be able to fight; he must have feigned unconsciousness and Butterworth used his steam to shield him when she and Tesla arrived.

"No, this was always my intention. Nithercott had it easy because it was warranted. Nighy, I ensured I had my fun."

Halen's eyes flashed. How she longed to rip that tongue out. "You bastard."

"Ah... Nighy put up a fight, the little cow. Left quite the mark." He pointed at his scar. "You, however..."

He let the words hang for extra effect.

"You can die, as far as any of us are concerned." He shrugged.

"And you call yourself a king's mage. You're a pathetic example of us all."

"I never considered myself on your level, Ashworth. Being a dog of the kingdom was never my intention. You say you're with comrades with your little rebel mages' clique, but the state mages never considered you allies either; don't kid yourself."

"You're wrong," she rasped. She'd seen it: the revelation and new-found determination on the lost state mages' faces after Pollin had tried to kill them all. They had different, personal goals back then. Now, they were united. They wanted to save Karma and fight for her. They had a purpose. "We're united against a common cause. Against the likes of you."

His eye narrowed. "We'll see about that."

He raised his hand, the intent to drown her in steam evident, but nothing happened. A gunshot cracked through the air, striking him in the shoulder. With a cry of surprise, he stumbled backwards, more taken aback by the change in event than his injury. He looked up, eyes widening at Felora's gun aimed straight for him. With a foul word, he threw his hand forward again with a purposeful blink, but the steam did not come. The second shot struck him in the right upper chest. He screamed. Blood blossomed over his dark brown uniform.

"Not again... Relish, you bitch!" he seethed.

Halen panted, groaning with pain. Tesla must have taken the time to fill the area with her desiccants, taking away Butterworth's arsenal.

"I'd rather not kill the two of you right now," he said with a growl. "She wanted as many mages alive for as long as possible. Guess we can spare two more...!"

Sand seeped in from between the walls and up Butterworth's legs. He leapt back, cursing and wheezing. Tesla burst forth from behind. She charged straight at him and swung a sand-laden fist. Butterworth blocked it and struck back. Tesla attacked like a rabid animal, swinging wild punches and slinging kicks wherever there was an opening, forcing Butterworth back. Several of his punches struck her chin and lips. Blood sprayed from her mouth. She ignored it, using those close moments to slam rock-hard fists into his abdomen, making him grunt and double up.

Tesla hopped back and glanced at Halen anxiously, her own blood dripping onto the floor.

"I'm okay, Tesla," she said through gritted teeth. "Focus on him."

Without a word, Tesla switched her attention back to Butterworth.

"What an obedient little dog," he said, all the laughter gone from his demeanour. He winced as he straightened up, clutching his chest, a bruise forming on his left cheek and eye socket. His hand came away bloody from the gunshot wounds. "Who fixed your face, Relish? I thought I did a pretty good job."

"The Nithercott girl."

Butterworth scoffed. "As if a green rune could heal steam burns that quickly."

"It wasn't a green rune."

His brows knitted together before bursting out laughing.

"Please! If you're talking about that whackjob from Bicknor that has magic fingers for cripples, she's long dead. Come, now. It's selfish to keep such a good secret to yourself."

"It's not a secret. Seiren Nithercott healed me with core energy magic."

"Core energy magic is dead. Loren Rummage was the only user and I killed her personally." His voice was harsh. Halen frowned, puzzled. Scared. He was scared.

"Then it must be some fancy new magic Nithercott used then, because my face is as a good as new." Without further ado, Tesla slammed her palms together. The thick coat of sand on the walls on either sides of Butterworth shot forth, colliding in the middle. Butterworth leapt back with a grunt, stripped of a source of his flash magic. No, not quite stripped. Halen sat up, panting and grimacing from the pain. There was always water and steam.

Tesla and Butterworth eyed each other, injured, exhausted, and evenly matched.

"What are you up to, Butterworth?" Halen said, getting to her trembling feet. She was of limited use, but she was an extra body. Perhaps her presence could tip the situation in their favour, somehow. "Summoning us all here, trying to kill us all, and now you're saying she -- I'm assuming Kristen Harred -- wants us alive? For what?"

"You won't live to find out, so I guess I can tell you." He smirked. He kept a close eye on the two of them, spinning one of her knives in his hand. Halen cursed in her mind; she'd hoped getting him to brag about his plans would get him sufficiently distracted, but her last knife had gone and Tesla was using all the magic she had to keep the room desiccated. "It's simple: people don't deserve magic. We're just taking back what is rightfully ours as decreed by Karma."

"Karma... as in history's Karma?"

"All these people that don't deserve that magic will just get it returned to those that do. Just like in the old days when Karma had all the magic and the people had none. It's quite simple. We don't need so many mages. We don't need threats to our peaceful system."

They could have been discussing lunch.

"Be proud. You're dying for a greater cause."

On cue, Butterworth sliced at his wrist and let out a yelp. Blood spurted. He threw out his uninjured arm, holding out a glistening throwing knife. Blood shot from the wrist he'd purposefully sliced open, the liquid vaporising on the spot and flying at them. The solutes from his blood fell to the ground in faint pitter-patters. Tesla jumped before Halen and crossed her arms before her, reacting too slowly to protect herself with flash. Steam scorched her forearms. She screamed, but around them the sand held, continuing to dry out the atmosphere. Halen swallowed; her throat was like the desert and her skin prickled from the desiccated atmosphere.

Butterworth spun the knife around and scored all the way up his forearm, opening the wound further. The blood spewed. He threw out his hand. Blood sprayed into Tesla's eyes the moment she lowered her arms, making her wince, blinded. Halen shouted in warning. Butterworth gestured and the blood vaporised. Tesla shrieked as the droplets evaporated and scorched her, stumbling backwards. Halen dived forward, picking up a fallen knife, and hurled it at Butterworth. The blade whistled and struck true directly into the side of his neck. His eyes bulged. His magic stopped. He clapped his hand over the wound, his mouth opening almost comically.

The surprise turned into fury. He grabbed the knife and yanked it out. Blood sprayed all over the wall. His face was deathly pale. He stumbled, clammy and appearing about to pass out. He bared his teeth, intent to kill evident. Blood poured, splashing over him and turning into steam.

Tesla leapt forward, pushing Halen aside.

"Tesla, no!"

She crashed into Butterworth and they collapsed in a heap. The acrid stench of scorched flesh mixed with the metallic scent of raw blood. The air filled with the sounds of shuddering gasps and bubbles rising and popping, and then fell silent, save for the gentle cascade of desiccant falling from the walls.

"Tesla!" Halen scrambled forward, swallowing a cry as she used her injured arm and leg.

She tugged her comrade off. Butterworth's eyes stared, glassy, up at the ceiling. His cheek sank in, the skin cracking and flaking as they dried. The blood pool around him crusted, clotted into lumps from contact with the desiccants. Halen examined Tesla in despair. Haemoserous fluid seeped through the front of her black uniform, the torn areas revealing the severe burns that spread all the way down into her abdomen. Her cheeks were deathly pale, peppered by blisters from the blood spray attack.

"You fool," Halen whispered, cradling her head. Tesla gave a small smile, her dark brown eyes locked onto Halen's. She touched Halen's cheek; her fingers were ice-cold. "Why did you do that?"

"I would do anything... for you," Tesla croaked. Halen shook her head, blinking back tears.

"Such a fool. Why couldn't you value your own life? We spoke about this!" Halen bit her lips. "I'll sketch a green rune. It'll keep you going until we find Nithercott and she can use chaos magic again--"

Tesla shook her head. Blood bubbled out of the corner of her mouth.

"I don't... have the time for that."

"But why? They're just burns! They're on the outside!"

"Butterworth... was true to his word. He got his hand on me." She gestured weakly at her abdomen. "There's... not much time now."

Halen swallowed a sob and lowered her head, touching her forehead with Tesla's.

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