They set off as soon as Tia felt the storm fall. Enlil reached the target much quicker than either of them had anticipated; Tia supposed all of his physical training had effectively moulded him into a warrior. Contrast to the spindly, half-starved runaway from before, he was now broad and sturdy, with bulking muscles. Mommu had grown, too. Where he would have struggled to keep up with lithe, energetic Tia not two years ago, he now was riding his carrier at the same speed as her, his thinned face turned ahead with grim determination. His bumbling innocence had gone, too.

It made Tia rather sad seeing how much everyone had changed, as if she had lost something. The speculation puzzled her. Putting it aside, she urged her creature on, screwing her eyes up against the sand flying in the air. Her cloak, which was a magenta and shorter version to the apprentice’s one that she used to wear, rippled behind her.

The geography of their surrounding was becoming increasingly familiar as they rode on. She started to recognise some of the rock faces, fallen trees, and sandstone structures. This was the scene before her eyes every morning and night during her year at Ptarmigan Fortress, Hearing twice daily with diligence.

The sense of having returned home was strong, even if this was not quite Mooncliffe. The high stone walls stood proudly along the top of the cragged cliff edge; the lookout spots in the sides staring like eyes as the pair rode past. The fortress had always been busy whenever Tia had been there. The sounds of people barking orders and of marching feet would frequently be heard, but at that moment all they could hear was eerie silence. They had all but left the cries and clangs of the battle behind.

“I will Sing to you from ahead, Tia,” said Mommu, giving her a wobbly smile. She nodded.

“Be safe, Mommu,” she answered, gripping her staff in her right hand and guiding her carrier to an overlooking edge. Mommu urged his animal ahead in a canter, his curls bouncing in the wind. The sounds of hooves died away in the distance. Tia’s carrier snuffled, eyeing the precipice.

The wind had weakened to just a slight, chilly breeze. It was still cold; the high spot where she was standing gave her little shelter. Her face tingled as the air wafted past her sweaty face. Her gloved left hand tightened around the reins as she shivered. The coral stone at the top of her staff glistened in the sunlight; where the colour of the Wind gem flowed deep blue and gentle, the Gwentian stone appeared to burn with fire. There was no doubt that Mister Kishar’s staff was different to her original one, but this one appeared to be more powerful, and she was grateful for that.

It was a long way down. Just peering over the edge gave Tia a rush of adrenaline. Mommu would probably have felt dizzy, but the sheer drop was exhilarating. She could see each individual, tiny piece of rock and sand at the bottom, far below.  The small desert creatures crept around the bottom, darting from shadow to shadow. The dried river bed ran from the far right, where Mommu had gone, to the far left, along the Dernexan-Gwentian border where it would eventually emerge on an incline, opening up to the Nabudice Desert at the Gwentian-Mawlinese border.

Her gaze ran along the vertical surfaces of the walls over the edge. She needed to find something to impede the marching army. The dried riverbed below revealed a narrow path, only wide enough for four men to stride abreast before it rose steeply on either side. She could see tiny holes in the rising wall, which had allowed pitiful levels of air passage for the prisoners in the underground dungeons of the city. All they would have been able to see were the shadows cast by the cliff overhead and the sandstone surfaces.

Piles of rocks littered the edges, both on her side of the crevice and on the other side. This area was so prone to rockslides it would not be a huge challenge to cause an avalanche, permanently blocking the path. The soldiers would have no choice but to retreat back the way they came. The long and winding path would delay them for several hours, but not permanently.

They are on their way, Tia, she heard Mommu’s voice in the Wind

She gave herself a good view over the great dip. The rock surface beneath her thick hide boots was uneven; just a misstep could send her careering over the side. Planting her new staff on the ground beside her, she closed her eyes, evening out her breathing and sensing the flow of the Wind.

She timed it perfectly. When the soldiers’ marching footsteps and heavy breathing came from directly below her, she released the energy she had stockpiled. Her hood was ripped back from her head and her cloak fluttered as she directed the flow. The Wind obeyed, ramming with great power at the rocks lying on the edges and sending them tumbling down into the crevice.

Deep rumbles and cracks reached her ears as the heavy lumps crashed their way down. She heard yells of alarm and panic, but she kept calling to the Wind. She sent one side of the collection falling down before redirecting the gust to the left. Maintaining the energy level as best as she could, she Cast again. The Wind yielded to her commands, turning around, blowing more boulders down at the far side and sending them down the tail end of the marching army, enclosing them in the little passage between the two heaps of boulders. More cries filled the air, but to her relief, she heard no screams of pain.

The staff felt extraordinary warm in her hand. Adding to her relief was how this new staff hadn’t broken, even though she was using yet another spell she had decoded from the Book of Wind. She patted the front of her tunic, satisfied by the leather-bound tome sitting securely on her chest. She de-escalated the energy flow, feeling the Wind ebb away, and then dispelled it completely. The music returned back to its natural state.

She didn’t dare look over the edge or she risked being attacked, but she turned her ears to the side, listening to the anxious conversations down below. Nobody was hurt by the falling rocks, but the commanders were fretting.

“What do you mean there is no way out? Find a way out or it will be our heads that roll – King Asag had ordered our immediate support!”

“We cannot fail him. You – try and find a fault in these walls, any fault. The rest of you shift these rocks. There will be hell to pay if we do not get there in time.”

But you will not even get there, at all, she thought. Those were the biggest rocks in a hundred-metre radius. Neither man nor beast would be able to move them. Only Wind magic or a torrential flood.

“Let us go, Tia.” She jumped. She hadn’t heard Mommu returning. She jumped back on the carrier and they raced back to the battlefield.

****

Enlil had been right. The Gwentian army and the freed slaves together could hold their own, and they had. The bodies that littered the ground were mostly Mawlinese, their initially shining metal armour broken and blood-stained, with pieces strewn across the sand. Weak moans and coughs could be heard. The smell of death hung heavy in the air.

It seemed surrender from the Mawlinese was inevitable. Tia spotted the familiar muscular figure marching with urgency ahead of them, accompanied by two freed slaves.

“Enlil!” she called, running ahead and barely catching up. She panted as the older boy didn’t slow down for her. “We did it! We–”

“Where is Asag?” he interrupted.

“The Mawlinese king?” Mommu stared in surprise, next to Tia. He wiped sweat from his face, leaving a sand trail across his forehead. “I thought he was in battle?”

“He was. Neither he nor his guards would back down from the fight. He is injured and managed to flee the scene before the finishing blow. The men lost track of him, but he could not have gone far.” The tall boy grimaced. Tia could see small trickles of blood down his arm where he was previously grazed by weapons; the droplets fell into the sand. “We have his Windcaster, but we need the king.”

“Perhaps his Windcaster will know,” she said. “Did you question him?”

“I was not the one who detained him, but the men have him right now. Can you bring me the Windcaster, please?” He turned to the man to his left, who nodded.

Tia felt the anxiety for the first time. They were so close. They could avenge Dernexes and restore the country to its former glory. She could do this, for Master Anu and all the other Masters and Casters, for Humbaba, for the Rathians, for the fallen Gwentians, and the fallen freed men.

Enlil turned and she followed suit. Her eyes fell upon a sorry-looking figure, covered by a tattered, hooded cloak. He was hunched over, having just been forced to the ground by his captor, his hands tied roughly behind his back.

The soldier yanked the hood off the traitor Caster. Tia’s jaw dropped.