Her voice resonated through the earstone, and when Riniock held it closer, his own voice seemed to transmit effortlessly.
'It is me,' Linry confirmed, a soft giggle accompanying her words.
Riniock's face lit up, a stark contrast to Niann's deepening scowl. Just moments ago, Niann had shared in his excitement over Riniock's successful first wind-to-frost spell, yet now, his expression soured – not that Riniock noticed.
'Where are you?' Linry asked.
'Outside, training with my friend, Niann,' he replied, puzzled. 'Why?'
'Return…now, Riniock!'
Her voice cracked with urgency, laced with an unease that sent a chill through him. He and Niann exchanged tense glances, a shared sense of foreboding settling between them.
Riniock pressed the earstone against his lips. 'What's wrong?'
'Take your friend and come back to Ikshar immediately! Master Fladd just left with a search party. They refused to let me join, which can only mean one thing – they're looking for you.'
Niann stiffened at the revelation, quickly gathering their belongings whilst Riniock remained focused on the conversation.
'Which direction did he go?' Riniock asked, his mind already piecing together a plan. He knew Fladd's strength was formidable, but his subordinates might be less of a challenge. If he could avoid Fladd directly and instead intercept others from the party, he might stand a better chance.
'He headed west,' Linry answered.
'Understood. I'm coming back. Thank you, Linry.'
'Please, stay safe.'
'Don't worry – I will.'
Niann hurriedly gathered their belongings, thrusting Riniock's effects into his hands with a palpable urgency. Whether it stemmed from the looming threat of Master Fladd or his inexplicable irritation towards Linry, even he couldn't say for certain.
Riniock slung his gear over his shoulder and immediately started moving, steering clear of the academy's western perimeter.
Linry's voice still crackled through the earstone, though he no longer held it to his ear. 'Whatever you do, don't engage him. Master Fladd has slain maegis far stronger than you.'
'I'm not that reckless,' Riniock shot back, already picking up the pace alongside Niann. 'Do me a favour – find Siegmun Torash and tell him what's happening. He'll know what to do.'
'I'll track him down. Just head straight for the academy.'
A faint crackle of static signalled the end of the transmission. Riniock pocketed the earstone and pressed forward, both he and Niann sprinting as if a dragon were hot on their heels.
Niann's every step churned the sand beneath him, forcing him to exert twice the effort. In contrast, Riniock glided over the shifting ground with practiced ease, barely disturbing the surface – a result of mastering Dune Drift from Linry's manuals.
Even so, he paused occasionally, waiting for Niann to catch up before forging ahead once more.
Niann's breath came in ragged gasps, his movements sluggish as exhaustion took hold. Each step demanded twice the usual effort, and the relentless heat drained what little stamina he had left. Eventually, even lifting his head became a struggle.
'Go on without me,' he panted. 'They're after you, not me. I'll find my own way back.'
'Don't be ridiculous,' Riniock shot back. 'If they catch you, they won't hesitate to kill you.'
'Just leave, Riniock!'
'Not happening.' Without another word, Riniock bent down, grabbed Niann's arm, and hoisted him up, draping him over his shoulder. 'If I have to die, I'd rather do it with you by my side.'
'Riniock –' Niann swallowed his words, his ears perking.
A distant voice cut through the dunes, its ominous tone sending a chill down their spines. The words carried an eerie weight, laced with power, and before they could react, the ground trembled beneath them.
Somewhere unseen, someone was casting a spell.
Both of them snapped their heads around, frantically searching for the source. Then, without warning, the sand erupted into the air, swirling in violent, chaotic currents. Within seconds, the sky darkened, shrouded by a suffocating storm of airborne grains.
In their moment of carelessness, they lost sight of the academy. No matter which way they turned, the sun was obscured, stripping them of any sense of direction.
They were stranded.
'This isn't natural,' Niann quickly deduced. 'That incantation we heard – this storm is their doing.'
Riniock swallowed hard. 'Magick can do this?'
'As long as the caster maintains focus, keeps the incantation going, and has enough odh to sustain it, yes. We're trapped inside it.'
They glanced around, searching desperately for a way out. There was none.
'No ordinary maegi could conjure something on this scale,' Niann muttered.
'Must be Fladd…' Riniock cursed under his breath.
'Or someone just as powerful. For all we know, Fladd is already hunting you in this storm.'
'Damn it all to Murat…' Riniock clenched his fists. 'What do we do now?'
Perched atop a jagged, rock-strewn cliff, two figures stood against the raging winds. One stood near the edge, arms outstretched, lips moving in a steady murmur. The other lingered further back, arms crossed, waiting.
Below them, the land vanished beneath a thick, swirling veil of beige, the sandstorm consuming everything in its path. Their heavy hoods flapped violently, caught in the tempest they had unleashed.
As the storm intensified, the hooded figure at the back stepped away. 'Keep it going until I give the signal. I owe you one.'
The maegi casting the spell showed no sign of acknowledgment, his voice a constant whisper of incantations. He remained utterly still, his focus unshaken, his resolve unwavering.
The hooded man turned to the others. 'Fan out and find him. If you do, don't engage. He's slaughtered too many of ours already. Call for reinforcements immediately.'
The gathered figures nodded in silent obedience.
One of them hesitated. 'And what of anyone else, Master Fladd?'
'If you don't recognise them, they're expendable.'
'Then –'
'Spare them or kill them,' Fladd uttered coldly. 'I leave that to everyone's discretion.'
'As you command, master.'
Silent as wraiths, the groups dispersed in all directions, each unit consisting of three maegis – a precaution against unexpected resistance.
Only Fladd moved alone, striding through the raging storm with unshaken confidence. The swirling sands barely hindered him. Whilst others struggled against the spell's chaotic interference, their odh circulation disrupted, Fladd pressed forward effortlessly. Even his own allies faltered under the storm's influence, but he remained untouched.
The plan was flawless.
To avoid provoking Gorlea, he had orchestrated every detail with precision. The sandstorm ensured they remained unseen, and the sheer number of pursuers made Riniock's capture inevitable. If all went according to plan, they would kill him, bury the body, and be gone before anyone even realised he was missing.
Fladd had never been more determined to find Riniock.
Deeper within the storm, the Ikshari disciples scoured the landscape at an astonishing pace. Their earstones, tethered for constant communication, crackled with updates as each team cleared their assigned sector.
One team in particular stumbled upon clear signs of disturbed sand. The patterns suggested that more than one person had lingered there for some time.
'Faint tracks spotted,' one of the three reported through the earstone. 'Pursuing them, north of the main cliff.'
'Understood,' came a response. 'We should be there within a quarter-hour.'
The trio exchanged glances before proceeding along the faint trail.
As they advanced, they relayed continuous updates, meticulously noting every detail they uncovered. Their vigilance was crucial – any mistake on their part would surely incur their master's wrath.
'We've found another sign. The tracks widen here…looks like they stopped to rest.'
'Good. Keep following the trail. We're closing in.'
Tucking away the earstone, the disciples pressed forward, their eyes scanning for the next clue. Before long, the tracks split in two different directions.
One of them immediately reached for the device. 'The trail diverges. We can confirm two individuals.'
'Hold your position,' the voice on the other end instructed. 'We'll split up once we arrive.'
'Understood. We're standing by.'
Without warning, one of them collapsed with a sharp, guttural groan. The other two whirled around, startled, immediately assuming defensive stances. Without hesitation, they called for reinforcements, reporting a man down.
'Was he killed?' the voice on the other end of the earstone inquired.
He was still breathing, but before they could answer, an agonised scream tore from his lungs.
'Negative. He's alive, but his arm…it's twisted – completely dislocated backward. It happened in an instant.'
One of them narrowed his eyes, scanning the storm around them. 'A wind-attribute spell. I barely caught it, but I saw it.'
The other nodded grimly. 'Wind spells can cut through this storm without resistance, but their strength is diminished. Whoever cast that attack was aiming to kill – but they must not have accounted for that loss in power.'
They remained on high alert. In this blinding haze, visibility was non-existent. Which raised a terrifying question – how had their attacker seen them without revealing themselves?
No logical answer presented itself.
Suddenly, a sharp whistling cut through the sandstorm, hurtling towards their position. This time, they were ready. One of them raised a ward, the translucent barrier flaring to life just in time to intercept the projectile. The other retaliated instantly, launching a counterattack towards the source of the spell.
Silence followed.
Did they hit their mark? Or had their target simply vanished into the storm once more?
Before they could dwell on it, multiple wind projectiles materialised around them, twisting unpredictably, their erratic movements making it impossible to pinpoint the caster's position.
They barely had time to react. Both of them raised their wards, bracing as the barrage of attacks struck their shimmering defences. The impact rippled through their bodies, their strength waning under the relentless assault.
Then, the inevitable happened.
One of them faltered. His ward flickered for a fraction of a second – just enough time for a wind blade to slip through, slicing across his throat. The cut was shallow but deep enough to send him staggering, choking on his own blood.
His remaining ally turned, exposing his back for the briefest moment. A spell struck him squarely in the spine, sending him hurtling forward. Before he could recover, another, far deadlier projectile speared through the back of his skull, killing him instantly.
The final blow came swiftly.
A lone wind spell pierced through the storm, striking the first, already wounded maegi in the chest. His body jerked violently – then went still.
All three pursuers were killed.
The storm swallowed the silence that followed. Two figures emerged from the dense storm, moving cautiously towards the fallen bodies.
Niann gagged, turning away, but Riniock stood over the corpses, his expression unreadable. In his hand, the earstone crackled with noise, transmitting the voices of the search party directly to him.
'I don't know how you managed to tap into their tether, but it was useful,' Riniock said, pleased.
Niann wiped his face, his stomach churning, throat raw. 'Once you understand the pattern, it's not that difficult.'
Riniock hummed in response, rifling through the dead men's pockets. 'We should move. More are coming.'
Niann swallowed hard and nodded, quickly falling into step beside him.
The constant stream of reports had worked to their advantage, allowing them to anticipate enemy movements and navigate around their pursuers. Every voice over the tether was accounted for – except one.
Master Fladd's voice.
The thought alone was unsettling. A man of his calibre, powerful, stalking in complete silence, listening, and unseen.
A shadow of death prowling the rock barren.