Azure Sav, a wraith spawned during the Battle of Wild Barrows, is commonly regarded as the most dangerous ?ther being to have existed in Gerios, barring those spawned during the Second Bane.

  It is estimated to have killed at least four hundred people, both civilians and soldiers, before it was finally destroyed by Emperor Nakseem's elite weaver cadre. It is unknown how many losses the cadre sustained; the number was likely suppressed to keep up morale. Perhaps telling, however, is that the cadre did not reappear until years later at the Battle of Hakarr, where they failed to prevent Nakseem's death.

  Excerpt from 'Ozam's Compendium of ?ther Beings'

  “Three days,” Dovell said as he clenched a sharpening stone in his hand. “It has been on the loose for three days.” He was sitting in the main room of the barracks together with the rest of his lance after yet another fruitless day of attempting to locate the wraith. “Who knows how many spells it knows by now?”

  “Can't be anything dangerous,” Nissek said, rolling his shoulders to remove stiffness. “After it escaped from us, nobody saw it again. Honestly speaking, sir, I doubt it's still in the city.”

  “It has to be in the city,” Dovell replied, waving dismissively. “Hiding somewhere. The hinterlands would have been in uproar otherwise. There is no way a thing like that gets around without anyone seeing it. This isn't the Wastes, with kivors of wild and unclaimed lands.”

  Nobody commented on that, as everyone knew what the implication was if Dovell's claim was true. Not only had the wraith realized it should flee from them, it understood that it should hide as well.

  That thing became too smart, too soon, Dovell thought, running the sharpening stone across his dagger a couple of times. While it didn't always happen that a wraith regained some of the faculties of its human base, it happened often enough for Dovell to worry about it. Who knows what will happen when the skills of a guard start to reassert themselves?

  Merely thinking about it made him acutely feel his exhaustion. Three days of uninterrupted searching had caused his limbs to feel twice as heavy.

  I'm getting too old for this.

  Ten years ago, he would have kept the current pace without trouble, but it appeared that time had taken its toll. In two moons he would turn thirty-nine. Barely middle-aged, yet being a guard-captain was a demanding job. They usually retired from active duty around forty due to the difficulty of finding replacements. Natural tier-four channellers were rare, after all; only one in every twenty thousand people, and only a small fraction of that number would make a suitable royal guard.

  All the men in my lance are still in their twenties, with the exception of Harra who turned thirty last year. The thought made him feel even older, and he sat there for a while, pondering his future before shaking it off. Retirement was not something to think about during a time of crisis.

  “Didn't Third Lance find a wake that could be our wraith?” Tobiac asked, breaking the silence. “I thought I heard Renn say something about that.”

  “That turned out to be something else,” Nissek said. “Pack of corpse hounds.”

  Tobiac's face twisted in disgust. “More of them? How many of those things did we put down so far? Twenty? Thirty? How many dogs lived in River's End?”

  “Be glad that we are finished with the demons at least,” Dovell said. “The living ones, that is.”

  After they had withdrawn from the area, they had returned in force two days later after the initial chaos in the city had subsided. The perimeter had been shrunk until it encompassed only the affected houses, and Fifth and Sixth Lance did a house-by-house sweep of the area while Third Lance covered the streets and the surrounding area.

  Yet even now, reports about horrors and ghasts, from districts and quarters nowhere near River's End, kept pouring in. Of all the living things in River's End, a substantial amount of them had survived their transmogrification and had spread out over the city, in search of ?ther and other things that suited their particular tastes.

  “Nissek,” Dovell said. “Did you hear from Fourth Lance yet? What's the state of the afflicted area itself? How many curses?”

  “They have no idea,” Nissek answered with a grim look. “And that's not because they couldn't find them, but because there are so many. Going into the area without protection is suicide. They're worried that some will drift outside the perimeter as well.”

  As if things weren't bad enough.

  “They got help from all the magic guilds I noticed,” Tobiac said. “I saw a lot of magistrae on the streets.”

  Dovell huffed. “Of course they did. The Daughters didn't do themselves any favours with their actions during the last weeks, and don't even get me started on Callium. They'd do anything to get in the King's good graces again.”

  “What's going to happen to Callium anyway?” Bastian asked. “They're disbanded, right? Yet I still see them in the streets wearing their orange robes.”

  “Disbanding doesn't happen overnight,” Nissek said. “It takes time to properly wind everything down. It took several weeks before Chyn Kotia's disbanding was completed. Several years, if you include the tearing down of the Palantir.”

  “And they hadn't the additional problem of a blowout aftermath to deal with,” Dovell added. “The King even had to assign Karan de Ekkar to oversee the disbanding because there simply wasn't anyone else available.” The disgust dripped from Dovell's voice.

  “He did warn us about what was happening,” Tobiac said.

  Dovell had to stop himself from glaring at Tobiac. “That's about the only good thing he did in this entire mess, which he in part helped cause.”

  “He also tossed his own guild into the tempest,” Rooy added. “Callium being gone is a good thing, right?”

  Dovell huffed. “The guild may be gone, but the people that were part of it aren't. There will be a new guild forming from Callium's remnants soon enough. And it will be more of the same, only perhaps less virulent this time with Callium's inner circle gone. So I'll give you that.”

  He tossed the sharpening stone on the table and sheathed his dagger. “But enough about things that have already happened. In one hour we need to be back in River's End to finish our sweep. There are only a handful of houses left, and I want this done today in the little daylight we have left. I want every horror or ghast that's left there destroyed. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, sir,” the men replied in unison.

  “Speaking of ghasts, sir,” Rooy said. “What are we going to do with this one?” He pushed the glass jar that held the spider ghast they retrieved from the sanctum forward. “We don't have the means to study it, so should we just put an end to it?”

  Dovell leaned forward and picked up the jar. The ghast inside turned towards his hand, yet no longer made any threatening gestures. It had learned that the movements outside its glass prison could not affect it.

  What to do with this thing indeed, he thought as he brought the jar close to his face and stared into the dark, grey baubles that were the spider's eyes.

  “No,” he eventually said. “Not this one. This one still has a mystery behind it that requires a resolution.”

  “Perhaps we should arrange for some more permanent accommodation then?” Rooy suggested. “I did some reading on ghasts, but there aren't any books that spell out how to take care of one. So far I've just used charged sun sigils for it to drain, but I don't know if that will keep it alive.”

  “There should be larger vivaria somewhere among White Candle's stored goods,” Nissek said. “And if not there, then Callium should have at least one.”

  Dovell shook the jar, causing the spider to lose its footing and skitter around. “Put in a request with the quartermaster. We can set it up in the secondary storage room of the barracks and leave it there until we get this damned blowout business sorted out.”

  The cooks entered carrying the men’s dinner and they set to eating.

  Later that evening, Dovell and the others were getting ready when a guard from First Lance entered the barracks.

  “Fabian,” Dovell said, nodding a greeting. “Is there something wrong?” First Lance had its quarters in the royal palace, and they rarely showed themselves in the barracks.

  “His majesty wishes to speak with you, Guard-captain,” Fabian said.

  “Can it wait until dark? We need to finish the sweep of the afflicted area.”

  “It's urgent, sir,” Fabian said. “Very urgent.”

  Dovell felt a shiver cross over his back. The men of First Lance were veterans all, and the most unshakable of the entire Royal Guard by far. Yet Fabian's voice and bearing betrayed a deep anxiety.

  What the blaze could this be about? “Is there news of the wraith?”

  “No, sir. It's not that.”

  “What is this about then?”

  “It's not my place to tell, sir.”

  Not your place? What could be so important that I can only hear it from the King directly?

  “Nissek,” Dovell said. “Head out with everyone. Link up with Guard-captain Irridos before you start.”

  “Yes, sir. Will you be coming later?” Nissek asked.

  Dovell looked at Fabian who almost imperceptibly shook his head.

  “Don't count on it,” Dovell said. He stepped out of the barracks to follow Fabian across the bailey.

  The First Lance guard did not speak as he led Dovell towards and through the palace.

  Where are we going? Dovell thought. This isn't the direction to either the audience chamber or the throne room.

  It wasn't until they went up the stairs that Dovell knew their destination. We're going to the King's personal quarters.

  They arrived at a gleaming oak door, decorated with an image of a solitary oak tree standing next to a pond as squirrels darted across its trunk, carved out meticulously from the wood. Dovell knew that behind it lay King Darych's personal study.

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Two men of First Lance stood guard on either side of the door and one of them opened it to allow Dovell and Fabian through.

  Inside, apart from King Darych and the rest of First Lance, two men were present. Grandmaster Lakrin and another man who Dovell recognized as Obrin de Kloven, First General of the army stationed in Neroshi.

  Why is he here? Dovell thought as he bowed to the King. Are there more troops coming to Rios? He also noticed that there was a grim, serious expression on everyone's faces and the general atmosphere in the room reflected that.

  The King nodded an acknowledgement to Dovell's arrival, yet did not beckon Dovell to approach. It appeared he was still engaged in quiet conversation with General Obrin.

  The guard-marshal, however, did beckon to Dovell, who discreetly shuffled towards Andel until positioned next to him.

  Andel greeted him with a curt nod. “Dovell.”

  Dovell was astonished. He's using my first name?!

  Andel Ivozon was someone who rigidly adhered to protocol under any circumstances. To hear him use Dovell's first name rather than calling him 'Guard-captain Messchiel' set off more warnings sigils in his head than anything else.

  “What the blaze is going on, Andel?” Dovell said in a hushed tone, skipping protocol as well. “Everyone here looks like they did in the hours before the blowout.”

  “The Dust Empire invaded Gerios,” Andel said flatly, his face appearing like hewn stone. “They've taken Tasselhane and likely Esell as well.”

  The news hit Dovell as if he had been struck by a mace. “What?!” he exclaimed without any sense of composure.

  He immediately placed his hand in front of his mouth after his outburst. “My apologies,” he said to the King, who had halted his conversation.

  King Darych did not seem angry at the interruption, however, merely showing Dovell an understanding yet weary face before continuing his conversation with Obrin.

  “When did this happen?” Dovell whispered to Andel as erratic thoughts tumbled through his mind at lightning speed.

  “Three days ago.”

  “Three days?!” he exclaimed, his voice muffled behind his hand. “How could that have happened? When did we learn of this?”

  “This afternoon. One of the telepaths from the ministry in Tasselhane sent us the news.”

  “And?” Dovell urged him on as Andel fell silent. “Why did it take them so long to contact us?”

  “We don't know. The connection was cut off suddenly, and we could no longer reach the telepath in question. All we know is that the garrison in Tasselhane has been obliterated and that many thousands of troops have entered through the Galebreak Wall.”

  “Thousands of troops? Thousands of troops that could march unhindered for three days? They must be long across the Pyll by now then.”

  Andel inclined his head in agreement. “We can't reach the telepaths in Esell either, hence our suspicion that it has fallen as well.”

  “So they took Dustbreak Bastion.”

  “That's a safe assumption to make.”

  “Who knows about this?”

  “So far, the telepath that received the message, the office minister, two ministry guards and the men you see in this room.”

  Dovell felt light-headed. “This is a disaster. The panic in the city has only just calmed down. This will inflame it all over again.”

  “It gets worse still. The report also mentioned that the Dust Empire has the magic to make their soldiers fly.”

  The room started to spin.

  “Perhaps you should take a seat, Guard-captain,” Lakrin said, placing a chair behind Dovell. “You've been working for three days straight without much rest, after all.”

  Supported by Andel, who had grabbed hold of him, Dovell sank into the chair where he covered his face with his hands. He spent some time like this until he managed to get both his sight and thoughts straight again.

  “Three days,” he whispered. “The blowout. It was all part of the same plan.”

  Lakrin nodded. “It certainly appears so. It's quite an insidious plan, if you think about it. Even with the current outcome, where we avoided the worst for the city, the rising pressure in the ?ther at the time compelled us to sever all contact with the other cities. And in the direct aftermath all the telepaths here, provided any survived, would be completely occupied with the situation in the city.”

  “That's not insidious, that's an atrocity,” Dovell growled. “To wilfully risk a m?lstrom in an inhabited city cannot be called anything less. Not even Emperor Nakseem did such a thing during the Twenty-Year War.”

  “I would not dare argue otherwise. It is merely an observation on how much time the Empire must have spent preparing for this. We should take heart at least at the limited damage they inflicted upon the city.”

  “Limited?” Dovell sneered. “Do you know how many dead we've found? How many who still weren't?”

  Andel placed his hand on Dovell's shoulder. “Calm yourself, Dovell. Nobody here would dare question your resolve and commitment. I would strike down any man that would.”

  Any man except the King, Dovell thought as he took deep breaths and tried to calm himself.

  After a few more breaths, his fury and loathing had sunk to manageable levels and he started to think straight once more. The news of the invasion had instantly answered several of the questions he had been wrestling with the past few days. It did, however, also raise one new and immediate one.

  Why did King Darych call me here? As far as he could tell, there was no specific reason for him to receive the news before anyone else. This was a military matter, and as such King Darych and First General Obrin were the two people who would have the final say in the matter.

  He wanted to ask Andel about it when he saw that the King had finished his conversation with the First General. Obrin bowed and excused himself, and as he left the room he looked directly at Dovell with a strange look in his eyes.

  Why is he looking at me like that?

  Obrin did not say anything, however, merely nodding to all the men present and leaving the room.

  “Guard-captain Messchiel,” Darych said as he approached.

  Dovell wanted to rise, but Darych raised his hand. “Please remain seated, Guard-captain. I know you've been working hard these past days, and I would feel ill at ease making you stand for something as silly as protocol. Especially in the light of our current predicament.” He glanced at the guard-marshal. “I trust your earlier outburst means that Andel has informed you of what has transpired?”

  “Yes, your majesty.”

  “Good.”

  Darych beckoned to Andel. “Bring me a seat as well, please.”

  Andel made a slight gesture with his index finger and one of the First Lance members instantly sprang into action. He picked up one of the bigger chairs and with bulging arms carried it towards the King.

  “Here will be fine,” Darych said.

  The sound of the chair hitting the floor was loud despite being dampened by the thick carpet.

  “You must be wondering why I called you here, Guard-captain,” Darych said as he sat down and readjusted the crown on his head.

  “I am, sire.”

  “You know the First General, yes?”

  “I do, sire.”

  “Obrin will be heading back to Neroshi tomorrow morning by blueshift. I want you to accompany him.”

  “Accompany him, sire?” The impact of the earlier news had left his mind foggy, and he wasn't sure he had understood right.

  “Yes, to serve as an advisor.”

  An advisor to the First General? In Neroshi?

  “I'm uncertain what kind of advice I could offer,” Dovell said hesitantly.

  “On warfare, of course. Or more specifically, on magical warfare.”

  Leave the city at this time? And why me? Dovell thought, recalling his last brief absence and the developments in the city he missed because of it.

  “I feel that would be unwise, sire,” Dovell said. “Certainly there are others who could advise the First General.” His voice started to rise. “There is still a wraith on the loose in the city, and I must find it. It grows more dangerous every day. I must find it.”

  Darych narrowed his eyes, “Are you the only one who might find this wraith? Do you feel the other lances are unfit, then?”

  Dovell felt the blood rush to his cheeks. I said too much, he thought, bowing his head. “Of course not, sire. I'm merely worried about the exact nature of the wraith we are pursuing. It has proven to be very elusive, displaying behaviour it shouldn't have. Unfortunately, our knowledge is limited as we are men of arms, not books.”

  “It's because you are a man of arms that I need you in Neroshi,” Darych said. “Fifth Lance specializes in offensive combat, does it not? That means you, as its guard-captain, are the most suited to act as an advisor in that field. Andel tells me you served at the Frontier. Experience that might be very valuable. Who knows what horrors the Dust Empire is willing to throw at us?” Darych paused to rub his temples. “Obrin tells me that the army is prepared, yet not in the manner it should be. Things have changed since the Twenty-Year War. There were no runestones back then, and battles were decided by whoever could get rid of the other side's weavers first. Assassins were a regular part of any army because of that. Now, however, who knows what a full-scale battle with so many channellers will look like?”

  He waved his hand at a large map of the known world that hung from a nearby wall. “And unlike us, the Dusters have much experience with these things due to their continuing internal struggles. For Gerios, however, the only one who can give us even the slightest insight into such warfare... is you.”

  Dovell wasn't convinced, yet he could tell from the tense expression on Darych's face that the King wouldn't take no for answer. Not with a hostile army of Dusters marching through Gerios this very moment.

  “I will obey your command, sire.”

  “Excellent,” the King said. “You may take one of your men with you if you so desire, so that you are not thrown among complete strangers.”

  “That is kind of you, sire, yet I would feel ill at ease taking even more men from the Royal Guard. We are relying heavily on the aid of the city's magic guilds as it is.”

  Darych frowned and Dovell feared for a moment that he had angered him again.

  This turned out not to be the case, however. Darych leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes as if thinking.

  “The magic guilds,” Darych murmured.

  Lakrin coughed politely. “So far the contribution of the guilds has been exemplary. Most magistrae volunteered for the task.”

  Because they know that this is the fastest way to get back on the Crown's good side, Dovell thought. He did not say anything, however, choosing to wait for Darych to speak again.

  “What will the magic guilds do when they hear of the invasion?” Darych asked no-one in particular. “Will they rally beneath Gerios' banner as they did during the Twenty-Year War? Or will they look for their own path? If the past moon has proved anything, it is that the loyalties of the magistrae of this age are fluid at best.”

  “I'm certain they will assist the kingdom, sire,” Lakrin said. “It is true that their loyalties have been fluid, but some have crystallized as well.”

  “That may be so, grandmaster. Yet I feel that I need to consider this particular issue a while longer. My grandfather never took these decisions on the spur of the moment either.”

  “Your majesty,” Andel said after a few moments of silence, “there remains the matter of bringing the news of the invasion to the citizens.”

  Darych opened his eyes. “Ah yes, you are right. That should take priority now.” He faced Dovell. “Guard-captain Messchiel, remain silent about this until I have made my official declaration. Even to your men.”

  “Of course, sire.”

  “You are dismissed.”

  “I bid you a fruitful night,” Dovell said with a bow.

  “I will accompany you,” Lakrin said to Dovell before turning back to the King. “If you'll excuse me, sire, I have nothing of note to contribute at the moment and I would prefer to instruct my operators as soon as possible.”

  “Very well,” Darych said. “I'll be expecting you back by the time I address the court council.”

  “As you command, sire.”

  Darych leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes once more as Dovell and Lakrin left his study.

  “The King looks battered,” Dovell said after they had turned the first corner.

  “He is,” Lakrin replied. “The tempest we have found ourselves in continues unabated, and it's becoming increasingly hard on everyone.” He eyed Dovell. “Including you, it appears. How much sleep did you get last night?”

  “Four hours. Enough to rest the body.”

  “But not the mind.”

  “Every moment wasted is a moment that wraith may take a life.”

  “Yet it hasn't. Not yet at least.”

  “I let it escape,” Dovell said as they descended the stairs. “It's my responsibility.”

  “It's our responsibility, Dovell. And you can't convince me that you truly believe that finding and killing that wraith is more urgent than stopping an enemy army.”

  “I know,” Dovell said as he gritted his teeth. “I know.”

  “But you feel you are being sent away?”

  Do I? No, that's not it, Dovell thought, shaking his head. “It's just all too much. White Candle, the dark assailants, the blowout, that thrice-damned wraith, and now we are at war as well.” Dovell wasn't entirely sure why he said all this to Lakrin, but it felt good to vent his frustration. “And I've failed to properly deal with any of those things. We failed to stop the dark assailants, and we still don't know who they are. I let myself be tricked by Callium so they could enter the sanctum, leading to a ghast on the loose. I failed to stop the blowout, I failed to destroy that wraith.”

  “You also failed to stop an army from marching through the Long Valley,” Lakrin added drily.

  Dovell sighed. “You know what I mean.”

  “I do, but it appears you do not. As I said, we are all responsible. Don't carry the burden of everything that has happened on your own shoulders. You worry too much, and it's making your mind falter. I've seen it before with some operators in the Whisper. They worked and worked until their minds gave out and they became useless, like a candle without wax.”

  Dovell made a brusque gesture. “I should just go to Neroshi and join the army? I know nothing of military matters or large-scale battles. How is that supposed to put my mind at ease? I fail to see how I can help them at all.”

  “That I do not know,” Lakrin said as he opened a side door that led to the bailey. “The answer is one that you must figure out. Yet I do know that if you stay here your worth will only diminish. Focusing on one single thing will be a relief, I assure you. The guard-marshal feels the same way. Your reassignment was by his suggestion.”

  Dovell halted in the middle of the bailey. “It was Andel's idea?”

  “Of course,” Lakrin said, stopping as well. “The King merely followed his suggestion.”

  Andel suggested that I should do this? Is it true, then? Am I really working too hard?

  The sluggishness he felt in his body as he thought about it told him everything he needed to know. I barely have any energy left, it seems.

  “Regardless,” Lakrin said after observing Dovell for a while. “You accepted the King's command.”

  Dovell nodded. “There is no way around it now.”

  “Quite so.”

  “I'll bid you good night, then. It appears I will need to pack my things if I want to be ready tomorrow morning.”

  “Likewise,” Lakrin said.

  They separated, each walking towards their respective destinations.

  Back at the barracks, Dovell lay down on his bunk. It felt odd doing so while his mind screamed that he should get up and join his lance, but at the same time his body protested even the slightest of movements.

  Andel was right to suggest this. Now that I lay here, it all seems so obvious.

  A few moments later, he slept.