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  By the time the outskirts of Rivermere came into sight, it was long past noon. They passed grain silos, small farmhouses, and paddocks for livestock. They saw signs of where the infected had attacked, the fences broken and signposts knocked to the ground.

  Soon enough, Rivermere appeared ahead, a town crowning a large hill, ringed almost in its entirety by a river that created a natural moat that funneled traffic into the town.

  Ben paused, preparing himself for whatever was to come. He could see movement on the crown of the hill and small silhouettes stumbling around.

  Then the first screeches of the infected floated to them on the wind.

  Or so they thought.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “The challenge for today is to sustain your magic.”

  Chloe looked over the heads of the mages she and her friends had been training. The group who, almost a week ago, had been nothing more than amateur magicians, fresh into the game or not confident in their skills.

  Now, staring back at her were mages who had progressed by leaps and bounds. Magic-users who had worked on their skills day and night, put in the effort and energy to progress and increase their mana pools, manipulate the etheric to work for them instead of with them, and learned a ton of useful spells along the way.

  “That’s easy,” one of them called. “We’ve done that a thousand times.”

  “Not like this.” Chloe smiled. “Today we’re going to compete against each other.”

  A ripple of excitement went through the crowd. Faces under hoods of red, blue, yellow, and purple stared up with eager eyes.

  “Today I want each group to start at the same time and cast a spell. You must hold that spell for as long as possible in order to win the competition. Our efforts to open the rift will depend on exactly this—being able to maintain our focus and keep our spells working for as long as possible.”

  “What’s the prize?” another mage called.

  “Yeah! We’re not doing this for free.”

  There was a swell of giggles.

  “The prize will be this,” Chloe said, reaching into Gideon’s pack and pulling out a long gold staff as if from thin air. “A mage’s staff, decorated with topaz and emeralds and imbued with the power to enhance mana efficiency and increase your etheric attribute.”

  An awed murmur made its way around the crowd. It was the exact effect Chloe had been going for when she had gone to the ancient shops in the back alleys of Hammersworth’s commercial quarters, looking for something to inspire and incentivize her mages.

  It had cost her an arm and a leg, but thanks to her Heroes-for-Hire board and not having to pay to sleep in the palace, her coins had been stockpiling over the last few days. She had gladly handed the money over to the withered old crone and now held the item aloft for all to see.

  The only person not impressed by the item was Molly, who looked at her own staff as though she had somehow been given a raw deal.

  “Copycat,” she whispered.

  Chloe stuck out her tongue, eliciting laughs from Holly and Gideon.

  The competition was stiff. The mage cohort divided into groups of ten, each competing against the other. Anytime someone failed to sustain their magic, they were dropped from the competition and the remaining mages were given a few minutes of rest.

  By noon, a hundred and thirty or so had been filtered down to just over forty mages. Those who had been the first to go now watched and cheered on their friends. The competing mages did whatever they could to block out external disturbances and focus on the task at hand.

  “Impressive,” Chloe said, fingers laced behind her back as she wove between the remaining groups.

  She watched a mage holding an ice shard suspended in his hand, his fingers turned blue from cold. A bit farther on, she watched a woman who had gentle electrical sparks jumping between her fingers, racing like flies in the hot summer air. Beyond her were two mages who were in the midst of using the same spell to create droplets of rain that fell into the cups of their hands.

  “Chloe?”

  Chloe heard but did not turn, her attention caught by a sweating mage with an impressive illusion of a bird flapping between his hands. “Yes, Gid?”

  “You’ve got a visitor.”

  Chloe tore her eyes away to find Gideon standing behind her. “A visitor? Is Ben back?”

  “Not exactly,” Gideon said his voice trembling. He jerked his thumb toward the castle gate, where Gelda, Holly, and Molly stood chatting with a woman who stood at least seven feet tall and was draped in shimmering clothing.

  “Who is she?”

  “She’s from the Mages’ School,” Gideon told her. “She doesn’t sound happy.”

  As Chloe approached, the woman turned her attention to her. “Am I to guess that you’re Chloe?”

  “In the flesh,” Chloe said, offering a hand to shake.

  The woman looked at Chloe’s hand as though it were covered in dung. She ripped back her hood and revealed a face so aged and withered it was impossible to believe it belonged to a person.

  Her eyes were dark, shadowed by purple eyelids. Her nose was angled and sharp, her lips tight and thin.

  “What right do you think you have to be imparting lessons on magic within our city?” the woman snapped.

  “I’m sorry,” Chloe replied, unfazed. “Who are you?”

  “I’m the headmistress of the Mages’ School. Tabitha Ludlow, if you must know.” Her voice was shrill. Chloe found herself wincing as the sound scraped her ears. “Do you have any idea what damage you are doing?”

  Chloe raised an eyebrow and stood up straight. She imagined that Tabitha was used to people wilting beneath her stare, but Chloe refused to yield.

  “I’m sorry,” Chloe said sarcastically, “but all I’m doing is gearing up these mages for a quest of great importance and teaching them how to harness their powers.”

  “And you didn’t think to consider that the Mages’ School would offer this assistance, or that we’d even provide a good spot for practicing? My dear, the Mages’ School has been around for hundreds of years—”

  “Oh, we tried,” Gideon interrupted, finding his voice. Chloe was oddly proud of the pause he forced from Tabitha. “We went to your precious school. We wanted nothing more than to learn and increase our skills. We wanted to get better, but all your mages were useless. No one helped us. I don’t see a mage among us now who came from your school, and that’s after Queen Therese gave the townsfolk a command to help Chloe.”

  Tabitha flushed, taken aback. Clearly, she wasn’t used to being spoken to this way.

  “I… My school is… For hundreds of years, we’ve been…”

  She looked pained.

  “It’s true, Tabitha. When we came to this city, we visited your school, thinking we’d find a home like we did at the Academy in Killink View. What we found was dusty tomes and a load of mages so dated and stuck in their ways that they weren’t of any help.”

  Tabitha mulled this over, her eyes flicking back and forth as she thought. A few of Chloe’s mages were staring in her direction, curious as to what the commotion was about.

  When she eventually managed to compose herself, she said, “Regardless of your experience of my school, this needs to stop. Magic is a gift that must be taught and nurtured in the correct way. It cannot just be handed from person to person like some common weapon. It is an unpredictable mistress that needs to be harnessed properly.

  “When the city was first constructed, the Mages’ School was the first stepping stone for hundreds of mages. For years, we’ve strived to provide the best education for potential magic-users. It’s because of this that under the King’s treaty of 346, we were promised total control over the use and education of magic in the city.”

  She smirked, enjoying the expression she’d put on Chloe’s face.

  “A legal document.” She sneered. “Dictating that I have complete magical control, and you must stop what you’re doing.”

  Tabitha
felt a tap on her hip. She turned to look beside her, and her smile melted.

  “Well, many things are changing around here, aren’t they?” Therese grinned through the visor of the gold armor she had been given by Abe. “As your queen, I’d say that maybe we should revisit this treaty of 346 and have a word with the king to see what we can do about it.”

  Tabitha let out a sound that did not seem human, and her pale skin turned dark red. “I… No! It’s not…” she blubbered.

  Therese clapped her hands and several gold-clad guards flanked Tabitha and led her back to the castle.

  Before Therese left, she turned back to the others and said, “I think this new treaty will mean you guys get some brand-new mages to join your cause.”

  Chloe beamed. Behind them, a round of applause broke out as the next round of winners was determined. Of the forty remaining mages, ten more had now dropped out of the competition.

  “Great stuff.” Chloe beamed. “Break for lunch, then we’ll make it interesting. On to the final round!”

  When the mages came back together for the final round of competition, the remaining thirty stood back to back. The rest of the group formed a circle around them and watched their comrades eagerly.

  Chloe counted down to the final leg of the competition. “Remember, the last person left standing wins this!” She held the staff aloft once more.

  The mages stared at the staff with hungry eyes. They knew what they were playing for now.

  “Ready, set, go!”

  The mages cast their spells—mixtures of elements, their faces creased in concentration. The final round wouldn’t last as long as the others, the mages having spent a lot of their mana on the previous rounds.

  Chloe circled them, watching them carefully, testing their mettle. She was more impressed than she’d thought she’d be. She looked at Danny Tucker and admired the impressive orb of light hovering between his hands. Just a few days ago, he had struggled to hold it longer than a few seconds. Now they were nearing fifteen minutes.

  In the group was Lindsay Croy, a mage who had been a recent addition but had proven she could stand with the best of them.

  One by one they began to drop, sweat pouring off their heads as their shoulders slumped and they joined the large group. Before long, only three competitors remained.

  Aron Elrod, a mage who had chosen fire as his specialty, balanced a vivid green flame between his fingers. Lindsay Croy, whose butterfly illusion flapped in slow motion, and Peter Loopin, a mage who grew plants between his fingers, and now trailed and looped a vine around his hands as though it were a small snake.

  The sun beat down on them. Their hands began to shake. Aron’s flame flickered. Lindsay’s butterfly image faded in and out. Peter’s vine began to turn brown and wilt.

  As the competition neared its end, the crowd were on their feet. They clapped and cheered as the three mages struggled on, shouting and chanting for their favorites.

  Peter was the first to fall, his vine withering into nothingness and crumbling to the floor. It looked as though Lindsay would be the second to go, her butterfly almost invisible to the naked eye.

  “Come on, Lindsay!” a woman who Chloe had seen hanging out with Lindsay a lot over the last few days shouted. “You’ve got this!”

  A fire seemed to build in Lindsay then. She let out a strained shout and the butterfly reappeared in its full glory. She raised her hands and sent it into the air, where it swirled and flew above the heads of the others, growing until it was as big as an eagle.

  Aron looked up in awe, losing his focus long enough for his flame to flicker and die.

  “Aron’s out!” someone shouted, pointing to his hands.

  “Lindsay’s the winner!” Chloe exclaimed. “Congratulations, Lindsay!”

  Lindsay’s face was a mask of shock as she turned to the crowd. Distracted, her butterfly faded into a shower of sparkles. She was rushed by dozens of bodies as people hugged her and lifted her up and cheered.

  Chloe and the tutors laughed with glee, happy to see the students bonding. They really had come a long way over the last few days, and a small part of Chloe thought that they might be ready for the challenge.

  This feeling was confirmed when, unnoticed by the mages who shouted and focused on Lindsay, a group of dwarves emerged from the woods and found their way to the group.

  “Ben sent us,” the lead dwarf said in his gravelly voice. “Reinforcements for your cause.”

  Chloe caught Gideon’s eye and couldn’t stop herself from smiling.

  Chapter Thirty

  The cry for help grew clearer the closer they got to Rivermere.

  “You can hear that, right?” Ben asked. Where before he had seen an infected limping around and screeching, he now saw the silhouette of someone waving. The call for help carried on the wind.

  Veronica nodded, urging the unit of dwarves onward.

  They funneled across a bridge that led over the natural moat and drew their weapons. A wooden fence around six feet tall ringed the town. Ben, Leonie, Huk, and Veronica led the way, easing themselves through the open front gate, alert for any danger.

  The moment Ben crossed the threshold, an infected launched itself at him.

  It came from his left, all arms and gnashing teeth. Ben was ready, firing an arrow that drove straight through the creature’s skull. It flopped to the ground in front of him.

  “Arm yourselves!” Ben called back, running forward with his knives drawn and taking down the next infected to come his way. Beside him, Leonie and Huk had engaged with several infected, the creatures now pouring out of every nearby crevice.

  Ben felt hands grip his body. He pulled back, twisting and maneuvering away, slipping from their hungry grasp. They were less than twenty feet into the town, and already they were being overwhelmed. It was like a holding pen for the infected.

  “Retreat!” Ben cried. He ducked his head and rushed backward, only to find the gate choked with dwarves. The fighters moved faster than the message and it was a few moments before there was enough breathing room to duck out of the town.

  The KieraSlayers and any dwarves remaining created a barrier, then stepped slowly back and took down any infected that came their way. Veronica and Heather set about healing at a frantic pace, purging any darkness that found its way into the cuts and grazes on their comrades’ skin, until finally they were out of the village.

  Ben had expected the infected to funnel through and attack them, but the minute they were clear of the fence, the infected stopped, watching them idly from the open gate.

  “What the hell?” Ben muttered, unable to make sense of it.

  “It’s them,” Veronica said. “It has to be. They have control over the infected.”

  “Who?” Heather said. “The dark gods? How is that possible?”

  “They sent them after us at the city in the first place, and they are controlling them here. I don’t want to make people nervous, but I think they might be nearby.”

  Ben shuffled uneasily, disturbed by the horde of infected milling around the town’s entrance. “So what do we do?”

  “We need to come up with a plan. Either draw them out or find a way for us to get in there and rescue any survivors,” Veronica said. “We can’t just leave them to die, can we?”

  “I think I might know a way,” Heather interjected. “But it’s risky. I’ve only ever tried it once, but it might just work.”

  Ben’s battalion receded from the town, finding places to settle on the other side of the bridge. The dwarves washed and drank from the river while Veronica and Heather collected all the available clerics for their cause, finding space in the grass nearby to communicate their plan and practice.

  The solution was a spell, something Heather had picked up in a clergy book early in her Obsidian adventures. The spell had the ability to cloak clerics in a protective aura of holy light, the same kind of magic used to expel the darkness from the infected.

  Heather explained to the group its u
ses and how to cast the spell, many of whom looked afraid of the consequences that might occur should the spell not achieve its desired effect. It was a moderate-level spell that might be beyond many of the clerics, who until recently had wandered along with the rest of the infected in their own villages.

  “Any questions?” Heather eventually asked. She had just given a demonstration of the spell, her whole figure emitting a powerful white glow that they could sense from several yards away.

  “Just one,” a timid cleric with layers of fat spilling over his trousers said. “What do we do if this doesn’t work?”

  “Simple,” Veronica snapped. “We shut you in the pen with the other animals until we can work out a plan B.”

  When she saw the fear on the cleric’s face, she added, “We can’t think negatively about this. Negative thoughts will weaken us and our spells. We have to believe we can do this for it to work.”

  Heather nodded in agreement, and soon they were back on the bridge, facing the town.

  If the infected noticed them, they showed no signs. They milled and stumbled around the town, visible through the open gate as the clerics prepared their march.

  Ben shuffled uneasily nearby, hating the fact he could not be of more help.

  “Don’t fret.” Veronica grinned. “Leave it to the pros.”

  Ben snorted. “We’ll see.”

  “Okay, clerics, are you ready?” Heather called.

  A grumble was her response.

  “I said, are you ready?”

  The grumble turned into an awkward mix of enthusiasm and terror.

  “It’ll do.” Heather rolled her eyes. “Okay, auras up!”

  Most of the clerics began to glow with a faint pulse of white light. A few of them looked at their hands and bodies as if impressed that they were able to make the spell work.

  A handful of clerics, however, failed, and were sent to wait with the other fighters.

  Heather gave an encouraging nod to Veronica and the two led the way into the town.

  The minute they crossed the threshold, the infected rushed them. They tore through the streets to meet them, arms pinwheeling. They jumped and bashed into the clerics but were thrown back by the power of the light.