The bushes at the river’s edge were prickly. Vantra disliked them gouging her essence, and counted Kenosera and Yut-ta lucky, ensconced in Darkness shields. They did not have to suffer the mini-stabbings. They sunk into the rain-damp sandy soil, though, so maybe they were not as immune to the environment as she thought.

The discomfort kept her from pondering what she had just done. She never thought of herself as brave, inventive, or quick-witted, but she accomplished all three. She did not have the background, the knowledge, the aplomb, to use a magic power source as a ziptrail. Lorgan did. Not she.

What if they expected her to do something like that again? She was going to fail. In this case, she was lucky, and no one ended their existence because of her choice. She could not count on that luck again.

The bell’s frantic peels stopped in mid-ring; the invading group must have found and destroyed it. Good; she had no idea if that alerted just the castle or also officials in Courtlee Grace, and she did not want to battle well-intentioned locals who may not be associated with the enemy.

The bottom of the bushes rustled, and a red-headed viper with spines down its back pushed into view, its tongue flicking. The Darkness shields chilled the air enough that the creature shied away from them and slithered towards the flatter part of the road that ran parallel to the river before entering a stand of trees.

Yut-ta shuddered. “That was a stingwheel,” he whispered. “They bite and leave three red circles around the wound. They’re responsible for most of the snake deaths in Greenglimmer.”

“Well, it won’t be biting through my protections,” Kjaelle assured him, patting his shoulder before returning to his dagger. A sheen of Darkness coated it, one that melded with the blade and allowed him to cut wispy ghosts. She had already enchanted Kenosera’s, and whatever she did impressed Lorgan into eyebrow-raised delight. “It can go find one of those noisy frogs to swallow.”

The frogs were noisy, Vantra agreed. So were the insects, especially close to the river reeds. She could see tiny bodies with green-glowing abdomens flitting in and out of the tall stalks, and every so often, a teeny frog would snag one with a sticky tongue and reel it in.

The guttural calls of night birds and the high-pitched screech of bats came from a stand of trees downstream, distant enough they added a soft background song to the closer sounds. Further away, several shadows dipped into the light from an illuminated dock that jutted into the waves. They landed in the water, making a circle around several boats. She could not tell whether anyone manned them—probably not, or they would be staring at the castle or crossing the river to get help.

She rubbed at her nose, realizing how far the dock extended. She had not noticed it on the race there. What if it had poked out even further, and she rammed everyone into it?

Rotating blue lights over the treetops heralded the arrival of the spintops. Not one, but three headed for the castle. Once they reached the flatter ground surrounding the road, they hovered; Vantra guessed they did not want to land anywhere near the burning structure. A spotlight from the first illuminated their boats, and it slowly paraded across them, searching for anyone on board. After what seemed like the entirety of her existence, the craft set down in the middle of the road, the only place large and flat enough in the immediate vicinity for it to alight. Brighter exterior lights turned on, the edges of the glow reaching the bushes where they hid.

Dough hmphed. “Don’t think they can land anywhere else. Everything this side of town is fish farms, watergrass fields, and algae pools,” he said. “Stray too far, you might sink.”

“Lucky for us,” Kjaelle murmured as she handed Yut-ta’s weapon to him.

Mercenaries hopped out, scurried away from the rotor blades, spanned the road, and faced the castle. The other two spintops remained in the air.

“I suppose the boats are a giveaway we attackers arrived,” Kenosera sighed, glancing at the burning structure. “But why land, if you think the castle’s under attack?”

“I’m betting they’re going to evacuate someone,” Kjaelle said. “Keep sharp. We might have escapees faster than we thought.”

Dough stroked his beard as he regarded the hovering spintops. “Wouldn’t do to crash them when a living being we want is on one.”

“Still tempting.” Kjaelle leaned forward, her face wrinkling. Vantra moved a branch for a better view; Yeralis exited the spintop, and while he bent to avoid his essence being severed by the rotating blades, he straightened before it was prudent and sauntered down the road, hands on hips, eyeing the embankment.

Another being exited the craft and hustled after him. She wore a dark hooded robe with a metallic gold steward’s sash over her left shoulder and clasped at her right hip, and a dark tippet with green horizontal stripes at the bottom. “Lord Yeralis, Prophetess Navonna demands you return to your seat!”

Prophetess? Vantra’s rejection of the term was visceral and immediate. Only Sun Oracles told prophecies, and they were not called Prophetesses!

“She’s here,” he snapped. “I can feel it.”

Well, at least his hate made him do stupid things. If they could get him away from the mercenaries, Vantra doubted it would take much to whisk him away and get him to talk. From the looks the changelings deposited on him, they might even hand him over if he annoyed them enough.

“Ever heard of a Prophetess Navonna?” Kjaelle asked, nudging Yut-ta.

“No,” he whispered. “The steward’s wearing the uniform of Greenglimmer Regional Administration advisors, though. They’d been using Kanderite Water robes forever, and Anmidorakj wanted something more Nature-y like five years ago. It caused a stir, especially among the elfine traditionalists. I’m surprised to see one of them here, considering. The advisors always complained about Anmidorakj because her leadership was weak. She bent to Hrivasine’s demands far too often, and it hurt broader Greenglimmer in favor of Selaserat.”

“From me to you, pissing off advisors is a Kanderite noble tradition.”

Lorgan laughed quietly. “It seems like a Hethetor tradition as well. What do you want to do? If we attack the landed craft, the other two will take off and expect the ghosts on the ground to catch up.”

“I haven’t seen a soul float out of the castle,” Dough said, continuing to stroke his beard. “If they want Yeralis back in the spintop, they’re expecting to lift off fast and don’t want to leave him behind.”

“Because they realize, when the Light-blessed get a hold of him, he’ll not keep their secrets,” Kjaelle said. “He hinted he knew many, and while I think that’s a brag, I’m betting he knows what’s going on.”

He must; a shield formed around the spintop and a step in front of the wayward noble, strong enough to keep a dozen Light-blessed out. Vantra could not fathom why they created something so overwhelming unless they desperately wished to confine the willful elfine.

“Who cast that?” Lorgan asked, staring with a frown, mouth open in shock. “That’s a lot of power to draw and set without an external source.”

But it was drawing from a source. Vantra could see a rivulet of energy rising from the earthy depths and feeding it. She tugged on his sleeve. “There’s a line of energy the shield’s drawing from that comes from the ground right below it.”

Lorgan’s eyebrows knit as he looked. “Is it feeding on the remains of the lattice?” He stilled, leaned forward, rose up, and Kjaelle slapped her hand on top of his head and shoved him back down with a warning hiss. He did not seem to notice. “A ziptrail,” he whispered.

“A ziptrail?” Kjaelle asked, eyeing the ground. “I sense a faint one with the river, but it doesn’t have enough power to maintain that shield.”

“No, a far deeper one,” he told her. “And it’s not running with the river. I wonder if that’s what fed the lattice, and not whatever contraption they had up there,” and he swatted his hand at the destroyed tower.

Kjaelle concentrated, remaining still long enough Vantra worried, before popping into motion.

“That is deep,” she agreed, awed. “And I still can’t sense it feeding the shield.”

“There’s something strange about it,” Lorgan said. “Shielded against Darkness, shielded against Light, but Vantra’s Sun detects it. They were expecting Darkness and Light acolytes, I’m sure, but not Sun’s? And I’m having a terrible time grasping it despite using nymph water techniques that are often used to detect and manipulate the flow of ryiam.” He glanced at them. “I think I can sever the connection and keep it disconnected long enough we can grab Yeralis.”

Kenosera hissed and pointed. They all looked at the river; the faint shimmer of ghostly presence drifted over the water, a subtle use of Ether Form that would have remained undetectable but for the fire raging in the castle highlighting the wisps. The sandy shore next to them was the nearest foliage-free space for a quick zip onto land, and Vantra bet they would use it.

Dough slowly drew his sword with a wide smile. “About time.”

“Lorgan, when I give the word, sever the link,” Kjaelle said. “I’ll grab Yeralis, the rest of you prevent the evacuees from getting to the spintop. We’ll see if the mercenaries want to fight from there.”

“That’s not much of a plan,” Kenosera said, heavy with doubt.

Dough’s gleeful hee-hee coincided with the wisps hitting the sand. “Sometimes you don’t need a complicated plan. Sometimes you just need to bash heads!”

“Now!”

Lorgan severed the flow, and the power’s whining protest at the interference sent shivers up Vantra’s spine, but dread would not serve her or her companions well. She threw up a Sun shield and the new arrivals rammed into it, and Dough whisked to them in Ether form, swinging his sword. Kenosera and Yut-ta burst after him, weapons ready.

Cold-infused Darkness filled the air, obliterating external light but leaving her shield gleaming strong. Chittering came with it, high, with extra-sharp breaks, and Vantra’s essence prickled, as if set upon by thousands of biting insects. Screams echoed from the spintop’s direction, but she needed to pay attention to her targets rather than her curiosity; how was Kjaelle doing that?

“Yeralis,” Kjaelle called with sing-song fury, her voice echoing as if it rose from the deepest cavern. “Stay and play.”

The Darkness shields around Dough, Kenosera and Yut-ta flared, and magic pounded against them. Vantra reinforced the layers in rapid succession.

Lorgan hissed as the spintop shield reformed. Kjaelle screamed, numbing fury and emotional turmoil threaded through it.

Oh no! What happened?

“Dammit!” the scholar seethed. “She has Yeralis, but didn’t make it past the shield in time.”

Sparkles blinked through the Darkness, and Vantra thought they spun in a circle. That change worked to their advantage.

“See to the others,” she said and whisked to the enemy’s barrier. Stout it may be, but she could bypass it, using the flow of energy as a miniature ziptrail. Her experience with the lattice proved it possible. She entered the mass before she could second-guess her bravery, flowing in the same direction as the energy—there! Kjaelle!—and surged out at the elfine’s side. Yeralis squeaked and arched away, yanking on his arm to dislodge Kjaelle’s grip as excess energy flew into the heavy Darkness. She continued her trajectory, making a quick circle back. The elfine held out her arm, elbow cocked, and she snagged it with her own. The shard shimmered and burst from it as she entered the flow again; it must have decided the energy provided the chance to recharge. Good. She might need its full strength that night.

She changed direction, aiming for Lorgan, using their speed to vault them away from the barrier. They flew much further than she wanted, and she panicked; how could they stop? A Darkness shield caught them, curved down, and rammed them into the ground.

Well, rammed Yeralis anyway. He flattened into an essence pancake as she and Kjaelle skidded into the ghosts fleeing the castle, enough of the shield’s energy crackling around them to zap the unwary. Two discorporated, while five remained in Ether form, sparking and jiggling. Bolts of magic danced along Dough, Kenosera and Yut-ta’s shields but did not break through. The three used the excess to their advantage, and none of their opponents could fight both them and the power. They, too, discorporated.

She guessed they fought the Light-blessed and pirates before escaping, or they would not have fallen so quickly.

A shield filled with rushing water surrounded Yeralis; he unfurled and floated to his feet, vibrating, and not from fear.

“How dare you! You know who I am?” He thumped his chest. He wore a purple padded vest over his puffy white shirt, and his fist dented the velvety material. He, too, must be running closer to empty than full, or his essence would not have retained the depression.

“Yeralis,” she said drily as she slowly stood. She had not expected the rescue to make her ache so, and she again wondered why her essence experienced something akin to her living pains. Ghosts should feel nothing, and at the moment, she dearly wished the same for her.

The advisor, whose image remained clouded by the intense Darkness still swirling within the shield, beat on the interior, yelling at them. Vantra could not understand a word, but Kjaelle paused, eyeing her with a malevolent snarl.

“Ye teila mi,” she said. “Eddi eddi miq.” The advisor dropped her fists, shaking.

“Edentaukj eldial. Segtes Bransi Yeralis drava. Slin ektau mi levei.”

Kjaelle threw her arms wide. “Ye levei? Mi kaddoni oertidial niv ektau reesi?” She jerked her right thumb back at the castle. “Doshi? Slin di suga menetea, hye da vete.”

“KJAELLE!”

Vantra was certain, if Yeralis had lived, his heart would have given out after that scream.

Three separate, watery shields spun into a dome over all of them as a whirlwind formed, picking up dirt, pebbles, ripping grass and bushes from the ground. A thick haze made from dusty particles surrounded them, and larger and larger rocks struck the protection. She could see nothing, hear nothing but the rush of wind and the unintelligible shouts of the noble elfine that turned from demanding to fearful. The dome held, no breaks or fractures in the surface.

She set Sun shields below anyway, feeling overcautious. Something was odd.

The water burst in a gigantic splash, though she had no idea why. Nothing large had struck it. Four fuzzy, crackling yellow glows punched through her protections as the dome reformed, water flowing in the same direction as the wind and picking up speed. More glows, caught in the surge, broke apart.

Not greddels, but what?

Four pointed energy columns wrapped in parts of the lattice shot up through the ground and snagged the glows. Vantra threw a Sun shield across the dirt. Too late; gaps remained where they entered the space. Darkness capped them, but not before the suffocating power filled the atmosphere.

The shard shuddered, and she watched as it sucked energy. It behaved like a magnet attracting metal bits, only it drew ryiam to it. She knew she had to do something because when a rush of raw magic collected in one small space, the results were explosive.

She held it to her chest and drew ryiam off the surface and into her. The rapid recharge made her shudder, but she clasped her core tight and rode the waves.

“Vantra!” Kjaelle yelled. She sounded as if she stood at the bottom of a well. “Feed Lorgan’s shield!”

Oh. Yes. She had accepted his trigger, she could interact with his magic.

She dumped power into the water. She expected it to sizzle and crackle and pop, but the whirling mass diffused it instead. Where Lorgan siphoned it afterwards, she did not know, but it did not provide sustenance for the wind attack.

Once the ryiam had dwindled enough to static-charge hair but not explode, the gusts slowed. Heavier debris plopped to the ground, followed by lighter and lighter things until the dust drifted down to form tiny mounds.

The intense glow of an inferno blazing atop the crumpled castle entrance illuminated the shore; no more bushes or grass, huge divots were all that remained of sunken stones and the pavers, and the wind had scraped the sand away, leaving bare dirt behind. The boats had capsized except for the Little Duckie, and a broad curve of soggy earth ran from them and up the incline.

The hovering spintops were gone. The landed one sat on its side perpendicular to the road, a gaping hole and sparking wires on the top; the entire rotator assembly lay a hillside away, smoking. She did not see the mercenaries or the advisor and wondered who remained inside the craft.

At least the evacuees had not escaped. She looked up, around, reaching to push her hair from her eyes, and froze. She glowed white, with lightning bolts snaking over her essence.

What happened to her?

“Vantra,” Kjaelle said, her voice deep and calm and filled with satisfaction. It punctured her panic, and while she still felt over-anxious, her thoughts remained steady. “I think you need to dump a bit of that ryiam you swallowed. Lorgan created water containers from the excess you sent him, and you can fill those. If they soften the power like his shield did, we’ll have enough to re-energize the Light-blessed and pirates once they make it out of the castle.”

She cautiously nodded. She did not want to explode because she made a wrong move.

She accepted a ball from the scholar before she could ask after him.

“Do what you did with the shield,” Lorgan said. “The outer shell will break apart the raw ryiam and make it something more digestible to ghostly essences.”

“Make sure they don’t mingle with the enemy essences,” Kjaelle said. “We don’t want ghosts to get sucked into oblivion by a needy Light-blessed.”

“Be a shame,” Lorgan agreed with half-lidded eyes.

Kenosera grabbed one of the smaller water shields that held a discorporated essence. “Or we can energize them and see what they have to say. They must be important to the enemy, for the spintops to attempt a rescue.”

“Let’s wait for the Light-blessed to get back for that,” Kjaelle said. “They’re far better interrogators than I am.”

“You don’t interrogate,” Yeralis snapped. He remained within a personal water shield, arms folded, foot tapping, and his petulant grimace irritated Vantra. She wanted him subdued and afraid, not arrogant and belligerent. “You scream and shriek and demand obedience.”

“Like you?” Kenosera asked as Kjaelle’s expression deadened, though her eyes glinted like emeralds.

“You dare—”

“I dare because I’m not intimidated by you. I don’t respect you. And you’re annoying, not honorable or brave.” He splashed through the water and set the ball in the Little Duckie. “Leadership of the Nevemere in the Snake’s Den comes through my family. My grandmother was the naro vi-van, the high priestess of Darkness and the Snake. My grandfather was the Nevemere dor-carous, the high ruler. I grew up around those destined to lead. I was to be one of them.” He smacked his hands together and waded back to the shore, not angry per se, but certainly indignant. “I have many family members like you. They are loud and obnoxious and wish to wield a social power they refuse to work for. They bray like a spit when they make demands of the lesser and cower like a ronyx when confronted by the greater.” He grabbed another ball while Yut-ta snagged a third. “You are not bold enough to hold against the Light-blessed. If your positions were reversed, Kjaelle would not break.”

“But she did!” Yeralis yelled, triumphant.

“She told you what you wished to hear, because you are easy to manipulate.” He shrugged as he turned his back on the elfine. “And that is why we are here.”

His smile faltered as Yut-ta and Dough joined Kenosera in laughter. Vantra continued to fill the water balls as she glanced at Kjaelle; the elfine fought for a semblance of cool aplomb, but her narrowed eyes, firmed lips, stiff shoulders and trembling fists, proved her hate would accompany her to the Final Death.

Concerned, she looked up at Lorgan. The scholar gave her a half-grin, one of sad understanding and respect.