The Death of a Mercenary

With her talons extended, Aria dove at Helena’s face, banking sharply at the last moment to circle her opponent. Bloody gashes now crisscrossed Helena’s cheeks. Seething, she aimed her ring at the sky, lashing out with a whip of pure flame that struck Aria squarely across the back. Aria shrieked in agony. Wells, overcome with fury, unleashed a torrent of water that extinguished the fiery weapon. As Aria swooped down to his side, they scrambled away from Helena together.

After circling his daughter, Cirus once again encased her in walls of solid earth. He moved in, pressing his own ring against her throat until she gasped for breath. The earlier ecstasy in his voice had vanished, replaced by a ferocious rage. "If you attack again, Helena," he snarled, "I will not hesitate to retaliate." Helena remained silent.

"You and Anais will accompany me," he continued in the same icy tone. "We are taking you to the Sorcerers’ Hall, where the Order of Sorcerers will put you on trial. Is that understood?"

A harsh, eerie laugh escaped Helena’s lips, sending a chill down Wells's spine. "The Order of Sorcerers is hopelessly mired in its own bureaucracy," she jeered. "We would have broken free long before they ever reached a guilty verdict. It is a futile effort, old man."

"Justice would be served," Cirus declared, his voice overriding hers. "You would be under constant guard, your magic completely suppressed."

From the direction of the other conflict, a terrible, spine-chilling scream tore through the jungle. Instinctively, both Cirus and Helena turned toward the sound. Wells clambered over fallen logs and tangled roots to reach them.

The scene that greeted him made him retch. In the center of a small clearing, Elrin and Anais circled one another, sparks flying in the fury of their duel. Both were bleeding from cuts on their arms, and a fresh burn mark seared Elrin’s face. On the ground lay Soren. His throat had been slit and his left arm severed. A spear of granite impaled his stomach, pinning his body to the forest floor.

"Wells!" Elrin yelled over the din. "Get away from here!"

Wells could only nod numbly, his gaze fixed on Soren’s limp form. As he staggered backward, he tripped over a root. In an instant, Helena was on him, shoving Aria aside and clamping an arm around his neck. She pressed her ring to his temple. Across the clearing, Cirus turned to face her, his own ring held aloft, glowing brightly.

"You will surrender and be taken to the Masters of the Grove," Helena commanded. "If not, your apprentice dies."

Wells’s eyes darted between Cirus and Helena. He knew she would kill him; her ring burned his temple with cold intent. Unable to bear the sight of Cirus’s face at the final moment, he squeezed his eyes shut. Suddenly, the scorching sensation vanished. He opened his eyes.

To his utter shock, Cirus had lowered his hand, his ring no longer lit. He hung his head in defeat. With a triumphant laugh, Helena shoved both Wells and Aria toward him. As they looked up at Cirus, Wells was stunned to see tears streaming silently into his mentor’s beard. He collapsed to the ground, and Wells and Aria fell with him.

"So this is how the great Cirus Crewe falls," Helena announced, towering over them. "Surrendering to his own daughter."

"I have not surrendered, Helena," Cirus murmured quietly. "I have only distracted you long enough for—"

A rustling from the jungle swelled into a sound like the thundering of a thousand hooves. Isena and five other centaurs burst from the undergrowth, their swords drawn and flashing wildly. Isena leaped forward, delivering a powerful kick directly to Helena’s face. A sickening crack echoed through the glade as Helena crumpled to the ground.

Pivoting, Isena grabbed Wells by the scruff of his neck and swung him onto her back. Another centaur had already hoisted Cirus onto his. The remaining four charged toward Anais and Elrin. After a short, ferocious clash, they returned with Elrin. The entire party then wheeled east, flying through the woodland at a breakneck pace.

They traveled for hours without pause. The centaurs, their expressions grim, spoke little, only informing Cirus that they were heading to Tor Alian with all possible speed. The forest blurred past in a smear of green and brown, yet the centaurs navigated Holtwood with an expert’s knowledge, following trails that seemed to materialize before them only to vanish just as quickly behind.

Wells barely registered the journey. He was still reeling from the shock of Soren’s death. Though he had hardly known the man, the sheer brutality of it had shaken him to his core. Every time he closed his eyes, the image of Soren's broken, bleeding body filled his mind. Worst of all were the eyes, wide open and staring into nothing. He shuddered, pulling Aria closer.

Aria had not been critically injured by Helena’s whip, but a long, raw strip of burned flesh and feathers marred her back. She remained curled in Wells’s arms as they rode, nudging him periodically to check on him. A vague grunt was all the response he could manage.

When night finally fell, they stopped. The centaurs instructed the three of them to get some rest. Cirus nodded and settled onto the rough ground beside Wells and Elrin. Wells’s sleep was plagued by nightmares of Soren, forcing him to relive the moment he entered that deadly glade over and over again.

He awoke before dawn. A thick fog blanketed the forest. Nearby, Cirus and Isena were speaking in hushed, tense Vaenyari. As they glanced toward Wells, Cirus gave a dark nod. The exchange unsettled Wells, but he was too exhausted to question Cirus about it.

They set off again. By midday, they crossed the large glade where they had first met Alexa, and by their evening halt, they were nearing the forest’s edge. For the next two days, however, they remained within the woods, riding south along the tree line as the great plains billowed in the wind beside them. Aria gazed at the vast sky with a wistful sigh.

On the fifth day after the attack, the centaurs finally emerged from the woodland. They stopped at midday on the crest of a large hill. To the west, Holtwood was a dark line on the horizon. To the east, Wells could see a gleaming spire.

"We leave you here," Isena announced. "We must ride to inform Lord Silus and King Holst of Anais’s treachery. From this hill, Tor Alian is a day’s walk."

"Thank you for your aid, Isena," Cirus said with a bow. She inclined her head in return. He spoke a few words in Vaenyari, and the other centaurs gave curt nods.

Isena and Elrin spoke quietly for a moment. Elrin clapped her on the back, and to his surprise, she gave him a brief hug. Then, turning as one, the centaurs galloped west, vanishing in a cloud of dust. The three companions watched them go before starting their own descent down the hill.

They walked for an hour before pausing to rest. Elrin, having eaten nothing for days, went to forage. Wells and Aria stood a short distance from Cirus, an awkward tension now hanging between the boy and his mentor.

At last, Wells could bear it no longer. "Why didn't you tell me Helena was your daughter?" he asked, his voice thick with frustration. Cirus, who had been watching the plains with his back to him, turned in surprise.

"What?"

"Why didn't you tell me?" Wells repeated, his voice rising. "After she captured me—how could you neglect to mention something like that?"

"Wells," Cirus said wearily, "I have my reasons for keeping my daughter a secret from you. They are not reasons I am proud of. I did not feel it was pertinent to inform you."

"Pertinent?" Wells echoed. "Pertinent? She kidnapped me and then tried to kill both of us! I’d say that makes it pretty damn pertinent." He realized only after the words were out that he was shouting.

"Wells, please listen," Cirus murmured, though his eyes were filled with a profound agony. "My reasons are deeply personal. So personal that I never spoke of them even to Jonas. I will not elaborate further, and I must ask that my explanation be sufficient."

Muttering, Wells turned his back on Cirus and sat down to brood. There was too much to process: Soren’s death, Helena’s return, Anais’s betrayal. Aria, equally stunned, settled beside him.

"I still can’t believe Anais is a warlock," she said sourly. "I trusted him."

"So did I," Wells replied. "He even saved my life."

"But why?" Aria wondered. "He could have killed you when we broke into the outpost."

"I know," Wells said. "That’s what terrifies me. It means they might not want me dead. Not yet, anyway."

"Helena seemed to have no problem trying to kill you," Aria reminded him bitterly.

"Yeah, well," Wells retorted, "Helena's a raving psychopath."

They sat in silence until Elrin returned with a handful of berries and roots, which they shared. Even Aria deigned to eat a few. After the meager meal, they pressed onward toward the east.

On the horizon, Tor Alian grew steadily larger. The castle, rising from the city's heart, gleamed in the late afternoon sun. Its banners snapped proudly in the wind, and Wells could just make out the glint of sunlight on the shields of guards patrolling the walls. The sight stirred a knot of joy in his stomach, a flicker of hope at the thought of rejoining his friends—or at least, most of them.

The trio’s prolonged silence for the rest of the day seemed to irritate Aria. She flew ahead, periodically returning with a struggling mouse in her beak, which she would devour with relish.

That night, Elrin offered to stand watch the entire night. Anais’s betrayal had unsettled something deep within him, and he had not slept well since. His cheeks had grown gaunt, and dark circles shadowed his eyes. Instead, Cirus insisted that Elrin sleep and took the watch himself.

Throughout the night, Wells could hear Elrin tossing and turning, occasionally muttering to himself in his troubled sleep. Wells felt powerless, uncertain of what to do. He wanted to promise them that everything would be all right, but he couldn't make a promise he didn't believe himself. He could only hope that upon reaching Tor Alian, he might find some glimmer of that hope within himself.

They rose early the next day and set a faster pace. Tor Alian loomed ever larger. The road, which should have been bustling with travelers, was eerily deserted.

"This is troubling," Cirus said, his brow furrowed in a deep frown.

"I agree," Elrin added. "What is happening here?"

As they approached the city gate, they could hear the distant clang of steel and muffled shouts from within. The guards’ posts were abandoned, and the colossal gates were barred shut. "No matter," Cirus said. He raised his left hand. With a flash of brilliant light, the gates groaned open.