Chapter 69. Traitors
The cloud descended through layers of warm air that smelled of thyme and sun-baked stone.
Sael stood at the front edge, pipe tucked away now, watching the terrain resolve into clearer detail as they dropped altitude. The white grass rippled in patterns that suggested wind, but also movement: things pushing through it that didn't want to be seen.
Cypress trees clustered in tight groups, their dark silhouettes offering cover. Ruins littered the landscape: broken columns, half-collapsed archways, the skeletal remains of what might have been a temple or forum.
His attention fixed on a particular cluster of vegetation near the base of a ruined wall.
There. Five of them, pressed low against the earth, trying to make themselves small. Orcs. Large even when they were attempting to hide, their green skin mottled with dirt and dust in what looked like a deliberate attempt at camouflage. Four of them registered as mundane presences; living things, nothing more. The fifth was different. Mana coiled around that one like heat shimmer, concentrated and ready.
A mage, then. Or at least someone with a core.
The cloud touched down with barely a whisper of displaced air, settling onto the pale grass about thirty paces from where the orcs were hiding. Sael stepped off and behind him, Robin and Oz remained on the platform. Robin had produced a crossbow from somewhere, the weapon materializing in his hands with the faint shimmer of dimensional storage.
Sael glanced back at the movement. The fox was holding the weapon, bolt already loaded, though he kept it pointed down. On Robin's left hand, catching the light, was a signet ring. Silver band with a small gemstone set into it. It was a dimensional storage ring.
Huh.
Sael hadn't seen one of those in common use for... what, a hundred and fifty years? Most people used bags or pouches enchanted for the purpose now. Rings like that had gone out of fashion when the enchantment methods became prohibitively expensive compared to alternatives. Someone had either given Robin an heirloom, or the fox had acquired it from somewhere interesting.
He filed the observation away and turned his attention back to the vegetation.
Nothing moved. The wind had even stopped, leaving the grass perfectly still. The ruins sat silent around them, their white stone warm under the midday sun. No birds called, and no insects buzzed. It was just a thick, heavy sort of quiet .
Sael could feel the mana gathering now, pulled tight like a drawn bowstring. The orc with the core was preparing something. Fire, probably, given the way the energy behaved. The spell was almost ready, another few seconds and it would be primed to cast.
Sael raised both hands slowly and held them up at shoulder height, palms out. The universal gesture for peace, or at least for "I'm not holding a weapon."
"I'm not here as an enemy," he said in Orcish, keeping his voice level and unhurried. The language felt comfortable on his tongue; he'd spoken it often enough over the years that the grammar came automatically. "We only want to talk. Perhaps trade some information. Nothing more than that."
Silence answered him.
The spell was ready now. Fully formed and stable, waiting only for the mage to release it. Whoever was holding it had good control, the mana sat perfectly still, not even flickering. But they weren't casting yet.
Seconds stretched.
Then a voice broke the quiet, strained and rough, coming from somewhere within the vegetation. "...Go away."
It was male and... young, maybe. Hard to tell with the pain threading through the words, making them tight and uneven.
Sael didn't lower his hands. "I certainly could," he agreed, keeping the same patient tone. "But you sound like you're in poor shape. I could help with that, if you're willing."
There was another pause. Longer this time.
Then the air ignited.
A sphere of fire punched through the space between them, trailing heat and smoke. It wasn't aimed precisely at Sael; more in his general direction, a warning shot that screamed past his left shoulder and detonated against the ground fifteen feet behind him. The explosion sent up a spray of dirt and scorched grass.
A scream followed it, raw and desperate. "GO. AWAY!"