Dowyr squinted at the sun high in the southern sky as it shone down on the rolling hills and floodplains of Parasten. It felt surprisingly warm, and the snow had melted enough to see the muddy ground in sparse patches. Despite that, a shiver ran down his spine as he thought of what was going to happen soon, what he and everyone else was waiting for. How nice it must be for Regret Emogicians, who could channel to see the future, to always know how things would turn out.

  Garec and the archer platoon were far ahead, lying in wait for the contingent of Kircans heading for Leife. Donnan had been keeping an eye out for them through the morning’s travels with his astral projection and had spotted them about an hour prior. Now it was simply a matter of time.

  The rest of the Company was with them, tending to the horses mostly. Few talked, and those who did were merely giving soft-spoken positioning orders. Elethe stood near, looking in the direction of the ambush. Dowyr could see a long stream of transparent gray coming out of her as she channeled his Emogic to Garec and those with him. Dowyr wasn’t part of the telepathic link, though he supposed he could have channeled at Elethe and gotten some idea of what was going on, but he thought better of it.

  Weynon came up to him and handed him some bread and cheese. He took it and ate more out of politeness than hunger. His appetite had vanished when Donnan announced the location of the approaching Kircans. It was hard to think of anything else, except perhaps Aiyana.

  That was the name of the girl who’d asked him to dance the day before. Her face kept popping into his head, annoying him to no end. She had danced surprisingly well and was unusually polite. At least, in his experience. It made him immediately suspicious. When they danced, he tried to be subtle about looking around for other teenagers who were waiting for a prank to land, but he never saw any, and one never came.

  There was no ulterior motive, no trick being played. Like Weynon, everything she’d said and done was genuine, and when he watched the rest of the Parastenians dancing and interacting with each other or the soldiers, he realized they were all like that. It was nothing like how he expected people to act in Elyssanar. The fact buried itself deep in his mind, and he wasn’t sure how to react, except to ignore it as much as he could. He and the rest of the Company were leaving them, after all, and if other Kircans came, there wasn’t anything they could do about it. The Parastenians could easily be killed, and it seemed likely if the Kircans found out they had accommodated their enemies.

  No, no, put it out of your mind, Dowyr thought.

  “Are you alright?” Elethe asked, glancing worriedly at him.

  Dowyr nodded and gave her a thumbs-up. He knew Elethe probably didn’t buy it, but he couldn’t care less. These were his emotions and problems and he didn’t need some snobbish girl involving herself. He could handle it.

  “I didn’t ask for you to lie.”

  I didn’t ask you to ask, Dowyr signed.

  Elethe frowned. “I’m just trying to help. It’s better to talk about it.”

  Dowyr rolled his eyes. I can’t talk though.

  “Oh my Heaven, you know what I mean you twerp.”

  Weynon came to his side and whispered, “You could just say you don’t want to talk about it.”

  Dowyr gave him a level look. “I don’t think she’d listen.”

  Weynon shrugged and gave Elethe a look that seemed to say, kinda pointless, don’t you think?

  Elethe sighed and turned her attention back towards the ambush. “I think they’re about to attack, I’m not s—oh no.” She turned back to the rest of the Company and screamed “They need help!” before dashing off towards the ambush.

  Dowyr’s head darted around in confusion as the Company mobilized and followed Elethe. Weynon grasped his shoulder and gave him an assured look.

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  “Let’s see if we can help.”

  Dowyr shook his head and channeled, “We shouldn’t get involved, we can’t fight.”

  “No, but we should do what we can. But if you want to stay behind, that’s okay. I’m going.”

  Weynon ran off with the rest of the soldiers. Dowyr stared after him, his heart racing. Something must be very wrong if Garec needed help, but if that was the case, he didn’t want to be anywhere near trouble. Yet Weynon was getting further and further away, heading towards an unknown threat.

  To Hell with it, Dowyr thought, and charged forward.

  *

  The Kircans had expected the ambush; their own Ghost sensed Donnan when he spotted them. There was usually no telling what the opponent’s side would have in store once open combat erupted. If an unexpected Emogic sprang up at a high enough Class, any hope of tactical advantage was thrown out the window. The general rule of combat with Emogicians was prioritizing out-ranging or surrounding the enemy. Most Emogicians were too low-Class to be effective outside of close-quarter combat.

  This group of Kircans, however, had a special advantage: a Class 3.2 Immortal, an Emogician that channels Love, widely considered one of the most powerful Emogics besides Empathy. Not for offensive purposes, but defensive. It could cancel out most negative Emogics or create an Emogic shield around someone to deflect any weapons or harmful Emogics from affecting them.

  And so, when Donnan began channeling to start dropping the Kircans into the ground, nothing happened.

  They have an Immortal! Donnan sent through the telepathic link.

  A sharp alertness flooded the link. Boughton and the archer platoon took to the sky and began raining arrows, hoping that some among the Kircans were not protected. They found none. Arrows were fired back, striking soldiers out of the sky. Plumes of fire burst from one of the Kircans, and lightning struck from nowhere by the channeling of another. Garec began to channel, but stopped himself short, remembering another important detail about Immortals. Voidspeakers couldn’t channel at them, nor any they were protecting.

  He began to run.

  Everyone retreat! Garec sent through the link. Elethe, Match the Immortal and save who you can. Donnan, use the ground!

  What about the uniforms? Donnan sent.

  They don’t matter!

  The archer platoon began retreating, their numbers cut in half before Elethe could protect any of them, and not a scratch on the Kircans. Their advance slowed as the Immortal spread word that they were up against an Empath more powerful than himself.

  We’re coming, Elethe sent.

  Garec halted in his tracks. No, stay back!

  ABSOLUTELY NOT.

  Following the thought came a massive ball of fire from Elethe’s direction, haphazardly aimed, but its sheer size scattered the Kircans despite not injuring them. That was enough to convince them. They called their own retreat, hoping that with two invulnerable forces it would create a stalemate.

  Elethe and the rest of the Company reached Garec, but he called them to hold until they could be sure of their offense. The archers regrouped, the mounted spears lined up, and they watched as Kircans began dropping with the ground under their feet one-by-one. Dowyr and Weynon finally caught up and were confused at the lack of anyone being engaged in battle, until they noticed what was happening to the Kircans.

  Can’t you go faster, Donnan? Garec sent.

  I can’t bloody well phase the whole continent! Donnan sent.

  That one’s the Immortal, Elethe sent, telepathically pointing out who she meant. Donnan immediately focused his attention on him and dropped a hundred feet of earth beneath his feet. What arrows and Emogics couldn’t accomplish against an Immortal’s shield, gravity and blunt force impact could.

  The loss of the Immortal broke the Kircans’ morale, and they began scrambling away as fast as their feet would carry them. Garec channeled at them and called for the archers to reengage from a safe distance. They took to the skies and began to rain arrows down once again. There was no retaliation, no Emogics fired back, just death. It was a sorry sight. They cried out as arrows struck them.

  “Heaven save us!”

  “Mercy!”

  “Paradise forgive me!”

  Dowyr turned away from the slaughter and covered his ears, ready to sick up. Weynon looked on, and hearing their cries he began trembling as though a hammer had struck him. Dowyr noticed and wondered whether the cold was getting to him.

  Elethe turned to them, sensing something that screamed wrong. “Weynon?” She darted over to him and cried out in a panic. “Weynon!”

  You know, I have a love-hate relationship with war, Hell said in Garec’s mind as all this was happening. It causes so much wonderful suffering, and stops so much at the same time. And it has this nasty habit once it’s over where people will—

  It was not Garec ceasing his channeling that cut Hell off, but Weynon with a gut-wrenching scream.

  “STOOOOOOP!”

  Elethe fell back as an explosion of Emogic came out of him, aimed at everyone and everything, pulling all of nature’s emotion that he could find; fear, sadness, the expression of winter. The earth itself lent him its power, and in obedience to his command, all things stopped.

  For a moment, he held everything; for a moment, silence.

  And then he collapsed.

  The rest of the Kircans followed.