B3 Chapter 415: Argent Clash, pt. 5

Across an engraved depiction of Deadacre and its surrounding landscapes, the scry net projected a layer of warbling blue light.

Every time the artifice detected a fluctuation in the background mana, the illusion would spike, growing brighter and taller above that spot. The problem was its poor resolution — at best, it gave her a general indication of a location. That wasn’t so bad — but the poorly tuned accuracy of the machine was doing her head in. A few times a day, the artefact would spike with a false reading.

Ro sighed, staring at the table with her arms crossed. She knew it was only noise. Just random static, really — yet every time it happened she felt her heart leap into her throat.

It was driving her mad; alone in the room as she was. Rieker tried to keep her company when he could, but he was busy. The demands of being guildmaster waited on no one, not even lost and hunted delvers.

Hells, she was busy too, but Ro couldn’t help but keep watch. She might have a token that would alert her if a signal grew too loud too quickly, but she couldn’t bloody focus on anything else. At least in here, she could still get a little paperwork done — content to keep watch on the scry net out of the corner of her eye.

Yet just like every other hour she’d spent staring, there was never a true signal.

It was all just noise.

Resting her palm on the pommel of her bastard sword, Ro shook her head. This was stupid — she’d run out of busy work a half hour ago. Other things needed her attention; she could get Mally or one of the other attendants to keep an eye on the scry.

Standing up from where she leaned against the wall, she turned to leave — a bitter taste on her tongue.

There was a flash of light, spiking bright in the corner of her eye.

Again, her heart leapt, but she steeled herself.

A blink, and it’d be gone again, as it had been every other time.

The light grew brighter.

She froze.

The light grew brighter still.

Turning slowly, Ro saw a tall peak almost leaping into the air above a map segment halfway to the edge of the table to the east of Deadacre’s marker.

Her mouth went bone dry, even as her knuckles went white from the force with which she gripped the hilt of her sword.

The light grew brighter still.

Roaring upwards, standing nearly three handspans above the table surface. An immense outpour; far, far too large to be noise. Not even a brawl of Silvers could cause such an outflow of energy — at least, not without significant numbers of them.

Her breath caught in her throat, her mind racing. There was only one thing it could be — the very moment she had been waiting for. Yet for the signal to be so strong…the boys must be in great danger.

Kept in her pocket, the communication token keyed to the scry net screeched a piercing note as it vibrated incessantly.

The signal grew stronger, bright enough it would have been blinding to a lesser woman.

Ro was already out the door.

She tore her way through the guild, hallways passing in a blur. They needed to move! Rieker, Arc, Bronwyn and his team — all of them. She had the heading; she’d seen where it was on the map.

Four or five days at a slow walk, half of one if they pushed themselves — less, if they had a little help. Thank the gods she had insisted they all be prepared, with gear ready in storage artefacts.

Dipping into her own, Ro summoned a cluster of potions to her hands. They would need them if they were going to make it in time, cost be damned. The alchemist who’d brewed them for her said the backlash would be fierce, but it would let them arrive in a couple hours at most.

Shattered bloody axles, with the strength of that signal, even an hour might not be swift enough.

Ro took a corner at speed, inscribed floorboards screaming torturously under the forces involved. An attendant turned the corner — she kicked off the wall, flying over his head before he could even blink.

Everyone would be upstairs, discussing how best to approach the problem of the beasts — even Arc had joined, worried the trouble could spill over into his own city.

Reaching the stairway, she took them ten at a time. An eyeblink later, she hurled open the door to the meeting room. It cracked, slamming into the wall with a colossal boom.

Two golds and four silvers met her entrance, instincts making them all leap to their feet.

Ro hurled her potions at each of them, trusting them to catch.

“We need to go, I just saw a massive spike of energy a few days east of the city. It’s verging on a Gold-tier clash — at least twenty silvers. We can be there in just over an hour if we take the tonics.” Her words all but fell out of her mouth.

Without waiting for their answer, Ro spun on her heel and raced to gather the rest of what they would need.

“For fuck’s sake, Ro, just don’t run ahead! If it’s Gold, we all need to be there!” Rieker roared after her.

…

A clawed hand of terror tore its way up Kerel’s throat. His breaths came heavy, hard, and fast as war raged around him.

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It was chaotic, messy, and altogether too fast. He was a rogue — everything he had was built towards his speed and senses, and still he could barely keep up with the pace of the battle. Gods’ rotten scorn, it had been seconds since Yena’s head had been vapourised!

His danger-sense Skill went haywire, screaming at him from every angle. A flash of blue to his left — he flinched as the tree next to him detonated.

Someone collapsed, blood spraying in a cone where their head had once been. Who was it?

Adrenaline surged through his veins as Kerel threw himself to the side, scrambling for cover before the archer could fixate on him. Gods’ fuck! Had that been Vros? That archer had shot straight through the damn tree — even with Silver skill and strength, her arrow should have shattered!

Who the fuck had second tier arrows, the cost was unimaginable!

Breathing in panicked gasps, Kerel desperately tried to figure out how he would survive this.