L’zar’s smile widened as he stared at his daughter. “When Cheyenne’s abilities rival my own, I’ll be the first to bend the knee. I don’t need to stick a piece of metal behind my ear to manipulate the threads I see.”
Corian snorted. “No. You have to hole yourself up in a vacuum and meditate for four hours minimum. I agree, it’s much more convenient.”
Byrd and Lumil sniggered and stared at the drow thief, who was slowly being pulled out of his brooding. L’zar interlaced his fingers and set them on his lap. With a final smile at Cheyenne, he dropped his head back against the cushion of his seat and closed his eyes.
Corian pointed at him. “See?”
* * *
They rode the transport shuttle long enough to get hungry and pull out the so-called lunches packed in metal boxes. Cheyenne lifted the square of dark-green chewy-looking something and narrowed her eyes.
“Don’t eat that all at once.” Corian pointed at it and popped a bright-red nut into his mouth. “That’s better left for when we run out of everything else.”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I know what this is.” Cheyenne sniffed the square and dropped it back into the box. “Energy bar, huh?”
“Something like that.”
“Yeah, the FRoE has something like it on the other side.” She opted for what looked like a strawberry except for being a deep, shiny purple with heart-shaped leaves. Doesn’t taste like a strawberry either, but it’s way better than that bar. “How do those people over there have the same recipe for a brick of stinky magical fuel?”
Maleshi and Corian exchanged knowing glances. The general shrugged and picked at the food in her rebel lunchbox. “Those friends of yours.”
“They’re not my friends.” Cheyenne shook her head and dropped the berry leaves into the box. “Associates, maybe. That’s it.”
“Whatever the case, when they see something they like when the refugees cross over, they put their own spin on it. Let me guess—their version is mass-produced and comes in a plastic wrapper.”
“Huh.” Cheyenne closed the metal box and stuck it back in her pack. “You know a lot more about them than they know about you.”
Corian chucked. “That’s the way we like it.”
* * *
Despite the shuttle’s high speed, they traveled for at least another three hours before Cheyenne’s activator sent her an alert that they’d be slowing down soon. “Looks like we’re almost there.”
Byrd scanned the empty open land around them and frowned. “What part of the nothingness gave you that impression?”
She stood and went to the control panel, bringing the walls, ceiling, and floor back to their usual shining metal. Then she pulled up a map on the front wall for everyone to see. “Wow. We’re way out in the middle of nowhere.”
“Oh, yeah. Look at that.” Byrd snorted. “Could’ve said you saw it on a map.”
Shortly after that, the shuttle applied its braking system and decelerated to a smooth, efficient stop. The doors hissed and slid open on their own, and the traveling band of magicals pushed themselves out of their seats, groaning and stretching as they filed out of the shuttle.
Ember gave a mocking grimace as she floated out of the shuttle. “What area of town are we in again?”
“Ki’uali,” Lumil muttered behind her. “Not a town. More of a waystation.” The goblin woman’s eyes widened when they stepped around the front of the train. “Ghost town, I guess.”
The shuttle doors closed again, and the bullet-shaped O’gúl train powered up to head toward the capital with zero passengers. Cheyenne didn’t turn to watch it leave. “What happened here?”
“Looks like the same thing that’s been happening everywhere else.” Corian readjusted his pack and nodded for everyone to follow him. “Persh’al painted a clear enough picture of what you saw the last time.”
Foltr scowled at the abandoned village surrounding the transport station, the end of his cane digging into the dirt at his feet. “Four hundred years.”
“What?” Maleshi looked at him over her shoulder and stopped when she saw the old raug’s trembling lips curl into a grimace.
“I was last here four hundred years ago, and the Ki’uali station was an active village. Full of trade. Pups scurrying around underfoot.”
“A lot happens in four hundred years, right?” Ember gazed at the rotting buildings falling apart.
“Not here.” Maleshi approached the raug and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, Grandfather. We need to keep moving.”
Foltr snarled but didn’t protest, thumping his cane with unnecessary force into the ground as he fell in line.
“Watch out over here.” Corian pointed toward the closest slanted building on their way up the wide dirt path that led into the mountains behind the village.
“Yeah, that looks like what Persh’al and I saw.” Cheyenne leaned toward the building to peer at the dark lines of black sludge climbing the walls of the building like snaking vines. Shiny vines that pulse like worms. Wrinkling her nose at the mixed scent of decay and old urine, she kept moving after the others.
Lumil’s boot squished into a puddle of thick sludge off the path, sending out black ooze in rivulets like a scurrying swarm of maggots before she lifted her foot again. Beside her, Ember scowled and floated away from the mess. “Ew.”
“Oh, yeah. It’s not always the case, but right now, I’d say ‘ew’ and the death of the land go hand in hand.”
“Wait.” Cheyenne stopped and sniffed at the air. Definitely urine. How did I let that one go? “Anyone else smell something?”
“Yes.” L’zar spun and eyed the abandoned buildings. “We’re not alone.”
Byrd snorted. “Really? I know half of us here can smell fae, but I doubt we’ll find any here.”
“Not fae.” L’zar stepped back down the path, his eyes darting from one rotting building to the next. “But the smell of piss doesn’t hang around for four hundred years.”
A howling shriek split through the air, and a dark shape darted between the buildings. Grunting and sharp, warning hisses followed, then more dark blurs moved across the village.
Corian pressed
