Gavin swept his gaze around, searching, but he still didn’t see any movement that suggested where his friend had gone. He had to believe that Wrenlow was here.
He’d said to go through the door, hadn’t he?
Gavin followed the top of the boxes with his eyes, and then he saw him.
A dark-skinned man had Wrenlow penned into a corner.
Wrenlow was doing everything he could to fight him off, but he was slowing. The enchantments Wrenlow had were fading. They didn’t last indefinitely, and they would fade when used quickly. Considering how Gavin’s had been neutralized, it surprised him that Wrenlow still had access to his enchantments.
Gavin scrambled forward quickly, and as soon as he neared, another man darted toward him. He was tall and lean, with a scar on one cheek. His shaggy brown hair hung down to his eyes. His movement looked enchanted, especially with the way he seemed to glide toward Gavin.
“You made it through,” the man said. He had a deep, harsh voice. “Didn’t know if you would.”
“Let him go,” Gavin growled. “You only want me.”
A shuffling sound and faint breeze suggested others were coming.
“Unfortunately, I’m not able to do that,” the man said. “But I can give you something else.” He grinned as he pulled a long, delicate silver blade out.
Wrenlow kicked past the first attacker.
Gavin pushed down the surge of pride. It wasn’t a technical attack—relying instead on enchantments—but he’d defended himself.
When Wrenlow surged toward the man facing Gavin, the knife blurred.
Wrenlow’s eyes went wide. With enchanted eyesight, Wrenlow would see the movement clearly. Without the necessary speed to stop the attack, there would be nothing Wrenlow could do.
Horror surged within Gavin.
People converged around Gavin, and he thundered, exploding the power of his core reserves out. The boxes were thrown back, the attackers were thrown away. He jumped, the suddenness of his movement carrying him forward, and he grabbed the thin man’s wrist before he had a chance to reach Wrenlow. Gavin bent it back with a sharp crack until it shattered, then spun the man around to face him.
“Did Tristan send you?”
The man’s eyes widened as he shook his head. “I don’t know. I was just hired. They wanted to know what you’ve learned.”
So that was what this was about?
The man tried to pull back. Gavin grabbed the man’s head and jerked it in one sharp movement. There was a snap as he fell to the ground.
Weakness threatened to overwhelm him. He had called upon too much energy, too much power from his core reserves, but he had to hold on a little longer.
Wrenlow looked up. Gavin grabbed the man’s slender knife from the ground and handed it to Wrenlow.
“You did good. Now we need to get out of here.”
“What happened?”
Gavin glanced toward the door. The boxes that he had jumped across were all scattered, most of them against the walls, and there were half a dozen bodies lying among them. Gavin had no idea how many of them still lived, and at this point, he didn’t even care.
As he tried to help Wrenlow up from the chair, he staggered. Wrenlow caught him and slipped his arm underneath.
“We need to get moving,” Gavin said, sweeping his gaze around him. He didn’t know how many of these attackers would get up, but he didn’t want to be stuck here—and certainly didn’t want to face any more fighters.
Wrenlow just nodded.
They neared the door, and Gavin saw the El’aras dagger on the floor. He stepped away from Wrenlow, nearly falling but managing to stay on his feet. He grabbed the dagger and held it up, but he didn’t see any glowing from the length of flat gray. The lettering on the dagger glittered with the lantern light, and a warmth had started to fill the room from the rear of the warehouse.
Fire.
Gavin looked back. “We should really put that out.”
It had already started to spread and now billowed with incredible heat. They weren’t going to be able to put the flames out. Not without help.
“Do you have some way of doing that with your magic?” Wrenlow asked.
“Not this fire.” Gavin was exhausted and felt a little drunk, which was a dangerous combination for a fighter.
“Come on,” Wrenlow urged.
They stepped out the door, and Gavin hesitated, worried they would run into another attacker, but there was nothing other than the bodies. There was no sign of the figure he had seen lingering near the back of the warehouse, the figure Gavin was convinced had been Tristan.
Wrenlow held on to him, getting him through the warehouse, then back out onto the street. “What was that all about?” he asked, looking over to Gavin. “We had come out here because you detected magic.”
“It was magic. Tristan used magic in a test. I don’t know if I passed or failed, which is even worse,” Gavin said, shaking his head.
Flames crackled from behind the door, granting enough light that Gavin could make out the fire that started to consume everything. He hoped the stone of the warehouse wouldn’t let the fire spread far. He couldn’t do anything—other than get help to put out the flames.
“When you get back to the Dragon,” he told Wrenlow, “you need to let Davel Chan know what happened here.”
“You want the constables to get involved?”
“For the fire,” Gavin said. “They have to be. I promised him.”
It was more than just the fire, though. He needed Davel and the constables to watch for any sign of another attack, to watch for magic and ensure that the city was defended against it. Davel Chan had to help him, because Gavin wasn’t sure that he would survive another test like this.
Wrenlow pulled out a small ring-shaped enchantment from his pocket, tapping it. He whispered into the enchantment for a moment, then slipped it into his pocket again.
