Chapter 8

  Alessandra

  Alessandra pressed her tongue against her lower lip and traced the rune stitching on her left fingerless glove, An undeciphered rune was written on a small parchment resting on the table. A rune Arch Magus Sabine had given her months ago believed to hold a secret to Essemancy. Allie spun her tungsten Essemancer ring about her right ring finger.

  Dozens of scrolls and books on the Traessyean Empire lay scattered around the table. Alessandra cross-referenced the scroll to a recently printed book. Parchments lay stacked on the corner of the table. A pile of printed tomes stood on the floor several feet high. Printing technology was several decades old, but much of the library still needed translating. Her research often encompassed a variety of forms of information: scrolls, parchment, and printed paper books.

  She turned a page, and the paper cut her finger. Wincing, she jerked her away and sucked the blood from the cut, the faint taste of iron on her tongue.

  “Why are you so hard to decipher?” Allie asked herself. Turning the page again, anxiousness stirred within. She scratched her head, causing a strand of long blond hair to fall onto the table. She blew a raspberry and abandoned any further attempt to decipher the rune. Another day’s diligent deciphering was done.

  Allie loved wearing dresses but wished someone would include pockets on them. Instead, she folded the paper enigma into fourths and slid it into the underside of her Essemancer glove.

  Despite her voracious appetite, she never seemed to build any muscle. Alessandra had skinny arms that had wielded a quill more frequently than a knight would a sword. She marked her place in the last book, closed it, and carried it with her.

  Allie left the Arites Academy library, leaving behind the books. Outside the library, a Theogonist acolyte, Tellisium priest, and academy magus argued over the purpose and relation of the All-Father, Primordials, and the Essence. Regarding them, a moment reminded her of the start of a bad joke a jester might say. She eavesdropped.

  “The Primordials came first,” the acolyte reasoned. A streak of silver shot through chestnut hair complimenting her wardrobe--a simple white chiton, thin brown leather belt, and boots.

  “No written record of Primordials exists,” the priest said. “No evidence of manifestation.”

  That isn’t entirely true.

  The priest wore sandals and a white robe with a large black diamond on his chest. Upon his sleeve, someone had sewn rows of teardrops, designating each year of service to the Tellisium church. Allie estimated the priest had devoted around thirty years to the church. His youthful appearance suggested he had become an oblate early in his life with the church.

  The acolyte protested with a raised finger. “A lack of manifestation does not make--”

  “The All-Father manifested Tellius as a prophet empowered to teach his people the one true way.”

  “Read a book,” the magus said with a wave of his hand.

  “I have read a book,” the priest said, “Tellius Thesis--”

  “Read another one,” the magus interrupted. Unlike the two religious figures, he dressed far more elaborately. Magus had no official garb and wore whatever they preferred. This magus seemed to prefer the style of a wealthy merchant. He wore a blue and black tunic over a white puffed shirt and slim-fitting black breeches. Such displays of wealth were not uncommon among Avictfell’s citizens, but her gaze lingered on his academy rings. He wore one silver denoting his rank of apprentice and a copper one indicating the rank of an initiate. His hands gestured, concealing the stones and their associated areas of expertise from her view.

  Why couldn’t it be both? Duality lurked within Alessandra. Her mind followed the words and wisdom of the magus. However, her heart taught the teachings of her prophet Tellius and the All-Father. Everyone’s constant need to be correct baffled her. Without fear of failure, one could never learn--never improve. Things were never absolute.

  Unification, not division, inspired change. She couldn’t let her colleague fight this argument alone. “Excuse me,” Alessandra said. “I couldn’t help but overhear. Why does it bother you so much about what the magus believes?” A baited question she already knew the answer to.

  “Because he is wrong,” the priest said.

  “How so? Is Tellius’ truth the only truth?” Alessandra asked.

  “Of course,” the priest said. “The All-Father empowered him with the Essence.”

  “What of the Theogony creation mythos that predates Tellius?”

  “There is none. Tellius was the first Essemancer,” the priest said matter of fact.

  Alessandra chuckled. “Before Tellius’ time, the Traessyean Empire ruled the world, worshiping only the Primordials--”

  “--False gods,” the priest interrupted.

  “Putting matters of divinity aside, there were Essemancers before Tellius.”

  The magus nodded. “Yes, the lady speaks true.”

  “Indeed,” said the acolyte. “There are no heretics here. They fought a century of war over this very topic. Let’s agree to disagree.”

  “How can you accept such lies?” the priest asked. “The Primordials never walked among men. They never wielded the Essence. The All-Father gave Tellius his divine power.”

  “Have you studied them?” Allie asked.

  “Theogony has no holy text.”

  “True, but I must confess.” Alessandra gestured toward the priest. “Despite my Tellisium practices, my studies found Theogony does reference divine power. The four Primordials comprising the Traessyean Empire’s pantheon were all siblings--each a master of many domains. The initial state of the universe was a chaotic, dark, indefinite Void. Together they created the sun, heavens, sea and earth. Using their own Essence, they created and populated the world. Aryss, the eldest, master of heavens and sky, created men in his image. Sytos master of earth forged mountains and grew plants. Messeas goddess of the sea populated the land and oceans with animals. Pylorus gifted man with the runic words of power.”

  “Words such as Tellius’ Thesis?” the priest asked.

  “Not exactly. These runes allowed them to draw upon the deities’ Essence and wield a fraction of their power. According to the myth, the youngest Pylorys grew jealous of his siblings and betrayed them. The united familial pantheon split fractured the denizens of the world. The god of war--Pylorys--fierce fighting wreaked great destruction and chaos throughout the heavens and earth. Men took sides. He brought upon a long, hot summer filled with fire and flames. Tens of thousands died, and vegetation burned, scarring the world and leaving behind the Great Desert. The siblings fought in the heavens above. Pylorys divided the three. He defeated Messeas first. She fled to the depths of the sea, where no light could harm her. Next, he distracted Sytos by unleashing a horde of specters on the world for him to fight. This allowed Pylorys to face his elder brother, Aryss, alone. Aryss, god of life, chief protector, oldest and wisest, fought Pylorys in a climactic battle. Both gods wounded each other. Their Essence-infused blood fell to the earth and crystallized as salts. In the end, Pylorys emerged victorious over Aryss, but Messeas healed herself and returned to help. Sytos extinguished the specters and aided his sister and brother. The three united siblings defeated Pylorys. They stripped his power from him and divided it among themselves.”

  “I’ve studied Theogony for decades and have never encountered such a tale,” the acolyte said. “You’re saying they killed their brother?”

  The priest snickered. “Consult your weeping stone.”

  Alessandra glared at him. “Because even the Traessyean language predates the Theogonist creation mythos.”

  The magus pressed the fingers of his hands together. “The Traessyean Empire’s pantheon remains unchanged, but the story may have evolved. People often ignore the faults of those they follow.”

  “Depends on the interpretation,” Allie said. “It’s a little unclear. The language is thousands of years old. Some scrolls imply killing, others defeat, and others speak more of exile or banishment. Afterward, the three siblings took new domains. Aryss ruled the heavens and the benevolent Essence of stars above. Sytos, god of travel, agriculture, and craftsmen ruled the earth and guided specters on redemption. Messeas, goddess of peace and love; darkness, shadow, and night ruled the blackness of void between the stars. Tasked with converting the vile Essence of fallen, for of all her brothers she was the most compassionate.”

  “Some of that sounds like it’s stolen from Tellius’ Thesis,” the acolyte said.

  “If they wrote it first, how can it be stolen?” Alessandra asked.

  “Heresy!” cried the priest.

  Alessandra traced the diamond on her chest. “Praise be the All-Father. I can be faithful and receptive to new ideas. Life isn’t an absolute.”

  “Well said, young miss,” the acolyte said.

  “How better to reaffirm my faith than by listening to those who challenge it? Tellius virtues are a way of life that we practice daily. Devotion, respect, sharing, diligence, and caring these acts can apply to all facets of life. What does it matter their origin?”

  “How do you know such things?” the priest asked.

  Alessandra licked the tip of her finger, opened a pouch about her waist, and dipped her finger in. She pulled it out. Blue crystallized salt grains clung to her moist finger. She sucked the salt from her finger. “The salt’s color corresponds to the deity’s blood. This is the blood of Sytos, master of alteration.” She held her book out with one hand and released her grip on it. It floated in the air. An invisible force pushed the book away from her, floating in the air. She stopped the book’s telekinetic push and pulled it back toward her hand.

  The priest and acolyte were wide-eyed.

  Alessandra spun and left them to continue their discussion.

  “She’s an Essemancer, you fool,” the magus said. “Didn’t you see the tungsten ring?” The rest of the conversation passed out of earshot.

  The road sloped down from Arites Hill through the city of Avictfell. She passed by a pair of arguing merchants. Centered within the city, the capitol building in Gryphon Hall stood surrounded by People’s Plaza. Commonfolk gathered around Avictus the Great’s statue in the front building.

  Crimson Cloaks patrolled among thousands of commonfolk who crowded around the constructed gallows. The crowd’s roar drowned out the executioner’s speech. Something about rioters, murder, and a lector. Allie heard the dreaded drop of death, followed by a collective gasp. Silence snapped into a cacophony of bloodthirsty eagerness--the crowd cheered for more. Alessandra hated the violent streets of the capital. She advocated against the use of violence. Only in self-defense, when no alternative presented itself, should one use violence. Allie turned away from the horrendous death devices.

  Directly south, the Hanging Gardens and Imperial Palace sloped upward, protected by a curtain wall and moat fed by the canal with a sluice gate. To the north, across the canal that split Avictfell diagonally, the Cathedral of Tellius stood.

  Allie accepted her jaded perspective of having lived within the safety of the academy grounds. The Crimson Cloaks maintained security around the Arites Academy and isolated her from such things. But once she left the perimeter, violence lurked everywhere. Corruption, class division, greed, religion, and hunger spurred violence. Usually, the watchman patrolled the city center and south of the canal. She only went beyond the canal to pray in the cathedral. North of the canal and along the docks, beggars, thieves, and murderers patrolled the streets with a viciousness that the Crimson Cloaks might envy. Over three hundred years ago, they wore white cloaks. During the Great Interregnum in a bloody battle, they defended the city with such tenacity that every member’s cloak had stained crimson with the blood. Since that day, they took pride in their crimson mantles.

  She walked south toward the Medistein Bank’s Avictfell branch. A pair of Crimson Cloaks seized a dagger from a man, claiming he couldn’t have weapons inside the city. When he protested, they suggested he take it up with the Assembly and laughed. Alessandra hurried by, not wanting to get drawn into the conflict. She sang ‘Cross the Canal’ to herself. A melancholic song that is often sung by the poor inhabitants of Rat’s Roost.

  If you cross the canal

  Your purse, I will cut loose

  If you cross the canal

  You will lie in Rats Roost

  When I cross the canal

  For food and golden coin

  When I cross the canal

  Your fate, I hope to join

  Greeted by monuments

  I pay my compliments

  Where I find Heaven’s love

  You’ll find the Void above

  The canal ran parallel to her. She crossed south over Emperor’s Bridge. The sluice gate controlling the water flow to the moat around the Imperial Palace was open. She reached the top of the bridge.

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  A Crimson Cloak held a poor-looking kid by her tattered shirt and tugged her arm. “Why are you out of Rat’s Roost? Don’t you vermin know not to cross the canal?”

  The orphan girl nodded meekly.

  “Since I’m feeling lenient today, I’ll let you pick. A beating now, or a few nights in the dungeon?”

  “Please,” the girl said, “I wanna see the killings.”

  A sinister smile spread across the guards face. “Fond for violence, eh? A beating then.” He raised his hand to strike.

  Before he did, Alessandra called out. “Help! Help!”

  The guard held his blow and regarded her.

  Allie’s heart hurried with concern for the poor girl. “Another rat just stole my purse and ran into the crowd.” Alessandra pointed back the way she came toward the main square. “He had bright red hair and a dirty white shirt.”

  The guard shrugged. “Bird in the hand.” He jerked the girl, trying to squirm free. “We’ll have to punish this one twice.”

  “No!” Allie put on her best trouper bit and pleaded. “Rather, I need that purse. If you recover it, I’ll give you a twelfth of its contents.”

  The guard grinned greedily. “Which way?”

  Allie pointed. “Back toward the statue of Avictus. Please hurry.”

  The guard shoved the poor girl to the ground. “Stay on your side of the canal street urchin.” He ran off.

  Allie’s heartbeat slowed now that the orphan no longer faced any immediate harm.

  “Neat trick,” the girl said, dusting her knees off. “Why’d you help me?”

  “Because you needed it,” Alessandra reasoned.

  “I ‘spose so. Got any tarins?”

  Alessandra chuckled. She reached inside her pouch and pulled out a silver tarin. “Here. Be more careful. The watch patrols are in full force whenever there’s an execution.” The girl gave a smiling nod and ran back across the canal, turning around a corner.

  Alessandra strode onward through the streets, arriving at her destination. Next to the bank stood a printing press owned by House Medistein. Weekly prints of the Avictfell Post kept the citizens informed. Employed heralds shouted headlines while dozens of children heckled citizens to buy copies. After the academy, these two buildings were her second home. The Medistein family banner hung above the door to both buildings--red and black slanted checkered lozenges. Outside the bank, Medistein guards strained to load the wagon with a heavy chest.

  Her father Otto stood tall, with dark hair and darker half-moons beneath his eyes. When he saw her, his smile spread to his eyes, shrinking half-moons. “Allie. How is my favorite daughter?”

  “I’m your only daughter.” Alessandra rewarded him with a warm smile and hug. “What’s in the wagon?”

  “Payment to the Grand Vicar for the Ricci estate.”

  Alessandra’s eyes went wide. “That much?”

  “It’s only ten percent,” Otto said nonchalantly. “Svetlana told me Inquisitor Karolin intended to meet me here to oversee the transfer. Have you seen her?”

  “No.”

  Otto spun around, looking about. “She grew tired of waiting, as do I. The sooner I complete this deal, the better.” Otto handed some documents to the household sergeant leading the caravan and addressed him. “I messaged Salvatore to inform the Grand Vicar that the shipment was on its way under the escort of my household guard. Take this to Ryvium and deliver it personally to Grand Vicar Rodrigo. No one else. Not a lector, inquisitor, or any knight. Only the Grand Vicar may receive delivery. Understood?”

  The sergeant said. “Yes Master Medistein. Only the Grand Vicar.”

  Alessandra didn’t recognize the sergeant, but she spent much of her time at Arites Academy. If Otto trusted him to manage such significant wealth, then he must be a reliable person. Allie and Otto stepped underneath a covered porch with stone arches. “You trust him to deliver so much gold?”

  “I do,” Otto said. “Besides, my true wealth lies not in these strongboxes, but here.” He tapped his head. “What matters to me is that I pass my wealth on. I sleep at night knowing you’re already far more wealthy than I’ll ever be.”

  Allie retrieved the folded paper from her glove and offered it to Otto. “Speaking of intellect, here is the rune Arch Magus Sabine gave me. I cannot decipher it. You should try it.”

  Otto nudged her hand away. “And who do you think gave this rune to the Arch Magus?” Otto grinned crookedly.

  “You failed as well?”

  “A smart man will admit when he doesn’t know the answer. The wise one will find the answer.”

  “Which are you, smart or wise?”

  “I’ll let you ponder that,” Otto answered. “Come inside for a moment. I want to give you something.”

  “A gift?”

  “If you don’t want it, I don’t have to give it to you.”

  “Father, we both know you’d never do that.”

  Technically, Otto wasn’t her true father--Lorenzo Bizzi was, and had died long ago. Otto had adopted her. He had became one of two dominant male fatherly figures in her life along with her Uncle Reinhard. She was the only girl of four children, and Otto took every opportunity to spoil her.

  Inside the bank, they passed counting counters. Each had an abacus, scales, ink, and quill, and ledger books. They turned down a short hallway. Otto took a key from his belt and opened a locked door to enter his office. Simple furniture adorned the room; a lantern sat on a large, sturdy desk. Bookshelves covered an entire wall filled with ledgers from floor to ceiling and a strongbox. Otto unlocked the strongbox, retrieved a leather pouch, and held it out to her.

  She suspected what it contained. “I can’t take this, Father.” She pushed the pouch back.

  “Nonsense, I insist.” He forced it into her hand. “Look inside.”

  Alessandra opened it, and as expected, salt salts inside. Unexpected, however, were their color--black salts. A rush of excitement fluttered through her heart.

  “We recently discovered these in the Tarona mines. I’ve seen them once before, and Markus’s journal references black salts from his expedition. But those are the first I’ve ever actually mined.”

  Unable to contain her wonder, Allie asked. “Do we know what they do?”

  “No.” Otto frowned. “This is why we’ve failed to decipher the rune. You will need to try again.”

  “This much salt is a small fortune. Give it to Arch Magus Sabine and see if she can try.”

  “She already has.”

  “If she can’t, surely I--”

  “You must have more confidence in your abilities my dear. Once you decipher the rune we’ll inscribe the Cipher Scroll.” Otto pulled out a scroll that had a myriad of runic symbols scribbled upon it. Each one has a different rune of power needed to use Essemancy spells. Some of those same runes she had sewn onto her glove.

  Someone knocked on the door. Otto replaced the scroll and closed the strongbox with a click. At the door, he slid the chain latch and open it. Allie’s adopted mother, Sophia, stood in the doorway.

  Sophia had dark wavy hair, which contrasted with her curious blue eyes. Her figure was much more shapely than her own. Sophia juxtaposed Alessandra’s in every way except the eyes. Or rather, in all the ways that mattered to men. “The Crimson Cloaks informed me if we wish an escort from Avictfell, we must leave at once before shift change.”

  “Tell them I’ll be right out, dear,” Otto said. “If they try to leave, offer them a few tarins.”

  Sophia pushed past Otto.

  “Sophia,” Otto said, “did you hear me?”

  “I did. But first I need a hug from my daughter.” Sophia embraced her. “New dress? I like the turquoise color. It brings out your eyes.”

  “It needs pockets.”

  Sophia mischievous eyes flicked toward her husband.“Nonsense. If dresses had pockets, what use would men be?” She winked.

  Alessandra failed to suppress her amusement. She tapped her satchel purse hanging at her side. “This will do, but sometimes I dread carrying it.”

  “How were the studies today?”

  “Laborious and unfruitful.”

  “You’ll be Arch Magus soon enough.”

  Allie blushed. “One day perhaps.”

  “I wish I understood even a fraction of what you know.”

  “What if I teach you?” Alessandra offered.

  “A mother shouldn’t feel shame admitting her daughter is more intelligent.” Sophia placed her hand on her cheek. “And more beautiful.” Alessandra felt the heat rush to her cheeks. “Come to the villa with us.”

  Alessandra glanced past Sophia to Otto, frantically waving his hands behind her. Otto shook his head and gave an elaborate swooning gesture touching his forehead with the back of his wrist. She had discerned long ago this was the gesture he made whenever he had some romantic surprise planned.

  “Tellius knows I want to,” she lied, “but I have to meet with the Magi Council tomorrow about Essemancy. I’m afraid I only came here to get more salts.”

  Sophia’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t they have salts at the academy?” She turned around.

  Otto ceased swooning and stood still, trying to look innocent. His efforts seemed successful because Sophia didn’t comment.

  “Uh,” Allie hesitated, “yes, but I needed the Cipher Scroll to review with them as well.”

  Sophia shrugged. “Otto, give her the strongbox key, and let’s depart before nightfall. The executions will have people stirring about. Let’s be well outside the city walls before dark.”

  “Of course, my love. We’ll leave at once.” Otto handed Allie the key. “Lock it up after you’re done.”

  “Enjoy your time at the villa,” Allie called out as they left. She sat in the plush cushioned chair behind a sturdy polished desk. Otto's plain decor didn’t extend to his chair. He had insisted on comfort since he had spent half his days seated. Bookshelves lined and jutted outward from the walls. A portrait of Markus the Magnificent, founder of House Medistein, hung opposite the desk. She leaned back to rest her eyes. After an agonizing analysis of archaic runes, Alessandra achieved clarity.

  A gentle knock sounded at the door, stealing her serenity. She had dozed off asleep, uncertain of how long.

  “Come in,” Allie answered.

  The door cracked open. Mia’s head poked through. “Allie, I’m scared.” Mia was a young girl, just turned eight, with blond hair and ink smudged on her face.

  About my age when I lost my parents. Seeing a lot of herself in Mia, Allie had taken a liking to Mia and developed a sort of maternal role for the orphan girl. She was one of the many orphans Otto had employed, fed, and housed in a sort of unofficial adoption. Like me.

  The Medistein had taken her and her brother Nicco in as part of their family after her blood parents died nearly two decades ago. They were two young minor nobles in desperate need of support and security. Otto’s uncle Reinhard had honored his godfather’s oath and adopted them as his own. Fearing they might abandon her, every day Allie struggled to prove her value to them by serving as an Essemancer. Despite not being of their blood, she considered the Medistein her family. Bizzi and Medistein were of one house. With their adoption, she gained three parents and two brothers. Her adopted great-uncle turned godfather Reinhard’s willingness to look past people’s differences had instilled a strong desire to maintain that unity within their houses. Her adopted mother Sophia had taught her compassion, and Otto taught her when to trust--and suspect--others, especially in matters of business.

  “Mia, what time is it?”

  “A few hours after dark.”

  “Why aren’t you in bed?”

  Mia stared at the floor. “I was, but I’m scared.”

  Alessandra tilted her head and motioned Mia to come. Mia pushed through the door and ran toward her.

  “Eh, eh, eh, hands?”

  Mia froze and held up her hands, showing her fingernails.

  “Other side.”

  Mia turned her hands, revealing ink-stained fingers.

  Allie clicked her tongue. “As I suspected.” She glanced around and grabbed a handkerchief from the desk, holding it before Mia. “Spit.” Mia spat. Allie cleaned Mia’s fingers one at a time, staring at the little finger. “What’s got you so scared?”

  “I heard a noise outside.”

  Probably a mob of drunks prowling the streets after the execution. “Oh, what kind of noise?”

  “A scary one.”

  “Specters in the night?” she teased. Mia’s eyes widened. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”

  “Are you going to use your magic on them?”

  Alessandra chuckled. “I’ll do you one better. I’ll teach you to use magic. What do you think?”

  Mia smiled and gave an eager nod.

  “Alright. Listen, to wield magic, you must first understand it. Magic comes from the Essence. The Essence is everywhere, a divine presence within all living things. We can manipulate it, giving Essemancers power from the Heavens.”

  “The Essence is in me?”

  “Yes. Are you ready to try?” Mia nodded again. “Do exactly as I say. Turn around, take a deep breath, and hold your hand out.” Mia turned. Once she did, Allie opened her salt pouch, licked her finger, dipped it into the salt, and sucked the blue crystals from her fingertip. “Focus on the door. Picture yourself closing it. Want it more than anything you’ve ever wanted. Do you want it?”

  Mia’s arm strained. “I do.”

  “More than anything?” Alessandra asked as she adjusted her runic-inscribed glove. Essemancy required physical contact of the user with specific runes to draw upon their power. A lesson Reinhard had taught her courtesy of his late wife Suna. Suna was Julk and shared Essemancy’s secrets with Reinhard.

  “Yes,” Mia answered.

  Allie flourished her free hand behind Mia and the door closed. Mia gasped. She swirled about, sending her hair spinning. Eyes wide with the wonder only a child knows. “I did magic!”

  Allie laughed. “Yes, you did.”

  A loud bang boomed from beyond the door. Mia startled. Alessandra squinted.

  “I told you,” Mia whispered. “Did you hear it?”

  “I did,” Allie said, doing her best to hide her fearful concern. She pressed her ear to the door and listened, but heard nothing.

  “Allie wait! What if it’s a specter?”

  “Good thing we have your magic.” She winked at Mia. Mia nodded and held her hand out in concentration.

  Alessandra cracked open the door and peeked through. Seeing nothing she opened it further and crept into the hallway. Her eyes still adjusted to the darkness, unable to see anything. A chill ran up her spine. From around the corner, a dim light flickered. Several hooded men held torches as they tossed tools and rummaged through piles of parchment. They wore swords and one had a crossbow.

  A hand wrapped about her wrist. Allie’s heart leaped from her chest and she let out a startled scream. Allie whirled to see who had grabbed her.

  “Told you,” Mia said.

  “Halt!” a deep voice commanded.

  “Stay behind me,” Allie whispered and turned around placing herself in front of Mia. “You’ll find no wealth here. Only parchment and inks.”

  The hooded man raised a crossbow and yelled. “Where are they?”

  Alessandra jumped. “Take whatever you want.”

  “I found something worth taking boss.”

  Another hooded man turned, presumably the leader. Alessandra pictured sinister grins of stained teeth beneath those hoods.

  “Go away specters!” Mia yelled from behind.

  The hooded men released a mocking laugh. “Specters. Do you hear that boss? That’s right we’re specters!”

  The blur of a child ran past--Mia. “I have magic!” Mia’s arm shot outward.

  Allie’s heart skipped a beat. “No!”

  A crossbow twanged and an instant later Mia collapsed.

  “Fool!” a bandit spat. They turned toward each other appearing hesitant.

  Acting upon their uncertainty Allie scooped up Mia and retreated down the hallway. Her heart raced. Each pump pushed primal fear throughout her body.

  “Stop her!”

  Back inside the office Allie closed the door with her shoulder, set Mia down, and barred it. A second later the door shook with a loud bang that rattled the door startling her. They battered the door with repeated bangs and swears.

  “Mia,” Allie said. Blood soaked her dress around the shaft of the bolt. Allie turned Mia’s head. Mia stared ahead frozen in fear. Life had already left them.

  Allie sobbed and shook Mia back and forth desperate to awaken her.

  “Get something heavy,” a bandit ordered.

  Another bash against the door. The hinges creaked but held firm. Another heavy thud and the hinges loosened. She was running out of time.

  Allie rested Mia down on the floor and blessed her Essence with the Sign of the Diamond--thumbs and index fingers pressed together in a diamond shape and extended outward from her chest toward Mia.

  “Where is the scroll?” a bandit roared.

  “Shut up you idiot!” another yelled. The boss perhaps.

  Allie sprung to action and opened the strongbox with Otto’s key. Her fingers raced to roll up the Cipher Scroll. Desperate and alone, with nowhere to flee, she did the only thing she could--hide. She sought refuge beneath the desk with the scroll resting in her lap. She ate purple salts, sucked down air, and closed her eyes. Her focus found Otto’s Essence. She telepathically sent him a message. Bandits are robbing the printing house. They killed Mia.

  The door burst open with a loud crack. Allie jolted beneath the desk. She hugged herself into the fetal position and squeezed her eyes shut hoping it was all a dream. Her breath came deep, and she felt it would betray her presence. Boots scratched against the floor with a slow steady pace. A message from Otto occupied her mind. Run! Rendezvous at the villa.

  “I found something,” a gruff voice declared.

  Another set of footsteps shuffled closer. “Why is the strongbox open?”

  A sudden crash of metal against wood spooked her. With a jolt, she banged her head on the desk above. She winced, swallowed her scream, and bit her lip to fight the pain.

  “Did you hear that?” the gruff voice asked.

  Adrenaline assaulted her. Heavy footfalls grew louder with each step. They were going to find her. She had to do something. She gathered her will, focused, and flipped her palms outward. The desk flew and smashed into the bookshelf. The lantern shattered. Flames feasted in fury on the books. Soon the fire would spread to the print shop. If she didn’t escape soon, she would burn to death. The two masked bandits shielded their faces from the fire.

  Allie judged the distance between her, the bandits, and the door. The closer one held a sword, and the other one stood among the scattered contents of the emptied strongbox. She dashed out the door. More footsteps came from down the hall so she ran up the stairs toward the living chambers. She had the advantage of knowing the layout. Upstairs the bank and print shop shared an adjoining hallway she could escape to.

  “Get her!” Someone shouted.

  Dreaded boots stomped after her but she dared not look back. Allie turned down the hallway toward the print shop door, unlatched it, went through, and closed it behind her. It was impossible to lock the door from the print shop side. The bank’s security took precedence.

  Two large machine presses rested in the center of the room. Sheets of paper hung over many suspended strings. The musk smell of paper and acidic soaks of gall nuts overpowered her. The bandit opened the door and chased her around the balcony. Allie slid down the stair rail and burst through the back door into the alley. Determined to survive, she ran toward the southern city stables.

  Behind her, a brigand appeared. “She is getting away!”

  Allie’s gumption had reached its limits. She hoped he was right.