Paragon of Destruction

As they approached the clearing, Arran studied the others in the group, searching for signs that something might be wrong. Yet hard as he looked, all he saw in the novices’ faces was relief at the prospect of handing over Snowcloud’s protection to more powerful mages.

The only person whose face did not relax was the recruit Arran had faced in Hillfort.

During the past few days, the dark-haired recruit had been quiet but stolid, seeming neither fearful nor anxious. Now, however, a hint of tension appeared in his eyes, as if something about the situation caused him concern.

The change was a subtle one, but it immediately set Arran on edge.

Although he showed no outward signs of worry, his muscles tensed and his hand moved toward his sword. If trouble appeared, he was as prepared as he could be, ready to spring into action in an instant.

Right before they reached the clearing, he caught Snowcloud’s eye and briefly shook his head.

The gesture was small enough that the others did not notice, but after over a year of them traveling together, Snowcloud instantly understood his meaning. There was a subtle shift in her movements, and he knew she was preparing for battle as well.

When they stepped into the clearing, Arran saw that it was large and flat, with the ground covered in trampled grass. There were signs that there had been a larger camp not long ago, but right now the clearing only held three people — the Iron Mountain adepts, Arran assumed.

As the group walked toward the small camp, the three adepts stood up and turned to face the approaching novices. Two of them were men, Arran saw, while the third was a woman. Had he not known already, he would not have guessed they were adepts — they looked exactly like novices, though perhaps slightly older and more confident.

"Why did you return so soon?" one of the adepts called out, his voice curious but casual.

"We found her!" the fresh-faced novice replied in an excited tone, and the smile on his face held a trace of pride.

"Lady Snowcloud?" the adept’s gaze fell on Snowcloud, and he raised his hand as if to greet her. The gesture seemed entirely normal, and yet, to Arran’s eyes something about it was off.

At once, he rushed in front of Snowcloud, and in the corner of his eye he saw the dark-haired recruit do the same with Zehava.

There was no time for him to wonder about the recruit’s actions, because an instant later, a crescent of white flame exploded from the adept’s hand. It rapidly expanded outward, reaching their group a fraction of a second later.

The wave of fire hit Arran head-on, but powerful though it was, it was spread out too much to cause him any serious injuries — while the force that hit him exceeded a novice’s full-strength attack, by now, that was something he could easily withstand.

But the novices and recruits lacked his toughness. The surge of flame hit them before they could react, and against such power, they had no defense. They fell in an instant, dying as their bodies were engulfed in the flames.

As they died, Arran felt his Dragon’s Ruin devour their life force, filling him with power and healing his injuries.

He did not hesitate in reacting. Before the attack even ended, he drew his sword, then dashed forward toward the three adepts. Their magic far surpassed his own, but at close range, he should have a chance.

In the moment it took Arran to reach the adepts, a large boulder flew past him, soaring toward the woman standing at the middle of the three.

She moved to block it with a Wind Shield, but when the boulder struck, it unexpectedly wasn’t stopped. Instead, it shattered into numerous shards, none of which were slowed in the slightest. A moment later, the shards of rock tore through her body in dozens of places.

Arran did not let the woman’s death distract him, and he ignored her ruined body as it collapsed to the ground.

Instead, he rushed at the adept who had attacked first, sword raised and ready to strike. The man stumbled backward as he drew his own sword, but still, he launched another attack before Arran reached him — a white ball of fire that struck Arran in the center of his chest.

The attack staggered Arran, but only for a second. Then, ignoring the pain, he crossed the last few paces between himself and the adept, and immediately launched a furious series of blows at the man.

Arran’s onslaught drove the adept back several paces, but his opponent somehow managed to avoid being struck, expertly deflecting Arran’s blade with his own. Despite the man’s resistance, Arran continued to attack with all his strength — giving the adept even the slightest respite could only end badly.

For several long seconds, they were at an impasse. While Arran held the advantage, he could not easily break through his foe’s defenses, and with another adept still alive, he had no time to wear his opponent down.

But then, a thin stream of fire soared forth from behind Arran — one of Snowcloud’s attacks, headed straight for the adept. The man raised a Wind Shield to block it just in time, but the distraction was enough to create an opening in his defenses.

With a brutal two-handed strike, Arran battered the adept’s sword aside. A panicked look appeared on the man’s face as he tried to move backward, but it was too late — an instant later, Arran’s blade cleaved his body from neck to waist.

Arran tore his sword free as the adept’s body slumped to the ground, then turned to face the final adept — just in time to see the man’s head explode in a mist of blood.

He quickly looked at the battlefield, and saw that only four people remained alive — Snowcloud, Zehava, and the mysterious recruit. Both Snowcloud and the recruit seemed calm, but Zehava’s eyes were filled with panic.

"They tried... You killed..." Her wide eyes darted between the recruit and Arran as she tried to form a complete sentence. Finally, she blurted out, "You’re not recruits!"

A small smile appeared on the recruit’s lips, and with a nod at Arran, he sheathed his sword. After a moment’s hesitation, Arran did the same. The recruit had clearly been the one who killed the other two adepts, and whoever he was, if he meant them harm he would have acted already.

"My real name is Athan Kulik, or Rockblaze," the recruit said. "I’m an adept of the Seventh Valley. The Matriarch sent me to investigate the situation in the Sixth Valley. Can’t say I expected it to be quite as bad as this, though." He glanced at Arran and raised an eyebrow. "As for this one, I have no idea."

"I just had some lucky encounters," Arran said, then turned to Snowcloud. "Are you all right?"

She smiled at him, then nodded. "Thanks to you."

"You helped me as well," he replied. While he thought he could have defeated the adept by himself, without Snowcloud’s help the battle would have been a great deal harder.

"Why did they attack us?! We almost died!" Zehava interrupted them as she stared at Rockblaze. "And you lied to me!"

"It should be obvious why they attacked," Rockblaze replied. "The real traitors are part of your Iron Mountain. That’s why I chose to join you."

"You joined me to spy on the Iron Mountain?" The look of shock on Zehava’s face grew even stronger as she spoke, and to Arran’s eyes, it seemed like she was on the verge of breaking down completely.

"And it’s a good thing I did, or you’d be dead now."

"But if they..." Zehava paused mid-sentence. "The Waning Moon isn’t after Snowcloud?"

Rockblaze shrugged. "My guess is that the Iron Mountain traitors are behind that rumor. Had she died, everyone would have believed the Waning Moon was behind it." At that, his gaze moved to Snowcloud. "But I do wonder why they are so intent on killing you."

Snowcloud did not speak immediately, and for a moment, she seemed torn on whether to tell them the truth. Then, she answered, "I can cure Grandfather."