The group of seven secured their captive to a chair they had found in the camp, subjecting him to brutal interrogation.
Despite their efforts – and the unmistakable desperation in his eyes – not a single word left his lips. It was as if his mouth had been sewn shut.
'This is going nowhere,' Siegmun growled, ripping off his gloves and throwing them to the ground before storming off in frustration.
Balidor clenched his fist, dispelling the flames he had conjured beneath the Ikshari's feet. As the heat faded, so did the man's silent, shuddering gasps of pain.
A short distance away, Riniock sat on a boulder, watching in quiet detachment.
Torture wasn't something he particularly enjoyed. He understood its purpose, but if given the choice, he always preferred a simpler solution: murder.
There was no doubt – the captive knew the answers to their questions but remained silent, whether intentionally or forcibly.
'He's probably under a spell preventing him from speaking,' Riniock suggested, eager to end the pointless interrogation. 'Let's just kill him and get back before the delegation starts questioning your absence.'
Siegmun hesitated, but when the others nodded in agreement, his resolve wavered, his worry assuaged.
'Riniock's right,' Aikan said, clapping him on the shoulder. 'He's not going to talk.'
Siegmun scanned the group, their expressions unwavering. 'You're all in favour of this?'
Not a single head shook in dissent.
'Then it's settled.' He turned to Riniock. 'Have at it.'
There was no need to tell him twice.
Riniock rose from his rocky seat, stretching leisurely. His dagger slipped from its scabbard of its own accord, hovering beside his face like a predator savouring the moment before the kill. After a night spent wielding it with deadly precision from afar, his control over the weapon had only sharpened – so much so that he no longer needed his hands to guide it.
The captive, who had endured an hour of silent torment, finally broke.
'No…please…mercy…I'll tell you what you need to know…just don't kill me…'
Riniock tilted his head and smiled. 'I don't care.'
The dagger shot forward, piercing through the man's skull. His body jerked back, chair and all, collapsing into a lifeless heap. The execution was so swift, so seamless, that most of the group barely registered the moment of death.
The blade wrenched itself free, spinning midair to fling off any lingering blood before gliding smoothly back into its sheath – no hands required.
The others stared, clearly impressed.
'Neat trick,' Siegmun remarked before turning to their final task. 'Now, let's deal with the remaining elantreas and head back.'
Across the barren landscape, the night echoed with bestial shrieks – sharp cries of terror that quickly faded into silence as their owners expired.
By the time they returned, the first light of dawn crested the horizon. The entire rock barren glowed in a warm hue of terracotta, the unbearable heat finding its way back.
Their arrival did not go unnoticed – seven figures striding back into camp were hard to miss. And with Riniock being a person of interest to the academy master, his absence had certainly raised questions. As they made their way through the gathering of both institutions, Fladd fixed them with a jaundiced glare, his scrutiny unmistakable.
Noidron was the first to greet them, though he did so discreetly. Approaching Siegmun with his back turned to Fladd, he gave a subtle glance, a silent warning not to say or do anything that might arouse suspicion.
Siegmun caught the cue and played along. 'Noidron! How goes the healing of the injured?'
'Quite well,' Noidron replied, his expression carefully neutral. 'But the academy master has grown impatient. He spent the entire night inquiring about your whereabouts.'
Siegmun raised a brow. 'And did he receive an answer?'
'He did.' Noidron's tone remained steady. 'I informed Master Fladd that you took the initiative to form a squad and drive the elantreas away from the area, ensuring the safety of the wounded whilst the medicar tended to them and the others handled the fallen.'
Siegmun forced a polite smile and gave Noidron's arm a firm squeeze. 'You did well. I'll handle the rest from here.'
With a slight nod, Noidron excused himself, leaving Siegmun to face what came next. He passed by the others, allowing Riniock a warmer expression as greetings.
Fladd wasted no time closing the distance between them, his stride sharp and his expression betraying clear displeasure.
'Mr. Torash,' he began, his voice laced with thinly veiled sarcasm. 'I trust your little excursion was a success?'
'Oh, without a doubt,' Siegmun replied smoothly. 'Mr. Ortis mentioned you spent the entire night beside yourself with worry.'
Fladd's expression darkened. 'Beg your pardon?' he echoed, his tone heavy with displeasure.
'But there's no need for concern,' Siegmun continued, unfazed. 'I've returned safe and sound, and I'm prepared to move along as soon as the last of the injured is fit for travel.'
Fladd's glare was piercing, but Siegmun met it without so much as a flinch. The academy master's efforts to intimidate him were wasted.
'We march in an hour,' Fladd finally said, his voice clipped. 'Make sure your company is ready. We're nearly there.'
Siegmun inclined his head with practiced ease. 'I'll be sure to pass along the message, Master Fladd.'
After this peculiar exchange, Siegmun, Noidron, and Riniock reconvened, the staff member eager to hear about their exploits from the night before.
They settled onto the sun-scorched sand, careful to keep their conversation out of any unwanted earshot.
'I assume you tracked down the beasts?' Noidron prompted.
'We did,' Siegmun confirmed. 'Thanks to Riniock, we located a camp – fourteen maegis from the academy.'
Noidron's voice dropped. 'And their status?'
'Dead,' Siegmun stated plainly. 'We also eliminated the elantreas and burned the camp along with the bodies.'
Noidron wrinkled his nose. 'That explains the stench. Your clothes reek of smoke.' He shook his head before pressing on. 'Tell me more – about the battle.'
Siegmun recounted the raid in detail, leaving nothing out. Noidron listened intently, occasionally making approving remarks, particularly when hearing of Riniock's role in the skirmish.
'To think, the first time I met you, you were hiding in a tree. You've come a long way.'
Siegmun raised an eyebrow, smirking. 'Hiding in a tree?'
'Long story,' Riniock cut in before the conversation could veer off course and his embarrassment exposed.
Noidron chuckled. 'Well, in any case, go get ready. I'd rather not have that oaf Fladd breathing down my neck if anyone isn't prepared on time.'
Before long, the entire group, from the college and academy alike, had gathered and resumed their march, trailing behind the delegation, who moved with practiced ease across the unforgiving terrain. Curses were muttered, complaints whispered, but as time wore on, their frustration dulled into weary resignation.
Then, as they ascended a steep dune, a breathtaking sight unfolded before them, sweeping away the lingering grievances of their journey.
It towered over everything in sight.
No dune, no stray shrub, no lone tree or jagged rock spire could compare to its sheer presence. The Gorleans might argue that their own homeland was far grander, but for a people whose closest brush with permanence had been tents, this was a sight to behold.
A voice rang out, that of Fladd's, rich with pride and a hint of challenge in his intonation.
'Welcome to our home, spawns of Gorlea. This is Ikshar Academy of the North.'