Miles away from Tilm, three horses galloped through the maze of stone towers. Their riders, dressed in blue, frantically darted their heads forward and back, watching every direction around them. They held spell rods out, casting mid-gallop at the shadow that pursued them. Every shot missed, slamming either into the ground or stone. Responses came in the form of more magic from the shadow, barely missing the riders.

  The riders exited the stone towers and galloped as fast as they could across the open field, straight for the fortified camp. From behind them, another rider flew wearing bright red wings on his back and holding a spell rod high above him. He leveled the rod at a rider and cast. The rider avoided it but slowed enough that Red Wings came in close and smacked him with a rod. A horn sounded from the camp.

  Benedict, Shiyo, Ordra, and Kirion stood on a platform running along the camp’s fortified wall, with the captain next to them. Ahead of them, behind another, smaller wall, more guards waited out of sight with spell rods in their hands. Behind, training weapons clacked together as Amalyn expended some energy sparring with other guards.

  “They’ve already made it further than last time,” Benedict murmured.

  “Not done yet, though,” Ordra said.

  The ground under Red Wing’s horse flashed gold with each step as he intensified his pursuit. He aimed his rod again, and light flashed around the second rider. The horn blew a second time, and then a third as a spell hit the last rider. Then they were done.

  Captain groaned loudly. “Why didn’t we start this training before now?”

  Red Wings trotted his horse up to the wall with a satisfied smirk on his bearded face. “I haven’t had this much fun in a long time, sir!”

  “You’re driving my men harder than expected.”

  “If I didn’t give them a challenge, this wouldn’t be worth it. You told me this, remember?”

  With another frustrated growl, Captain climbed down the wall and went to his men. Red Wings followed him. They both spoke in tones too low for anyone on the wall to hear, but Benedict had an idea most of their conversation involved complaints.

  Red Wings was, according to their captain, the best rider in the guard, and he had such experience with varied weaponry that he commonly trained everyone else. That was aside from his commanding presence that had Amalyn constantly stealing admiring glances toward him. She denied it, but Benedict noticed.

  “I yield!” someone shouted from the training yard behind them.

  Amalyn stood with a quarterstaff across her shoulders. “You gave me quite a fight.”

  “And yet I never managed to touch you,” the defeated guard complained.

  “It’s just a fun little challenge. You’ve never fought an adventurer with powers like mine, have you?”

  “Powers that make you untouchable? No, I haven’t.”

  “Amalyn, don’t bully the guards,” Ordra said.

  “But they asked me to,” Amalyn retorted.

  “She’s enjoying that a little too much,” Shiyo said.

  “Physical activity is how she clears her mind,” Ordra said. “We camped in some abandoned ruins once, and she spent the entire evening running along the walls, making a game out of never touching the ground. Kirion and I don’t truly understand it.”

  “She’s unwell in many ways, I think,” Kirion said.

  “And you’re any better?”

  “I am not the subject of this conversation.”

  The riders ran their exercise again. This time, the last one was within a short sprint of the finish line before he was struck with Red Wings’s spell. The next time, two of them reached that point only to be hit simultaneously. Benedict let out a sigh at their attempts. Despite confidence that his horsemanship was middling at best, part of him wanted to give it a go.

  Another guard interrupted their viewing of the training runs. Unlike all the others, he carried a book in his arms and wore a pair of spectacles on his nose. He introduced himself as Wren.

  “I’m the conjurer,” Wren said. “My apologies for my tardiness. This spell was complicated to work out.”

  “Amalyn, ready to train for real?” Shiyo called.

  In a flash, Amalyn bounded to them, landing with perfect grace next to Shiyo. “We’ve been waiting all day.”

  “If only you knew how hard I worked.” Wren adjusted his spectacles. “Conjuration is the hardest of the thaumaturgical arts, and something of this magnitude is rarely done.”

  If he had been creating a monster for them to fight, it wasn’t so rare, Benedict thought.

  “Just produce the construct,” Kirion said.

  “We’re eager to see what you came up with,” Ordra said.

  Wren walked into the field about fifty yards and opened his book. Following the instructions as written, he traced glowing runes in the air ahead of him, one after another—Benedict lost count after the thirtieth. Wren finished, and the rune circle flashed. Light and shadow swirled in front of him, contorting and warping into a large blob suspended in the air. A long, spindly limb reached from the blob and slammed into the ground, followed by another, and another until it stood on eight as tall as an elephant.

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  “Wren, you made a potato spider,” Benedict said.

  “And it was hard to make, believe me!” Wren groaned.

  “Good enough.” Ordra held his hands next to the coffers on his waist, and two large shields appeared on his arms. “Everyone, ready yourselves.”

  Benedict drew his sword, then Shiyo hers. Kirion held a bow in his hands. Amalyn twirled a glaive around her body. They lined up in formation with Ordra at the front, and Wren ordered the construct to attack. The potato spider reared up onto its rear four legs, then slammed the front four down around the party’s formation.

  Benedict and Shiyo had the same job: attack the legs. It didn’t take long for Benedict to realize that the simple job would be anything but easy. The two legs nearest him darted into and out of range too fast for him to make a solid strike. The times he connected, his slice barely made an inch-deep cut. Somehow, the beast knew when he was trying to use the Viper’s Curse, too, as it pulled back faster when his blade glowed with the power.

  Amalyn flew above him, thaumaturgically boosting herself through the air and slicing her glaive through its body. Two legs came up toward her, and she bounded off its body, letting those legs fly underneath her. Benedict finally found a moment. The spider kept itself rooted for a moment longer than it had been, and he plunged his sword deep into the leg in that extra time. It recoiled and threw him off, taking his weapon with it.

  “Oh, come on!” Benedict complained.

  Kirion rushed by, loosing glowing arrows. Three struck the same leg Benedict’s sword was in, and ethereal chains reached straight to the ground, dragging it back down. Shiyo sliced clean through the leg, and it disappeared into a dark misty smoke. Benedict’s sword clattered to the ground.

  “Lose your sword?” she asked.

  “Funny,” Benedict groaned as he snatched his sword from the ground.

  He rolled out of the way as a leg slammed into the ground next to him. More of Kirion’s arrows pierced it and held it in place with the chains. Benedict finally managed to land the Viper’s Curse, and he didn’t even lose his sword. Shiyo followed up with a slice, and it recoiled away. They didn’t wait for it to come back down and moved on to the next. It had only lost one leg, but even that slowed it slightly.

  The potato spider jolted and stumbled backward, scrambling with its legs to find purchase. Ordra launched himself forward with one of his shields glowing and slammed the edge into the potato spider. Shockwaves burst from the contact point and threw it back. Ordra continued forward, jumping high and bringing the other shield onto it. With that hit, the construct burst into mist.

  “That was something,” Wren said.

  “Be honest, did you tell it to go easy on us?” Ordra asked.

  “I didn’t know how aggressive we needed it to be. I’ll control it myself this time, how about that?”

  “Sounds good to me.” Ordra turned to the group. “Objections?”

  After a unified “No,” Wren cast his spell again. This time the potato spider moved faster and hit harder. With every strike of its feet, Benedict felt the ground shake, and more than once he almost lost his balance. Nearly every attack he made missed, and a leg slammed him to the side.

  Amalyn landed next to him, also hit by a leg. Benedict drew a healing draught from his coffer and offered it to her, while downing his own. She took it gratefully, and he went back to the fight, only to have the wind knocked out of him again. In short order, everyone else lay on the ground, injured and exhausted.

  “That’s probably the level we need to train for,” Ordra groaned.

  “I’m not built for this,” Kirion said.

  “Does anyone feel this is a mite unfair?” Amalyn asked.

  “Unfair is the very nature of a dreadlord,” Shiyo said.

  Wren cast another spell. Relief washed over Benedict’s body. His bones reset, his muscles pulsed with new life, and the pain disappeared. Everyone else must have felt the same, as they rose to sitting positions. The conjured beast stood in place, unmoving.

  “Shall we try again after a short rest?” Wren asked.

  Everyone answered with silent nods.

  Benedict cast his eyes back to the riders, still at their own training. Finally, one of them had made it to the end. His eyes settled on Amalyn, who was staring at Red Wings again.

  “You can talk to him anytime,” Shiyo said.

  Amalyn’s face turned bright red. “I don’t need to!”

  “Need and want are two different concepts.”

  “Yes, and I refuse to want it.”

  “You’re more transparent than water, Ama,” Kirion said.

  “Just like you, then,” Amalyn retorted.

  “This can go on,” Ordra said to Benedict.

  “I know,” Benedict replied. “I’ve seen siblings go at it before.”

  The riders went back again. Red Wings didn’t notice Amalyn’s stare even when he glanced in their direction, much to her chagrin. Benedict turned his attention inward. His body felt like it had recovered from a coma. He stood and stretched, then something hit his head like an icepick. Shiyo winced at the same time and grabbed her head.

  Ordra stared at them. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know,” Benedict said, willing the pain to leave. “Do you not feel it?”

  A horn sounded from the riders, loud and desperate.

  Shiyo’s eyes went wide. “It’s here!”

  “Everyone, ready yourselves!”

  The riders charged out of the stone towers with Red Wings bringing up the rear. He was turned in his saddle, casting real spells behind him. Benedict caught sight of movement in between the stones, then it charged into the open, legs flailing from its furry body and single, unblinking eye staring ahead. Spells landed on its form and fizzled against the dark fur. It reached out with one of its humanoid hands, grasping at Red Wings.

  “No,” Amalyn whispered.

  Ordra held her by the shoulder. “Let it come to us.”

  Arms flailed as the dreadlord grasped at Red Wings. More magic flew in from the other riders, still fizzling out. The dreadlord halted its movement and focused its eye on the last rider to shoot it. Its eye flashed. The rider couldn’t scream, as his chest disappeared in an instant and he flopped off his horse and onto the ground.

  Red Wings rode in close, guiding his horse expertly between the arms. It didn’t last. A hand grabbed him right off his horse, then slammed him into the ground over and over. When the dreadlord released him, he crumpled into a bloody heap, unrecognizable as a person. Benedict felt bile pushing into his esophagus.

  The dreadlord wasn’t finished. It charged the other riders, halfway to the trap. They circled and cast spells that should have been powerful enough to stun it, none of which did. Its eye flashed again, but this time no one was hit. The ground just beyond them exploded in a fury of smoke and flame.

  Even with all their speed, the horses could barely keep away from the dreadlord’s grasping limbs. A sinking feeling hit Benedict’s stomach as they all closed in on the trap. It used its eye beam again, this time not aiming at the riders, camp, or barricades. That shot hit the trap. The covering of grass and leaves flared, and the weak wood underneath exploded.

  Ordra stared at the scene. “It… knew… how?”

  “We underestimated it,” Benedict growled

  The feeling earlier… it sensed them, the exact same way Benedict and Shiyo just a couple days ago. Benedict readied his sword. Across from his, Wren began drawing a new set of runes. Shiyo glared ahead like she was trying to produce her own eye laser, but her sword trembled with her fingers.