“Are you sure you don’t have a spell or something that can just teleport us into the city?” Kryos whispered, nudging the large, snow-covered grimoire that looked as if it would squash the man that lay next to him. “You could have overlooked it.”

“You already know the answer to that,” Cor murmured back, not even bothering to glance at Kryos through the darkness of the Raiaerian night. His gaze remained fixed a hundred or so yards ahead, where roadside torches lit the gate leading into the city.

“Besides, even if I did, it would attract even more attention than this plan.”

“I suppose,” Kryos sighed, feeling the heat and moisture of his breath condense on his cold cheeks, reminding him of how much he wanted a break from the elements. “Should be any minute now.”

The pair waited silently as each moment dragged slowly into the next. They tried to forget the cold and the softly accumulating snow that worked to bury them. Within the safety, light and warmth of the gate, a small contingent of soldiers vigilantly monitored for danger. Their battered and repaired armor displayed evidence of many battles, while the shining edges of their weapons shone as only beloved equipment could. Their diligence, both to their post and to their gear, told Kryos the only thing he needed to know about this group. They had survived the Corpse War. Yet even despite their experience, the enticing song of sleep called to them from within the silence of flames licking the falling snow. Every so often their gaze would become glazed over and only the frigid, seaborne air piercing their lungs would bring them back to the present. They knew all too well what dangers lurked in the darkness of the Raiaerian plains, even as far west as Beinost.

Finally, movement stirred within the tunnel, followed by the soft patter of boots on cobblestones. The final watch approached, pulling the attention of both the stationed guard and the two beyond the lights’ reach.

Kryos pushed himself up to a crouch, shaking the snow from his cloak.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

He set off at a quick jog, urging his blood to start flowing and his stiff, unwilling muscles to move. His stride found a brisk rhythm, as fast as possible without alarming the now distracted guard. Had one of them turned towards him, they would have seen two glowing, silver eyes appear, bounding closer and closer. He reached the light’s edge, form emerging from the shadows like a wraith. One of the guards paused, hand instinctively reaching for his sword.

A wave of pulsatile energy blew past the Dwiilar and slammed into the men like a wave crashing upon a cliff face. Their souls stuck to the necromantic magic like glue as it raced by, if only for a split second, before rushing back to their bodies with an almost audible snap. The group convulsed and collapsed in unison. All save one.

A glimmering disc of pearlescent magic hovered in front of the mage, absorbing the brunt of Cor’s attack. Kryos closed the gap between them before the elf could prepare a counterspell. In one fluid stroke he drew his sword and brought the hilt hard to the base of the wizard’s skull. The mage promptly joined the pile of his comrades.

With the immediate threats to their discovery dealt with, Kryos sheathed his blade and began concentrating. After a moment, his ocular ability activated and he sensed the presence of all those around him. From the unconscious guards at his feet to Cor, making his way to him from the fields, and finally to the movement above him within the great outer wall of Beinost. Finding no cause for alarm, he waved his companion over.

“Any trouble?” Cor asked, slowing to a halt beside one of the small, grated fires. The orange glow lit up the Archivist’s face beneath his amaranthine hood.

“Not at the moment, but that could change any second.” He waved to the collapsed bodies. “How long will they be out?”

“Not long, but long enough. And they shouldn’t remember anything. Except for this one.” Cor stepped carefully around and knelt beside the elven mage Kryos had incapacitated. “He knows the flavor of my magic and your face, and that could be troublesome.”

Taking a step into the tunnel, the swordsman motioned his head onward. “Whatever you do, be quick about it. Just remember, killing him will bring even more trouble.”

The Archivist didn’t bother responding, his gaze locked on his victim. A sinister, crimson glow appeared around Cor’s hands, and he placed them around the poor boy’s head. Kryos turned away and jogged deeper into the tunnel, being careful not to miss any surprises in the form of guards along the way. While the outer wall boasted the height to brush off any siege towers or scaling efforts, its true strength lay in its girth. The numerous doorways that lined the tunnel testified of this, no doubt leading to armories, stairs to the ramparts above and possibly even sleeping and living quarters to be utilized during times of war. Having been built by those who lived during the Siege of Anebrilith, this city contained the strengths that its predecessor never did. The only way in, as far as Kryos had seen, was through one of the five main gates. They had chosen the northernmost entrance to slip through, as it empties directly into the Market District at the northwest part of the city.

He froze, hand reaching out to steady himself on the dark, stone wall that glowed with torchlight. His eyes darted above him, to the sides, below. The three guards he could detect within this area of the wall hadn’t moved, hadn’t sounded an alarm. Yet Kryos was sure that someone, or something, had noticed him. A chill ran down his spine as the scent of burning oil mixed with winter air filled his lungs. Trying to shake the feeling, he focused on the texture of the smooth stone under his hand. He paused, head turning to inspect the wall. He leaned in closer. Closer still.

“Something the matter?” Cor’s strong voice murmured from behind him, breaking his concentration and with it, the unnerving feeling that made his hairs stand on end. He looked a moment longer at the wall. Whatever he had felt had vanished. He turned his mind to the three guards. One of them was moving towards the end of his range.

“No. Nothing to worry about. We’re clear.”

They reached the other side of the wall within moments. Before them, the wide street splintered into darkened paths that led in every direction into the city. Enchanted lamps lined the main cobblestone path that continued on straight ahead, as well as two other roads that followed the edge of the wall. Their light illuminated the large square that occupied the immediate area just inside the wall, filled with empty stalls and booths used during the business hours. Buildings of near-elven design rose up into the night at the edge of the marketplace, golden trim spiraling in intricate designs of impossible complexity while snow drifts settled in the recesses of the steep roofs. Kryos felt a small brush of nostalgia warm his mind. If only it could warm his body as well.

They made their way quickly into the square, weaving between the stalls and over empty baskets and barrels. They aimed for an unlit path heading east into the city, where they could find a place to hole up and get warm before beginning their mission. Kryos smiled, relishing the thought of a warm fire.

“You there!” A deep, bear-like voice rang out through the silent, winter night. The two men stopped at the edge of the marketplace. “Identify yourself!”

Kryos peered over his shoulder. Three men were approaching from the far end of the square, along the road that ran beside the wall. Two of them wore the armor of the city guard, while the other wore a wide-brimmed, pointed hat and a coat, each designed with colorful, arcane swirls. A wizard from the College Arcana. His mind raced through his options. If it was just the guards, there wouldn’t be a problem, but the wizard added an unknown variable.

As the guard in the middle of the group called again, their course of action became clear. To stay would risk waking the entire district or even city. They would need to take their chances and run.

He glanced at Cor, whose face remained hidden by his hood. Hopefully the colossal tome on the Archivist’s back hadn’t been noticed yet. Kryos smiled.

“And away we go,” he whispered.

Together they disappeared into the darkened embrace of the the city of Beinost, the sentry’s shouts echoing behind them as they ran.