Clera

"Shit," I spat when I saw the mass of people tripping over each other out of the inn. "They were supposed to be subtle."

One of the ashwolves was at my side in an instant and dispersed to reveal Grellik in all his hook-nosed, grey-streaked splendor. He was harried, but kept a cool composure.

"It appears Belwyn has made allies," he reported. "Fool started screaming fire and challenged our men to a duel."

I looked at him, a brow raised skeptically.

"Now is hardly the time for-"

"I loathe to say the words in all seriousness, Basleigh."

"Was he drunk?" I asked.

"Sober. But Ilarians rarely make sense either way," he sniffed in disdain. "There are two others with him. A man and a woman."

With a searching glance, I examined the crowd. By now neighbors and townsfolk were aware of the ruckus. They opened their windows and doors with bleary eyes, holding their children back from the chaos. Then I looked back to the remainder of my people, ten of them-three Memoriums, seven mages-awaiting my command next to their ashwolves.

"Disperse and contain the crowd. Try your best not to harm anyone. We want them willing to give information. Melrose, Vairn, you're with me." I ordered.

The young man and the older woman stayed by my side while the other eight mounted their wolves to secure the area. My own billowed over me, taking me with it through the throng of people, subtle as one's own shadow.

I would never get used to riding the ashwolves. The bodiless feeling and weightlessness always left me a bit queasy afterward. And the smell of smoke made me wrinkle my nose. Yet they seemed to heed my call better than most, save for Lord Dareth himself. My dear mentor Elbreck couldn't stand the things. Correction. Former mentor. I had graduated years ago. I had to remind myself of that. After all, we'd been all too glad to be rid of each other. Dareth's notions were one of the few matters on which we could agree.

Inside the inn, five of our men were standing. One lay on the tavern floor, unconscious and blood trickling from a crack to the skull. A wiry stood man stood over him, grasping a lute by the neck. A ragged scar marred his throat. Next to him was the definition of Ilarian beauty with a fan in hand. And what could only have been the ringleader smirked with cockiness as he idly held a blade. It was a weapon I knew all too well.

Does he even know who truly held that sword? I thought with an ironic chuckle. Such a food did not deserve what once belonged to the Weeping Woman. I gave a little tug on my glove.

The man grinned flirtatiously at my entrance, green eyes shimmering. I could practically see him puffing out his chest.

"If I had known you people had such a lovely leader, I would have raised hell sooner."

A flatterer, I thought. If I looked hard enough, I could see the trace resemblances between them. The nose, the black hair smooth as silk, the arched mischievous brows. It was amazing how some traits remained after so many generations. And how so much was forgotten.

"I assure you. I am the last person to be charmed." I told him as the wolf prowled behind me, nuzzling my hip and growling low in its throat. "I seek one thing and one thing only. Give me the Memorium and you shall not be troubled further."

The bard innocently tilted his head to the side. Yet his hold on the sword did not slack. Behind my back, my clasped hands fiddled with the knife tucked into my belt.

"Memorium? One of yours?" he clucked his tongue worriedly. "Is this how the order tracks down its rogues?"

"Compared to the order, this is merciful," I answered coolly. "I will say it again. Give us Memorium Belwyn and you shall be free to go. Continue to withhold information from us and we will have no choice but to take you into our custody."

"Belwyn...Belwyn...I'm afraid we have never heard that name. I don't suppose he's handsome, is he?" the woman finally spoke in a melodic alto, lips pursed in concentration.

Liars. All of them. Next to me, Grellick clenched his jaw in annoyance. How Belwyn had managed to gain such loyalty in such a short time was nothing short of peculiar, if not fascinating.

"Woman. Long red hair. Spectacles. Covered from head to toe." Grellick growled like a dog.

The three Ilarians looked at each other in confusion. The man with the lute shrugged while the woman tapped her fan against her creamy gold cheek. I glared at them. We were wasting time.

"Take them. Their memories will suffice." I directed.

Just as one of the Memoriums moved to grab one of them, the man with the lute smashed him in the face with it, a loud sour note ringing out.

"My, this will be over quickly," said their leader mockingly. "How sad."

With a snap of my fingers, the mages' hands began to glow with indigo light. Not a moment after the gesture was made, a flash of steel came flying at my face. For a moment, my heart stopped and I flinched. But a small thin blade clattered to the floor, a fading luminescence where it had hit the barrier in front of me. The woman who threw it wore a look of shock. I allowed myself a smirk.

"It pays to have mages, doesn't it?" I scoffed.

The handsome one's confidence faltered for one fleeting second. A sword was useless against a barrier unless it was enchanted. And you're damn lucky for that, Clera, else you'd have another nasty scar.

The men needed no more direction. They advanced upon the three, their own weapons drawn. But then, just as a sword tip neared the silent bard's shoulder, a cloud of thick smoke shrouded them. Are you fucking kidding me?

When the smoke cleared, they were of course, gone. If whatever they'd used had been enchanted, then they could be anywhere.

"Search the area and take any memories you can. I want to know where they're going and what they're planning," I ordered, struggling to keep my voice even, then looked over to the man on the floor. He wasn't dead.

"And someone clean this up," I added as I strode out into the cold.

Outside it was not quite chaos, but it was working its way up to it. Those riding the ashwolves were corralling the townspeople. It hardly helped the state of panic. Shit.

That was when one of the wolves swirled before me. One of the younger mages, a girl, fragile thing with wind-tangled hair, fell to the ground as the creature dissipated. She was clutching her chest and gasping for breath. I helped her to her feet, holding her shoulders to steady her.

"Take a breath, girl," I told her. "What happened?"

Eyes wide, she nervously swallowed and looked me in the eye. She was still shaking.

"Carter-he-he's dead," she sputtered. "Him and the wolf-they just-they burnt right up. They screamed so terribly!"

"What do you mean 'burnt up'?" I pressed, feeling my hands go cold. My breath was turning to fog before my eyes.

"The Memorium!" she burst out. "She-she threw a lantern and Carter-he-he just burnt right up in it."

"And the ashwolf?"

"Gone! J-just gone!"

The Memorium was proving more capable than I once thought. Barely a week and already she had allies and knew how to kill the wolves. Either Belwyn was extremely well-prepared or had the best dumb luck there could have been. The latter was unlikely. This had to be a plan she and Danyr had prepared beforehand. The Mockingbird had been nothing if not clever. It was a shame he couldn't have been persuaded. We would have to restrain the girl when the time came to prevent the same mistake.

I clenched my fist and looked back at the mage.

"Report to Grellick. He'll have something for you to do," I coolly instructed her, handing her a handkerchief to dry her tears.

She nodded and reluctantly made her way to him, the ashwolf but a wisp in the air behind her.

"Damn," I muttered to myself, pinching the bride of my nose. "Nothing can ever be simple."

Catching Belwyn should have been easy. A sheltered, bookish girl without her master was not an expert in survival. Perhaps Danyr had planned for his apprentice to be protected should tragedy befall him. That would explain her allies. But then why hadn't they come to Danyr's aid when the palace was taken? He should have been of higher priority than Belwyn.

I gestured to the ashwolf with a flick of the wrist and it swept me up. The acrid smoke filled my nose and I felt lighter than air. I did not need to guide the creature. It already scented its fallen comrade.

The buildings and frightened people sped by. I could only catch snippets of conversation, blurs of movement and color. It made me feel lightheaded. When the creature finally stopped and released me, I fell to my knees and had to take several deep breaths. They were hardly refreshing though, for the scent of wind and snow was overpowered by that of burning flesh.

When I looked up, I saw the charred remains of Carter. Weak flames still licked at what was left of him. Parts of his skin bubbled and boiled like a stew as smoke and steam rose from his corpse. His face lay frozen in agony, his mouth open in a grotesque scream. What little remained of his hair was singed. My stomach turned to look at him.

Behind me, the ashwolf whined and pitifully nudged the ashes of its fellow. A single coal lay in the center, still emitting a weak glow. It took the coal in its mouth, where it was swallowed in darkness.

"So you creatures can feel something," I observed, then returned my attention to Carter.

A lantern, she had said. But how did a lantern do all this? What the hell had been in it? Did Belwyn have an alchemist with her too? With what kind of group had Belwyn allied herself?

I hadn't known Carter well, but someone would have to tell his family. How that would go, I had no idea.

What I did know is that Dareth would want to know about this. I would need to send a report, then hope he would not give the task to another.

I knelt down to twist the ring off his finger. The finger broke apart. The black raven had been melted and warped into a misshapen mass.

Belwyn would be brought back alive. I would make sure of that. But I would make sure she had some repayment for this.