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No.

Yu stared up at Imbiad.

Just … no.

No way in all the cursed, snow-rotten corners of the world.

No matter how much he tried to swallow it, Yu could not get behind that kind of boundless brotherly love.

He had doubted this suicide mission from the very first time he heard it. And that doubt had only grown sharper with every step up this mountain. It had never made sense. Not then. Not now. Not even with more people, more plans, more maps, more weapons. The idea was cracked straight through; you could build neither hope nor honesty on that. If a handful of fighters and one grieving brother were all it took to breach the Shaira, someone would have done it decades ago. Apparently, others had tried, way back. Every one of them, every challenger who went up the mountain had one thing in common: they never came back down.

So what, then? It was all … just a lie? Imbiad knew the raider-guards and had introduced himself just for show? They all skipped the reading and now just pretended guild procedures?

"Wait," Yu said suddenly, as the thought snapped into place. "Sorry — You said some of us? Only some of you came through Noratellems? Not all of you together?"

"Have we not told you?" Imbiad said without turning. If anything, he turned further away from Yu. "Nion and Branwen came from the Snowtrail. Harrow and Bawal resided in the Barnstream region. I and the others came from the south. Harrow met us partway, near the riverlands. She guided us through the crossings."

"Oh. Right. Yes, of course."

But it did not help. It changed nothing. If anything, it made —

"Why are you asking me this, Yu?" Imbiad's voice was sharp now, cutting against the wind. "Here and now? You were told of our origin and intent when we met. Or at least, over the course of our journey."

"I … Well, I mean …"

Yes, he should know. They had told him — probably. At some point. But Yu had not been listening. Not back then. Not when all he could think about was how Tria had sold him out, when he had dumped all his anger for her betrayal onto them. Not when every step he took was poisoned by exhaustion and every word they spoke sounded like an accusation. Half the time, Yu had been too busy thinking up insults for them, rehearsing cutting replies they would never hear. The other half, he was fighting off the mountain sounds — those strange, distorted echoes that clung to him like frost in his ears. Trying to shut them out had twisted real conversations into noise.

This conversation now must not break. Yu needed to uphold it. More, he needed to direct it.

"I just thought … I just wondered about the witch … And because of her, I thought of the Shaira. And then of the settlement raids in general. I'm from the settlements, sorry, you know that. And then I thought of Fallem's brother, who was also taken, and then all that about your plan just sort of came back to me."

It was a sorry excuse for all his questions, a thin bridge over a flood of suspicion. Still, his stupid stuttering had given Yu more time. Because now, when he asked about all the things he should know, to learn of them a second time, it was not to hear the story again. Now, amidst all his dumb babbling, he really listened to Imbiad. He listened to the words that came from the voice, and he also listened to the body. Yu listened to hear where the body betrayed the voice. And Imbiad had noticed.

"Was the witch a Shaira?" Yu asked, following up with an honest question before the silence turned hostile. "They said she wasn't. The ker said she wasn't in a coven. Was that a lie? Is that why you were cautious? I mean … with the witch, when she came, and now?"

"Amongst other things. It is general caution. But I do not believe her to be a Shaira."

"Oh. Right."

Yu had no idea if Imbiad had bought his pathetic attempt at a distraction. He also did not know how to tell witches apart, or what those other things Imbiad had spoken of could be. But even now, with every word sparse and uninviting, Imbiad's body still told him nothing but I am true, and I speak true. Yu wanted to trust him so badly it made him sick. It was in the wanting. The wanting was a weakness. He hesitated precisely because of it. He was too desperate to find someone safe.

He was also desperate for time. Imbiad would not stay much longer. Yu could tell. The witch was long gone. The others, as he overheard now, were nearly finished acclimatising. And most of all, Imbiad's breathing had shifted. Subtle. Barely there, just underneath. Not hostile yet, but guarded. He had grown wary of Yu. He was wary, because, as good as Yu was at hearing, he was terrible at talking. Terrible at asking questions in the right order. At masking suspense and suspicion behind casual tone. At sliding from one subject into the other without catching on every edge. At using shifts in pitch and tone and timing to sound, well, … likeable. He was too dumb to even play dumb, because he needed so much time to think, so much breath in between, and just so many pauses.

It was the same now. Too many questions swarmed his mind, pressing against his beak, fighting to spill free. Yu clamped them down. Hard. The next one had to be smart. It had to count. His life was on the line.

He forced his earlier thoughts back into place. So Harrow's party had come together from different regions — what did that mean for him? How did that matter? It did not. It made no difference. It did not contradict his suspicions. Rather, it confirmed them. It meant they were part of something large and layered — a syndicates so widespread that its members gathered from all over the continent. The kind of network where no one could possibly know everyone involved. That probably was the point. There were organisations like that, which operated on more and less secret things, with more and less secret people. The Crimson Circle was the most obvious example.

Going from there, Harrow's "party", if you could even call it that, was just a front. A loose mesh of criminals from different places and ties, but taking over the guild under the same banner. Some knew each other well. Some barely. Some knew the raider-guards, while others, like Imbiad, did not, which explained why he had introduced himself to Tirran.

And that was it. That explained it — the inconsistencies amidst the strange ease that framed their arrival. That quiet ease that was not familiarity, just the absence of suspicion. Not blind trust, but a shared script, already memorised.

As soon as Yu understood that they were pretending, that they were all preparing for their own agenda, he knew:

There is no one I can tr u s t .

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The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

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Yu struggled not to pass out from the last void breath. The cold pressed in on every side. The orb light at the corner of his vision was fraying black. His gut twisted in quiet, tightening circles as one thought refused to leave him:

Why did he still want to trust Imbiad so badly?

Even now, when everything, every crack in the story, every gap in his answers, screamed that nothing about this wizard should feel safe. Imbiad had not given him one solid reason to trust him. He was here to support Fallem, and Yu hated Fallem.

So how could these wizards feel so different?

Yu wiped his eyes. He rubbed hard at his earholes.

There. There it was, hidden inside the asking. Like a sound so high-pitched that you needed to know it was there to hear it. But the moment you did, it hurt sharp as a thorn.

Imbiad and Fallem were different. They must come from different places, not just geographically but also figuratively. Yu remembered just how often they had argued; the small, needling disagreements over their use of magic. It had always been subtle and civilised, which was why it had seemed so harmless at the time. And that were just the conversations Yu had noticed. Considering how many more private disputes he must have missed, it showed just how unfamiliar the two wizards were with each other.

That was the thorn question; -

Just how long, and how well, did these people actually know each other? -

When they had travelled together, Yu had assumed, stupidly, that they were all … well, friends. That shared laughter meant shared history. That inside jokes meant a lifetime of personal stories. But when he reached back in his mind, trying to reassemble those moments, there were holes everywhere. He was not so sure if he had ever really paid attention to how they behaved toward one another. Who had walked or sat or slept beside whom? Who had slowed when someone fell behind, and who had made it a point not to let it happen in the first place? Who had actually listened when another spoke, and who had only waited for their own turn? Yes, Fallem and Imbiad had argued about magic, that much he remembered. But other than that …

Yu had no … reference to determine closeness or to measure friendships, not really. All he had felt in those four weeks was his own position as the outsider. He was the least included, the least liked. But that did not mean the rest of them liked each other equally. It did not mean they were close, even though it had felt just like that. Of course it had seemed that way from the periphery. It always did, when you stood on the outside looking in. But looking back now, Yu had this growing suspicion that they were not as unified as they appeared. That maybe … they were keeping secrets from one another.

Could it be, just maybe, that … only some of them were in on it? That not all, but only a few, belonged to the syndicate? What if there were overlapping agendas — Some knowing, some not? That would explain so much more.

Say Fallem really was searching for his brother. He had even spoken of recruiting another ker for the rescue. If that was nothing but a fake front, then why had he been so anxious? Why had he spent the entire day hovering in the common room, pacing and waiting? Was it not because of her? That general who was also absent, conveniently "on patrol", alongside the captain.

What if Fallem, too full of love and worry for his brother, had fallen for the lie just as Yu had, and had been waiting ever since?

So maybe Fallem was true to his word. Maybe Imbiad really wanted to help. Maybe their plan was sincere they really wante to go —

No. Stop.

Nothing could change the utter absurdity of this rescue plan.

If some of the people around Harrow were not part of the syndicate, then they must be here for something else entirely. Something they would obviously not share with a random nobody like Yu, so they concocted Fallem's brother story instead. They could still need the ker general for this something else. What was it? Treasure? Lost artefacts? Hidden knowledge? Wizard secrets buried beneath the Albweiss ice? It could be something honourable and good, even. Or something dangerous.

And Harrow — how did she fit in? Maybe the wizards had revealed their true intent, to recruit her as their guide or extra muscle. And maybe she would come along, just long enough to foil their plan or steal what they were after. If loyal to the witches, Harrow the Witch-Blessed might deliver the two wizards straight to the Shaira. If in direct league with the shaman mouth-monster, she could just as easily make them disappear, if needed to cover their syndicate's tracks.

What if … she only needed to get rid of one wizard?

What if Fallem was part of the syndicate … and Imbiad was not?

That would explain Yu's twisted emotions — why he despised one and clung to the other. Fallem could have dragged Imbiad into his something else plan under false pretenses, dangling the brother's rescue as bait. And once Imbiad's ice magic served its purpose, the syndicate would get rid of him too.

And the rest of the party? If there were others who were not syndicate – those who would not slip away to pursue their own personal journeys, those who would not simply mind their own business, like Yu very much failed to do just now – then they could surely be eliminated as well. It was too easy to make people disappear in the Albweiss. Even a powerful wizard like Imbiad. The witch encounter had proven that.

-

A door creaked. Estingar stepped into the common room. The travellers remained in the walkway.

-

"Was she powerful? The witch, I mean?" Yu blurted. "Was it her who stopped your magic?" It was blunt. Obvious. Too fast.

Imbiad did not reply. The pause stretched.

It made Yu hurry even more. "I mean, sorry, I'm just trying to understand what happened. It was the first time that I ever saw a witch up close. It was all … very fast. A lot. For me."

"She defended herself," Imbiad said at last. His voice carried a bitterness so pronounced it was like tasting salt in clear water. "But the one who deflected my ice magic was the shaman."

Yu had feared as much, but he needed to hear it. "How?"

"A deflection pulse."

"What's that?"

Imbiad's gaze dropped to him. And there it was, so sudden and unexpected, but just as obvious as with Fallem; a wizard's disdain for a wizard bastard.

"I don't know magic." Yu said it straight out, though his fear of the shaman did well to suppress his anger. And then, because he was acutely aware that Tirran's hearing might be sharper than his distance suggested, Yu added, "Magic like that, I mean."

Imbiad should know. He should know that Yu could not do any magic whatsoever.

"What did you feel?" asked Imbiad, his voice no less bitter.

"When the magic disappeared, you mean?"

"Yes."

"It felt like … weight. I mean, I couldn't move."

Imbiad gave a single nod and then turned his gaze back down the stairway. "You know that the world is filled with energy, which various peoples absorb to different degrees."

"Yes. Adhar." Yu was not that stupid.

"A presence is your own energy felt by others. You may —"

"Rothar."

Imbiad paused.

"Sorry," Yu said quickly. "I didn't mean … I mean, for interrupting."

"Your presence is realised through Rothar, yes. You may learn to expand your Rothar beyond the boundaries of your physical body, and even direct it towards others. You can push it to such an extent that it disrupts their energy intake and flow."

He was lecturing now. Detached.

It was too much information, and it came too slowly.

-

Doors. Estingar came out of the kitchen, crossing toward the entrance.

-

"A presence like that can make beasts quiver," Imbiad continued. "It can make people falter. At its most powerful, it can disrupt magic entirely. That skill you witnessed has many names. In Teh, it is commonly referred to as a deflection pulse. Wizards, witches, and familiars can all learn it. Though it comes at great cost of Rothar. The Jabarrah applied it as well —"

"What's that? — Sorry."

"The bird. A female Jabarrah. Quite young. Her beak was not yet pronounced. Most likely the witch's familiar."

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Another door open and shut as Estingar returned into the walkway.

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"It did the same? It did — I mean, it cast a pulse?"

"To the immediate surroundings, yes. Around itself and the witch."

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Estingar told the borman and the krynn that the medical room was ready, handing them what must be another set of towels and final reminders.

-

Yu pressed on, words spilling faster. "So shamans can learn this skill? Because you said wizards, witches, and familiars can. But the shaman used it. Was she a witch before? If familiars can, then does that mean all sorts of beasts —"

"Yu." A voice cut through behind him.

Tirran stood behind him.

"Leave Imbiad be for now. You are done out here. Go inside and assist Bubs."

As Yu turned, Estingar slipped through the door.

Yu stared. Then he nodded, stiffly.

And then, the instant the thought of Bubs and kitchen connected, a hollow emptiness exploded in his gut. He was starving. When had he last eaten? He could not remember. He needed water. He also needed the bathroom, which, much too sudden, became one of the more pressing matters, literally.

Yu rushed for the door. He had crossed the whole platform before he realised that he should have given some sort of Thank You to Imbiad. But by then, it was too late and too awkward. So Yu just hurried to press his arms and full weight against the massive double door next to Estingar, to push it open. It did not budge.

"Did you know," Estingar started, "that when they have a place where they want to keep people out, they build the doors to open outward? But if they don't want people to get out, they open inward?"

Yu hesitated for a moment. "Uhm, no." Then he tried again, really pressing his whole body against the metal.

"It's pull," Estingar laughed.

Yu stopped the dumb thing he was doing and yanked the door open.

Estingar's arm shot out. He shoved the door close again. "But hang on. There was a lot going on with you."

Yu froze. His gaze darted from Estingar to Tirran and back. They would not —

"Did you notice something?" Estingar asked, amusement flickering in his voice. "Hear anything weird?"

"What? Yes, well, no —" Yu stammered. "I mean — Wait, what do you mean?"

Estingar drew in close. "You tell me."

Yu's mind was chaos thrashed by questions and fear and desperate plots to get the fuck off this mountain first chance arising. The result of this mental mess was a complete frozen fina-instinct dead-stare right into Estingar's face.

And the consequence of that was that Estingar leaned even lower. "You heard heartbeats before. What else? Something from the mountain? Something from the witch?" His voice dropped to a whisper, sharp between needle-teeth. "Or maybe, from the shaman —"

"Estingar." Tirran's voice cut through the hush.

Estingar straightened. There was a heavy exchange of glances — at least on Estingar's part, who had fallen silent in an instance. Even the soft clicks of his coded communication with Deltington stilled.

"Yu," Tirran said, low and final. "Go inside now."

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