Hiro Faryn knelt by an overturned, bloodstained cot in an abandoned infirmary ward. Several gashes were on his left forearm, which was bandaged, coated in some slimy, burning salve; this had been applied in haste by a healer, who had been gone for hours. Hiro tightened his grip on the handle of a bloody shield he was holding and drew a sword looted from another dirty ward earlier in the day. An enemy entered the room minutes later, and was run through quickly.

  Hiro pulled his weapon clear and looked up in time to watch as another perilous foe rushed in. Hiro watched as the enemy was cut down by the only other person he'd found in the lower wards. The person was a knight, and Hiro met him many hours ago. Or that was what he'd thought. According to the knight, Hiro had met the man as a child; he struggled to recall ever seeing the knight's face, but it wasn't coming back to him yet.

  The knight wiped his blade with a rag from his belt. Luran, he had called himself. The weapon he held was a Raiiya made saber. Hiro had once tried to buy one from a traveling merchant – it would have cost him 3,000 in gold currency. 3,000 gold coins was a price too great even for a three-time war quest champion, not something given as normal pay very often. Mostly, Hiro received paper notes made by the local treasury. He'd been able to wield one in the tournaments, at least. Mercifully, Hiro had been able to recover some of his own belongings – they had been recovered and sent to him – but not his swords, however. Hiro now had his clothing, his belt, and leather training gear. Those were in a chest in the room when Hiro looked, in front of the cot where he lay convalescing for weeks. The damage to his lungs from the smoke was not severe, and the healers in the infirmary were talented and studious. Hiro wondered about a trainee he'd met early in his stay, possibly around his own age, a man with dark hair; this one was kind, and young – Hiro hoped the healer had escaped; he knew how dangerous the world could be.

  “They're getting smarter, Master Raiya,” called out Hiro. The knight turned to him and walked over.

  “Not smart enough, young one. Call me by my given name - that is Luran. I do not know what it means in your language, do not ask.”

  The assault on the infirmary was made by Runners, many packs of them. They passed the ward earlier, finding the doors blocked, but in his haste to escape, Hiro removed the pile of furniture and made too much noise; he and Luran were discovered.

  “You have my gratitude. I'm only a war quest competitor – but they are easy to kill, at least. You're a northman, then? What has happened – what led you so far south, and what are we fighting?”

  “I shall tell you later in full, perhaps, but suffice it to say I was followed here. I should have been more careful. As for what they are: we do not know how they first came to be, but they are called 'runners': some are former thralls of an ancient spellcaster, but most are feral beings left to fend for themselves in the wild; these bred on their own. My people have fought the latter remnant for an age now.

  “Cowards – they fled after their master was last defeated. That is why we northmen call them 'runners'. They ran from us. We have become immune to their tricks, but I do not know how they got past the border.”

  Hiro searched for more supplies in the other boxes and storage chests in the room. He dug into a ration pack full of biscuits and some sort of curried mush, a local specialty. The workman had taken a liking to the packs – even taking more than his share at his chosen guildhall, whenever he could – which his sister thought was amusing, if disgusting. “If we escape, what then? They might send more here. Shall we retreat before they send another wave of these young wretches?”

  The knight hesitated for some reason. He looked back at the doorway; Hiro was startled, thinking the knight had seen another runner, but Luran only continued his search. “We could, but I must wait here for the leader of my company. He said he would be coming back.”

  They waited a while, and spoke on the lore of the Raiiya people for nearly half an hour. Finally, Luran rose up, seeming to perceive something. Hiro thought he seemed unsteady on his feet. “Yes,” the knight said, “he is here at last, I was right.”

  Before Hiro could ask how the man was able to know, a flash like a bolt of lightning, violet in color, shot past the doorway. A runner staggered forward from the other side and dropped to the ground, its ragged clothing smoking and scorched by the attack. A second flash struck another enemy, who followed and rushed past its dead ally. 'They really are mindless,' Hiro thought, for a third and final runner was slashed across the chest immediately after the second flash, by a dagger; blood spatter hit the floor. Some black sludge polluted it.

  Hiro could see the dreadful, bubbling poison on its chest when it fell on its back, and some of the substance sprayed the wall. He could not see the face of the man who used the spell. The lantern-lit hall was too dark and his head was covered. Hiro backed away further into the room; he feared the man outside and the aura he seemed to be projecting.

  The knight was barely able to stand following the spells. Hiro turned away from him while the knight vomited profusely into an empty linen basket. When he recovered, Luran returned to Hiro's side at the center of the room, his breathing shallow and uneven. “Spell work can make certain people very sick. Especially if the caster is inept. Nothing to worry about.”

  The other man had not entered yet. He was checking the bodies of his kills. Hiro had not seen many lightning spells before, but it wasn't as if he'd seen casters fighting in years, anyway.

  “Inept?”

  Luran turned away and vomited again, onto the floor. “It is him, after all,” he said after a few seconds. He was speaking rather loudly, possibly on purpose, as he glanced over his shoulder when he said it, before turning back to spit, and pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. “He knows what spells do to me. I can't be the only one who feels this way.”

  The spellcaster shouted. He was still outside the room, giving direction to his companions – he had clearly not arrived alone. “Clear. Check the other wards. Squad One, sweep the upper floor and hold the building until you hear my summons. Two, cover the rest of this one and watch the entrance. Brelann, Kallan, in here, with me, as always.”

  Shiden Muiras strode into the room then, his scepter aloft. There was a faint glow coming from the sapphire on its top end. Hiro noticed his wariness – the enemy had been defeated, but Hiro knew how grim his friend was at the best of times. 'This', he thought, 'is one of the worst'. Two others came in following the spellcaster, a pair of ornery twin brothers. They waited by the door in the shadows, each with their crossbow in hand, their backs to the room, not aiming but facing it, checking their weapons out of habit. There were bolts already set for shooting.

  Hiro was rather elated. “You learned new spells, then?”

  Shiden approached his rescued allies and spoke first to Hiro. “So you didn't die, after all. I was afraid your wounds might have been too much of a hindrance, but you're still the best Quest contender I know. We tried to get here sooner, but Runners are everywhere now. And no, I still know the same few combat spells. You didn't pay close attention when we last fought together. Anyway, so Luran, you made it here. Alone?”

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  “Where were you?,” said their other companion. Luran jabbed a finger at Shiden's chest as he spoke, getting almost nose to nose with the spellcaster before backing off. “ I know I can trust Blue Company to work well in your absence – we're better without you at times – but you haven't been seen for weeks, not since the first day you arrived in the southlands. Had another evening with the lass? This. . .farmhand. . .he is good in a fight, but he isn't one of us. Get on with your plan. What do we do next?”

  The spellcaster went through the room checking bodies. “I will tell you later. Hiro, anything I should know before we leave?”

  “They're sending hunters after specific officers, as I expected, as I warned you they might, like the one by the table on the end of the row there, in the heavy armor. Convalescing here while others fight my enemies for me leaves a man time to. . .wonder,” Hiro replied, glaring at Luran, though the knight had already turned his back to Hiro.

  Shiden did not respond, but he went over to check the corpse Hiro had pointed out. It was on a table in a darker part of the ward.

  “He was assigned to the northern guildhall. They're to wear green cloth bands, tied on their sleeves, or one on the leg of their breeches above their greaves, when they're in the field.”

  Shiden shook his head. He looked at Hiro oddly, but a smirk appeared on his face after a few seconds. “Should I be worried about how you could possibly know about their custom? Very well, I'll ask you: 'what happened to him'?”

  “Whatever it was, Shiden, the chief of his assigned healers was terrified. He took some sort of a spine from the wound in the knight's shoulder, and took it somewhere. Forget him, he's dead. They're targeting specific people. Who could they consider a real threat – wanderers like you? There were no threats here, just a few foreign invalids and unarmed soldiers – like others I've seen recently.”

  Luran walked over another corpse. He was wiping his saber's blade with a rag; some kind of oil was on the weapon, bluish in color. “Not to worry – they wouldn't target someone like you. They were after officers, not farmers, or even your average War Quest competitor.”

  Hiro sheathed his own sword and stared at the corpse across the room. Shiden was still examining it. “Meager rags, minimal armor – they are such pathetic freaks, and they look hideous up close. But I did not ask for aid, not even from the Raiiya. If they aren't as incompetent as the ones we fought, I might. I did better than your people.

  “That is, if these runners are the same thing as the 'beast-men' I hear about on my delivery runs. I thought the northerners were supposed to keep them at bay.”

  Luran kicked a deceased runner's knife and knocked it away. He searched the gear belonging to the corpses on the floor for things to loot. “Hm? Yes, they are. So infantile – I hate commoners, and their tendency to dumb down everything, it's obnoxious. 'Beast-men'. Really! Well, do not get complacent because you killed a few whelps.

  “The runners are fodder – and you are nothing more than a potential servant to the real Enemy, like the things you slew.”

  Luran kept searching. He was still muttering; Hiro barely heard him, but he did catch some of his words. “Much worse than death. Should be content – hunters would not bother with you, stray pup. I'll show you invalid – maybe I can find you a damn mirror.”

  Shiden stopped examining the deceased knights and moved back to the others. The healers were strict in policy, and would have taken any foreign objects to study. There was no sign of the cause of the knight's demise.

  “He's right, though, damn it. Where are the northmen – if these runners got past their defenses, then something has changed. Some I've fought have been women and very young men, younger than our usual recruits. These have got to be from a recent clutch.”

  “Here, maybe, in the slums, or the marshlands,” offered Hiro. “Then it might be too late to stop a real invasion; but why was my villa attacked?”

  “Enough,” cried Luran. “There is no use speculating. Now, this is interesting – yes, I can sell this to healers. Very valuable.” He stood up with a bloody pouch he was rummaging in, and took something out. Hiro thought it looked like a vial full of black sand. Luran put the contents of the vial into a small canister he took from his own belt pouch. Hiro was right; it was a foul-looking, coarse, black substance.

  “Something worthwhile to retrieve. Worth a lot, here – they don't usually bring it on their excursions. One of the healers would want this – I might sell it back to one, for a tidy sum. I do not get paid much, you know?”

  Shiden breathed deep and paced back and forth across the room, thinking about his next directions to them. He kicked a fair amount of debris out of his way, piles of garbage and bloody linen rags strewn about the room. “Still using that excuse? Well – there are things I need to explain to Hiro. You had better listen too, Luran.”

  Shiden did not speak for some time after this despite his unease and his last words, but flipped an overturned cot and sat on it. Before the door, his friends Brelann and Kallan were fidgeting with their heavy armor straps, known to cause irritation and strain. No enemy was left to fight. Hiro found several throwing knives and put them into sheaths along the back of his shield.

  “I want out of here, caster,” said Hiro. “Tell me quick, so we can leave before more of these beasts arrive.”

  Shiden's face was blank as he responded, and Hiro had a difficult time discerning his friend's mood. “Fair enough,” Shiden replied. “But we cannot leave yet, I am waiting for a message.”

  After quite a while, another knight, in a much lighter armor set, stuck his hand in the doorway, passing a note to one of the twin brothers. Hiro watched the man leave, presumably to go back to his own post. Kallan read it, and signed wordlessly to Shiden with hand motions, and the spellcaster replied back in the same way. Hiro frowned; he was curious, but he had never seen such a thing done before. He wondered where Shiden learned to communicate in such a way. They did the same thing a few more times before Shiden stood up abruptly. It took half an hour to decide their next actions.

  “At last. Very well, I'll go north. The last message was from my mother's Order. I am not so sure of myself, but we have allies at the far end of the orchards, waiting to escort retreating forces through the forest.”

  “You're going away, again?” asked Hiro.

  “Not far, this time. Luran – watch him, he is very sneaky. Travel light, too.” Shiden and Hiro made eye contact for a moment. The spellcaster exhaled laboriously, considering his next words carefully again, as if expecting an outburst.

  “What about the captain? Saiya's father has not been here in a week. Shouldn't we wait for him?”

  Shiden glanced at the door as though he had remembered something. He threw his hands up. “You won't see him for some time, maybe. He has his duties – so do you. Leave the city and reach the others who fled. Go on.”

  Shiden nudged his friend in the direction of the door. He was nervous despite his outward demeanor and he exited the room ahead of the others, with Brelann and Kallan following after them. The long halls were dark. The armor displayed on the stands along the walls had scared Hiro as a young boy – Aurien had taken him to one of the other guild halls many times. This one was not so different – the culture was very homogenous in the southlands. There were paintings too dark to see, and planters along the halls, and unlit lamps. Hiro wondered if he was imagining the light mist gathering then, as a result of his trepidation, or if there was really – somehow – a way for the bad weather to come seeping indoors. There were no windows back in the ward. The lanterns rattled once in a while during their journey and their chains led up to the high ceilings; there were many halls in the place.

  The farmer had never liked the gloomy décor. Hiro hated the guildhalls, but he recalled the training he received, training which aided him in six years of the tournaments, and gave him his confidence – or bravado, as Saiya said it, after he won for the first time in his second year. There were no windows in the meeting hall, either, and no sign of life when Shiden checked it – but when the company reached the main hall, descending the stairs into the entry way, all knew there were problems to solve. The fog out of doors made it impossible to see the stars through the large glass ceiling over the staircase. When they reached the foyer, with its large collecting pool and the entry doors at the other end of it, the company knew there was something wrong.