Dowyr’s heart pounded as he tried to make sense of what was happening. Back at the Academy, he had managed to fall asleep, only for what felt like moments later to be awoken by rough hands grabbing him. By the time he had a mind to fight back, he and Weynon were already bound and getting stuffed into barrels. He had hoped that wherever they were being taken he would be able to channel, but Boredom remained blocked off. Who would be going to such lengths to kidnap them? The only reason he could think of was something to do with the war, but even that made no sense for them to be kidnapped. They’d be sent off to it anyway, wouldn’t they?

  After being jostled around for what felt like hours, everything stopped. He had heard voices throughout his kidnapping, but muffled and unintelligible. Only now did he hear something loud enough to understand.

  “Yes, I need to talk with them.”

  He heard the lid of the barrel shifting and turned his head up as much as he could. The smallest amount of light spilled in, and two faces stared down at him. He was surprised to recognize one of them. Thick arms reached in and pulled him out of the barrel as if he were as light as a feather and placed him on the side bench of a covered wagon. He stared at Elethe as the man pulled Weynon out and sat him on the opposite side.

  Sorry, Elethe signed with a sad but guilty expression.

  The man leaned against the front wagon seat and looked between Dowyr and Weynon. “I’m sorry for the rough introduction. I didn’t want things to start this way, but I ran out of time. First of all, I’m not your enemy, you don’t need to be afraid, but I understand if you feel otherwise. The war scares us all. That’s why Zion’s Halberd was invoked. Today is Conscription Day in Elyssanar, but for us it’s day one of ending the war. I stole you boys from the Academy because I need you. Your records have been scratched, no one in the city knows where you are, and no one will come trying to find you. If you try to run, my men will catch you, but I promise you won’t be subjected to the Halberd by my hand. You’re too important to me. From here on you are under my complete protection. You may call me Garec or Captain, whichever you prefer. I need to see to some things with my men before we leave, but Elethe will answer any of your questions.”

  Garec nodded to Elethe then climbed out of the wagon. Dowyr stared after him then looked back at Elethe and she moved to undo Weynon’s gag. Dowyr stared daggers at her as she came to undo his. Too pretty a face to trust indeed.

  “I’m so sorry about this,” Elethe said. “I never wanted to hurt either of you, but it was the only way to… please try to understand.” Was she crying? “We’re trying to help. Garec took you to save you. The Academy was going to send all Emogicians with enough training to the war, no matter how young.”

  Dowyr was still blocked from channeling, and he couldn’t respond with signs while his hands were tied behind his back. He moved his arms up and down, and Elethe carefully untied the cords.

  After shaking and stretching his hands, he signed, we’re still going to the war, how is this different?

  “My uncle has a plan, and—”

  What sort of plan? An escape plan?

  Elethe hesitated. “No. I don’t know all the details, but our plan is to sneak into Kircany to kill or capture the man leading the war. I know that you two won’t be doing any fighting. He just needs your Emogics to help lead us to him.”

  Dowyr gaped. How in Hell’s name is he going to pull that off without his superiors stopping him? Or was he ordered to do this?

  “No, he wasn’t ordered. As for how, those are the details I don’t know about.”

  Dowyr grunted and finally noticed Weynon was still bound and staring off into nothing. Grabbing onto one of the barrels, Dowyr pulled himself up and hopped over to sit next to him and untied his hands, then waved a hand in front of his face to get his attention before signing, are you okay?

  Weynon nodded shortly.

  Now you’re the one lying.

  Weynon ignored him and looked at Elethe. “Why can’t I channel?”

  “My uncle Garec is a Voidspeaker,” Elethe said. “He’ll keep blocking you until he knows you won’t channel against us.”

  “I won’t.”

  “I know, but it’s not me you have to convince.”

  Voidspeaker? Dowyr signed. What Class?

  “Class 3.1. He’s the Captain of Second Assault Company. Donnan is his second-in-command if you remember him.”

  Dowyr nodded and laid his head back with a sigh. He was still tired, and sleep felt so far away. Trying to adjust into a comfortable position was difficult with his legs still bound, so he signed, can we untie our legs?

  “I won’t stop you,” Elethe said softly. “Remember what Garec said? You can run without worrying about the Halberd. But he’ll still bring you back.”

  Dowyr grimaced and untied himself and Weynon. He knew Weynon wouldn’t run off no matter what, and Dowyr knew when it was hopeless. There was no running, at least not while he couldn’t channel. No, not even if he could channel. He couldn’t manage the number of people who might come after him, and he couldn’t outrange Garec long enough. There really was no running.

  The grim reality made him shiver.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  “I can help them,” Weynon said, his voice unusually strong. “I can help stop people from fighting.”

  “That’s exactly why ye’re here,” a new voice said, startling the three of them. Donnan stood outside the wagon, and he took the barrels out to be replaced with crates filled with supplies. “Why we’re all here; te stop people from fighting. Not a job for the faint of heart though, ye need to be strong, mighty like Zion, fierce like Elysium. There lay the only way te freedom. Valhalla speaks it true: the weak wail behind the bars of their own working.”

  “I want to be strong,” Weynon said. “I just don’t know how.”

  “Believe first. And pay attention te the Captain; he’s the strongest man I know.”

  “But he’s a Voidspeaker.”

  Donnan barked a cold laugh. “We’re more than our Emogics, lad. Ye might want te ask him about his Apex though. There’s more to him than meets the eye.” He reached down and threw another sack into the wagon. “New clothes for ye both. Ye may want te get changed before we head out, no reason for anyone te think ye’re runaway students.”

  With that he walked off, leaving the two boys looking between the sack and Elethe, who gave an exhausted sigh and climbed out of the wagon and out of sight.

  “It’s cold,” Weynon said as he began to change.

  Winter will be here soon, Dowyr signed while looking through the sack to see what might fit him. At least there are coats.

  “Do you think we’ll reach the fighting before it snows?”

  Dowyr pulled off his shirt and shrugged. The border is about 800 kilometers away. It will take a month to get at least that far, maybe longer.

  Weynon finished changing into a plain coat and thick wool britches. “Maybe they have a Jumper.”

  “Not a Jumper to be found in Elyssanar,” a new voice called. The boys looked out of the wagon to find a young man holding a tent bundle. “They’re rare. Arkonia might have some low-Class ones. Kircany probably does too, and we can only hope they don’t have high class Empaths. This is for you.” He set the tent bundle inside the wagon. “The Captain said he’d found the last two boys for his plan. So, what are you? A Seer and Booster to help us avoid problems?”

  “I’m a Class 3 Druid,” Weynon said. “My friend Dowyr is a Class 2.2 Mind Intruder. He can’t speak.”

  The man looked at them quizzically. “Peace and Boredom, huh? Not sure I understand that when he’s got me and the big man. I’m Corporal Henric Dexund by the way. Let me take your Academy clothes, they need to be burned before we leave.”

  Dowyr had finished changing into the same as Weynon so he bundled up his Academy clothes and tossed them to Henric. He was surprised when they passed right through him and vanished into the ground. Henric looked even more confused, then a look of realization dawned on his face and he turned away with a roar.

  “DONNAN!”

  A chorus of laughter came in response, and Henric shook his head with his own laugh. “That’s the Lieutenant for you. He’s a Class 3.4 Ghost. Word of advice: tread lightly with the big man. Ghosts are scary as Hell, so don’t piss one off unless you’re willing to lose some internal organs.”

  Dowyr pursed his lips and let his imagination wander for a moment about the things a Ghost could do, and quickly decided to never try upsetting Donnan ever again. Ghosts, which used the Emogic of Yearning, could astral project and phase any physical material, including themselves, in order to move through solid objects. It was widely known to be one of the more dangerous Emogics. One couldn’t walk through walls while using it without falling through the ground, so the only way was to jump. Timing was everything.

  What sort of Emogician is Henric? Dowyr signed to Weynon, who asked the question after tossing him his clothes.

  “Seducer, Class 1.2. Nothing special. One might think poorly of a Lust Emogician, buuuuut... well, let’s just say it wasn’t your typical Apex of Lust. Garec brought me on board a year back to be his interrogator, though so far my skills of persuasion have gone unused. Who knows, maybe that will change soon. Gotta run now. You boys sit tight.”

  Dowyr sat down with an impatient sigh. The sun was just on the verge of appearing over the horizon, and the camp was almost completely taken down. He spotted Garec moving about his men, occasionally glancing in his direction.

  “When do you think we’ll get to have breakfast?” Weynon asked.

  Dowyr shrugged, but he still didn’t feel hungry. Hopefully his appetite would return at some point.

  I’m going for a walk, he signed. Too much was swirling around in his head to feel at ease, and he wanted to stretch his legs after being crammed into a barrel for so long, so he jumped out of the wagon and began to walk around. He didn’t get far before Elethe appeared out of thin air at his side.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  Nowhere, Dowyr signed.

  “Nowhere no longer exists. Haven’t you read The Five Sentinels?”

  Dowyr stopped in his tracks to give her the most annoyed look he could manage. The Five Sentinels and its fictional blank land of Nowhere was the last thing on his mind. Elethe wore a slight smirk, but it faded quickly.

  “I hope you know that I really am sorry about all this,” she said, and even managed to sound genuine. “When I learned that you were a Boredom Emogician, my uncle arranged for me to teach you. I didn’t want to, but he was going to be taking you either way. All three of us, you, me, and Weynon. I’m supposed to be his secret weapon, I think.” She glanced around and lowered her voice. “Only a handful of people know I’m Class 3.9. Most think I’m Class 2, and it’s better that way. My family didn’t want the church to find out how powerful I am because they might try to take me away, and we don’t want to risk letting our enemies know either. They’d send assassins or something like that. Please promise me you won’t say… or sign anything to anyone about this.”

  Dowyr stared at her in mild shock. Assassins were the reason she had been keeping that a secret? It sounded a bit extreme, but he supposed that was understandable in wartime. Worrying about the church finding out was entirely reasonable, of course.

  Okay, he signed. I promise. But only if you convince the Captain to let me and Weynon channel again.

  Elethe sighed with relief. “Sure. Easier signed than done, but I’ll do what I can.”

  She walked off to find Garec, and Dowyr decided his legs felt fine and there was no reason to continue his stroll. Returning to the wagon, he found Weynon still sitting inside, lost in thought staring at the floor. He looked up as Dowyr climbed in.

  “That was quick,” he said.

  I got bored, Dowyr signed with a brief smile. You good?

  Weynon nodded. “I don’t think I like Conscription Day.”

  Dowyr clicked his tongue. You mean day one of ending the war.

  “I guess.” He leaned back against the wagon and sighed. “I know I might be able to help stop people from fighting, but I wish none of this was happening. Is it wrong to just want to go home?”

  Dowyr sat next to him and shrugged. He thought of the orphanage, the only thing that had amounted to a home in his mind. Nothing about it gave him any desire to return. Seeing the world, even one at war, was far more exciting than returning to that life. But he worried what might become of the other orphans with news of the war. Would they be forced into the military? Or be put to working farms, smithies, or mines? Anything seemed likely, especially with Zion’s Halberd invoked. Not even children escaped the Halberd. He may not have particularly liked the other children there, but they didn’t deserve that. Some of them were so young they wouldn’t understand what was happening. Most of them, really. Dowyr had been the oldest, and easily the smartest.

  An unexpected rush of guilt overcame him, and he began to cry.

  I want to go home too, he signed.