Eight days passed while Renado prepared his group with some supplies. They increased their training extensively, uncertain what to expect after their teleport. Though many secrets were bound by the Tether and kept in Ren’s throat so as not to be spilled to the uninitiated, Ren was able to share with Ira the nature of teleportation—Journey spells, as the magicians described them. He explained to her that they would experience only a blink between here and there, but that a large portion of the time would have passed in the world when they arrived there.
Ira couldn’t quite comprehend it all. She wondered how this passage of time was determined and if the magicians could control it. She worried about never reappearing. She told Ren an old folktale of the magician, Roki, who had grown so fast at moving around with magic that one day he disappeared, never to be seen again.
After a few weeks of discussion, Ren eventually put her mind at ease. He gathered up his troop: seventeen of Urro’s crew, their captain, the four present survivors of Vanci’s Dispatch—loyal mercenaries all—and Ira and Virn. They marched through the town to the magician’s safehouse, all the while trying to mentally prepare for the unusual method of travel that awaited them.
Irrith did a quick count of their group before deciding, “We should walk to a nearby park, a grassy field large enough to accommodate.” The fifty-year-old woman turned away from the landing of her house’s front walkway, and called into the house, “Lotha, bring the guards.”
Lotha, Irrith, and four guards soon joined their parade. It wasn’t anything that Irrith had said, but Ren was suddenly unable to look away from her. They continued on their way, making way whenever other pedestrians became too numerous, but Renado didn’t watch the street. He watched the sorceress, without saying a word. After a dozen conversations with the woman, Ren thought he had a good idea of her mannerisms. She caught Ren looking at her, raised an eyebrow, and looked back ahead. Even that didn’t seem unusual, so what was bothering Ren?
As they reached the field, Ren realized what it was. This all felt too usual. While Irrith and Lotha positioned themselves between their guards, Ren glanced at Woodro and nodded ever so slightly. Woodro raised an eyebrow as he considered Ren’s meaning. Then he raised his other as it dawned on him.
Ren paced across the grass for a moment, as though leading his people into a central position but then he turned back to face Irrith. The sorceress opened her mouth to explain how she would cast the spell, but Ren spoke first: “Something feels wrong. Maybe you can answer a few things to put my mind at ease. Where are you sending us?”
“A town near Saanazar,” Irrith replied frankly. She shrugged. “Trellios.”
Ren knew Trellios. It was one of the largest harbours on Tieko’s Deep besides Saanazar itself. “That’s about four hundred miles away. Would we be walking or riding?” Ren asked.
“You’ll be teleported directly there…”
Ren rolled his eyes. His mercenaries had gathered behind him. “I understand that,” Ren barked. “To gauge the duration of the spell, what manner of travel would we have taken had we set out in—in—reality.”
Irrith smiled at Ren’s inability to put it into words. Journeying spells were based on the time it would have taken. To Renado, it was a strange sort of reasoning that necessitated the existence of fate. The sorceress did her best to offer an explanation, though this conversation was feeling more and more like an attempt at persuasion. “It’s never a clean math,” she said simply. “You could become bored of walking halfway there and hike west to Tieko’s Deep to sail the rest of the way. If you rode out from Ith on horseback, you’d need to go slow. There’s not many waypoints along the route where you could acquire fresh steeds.” Irrith took a deep breath, glanced at Lotha, and then looked back to Ren. “If you want me to tell you how long it’s going to take precisely, I can’t do that.”
Ren sighed. Was it all in his head? Was she hiding something or was his first Journey—sending him away from the Isle of Dusk against his will—shadowing his senses? He needed to be sure. All their lives depended on it, so he continued: “And then what? What’s the plan about the Grey Brethren anyway?”
“Why are you asking about this now?” Irrith asked. She stepped forward a half-pace, away from her conveniently close guards. “You could have come to me any of the last several days.”
“I just thought of it on the way over. Why do you have an issue answering?”
It was a snarky retort, but it did the job. Irrith sighed. “Ren,” she said. “Gravagan told me about your first encounter with magicians. I understand why you don’t trust us, but we have been working together without problem for months.”
This time it was Omma, the giant of a man who stood to Ren’s left. With his arms crossed, he leaned forward and rumbled, “Now she’s deflecting. ‘Without problem?’ We’re here. There were problems.”
Irrith’s guards slowly rested their hands on the pommels of their swords.
Ren raised his hand and rested it on his own. If it came to it, Ren would indeed fight them. He was certain that Irrith was a powerful magician, perhaps as powerful as the Mage Kings themselves. But Ren and his team, with casualties, had killed eight of them. And they would tear Irrith to shreds if she attacked them.
Instead, Irrith raised her hands passively. “This doesn’t need to come to a fight. I simply don’t have the answers to your questions.” She looked him in the eyes. She meant it. Maybe she had been honest with him this entire day, or maybe she had come to the same conclusion that Ren had about their odds. Either way, it was a manipulation.
And Ren was done with it. He shrugged and told her so. “I’m done with all your lies, all your scheming and backstabbing, and all of Gravagan’s horse shit.” Ren held out his fingers as though to push an unwanted presence away. “We’re gone.”
With that, Ren led his men back out of the green field and onto the street of Vagren. The passersby were blissfully unaware of how close they had come to witnessing a proper battle in the neighborhoods of their peaceful city.
Irrith’s voice drifted after him. “Don’t ever speak of what you’ve done, Ren!”
Renado didn’t even bother to look back. Woodro did, just to make sure the magicians would let them go peacefully. Then they continued down the street and lost line-of-sight. The rising sun brought out the chilly sweat that Ren had been fighting to control. He was done with those deceivers.
Ira, walking along beside him, said nothing. She didn’t ask what Irrith had meant by “what you’ve done,” and she didn’t ask what they would do next. She just followed him and supported him.
With their gear already packed, Renado and his band of wayward warriors marched out of Vagren and into the hillsides of the Radregar Highlands. Ren hadn’t the slightest clue where they would go or what they would do, but he walked with his head held high. The golden sun was setting the clouds on fire while distant birds travelled south. For the first time in a long time, Renado felt free.