An explosion shattered the peaceful night of Keycol. Flames leapt up to the skies, turning the black into yellow and orange. The flames receded, lighting the streets of Keycol and throwing shadows all over the abandoned wooden huts that used to be the miners' homes until the nearest mines went dry. Over the crackles of fire, footsteps crunched on the rubble down the road. Denerin Raynott, state mage of Keycol, swept his black, rainbow-lined cloak over his shoulders, his hands opened in welcome challenge to his opponent.

"You dare take me on?" he called to the cloaked figure, whose features he couldn't decipher. The silhouette reflected very little light from the fire. "You've an awful lot of gall to think you have what it takes to beat a state mage!"

He flung out an arm. A crackle of flames was the only warning before white-hot fire rushed at the cloaked figure. He vanished.

"What the—" Denerin stared, astonished. Nobody had ever dodged his attacks before. He silently cursed this unlit part of town.

A shuffle of movement behind alerted him to the presence of his attacker. He spun around and threw out another hand. A burst of flames shot from him straight at the black figure. On contact, the flames dissipated. One surprise after another. Denerin grimaced, clearing his head to ready another assault. The cloaked figure gave nothing away: no sound, no more words since the ridiculous proposal.

"What are your thoughts on overthrowing King Pollin?"

What a ridiculous, treasonous suggestion.

"Identify yourself!" Denerin shouted, raising his hand. This man, attacking a state mage with magic, would be best behind bars and interrogated. He must be behind the attacks he'd heard about from the council recently, the so-called shadow man. "You will answer to your crimes for attacking state mages!"

The shadow man moved almost quicker than Denerin could see. One moment he was about twenty metres away, his features impossible to define in the dark; the next, he darted off the wall with deftness and lightness almost on an inhuman level and leapt at Denerin.

But Denerin was no amateur. He'd spent a considerable amount of time as a military mage. He batted away the flurry of attacks and sidestepped the ones that would have dealt considerable damage. This shadow man attacked with skills, not desperation, and with a calculated deadliness that made Denerin stay as much on the periphery as he could.

"You are trained in the art of fighting. Who are you?" he demanded. Yet again, nothing but silence since his refusal to participate. Denerin threw out a hand and flexed his wrist, his eyes narrowed. Blue flames spiralled, scorching the walls and the houses burst alight. For a split second, it lit up the assailant's face. Denerin's eyes widened. "Impossible!"

The assailant slammed a rune down. Orange blended with violet and absorbed the burst magic in its entirety. He shot forward, another rune in the palm of his hand. Denerin didn't have time to adjust. He threw his arm forward, but panic distracted him at the last moment. A spark ignited at the tips of his fingers but the flame never came. The attacker smashed the rune into Denerin's chest and gestured, leaping backwards.

Orange crashed into red and the rune exploded with enough force to shake the ground.

****

"Third case in a month already. We're dropping like flies," said Kommora, sweeping past the military personnel. Liore and Ash hurried after her. Kommora was never a fan of Keycol. It was too isolated. Too many mountains on either side and long winding roads to even access the place. The population was small, most of them labourers and miners. Even with the newly-built train station that ran south to Bicknor last year, there had been very little shift in the population and diversity. If not for Denerin Raynott's demand to be instated back at his place of birth, there would not be a state mage there at all and this would have become a town forgotten by magic and time.

Loose black rubble crunched under Kommora's stocky boots. The streets were lit, but most of the houses stood empty. The curious faces behind the windows had long been left behind; Kommora was now entering the more deserted, older part of town, where the previously-functioning mines stood. A sorry part of town. As the mines ran dry and new active ones were discovered further south, the population slowly but steadily also moved south to enable markets and work to take place. Judging by the dismal states of the houses and rusted carts, it had been several years since anyone had lived nearby.

Not unlike the isolated areas in which the previous two mage attacks had taken place. Three state mages completely incapacitated – and then two of those died – and King Pollin hadn't done anything, yet he would deploy military troops to take out some ruffians in Danaway for a probationary mage.

Military guards parted, making way for Kommora and her assistants to move through. The stink of doused flames and smoke made Kommora grimace. The low mutter between personnel silenced when they caught sight of her; the circle around the body stepped back. A mage knelt in the middle, long hair tumbling around her shoulders. The white light in her hands turned the blonde hair almost halo-like.

"Mage Rummage."

Mage Rummage looked up, a grim look on her young face. Her hands were coated in white chaos magic. No doubt she was one of the first dispatched when the news reached Benover. It was lucky for Raynott that Bicknor was only thirty minutes away by train. Although judging by Rummage's expression, that luck wasn't enough.

"Hello, Mage Haigh." She sounded exhausted. She turned back to Raynott, sitting on her knees. The light continued to glow, bathing his torso in its entirety. Kommora couldn't see his face from where she stood, engulfed by the shadows thrown by the magic.

"What's with the butcher's scene?"

"We got a report about it in Benover, Mage Haigh," volunteered one of Rummage's guards, a stoic man who was at least three times as wide as Kommora. "It was from a civilian here saying he heard an explosion so he called the nearest military outpost immediately. Nobody investigated it as it was past curfew; there's a rule in Keycol—"

"I know the bloody curfew tradition in Keycol."

He nodded. "Mage Raynott's guards were first on the scene about twenty minutes ago. We arrived a few minutes before you did."

"Where are the guards? Sobbing like little girls?"

He pointed behind her. Kommora turned. Two men sat in the corner, their heads buried in their hands, dressed haphazardly in their green military uniform. They looked as if they'd been dragged out of bed. They might actually have been, given the hour. She left Rummage to carry on her healing.

The military men besides the two guards snapped to alert when she approached. Liore and Ash lingered nearby.

"What the bloody hell happened?"

The two guards barely flinched. One of them looked up, ashen grey and bags beneath his eyes.

"I don't understand, Mage Haigh..." He swallowed. "It was a normal day. Mage Raynott dismissed us at about nine p.m. and we went home. We didn't hear from him again. That was normal. We would meet him at nine a.m. tomorrow morning."

"So what the hell was he doing here?"

"I believe Mage Raynott normally takes a walk around this side of town on a daily basis. His family used to live here. I think he liked to reminisce in his own time."

"At this hour?"

"Mage Raynott liked his privacy. He was very proud to be from Keycol."

A trained assassin who must have tailed him all day; how else would he have known Denerin would happen past this isolated part of the town, surrounded by trees and now-empty mine entrances and resting stops, at this godforsaken hour?

"Nothing strange happened all day?"

"Not at all. We accompanied him all day as usual. He had some errands to run with paperwork and then spent most of his day in his quarters writing. We weren't in the room with him but we were outside."

Not much from his guards, then. Rummage had ceased her chaos magic when Kommora returned. Her shoulders sagged. She rubbed sweat from her forehead and tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder, sitting back with a shake of her head.

Raynott's cheeks were sallow, sunk in. His mouth was half-open, as were his unseeing eyes. A gaping hole sat in the middle of his chest at least two hand-spans wide, the middle showing pink flesh, the peripheries charred and blackened. Without the chaos magic masking it, the stench of burned human flesh was quite overwhelming. Behind her, Liore gagged, covering her mouth. It was clear this man was long past saving.

Rummage tore off the gloves and stood up, shaking her head and putting a hand to her forehead.

"I'm no doctor, but he looks dead to me."

"There's not much potential for chaos magic here," Rummage said in a low voice. "Keycol's such a small place and the dead from mining accidents were so many years ago I can't use it. The assassin chose this spot well."

"He was a bag of shit long before you got your hands on him though, from the looks of things."

"Yes, thank you, Mage Haigh."

"You can't make shit into ice cream."

"Thank you, Mage Haigh."

"You look exhausted, Rummage. Go home and get some sleep."

Rummage looked as if she had something else to say, but her eyes focused beyond Kommora's shoulder and she tensed. Kommora turned. A cloaked figure stood flanked by more military men, his silhouette highlighted by the light runes behind him.

"Who are you?" barked Kommora.

He took off his hood and stepped forward, allowing the rune's light to fall on his face. Floppy dark brown hair fell over spectacles, through which serious dark eyes stared without emotion at Kommora and Rummage. He was rather slim, his body swallowed by the silky dark blue king's mage's cloak. His mouth was down-turned.

"What is the king's mage doing amongst us plebs?"

Domic Butterworth's disinterested eyes swept over Kommora and then Rummage, and then at the now-covered body of Raynott.

"His Highness asked me to investigate the news of another mage attack."

"You'll find Rummage and I are more than adequate for a full report on what occurred tonight."

A smirk curled at the corner of his mouth.

"Do you wish to override commands from his Highness?" There was nothing but disdain on Butterworth's face. To some youngsters, he might be good-looking, but he was a snake.

Kommora scowled. "I wouldn't dare," she bit out. "But what does his Highness wish to know? We have already reported on the previous two attacks."

Butterworth surveyed her, impassive. Kommora knew then she was not going to get any kind of answers.

"Step aside." He strode ahead, buffeting Kommora and Rummage away with a lazy hand and gesturing at the guards to remove the cover on the body. He kept his hands within his cloak, eyes sweeping over Raynott.

Interesting the king would send his mage to investigate this but none of the previous attacks despite us telling him we needed it. There's something stinking here and it's not the burning. Kommora gestured rudely at Butterworth and stomped away.

"I hope you'll take care of the little monster, Rummage!" she muttered to the other mage as she passed. "There's something about her that's asking for trouble."

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