He washed quickly and returned to camp to find his companeight seated around their fire. Thankfully, all were there–for once, Kaesii and Drusilla had not gone off to gamble; Arius was not with the horses, and Cur had not retired early.

Skippii explained his inquiry to them, and listened to their tales of the battle of Nerithon.

"Must we darken our fire with such tales?" Tenoris said.

"I must," Skippii said. "If we better understand our enemy, we'll be better prepared."

"What's there to say?" Cur said. "We were all there. We all saw it the same."

"The details," Skippii pressed. "The distinctions between his abilities. I want to know if the enemy treats their magia like I do mine–a list of abilities, invocations, in their case."

They were silent for a short while, squatting atop their shields, leaning closer to the firelight.

"Dark orbs," Arius spoke. "They had a pull, like the earth beneath us. And all that they consumed, disappeared."

"I had my arms lifted into the air," Cur said. "Shield and all."

"I felt the same thing," Skippii said, "with the first magus I fought. That seems to be their most basic ability–the emissaries of Cosmipox. In fact, I do remember the Coven of Kylin training to combat it. When I was taken to their arena, they had chains and staves caked in tar. These, their captives tugged on. I have not given it much thought since then, but they must have been training to fight what invocations they knew the heretic at Nerithon possessed."

"I saw bolts," Drusilla said. "Dark ballista bolts, flung at the cyclops. But none came near us on the wall."

"I saw that too," Kaesii conferred.

"Okay," Skippii said. "But what else? I heard of something happening beyond the walls, while we were striking the temple. And I've heard rumours about the enemy sallying out from the city to attack the Coven, but it's all unclear."

"I too, have heard such rumours," Arius said. "The cavalry saw it all from their vantage, as did many of the auxiliaries. But all was stooped in shadow that day, and perhaps the best witness to ask would be one of the Coven themselves."

Skippii nodded, his throat suddenly dry. "Where is Kylinissa? Did anyone see her today?"

"She is camped eastward," Arius pointed. "Away from us. I can show you."

"Please, lead me there."

Kylinissa's camp was a small enclosed spot beneath a grand apple tree. Her horse was pitched nearby–a fine stallion of the legion's best stock. Her tent was plain–a canvas tied to the tree's low branches and pegged into the ground. She had lit a small fire at its entrance, encircled by rocks and small flags, like a miniature palisade. The flags danced in the fire's shifting winds, and for such a small flame, it emanated a pleasant warmth.

Arius left him alone, and Skippii approached her camp. She heard him coming a ways off, and awaited his arrival.

"Bona-noctum," he said.

"Welcome," she said plainly, watching him with sharp eyes. In her hands was a pestle and mortar, and beside her, a pouch of grain.

"Do you have the time to talk?" he asked.

She blinked, and he thought he saw her expression soften a touch.

"About what?" she asked.

"I'm trying to create a list… a picture of the heretic's magia. Cosmipox, to be specific. I'd like to hear your recollection of events."

Kylinissa glanced down at her meek fire in consideration, then up at the shadows about them. She drew her hand over before her, like drawing a curtain, and the air became still. The canopy above was frozen, but beyond the aura of their campfire, the branches swayed.

"We won't be overheard," she explained. "I suspect you already know what is common rumour. But I shall tell you about what beset me, and my Coven." Suddenly, her lips froze, half open, and slowly closed.

Her Coven no longer, Skippii thought.

"First, a cloud appeared," she continued with no emotion in her voice. "A lake beneath the sky. Black. Impossibly deep. And something within. Stars? Like the night sky tearing a hole in daylight. And out of it rained sludge. Corpses. Mud and rain. I was battered, and sheltered. But the First Cohort came to our aid. However that was not the worst.

"Next, those corpses rose. The were cold. Their touch was ice. It caused men to scream. But later, I found that their flesh was not ailed. Only their minds were stricken with a terror beyond imagining. But not many were injured. The First Cohort held them at bay with pikes. These corpses… these swamp-like fiends drew themselves upon the legion's blades and perished willingly to weigh down the weapons.

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"Tirelessly, the First Cohort fought, and was joined by the Second, and many javelins and arrows. But where they fell, they formed anew, like black figures rising from the underworld. Something empowered them that was not flesh and bone–was not blood. The heretic's magia. A puppet army. And it rained from the skies."

Skippii listened with awe. He had heard the account spoken by others, but none so complete and detailed as hers. "Were they powerful?"

"No," she said. "Only many. And immune to pain. And lifeless. And all the while, pressure gathered above. It sought to crush us, and to pull us from our feet. But combined, Kylin's winds were more powerful, and Aetheria wielded them deftly. The Coven… we were a sight to behold." Kylinissa smiled, but as the pause dragged on, her lips tweaked spitefully.

"This is good to know," Skippii said, his heart suddenly fluttering. Her head was turned aside and she did not respond. He thought to ask if she knew anything more, but trusted that if she did, she would not withhold it from him.

Rising, he felt sorry to be so quickly rid of her company. But what else could he say? Before he had time to think, his mouth was moving.

"I'm sorry."

"What for?" she asked quickly.

"For what I said. For insulting your God. I hadn't meant to."

She glanced at him, then returned to her task of milling grain in a small pestle.

"I am afraid," he admitted quietly. Then he laughed to himself. "I hope your wards work. I'd hate for anyone else to hear that."

"That you're afraid?" she asked. "Aren't we all?"

"Perhaps. But legionnaires aren't supposed to admit it."

"You're a legionnaire no longer," she said. "Does that hurt? I know the legion meant so much to you."

Skippii took a deep breath. "It's no so bad. Things have changed. The reason I wanted to be a legionnaire… that remains the same. The honour, the ambition. Only, now I have directed it elsewhere. Into my thaugia."

"Thaugia?" she said. "What is that?"

"Oh, just a different phrase." Skippii gathered his wits. "I'm sorry, as well, for being the cause of you leaving the Coven. I'm sure they'll miss your absence."

Now, Kylinissa struck him with steely eyes. Skippii tried to hold her focus, but found himself looking down at his feet, then back up at her, and then into the fire at her heels.

Then, she sighed, and all the world sighed about her. The apple tree above rustled with relief as her ward was lifted, and clean air was returned to the campsite.

"It's not your fault," she said. The Imperator wanted me to guide you. The eyes and voice of the pantheon." She sighed again. "But what good is my voice alone? Kylin comes to me now in these meagre ways, and after so much power…" she laughed spitefully and sat upright. "After I held so much, in the arms of the Coven… The whole breadth of Kylin's might. We could reshape the skies. Form storms from thin air. Bring down the thunder and rains. And wrath. But now…"

Her shoulders bent and she arched over her fire. "But now I'm just a lone magus. I can no longer speak with the others of the pantheon. Kylin robbed that of me when she demanded my fealty. Only her, and only weakly, for she is not so concerned with the likes of a single devotee. Especially not one as new to her as I am, and as young, and weak."

"You are not weak," Skippii scowled. "You are strongest of all. I came to you in battle, not Aetheria. I asked for your strength. And though, I don't know how the Coven works, I know that it was your strength that beat back Cosmipox. I know it was you, and me, who triumphed."

He looked into her eyes earnestly–her emerald eyes–and now it was Kylinissa who averted her gaze. "You're kind, Skippii. A little foolish, but kind."

Coming closer, he knelt and built her campfire with a touch of his hand. "If you wish to join us, you're welcome, you know?"

"I know," she nodded. "But I prefer the solitude. I have much to think about."

"Sometimes, we can think ourselves into dark places," Skippii said. "Better to have light of company to ward away ill thoughts."

"I have the company of Kylin now," Kylinissa said. "Always. She guides me. But I appreciate the offer, and your concern."

Once again, Skippii wished he had more to say, but found himself lost for words. Rising, he bid her goodnight, and returned to his campfellows.

"Back so soon?" Cur said with a sly smile.

"Yeah," he said. "She asked for you to go see her next."

"What?" Cur scowled. "Really? Me? Why?"

Skippii let him chew on it for a while as he sat down and accepted a chunk of bread and thinly-spread butter from Cliae.

"Does she know who I am?" Cur said.

"Of course not, you old fool," Skippii said harshly.

"I was only asking," he grumbled.

"Forgotten what it's like to march without the impedimenta and fornicaria to spend your wages on?" Orsin teased him. "Crysat, the farmer's daughter best lock her doors and sleep with a dagger under her pillow."

"I was not asking for that," Cur spat. "I have wisdom to offer, you know. You may have these velvets fooled, Orsin, but you're still a youngster compared to me."

"Velvets?" Kaesii said. "We're still going on about that? We bloody liberated Nerithon."

"Yeah," Drusilla said. "If we're velvet, then you're a scrap of tattered old leather."

"Alright, lay off it," Cur said. "Why am I even here? I should be back with the legion."

"For your indispensable wisdom." Skippii spoke without a hint of mockery.

Cur fixed his gaze with a wavering scowl. "That's right," he said at length. "At least our sage commander recognises it so."

***

The next day, they left the farmstead in quick fashion. Skippii knocked on the front door, but there was no answer, so he left a bronze piece on the porch where it was visible, for the farmer's troubles. Their company had indeed been given an advance on their salary, in case Imperial coin was needed to barter supplies. But it was the least of Skippii's concerns, and he left their treasury to Cliae to handle.

They travelled through the valley's orchard, ever guided by the northern mountain peaks. They passed no one on the road, and a one wayhouse they found was empty. He instructed the auxiliaries to send a team to investigate it for supplies, but they returned with nothing to report. Either the wayhouse really was barren, or what little they had found, they kept for themselves.

The air grew stale in the mid afternoon sun. A creak which the scouts found offered no refreshment. The waters were foaming and barely moving.

"Disease," Arius said, wrinkling his hawkish nose.

The environment worsened as the day went on, until eventually, they came upon a small village during the evening. Built in the valley between two vineyard hills, the village's wood-built homes flanked a road which led through its centre. But no dogs barked ahead of their arrival. No cattle bleated in pens, and no children played by the streamside. The settlement was bleak, and barren. The trees wilted as though in drought. The stream frothed. The mud stank like sewage.

A body lay half beneath the hedgerow, his legs splayed onto the path. Skippii took him for dead until he came near, and saw that the man's eyes were open. Skippii gasped. His features were emaciated, starved of life and nutrients. His jaw quivered, but no words came. Only a hand was extended–a plea.

"Cliae, give him our water." Skippii gripped his spear and moved on into the village. "What disease is this?"

"This is Hjingolia," Thales said. "One of the incursors. Goddess of disease and decay."

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