Year 1464 AD, Kingdom of Shersia

  The walk back to Saint Elyss’s Rest was usually the most relaxing part of the day for Alaric and Kellan. The weight of the coins in their pouches provided a sense of security. They expected the usual evening routine, the smell of thin stew, the sound of younger children playing in the courtyard, and Sister Elaine scolding someone for running too fast.

  Instead, they were met with silence.

  It wasn't a peaceful silence. It was the heavy, suffocating kind that usually followed a funeral.

  As they pushed open the heavy wooden doors, the scene before them shattered their good mood. The main hall was in disarray. Several chairs were overturned. Father Corwin stood in the center of the room, his usually stoic face pale and grim. Near the altar, Sister Elaine was sitting on the floor, half-unconscious, her face buried in her hands.

  "Father?" Kellan asked, his voice dropping. "What happened?"

  Father Corwin looked up, his eyes tired. "Lia is gone."

  Alaric froze. Gone?

  "What do you mean gone?" Alaric asked, his voice steady but cold.

  "Taken," Corwin corrected, his voice cracking slightly. "Elaine took her to the market. She was buying supplies. She said..... she said she had her hands full with the bags. She looked away for a moment to pay the merchant. When she turned back, Lia wasn't there."

  Elaine let out a sob, rocking back and forth. "I couldn't hold her..... I had the bags..... I just turned around....."

  Groups of the older children, Rin, Mira, and a few others, burst through the side door. They were out of breath, sweating despite the evening chill.

  "We checked the perimeter," Rin said, shaking his head. "We checked the alleyways near the market. No one saw anything."

  Elaine looked up, her eyes red and swollen. She saw Alaric and scrambled to her feet, stumbling toward him. She grabbed his shoulders, her grip desperate.

  "Alaric..... please," she begged, her voice trembling. "You have to find her. You're smart. You always know what to do. Please find her."

  Alaric looked at the sister. She was breaking down. Panic was contagious, and it was useless.

  Crying won't bring her back. Running around the city blindlywont help.

  "Kellan," Alaric said.

  "Yeah?" Kellan was already gripping his sword hilt, his knuckles white.

  "We're going to the inn. We need Torren," Alaric said. He turned to Father Corwin. "Father you should go to the city guards. Tell them what happened."

  Without waiting for a response, Alaric turned and walked out, Kellan right on his heels.

  ***

  The 'Boar’s Head' inn was loud, filled with the noise of hunters drinking away their earnings. Torren was sitting at a corner table with Jacob, nursing a tankard of ale.

  He looked up as the two boys approached. He saw the look on Alaric's face and put his drink down immediately.

  "What's wrong?" Torren asked.

  "Lia was taken," Alaric said. "From the market. Snatch and grab."

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  Torren swore under his breath. "Human traffickers."

  "Traffickers?" Kellan asked.

  "Border towns like this are hotbeds for it," Torren explained, standing up. "They snatch kids, smuggle them across the border before the guards can close the gates. If they took her in the evening, they're likely already moving."

  "We need to know where," Alaric said.

  "The Guild Master might know," Torren said, grabbing his gear. "The Guild has been tracking a ring operating in the area. Come on."

  They moved quickly through the darkened streets to the Hunter's Guild. The building was quieter at night, but the lights in the office were still on. Torren bypassed the front desk and went straight to the Master’s office.

  The Guild Master, a gruff man named Hareth, listened to Torren’s explanation without interrupting. When Alaric pleaded for information, Hareth sighed and pulled a map from his drawer.

  "We have an ongoing investigation," Hareth said, pointing to a spot on the map. "We've had sightings of a group moving goods and people through the western forest. About thirty clicks out."

  Alaric looked at the map. The spot Hareth was pointing to wasn't in Shersia.

  "That's across the border," Alaric noted.

  "It is," Hareth confirmed. "That's why the guards can't touch them. It's technically inside the Kingdom of Buckland now."

  Alaric knew the history. Everyone did. After the tragedy at Shuru village, the Kingdom of Horsin had fallen into chaos. The neighboring Kingdom of Buckland had surrounded the capital region quickly. A Duke of Horsin, sensing the shifting tides, had betrayed his King, killing him and pledging loyalty to Buckland.

  Officially, Horsin no longer existed. It was integrated into Buckland. But out here, in the border forests, it was lawless territory.

  "If we go there, we're invading a foreign kingdom," Jacob muttered.

  "I don't care about politics," Alaric said. "I'm going."

  Torren looked at his party members. "We're not leaving a kid to be sold. Gear up. We cross tonight."

  ***

  The crossing was illegal and quiet. They avoided the main roads, slipping past the border markers and into the dense woodland that used to mark the edge of Horsin.

  The forest was thick, the canopy blocking out most of the moonlight. It was a perfect place to hide a camp.

  "We're in the general area," Torren whispered, signaling for the group to halt. "But this forest is massive. If we wander around aimlessly, they'll hear us before we see them."

  "I can find them," Alaric said.

  Torren looked at him. "How? It's pitch black."

  "Mana sensing," Alaric replied.

  "I thought your range was short," Kellan whispered.

  "I improved it," Alaric lied. It wasn't exactly an improvement, it was a change in methodology.

  Alaric closed his eyes.

  Normally, his sensing technique involved expanding his influence over the atmospheric mana. He would try to feel the disturbances in the mana field within a twenty-meter radius. It worked, but it was taxing. The human brain wasn't meant to process that much sensory data at once. Pushing it past twenty meters caused severe headaches and a loss of focus.

  Don't try to control the ocean..... just make a splash.

  He recalled a principle from his previous world. Sonar.

  Instead of trying to hold the mana around him, Alaric gathered a small amount of his own internal mana. He compressed it, then released it outward in a pulse.

  It was like dropping a stone into a still pond.

  The ripple of mana expanded outward, invisible to the naked eye but clear to Alaric’s senses. It traveled through the trees, through the brush, and through the air.

  Ping.

  The ripple hit a tree. Wood had no mana. The ripple passed through it largely undisturbed.

  Ping.

  It hit a deer sleeping in a thicket. The deer had a small amount of life force, a tiny mana signature. The ripple hit it and bounced back.

  Alaric felt the return signal. It was faint. By measuring the width of the ripple and direction it came from, he could calculate the distance.

  He pushed the pulse further. Thirty meters. Forty meters. Fifty meters.

  Beyond fifty meters, the ripple became too wide, too diffuse to provide accurate data. But fifty meters was more than double his old range.

  He turned slowly, sending out pulses in different directions.

  Nothing..... Nothing..... Nothing.....

  He turned north. He sent another pulse.

  While waiting for info….

  Alaric felt a cold rage settling in his chest. He checked his mana reserves. He was ready.

  No one takes what I hold dear, Alaric thought.