Free Summer's Cauldron by G. L. Breedon

might hold for him and Victoria, he had finally caught sight of a black cloak dashing between the tents at the end of the lane. “Maybe some other time,” Alex said, running toward the tent where he had seen the shadowed figure make an appearance.
    “There’s always time,” Madam Fortuna said with a sigh. “Only not as much as we think when we are young.”
    Alex slid around the corner of the tent at the end of the row and caught another glimpse of the shadowed figure. He slipped through a gap between two wagons and followed the evasive black shape through another, even more slender space between two tents. Alex found himself in a dim and narrow channel between the backsides of two rows of medium-sized tents. He looked both ways down the thin, shadow-drenched path between the tents, but saw no sign of his elusive quarry.
    He walked silently between the canvas walls, gently stepping over the safety lines crossing the path, each pinned to the ground with an enormous iron spike. Then he heard something. A word. A word spoken by someone in a tent nearby. A word he would not have heard if he had not been accustomed to moving so silently. A word he should never have heard. A word only a handful would know. A word no one should speak. A word whispered and carried by the still night air. A word at the beginning of a sentence as frightening as the word itself.
    “Kal’Etrim shall be free within days and all that is required is your courage and my cunning.”
    Alex froze where he stood, stilling his lungs into long shallow and silent breaths.
    Kal’Etrim .
    That was not a word he should ever hear, especially not here in Runewood. It was a word known only by a few scholars. Only by those who would have need to know it. Only by two kinds of people — those who studied the history of the Shadow Wraith, of Shan’Kal — or those who were its servants and sought to set it loose upon the world again.
    Alex listened closely. There were others in the tent. At least two more. He could discern a difference between their whispered voices, could tell two were women and one a man, but could not determine if he had ever heard them before. He doubted he would be able to identify the owners of the voices even if he heard them speak aloud. It meant only one thing — he’d have to get closer and try to see their faces. Maybe through a loose seam in the tent fabric. Maybe from the gap between the tent wall and the ground.
    Alex crept slowly toward the tent where the whispered voices continued to speak.
    “Is it really there?”
    “Do you question me?”
    “I only question your sources.”
    “It is there.”
    Was what where? Alex slowly lifted his foot over the safety rope at the edge of the tent.
    “It will still be risky even with the device.”
    “If he still has it.”
    “Are you afraid of risk?”
    Device? Alex leaned in toward the tent. There was a dim light inside and it revealed small holes in the canvas wall.
    “I am not afraid of risk. I am afraid of failure.”
    “As well you should be.”
    “A bank will have more protection than walls.”
    Bank? Alex slid his eye close to one of the holes in the tent. It was too small to see through properly, but he could make out three shadowed shapes within the tent.
    “I have made preparations for…Quiet.”
    Alex held his breath, locking his limbs into place.
    “Someone is nearby.”
    “Where?”
    “Very nearby.”
    Alex heard motion within the tent. The sound of feet crossing the ground and heading directly toward where he stood.
    “Where?”
    “Here!”
    A knife blade slid through the fabric of the tent, slicing a long, clean gash as the blade flashed past Alex’s face.
    He thought of running, trying to leap between the safety ropes and through a gap between the tents, but some instinctive part of his mind knew there was no time, he would be seen, would be caught. Before he was even conscious he had spoken, he whispered the rune-words for air and motion and his body thrust