It started to rain. The whisper the raindrops made when they hit the leaves and the branches covered any sounds from the pursuers. The group walked through the wet darkness until Huran found a place for his ambush. It was on uneven ground, where those who followed would be forced to walk in a single line.

  “Check that one,” Huran said to his men and pointed to a tree at the end of the narrow part of the path.

  The Nocturna peeled bark, revealing the pale wood growing in a circular pattern. The liquid leaking from inside smelled acrid, and the trunk was warm against Patrik’s wet gloves as he was guided closer.

  “How long do you need to prepare your witchcraft?” Huran asked.

  “As long as it takes,” Patrik answered.

  Huran glared at him, but a soldier gave Patrik the package containing his writing materials. Patrik squared his shoulders in determination; rain would make this challenging because it would dilute everything, and there would be no time for the matrix structure to harden properly. No one knew how long a headstart they had over their pursuers, but Patrik decided not to show any hurry.

  He needed an igniter to initiate the explosion in the already unstable tree, but he had only the blood in his veins and his skills with matrices. “May I get a lift, please? I need to put this close to the canopy. The temperature is higher there.”

  “The trunk’s gate system is around here,” Huran said, hovering his hand at the height above which the previous trees had exploded. “Hudson, help him.”

  Patrik took his equipment and climbed to the Nocturna’s broad, rain-drenched shoulders.

  “Be quick about it. They are not far behind,” the soldier called Hudson muttered, balancing himself by leaning his hands against the trunk.

  Patrik considered his options. He had no clue about the trunk’s internal flows or how to target the explosion towards the path. He chose brute force, a matrix to concentrate heat on a small area. It should be enough to ignite the explosive compounds gathering inside the tree.

  Patrik dipped his pen into the special resin and drew the first glyph for the matrix with a practiced gesture. It was the dam, the power supply for the whole structure. He extended the three-dimensional network of lines quickly to create a combination that turned the power in the blood into heat.

  A simple matrix would have sufficed, but it could be strengthened with additions, and Patrik had learned all the additions to the basic structures. He had practiced them until he mastered them, even in the dark and the rain, standing in the canopy of a possibly exploding tree.

  The matrices were a wasteful way to harness the power carried in the blood - the power borrowed from the dragons. The matrices were all about timing and shaping: the art of creating a physical flow channel for the power residing in the blood, dividing it into balanced, merging loops. Every Ainadu learned the basics as they learned to read, calculate, and sing. Most didn’t study the art any further, and only a few had the skill and opportunity to indulge themselves using the matrices.

  Patrik had put serious effort into his studies, and he knew he was good with the matrices. But he also knew that his useless half-brother Kvenrei possessed effortless brilliance in this field, something that was far out of Patrik’s grasp.

  The matrix soon took the shape Patrik had planned, sticking to the wet bark. He cut his tattooed finger open and started to fill its power bank. Blood sank into the dark, gum-like ink, and the matrix sucked its resonance. The dam was deep, and its filling took time. Patrik nodded to himself, knowing this simple trick would drain many of his fellow Ainadu bloodless.

  “What is going on?” Hudson sounded irritated. Patrik noticed that the residual blood the matrix repelled, now empty of any power, was dripping onto the soldier’s helmet and under his collar.

  “Stand still or this spills,” Patrik said.

  “Idiot dragon-slave and your thrice-cursed tricks,” Hudson muttered, but stood his place.

  Patrik thought about his half-brother while keeping his finger pressed against the cursed tree of this cursed forest, feeding his blood to the matrix. If he had gotten Kvenrei to carry his responsibilities, everything would have been much easier. But instead of doing what honour, bloodline, and the state required, the young man had run away and gotten himself a family.

  Now, Kvenrei was failing his fatherly duties as surely as he struggled to carry his commander’s orders. Kvenrei had skills, but he interpreted Anhava’s orders as he wished, resulting in endangering his own life. Anhava’s plans were, of course, built to withstand Kvenrei’s impulses.

  To add insult to the injury, the half-brother was generally on the wrong course in his life, and Patrik knew that he should do something about it. Their common father concentrated on his private matters and on Kvenrei’s younger sister. Patrik had grown up with his mother, who called Patrik’s birth a lucky accident.

  Patrik was not jealous of the power and the attention given to his half-sister. He knew the country needed everyone to emerge victorious from the difficult times ahead, and if Jesrade had half the skills his brother possessed and twice the self-discipline, she was going to be an asset.

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  The dam in the matrix became full, and a thick, red stain started to form on the trunk when no more resonance was absorbed. Patrik tapped the soldier’s helmet lightly with his foot, effortlessly balancing on his shoulders. “Let me down.”

  ***

  Patrik was lying on the ground against a rock. He was gagged, and both his hands and feet were tied. Huran’s patience had snapped when Patrik had proclaimed that he needed a line of sight to the tree for igniting it.

  “So you didn’t make it to explode automatically?”

  “I could have done it, but not within this time window,” Patrik had lied. It was easy to write one reliable effect, but the more conditions one added, the more power-hungry and unreliable the matrix grew. The Nocturna did not need to know this, as it was all in Patrik’s interests to strengthen his enemy’s belief in the Ainadu’s arts.

  The group following them was led by a scout, a nearly invisible shape moving through the darkness. He had already passed the marked tree when Patrik noticed his presence. Far behind him came the first soldier, and after him, there were others. When the soldier had passed the tree, Huran pressed Patrik’s shoulder to urge him to ignite the tree. The strategej opened his sight and concentrated on the switch in the igniter he had created. There were no alien memories to steal his concentration, the dam obeyed his command, and the stored resonance flowed into the matrix.

  Patrik ducked low, under the cover of the rocks. After four heartbeats, the tree made a soft crackling sound, but with no further warning, the trunk exploded, showering the pursuers in boiling sap and flying debris, the effect carrying on to the next trees.

  Huran’s men ambushed their pursuers from a distance, utilizing the flames that silhouetted their dazed enemy.

  Patrik kept low and worked to free his feet. Opening the ties was impossible without a blade, and he had to utilize the dragon sight. Patrik had used it too much already, and besides, it was difficult to guide the energy so close to one’s own body when the phantom memories tweaked the image he held of himself. Pain shot through Patrik’s leg when his tired mind slipped to a memory of lacing delicate boots into legs that were much smaller than his wet and muddy feet.

  The pain made memory fade, and Patrik shook his head, but the loosening of the ties told him he had managed to damage the threads. Soon, the rope dropped away, decayed to dust, and Patrik rose to his numb feet to escape.

  He managed only a few steps before Huran ran to him and caught his tied hands.

  “Run!” Nocturna dragged Patrik away. A tree exploded far on their left side, and the air felt warmer. “A chain reaction. It's all going to burn,” Huran continued while running forward. His steps didn’t falter. “Look around, strategej, find us a safe route.”

  Patrik had no energy to open his sight, but he didn’t need it. Rain evaporated to mist where it hit the heated trunks. It was clear that he was alive only because Huran considered him as health insurance. Patrik planned on getting rid of the man, but Huran was physically too overpowering.

  They crossed a muddy brook, filled by the rain, and climbed a low ridge. The clouds were red in the west where the forest was burning, and the fire was much closer than Patrik had estimated. “Shouldn’t rain extinguish it?” he asked weakly when Huran removed his gag.

  “Not this fire,” Huran said. “Reaction escalates when water flows in the system through the broken trunks. A design fault in this type, this needs constant supervision…” Huran’s voice turned into a whisper. Momentarily, he sounded more like a scientist than a soldier.

  “Route towards the north is still open,” Patrik said, rubbing his head.

  “We can’t go that way. There are too many patrols. Esrau is alive, and he is following us. Let’s go on.” Like the words had been a summons, a lone man appeared from the forest. The wildfire reflecting from the clouds gave just enough light to see him. The man was running towards them with a spring in his step. Huran turned to the downhill slope, dragging Patrik behind him. They ran and slipped downwards, and the ground was turning into mud.

  A crossbow bolt passed Huran’s face, and a deep male voice shouted. "Stop, Huran! You can't escape!”

  The hand supporting Patrik disappeared. Patrik’s speed carried him a few unsteady steps before he slipped and fell to his stomach. When Patrik got up, his hands still tied, he saw Huran holding his sword, ready to meet his pursuer. The approaching Nocturna was as tall as Huran, but his movements were more agile.

  “Lieutenant Huran, you are under arrest for endangering the mission and your men. Orders by Commander Wratski. Drop your weapons and surrender.”

  “You lost, Esrau. After this, they will never trust your rebellious whispers.”

  "What is this chain reaction?” Esrau unsheathed his sword.

  “Oh, you are begging to know. You think you understand the old protocols, but you are just a wet-eared puppy.”

  “I was not expecting you to destroy the forest.”

  “That was the Ainadu.”

  Esrau stood still, the sword in his hand, mirroring Huran’s pose. Both seemed ready to kill, but they kept on talking. Patrik ignored the Nocturna, scanning the forest and slope for any potential escape route; his mission of destroying this year's metal harvest was a success, and the next step was to commit a murder in Haven. He had to get South.

  “What did you inject in there?” Esrau asked.

  “The Ainadu did their wicked stuff. The dragon-slave didn’t know the details.” Esrau’s black eyes flicked on Patrik, and Huran continued: “Don’t underestimate him. That one is more competent than he looks.”

  Esrau started to circle Huran. Men slashed each other but separated without shedding blood. Patrik turned his back and ran, trying to free his hands. Luckily, the ties had become loose in the rain, and when Huran had used them to handle him. Eventually, Patrik managed to slip his hands loose. Running in the darkness was risky, and to Patrik’s horror, mist started to form around the trees when they slowly heated up around him. Sounds of the two men trying to kill each other were still to be heard from behind.

  Patrik slowed to walk, following a row of trees. All the trees were hot and located so close to each other that the fire would spread from one to another. The even rows of trunks spread everywhere like the pillars of some hellish waiting hall, and even the ground steamed from the reaction running along the industrial organism’s root system. Thickening mist hung around them, and the visibility was getting worse every second.

  Patrik suppressed an urge to panic. He was not afraid to die, but he didn’t want to die in vain. There had to be a way to escape the fire and find a route to Haven, for he had a man to kill. He followed the downward slope, hoping to find a rock to slip under, a cave, or even a pit, anything to shield him from the following Nocturna and the impending forest fire.