The clerk's boots clicked against the stone as they crossed the yard, her stride quick enough to make Kaelen feel like he was already late for something. The air smelled of charged stone and animal musk, layered over the faint tang of river water drifting in from beyond the fence. Ward-lights hummed overhead in slow, steady pulses.
The clerk led him past a line of stacked cages toward the yard's far edge. That was when Kaelen saw it, the containment net.
At first it just looked like air bending the wrong way, a heat-haze shimmer that ran in a broad arc from one ward-pillar to the next. But when the breeze shifted, he caught ghost-images rippling inside it, a double of the fence beyond, lagging half a heartbeat behind reality. The illusion wasn't for looks; it was there to mask the movement of whatever was inside.
The closer he walked, the more the air seemed to push back. A faint static prickled along his arms, buzzing in his teeth. The hum of the ward was low but insistent, like the warning edge before a tether snaps. The smell of wet copper hung faintly in the air.
Somewhere beyond that shimmering curve of air, something shifted. Slow. Testing.
A containment net. Large perimeter.
Nasty overtime indeed.
Beyond it half a dozen Guild operatives were gathered near a long table strewn with equipment, coils of rune-etched chain, heavy gauntlets, and half a dozen weapons he didn't recognise. Most wore the black-and-silver coats of Enforcers, silver badges catching the light.
One of them, a tall man with close-cropped hair and a face like weathered granite, looked Kaelen over with a smirk. "So, this is the replacement."
Kaelen frowned. "Replacement for what?"
"Courier," the man said. "Belonged to the archives. We tried using him earlier. Didn't,"
"Varric," another Enforcer cut in sharply. "Not the time."
Kaelen's eyes narrowed. "And what makes you think I can do better than him?"
Varric's smirk widened. "Well, you'd better, if you want to survive, that is."
Varric shrugged, still smirking. "Point is, you've got the right Spark for the job. We need mobility, and everyone else with legs worth a damn is tied up elsewhere."
Before Kaelen could decide whether to push for details, another voice broke in, this one from a stocky man with a greying beard and a calm, steady tone. He stepped forward, offering a hand. "Renn Varrow. Handler on this assignment." His grip was firm, unyielding. "You need to know exactly what you're walking into."
Kaelen took the hand without hesitation. "Go on, sir."
"Specimen came in last night. We thought it was dead, came out of a sweep in the Lower Cut. A few hours after arrival, it woke up and started testing the ward lines." Renn glanced at the containment yard's far edge, where the stone wall gave way to a low, grated archway. Beyond it, Kaelen could see dark water moving sluggishly, the edge of a drainage channel that ran under the outer fence.
"It's an elusive bastard, Sluice Stalker" Renn continued. "Fast, hard to pin down, and meaner than it looks. Deadly if you're not ready for the speed. Guild grading puts it at Grade Three, Monster class, mobility variant. That means a team job, not a lone hero. It'll gut anyone who tries to match it for burst."
Grade for the threat, class for the nature. Kaelen knew the scale: Grade One for pests barely worth notice, Grade Seven for the sort of nightmares you evacuated a country for, though he'd never heard of anyone seeing one outside of old Guild records. Grade Three was team territory, dangerous enough to kill trained Guild members if you got cocky, but manageable with coordination and gear.
"We've run it through the yard twice already," Renn said. "Problem is that the wide net can't hold it long enough to throw the chains. That coil you brought will stabilise the field, give us a few seconds of drag when it hits the line. Long enough to pin it if we're ready."
Renn gestured to the sealed case in Kaelen's hands. "That's a stabiliser coil. The original containment field was tuned for close quarters. Problem is, it broke out of that in the first five minutes, so we switched to a wider perimeter net, more coverage, less strength. This coil will reinforce the outer ward before it chews through completely."
Kaelen handed the case over, watching as a clerk in a leather apron broke the seal and lifted out the coil, a polished iron ring inlaid with shifting blue runes. Two operatives carried it toward a humming pillar at the yard's edge, slotting it into place with a heavy click.
"Where is it now?" Kaelen asked.
"Somewhere in the back channels," Renn said. "Big drains under the perimeter. There's a spill tunnel that comes up behind those holding pens. We've narrowed its range to that end of the yard, but it's not staying still. Which is where you come in."
Kaelen folded his arms. "You want me to go down there?"
"Not deep." Renn pointed to the grated arch. "You'll draw it out. It's quick, but it reacts to movement, especially fast movement. You'll get its attention, lead it back this way. Our Enforcers will be waiting with the rune-work chains."
As if on cue, the team by the weapons table lifted their gear. The chains were thick; each link etched with containment glyphs. Beside them lay the weapons, short spears, hook-ended staves, and a few sidearms Kaelen didn't recognise. The metal gleamed oddly, the patterns in the rune channels almost alive.
Renn caught him looking. "Rune weapons. They channel Soulfire and Spark directly, some draw from the wielder, others from charged cores. A few of these are older, self-sustaining designs. Doesn't matter which you use, they'll all hurt the target. Problem is, you can't hit what you can't keep in one place. That's why you're here."
Kaelen exhaled through his nose. "Right. Because couriers never get stuck with the nasty work."
Varric smirked again. "You get used to it."
Renn ignored him. "We'll post Enforcers along this line here", he pointed to a chalk mark on the ground that ran in a wide arc toward the main pen, "and you bring it across. Stay clear of its front. If it closes the gap, it's faster than you think. Mobility's your edge, use it to dodge, not to race. You just have to make it commit to the chase long enough for us to lock it down."
"And if it decides it's not interested in me?"
Renn's mouth curved slightly. "It will be."
Kaelen didn't like the certainty in his tone. He glanced at the dark archway again, feeling the low thrum of the ward-lines under his boots. Somewhere beyond that grate, something moved, a flicker of shadow against deeper dark.
He adjusted his coat, rolling his shoulders once. "Fine. Let's get it over with."
Renn gave a short nod. "Varric, take him up to the marker."
The Enforcer pushed off the table, spear resting across his shoulders, and jerked his chin toward the far fence. "Try to keep up, courier."
They skirted the curve of the yard, past the chalked positions where the other Enforcers waited with chains coiled at their feet. The hum of the ward was louder here, the drag field prickling against Kaelen's skin.
The grate loomed ahead, wide enough for a man to walk through if the bars weren't there. Dark water slid past beneath it, slow and oily. Somewhere inside, something scraped against stone, not loud, but close enough to set the fine hairs on his neck standing.
Varric stopped just short of the marker, a pale streak daubed across the cobbles. "When it comes for you, don't get clever. You keep it on your tail and head straight back. Got it?"
"That mark's where the drag starts hitting it. Inside the tunnels, the field's loose enough it can come and go. Past here, the pull makes retreat slower, just enough to tip it into a chase if it thinks you're close.
Kaelen flexed his hands once, eyes on the grate. A ripple shivered through the water inside. "Got it."
The hum deepened, a shift in the wards he felt more than heard. Whatever was in there, it had noticed.
He slipped through the side gate, boots splashing into the shallow runoff. The tunnel beyond was low and curved, its brick walls slick with moss and streaked with mineral stains. Water dripped steadily somewhere ahead, each drop echoing off the stone like a slow clock.
Kaelen moved the way he'd trained: light steps, loose muscles, everything balanced so the Spark could fire clean the moment he needed it.
Two days in a row. Guess I'm collecting trouble now.
The air grew colder the deeper he went, the faint glow from the yard thinning until it was little more than a smear behind him. Then he saw it, a ripple in the dark water, followed by a low, sinuous shape sliding into view.
The Sluice Stalker was lean and narrow; its slick hides the colour of drowned stone. Long forelimbs ended in hooked claws that scraped idly along the wall, and its hind legs were coiled in tight readiness, the joints bent forward like a sprinter's. A ripple ran down its spine, and pale, lidless eyes locked on him, unblinking.
It tilted its head once. The claws flexed.
Kaelen's breath eased out, muscles already primed.
The Stalker moved.
He turned with it, Spark flaring sharp and cold in his veins as SkyStep answered, the tunnel blurring in his peripheral vision as he broke into motion.