"What distinguishes this barrier from the others you've encountered?"

  "It requires a medium," Lostya Huggins interjected, seemingly claiming the explanation as penance for her earlier impudence. "Conventional magical barriers can be conjured from nothing but air and willpower, drawing solely upon Source. Observe." She pressed her palms together, murmured an incantation under her breath, then drew her hands apart with deliberate grace. Between them stretched a gossamer membrane of shimmering light. "This represents the most rudimentary barrier—adequate for deflecting a street ruffian's spittle, nothing more." She clenched her fists abruptly, shattering the barrier into luminous motes that dissipated like dust in sunlight. "The Asiro Barrier, however, demands a physical medium—typically metallic powder. The advantage is that the magical framework can be set in advance. The necessary patterns are stored within the powder itself, much like we mages store a portion of our power in an artifact for a time of need." She absently flicked the diamond pendant nestled against her collarbone. "Once infused with Source, each minuscule particle unfolds into a barrier segment of remarkable resilience—vastly superior to my trivial demonstration. Thus, the Asiro Barrier stands unrivaled among defensive enchantments—without exception."

  "Furthermore, those capable of casting it are exceedingly rare," Ash Davan added, visibly pleased to showcase her scholarly knowledge. "Asiro Daos Wildo Ivandast ranks among the Seventh Era's most formidable elven mages—though not elevated to godhood, his name endures through eternity. His barriers once halted the advance of the Titan Gods themselves. So, to punch a hole in an Asiro Barrier big enough for an army to pass through... you can imagine the kind of power that would take."

  "Damn it all," Duke Dear's explosive curse startled the assembled witches. (What good are you witches to me, then?)

  "We do have our uses, my lord."

  "Julia!" Aurelia's reprimand cut through the air. "Mind your tongue!"

  Raveirmom Dear raised his hand to forestall further bickering. "My temperament was unbecoming just now, ladies. I ask your forgiveness. I had forgotten for a moment," he added, his voice laced with ice, "that in the presence of ladies such as yourselves, a common man has no secrets."

  "Most sorceresses develop mind-reading as naturally as breathing—it becomes inseparable from our existence," Lostya Huggins offered in defense of her colleague. "Occasionally we perceive others' thoughts inadvertently, usually with benign intent. Usually."

  "Enough," the duke curtly interrupted. "If you've penetrated my thoughts, you're aware I've no interest in assigning blame or meting out punishment. I seek only a solution to our present predicament."

  "We share that objective, my lord," Aurelia replied, returning to her seat. "Yet even our considerable abilities may prove insufficient against this particular barrier."

  "What about portals?" Ash Davan suggested, glancing toward her fellow sorceresses. "We could transport soldiers directly beyond the barrier, circumventing it entirely."

  "Elaborate," Raveirmom encouraged, clearly intrigued. Ash swept her crystalline blue gaze across her companions. "What do you think, sisters? Julia? Would it work?"

  "Undeniably, the concept has merit," Julia responded, lowering her eyes, her words hesitant under the duke's intense scrutiny. "For a limited contingent—perhaps a few dozen soldiers—such an approach might prove viable. But to transport thousands? Forgive my bluntness, my lord, but that lies beyond possibility." She hastened to explain before the duke could voice his displeasure: "Creating a portal of sufficient capacity would require extraordinary dimensions. Regrettably, I can maintain nothing larger than what eight adults might simultaneously traverse. Furthermore, my lord, portal transit isn't instantaneous like stepping through a doorway. A person entering a portal must cross a 'bridge' of sorts, one that connects two places. The length of that bridge can change, but one thing is certain: if too many people step onto it at once, it will collapse. The unfortunate travelers then plummet into a spatial rift—lost eternally in dimensional chaos."

  "So we're limited to dispatching small groups sequentially, awaiting each group's complete passage before sending the next?"

  "Precisely."

  The duke contemplated this, dissatisfaction evident. "Such inefficiency borders on uselessness. Moreover, should the enemy mass at the portal's terminus, our fragmented forces would be systematically slaughtered."

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  Julia nodded in somber agreement. "Additionally, my capacity to sustain a portal has definite temporal limitations. Even without enemy resistance, the complete transportation of an army would require an impossible duration."

  "What of multiple simultaneous portals?" Raveirmom Dear proposed suddenly. "Surely a proliferation of exit points would overwhelm the Cynthians' defensive capacity, allowing our forces to establish a foothold."

  "Maintaining even one portal taxes me to my limit, my lord," the sorceress admitted, her gaze downcast. "The limitation is my own."

  "It seems this particular art is a great deal harder for you great sorceresses than reading a man's mind against his will," the duke said, his words sharp with sarcasm.

  "Portal creation indeed bears no comparison to mind-reading—it represents one of magic's most formidable challenges," Lostya responded evenly. "Like the Asiro Barrier, most portal spells require specific media and operate under stringent constraints. Aside from a handful of legendary elven sages—whose abilities now exist only in myth—no practitioner living could manifest portals with effortless simplicity. This limitation reflects magical reality, my lord, not personal inadequacy."

  "I cast no blame upon you, Lostya. This golden impediment simply frays my patience to breaking."

  "Perhaps our best recourse is direct assault—as we employed at Crividsylvan," Ash Davan suggested, casually tossing her cascading golden hair. "When sophistication fails, brute force remains."

  The duke's head lifted suddenly, his eyes brightening with realization. "If we concentrate our assault on a single location, will the barrier eventually yield?"

  "Indisputably, my lord. Magical barriers, despite their arcane nature, share fundamental properties with physical walls. Persistent focused attacks inevitably create vulnerability at the point of impact."

  "Then proceed with your methods, but target the location of my choosing." He rose purposefully, striding toward the tent's entrance. "I've directed my cavalry to repeatedly assail one specific section—employing the most rudimentary tactics. Focus your arcane efforts there; the barrier should already exhibit significant weakening."

  "That considerably improves our prospects."

  "Do your work well, ladies." His face hardened. "This chance was bought with the lives of many soldiers. Our soldiers."

  "We shall spare no effort."

  "Regarding transportation, horses await your convenience. However, should you prefer carriages, magical portals, or simply hiking up your skirts and running, I harbor no objections. Results alone concern me."

  "Naturally, my lord," Aurelia replied with a disarmingly sweet smile. The duke turned abruptly, departing with long, purposeful strides.

  "Well then?" Julia asked, smoothing her elaborate gown. "Shall we ride, or would you prefer I attempt a modest portal? I can visualize the location clearly enough; the casting shouldn't present excessive difficulty."

  "Horseback seems prudent," Lostya remarked, carelessly discarding her drinking vessel. "Ah, I detect skepticism regarding my riding proficiency."

  "We need you to conserve your magical reserves." Lostya approached Julia, gently taking hold of her arm. "I need you to preserve your Source." Her gaze flickered momentarily to the silver bracelet adorning Julia's left wrist, its embedded diamond fragments capturing and fracturing the light. "Should circumstances deteriorate beyond control, I may resort to Eternal Magic."

  "You would require... my Source?"

  "Potentially. Though I hope such necessity doesn't arise. Because," her lashes swept down, hiding her eyes, "it reminds me of Gale Lassō."

  "Distinguished ladies, your mounts stand prepared!" Messenger Dillet Apollo's resonant voice penetrated the tent's fabric, reverberating through the perfumed interior. "Come, everyone. Gather your essentials." Aurelia secured a diminutive dagger against her calf. "We enter the theater of war. Remember, this differs fundamentally from Crividsylvan—this is authentic battlefield: savage, bloody, saturated with violence. This isn't the controlled environment of Sylvwood Hall, but Cynthia's untamed hinterlands."

  "Should we perhaps change our attire?" Ash Davan asked, critically assessing her sky-blue gown. "Leather garments and leggings might prove more practical..."

  "Time doesn't permit such luxuries, Ash. We are sorceresses—our combat effectiveness remains undiminished, even in formal dress."

  "Very well, I defer to your judgment."

  "And," Aurelia added, fixing the youngest sorceress with a meaningful look, "should danger threaten, don't hesitate to request assistance, Ash. You remain our junior member."

  "Please, spare me. I am a woman full-grown—a fully initiated sorceress, not some helpless child requiring protection."

  "Your ascension to both states occurred quite recently, Ash."

  "And you scarcely exceed me in years, Lostya," she retorted with a grimace. "Spare me your maternal condescension."

  "Ladies?" Dillet Apollo called again from outside. "Your horses—"

  "We're aware, sir," Aurelia responded with elevated volume. "They won't spontaneously levitate."

  "No, but the ones near the golden wall certainly do," he muttered under his breath, "carrying their riders skyward before an abrupt descent."

  "Are we prepared to depart?" Aurelia inquired. "Ladies?"

  "By all means, I grow impatient," Ash declared. Julia nodded her assent, while Lostya Huggins offered a confident, reassuring smile.

  Two hours hence, that self-assured, flawlessly beautiful countenance would be desecrated with grime and tears.