by Randy Nargi
“How much farther?” Silbra Dal asked.
“Four more streets. Maybe five. But we’ll have to cross Old Dolwyn Road. That is well-patrolled. You may want to take your armor off now. It could draw unwanted attention.”
“I will keep it on, thank you.”
“Then at least don your helm.”
“Why? My hair is short enough that I look like a man.”
“Mistress, with your face, you could never be mistaken for a man.”
Silbra Dal didn’t respond, but she did put the helmet on. It was a barbute with an open front which didn’t hide her full lips. Anyone within a few yards would be able to tell that Silbra Dal was female. Not that women in armor were such an impossibly rare sight. It’s just that most of them in Rundlun would be members of the city guard and not visiting warriors.
“We should have hired a carriage,” she said.
"Most of the carriage drivers here are informants of one sort or another—" Bander spotted some movement out of the corner of his eyes. He looked back but saw nothing out of the ordinary.
“What is it?”
“Let’s double back.”
He led them around a corner and then started zigzagging back south. Bander strode quickly and Silbra Dal had to struggle to keep up. After about the length of a block, Bander dropped to one knee as if he was adjusting his boot strap. He glanced over his right shoulder, eyes darting, scanning both sides of the street in back of him. He didn’t see anything unusual, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being followed. And if that was true, his pursuers were more skilled than the average city guardsman. They could be operatives from the Imperial Ministry of the Murmurs—or even the Shrike. Either one would be tough to deal with.
“I don’t see anyone,” Silbra Dal whispered.
“Neither do I. That’s the problem.”
Down a side street, he caught a glimpse of a small market square. He motioned to Silbra Dal to follow him, but she shook her head.
“This way!” she said. “I can hide us.”
“No—”
But it was too late. She had already dashed away into a narrow alley that ran behind a row of terraced houses.
Bander cursed to himself as he ran after her. This was bad. They needed to stay in wide open spaces with good lines of sight.
He caught up with her fifty feet into the alley.
“Mistress, let’s get out of here now.”
“I have a better idea. I will cast an obscure spell and—”
Clang! Something smashed into Silbra Dal’s back. Bander pulled her down as he flung himself to the ground next to her. Another crossbow bolt flew over his head, missing him by inches. It had come from the opposite direction.
“We’re under attack!”
Although the crimson armor she wore deflected the crossbow bolt, Silbra Dal was stunned by the shot.
Two teams of black-clad Shrike guardsmen advanced on them from either direction, boxing them into the alley. Each team had a crossbowman. And each of the men was now reloading.
“Sphere of protection!” Bander yelled.
Silbra Dal shook her head, trying to clear it.
“Mistress, please. Cast sphere of protection! Now!” Bander knew this was a long shot. Mages needed to be able to concentrate in order to cast a spell. That was tough when a crossbow bolt had just smashed into your back.
She mumbled something and tried to gesture, but Bander didn’t see any spell manifest. He quickly surveyed the alley, looking for a way to escape.
There were a few doors between them and the Shrikes. There was also a barrel and a handcart. Maybe someone had just made a delivery. He decided to go for it.
Snatching Silbra Dal up, Bander dashed to the doorway closest to the handcart. The two of them pressed into the doorway, just as another bolt flew past them. The second crossbowman wanted a clear shot, so he maneuvered himself into a better position.
Bander tried to open the door, but it was locked. He tried again, pushing against it, but to no avail. It would be easy to kick or bash it down, but he’d need to leave the doorway and get a running start.
“Captain…what..?” Silbra Dal staggered to her feet. Bander held her close, an idea forming in his mind.
The Shrikes fanned out into a semi-circle around them, not ten feet away.
“Shoot the big one,” the leader commanded.
"Gladly." The crossbowman took a step forward and raised his weapon.
“Wait,” Bander said. “We surrender.”
“We don’t want you to surrender,” the leader said. “We want you dead.” He motioned to the crossbowman.
Two things happened, more or less simultaneously, in the space of about a second and a half. The crossbowman fired. And Bander swung Silbra Dal in front of him, using her as a human shield.
Clang!
And Bander kept moving. He grabbed the handcart and swung it with all his might into the leader and the closest crossbowman. The cart smashed into the two men, knocking them back off their feet.
The other crossbowman was trying to lever his string back when Bander ripped the weapon from his hands and kicked him hard in the kidney.
Three down.
The last Shrike was armed with a sword and seemed undeterred by Bander’s rampage. He locked eyes with Bander and then lunged in with a hard diagonal slash.
But Bander brought up the crossbow to deflect the blow.
Normally a piece of wood couldn't do much to stop the attack of an experienced swordsman, but Bander had something else in mind. He used the crossbow to deflect his attacker's sword—just enough to allow Bander to step in and elbow the man squarely in the face. Crunch! The Shrike’s nose erupted in blood.
Without stopping Bander delivered a second blow, putting all his weight behind a deadly punch to the Shrike's sternum which propelled the guard up off his feet and down on his back. The man crumpled into an unconscious heap near the far wall of the alley.
Bander took a breath and shook the pain from his hand. He heard Silbra Dal yell a warning and he whirled around—just in time to see the leader of the group raise his sword above his head with both hands and prepare to cleave Bander in half.
The Shrike were outfitted with some of the best weapons in the Empire and Bander knew that his attacker’s blade was light and well-balanced. But he also knew that the distance his fist had to travel in a straight line from his shoulder to the Shrike’s throat was far less than the distance his attacker’s blade needed to travel in an arc from overhead to straight out in front of him.
It wasn’t even close. Bander landed a powerful blow which crushed the man’s larynx and put him down for good, gasping for a breath that would never come.
The other guardsmen began to stir, but before Bander could deal with them, Silbra Dal hissed the trigger word for a spell. The air crackled with electricity and Bander smelled a burning metallic odor. Then, suddenly, jagged bolts of lightning arced from her fingertips and found their targets: all four of the Shrike guardsmen. This was remarkable. Bander had witnessed many battle mages cast a lightning spell, but never against multiple targets.
The Shrike screamed and convulsed in pain. Eyes rolled back and tongues were bitten off. One man vomited steaming blood.
“Enough!” Bander said. He himself had been subjected to a similar attack from the battle mage Raggur Nil. The pain had been so intense that he had wished for the release of death. No doubt these Shrike were wishing for the same.
“I said, enough!”
But Silbra Dal ignored him. She stood tall; her face a mask of fury, almost as if she was possessed. One after another, the bolts kept coming. In a few more seconds, the guardsmen would be dead.
Bander grabbed Silbra Dal's shoulders as if to shake her from her murderous reverie. But she screamed in rage, and another bolt of lightning shot from her hands and towards Bander.
But it didn’t strike him.
The bolt fizzled and dissipated into the air with a loud crack. Hi
s natural magic resistance had somehow protected him.
Silbra Dal lowered her arms and ended the spell. There was a tense moment of silence between them. Then Bander growled, "Control yourself."
“They deserved to die.”
“Maybe so. But not like this. And not this publicly.”
Silbra Dal didn’t say anything, but she followed him out of the alley.
The battle surely attracted attention, so they had to get out of this area as quickly as possible. Bander steered them towards Old Dolwyn Road. It was the major road through the Berntrow District and there would be both city and Imperial guard on it, but he was betting that they’d all be converging on the alley the had just left. Skydagger monitored magic use within the city limits, and the mages there could pinpoint a magical attack in moments.
But his bet paid off. They saw two separate groups of guards, but the men pushed their way into the crowded street without noticing Bander and Silbra Dal.
Soon the guards would be setting up a perimeter around the alley, and then they’d expand it. They’d use scrying stones to coordinate the search. This wasn’t good.
It took them an additional twenty minutes, but finally, they arrived at the nondescript three storey residential building that served as the team's headquarters. In the upper suite of rooms, Bander found Dusk, Faramir Boldfist, and Wegg, but he cut short all the greetings.
“We need to leave the city now. Where’s Jaden?”
“He and Niam are tracking Chiran Hemmig,” Dusk said. “That was your intention, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, but I hope they are keeping their heads down. The city is on full alert.”
“Why? What happened?”
“I will explain later. What about Etthar Calain?”
“He hasn’t returned either.”
“We’ll all rendezvous at Mornwell Lodge.” He turned to Faramir Boldfist. “You remain here. Get word to Etthar Calain and Jaden. Can you do that?”
“Aye, as long as Jaden doesn’t mind me getting into his store of Lacredes. I tend to get a bit bored just waiting around.”
Bander smiled. “Just keep your wits about you.”
“I always do.”
As Dusk and Wegg gathered their bags, Bander turned to Silbra Dal. “Mistress, you must rid yourself of the armor now. It is too conspicuous. The entire city is looking for us.”
“I need to return it to the Lord Governor. It is important to him.”
“Your concern is admirable, but it is not worth forfeiting your life over. I suggest we cache the armor here.”
“But what if those hunting us find this location?”
Bander thought for a moment. It certainly was a possibility. Then another idea occurred to him. “You said the armor could be worn by anyone?”
“Yes. Don’t ask me to explain how it works, but the armor appears to be some sort of artifact which can morph itself to any-sized body.”
“Even his?” Bander motioned to Faramir Boldfist.
“Hold, old son. I don’t want to be responsible for some Lord Governor’s prized possession,” Faramir Boldfist said.
“Don’t worry. You’d be doing Bryn Eresthar a favor by keeping an eye on it,” Bander said. He nodded to Silbra Dal who began to pull off the various sections of armor.
“This I have to see,” Wegg said. “I can’t fathom what type of magic armor could expand so prodigiously as to fit over this one’s rotund form.”
They all watched as the Faramir Boldfist struggled to strap a small vambrace on his arm. It looked as if the armor wouldn't cover more than two-thirds of the warrior's forearm, but once he got it in place, the piece fit perfectly.
“Remarkable,” Dusk said.
Faramir Boldfist laughed and held up a breastplate in front of his chest. It barely covered a quarter of his bulk.
“Go on, then,” Wegg said.
“I don’t know how this is happening, but…” He pressed the breastplate over his heart and as the armor made contact with his body, it visibly expanded to exactly match the size and contours of Faramir Boldfist’s chest.
“No wonder the Lord Governor doesn’t want to lose that,” Dusk said. “It must be worth an emperor’s ransom.”
While the rest of the team marveled at the armor, Bander noticed that Silbra Dal walked off by herself. He followed her to the far end of the room.
“You should have Wegg look at where the crossbow bolts hit you,” Bander said.
She remained silent, averting her eyes.
He said, “You’re also going to need some new clothes. Dusk will be able to find something for you.”
After a few moments, Silbra Dal looked up. “I’m sorry.”
Before he could speak, she stepped closer. “In the alley. I lost control. I could have—”
“You didn’t.”
“I never intended to—”
Bander said, “It was the heat of battle.”
She took a deep breath. Her eyes watered slightly. “This power… I am unused to it.”
“Power without control is nothing.”
“Words of wisdom?”
“Not my own. My swordmaster Kalen used to say that all the time. I wager it’s just as applicable to magic.”
She nodded and dabbed at her eyes. “Just know that I am sorry.”
He touched her shoulder. “We have to go.”
Chapter Eight
AIDES BUZZED AROUND BRYN ERESTHAR LIKE FLIES. Since his return to Castle Flower, a hundred different people needed his attention. But he put most of them off so he could speak with members of his Council individually while he paced through the manor.
He was also due to address the citizens of Laketon in an hour and lead a vigil for those who lost their lives in Kreed's Keep. But right now it was his Magister of the Wand Oron Barr who paced with him towards his second-floor office. Bryn Eresthar led the mage inside the paneled room and shut the door behind them, much to the consternation of the excluded aides.
“We have received the waypoint gem. At the proper time tomorrow morning, I will open a portal for your meeting,” Oron Barr said.
“Are all the Lord Governors arriving in such a roundabout way—or is this special treatment just for me?”
“It’s a merely a precaution, Your Grace. It is believed that the enemies of the Empire could strike again at any time.”
“Tell me, Oron Barr, how do you see the coming days unfolding? I am asking for your counsel. Will Yrian Gast formally dissolve the Guild tomorrow?”
“Pardon Your Grace, but shouldn’t you be asking your legate such questions?”
“I have, but I want to hear your thoughts.”
“Very well.” The mage moved towards a divan. “May I?”
“Of course.” The two men sat facing each other.
“The Empire is scared,” Oron Barr said. “Both the government and the people. Everyone I know has lost someone in either Waterside or Kreed’s Keep. My brother lives in Waterside… lived…”
“I’m sorry, Oron Barr. I didn’t know.”
The magister quickly regained his composure. “We’ve never been attacked this way before…from the shadows. For three centuries, no wars have been fought on Harion’s soil.”
Bryn Eresthar nodded. “And our relations with the lesser countries are not so bad that they would warrant such an attack.”
“Beyond that, Your Grace, no other country has the magical capabilities that we do. Gadmark, the Territories, Kaarna, even Triscar have nothing more than mystics and shamans. No organization. No education. No access to artifacts. They are centuries behind us.”
Bryn Eresthar knew in his heart that it was Asryn who was behind the attacks, but he wanted to hear another perspective. So he continued to prod his Magister of the Wand. “Yet the fact remains that someone has struck two deadly blows against the Empire.”
“Yes,” Oron Barr said.
“And while any sort of villain might be capable of dropping a cask of poison into the Kreed’s Keep reservoi
r, only a mage could use the artifact which destroyed Waterside.”
“True.”
“So we have only two possibilities, do we not? The attack was either orchestrated by the Guild or it was orchestrated by those outside of the Guild.”
“It would seem so.”
“Removing other countries from the equation, who outside of the Guild might have the skill to use an artifact?”
Oron Barr thought for a while. Then he said, “That is difficult to ascertain, Your Grace. As you know, the Witches of Melikti are the only other organized group outside of the Guild who wield magic. Yet they do not utilize any sort of objects at all in their art, let alone artifacts like the Donden Cage. From what I know, their sphere of magic is of the mind. Almost exclusively.”
“That is my understanding as well.”
“So that leaves the so-called ’rogue’ mages, some of whom with you are undoubtedly familiar.”
Bryn Eresthar’s early exploits with other famous adventurers were well known in certain circles. Most of his Council knew of his long friendship with Hirbo Thrang—although they would all be surprised to learn that particular rogue mage was ensconced in their Lord Governor’s apartments at this moment, disguised as an Imperial guardian knight. Nonetheless, Bryn Eresthar shrugged off the implied accusation.
“Continue.”
Oron Barr said, “No one is sure how many mages have shunned the Guild and live in the shadows. It could be a dozen, it could be more.”
“And one of these men—”
“Or women.”
“One of these men or women could have stolen this Donden Cage and used it to destroy Waterside…?” Bryn Eresthar asked.
“Exactly.”
“For what reason? Who bears the Empire or the Guild such ill will?”
Oron Barr sighed. “That is a question for which I have no answer, Your Grace.”
Bryn Eresthar sat back. “I suppose that’s what the Viceroy wants to discuss. But it doesn’t look good for the Guild. Halls in many cities have been shuttered. It is just a matter of time before you will be the only mage remaining in Laketon.”
“May I speak frankly, Your Grace?”
“Of course.”
“Your testimony did the Guild no favors. One could say it was even damning.”
