by H. M. Clarke
Kathryn abruptly blushed red and turned away. Across the Link he felt a little embarrassment, and something else. Something he didn’t expect. He took another bite of his scone.
“The Line Master is signaling.” Kathryn nodded toward the head of the column.
Dagan nodded and quickly re-wrapped the remaining scones and placed them into his saddlebags and slipped the rein from his wrist and took it back in his hand. “He wants us to pick up the pace.” They then urged their horses into a fast trot.
Long before they reached the river, they could hear it, overflowing its banks in the late unseasonable rain, rumbling stones and tree branches along in its course.
They crossed it shortly before noon and rode deeper into the forest. The rain lessened. Twice the Line Master stopped the column to let the horses rest, and the soldiers sat talking in their saddles, passing water skins back and forth, the steam rising from the flanks and backs of their horses.
Dagan dismounted the second time they stopped and walked around to stretch his legs. He kicked up the mulch under his feet and watched the exposed white insects burrow away from the open air, starkly reminding him of the foes they were baiting. Something in the air did not feel right.
Tearing up the floor of the forest with his heels, Dagan walked back to his horse and mounted.
They moved on. The Line Master moved the men riding behind up to the front to give them a reprieve from having mud kicked up into their faces.
They rode into a crossroads, and the Line Master called orders in a crisp voice. The column slowed to a slow trot. In the middle of the junction stood an old stone marker covered with climbing blue flowers. Smoothly, without changing pace, the horsemen swung into the right branch of the road without even glancing at the monument.
That strange feeling came over Dagan again and he felt his hands tighten on his reins as he looked toward the surrounding trees. He felt rather than saw Kathryn look at him curiously. She felt his uneasiness through the Link.
“Dagan?” Her voice whispered to his ears just above the sound of the horses.
He didn’t answer. Instead he unhooked his staff from his saddle and held it ready. Ryn watched and loosened the strap holding her shield to her back and looked out at the forest on her side of the line.
They rode through the junction, their horses following those ahead when above them was heard a piercing cry.
Peck came flying quick and low over the column and, just missing Dagan’s head disappeared into the thick trees. Ryn immediately came on guard and kept her eyes focused on the wall of trees that Peck had entered. Dagan tightened his reins and his horse slowed in response. The crow’s appearance automatically set all the Blackwatch in the column on edge. Obviously they were used to Kathryn and her Nabolean Crow. He whistled, sending a signal to all the Magisters in the column to be ready for trouble.
The column slowed and Dagan noted that riders dropped back to surround and be ready to protect the prison wagon.
“Dagan-”
Ryn was suddenly interrupted by a loud screech and the sound of fiercely beating wings coming from the woods.
“Peck!” Kathryn’s horse reared slightly
Dagan let his magic flow into his staff and activate its runes.
Half the company silently dismounted and stood by the head of their horse. Kathryn and Dagan included. Silence descended over the caravan as each Blackwatch and Magister waited.
Calls, scattered and clipped, echoed through the trees. A series of thumping footfalls nearing. Branches breaking. Foliage crunching. The hiss of blades drawn. The wrap of wood. A silent moment stretched for ages.
And then all Sorrows broke loose.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Boots pounded the ground. An arrow flew past and hit the stone monument with a whine and a thwack. It’s fletching placing a splash of red against the blanket of blue flowers.
Runestaves lit up as a yellow and pink force shields sprang around them as the Blackwatch mages threw up projectile protection for their pairs and the rest of the line. An arrow, two, a dozen glanced off, diverted. A mixed group of Blackwatch and Magisters broke away from the column and disappeared into the trees.
A great boom shook through the ground. Screams. Another boom and shrieks. The hiss of fire and crackling. The yawning groan and creaking of a great tree falling rattled their footing.
Ryn peeked around her horse through the blurry distortion of the Blackwatch’s force shields.
Fire gorged on the forest in an arc that spread over pits, fallen trees, and crumpled bodies. Horses screamed as they jumped through the flames. A second wave of about fifteen men charged straight for them, with more behind.
Dagan’s staff flared and a plane of azure light rippled out toward the riders. Horses and men were thrown back toward the flames, cries tearing through the air. Half a dozen riders still charged. The loose horses about them scattered into the other side of the junction.
Ryn unslung her shield from her back and hefted it onto her left arm. “Where are the others? They were supposed be shadowing us.”
Dagan nodded toward the burning trees. “Out there. The loud booms are Vannik’s work and if I’m not mistaken, the fire is courtesy of Donal.”
“We’ve got to help them.”
“No. We need to protect that wagon. Come on.”
Dagan took off, weaving through the horses and soldiers towards the back of the column and the wagon. After one last look at the burning trees Ryn followed him.
The wagon was enveloped within a protective yellow shield which must have come down so fast it had split through trees, shearing some of them neatly in two. Around the wagon were Blackwatch magi, their staves lit up reflecting a myriad of colors against the mellowed oak of the wagon. Their warrior pairs were standing just within the edge of the shield, waiting.
A boom sounded not far from them and Ryn spun around to meet the new threat. Orange light flared through the trees. Dagan stepped forward, swinging his blue lit Runestaff in his hands.
“Here they come!” a Blackwatch warrior called back to them and everyone around the wagon tensed. Ryn came alongside Dagan and set her shield and readied her sword.
Distant stone spikes erupted from the ground and sped toward them in a twenty-foot swath.
Dagan spun the staff through his hands and in the blink of an eye, a flash of blue, and the air shimmered as he directed his force outward into a hurricane toward the oncoming attackers. Wood splintered as the whirling air fed oxygen to the flames, making the sap in the trees expand and explode. The fire now burned brighter, stronger.
The hurricane split, dispelled. A man advanced through, followed by two others. The staff in his hand was bright with orange runes.
Burning trees collapsed behind the men and they stopped several feet before the edge of the force shield. One of them shot a bolt against the Blackwatch shield and watched the shield ripple rainbow colors with the impact.
A roar came from the burning trees and Ryn’s eyes moved from the trio in time to see a great, gray horse sail through the flames. On its back was Bron.
The gray landed hard and several daggers flashed out, striking one of the men square in the back and slicing the sleeve on another. The Blackwatch warriors within the safety of the shield roared back in response and charged.
Abruptly her vision turned blue. Dagan had charmed a shield about them both. Vannik–the gray horse was definitely Vannik- and Bron charged between the men and passed through the Blackwatch shield.
“They’re ours!” Ryn shouted, more for the Magisters than the Blackwatch. But she did not take her eyes from the two men left standing. Dagan whirled his staff again and Ryn moved to balance on the balls of her feet, ready to sprint.
The two men then split from each other, circling their way around the edge of the shield. Vannik went after one with Bron shouting curses on all Magi. Dagan’s whirling staff shot magic projectiles at the other. One hit a trunk and shattered it. One hit the ground and exp
loded in a burst of blue. Still, the mage evaded, using the trees and the milling horses for cover.
What in Bellus’s name is he up too? Ryn wondered as Dagan moved to follow him. The look on the man’s face as they came out of the forest made her uneasy. Either way, he had to be stopped.
A man charged through the protecting shield toward her amid the chaos of weapons, blood, and magic. A large group followed him from out of the burning trees. Ryn spun behind her, sweeping her sword through the man’s neck. A head toppled to the ground. A second and third man advanced; she faced them, her face spattered red. An arrow glanced off her scale and became tangled in her cloak.
In her periphery, she saw the mage tumble to the dirt in a wreath of blue flame. Dagan moved behind her, his concentration focused entirely on the mage. Sounds of fighting and magic were all around her, but the two warriors slowed to circle her and Dagan.
A howl of wind and rage sprang into a cage around Dagan, concentrated within his own shield. Enemy magic. She felt him cursing at himself over the Link, he had not charmed the shield to go into and cover the ground as they would be moving.
One of the circling men moved in, short sword raised, and Ryn swung her sword, slicing through his flesh with deceptive ease. Blood hit her shield. He dropped his sword and fled back, clutching an arm only still attached by a lump of flesh. The other man–Ryn could not see him–The wind surrounding Dagan tugged at her cloak, the sound of it blocking everything except the cries of the injured. Her heart thundered.
“Kathryn!”
Dagan’s voice. A warning.
She spun and parried the attacker’s sword and punched the man in the face with the edge of her shield.
Bloodied teeth flew.
The man staggered and fell.
A shadow passed over her from behind. She jumped forward. A heavy mace thudded into the ground where she’d stood. She looked up.
And up.
This man was a giant. Ryn firmed her grip on her shield and swung it up in time to take an overhead blow from the mace. She could feel the blow vibrate along her arm, right to the bone. Pain flared up in her arm and her forearm bent like a marsh reed in the wind. In spasms of movement, she dragged herself a few feet back closer to the wagon, her shield pulling her left side down like a lead weight.
She should unbuckle it.
No time.
Another strike. She dove aside.
Attack.
She had to attack.
But her throbbing arm wouldn’t cooperate and she didn’t dare stop moving. She feinted with her sword and scrambled away from another hit, closer to Dagan and his wind cage.
Her attacker raised the mace again and swung.
She brought her sword up to meet it.
Blood sprayed suddenly from a severed neck as the man’s head flew over her to be caught up in the wind. The mace plummeted onto her injured arm and ribs.
Breathe.
She couldn’t.
Her vision flashed white. Excruciating pain pulsed from her side. She dropped to a knee.
Ashe pushed the headless body aside as he rushed to her aid.
“Ryn!”
“Ashe.”
He dropped beside her and unbuckled the shield from her injured arm and began to examine it. Ryn tried not to cry out in pain.
“Playing the hero again I see.”
Ryn squinted to look past Ashe to see Donal standing behind him. “If we’re just playing, then I think it’s time for me to go home.” She tried not to laugh, but the pain that shot through her chest told Ryn she was unsuccessful.
“Ashe. Move and make sure no one tries to stick me in the back as I work.”
Ashe nodded and grabbing his sword and Ryn’s shield, rose to his feet and slipped back to give Donal room.
Donal’s runestaff was already glowing purple as he knelt beside her. He touched the head of his staff to her upper arm and the purple quickly seeped from the runes of the staff onto her arm and was quickly absorbed into her body.
“The healing charm should work quickly. Where’s Dagan?” he asked.
Ryn jerked her head toward the whirling wind.
“He’s trapped in there.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Denser and denser and tightening. The whirl of wind whipped around Dagan, slowly constricting around him. One touch and it would rip him to shreds. It was created to stop physical things, but magic? He fed magic into his runestaff, feeling the draw on his body. The wind whipped faster and Dagan sent a tendril of power into the whirling wind, it slipped easily through, and let it trace its way back along the winds charm path back toward its maker.
A dark, hulking shadow passed across the wind wall, heading toward where he sensed Kathryn was.
“Kathryn!”
Just in time. Dagan watched the shadow play as Kathryn turned and struck the figure with her shield.
He had to get out.
The tendril of magic tracked to connect with the ring of blue fire that still spun around the enemy. Dagan fed the flames higher. The mage answered back by whipping the winds faster, its eye slowly shrinking in on itself.
Then pain flooded his body, and he found it hard to breathe. Kathryn! He looked about him but could not see anything beyond the blur of the whirling wind wall.
He had to get out.
With more willpower than Dagan thought he had, he dampened the Link to Kathryn and the pain and agony that pulsed through his body dropped to a dull ache. She was still alive and was still trying to fight. But he had let her down. Again. They were supposed to protect each other, yet she was the one who received all the pain.
He fed his flame wall magic through the tendril making it twist and shrink towards the captured mage, while with his runestaff he wove a separate charm. A blue wind quickly spun up from his feet and formed a wall between him and the enemy cage. Needing more on his concentration, Dagan dispelled the force shield he had been maintaining and both wind spells, no longer contained, shot up into the sky.
He then drew a deep breath and abruptly felt the dull ache of Kathryn’s wounds disappear. Healing magic. Donal must have found her. Dagan swung his staff and rammed its heel hard into the muddy ground. Power rippled from it to the whirling blue wind, its cyclonic speeds now sucked at the orange, grabbing it, pulling it in and then blasting it apart in a torrent of energy and magic. Flying splinters, mud and dirt flew outward. Something hollow hit the wagon with enough force to wedge it in the oak.
Dagan paid it no heed, his attention entirely focused on the mage within his fire wall. He was now free.
The mage raised a dirt dais out of the circle of flame. Jumped off onto the muddy ground near the monument. This man knew his magic. He must be the one in charge of this group.
Holding the fire wall up he siphoned more magic from his pool, widening control of his fire wall as far as it would go, spreading it in a massive circle that stretched past the mage in every direction. He flicked his staff and pulled it all together. Roaring fire converged in one location. Unrelenting pressure and heat raged over the mage, engulfing him. To keep stable, it required magic, more and more and more. He gave and gave and gave. Kept the mage within it. The orange wind cut through it from the inside, but he fed the indomitable blue fire the magic to obliterate it. If he had the larger magic pool, he’d win this test of endurance.
Dagan now pulled the fire into a large, towering inferno over the place where the mage had landed. Dagan could see him throwing up shield after shield, only to have it burnt away by hungry blue flames. The fire absorbing the orange magic to fuel its own. Dagan could feel the heat of the flames against his skin and the blue flowers covering the monument were now burning away to ash.
The fight against the fire died. Dagan felt the resistance drop away, and the fire rushed into the vacuum. He dispelled it. The man collapsed into the mud, exhausted, his clothes and hair singed and smoking.
Too bad he needed his man alive.
In moments the Blackwatch and Mag
isters were upon the mage placing security charms and an inhibitor on him. Dagan leaned heavily on his staff and let the blue runes fade back into the wood. The sounds of battle had calmed. The mud in the junction was all torn up and bloody. The fires still blazed in the woods opposite, the Blackwatch magi were working on putting them out. A tug on the Link made him turn.
Kathryn’s eyes met his as she gritted her teeth under Donal’s care. Ashe was hunched over both, as if sheltering them from the wind.
She was all right. She was alive.
Banar dusted off his cloak as he approached them, Lily hard on his heels the runes on her staff still lit as if expecting more trouble.
“Dagan!”
Dagan cocked his head and saw Bron appear from the now smoldering trees with Vannik clad only in a cloak, his metal rod clutched firmly in his hand. Dagan raised his hand to acknowledge them.
The prisoner was now secure. That battle was a lot harder than it should have been. He needed to practice more. Dagan made a mental note to ask Kimba to train with him when they next had the chance.
“Did we get him?” Bron asked, stopping next to Dagan and tossing a leather bag over to Vannik.
“Vannik!, You’ve blinded me! We didn’t need to see that.” Banar turned his face away from them, a hand over his eyes. Next to him, Lily just stood staring at Vannik.
Vannik stood motionless, his arm still outstretched holding the caught bag, his now open cloak flapping in the wind.
“You can put it away now Vannik, this is the second time in as many days that I’ve seen you naked and that is two times too many for me,” Kathryn said trying not to laugh.
“Don’t stand there like an imbecile go, get dressed brother,” Bron hissed at him.
The big man meekly nodded and caught the edges of his cloak around him and disappeared back into the trees.
“We got him Bron,” Dagan then said jerking his head in the Mage’s direction. “Kathryn, how are you feeling?” Kathryn was covered in blood, mud and soot, but even through that he could see the sparkle in her eyes.
