by R. K. Thorne
Perik met him at the entrance—had the crash been heard even here?—handing him his pack. Aven spouted a list of orders for whom to fetch, what to tell them, where to send them, where to go. Before he charged off, Perik forced a horse’s reins into his hands. Although the tower wasn’t far, in the end he did appreciate the rest from running, especially when he was climbing as fast as he could up to the top. As he neared, he could hear Jaena’s laughter rolling down the stairwell—dark, almost manic.
At the top, nearly every mage they had was waiting for him. All except Miara, of course. He pushed the bitter pain aside. Dropping the pack near the low lookout wall, he collapsed to his knees and looked out over the city.
“North gate’s gone,” Tharomar said quickly. “Jaena’s rather… gleefully causing havoc. Some mages attacking, but not two hundred. Not yet, anyway.”
The normally flat fields outside Ranok were already marred with three strange, dune-like hills and one gash in the earth. In much worse shape was the city wall. Two men thick and five men high, it lay crumpled not just at the north gate but stretching out in both directions. He swore under his breath. Mages to take down defenses in preparation for the soldiers in the morning? Yes, that must be their plan.
Aven peered down, eying the mages. With a small group, freeing a few could make more of a difference. He glanced up at the sky. Darkening, but not yet black, and certainly no stars.
As he looked around for something else to try, he noticed a group of troops scrambling in the distance. He took the spyglass from his belt and looked out. All he could see was a slight hill he hadn’t seen before and an eerie glow.
“Siliana, Jaena—any idea what those troops out there are up to? They’re swarming away from their campsite, but not in this direction.”
The two women were silent for a moment. Jaena slowly raised her eyebrows. “Can I see?” She held out her hand.
He gave her the spyglass and waited impatiently, tapping his foot and searching the field below for the next best move.
“Well, by the gods.” She lowered the glass. “There’s some earth mage at work out there, but not any of ours. I can’t feel the mage, but I think he opened up a canyon blocking the troops for at least a mile. And it’s getting wider. Should I add to it?”
An earth mage—like Thel? He crushed the surge of hope. “Yes, by all means!”
She nodded and handed him back the glass, her eyes glassy and focused off in the distance. Before she could finish, the rock of the tower beneath them shook violently.
Stumbling, Aven swore as his shoulder thudded hard into the wall.
“They’ve got tons of earth mages,” Siliana shouted. “At least ten out of that small group. At least half of the mages I checked. Unusual.”
The tower shook again, and Aven grabbed onto the top of the low wall beside him. “Are we going down in this?” he shouted. “Do we need to—”
“They’re just shaking the ground, I think—” said Jaena.
“No,” Siliana said, cutting her off. “I’m in their heads. I can see what they’re trying to do, and that’s crumble this on our heads.”
“Over my dead body!” Jaena snapped.
“Not literally, please,” said Ro.
A loud crack sounded above them.
“That’s it! Everybody—go, go, down the stairs,” Jaena shouted through gritted teeth. “Get down. I’ll hold it for now. Go. Hurry!”
Aven didn’t need encouragement. He raced back down the stairs, racking his brain for a better strategy than fleeing down the stairs with his pack. Where next? Where wouldn’t they expect? Where would be so obvious they’d never think to attack there?
He glanced up at the sky. Clouds covered half the darkening sky. They’d be out soon, but could he reach them if he couldn’t see them? What if he grabbed the wrong one?
Another loud crumbling of stone reached his ears, and he darted farther away from the tower he’d just abandoned, staring back over his shoulder.
The middle of the tower had fully collapsed, but true to Jaena’s word, the top of the tower floated in the air, bobbing slightly, but mostly staying up.
Aven just stared. By the gods, that woman could move the earth. Let it be enough.
Slowly the rocky top of the tower drifted down to the ground. First Ro stepped out, then Jaena. Then after she was a few paces away, the tower’s top collapsed into a pile of stray, disconnected stones. But it didn’t linger for long. The giant, thick bricks were floating up into the air and out toward the field at incredibly fast rates.
Jaena and Ro, he realized. Lobbing building materials at their enemies. Thank the gods for them.
But unfortunately, the mage slaves could lob building materials too. He heard the whistling—and felt the fire with his magic—before he could see the huge rock hurtling toward them. Straight for Jaena and Ro.
As he dashed for a side street, he thrust a massive gust of wind, hoping to knock it aside, but it had no effect. A mage caught it before it could land. Aven did successfully suck the energy from the flames on the rock, but only just barely before it slammed into the spot where the tower had once stood.
He caught his breath. Had it hit them?
Another whistling projectile caught his ears. He reached out for it, to thrust it back, and found the energy of at least five mages pushing the rock forward—and Aven out of the way.
Siliana and Teron were huddled in a shop doorway, glancing around frantically.
“Over here! Come on,” Aven called.
As they ran toward him, Derk emerged from the next side street over and jogged toward him too. All three mages stopped when they reached him.
“Where to, my king?” Derk said, his snark just this side of bleak despair.
“This way,” said Aven, turning and motioning for them to follow. “We need another tower.”
Ro dove out of the way just in time, finding himself sprawled against other warm, bony bodies. He hauled himself to his feet and found he’d crushed Sestin, the healer. Wessa bent down to help him up.
The three of them looked around uncertainly.
“Jaena!” he called. “Jae!” He took a few steps toward the boulder. He didn’t think it’d hit her, but he couldn’t see her anywhere else.
A whistling sound caught his ears, and someone caught his hand, dragging him back against the side of the building.
“Look.” Wessa pointed to a nearby section where a building wall had collapsed. A woman had been crushed, two children trying to frantically uncover her.
Glancing back once more in hopes of finding Jae, he turned and started toward the wall at a jog. “Come on. We have to help them.”
The other mages didn’t disagree. They followed closely behind him, eyes darting around the torn-up square around them. By Nefrana, just their luck—three mages with barely a week’s training combined, and they’d gotten themselves separated.
“We’ll help them, then we have to find the others,” he grumbled.
“Of course, of course,” said Sestin.
Ro heaved the rock off the woman with mostly physical force, aided by a little magic. Or maybe a lot. He wasn’t really sure, but the two healers quickly went to work, mending her legs. One of the children clung to his leg silently. The other hung around Wessa’s neck, crying, while the mother tried to pat their back.
“It’s all right,” he said to the quiet child. “Help is here. But when she’s better, you all go as far south in the city as you can. All right?”
The wide blue eyes looking up at him nodded, still fearful but determined now.
He wondered if all that was all a lie. He knew full well things did not always end up “all right.”
By the time Aven and his small group had located another tower and raced halfway up—as Teron was not going to be pulling any of the tricks Jaena had—night had completely fallen. Aven lit each torch they passed idly, and they gathered around an arrowslit to stare down at the raging, chaotic mage battle below. The stars should be out
by now…
He had to try.
He chose a mage near the outside, so tiny from that height he couldn’t even tell their gender, just that someone was there. He batted some of the clouds away above him and hoped the mages would be distracted long enough to let him through and find the right star. Yes, he could see it and its neighbors. Reaching up to Casel, he gripped the now-familiar, beautiful white smoke, and twisted it down, calling it out, summoning the icy water deep inside—and funneling it at the mage. As he worked, he sensed the others at work around him, focused intently on the battle below.
Unlike when using farsight, he had difficulty aiming. The mage was small and hard to hit, and at first it seemed he wouldn’t be able to make contact long enough to get a spark. Then he thought he’d hit the mage spot-on, but nothing changed. He couldn’t even see the mage clearly enough to determine if they were itching their arm. One boon was that Aven didn’t feel as drained as usual. He was getting better at throttling it and channeling the energy where it needed to go.
“Siliana—that one on the far right,” he said, pointing. “I’ve freed them, I think. Can you tell them—”
“On it,” she said quickly, glaring intently at the tiny mage far below them. “Found her. Telling her—”
The freed mage turned and ran east, toward Takar. She didn’t make it far before an arrow sent the mage sprawling. She collapsed on the ground and moved no more.
“Damn it,” Aven muttered. “The soldiers are watching them. Damn it.”
Dark, thick clouds had gathered, and icy rain started to cascade down.
“What do we try now?” asked Teron. “They don’t have many swords for me to rob them of. I’m just shaking the ground over here.”
“Not too close to us, I hope,” Aven said. He sighed, searching his brain for the next move. “Or maybe closer is what we need to get…” He glanced up at Derk, who smiled crookedly.
“We need horses,” said Derk, nodding. “Warhorses. I’ll get on it.” He started for the stairs.
“No, I can find some and call them here,” Siliana said in a rush. “If we all go down now to greet them?”
Aven nodded. “Let’s go.”
Jaena staggered out of the dust, coughing and desperately sucking down air. She collapsed against the nearest wall, sliding to a seat as she struggled to breathe. Of course the dirt cloud had hit her—just her luck.
“Are you all right?” a young voice said.
Bleary and blinking, Jaena struggled to see—there was dust in her eyes too, damn it.
“It’s Luha and Pytor,” said Miara’s father’s voice. “We can heal you if—”
“No, I’m all right,” she managed, hacking out another cough. “Just a little dust, that’s all.”
“Mother—this way, now,” someone shouted. The voice drew closer, and she struggled to see. Prince Dom was dragging his mother around the corner toward them.
“But Aven went that way—”
“And we’re unarmed and unarmored and not going with him.” Dom stopped, seeing the three of them standing, and approached.
“Has anyone seen Ro?” Jaena asked, her voice finally almost working. They all shook their heads no. “Tharomar!”
The silence of the response was deafening.
“How about we get back to the north gate?” said Jaena. Dom turned an incredulous stare her way. “I mean, what’s left of it. We could build up a barricade, and they won’t look for us there; they think they’ve already torn that down. And we would be able to see a little better.”
“And also get stuck by swords,” Dom replied, clearly dubious.
She pointed up at the sky. “Would you prefer giant boulders? Hiding inside is not going to help in a fight like this. Nothing is going to stop them.” She glanced around at all of them. “Now, c’mon.”
Jaena took off back the way they’d come, and the others followed. Yes, this was a game of hide and seek, and their enemy had already checked this spot.
Before their small ragged group could reach the gate, two platoons of city guards surged past, heading toward the mass of mages on the field. Gods, she hoped some of the air mages were watching this, understanding. Unless Akarian air mages fought whatever the Kavanarian mage slaves threw at them, these troops would be toasted in no time.
Icy rain finally reached them, and she was soaked through before they reached the remains of the north gate. Well, at least that would help with the walls of fire.
They hunkered behind the largest bits of rubble, and Jaena looked out along the walls, expecting to see a large section of wall torn down. In truth, she couldn’t see any wall remaining standing. Shattered walls curved away and disappeared out of sight. Houses, too, that had leaned outside against Panar’s walls for security, for trade, many of them had been crushed to little more than piles of rubble.
The troops surged past them, and sure enough, a wall of flame materialized. Jaena focused on the mages, jiggling the ground and finding a breastplate and heating it red-hot. Its owner staggered back, as though to avoid the heat strapped to his chest.
The wall did falter somewhat. A storm cloud coalesced inside the wall of flame, lightning snaking out toward the mages nearby, upsetting the wall or at least the mages’ grip on it.
Some troops were caught by the flames, but others surged and sprinted around it.
Jaena did her best to help them as soldiers reached mages. She knocked a mage off-balance behind a soldier who wasn’t looking. Then she lobbed a stray boulder to finish the job. Mages finally drew their swords in combat, and she poured energy into the metal. Six swords dropped in a matter of seconds.
In spite of the determined efforts of the healers around her, both forces slowly dwindled. Two platoons hadn’t been much to send up against this handful of mages. And then, before the last mage slave had fallen and faded away, another twenty poured forth, like they were nothing. The new mages trudged—clearly already exhausted—on foot toward the battle. She gritted her teeth. They deserved better than this. Better than no choice but to march to their deaths. Or their mass murders.
Still, though, it wasn’t even two hours before all the soldiers of the first wave were dead. She didn’t catch quite when it happened, but all of a sudden, she looked up and couldn’t spot any Akarians. Stands of archers took over behind her now, peppering the battlefield with arrows. Some of them burst into flame as they approached their victims.
Seven hells, the destruction.
The death.
The mage slaves might be exhausted. But maybe they weren’t. Maybe they were just getting started.
The buildings outside the wall started to fall now. Systematically, each was torn asunder, wood splintering when rock tore through it, stone sliding and grinding apart—and then flying into the city, impromptu artillery.
Another wave of troops surged past Jaena and her creature mage fellows. Pytor and Luha were hard at work on bees, brambles, and vines, while Elise was healing and Dom guarding their backs. Which, frankly, was nice in this situation. Certainly he was probably donating his mother power too.
But it wasn’t really working. It wasn’t really enough. Almost pointless, even. In next to no time, the new wave of troops that had been four times the size of the last were melting already.
She winced. These mages would destroy everything in their path. Everything. Every beautiful white tower and sunny, tree-covered garden, all the way to Panar’s quiet docks. Step by step, these mages would work their way through the city, until all the buildings were gone.
Where Panar had once stood, only a dusty field, bloodstains, and skeletons would remain. And all of her dreams of making a life here with Ro would be gone too, sand blown into the wind.
“Tharomar!” she yelled. “Ro! Where are you—”
Dom grabbed her arm and shook her. “Keep it down, or they will come looking.”
“Or drop a boulder on us,” Luha mumbled.
Forgetting the battle—no, she wasn’t giving up, she just… nee
ded to know what had happened to Ro—she grabbed Pytor’s arm. “Help me find Tharomar. Please.”
With one quick nod, the creature mage shut his eyes and began searching.
Aven didn’t bother to question whether riding out into the fray was a bit suicidal. It was definitely suicidal. But he had no other ideas, and so he fell back on what he knew best.
The kind of war that involved swords and horses.
Derk at his side, Aven raced out toward the mages. A wall of fire appeared, predictably, and Aven started grabbing energy left and right, ripping the wall apart. Derk followed his lead.
The formation fell to pieces, but now he was too full, too hot. He seized hold of the energy, formed it into lightning, and flung it at the Kavanarians closest to him.
Three mages went down, writhing. Aven searched for the command tent and its red flag, but the fog and the smoke obscured nearly everything.
Abruptly, he felt himself falling, almost as if—as if— No, it was really happening. The warhorse Derk had found was shrinking down beneath him.
He landed awkwardly, stumbling onto his side. He glanced up just in time to see a boulder flying toward his head.
He rolled, dodging. A sword left its sheath behind him. He staggered to his feet, whirling as he drew his own sword. Keeping the blade low, he waited. A burly mage with feathered wings on his back stared him down. Damn, a creature mage. He’d have to strike a killing blow.
The mage seemed determined to out-wait him, so Aven lunged forward. His opponent’s sword rose, but not fast enough, almost… intentionally slow. His blade sunk into the man’s ribs. Aven straightened, yanking the sword away, alarmed.
Just then another one of the mages leapt in front of him, but facing the other slaves. Almost as if she were ready to face them. But that couldn’t be, she was a—
“Who are you?” he demanded. “What are you doing?”
“Menaha,” the woman growled. “And I’m defending you, obviously.”
Menaha. Menaha! “From Mage Hall?”
“Good guess,” she said wryly.
