Essence of Chaos

by Marie Andreas

  Jenna bit her lip and looked around at the trees surrounding them. “No, I don’t see anything like that.”

  “Nothing? Nothing at all?” He was stunned. He’d never thought to ask her that simple question. He could see how the Power was drawn to her. The lines bent in her direction no matter where she walked. He knew she had been having some sporadic problems with her magic, losing control of it completely from time to time and the like. Fortunately, the loss of control had made the Power disappear, not burst out randomly. But he’d never thought to check her perception abilities.

  “Jenna, I want you to look carefully at those two trees over there.” He pointed to two slender pines across the clearing. The Power emanating from them was quite substantial. Nature’s chaotic Power was often found in groupings. If a mage needed a big burst, they went directly to the realm of chaos. Otherwise, they drew what they were able to from the general flow of the world around them.

  Jenna stared at the two trees. Finally she shook her head. “Still nothing. What, exactly, should I see?”

  Ghortin quickly flung a spell at Jenna. It dissipated into nothing as her shields deflected it.

  “Well, your magic is still working, that’s good. Where did you pull your energy from?” Maybe if they backtracked enough he could find the weak link.

  “From the chaotic plane.”

  “But you didn’t tie into it.”

  “From my memory of the plane. For simple things all I need are the colors. Isn’t that what you—” she paused and peered closely at him. “What’s wrong?”

  “From the memory? How can you—but how?” He shook his head. “Then why did you break concentration in mid-fight to pull Power?”

  “For bigger things I prefer to go back there. I usually can use the memory, but I like visiting.” She shrugged and looked embarrassed, “I guess my subconscious takes over in times of stress and takes me there. I realize I shouldn’t, especially not in a battle.” She broke off and frowned at him. “Why are you staring at me like I just grew two heads and fangs?”

  Ghortin smiled weakly and looked around for a place to sit. Finding none close by, he settled on the ground with a thud.

  Jenna folded her arms and glared. “Oh, come on. I can’t be the only one who likes visiting that place. I know I shouldn’t do it in a fight, but I don’t see why you have to act so strangely about all this. So I can’t see something magic in the trees. So I visit the chaotic plane because I like it. I’m still a mage, aren’t I?”

  Ghortin ran a shaking hand over suddenly tired eyes. “You shouldn’t be.” It was little more than a whisper, but he spoke louder as Jenna leaned forward. “You shouldn’t be working magically at all. But you do, and you are going from what your mind remembers of the chaotic realm. Can’t see the natural Powerlines, even though they love you.” He gave a weak laugh. “You know, we might have a chance in this upcoming battle, if we can get you trained without blowing all of us up.”

  Now it was Jenna’s turn to sit down heavily. “What do you mean, blow us up? Have I been doing something wrong?” Her face went pale.

  “Tis my fault, lass. You latched on so quickly to the gift, I never thought to see how you were using it. I can’t say about Rachael and Tor Ranshal, but maybe that’s how you Guardians work. I’ve never heard of someone who attracts magic like you do, who can’t see it, but can pull Power from a memory of the realm of chaos. You shouldn’t be able to do that. And if it could be done, you should have burnt yourself to a cinder almost immediately.” He waggled a thick finger at her. “Although your magic shutdowns could have been a result of this.”

  His initial shock was wearing off and excitement at this new development took its place. The rash young mage who had fought all rules and tamed a vortex was rising to the surface. “Now, we’ll have to take things slow, but with extensive retraining, I think we can make you into one of the deadliest mages this world has ever seen. Including the cuari.”

  Jenna rubbed her arms as if cold. “I don’t know if—”

  Jenna’s words were lost as a blast of pure Power ransacked Ghortin’s head. He felt like his mind was being forced out of his ears and his eyes were about to explode. Jenna had curled over, obviously in the same predicament.

  As suddenly as it came, the pain was gone, leaving a dull throbbing in its wake.

  Ghortin recovered first, although his head still felt like a cracked vase. “Come on, we’ve got to get back to camp.” It took him three attempts before he was successful in getting up. Jenna had to be hauled up and they leaned heavily on each other as they made their way back to camp.

  Storm laughed as Ghortin and Jenna staggered toward him. “Have you two been drinking already?” His joking stopped when he got a good look at Jenna’s pain-twisted face. He rushed forward and took her from Ghortin. Ghortin swayed a bit and adjusted himself so that he could lean upon Storm’s shoulders.

  Wordlessly, Storm led them into the center of camp. It was clear that every mage-gifted person in their group was in similar straits. He helped them to Ghortin’s tent and tried to make them comfortable. He didn’t know who could help them, but he knew he had to look.

  Stepping outside, he stumbled on a prone figure that wasn’t there when he brought Jenna and Ghortin inside. He was shocked to see it was Keanin. He looked no better than the rest of the mage-gifted; in fact, he looked worse. Storm shook his head as he lifted Keanin up. As far as he knew, his childhood friend had no mage-gifts at all.

  As he got an arm under Keanin, Storm noticed that Keanin’s face was going gray. His breath was coming in ragged gasps, and there was an odd tremor coursing through him. Storm hauled him into Ghortin’s tent.

  Ghortin and Jenna were still stunned, but not nearly as bad off as Keanin. “Ghortin, you’ve got to come out of it.” Storm tried shaking the older man, then finally started slapping him lightly. He wasn’t sure if it was a good idea, but Keanin was slipping into something that looked very much like severe shock.

  Ghortin fought his way to full consciousness, and weakly stopped Storm’s hand in mid-hit. “Easy, I’m here. Someone’s not. In pain. Who?” The words were disjointed, but Storm took solace in the fact that he was talking to him. He’d have to hope that Ghortin could understand him.

  “It’s Keanin. All of the mage-gifted are in the same shape as you and Jenna, but Keanin’s worse.”

  The mastermage’s eyes opened at that. “But he’s not gifted.” He sounded accusatory, as if it was Storm’s fault that this strange thing happened.

  “Don’t get mad at me, I have no idea what happened. But I do know that Keanin’s going into shock and needs help right now.” He pulled Ghortin into a sitting position.

  “How could this have happened? That attack was aimed at mage-gifted individuals.” Ghortin shook his head and winced. Storm had rarely seen Ghortin so physically distressed; it was almost more disturbing than Keanin’s collapse. Jenna mumbled something unintelligible behind him and Storm leaned back to catch her words, then faced Ghortin grimly.

  “She says he is gifted. Something about his family, he didn’t want anyone to know.”

  “Damn his stubbornness,” Ghortin swore. “From what I can tell, this backlash is the residue of a spell cast at a particular individual. A gifted, yet unshielded individual. Him.” He swore to himself under his breath. “Keanin must have been like a welcoming beacon to whoever cast that attack. Worse yet is that it was targeted at him. Whoever cast it knew that Keanin was gifted, despite him being able to hide it even from me.”

  Storm didn’t think Keanin was going to be happy when he recovered; the look on Ghortin’s face wasn’t boding well for the noble once the crisis was over.

  Setting his hands on the sides of Keanin’s angular face, Ghortin put himself into a trance. “I can’t get him to hold on. His lack of training is making his mind too slippery.”

  Jenna pushed Storm aside and laid her hands on Keanin’s head. Storm could hear her murmuring softly and it looked like Keanin’s c
olor was returning. After a few moments, Jenna and Ghortin backed away.

  “Will he be all right?” Storm thought Keanin looked better, but it was hard to tell. Neither Jenna nor Ghortin appeared to be in great shape either.

  “I think so. I don’t understand what happened though.” Jenna rubbed her head.

  Ghortin slid back down to the floor with a sigh. “Someone found a weak spot, that’s what happened. And from what I gathered before they slipped away from Keanin’s mind completely, that someone is waiting for us on the Acaras Plains. I think we go into battle now.”

  37

  “What do you mean, waiting for us?” Storm tore his gaze from Keanin’s pale face. “Was this a trap?”

  Ghortin rubbed his chin as he studied the sleeping noble. “No, I don’t think the attack on Keanin was to set up a trap. The thoughts I caught were improperly shielded; it’s impossible to fake that. But they are waiting. Somehow they knew about Keanin having the magecraft ability, even when I didn’t.” He looked at Storm intently, maybe he had missed something, or perhaps he had been misled. “Rachael didn’t say anything to you two about this, did she?”

  “No,” Jenna said as she picked herself off the ground. “Keanin told me back in Irundail, but he made me swear not to tell anyone. It has to do with the way his parents died, they were working in the Markare when it happened.” She shrugged with a frown. “To be honest, I’d forgotten about it.”

  Ghortin started tapping his fingers. “His parents must have been mages, there’s no other way a group that small could have hoped to set up camp in the Markare. Okay. But how in the seven hells of the abyss did whoever just attacked know that Keanin would act as a transfer?”

  “A what?” Storm and Jenna asked at the same instant.

  Ghortin didn’t want to lose his train of thought, but he tried to answer them clearly. “A transfer. The mage used Keanin to get a spell in under our shields. Fortunately, we were shielded heavily.” He nodded to Jenna. “At least you and I were, and I think we can assume that we were the targets.”

  Pulling back the tent flap, Ghortin stared outside. Darkness would fall within the hour. “We have to be ready to travel quickly tomorrow at first light. Earlier than that if we can. We need to use our knowledge to our advantage.”

  Storm shook his head with a frown. “But we aren’t ready for a battle. Look at the two of you, not to mention Keanin and the rest of our mage-gifted.”

  “That’s why we must do it now. They know where we are. They know we’re coming their direction. They’ll believe that they’ve hurt us enough to slow us down significantly, enough to give their reinforcements that I sensed time to get there. We’ve got to get there before then.” They needed to conserve their energy, not waste it on infighting. “Storm, your father is there with them. I picked up that also.”

  The change in Storm was immediate. His jaw tightened and his hand gripped his sword hilt. “We’ll leave by first light if I have to carry Keanin out of here myself.” He rose to his feet. “I’ll leave him in your hands for now. If you two will excuse me, I’ve troops to ready.” With a curt nod, the prince strode from the tent.

  “Don’t worry, the Storm you know is still in there,” Ghortin said as he leaned over Keanin for another check.

  Jenna turned. “That obvious, eh?”

  Ghortin sat back from Keanin’s sleeping form. By some miracle the noble seemed to have gotten through the attack with his wits intact. Although how many of those wits would still be there when Ghortin finished with him, it was hard to say. No matter how painful it was, Keanin was going to have to be trained; untrained, his gift was a danger to them all.

  “Storm is an odd boy, always has been. But he’s fiercely loyal. He’ll fight through hell and back for a friend or a loved one. In a way, that’s one of his hindrances as a prince—despite the heroic way it makes him look. Extreme devotion sounds romantic in the bard’s tales, but it can hinder a true leader.” He nodded toward the darkening sky visible through the tent flap.

  “You’d better get some sleep. Somehow our hardheaded peacock here made it through the attack. Oh, he’ll have a headache all right, at least until we reach the plains, but he should be fine. I’ll watch him through the night to be certain.”

  Jenna stood inside the tent flap. “How long will it be?”

  She didn’t say what it was she spoke of, but Ghortin knew. “I fear we shall have more trouble on our hands than we want by three night falls from now. Sleep well, it may be the last real sleep you’ll be getting for a while.”

  After two and a half days of hard riding, Edgar and the scouts came back to report an enemy encampment less than an hour’s ride ahead of them. Ghortin held a conference with the mages, while Storm called a halt for a brief rest. They had only been riding for a few hours that morning, but he wanted them completely regrouped and rested before they engaged in battle. From what the scouts had reported, their enemy had about twice as many fighters as they did; and although they weren’t slacking off, they also hadn’t expected their foe to be so close. Surprise would give their troops the edge they needed, if they could marshal themselves into a single fighting force.

  Across the camp, Jenna was losing the battle, but she wasn’t giving in without a fight.

  “Having us in the back is one of the most asinine things I’ve ever heard of.” At a sharp cough by Keanin, she amended her words. “All right, having me in the back is asinine.”

  “Who is going to protect Keanin if we’re all up front?” Ghortin paused in his pacing, but then began a new round. “Should we paint a target on him inviting their mages to have their way with him? Unless he’s well shielded, they could use him to get under our shields again. All of ours.”

  “I think that with you and I both out in the open as targets, their mages aren’t going to have time or energy to go around looking for someone else. You said yourself he’s not as open as before.” A new thought hit her. “Have Frankon guard him. I don’t trust that man, and this way Keanin can keep an eye on him too.” She grabbed hold of Ghortin’s arm. “You know I’ll be more help than him.” She stepped back as Ghortin quickly looked away.

  “Or is that it? You’re afraid I’ll blow it, or blow everyone up; aren’t you?” She admitted to herself that she had similar doubts, but at the same time she knew they needed her, and, more importantly, that she could hold herself together.

  “I know you wouldn’t mean to, but—”

  Edgar cut him off as he joined them. “We’ve no choice. Ghortin, I’m afraid we can’t let someone with Jenna’s abilities hide in the wings. I wouldn’t even let Frankon do it, but I agree with Jenna; there’s something damnably odd about that one.” He sat down and grinned at Keanin. “How’s the head?”

  Even after almost three days, Keanin still complained of a headache. “I keep hoping it will fall off. Makes me almost want to go find the gentlemen and/or ladies who gave this monster headache to me. Almost.”

  Ghortin waggled a finger at the spymaster. “Now I wouldn’t be telling you how to use your spies. You don’t realize what could happen if she has a backlash or loses control out there. She’d not only wipe out herself, but possibly everyone around her.”

  Edgar’s sharp face grew uncharacteristically serious. “No, I can’t imagine that. But I do know what will happen if those mages of theirs get through. Our people won’t stand a chance. We’ve little choice, and we can’t leave without the king.”

  Ghortin resumed his pacing. Jenna could tell he was trying to think of a delaying tactic. The whole concept of her magic wiping out everyone was terrifying, but Edgar was right; the mages they were up against would shred their forces without enough protection.

  Ghortin continued to mutter, but Jenna knew that he also realized Edgar was right.

  An hour later Jenna, Ghortin, and the other ten mages sat atop their horses five hundred yards from the enemy camp. Dispatching the perimeter guards had been ‘disgustingly easy’ according to Edgar. The spymaster was
now circling the exterior of the camp, looking for more prey. The rest of their troops were behind them; Keanin and Frankon were in the rear.

  The plan was simple. The enemy was at the edge of the plains. Two sides ended in steep cliffs that dropped two hundred feet to the ocean. A small group of Crell’s people would charge on foot from the third side, forcing them to run into the main fighting force.

  “Now what are you so worried about?” Ghortin whispered. “We’ve got the advantage; they don’t know we’re here.”

  “I still don’t see how Crell’s people are going to get them running,” she whispered back. She knew he was trying to keep her mind loose. It was minutes until the trap was sprung.

  Ghortin gave a wink. “That’s because you’ve never been on the receiving end of Crell’s fighters.”

  A swarm of that deep green and brown was pouring out from the foothills less than twenty yards from the enemy camp. Shouting filled the air as the scattered enemy ran for their weapons and horses. Ghortin was magically sending words of panic to the poor tethered beasts. Ghortin held his mind control of the horses a second longer, then released it with a grimace.

  “Their mages are faster than I thought. But it won’t help them with their horses.” He nodded toward the mass coming toward them. The enemy was giving no thought to anything other than saving themselves from Crell’s troops. Jenna had to admit that part, at least, was working. She nudged her horse off to the side with Ghortin and the other mages. Then Prince Corin, for that was surely who he was at that moment, led the charge into the fray.

  Storm the brash young hunter was nowhere to be seen as he swept through the outnumbering enemy like an angel of death. At least ten had fallen on his first pass. He and his people had the advantage for the moment. As long as their mages could hold the others at bay, they might stand a chance.

  Instinct took over as one of the few mounted foes blocked his way. The man was scarred, his lean face haggard and deadly. He was kelar, but only one ear tip poked free of his short gray hair. Storm’s innards went cold. The land of Khelaran marked their most violent murderers in such a way. Just before they were drawn and quartered, the tip of their left ear was removed. Storm had a split second to wonder how this man had gotten free before he was engaged.