by Ron Collins
… now you must take …
He was too weak to deny his hunger, too weak to stop himself as he reached out for Will.
But the boy understood instinctively what others could not grasp, and he scuttled away on all fours, tumbling into the brush at the periphery of Garrick’s vision.
Good boy, Garrick thought as his hand fell like an iron weight at his side.
“Are you all right?”
The smell of stale pipe tobacco crushed Garrick as another hand drew near. It was Arianna’s father, bending over him.
Garrick wanted to tell the man to go away. Perhaps he even managed a grunt. But his hunger was too strong, and his tongue could not make phrases.
Arianna’s father touched Garrick’s shoulder.
He could not help but to drink, could not stop himself from feeding his need. Life force flowed through him, healing his twisted ankle and healing his burned body. He arched his back, drinking in deeply. Then he stood and reached for Arianna’s brothers.
In an instant their energy, too, flooded into him.
Then came more. The lives of Lectodinina mages burned as he inhaled them all.
A horrified scream came from the house.
Garrick turned, sensing even more souls. He moved without conscious thought.
Candlelight from the doorway illuminated Arianna’s face. Her life force was pure and full, flavored with the familiar scent of strawberry. Her mother stood behind her, her essence robust and warm like the bread she had so often baked.
Take them, his hunger said in an intoxicated rush.
And take them he did, understanding the foul extent of his actions even as he performed them.
There is more, the hunger called.
From inside the house, Garrick sensed the pull of Shayla, Arianna’s youngest sister. He clomped through the doorway, struggling against himself with each step. The girl sat on her bed, her expression curious in the dim candlelight.
Take her! The voice inside him cried.
He reached for Shayla, fingers outstretched and yearning. He clenched his eyes and set his jaw. His fists became tight balls.
“No,” he groaned, and pulled himself away. “No.”
Slowly, his rage subsided, and his breathing came into control. Slowly, his surroundings came back into focus.
He turned and ran outside.
The bodies of Arianna and her mother were mere lumps on the porch, her father and brothers a short distance away.
Will sobbed in the distance.
The boy was kneeling beside Kalomar, resting his hand on the horse’s flanks.
“Come on, boy,” he said in a tiny voice. “You can do it. Get up, boy.”
Garrick’s heart twisted.
Kalomar was badly burned. Blood glistened from his flank, and a hole as big around as Garrick’s fist was burned into the thick muscles of the animal’s chest, the same muscles Garrick had marveled at as Kalomar had climbed mountain passes, the same muscles that had flowed so fluidly under him as the horse had carried him across the dry desert of Arderveer.
The animal’s proud eyes were still open, but his heart lay motionless inside his chest. Kalomar’s ears were pinned back, though—even in death, nothing could stop him from getting where he was planning to go.
“Can you save him?” Will asked.
His small hand gripped Garrick’s arm with firm desperation.
“Save him, Garrick, sir. Save him.”
Garrick kneeled down to lay a hand on Kalomar’s shoulder. He shook his head.
“It’s too late,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
Will threw himself on top of the horse and cried.
“What have I done?” Garrick said. “What have I done?”
“I’ll tell you what you’ve done,” a female voice said.
Sunathri stepped from the forest, a thin sword hanging from her hip and a group of Freeborn behind her.
“You’ve just destroyed the most powerful collection of Lectodinian mages to the east of the desert.”
Epilogue
Garrick sat alone on a granite boulder in a secluded glade.
To the rest of the world, the morning dawned blue and fresh. Across the glade, a patch of clover was green in the blazing sun. Birds called and fresh breeze rustled through trees. The aroma of wild boar roasting on the Freeborn’s spit wafted from the distance.
But for Garrick there was only pain, remorse, and the sense of loss he felt with every turn of the life force inside him. The feather thin touch of Arianna’s essence seeped through that pool to brush against his chest. She would dissipate soon. Then she would be gone like all the others. He had destroyed her—as he had destroyed her family—yet now she flowed inside him, so coyly yet so clearly there, reminding him of what a beast he was. But, despite the pain his actions brought him, the life energy also flowed with such strength that he could not deny the glory of the day around him.
It was all such a terrible confusion.
Darien came across the clearing to sit beside him.
“I cannot live like this,” Garrick finally said. The words were like bones in his throat.
“I understand.”
“You can’t possibly understand.”
“It was outside your control.”
“You’re not helping.”
Sunathri came to the conversation, sitting to Garrick’s left.
“It will come,” she said. “Your control. It will come.”
“You don’t see their faces,” Garrick replied, shaking his head. “You don’t feel their lives as you rip them …”
“You spared the young girl.”
“And what a gift I have left for her, eh?”
Sunathri placed her hand on his shoulder. Her touch drew at his life force.
He looked at Will, who stood currying a horse in the distance. He would have to find some way to protect the boy.
“You know this isn’t finished,” he said. “Elman is dead, but the orders will hunt me until it’s over.”
“Yes, they will,” Darien replied.
“I’m going to stop this now.”
Darien and Sunathri exchanged hesitant glances.
“What are you saying?” Sunathri said.
“I’m saying I’ll not be made a pawn any longer. The planewalkers cannot get away with this. Braxidane cannot make me do this. The orders have god-touched mages. I’m going to confront them. I’m going to end this one way or the other. I’m going to find them, now.”
“Don’t be stupid, Garrick,” Darien replied.
“Stupid or not, this needs to happen. This is killing me.”
“A direct confrontation is not as bad of an idea as it might sound,” Sunathri said.
“You can’t be serious.” Darien said.
“Yes, I am. If Garrick can control the confrontation, he might be better off than if he lets the orders set the table. The bigger problem, though, is that I don’t think Garrick can get either of their god-touched mages to go anywhere without their armies.”
“Like that makes a difference,” Darien said.
“It means Garrick needs an army to make his idea happen.”
They sat in silence.
“What’s your plan, Garrick?” Sunathri said.
“Holy gods, woman,” Darien replied. “His plan? His plan? Are you listening to yourself? This is Garrick. He has no plan. I mean, beyond calling out to the orders so he can fall on his sword. It’s not happening. Garrick is not facing either of the other god-touched mages one-on-one.”
“Actually,” Garrick said. “I need to face them both at the same time.”
Darien threw himself backward on the grass, spreading his arms out wide.
“First we can’t get you to join us, and now you’re off the cliff and talking about combating every mage on the plane at once.”
“They don’t work well together, Darien. Their approaches are different. Each time I’ve encountered mixed groups their whole has been less than the sum of their par
ts. On the other hand, Elman had only Lectodinians in his party, and he nearly destroyed me. I think I stand a better chance one on two than I do if I address them alone.”
“All right,” Sunathri said again. “What’s your plan, Garrick?” Then, clearly interjecting before Darien could reply, “How do you intend to neutralize their god-touched?”
He surprised himself by laughing. He didn’t expect Sunathri to treat his plan with such earnest thought.
“I have no idea, but I expect I’ll have to draw them out.”
“See?” Darien replied, sitting up again.
“We’ll definitely want to control the time and place of the meeting,” Sunathri said.
“It’s too risky,” Darien said.
“What isn’t?” Sunathri replied. “I say we stop complaining about it and set to helping our friend.”
“I’m sorry, Suni,” Garrick said. “Darien’s right. I can’t join the Freeborn.”
Sunathri chuckled.
“I really am sorry,” Garrick said.
“Don’t mistake my laughter, Garrick,” Sunathri said. “I’m not asking you to join the Freeborn. I’m saying that if you won’t join us, we’ll join you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“We’ve worked too hard to fail now. You mean everything to this House. You don’t have to accept us for us to accept you.”
“I’m not telling anyone what to do.”
“I’m giving the directions, so you’re only taking command if you don’t let us help you.”
Then it was Garrick’s turn to chuckle. “I’m speechless.”
“That’s not exactly a first,” Darien said.
“The Freeborn is not an army, though,” Sunathri said. “We can’t stand up against two full armies of mercenary men enriched with god-touched wizardry. We’ll need help.”
She stared at Darien.
“Can you convince your father to support Dorfort joining the fight?”
Darien cleared his throat. “I don’t know.”
“Darien has not spoken to his father in some time,” Garrick said.
Sunathri simply stared at him.
“I can try,” Darien finally said.
“It’s all we can ask,” Sunathri replied.
She ran her hand through her thick hair and looked at Garrick. “I think we can name the time and place of your clash—as long as the orders are as serious about getting rid of you as they appear to be.”
“How?” Garrick asked.
“You offer yourself as bait—challenge them to a duel neither can turn down without losing face.”
“I can see that,” Garrick said. “And we choose a place where the god-touched mages have to leave their armies.”
“Exactly.”
Sunathri’s eyes burned with eagerness.
“It could work,” Garrick replied.
“Is there such a place?” Darien said.
“Yes,” Garrick said. “There is.”
Both Sunathri and Darien looked at him.
“God’s Tower.”
Silence filled the moment.
God’s Tower was a solitary snow-capped mountain peak to the south of the Desert of Dust. If legend was true it was the location of the failed council of wizardry that had resulted in the very birth of the orders.
“It’s perfect,” Sunathri finally said.
Darien raised an eyebrow in contemplation.
“The surrounding land would make it difficult for the orders’ armies to maneuver. And the tower itself could defend one flank.”
“I see just one problem,” Garrick said. “How do we contact the orders to make this challenge?”
Sunathri gave a smile. “Leave that to me.”
The three paused, and a lightness of being rose inside Garrick. Where once there was nothing, now he saw the outline of a true plan. Where once he felt hopeless, now he felt a camaraderie that he had never felt before.
Darien would work to gather Dorfort’s army, Sunathri would wield the Freeborn with her normal aplomb, and Garrick … Garrick would look the orders’ god-touched mages in the eye.
He was no longer a mere apprentice. He was Garrick, god-touched mage of Braxidane.
This would end here.
Sunathri stood up and smoothed her pant leg.
“I think it’s time you addressed the Freeborn directly,” she said. “I’ll let them know what we are doing, but they will appreciate hearing from you.”
Garrick nodded. “I think you’re right.”
He looked at his friends.
He wasn’t alone.
It felt strange. It felt different.
Yes, he thought as both he and Darien stood up. A man has a place he’s given, and a place he belongs. Sometimes they’re even the same thing.
* * * * *
This is the end of Target of the Orders, but the story of Garrick, Sunathri, Darien, and the struggle between the orders continues in Gathering of the God-Touched, due to be published December 2014!
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The Saga of the God-Touched Mage includes:
Glamour of the God-Touched
Trail of the Torean
Target of the Orders
Gathering of the God-Touched
Pawn of the Planewalker
Changing of the Guard
Lord of the Freeborn
Lords of Existence
APPENDIX
* * * * *
Map of the Plane of Adruin
image by Ron Collins
Acknowledgements
The universe of Adruin and All of Existence has many people to thank for its existence, not the least of which are Tim Brown, Mike Cox, Ken and Jackie Peters, and my wife, Lisa.
I need to single out a few others for their efforts beyond all the rest.
My friend, collaborator, and pre-reader John Bodin’s help was—as always—superlative. I want to thank my daughter, Brigid, for stepping into the fray when I needed her. And I want to give thanks to my cover artist, Rachel Carpenter, who was great fun to work with and who did a fantastic job bringing Garrick to life.
Mostly, though, I have to thank Lisa for everything she’s done for me. Saga of the God-Touched Mage has gone through more twists and turns than I could ever have predicted when the idea first hit, and she’s been with me through every step. (Don’t worry, honey. It’s really done. Really, I mean it. It’s done. You don’t have to read it for the 111th time!).
About Ron Collins
Ron Collins is an award-winning author who lives in Columbus, Indiana, with his wife, Lisa.
Target of the Orders is the third volume in the eight-part Saga of the God-Touched Mage. Ron published Five Magics, a collection of his short fantasy, in 2012. Five Magics includes two tales from Dragon Magazine, a Marion Zimmer Bradley’s FANTASY MAGAZINE Cauldron Award winning story, and another tale that was awarded Honorable Mention in Ellen Datlow and Terri Windling's “Years Best Fantasy.”
Ron is the author of two road trip, alternate-history, fantasy, science fiction baseball novels, the first being See the PEBA on $25 a Day (2010), and the sequel being Chasing the Setting Sun (2014).
He has contributed numerous short stories to professional science fiction publications including Analog, Asimov’s, and Nature. His writing has received a Writers of the Future prize, and a CompuServe HOMer Award. He holds a degree in Mechanical Engineering, and worked developing avionics systems, electronics, and information technology before spending a decade in Human Resource management.
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The Saga of the God-Touched Mage includes:
Glamour of the God-Touched
Trail of the Torean
Target of the Orders
Gathering of the God-Touched
Pawn of the Planewalker
Changing of the Guard
Lord of the Freeborn
Lords of Existence
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