Still, Jason knew how lucky he was that Sel was such a good sport. Even as a child, he had taken something of an impish joy in poking fun of cultural traditions—the more sacred, the better—and his time at the university in Solipei had only emboldened him further. His mother, the free spirit, had found his antics endearing; his father the priest had not. General Moore had spent the bulk of his adult life in the direct service of King Whitestone, after all, and Bound channelers across Torsia, from Alliance priests to Crell Imperators, were the stewards of cultural traditions. Openly mocking their beliefs was generally a surefire way to get yourself exiled, imprisoned, or strung up in the gallows.
Or drive away the woman you love.
Jason winced, and his eyes popped back open. He wasn’t sure where that particular thought had come from, but it felt like someone had just slid a dagger between his ribs. His mind always managed to drift to Sarina whenever he had trouble sleeping, which was incredibly stupid for two very important reasons: one, he hadn’t seen her in almost two years now, not since she had stormed out of that tavern in Dreen; and two, sleeping would have been the absolute last thing on his mind if she had been around right now.
Sighing, he clamped down hard enough on his lip to draw blood. His mind would ramble all night if he let it, and he needed to be rested if he was going to fetch decent prices for whatever they could unload in Selig. It was time to shut up and go to sleep, and that meant he needed to stop thinking altogether, especially about making love to a fiery Asgardian women in the autumn twilight…
A rustle of movement snapped Jason back into the present, and he craned his neck backwards to see Gor clutching onto his bow, his nostrils flared upwards as he sniffed at the night breeze.
“Trouble?”
The chagari’s orange-brown fur rippled slowly. “Possibly.”
“I see nothing,” Selvhara said, her eyes narrowed into thin violet slits. “But I did hear something.”
Nodding silently, Jason glanced out into the forest and surreptitiously scanned the nearby area. They hadn’t seen any humanoid footprints on their way out to the ruins, but the nearby mountains harbored far worse dangers than mere bandits.
“Tam, wake up,” Jason whispered. “Tam!”
When he didn’t respond, Jason reached out and nudged the man’s arm; when he still didn’t respond, Jason smacked his leg hard instead.
“Gods, what?” Tam blurted out. “I told you to shut up and—”
“Keep your voice down,” Jason admonished. “We might have trouble.”
“There’s no trouble, my young friend,” a baritone male voice said from the darkness outside the camp. “At least, there doesn’t have to be.”
Acting on pure instinct, Jason reached out to retrieve his crossbow—and then stopped in mid-air when an arrow whistled past his head and stuck into the ground not four inches from his hand. Before he could even consider rolling away, another warning volley struck their wagon at the rear of the camp.
“There’s no need to panic,” the voice said, and a moment later a humanoid figure emerged from the shadows at the edge of the firelight maybe forty feet away. Two more men joined him shortly thereafter. “I have no interest in killing you, Mr. Moore. I only wish to talk.”
Jason slowly leaned back and studied their assailant. He had a medium build and a clean-shaven face, and his Crell accent was mild enough that most Galvians probably wouldn’t have even noticed. His thick black coat was bulky enough to conceal light armor, and he carried his own small crossbow in his right hand. His two brutish cohorts didn’t bother with anything so subtle; their heavy-armor and double-bladed axes clearly marked them as Borden mercenaries.
“Who are you?” Jason muttered. “What do you want?”
“You may call me Heist, Mr. Moore,” the man said as he casually stepped in closer. At the moment his crossbow wasn’t pointed at anyone directly, but it was only a fractional twitch from becoming so. “I have been sent here to…appropriate some of your recent discoveries. But don’t worry: I have no intention of robbing you blind. Help me find what I’m looking for, and I guarantee you’ll keep enough for yourselves to live quite comfortably.”
“How generous of you,” Jason replied dryly. Beneath the sarcasm, however, a cold tingle had started prickling its way down the length of his spine. Whatever Heist’s real identity, he was calm, poised, and utterly unconcerned about retaliation. That, combined with the fact he and his men had apparently been able to walk right through Sel’s wards, left only one possible explanation.
He was a channeler. Possibly a very powerful one.
“Considering that I could order my men to kill you right now,” Heist went on, “you’re right: I am being very generous. But I would prefer to settle this without violence if at all possible.”
“You have an interesting way of showing it,” Tam muttered, suddenly awake and alert. “If you just wanted to talk, why not approach us in the morning?”
Heist acknowledged Tam with the faintest tilt of his head before turning back to Jason. “Unfortunately, I suspected you wouldn’t be in the mood to talk. The man who hired me thought it was a fool’s errand to even bother speaking with you, but I respectfully disagreed.”
“Really,” Jason mused, mentally running through a list of potential suspects. Considering how few people even know they were out here, it didn’t take very long for everything to fall into place. “So who do you work for, then?”
“A former colleague of yours who believed you were likely to discover many profound and valuable things,” Heist said, waving his hands dramatically. “But I don’t suppose there’s any purpose in being coy.”
“Slaan,” Gor growled under his breath. “He sold us out. I knew he wasn’t to be trusted.”
Heist raised a curious eyebrow at the chagari. “So the beasts can speak, then. Interesting; I had no idea.”
“Perhaps you should get to the point and tell us what you want,” Selvhara suggested, her voice cold. She hadn’t moved at all; she was still sitting cross-legged in front of her little ritual pyre.
Heist flashed a thin but incredibly smug smile. “Very well. As an official representative of the Imperial Province of Galvia, it is within my discretion to confiscate any goods or items that could prove useful to my unit.”
Tam groaned. “Slaan paid off the local guard to steal our loot? That’s a new low, even for him.”
“Your friend is very well connected. But trust me, Mr. Moore, my concern is not primarily for gold. I am just as interested in you. My superiors would be very pleased to have someone with your skills working for them.”
Jason chortled despite himself. “You must not know anything about me if you think that’s a serious offer.”
“Believe me: I’m quite aware of the irony,” Heist said. “You are Jason Moore, son of the infamous Ethan Moore, the Butcher of Geriskhad.”
Selvhara actually flinched, but Jason shot her a warning glare. “So that’s what they’re calling him now,” he murmured. “I doubt you’ll find many Galvians who agree.”
“On the contrary, your people have learned to accept the truth for what it is.” Heist waved a dismissive hand. “But I’m not here about your father; I am here for you. You are a skilled and thoughtful man, and you found something I want. Give it to me, and the rest of the treasure is yours.”
“Fine,” Jason said with an exaggerated shrug. With luck, they wouldn’t notice his right hand snaking down beneath his blanket. “If you tell me what it is, I’m sure I can unpack it for you,” Jason said.
Heist smiled. “You don’t need to unpack anything. It’s right there in the crook of your arm.”
Somehow, Jason managed not to twitch. He thought he had done a good job of casually hiding the pouch away, but evidently not. “You want a half-eaten ration bar? Well sure, don’t let me stop you.”
The man’s smile wilted. “My employer wants that cube, Mr. Moore. And you are going to give it to me.”
The words seemed to ech
o across the camp and directly into Jason’s head. He blinked in confusion and pulled the pouch out in front of him. Maybe he should just give it away. It would certainly save them a lot of trouble…
“Stop it!” Tam hissed, as he quickly sat up. Pillow marks streaked across his face, but his stare was as intense as Jason had ever seen. “That won’t work, not with me around.”
Heist glared at the blond man in annoyance, and Jason frowned as an odd warmth abruptly washed over him. At first he had no idea what was going on, but then he belatedly realized he had felt this sensation before—Heist had been attempting to cloud his mind with magic, and Tam had just stopped him.
Swearing under his breath, Jason shook his head and tried to refocus. He had been just seconds away from handing over the cube without so much as a fight. But while being mentally manipulated was terrifying enough, it also confirmed Heist’s identity. He wasn’t just a random renegade Unbound, as bad as that would have been; he was a Crell Imperator bound to the will of the Sovereigns. And that meant the situation had suddenly gotten a lot more complicated.
“A pity,” Heist whispered, his momentary anger vanishing from his face. “Still, it would seem that our information was accurate after all, especially in regards to the abilities of your companions. An elysian druid, a renegade sorcerer, an unregistered slave…you travel with quite the eclectic entourage, Mr. Moore.”
Gor growled faintly but audibly. Thankfully, he remained still.
“The four of you have lived on the fringes of society for some time now; I imagine that must be quite tiresome,” Heist continued. “I promise that if you cooperate, you will never need to concern yourself with your safety again.”
“If you wanted this so badly, you’d have just shot us on your way in,” Jason pointed out. “Hired Crell goons aren’t known for unnecessary diplomacy. So I figure that means you’re afraid you’ll damage it if you just try to take us out. Is that about right?”
“You are the resource we would prefer not to damage, Mr. Moore,” Heist replied flatly. His right hand finally aimed his crossbow, and his left abruptly flashed with red Aetheric energy. “But my patience does have its limits. Give me the cube…now.”
Jason grimaced. A part of him wanted to hand it over. For all he knew, this cube could have been worthless, and they were sitting atop a massive pile of treasure that would make them filthy rich regardless. But the larger, more stubborn part recognized that this also could have been the find of a lifetime—not in terms of gold, but in terms of history. This cube was an anomaly, and there was no way in the world he was going to let it go before he unlocked its secrets. Not to the bloody Crell, not to anyone. Besides, his friends would back him up—they always did.
“Just give it to him, Jason,” Gor grumbled. “It’s an empty box.”
Jason shot him a look. Tam and Sel would back him up, anyway.
“Last chance, Mr. Moore,” Heist said. The two men next to him tensed, twirling their axes in anticipation. “We have you surrounded and outnumbered. Don’t be foolish.”
“This isn’t worth dying over,” Selvhara whispered.
“I agree, but your friend seems to have a different opinion.”
“He knows how dangerous we are,” she continued, her voice dropping a few degrees. “Do your men even realize what they are up against?”
Heist snorted. “Please. My men have been instructed to shoot at the first sign you’re trying to channel.”
“And what if I don’t give you one?”
His expression sagged in confusion….and in that instant, Sel struck.
A bolt of lightning flashed from her palms and blasted Heist squarely in the chest. He soared backwards, shrieking in pain, and his two goons reeled from the blinding flash. As usual, Gor was ready: he pounced onto the closest mercenary, bowling him into his companion until the three men became a flailing pile of arms, legs, and fur.
The next few seconds were a frantic blur of motion. The air whistled as a barrage of arrows emerged from the darkness to pepper the camp, and Jason tumbled clear of his bedroll mere moments before it became a pincushion. The others weren’t so lucky. Even as Tam vaulted to his feet and attempted to channel, an arrow struck him in the left shoulder, instantly flattening him back to the ground. Two others hit Selvhara, one in the chest and the other near her collarbone.
As a younger man, Jason’s first instinct would have been to dive on top of his friends to give them cover, but years of bloody war followed by dozens and dozens of skirmishes had taught him a grim lesson: either they were already dead, or they would be able to take care of themselves. Regardless, getting shot in the back trying to save them wasn’t going to help anyone. He needed to give their enemies something else to focus on, and that was exactly what he was going to do.
Digging his hands into the ground for leverage, Jason vaulted to his feet and quickly surveyed his options. He could enter the scrap with Gor and hope the archers wouldn’t shoot into a melee filled with their own men, but the chagari seemed to have it covered. Alternatively, he could sprint over and try to hide behind the large tree to his left, but he doubted he’d be able to make it before his legs were perforated.
No, Jason knew had only one real option. He lowered his head and charged straight at Heist.
The man was only just getting back to his feet—a miracle in and of itself considering he had just been struck by lightning—when Jason’s right shoulder plowed squarely into his waist. The two men flew backwards and tumbled across the grass, and by the time their momentum slowed, Jason cocked his left fist for a swift jab.
Heist was faster. A right hook pounded into Jason’s cheek, and he almost lost his grip and toppled backwards onto the grass. But somehow he managed to grab onto Heist’s dark coat and pull himself in tight for cover. Their grapple soon became a desperate melee, with each man landing several glancing blows on the other while they jockeyed for position.
Jason had his doubts about winning a one-on-one slugging match with a stronger, armored man, but the alternative was far worse: if he allowed Heist even a moment to concentrate, the man could probably summon fire or lightning to his fingertips and end this battle right then and there. Jason’s only hope was to keep the Imperator distracted long enough for his companions to bail him out.
Companions who had both already taken hits, and who might already be dead.
***
Pain stabbed through Selvhara’s chest and neck as the arrows pierced her flesh. The sheer force of the impact knocked her flat, and another pair of arrows whistled past her face, missing a killing blow by mere inches. Within seconds, another volley would likely take their place and finish the job.
But she wasn’t about to let that happen. Clenching her teeth against the pain, Selvhara channeled the Aether through her body, and suddenly the entire world around her sharpened—colors became more vibrant, motions became more distinct, and the Aether became a visible bluish mist permeating everything around her. Time itself seemed to slow, as if she now had an eternity to make each and every decision. And she planned to make the most of it.
Jason and Gor had joined a mass of tumbling appendages only a few yards away, but she and Tam were still quite vulnerable. She had wrapped herself in a thin protective barrier at the first sign of trouble earlier, which was probably the only reason she was still alive. Tam hadn’t, however, and he was seriously hurt; she could feel his agony rippling through the Aether from here, and she knew he wouldn’t survive long without swift assistance. What they needed more than anything was a distraction…and she had just the right thing in mind.
Reaching out to the Aether again, Selvhara stirred the air around their campsite into a frantic gale. Leaves, dirt, and rocks leapt up from the ground in a swirling shield of debris, and when the next volley of arrows soared in, they were harmlessly buffeted away.
The hiding archers were invisible, but not inaudible; Selvhara could hear their hissing swears and baffled gasps just fine. Their thoughts and emotions stirr
ed in the Aether, and when she concentrated she could pinpoint them well enough. There were six of them in total, mostly perched up in the trees surrounding the camp, and sooner or later she was going to have to deal with them directly. But right now, she had more pressing concerns.
Leaning down over Tam, she placed a hand against his chest and channeled healing magic into his wounds. He groaned and coughed, then yelped painfully when she ripped the arrowhead free.
“You’re lucky it wasn’t poisoned,” she told him. “Now get up!”
Ignoring her own wounds, Selvhara swiveled back around towards the darkened forest. Her palms crackled with energy as she channeled another spell, but this time she wasn’t planning on blasting anyone with lightning. Instead she formed a large, scintillating sphere of brilliant blue-white light and hurled it out into the center of the forest. The orb itself was harmless, but it was easily bright enough to illuminate the entire battlefield.
With their positions suddenly exposed, the enemy marksman panicked. A few of them hopped down from their trees, while others simply fired into her encroaching wall of coalesced debris in the desperate hope that one of their shots might actually slip through. But the arrows deflected away harmlessly, and then they were out of time.
Snarling in a combination of fury and wounded pride, Tam leapt to his feet and thrust out his hands. His palms exploded in Aetheric flame, and with a flick of his wrist he hurled a fireball towards the closest marksman. The man didn’t stand a chance; the magic scorched his flesh black even as the blast itself hurled him away like an immolated ragdoll. Tam chucked another blast and then another, and soon the entire southern side of the clearing was bathed in a shimmering curtain of flame.
“Enough!” she yelled, grabbing onto his arm. The remaining marksman were already screaming in terror and fleeing into the forest, and killing them served no further purpose.
The Godswar Saga (Omnibus) Page 6
