Trail of the Gods ms-4

by Brian S. Pratt

  The wind begins to pick up, fanning the flames toward them. James calls forth the magic to combat the flames when the tingling sensation once more spikes as another fireball arcs toward them. Changing tactics, he again creates another barrier which causes the fireball to once more explode in mid-air.

  “James!” he hears Jiron call to him. Glancing back, he sees that Jiron and Aleya have already moved further west. Sitting there on his horse, Jiron motions for him to follow. Turning his horse, James kicks it into a gallop just as the tingling sensation once more spikes. Groaning, he glances behind him and through the waves of heat the flaming grass is emitting, he sees yet another fireball arcing toward them.

  Sending forth the magic, he again detonates the fireball before it has a chance to close the distance.

  “You okay?” shouts Jiron as he and Aleya kick their horses into a gallop.

  Shaking his head, James replies, “Not really.” Racing along the fringe of the fire, he begins to feel a gradual increase in the tingling. Suddenly, the speed of the wind increases rapidly as it begins whipping the fire into a roaring inferno directly at them.

  A flaming stalk of grass which had been picked up by the wind strikes Aleya on the shoulder, sparks fly as she cries out from the burns. Flailing her arms wildly, she gets the burning brand off her but not before it ignites her long hair.

  Jiron spies her predicament and brings his horse close where he uses his hand to put out the flames which had begun consuming her hair. When the fire is out only a small portion of her hair had been singed by the fire.

  “Thanks,” she says.

  “Welcome!” he shouts back to her over the roaring of the fire pursuing them. Glancing back behind them to where James is following, he sees him beginning to secure himself in the saddle with a rope which had been coiled on the saddle.

  All of a sudden, they break out from the fire line and Jiron turns them due north as they race around the edge of the fire, putting it between them and their pursuers.

  The wind changes course with an increase in the tingling sensation as the pursuing mage tries to alter the course of the wind to redirect the fire to stop them.

  Jiron slows slightly to allow James to catch up. When he does, he says to Jiron, “You know what to do?” Jiron nods in reply.

  To Aleya, James says, “Whatever happens, stay with Jiron.” When he sees her nod, he continues, “If we should get separated, we’ll meet at the first inn, an hour’s ride north of Kern. Wait there a day, then head up to Trendle. Find a Forest Warden there by the name of Ceryn and let him know what happened. Got that?”

  She again nods her head. “What are you going to do?” She asks, a touch of fear in her voice. Whether it’s from what he might do or those pursuing them is hard to tell.

  “Just do it!” he yells at her then closes his eyes.

  She glances to Jiron who looks at her grimly and shrugs. “Don’t ask me,” he tells her. “But whatever he’s about to do won’t be pretty.”

  Swallowing hard she looks ahead of them and gasps. Arrayed across the field a mile before them, situated between them and Kern, are hundreds of soldiers, both mounted and foot. Another several hundred archers are positioned behind them.

  “Oh my god!” she cries.

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Summoning the magic, James wrestles for control of the wind. His adversary is very strong, but like him, has already used most of his magic reserves in the battle thus far. In his mind’s eye, it almost seems like a tug of war as the winds are pulled first one way then another. They’re both evenly matched, neither able to take complete control from the other.

  “James!” he hears Jiron exclaim. Opening his eyes a fraction, he sees the men arrayed before them. Damn! Closing his eyes once more, he abruptly changes tactics.

  From the tales he’s heard of this mage he was at first worried about meeting him head to head. True, he was a mage of some power in his own right, trained by the Empire’s greatest living masters. When as a boy he had been tested along with others whom they felt had real potential, he was the only one to be selected for their School of the Arcane.

  He first came to hear of this rogue mage when Zythun had been killed in the cataclysmic explosion at the City of Light. Not only killing him but taking out a good third of the forces which had been sent with him.

  Then several more of their brethren had perished in duels with this man, leaving only a handful of full Adepts left in the Empire. The others he can understand him besting, they were not as powerful as Zythun had been, but Zythun? He was one of the most powerful and skilled of all the Adepts. Only a few could claim to be better.

  So when he first felt the rogue mage on the plains of Kern, he felt dread come over him, as if his doom was nigh. He didn’t expect to live through the encounter as he rode out to keep him from reaching the protection of the Cardri army. Yet, the rogue mage has done nothing he’s been unable to counter. In fact, he seems to be getting the better of him in the struggle for the winds.

  Pushing the winds toward the mage, driving the fire to consume him, he can feel the force of the mage’s power begin dwindling, as if he’s already used too much of his inner power. Encouraged, he continues attempting to wrest total control of the winds from this upstart.

  Sudden movement from the flames ahead of him catches his eye and he slows his horse. Pausing not ten feet from the inferno, he scans the flames ahead of him. Something’s odd about the flames, though he can’t quite put his finger on it.

  Suddenly, lurching out of the flames toward him, walks a six foot tall figure of flame. Staggering awkwardly, the fiery figure moves quickly as it closes the distance between them.

  Neighing in fear, his horse rears backward at the fire creature’s approach and knocks him off. Hitting the ground hard, the mage lands on his leg at the wrong angle and the bone snaps. The pain breaks his concentration and he feels the rogue mage wrest complete control of the winds.

  Looking up from his position on the ground, he sees the lumbering figure of fire coming for him. Crying out from pain as the fiery figure’s hand touches him, he tries to scoot backward in a vain attempt at escape. But the fire continues up his arm until he’s engulfed in a fiery embrace and his screams echo across the plains as the flames consume him.

  Keeping his eyes closed, pain erupting from behind his forehead from creating and maintaining the fire creature, he tries to stay on this side of consciousness. With the mage’s death, he’s now in total control of the winds. Struggling against the pain which threatens to break his concentration, he directs the winds to push the fire back toward the Empire’s approaching troops. He can feel more than see them beat a hasty retreat as the fire changes directions and moves rapidly toward them.

  Opening his eyes a fraction, he sees Jiron and Aleya slightly ahead of him riding fast toward the line of Cardri troops. Archers are putting arrows to string and the pikemen in the front line lower their pikes, forming an impenetrable wall of death.

  James slows his horse and when the others take notice, they slow theirs as well. Still in control of the winds, he increases their velocity between them and the soldiers.

  “They’re Cardri’s!” Aleya yells at him. “The forces from Kern!”

  Nodding that he understands, he again closes his eyes and concentrates. Sweat is pouring down his face as he pushes the winds into ever greater ferocity. Heart thumping wildly, he wonders just how much more he’ll be able to do. Hopefully, enough to see them through.

  “What’s going on!” hollers Aleya.

  Beginning to recognize what James is doing, Jiron pulls a cloth out of his back and begins wrapping it around his face. “Cover your face!” he yells to her.

  “What?” she yells back.

  “Cover your face!” he repeats as he ties the cloth into place.

  The wind continues to increase in intensity and dirt begins stinging her face as it’s whipped off the ground by the wind. Understanding finally dawns on her, she pulls a piece of cloth
from her pack and wraps it around her face as well. She glances back to James and can see he’s still in deep concentration, Jiron has the reins to his horse in hand.

  “Now!” yells James, his voice cracking from the exertion of trying to bend the winds to his will. The air between them and the lines is all but occluded by the amount of dust and dirt being picked up by the winds.

  Turning to Aleya, Jiron yells over the roar of the wind, “Let’s go!” Getting his horse in motion, he begins moving to the left flank of Cardri’s lines in the hopes of bypassing them without being seen. As they go, the air continues to increase in density as the wind keeps slamming into the ground, drawing more and more dust into the air. In just a few more moments, the lines of Cardri’s soldiers can no longer be seen.

  “Hurry!” James tells them, barely heard over the wind. “Can’t hold this much longer.”

  Breaking into a gallop, Jiron continues to lead them toward where he believes the flank of Cardri’s forces to be. The dust in the air is providing them ample cover in which to hide and be able to sneak across the lines unseen. When he believes he’s passed their flank, he turns them due west.

  Suddenly before them, the line of Cardri soldiers appears out of the storm. He’d miscalculated and had brought them directly into their lines. The men have their faces covered in order to protect their eyes from the flying dirt and fail to see them as they appear out of the storm.

  Unable to stop, Jiron plows right into their lines. Men cry out and swords flash. Keeping tight hold to the reins of James’ horse, he continues forging his way quickly through their lines. With the flying dust adding to the confusion of just what is happening, he’s able to bring himself and James past the first group of men quickly.

  A space of ten feet separates the footmen he just went through and the archers positioned behind them. Not having any choice, he continues on through their lines as well, knocking archers to the ground, all the while praying he doesn’t do any a serious injury. He realizes he can’t stop to see about their well being, he’d be taken for an attacker for sure.

  The storm continues to rage, the dust now so thick he can’t even see the end of his horse’s nose. He finally realizes that he’s past the archers when after a minute’s further riding, he no longer comes into contact with any.

  He slows to a stop and pulls James’ horse close. “We’re through,” he hollers. “You can stop now!” Whether James heard him or not is hard to tell, he’s slumped over in his saddle and is making no indication that he’s even alive let alone heard him.

  Looking around quickly, he realizes Aleya is no longer with them. They must’ve been separated when going through the lines. “Aleya!” he yells but her name is lost in the roar of the storm.

  Getting them moving, he just hopes she remembers to meet them at the inn like James had suggested. At the time he thought it was odd that he suggested that, he never did that before. Maybe he had already known what he was going to do when he said it.

  The storm begins to subside and he picks up their speed as the ground before them becomes more distinct. Off to their right, the wall of the fortress is a dim shadow in the still swirling dust storm. Shapes can be seen moving around the area and he kicks his horse into a faster gallop in order to clear the area before the storm completely dies. Once he finds the north road on the far side of Kern, he breaks into a fast gallop and quickly puts it behind them.

  When the storm had begun in earnest, Aleya had been nervous. Never has such a storm developed so quickly. Glancing to James, she just wonders what kind of man he is, that he can control even the winds.

  Following Jiron as he heads along their lines, she’s thankful that he told her to cover her face with the cloth. The continuous peppering by the sand and rocks had begun to sting terribly.

  As the storm rages in intensity, it becomes increasingly difficult to keep Jiron in sight. She finally has to ride with her horse just scant inches behind his to keep from losing him in the storm.

  Then suddenly, they’re among the troops from Kern. Her horse is struck by a pike and she’s thrown to the ground, landing among the troops. Only the severity of the storm allows her to not be readily noticed by them. Getting up, all she can see around her are the indistinct forms of the soldiers. Jiron and James are nowhere to be seen.

  Cries and shouts from the men around her are blown upon the wind, their meanings lost. Realizing she’s got to get out of there, she begins forcing her way through the lines.

  A soldier suddenly appears before her, an officer by his uniform. “Back in line soldier!” he yells at her. The cloth over her face hides her features so well, he believes she’s one of his own troops. As she comes to within a foot of the officer, she acts like she’s stumbled. When he comes to help her, she lashes out with her shoulder and knocks him off balance and into the surrounding men.

  Crying out, the officer stumbles backward as she races past. Behind her, the officer as well as his shouting, soon disappears in the roar of the storm. Moving quickly, she makes her way through the now disorganized lines. The storm has certainly reduced the moral of the troops, she can hear words of fear and dread coming from those she’s making her way through.

  Suddenly, one young soldier grabs her and cries, “What’s happening?” Fear evident in the young man’s voice. Hating to do it to someone as terrified as him, she quickly disengages herself from his grip and shoves him backward away from her.

  Moving past another soldier, she finds herself in the space between the footmen and the bowmen. It’s at this time the storm begins to subside and the visibility gradually improves.

  “You!” a shout breaks through the storm behind her. She turns around and another officer stands staring straight at her. Fear at being found out immobilizes her as she stares into his eyes.

  The officer then points to the squad of bowmen behind her and orders, “Get back in line!”

  The bow on her back must make him believe she’s one of his troops. With the visibility improving, there’s little chance of her succeeding in bulling her way through the archers as she had with the footmen. So she moves and takes position in line with the other archers, praying that she will not be found out.

  Glancing around, she finds that she’s in the fore of a squad of twenty archers, one of ten such squads positioned behind the footmen to offer support should that become necessary. As the storm subsides, she looks around for Jiron and James but they’re nowhere to be found. They must’ve made it through!

  From before them, a horn sounds and the officer in charge of their squad hollers, “Ready bows!”

  The other archers remove their bows from behind their backs and put arrows to string as they await the command to aim. Aleya follows suit. Standing there with her sole remaining arrow to string she tries to discover what’s happening.

  From the south the forces of the Empire approach their lines, stopping a hundred yards away. Leaders from both sides ride out, meeting for a parley in the middle. Whatever is said between them, she’s much too far away to be able to hear. But she has a fairly good idea what they’re talking about.

  “We’re in for it now,” she hears one man next to her mumble.

  The leaders stay out there for a good ten minutes before each turns about and heads back to their lines. When the Cardri general reaches the fore of his men, he stops and turns back around to face the Empire.

  “What’s going on?” one archer asks.

  “Quiet!” yells their officer as he glares back to them to search for the one who spoke. When they all remain quiet, he turns his attention back to the front.

  The two lines face off with each other, neither one doing anything to provoke the other. Unable to get a good view of what’s exactly going on due to the foot soldiers in her way, she waits silently and tries to figure a way out of there.

  From ahead of her, the foot soldiers begin muttering and some even gasp. Through the gaps between them, she sees the lines of the Empire’s forces opening up and a large man i
n dark armor emerges from between them. Riding forward, he moves toward the Cardri lines. The Cardri general and his retinue begin moving to meet him in the middle.

  The sight of the man in armor sends a shiver coursing through her, though she can’t really explain why. Just looking at him causes her anxiety to increase.

  When the two parties meet, the brief glimpses she’s able to see through the lines ahead of her show both sides are arguing with the other. From what she’s able to see, it looks like the man in armor wishes to move his forces into Cardri territory but the Cardri general is denying his request. There can be only one reason the man in armor wishes entry into Cardri. James!

  The two sides argue for several more minutes before the man in armor turns and moves back to his side. A sigh of relief seems to ripple through the ranks of the Cardri soldiers. Aleya, too, is relieved that conflict may be averted.

  When the man in armor returns to his side, Empire horns begin sounding and their forces begin to withdraw.

  The Cardri general resumes his place at the fore of his men as he watches the Empire’s withdrawal. Once their forces have withdrawn a sufficient distance, the order is given for the Cardri forces to stand down.

  Aleya replaces her arrow in her quiver and slings her bow across her back. Her worry is no longer about the imminent attack from the Empire, but how to extricate herself from the Cardri forces. If found out, it could be just as bad for her here.

  “Form up!” the officer in charge of her squad yells. She comes to attention when she realizes everyone else has. Similar commands resonate up and down the lines as the various officers prepare their squads for the return march to Kern.

  “Left face!” her officer yells again. A little slower than the rest, she turns to her left and waits with the others for their turn to march. Once the squad before them begins to move, her officer yells, “Forward, march!” Half of the Cardri troops remain behind in case the Empire’s forces try anything.