by Megan Derr
"We met the very same, years and years ago, when we were returning from Petrocia—"
"You've been to Petrocia?" Mahzan cut in, and something in his voice, in the flicker of something that brushed Sule's mind—
Longing, that was what it was. Whatever his complaints about traveling being boring… Mahzan liked it. Sule rolled his eyes. Of course Mahzan liked traveling. He had not yet had a real taste of it, and those who had a good life in the Heart were never satisfied with it. He also wasn't the one who did the hunting or cooking, since he had no idea how to do either. No, that was largely left to Sule and Cemal.
"Yes, though I've not been in some time," Binhadi said, and something that might have almost been a smile curved his mouth briefly. "I was sent abroad with Prince Seda when I was seventeen. We spent four years traveling through Petrocia and a few surrounding smaller countries. Some of them were extremely cold, so cold your breath freezes and you will die within minutes if not properly protected. I do not miss it."
Cemal smiled faintly, in that peculiar way of his that always held a trace of sadness no matter how happy he should be. Sule had never met a priest—a person, at that—so quietly, constantly unhappy. Now he knew two such men. He and Mahzan might snipe at one another constantly, but Cemal and Binhadi seemed to be trying to out-gloom one another.
Mahzan snorted and shot him an amused look. Sule scowled back.
"I was offered a chance to go abroad, once," Cemal said, "but I had no desire to leave Orhanis. Traveling is hard enough here; I had no desire to do it where I did not speak the language or know the customs." He sighed. "Speaking of hard travel, it's only going to get more difficult the further north we go."
"Unfortunately," Sule agreed. "We have a very long and treacherous road to Lirana's Point." His hands tightened on his reins, and his horse moved restlessly beneath him, forcing him to relax. He did not like to think about the fact that in order to get to Lirana's Point, they would likely travel through his old village.
He could not even remember what it looked like, not really, though he remembered his little bed in the loft of his parents' home. His first chore each morning was to build up the fire and put the kettle on. When his mother had first fallen sick, he had made her tea. He had been so certain that if he was good and worked hard and pleased his parents…
Only a child would be so stupid, to think anything could be that simple. Working hard and making tea had not saved his mother's life. Being a good soldier, bringing in plenty of money for his family, saving only the tiniest amount for himself, hadn't been enough. All he'd wanted was to be a good son.
But all they'd been capable of seeing was an abominable, embarrassing daughter they'd finally grown weary of and discarded.
A hand sharply smacked the back of his head, and Sule snarled, jerking up, hand flying to his sword—and then he met Mahzan's gaze. "If you are bored, I am more than happy to teach you the folly of your ways," he hissed.
"Stop being depressing until you can learn to block," Mahzan retorted. "Why are you so gloomy all of a sudden? Leave that for those two. They make a funeral look cheerful, between their combined misery."
Sule laughed at that before he could catch himself, ignoring the looks he could feel Cemal and Binhadi giving them. "It's nothing of import." When Mahzan only continued to watch him, gray eyes holding the faintest of moonlight shimmer, he grunted and said, "I hail from Shimoor Hollow."
"That is along the way to Lirana's Point," Cemal said. "I had no idea you had come from so far north. You have no trace of it in your voice or manner."
"You do not sound like you come from the Outer Isles," Sule replied.
Cemal laughed. "I don't need to sound like it. I'm so white it's impossible to miss. But I am a priest—we are supposed to leave all traces of ourselves behind, to better mold ourselves to serving others in the Great Dragon's name."
"You are molded about as well as he," Sule said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at Mahzan.
"As any of us, for that matter," Mahzan said. "Why are you so unhappy about the idea of returning home?"
Sule's mouth tightened, and he only replied, "My only home is the Heart. Shimoor Hollow ceased to be home a very long time ago."
Cemal opened his mouth to speak, but then a sharp, bright thought cut through Sule's mind, and he could see it had reached Cemal and Binhadi as well. Bandits up ahead. They knew we were coming, had a scout in the wood who spotted us some time ago. I don't know how I missed him. Eight of them, waiting to ambush us by that fallen tree up ahead.
Sule eyed the tree in question. The area was ideal for such an ambush. The road narrowed, curved sharply, and the fallen tree would slow them briefly as they were forced to take their horses over it one at a time.
He looked at Cemal, who met his gaze. Eight against two, with only a shadow mage and an untried mind mage for backup. This was going to be a disaster; they stood some chance only if they could take the element of surprise for themselves. "Eight men," Cemal said. "They'll have two in front to block our way, two more will come from behind, and after they have us pinned, the other four will come out from either side and box us in completely. Very tidy." He half-turned in his saddle and asked, "Mahzan, do they have mages?"
"Yes, but I cannot determine more than that, which means one of them is likely a mind mage," Mahzan replied. "At least two, possibly three, that's the best I can determine. What are we going to do?"
Sule replied sharply, "You are going to stay out of the way. Non-combative mages stay in the rear. Cemal and I will handle it." He wished badly he had just one person he trusted, just one of his soldiers. The only thing worse than an uneven fight was going into it with people he did not know. Eight bandits deep in the woods was the worst place to test the battle-readiness of their little band. He should have thought to test them all before they headed out, and fool him for making such an amateur mistake. Hopefully the error would not cost them lives. No one deserved to die before first blood.
That it was fighting together that had brought them this far didn't really count. That had been scattered and slapdash and hardly worthy of being called a fight. This would be first blood for the rest of them, and it was going to end in disaster.
"Stay out of the way," he reiterated. "Cemal, can you handle the rear attack?" Cemal nodded, green eyes shimmering as he began to focus his power.
"I can help," Binhadi said, sounding amused. "I am no untried mage. We four can handle a few bandits if we work together."
Sule grunted, but before he could reply, they were upon the bend and fallen tree. Two men slipped from the woods and blocked their path, exactly as anticipated. They looked like brutes, scarred and weathered men who had survived the woods this long and had every reason to believe that would not change any time soon.
Only the truly desperate or heartless made a life of stealing from travelers. They were just one more monster in the trees so far as Sule was concerned. He drew his sword and said in the tone of voice that made soldiers jump to obey, "Stand down or die."
In reply, the bandits only laughed—and the eyes of the left-most flashed brilliant silver. An overwhelming sense of panic overtook Sule's mind, and he dropped his sword as his horse succumbed to the same—
Beside him, he only barely noted that Cemal was in the same poor condition.
"Oh, no you don't!" Mahzan snarled, and as suddenly as the panic had struck it was gone, replaced by his own, real emotions—Sule thought they were his, anyway.
Then the panic slammed—was driven back—emotions crashed through him. Sule screamed. He saw the bandits move, saw one of them raise his hand and throw something—
He barely covered his eyes in time as the flash powder struck. His horse reared, threw him off. Sule hit the ground hard, grunting in pain. He heard the scuff of boots and barely rolled away in time as a sword came at him. Getting his feet beneath him, he rose and lunged at the bandit coming after him, sending them both crashing right back down.
Punching the bastard,
Sule yanked the sword away and tossed it out of harm's way, drew a dagger from his boot and plunged it into the bandit's throat. Leaving him to die, he stood and fetched his sword where it lay only a few paces off. He reached it just in time to meet the second bandit who came at him.
Sule met his swing with his own sword, the force of it jarring his arms, making him wince at the maltreatment to his sword. He heard the cries of the others around him, but focused on his own fight. Breaking away, he swung again, springing forward, driving the bandit back.
The bandit stumbled and Sule called up his magic, cast out a burst of flame—
Only to be bathed in steam as fire met water. The steam struck his face, hot and painful, obscuring his vision. Stumbling back, he just barely saw the sword in time to. Bracing on his hands, he kicked out at the bastard's legs, then rose and made for him.
The stones turned ice-slick beneath him, but Sule was prepared now and met ice with fire—and did not stop when he reached the bandit, only increased the heat until the man began to scream. Abruptly killing the fire, Sule plunged his sword into the bastard's chest.
Panting, he turned to take the measure of the whole fight. Binhadi was barely holding off two men, one of them the third mage Mahzan had mentioned—a shaper like Cemal, and the dogs he had made from pure life force would soon win out against the shadows.
Cemal dispatched two more bandits and ran to help Binhadi even as Sule started to do the same. That left only…
"Drop your weapons!" A bandit snarled, grabbing Mahzan just as Sule started to cry a warning. Mahzan's eyes flashed—but then dulled, and Sule could see he was tired.
It probably had something to do with the man at his feet—the mind mage who had tried to make them all panic. He lay on the ground, twitching, as though locked in a seizure. Sule felt ill just looking at him.
He focused on the more immediate problem—Mahzan held hostage by the last remaining bandit, blood trickling from where the tip of the bandit's dagger dug into his throat. Sule gripped his own sword, drew up his power to throw flames when he got a chance, and with a sneer said, "Kill him and you lose your shield."
"Hold your tongue!" the man snarled. "You let me leave. I'll release him when I'm well away."
Sule laughed contemptuously and replied, "You can let him go now and I'll kill you quickly, or I can chase after you and kill you slowly for being bothersome." He gestured with his free hand, keeping the man's attention on him as he saw Binhadi's shadows move. "Come now, let him go—you are dead no matter what, do not anger the Dragon by piling up still more bodies."
The man started to reply, but then saw the shadows. He froze for a moment—then turned and bolted, dragging Mahzan by the hair with him, vanishing into the dark of the woods.
"Dragon consume them all!" Sule burst out, and bolted after them. He did not know what would happen if one in the Oath died, and he had no plans to find out.
And after causing this trouble, the pleasure of killing Mahzan belonged to him alone.
Sule chased them through the woods, moving as quickly as he dared, annoyed that somehow two men—one panicked, the other reluctant—managed to stay ahead of him. Then again, the bandit no doubt knew these woods. Sule was going to break his own fool neck running so recklessly—
Abruptly the trees ended, and he spilled into a clearing. Something about it bothered him, but Sule put that problem aside for late and focused on the two people close to the center of it. He increased his pace, almost upon them when Mahzan suddenly broke free of his captor. But he only got perhaps two paces before the man struck out, catching Mahzan on the back of the head, sending him falling to the ground, out cold.
The bandit bolted, and Sule increased his pace, lungs and muscles burning. He gave one last burst as he got close, lunging and tackling the bastard to the ground. They went down so hard for a moment he could not move or breath.
Just as he regained both abilities, he heard the ominous, unexpected sound of wood creaking—cracking—breaking—
They fell down and down, so sudden and quickly that Sule could only let go of the bandit to scrabble uselessly at dirt and rock. The stop came as suddenly as the fall, accompanied by a sickening, cracking sound and a flood of overwhelming pain.
He threw up as the pain got the better of him, then rested his head against—something—and tried to just focus on his breathing and getting past the pain. His arm was broken, badly. That meant he could not climb out. Sule swallowed and fought panic. Focus. He looked up and saw the opening through which they had fallen, circular and very far away.
A well, likely, long dried and abandoned. It would seem his father had been right about wall-less villages in the woods. Making a face, Sule started to call up his fire—but then realized that would consume all the air, and he was not certain there was much to spare.
That somehow reminded him that he was not alone in the well. He fumbled in the dark with his good hand as best he could; it took only moments to determine that he was sitting on a corpse. Likely landing on the bandit had saved his own life.
So he could die a slow and painful death. The panic creeped up again, and Sule struggled against it. He had not come this far to die in such a terrible way—
You're not going to die.
Sule jerked, startled to hear the words so clearly in his head. Mahzan might have been standing next to him, for their clarity.
What's wrong? Mahzan asked.
Could he think the words back? Mind reading was not something mind mages typically did—most could either manipulate emotion or move objects with their mind. So much power, wasted on a fool, but recalling the way the bandit had used his emotion reading… "My arm," he finally said, realizing pain was making his thoughts wander. "It's broken. I thought you were unconscious."
He stunned me, Mahzan replied. I'll get you out of there, but you have to hold still and not flail about because it's exceptionally hard to lift a person so far and without being able to see. Tell me if something is going wrong.
"Hard to lift—fires!" Sule exclaimed, only barely remembering not to move as he suddenly rose off the bottom of the well.
It was wondrous and terrifying. He had never known a mind mage to lift people, though of course he knew it could be done. He had certainly never been moved by a mind mage. As he rose out of the well, he nearly wept with relief. He was grateful and relieved and never wanted to go through that again.
"You and me both," Mahzan said, face pale and beaded with sweat. Dried blood coated his throat, and Sule bet that no matter what he said about only being stunned, there was a painful lump on the back of his head. He knelt at the edge of the well, looking like he had probably collapsed there more than anything.
He slowly lowered Sule to the ground next to him, and they sat slumped against each other. "Your arm is in bad shape," Mahzan said after a moment.
"Yes, I'm aware," Sule bit out as the pain he had forgotten in the wonder of being lifted out of the well returned with a rush. "Next time, when I tell you to stay out of the way, stay out of the way."
"Dragon eat your balls," Mahzan said tiredly. "I tried to, but then that fires-damned mage induced panic, and I got locked into it with him—" The words broke off abruptly, and Sule felt a wealth of emotion before Mahzan managed to close it all up.
Sule let it be. They leaned more heavily on each other, Mahzan struggling with consciousness as much as he. Sule tried to think past the pain and exhaustion but fires, it just was not working.
Except… he lifted his head slightly as the pain receded. It was there, he thought, but… muffled. He frowned. "You're doing something."
"I can't fix your arm, but I can lessen the agony," Mahzan said, head resting on Sule's good shoulder, eyes closed. "Feeling it is largely in the mind, and I can bank that enough for it not to get the best of you. Just—be careful. Only the pain is gone, not the reason for it."
Sule grunted.
"We will have to make it back on our own," Mahzan continued. "I could not see well en
ough as I was being dragged along to guide…" he trailed off as realization dawned, mouth set in a grim line. "I can't guide the other two here, and of course that means I can't guide us back either. Fires burn everything."
Sule grunted again, not quite able to form the words to say that they had probably left a very obvious trail and their only real problem was going to be the beasts that had no doubt already smelled their blood. "I really hate you."
"The feeling is entirely mutual," Mahzan said, not bothering to stir from Sule's shoulder when he replied.
He was in sore need of a bath, but to be fair, so was Sule. Perhaps he had hit his head in the well, the way his thoughts were meandering and growing increasingly stupid.
"You're always that stupid, and you need a bath more than me," Mahzan said.
Sule scowled. "Get out of my head, you aggravating fool, and Dragon eat your balls."
He tensed at the sound of something coming through the trees behind them, fumbled for the dagger that was hopefully still in his left boot. Relief flooded him as he felt it, and he shrugged Mahzan off, ignoring his irritated grumbling—
And stopped short when he saw Binhadi and Cemal walking toward them like a matched set of gloomy thunderclouds. As the pair reached them, Binhadi said, "Thankfully, you did leave a very obvious trail to follow—not that you deserve to be found, for being so reckless and stupid."
"I missed your dulcet voice and loving words, my lord," Mahzan replied. "Here I was beginning to fear that never again would they grace my ears."
The unexpected words made Sule laugh, though he bit it off immediately as the movement jarred his arm and caused the pain to flare up before Mahzan could control it.
Binhadi ignored them as he knelt and examined Sule's arm. "You need a healer."
Sule tried to sneer and make a crack about stating the obvious, but the pain came rushing back suddenly as Cemal knelt and began to dress his arm. "You are lucky you did not bleed out, you fire-addled halfwit. There—that is the best I can do. Try not to do anything stupid. Binhadi is right, though: you need a healer if you ever want to use that arm again."
