by Justin Sloan
“Last chance,” he said. “You continue down this path, you’ll find only death and destruction. With us, you can have everything you’ve ever wanted!”
Her voice came out harsh, echoing as she said, “You honestly think I couldn’t just take it?”
“Rhona, don’t!” Alastar shouted, but it was too late.
With a laughter that sounded like it came from ten of her, echoing from some place she didn’t recognize, she spread her arms wide, and the shadows spread out from her. Shadows took her, and she was darting among the remnant and sucking any sign of life from them. The only reason they didn’t get to the sorcerers, too, was that one of them had waved his hands as the others converged on him, and then all were gone, teleported elsewhere.
As the last of the remnant fell, lifeless, Rhona, too, collapsed. She had known it was coming, but didn’t expect the pain that came this time. In an instant, Alastar and Estair were on her, casting healing light and protective charms, but the pain was internal, pushing its way out.
She clenched her fists and heard someone screaming, then registered her nails digging into someone’s hand. Her teeth burned, she was clenching them so hard, and then, with a final prayer from her brother, the feeling was gone.
Only, this time he fell at her side, barely able to hold himself up. Estair looked weak, too, but other warriors quickly came to their aid and helped them to stand.
“Quick,” Estair said, “get us out of here.”
The warriors obeyed, grabbing them under the arms and helping them to run and continue their retreat. They emerged into a field with a large cliff in the distance, a castle at its top, tall hills around to the other side.
But more remnant were on the field, running all out to converge on their position.
“Get us to the castle,” Estair said.
They ran, but it looked hopeless. Using magic, it seemed, took its toll. She wondered if this was it, and her steps began to slow. That is, until a small group of warriors in dark green burst forth from a passage hidden by rocks, and tore through the nearest wave of remnant.
“Go!” Lokane commanded, and turned with his cadre of defenders to take on the next wave.
“You heard him!” Estair shouted, and they ran.
A warrior moved to his side to help them, while a vanguard led the charge, slicing and kicking until their path was clear. They soon reached a rocky ledge, which they climbed onto with ease. They were running along a worn-down street with ruins of buildings that looked to hold some remains of the days before madness, though the fortress was at the end of the path.
New clansmen, dressed in an odd assortment of blues and white, in what looked more like dress uniforms, ran out to greet the new arrivals. Their eyes went black as they formed a line and, as one, pushed out with their hands. It was as if an invisible wall appeared, with many remnant slamming into it and falling back upon themselves.
Rhona and the others passed the blue-clad clansmen, and then the invisible wall blew out, and she realized it had been a strong wind, not a wall at all.
“Stay with me,” Alastar said as he ran alongside Rhona, barely able to keep going, but for their strength, pushed on by the adrenaline pumping through their veins. Donnon had his strength, too, as he rushed to join the two of them with a simple nod.
One last sprint to the gates, and they were almost there before a blast of ice spears rained down on them. A clansman was able to push against the wind, so that the spears missed their mark, but one still pierced Estair in the thigh. She fell with a cry, and Alastar went back for her.
Rhona tried to go back for him, but Donnon grabbed her arm.
“He can fend for himself,” Donnon shouted as he pulled her onward and through the gates.
The rest of the clansmen were joining them behind the gates, while two of them focused on keeping the ice off because, although they were inside the fortress gates, they still weren’t under cover.
“Where’s my brother?” Rhona shouted, spinning around, looking for him. She was about to run back out through the closing gates, when she heard him calling her name. She turned to see him and Estair making their way for the interior keep, and rushed over to join them.
Others joined them as well, and soon, they had the doors shut and secured. The sounds of winds and ice, plus the occasional shout of a remnant or fighter falling could be heard.
Rhona found a seat at the table in the center of the room, and sat, her legs shaking.
“What the hell was that?” a broad-shouldered clansman clad in blue and white demanded as he strode into the room. He looked to Estair first, who was sitting, looking intently at Alastar with wide eyes that seemed to be trying to communicate something that Rhona didn’t understand at first, but as Alastar wasn’t making any attempt to heal the woman, she got the gist. Don’t use any paladin powers here, or it could mean his life.
But the woman was bleeding, so Rhona figured she only had one thing she could do. She stepped forward, mouth open as if to answer, and promptly fainted.
CHAPTER TEN
The room’s attention had suddenly moved to Rhona, so Alastar quickly bowed his head and ran his hand over Estair’s thigh, just briefly, enough to make sure it wasn’t too badly wounded without raising suspicion.
As far as he could tell when he looked up, no one had noticed.
He was ninety percent sure his sister had caused the diversion on purpose, but since he wasn’t completely certain, he now ran to her side to check on her, maneuvering his way through the others.
She opened her eyes with a groan, and Alastar recognized that look in her eyes. Definitely a charade for his benefit. He helped her to stand, but when he turned, the large man in blue and white stood before them.
“And who might these two be?” the man asked.
“They’re with us,” Lokane said. A path cleared to show him standing there, covered in blood, his team behind him. “A special type of guest.”
“Indeed, they would have to be to bring this sort of power against us.”
“Master Garrett,” Estair said, standing feebly. “We apologize, but knew our only chance for survival was to come here. She… has something they want.”
“They?” His eyes narrowed. “The sorcerers of Gallant?”
Estair nodded. “We suspect so. But, they seem to have a teleporter. Why aren’t they in here with us now?”
“That would be us,” Volney said with a wave. “Hello. Larick and Volney, mystics of the Arcadian Valley, at your service.”
Larick had his eyes whited out, but he waved.
“Forgive my colleague,” Volney said. “He’s engaged in blocking the teleporter’s mind from being able to target this fortress with his magic.”
“Does that mean Larick’s power’s stronger?”
“No, which is why we must hurry with the next phase of this plan.” Volney joined the rest to look at Master Garrett, then Lokane, and back again. Nobody seemed certain who would make the call here.
Rhona stepped forward. “I saw one…”
“We all did,” Estair said, looking at her confused.
“No, I mean, the one with the white in his eyes. I had a vision of him.”
“Ah,” Volney stood and approached her, then paused, looking around the room. “Some of you might not yet be aware of the power of mystics, or magic that controls the mind. It can be used in many ways, including, it would seem, tracking down Rhona.”
Rhona gave a half-wave. “That’s me.”
“You’re sure of this?” Estair asked.
Rhona nodded. “I’m definitely Rhona. Oh, and that I saw him? Aye.”
Alastar chuckled. “You always were the type to make dumb jokes when it’s time to be serious.”
She couldn’t deny that, and didn’t want to voice her next concern, but had to know. “It’s when I use magic, isn’t it?”
“What?” the master of the fortress demanded. “What’re you talking about?”
But Volney had a cryptic look on hi
s face, one of confusion mixed with determination. “The only way to get them away from here is if you use magic somewhere else.”
“And since they have a teleporter,” Larick added, “they’d be there in an instant.”
“We could lure them away, in theory. But if they didn’t find her, they’d likely assume it was some sort of a trick and return to attack here.”
“They might do that anyway, simply for harboring her.”
This got the attention of Master Garrett, but after a moment of shock and clenched fists, he noticed everyone looking at him and bellowed out, “What? You think this is the first time the Fortress of Stirling has been under attack? I’d turn over a girl rather than fight?” He laughed a hearty laugh. “Any of you think that, you clearly don’t know Master Garrett or the Stirling Guard.”
A sound that seemed to be half war-cry, half grunt went up from the clansfolk in the room.
“You plan your escape, or whatever the hell you want to do, while me and mine will stage the defense.” He turned to Lokane and waited, one eyebrow raised.
“Deal,” Lokane agreed. “If we can make it to the tunnels and head north, we just might have a shot at—”
“No,” Rhona said, catching even Alastar off-guard.
“Excuse me, no?” Lokane frowned. “What do you mean, no?”
“I mean, my brother has his mission, and I mean to see he achieves it.”
“Whatever mission you think you had no longer seems like the priority here, at least not at the moment.” Lokane gestured to the room. “These people’s lives are at stake as well as your own.”
Alastar stepped up next to his sister. “She’s right. And what we must do now is for the good of all here. We will retrieve the Sword of Light, and be unstoppable.”
“If you use magic, they find you,” Estair said. “So, we must be on the move. We cannot risk them finding us here.”
Alastar assessed the room. These people were fighters, that much was plain. But they were also scared. Whatever forces the sorcerers were playing with, it wasn’t normal. He couldn’t let them fall into harm’s way.
“We’ll be going on our own,” the paladin said.
“Like hell you are!” Estair said. “They want your sister for her magic, and you’d walk out there and give it to them?”
“No, we’d walk out and distract them from this place, and then be on the move. We get the sword, then go after them. Ensure they never hurt anyone ever again.”
“I don’t suppose anyone here knows how to teleport?” Rhona asked.
The rest shook their heads.
Volney looked at his companion, then shook his head. “I’m not surprised. We haven’t heard of anyone being able to do it outside of the Arcadian Valley until now.”
“Here’s a crazy idea,” Rhona said. “Can you project something into another’s mind?”
Volney hesitated, but nodded. “Depending on the power of the other mind.”
“This other mystic, or whatever he is that they have… Could you trick him into believing I was elsewhere using my magic?”
“With the power he seems to have, it’s doubtful,” Volney offered.
“But not impossible,” Larick argued.
“At best, we’d be able to put the image in his mind for a matter of minutes, maybe only seconds.”
“That might be all we’d need,” Alastar said. “If we can divert their attention long enough for the two of us to make a run for it, we can break through their ranks and, by the time they figure it out, be long gone.”
“That’s too great a risk,” Lokane said.
“It might not be.” Rhona held up a hand, focusing, and all light disappeared from it for a moment. “Since the last time I used magic, I’ve felt a change in my body, like I’ve only just learned to breathe. When my magic was put against theirs the last couple of times, mine was superior.”
“It also drained you, and fast,” Alastar pointed out. “If you rely too much on this… power, or whatever you want to call it, how do you know it won’t kill you?”
She shook her head. “It’s part of me, I know that now.”
He knew that look in his sister’s eyes, when she became determined. When she set her mind to something, the only person who had ever been able to talk her out of it had been their mother. Now, he knew there was only one option.
“It’s as my sister says.” Alastar’s face held steady, and the company knew he meant it.
“Then my team and I will lead the charge,” Lokane said. “We’ll have the wind mages give us a head start, and then we’ll get you as far as we can before turning back.”
“Thank you,” Rhona said, nodding.
“You’d let this happen?” Estair demanded of Garrett. “You’d let this poor girl run out into those dangers, when you could protect her in this fortress?”
He frowned at the idea, his eyes roaming over Alastar and Rhona. “First of all, I have families here. We must stop the attack, before they are hurt. I believe this young lady might just be capable of what she says. The power within… I sense it unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. Second, I won’t harbor his kind.” His eyes rested on Alastar. “No fighters of mine will die in defense of a paladin.”
Alastar reached for his sword, but Estair darted over to stand between the two, limping on her injured leg. “What gave him away?”
Garrett laughed. “We’ve been fighting paladins as long as I can remember. You think I don’t recognize that look of contempt in his eyes?”
“I assure you, sir,” Alastar said, “whatever misgivings I may have once held toward your kind are rapidly being replaced by respect and admiration.”
“Unfortunately, I can’t say the same for you.” Garrett dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “If the paladin wants to throw himself to the wolves, so be it. And dammit, Estair, heal your leg already, or let him do it. I’ll not raise arms against him, not under these conditions, so you can all stop pretending.”
“We were all drained after the fight to get here,” she said, but nodded to Alastar. “If you’re feeling up to it.”
He glared at Garrett as he approached her and knelt. Head bowed, he said a quick prayer. When he looked up, the leg was healing and a room full of hate-filled eyes focused on him. They had lost too many of their brothers and sisters over the years to the magic wars to be okay with him being there, performing blessings such as this.
“We go as soon as we can,” he said.
“Let it be so.” Garrett turned to one of his lieutenants and said, “I want them equipped, fully prepared for the journey ahead. Let it not be said that we sent these two to their deaths without preparing them first.”
“Three,” Donnon said.
“Excuse me?”
“I need to return to my clan. I came for a healer, and, it would seem, I have one, if Alastar will come with me.”
“And lead the sorcerers right to your doorstep?” Garrett shook his head. “That’s your funeral you’re asking for.”
“Not if we make it undiscovered. It’s well worth the risk.”
“What could be worth bringing the wrath of these sorcerers down upon your people?”
Donnon gulped, his eyes revealing the fact that he had a difficult time answering that, but with a sideways glance toward Rhona finally said, “It’s my daughter.”
Alastar noted the frown that crossed Rhona’s face, but there was something not adding up that pulled at his attention. “A man’s love for his daughter is strong, I can only imagine. But worth risking the entire clan over?”
“If there was a clan left, that might be a question worth considering,” Donnon replied. “But it’s worse than you think. My little Kia, she… has the black marks.”
“The plague…” Estair took a deep breath. “The clan has abandoned you two?”
“All but two of them, who I fear will have contracted the plague by the time I return. If I don’t have a healer with me, all three will likely die.”
“The
n it’s settled,” Rhona said, answering for all of them.
Alastar nodded. “It’s settled.”
He had heard of this plague spreading throughout the highlands. There was even talk among the Order of Rodrick that it was the Saint sending down punishment on the magic users.
How could he accept that now, though? Now that his sister was one of them, and these people who had risked their lives for theirs were, too?
One thing was clear now—these men and women were no longer his enemy, and if he could repay them for the assistance they had provided, he certainly would.
Garrett nodded to his lieutenant, who had not yet moved, but now scampered off to carry out the order. Next, the large man turned to Alastar and Rhona and said, “If you pull this off, the next time we meet will be as friends.”
Alastar gave him a curt nod. “Let’s hope we pull it off then.”
In the silence that followed, the howling winds mixed with pounding and shrieks from the remnant, and Alastar felt his hand clenching and unclenching as he wished to run out and take his sword to as many of those beasts as he could.
The sooner the better, in his opinion. When the lieutenant returned and said they were ready for him, he nodded to the room and was glad to put it behind him.
He, Rhona, and Donnon followed the man through passages that smelled of old wood, rattled with icy bursts that made their way in past the wind spells. They stopped when they reached the armory, where the lieutenant fitted Alastar with leather plates complete with pauldrons for the shoulders and arms, and a tasset belt with a hanging plate to protect the groin.
“Nothing… stronger?” Alastar asked.
The lieutenant shook his head. “Not that you’d be able to run in.”
“Good point.”
They fitted Rhona in similar attire, though, better made for a woman. She looked the highlander warrior part, with her leather armor over the green dress, now taken in to allow for better running. The lieutenant fitted them each with plaid cloaks that hung over their shoulders to protect them from the cold during the day, and to be used as blankets at night. Alastar cringed at the idea of wearing plaid, but was glad to see it was at least a neutral brown and green, not likely to associate him with any of the major clans who were in ongoing wars with the Order of Rodrick, should any of them have survived.
