by James Wisher
“That figures. Demon raccoons. Heaven’s mercy, what next?” His master sighed. “Imogen’s always been prickly. The important thing is they’re safe. No sign of the urn?”
“Not that I saw.”
“All right. It’s time you three were on your way. Keep in touch.”
“Understood.” Damien turned to Jen and Leah. “All set?”
Jen nodded. She had her bulging pack, sword, and new clothes. Leah spread her hands and smiled. “I have all I need.”
Apparently it wasn’t much. “Okay. Where are we headed? I can have us anywhere in the kingdom by sunset.”
“Oh no,” Leah said. “We can’t fly. If the guilty parties spot a sorcerer approaching they’ll know what the wise one has done. We have to sneak in.”
They didn’t have time to walk or ride and Damien didn’t feel like it anyway. “Can we at least fly partway then walk in?”
“I don’t know…” Leah frowned and looked away.
“How long did it take you to walk here?” Jen asked.
“Ten days.”
“Do you think we have ten days to spare getting back?” Jen raised an eyebrow.
“I take your point. I know a place where we can land. It’s two days from there to the grove.”
“That sounds like a fair compromise.” Damien led the way out of the throne room and toward the main gate. “Which way?”
“Northwest.”
Damien conjured a platform surrounded by a waist-high railing. When they’d all climbed aboard he surrounded it with an invisibility shield and shot into the air. The city blurred below them as they streaked through the pink and orange sky.
Jen stood beside him. “This is much faster than when we flew with Master Shen.”
“Too fast?”
“No. Did you think any more about what you’re going to tell Karrie?”
“No. The demon raccoons distracted me then Imogen insulting me left me too upset to think about it.”
Jen laughed. “All joking aside, you’re going to have to tell her something when we get back.”
Leah joined them at the front of the platform, sparing him from having to answer. Jen was right of course, he couldn’t leave Karrie hanging forever.
“So where do you want me to land?” he asked.
“There’s a mountain meadow halfway up the slope of an especially jagged peak at the edge of the Crescent Ridge Mountains. From there we can climb down to the lowlands. The grove is about ten miles into the Great Green.”
“Rough country,” Damien said. “No wonder it’ll take two days to walk.”
Leah brightened. “Are you familiar with the area?”
“I flew over it once. That probably doesn’t count.”
They reached the meadow a little after noon. Damien settled his transport, the dry meadow grass crunching under the platform. He scanned the area for anyone that might be watching, but sensed nothing beyond a few small animals. Content that they were alone he lowered the invisibility shield.
Leah set out downslope and to the east. She set a brisk pace and Damien found he had no breath for conversation. Damien had always considered himself to be in good condition, but compared to Leah he was way out of shape. He’d have to stop flying so much and run more.
Near dark they stopped in a clearing at the border of the Great Green. Towering oaks just starting to bud surrounded them. He slid down the trunk of the nearest tree and closed his eyes. Heaven’s mercy, if tomorrow was as bad as today he wasn’t going to be in any shape to fight anyone.
When he opened his eyes Jen was standing over him, her pack in her hand. “Unless you want a cold dinner you’re going to have to provide me with some heat.”
Damien groaned. All he wanted was sleep, but from his sister’s tone he knew she was hungry. Warlords burned a lot of energy, two or three times more than a regular person, and needed plenty of food to use their abilities at full strength.
He pointed at the center of the clearing and golden flames sprang to life. He set a trickle of soul force to maintain them and closed his eyes again. The scent of sizzling meat soon filled the air. Damien’s stomach grumbled and his mouth watered. He could sleep after dinner.
Damien glanced at Leah. The druid sat off by herself, her legs crossed, a faint, green glow surrounding her body. It didn’t come from within her, but rather from the ground.
“Is that glow the earth force you mentioned?”
She looked his way and smiled. “Yes. This is one of the sacred groves where initiates come to meditate. The Green Path runs strong in this place.”
“Weren’t you afraid one of your people might be here?”
“If someone was here I planned to introduce you as new members.”
“How come I can see the earth force around you? You said I was too bright and wouldn’t be able to spot it.”
“You can see it because I concentrated it and gathered it around my body. I haven’t slept in four days. The earth force sustains me and will allow me to continue moving until we reach the grove tomorrow.”
“What happens then?”
“I’ll enter a trance for a day or perhaps two where my body will rest and recover. We call it the little death as it appears those in the trance have stopped breathing. Rest assured I will be fine.”
Damien shook his head. It never ceased to amaze him how little he knew about the kingdom. The instant he imagined he knew what was going on he got hit over the head by druids and demon raccoons.
“Food’s ready.” Jen poured stew into three bowls, handed them out, and set to eating. Damien smiled and tore into a chunk of beef. At least he could count on Jen not changing.
Chapter 15
The sun was peeking over the walls when Jonny finally had everything he thought he’d need to make his escape from the capital. He adjusted the coil of rope he’d stolen from the ruins of a hardware store. Assuming he made the jump across to the wall he’d need the rope to climb down without breaking his neck. His first attempt had ended before it began. He’d planned to jump from the roof of the Red Rooster Inn, but when he arrived he found the third floor sunk into the second. The screams of the injured filled the air around the inn. Jonny had made himself scarce in a hurry.
Now he was headed to his second choice, The Iron Path dojo. They had a flat roof where the students liked to train on nice days. Jonny hoped the masters and students were out doing their civic duty and helping with the injured.
Every few steps he glanced up at the sky. The three sorcerers patrolling above the city had their eyes pointed up and out, not down. Jonny was just another speck on the ground. Far beneath the notice of such high and mighty people, or so he fervently hoped.
The dojo was a beautiful red building with decorative tile on each floor’s overhang. Most of the tiles now lay on the ground around the building, smashed into so much rubble. At least the structure itself seemed intact. He looked up. It measured about twelve feet from the edge of the roof over to the wall. That was a hell of a jump, but if he got a good run at it he might just make it. It was his best option at the very least.
He strode up to the big double doors with their bronze dragons and pounded on them with the hilt of his dagger. He waited a full minute before trying again. When another full minute had passed he slipped the thin blade into the narrow gap between the doors. He worked it up until he met resistance. He grunted and wrenched on the blade. A clatter came from behind the doors and they swung in a little. He shoved them open enough that he could squeeze through and closed and barred them again.
He frowned. If the doors were barred from the inside, how did the students plan to get back in?
“Can I help you?” An old man with a wispy white beard and wrinkled bronze skin hobbled into the entryway, leaning on a cane. He had to be at least ninety.
“I’m with the city guard. We’re going from building to building, making sure everything is okay.”
The ancient figure cocked his head. “You broke into our dojo to make su
re no one had broken into our dojo?”
Jonny had to admit when he put it that way it did sound pretty stupid. It would sound even worse if he backtracked now. “That’s right. If you’ll excuse me I need to check your roof.”
“Is that what the rope is for?” The old pest made no effort to move aside.
“It’s guard business. Please get out of my way.”
“I think not. I think you’re a liar and a thief who stole that uniform along with the rope. If you truly are here in an official capacity we shall summon a squad of your comrades and ask them. I see no reason for an honest guardsman to object to that.”
“I don’t have time for this.”
Jonny reached out to move the old-timer aside. A moment later he found his arm pinned behind his back. Despite his apparent age the old man had a grip like iron. Jonny was shoved back toward the door. He stumbled and fell to his knees, the carefully coiled rope spilling to the floor.
Jonny snarled, leapt to his feet, and dragged his sword free of its sheath. It had been a long night and he was out of patience. He’d killed one person already tonight. What was one more?
“Just who are you anyway?” Jonny asked.
The old man bowed. “Grandmaster of the Iron Path, Fo Shen.”
Jonny swallowed, a good deal less confident about his chances of getting past now. “I don’t want to hurt you. I just want to get up on the roof.”
“I have no wish to hurt you either, but you are clearly not who you claim to be. I have no objection to waiting for the actual guards to arrive and settle this peacefully.”
“Unfortunately, that won’t work for me.”
Jonny lunged at Shen. The old master dodged aside and tripped him. Jonny staggered and spun back to find his opponent leaning on his cane, a look of serene disinterest on his face.
Jonny hated being mocked. He wanted to kill the old master now just to show he could.
He eased closer, sword poised to dart in at the slightest opening. He lunged within striking distance and still Shen hadn’t moved. Jonny slashed at his opponent’s ribs.
Far faster than someone that wrinkled should be, Shen stepped inside his swing, caught Jonny’s wrist, and sent him flying toward the door. He landed on his rope, barely hanging on to his sword. Jonny leapt to his feet, growling deep in the back of his throat.
The old master offered a faint smile. “I haven’t had this much fun in years. Do you wish to go again?”
Damn right he wished to go again. Jonny rushed at Shen, hacking and slashing, stabbing and thrusting. It was like trying to stab the air. No matter what he tried Fo Shen seemed to flow around his blade. Jonny couldn’t touch him.
He backed up after his furious assault, gasping for air. His opponent wasn’t even breathing hard. Jonny seriously doubted Shen even needed his cane.
“Your technique is adequate,” the old master said. “But you use too much muscle and your attacks are obvious. I know what you plan to do an instant after you decide to do it. In a year or two I could teach you to be subtle. Then you would be truly dangerous.”
Jonny seethed as Shen offered his critique. He had always thought of himself as an above-average swordsman. He could stand toe to toe with any of the other guards in the training ring. Yet against a man old enough to be his great-grandfather he couldn’t so much as scratch him.
He straightened up and strode forward. He had to get past Shen to escape the city, so he would. Jonny’s sword snapped out in quick, darting thrusts. Sometimes two or three in quick succession and never in the same spot twice.
It didn’t matter. Shen was smoke and Jonny’s sword every bit as effective against him as it was against smoke.
“Master!”
Fo Shen’s concentration broke for a fraction of a second. Jonny’s sword pierced his stomach and punched out his back.
Shen slumped to the floor. Jonny spun and found a teenage boy in a red and gold uniform standing in the doorway, his fists balled and his legs wide in a deep fighting stance.
“You killed the grandmaster!”
The wounded man groaned.
“He’s still alive, boy. If you run for a healer he might be alive when you get back. Fight me and even if you win he’ll still die. Choose.”
Every muscle in the boy’s body tensed then he turned and ran. Jonny sighed. He really hadn’t wanted to fight another Iron Path warrior. Especially a young one that actually wanted to kill him.
He ran over to his rope, coiled it up, and ran for the steps.
As he passed, Fo Shen grabbed his pant leg. Jonny stopped and looked down.
“Thank you for sparing the boy.”
Jonny shook his head and pulled his pant leg free. He looked at his sword then at the old man. Jonny cleaned the blade on his tabard and sheathed it. Whether Shen lived or died Jonny would be long gone. He’d let fate decide.
Chapter 16
Alden and Imogen flew low above the city, getting a firsthand look at the destruction. This was what they’d been reduced to, flying around and looking. They had no idea where to go or who to talk to. Every lead they’d had was either dead or useless. As far as they were concerned Jonny Linn might as well be a ghost.
“We should help with the cleanup,” Alden said. “We’d have as good a chance of finding him as we do just randomly searching.”
“Do as you wish. I mean to keep looking.”
Alden shook his head. Imogen was taking Jonny’s escape personally. He almost felt bad for the former guard. If she ever got a hold of him it wouldn’t be pretty.
“Help! Please!”
Alden didn’t know what it was about the desperate cry that made it stand out from every other call he’d heard in the past several hours, but whatever it was he focused on a figure in red waving his arms. It looked like a teenager and he was staring up at the two sorcerers.
Alden started down.
“What are you doing?” Imogen asked.
“That boy’s signaling us. I’m going to check it out.”
“It’s a waste of time.”
“Maybe, but flying back and forth isn’t doing us much good. A two-minute conversation isn’t going to make or break us.”
“It might,” Imogen said, her voice grim.
Alden landed beside the boy and, despite her complaining, Imogen joined him.
“What’s wrong, son?” Alden asked.
“The grandmaster. He stabbed the grandmaster. It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t distracted him…”
“Slow down. Take a breath. Who stabbed who where?”
“The man was dressed like a guard. He stabbed the grandmaster in our dojo. I’m a student of the Iron Path. Please, the grandmaster is still alive. You have to help me.”
Imogen and Alden looked at each other for a moment. She described Jonny to the boy. “Was that him?”
“Yes, ma’am. Will you come?”
“Lead the way,” Alden said.
The Iron Path dojo was only a three-minute run away. They rounded a corner in time to see someone leap from the roof over to the wall. Imogen raced toward him. Alden watched her a moment then looked to the boy, his face a mask of concern. Imogen could handle a simple guardsman on her own.
“Where’s your master?”
The boy slumped with relief. He grabbed Alden’s wrist and practically dragged him through the doors into the dojo. An old man lay on the floor twenty feet inside, a pool of blood quickly spreading around him. Alden conjured more light and ran over to him.
The grandmaster’s breathing was shallow and his hands were clenched around his stomach. Alden gently moved his hands aside to expose the wound. He winced. Jonny had run him clean through.
A stream of healing energy leapt from Alden’s hands. It would take a while, but he could fix everything. Whether the grandmaster had the strength to recover after the healing was out of Alden’s control.
Chapter 17
Jonny hurled the coil of rope across the gap between the dojo roof and wall. The coil slid acros
s the walkway and stopped against a crenellation. Now if he could make the jump as easily he’d be all set. He unbuckled his mail and shrugged out of it. Every extra pound might be the difference between making it and falling to a broken leg.
He backed up to the far edge of the roof, took a steadying breath, and sprinted toward the wall. He reached the edge of the roof and leapt. His legs flailed as he sailed across the gap, like he was swimming through the air. His midsection slammed into the walkway on the top of the wall, driving the air out of his lungs. His fingers scrambled and his boots skidded off the wall.
Somehow, he managed to drag himself up over on to the walkway. He lay there for a second panting and counting his blessings.
“Jonathan Linn!”
What now? He turned his head to see a furiously scowling blond sorcerer flying toward him. Under any other circumstances the sight of a woman that beautiful moving in his direction would have filled Jonny with joy. Now all he could do was curse his bad luck.
He scrambled to his feet. A moment later golden bands formed around his legs and chest, pinning him in place. Jonny struggled, but he had more hope of smashing down the wall with his head than he had of escaping the sorcerer’s binding.
She landed beside him, no less terrifying and gorgeous up close than she had been at a distance. Maybe whatever was in the satchel could help. Jonny struggled to reach it, wrenching his torso and forearms around.
“Don’t waste your time,” the sorcerer said. “There’s no way you can break those bands. You’re coming with me and before I’m finished you’ll tell me everything you know about Connor Blackman and his plans.”
Now Jonny knew he was in trouble. Who the hell was Connor Blackman? No way the red tabards would believe he didn’t know anything. The tips of his fingers brushed the flap of the satchel. Just a little more.
