Warlords Rising

by Honor Raconteur

  “Not many choose to travel here,” Orba responded, tired. “Those that do are traders desperate to make a coin. And you three are too rich of a prize for them to pass up, I guess. Resign yourselves. You won’t be going back home.” He rolled over, leaning up against the bars and looking listlessly out, signaling he was done talking.

  Trev’nor looked at the other two with a growing sense of frustration. “What do we do?”

  Nolan pointed at the amulets hanging around his neck. “I recognize these. They last twenty-four hours, sealing all magic, although they’re made for wizards and witches.”

  “Which is why they undoubtedly put five of them on us.” Becca tried poking at one and got zapped for her efforts. She yanked her hand back with a wince. “I can’t feel my magic core at all. You?”

  Trev’nor shook his head, throat tight. Nolan did the same.

  “I knew that they had slavery in Khobunter,” Nolan whispered, voice barely audible. “But I had no idea some of them were magicians. As far as I know, only Chahir and Hain really produce magicians. Where did the bloodlines for this even come from?”

  A good question that no one had an answer to.

  Becca shook her head. “That we can figure out later. What we need to ask is how do we get out of here? I’m not sitting still for the rest of my life.”

  “We have no access to magic or weapons,” Nolan responded bleakly. “That’s going to make this harder.”

  Harder, yes, but not impossible. Shad and Aletha both had taught them how to escape just in case they were in a situation like this one. Not that anyone had ever thought they would be. This was not at all the grand adventure that he’d signed up for. He was wishing, too, that the note Becca had left behind actually did give people a hint of where they had gone. They might need the rescue.

  Becca eyed the bars, mouth twisted up and to the side as she thought hard. They were sturdy, those bars. With her magic, she could force her way out as easily as snapping twigs. But without it, she couldn’t do a thing about them. Not barehanded, anyway. The question was, how to get past the bars?

  Strategy was admittedly not her strongest talent. She was decent at it, but most of the time her battle strategy came down to: Charge! Only sometimes was she able to look at a situation and see what Shad or Aletha had taught her, and able to use actual tactics. They had certainly trained her on how to break free if captured, but right now, she wasn’t seeing any sort of escape routes. Even if she saw one right this minute, she wasn’t sure if it was the best idea to move. They didn’t know the routines of their guards at all. The first day they’d been here, they were out cold for most of it.

  Today was their first full day in the slave pens and she planned to use it for observation. It was doubtful that the routine from day to day would change much.

  After they had a better idea of what they had walked into, then she would figure out how to get past those bars. Maybe Trev’nor had an idea. He had learned quite a bit of blacksmithing from Krys and Garth over the years; surely all of that experience and knowledge would pay off. Now would be a good moment for it.

  The doors clanged open and an official looking man with a beer belly and rich silk robes strode through. He wasn’t dressed like anyone else Becca had seen in this country but the way his nose was lifted in the air, an orange peel pressed against it, told her that he was pompous. And a slimeball. If he didn’t like how it smelled in here (she personally didn’t blame him for that part, she didn’t either) then why not put some water and soap in here? Heavens, the whole crowd in here could use the wash.

  He stopped in front of their cage and pointed at them. “What are you?”

  Not who? Where are you from? Becca slowly stood. At least he spoke in perfect Solish so she could understand him. “My name is—”

  The guard at his side moved like a viper, almost a blur of motion, and struck her in the mouth. Or tried. She dodged and it was more like a graze, but it still smarted and left a trickle of blood inside her lip.

  “What are you,” the official repeated, bored, as if this reprimand for not answering his question was only to be expected.

  “Weather Mage,” Nolan answered carefully, coming to stand just in front of her, subtly pushing her out of range of the guard’s reach. “I’m a Life Mage. He’s an Earth Mage.”

  “Weather?” he repeated with the first flicker of curiosity. “Life? There are no types of magic like that.”

  So he was an idiot on top of it all. Becca gingerly dabbed at her lip with the cuff of her sleeve and glared at him. She didn’t feel like straightening him out.

  The guard lifted a triangle that all of them recognized, holding it up so the official could see for himself. Of course, for each person, it glowed a different color. The men looked at the triangle for a long moment, not commenting.

  Finally the official let out a growl of half-frustration, half-resignation. “We will have to ask the warlord what to do with you two. For now, you, Earth Mage. You will help rebuild the walls. Come out.”

  Trev’nor did not look at all happy to be separated from them. The idea frankly terrified Becca. But he didn’t have much of a choice and he stepped out gingerly. This wasn’t fast enough for the guard and he yanked him completely free of the cage door before slamming and locking it shut again.

  Becca went forward, a protest half-formed on her lips, but Trev’nor shot her a look that made her freeze in her tracks.

  No one was waiting to see how she would react. They trooped back out, taking several other slaves with them, and left with a very loud clang of the door.

  Shifting, Nolan put an arm around her shoulder and hugged her against him. “This might be good, Bec. In order to do any magic, they’ll have to take at least one amulet off of him. He’ll also have a chance to really study the outside. If we know how many soldiers there are, and where everything is, we’ll know how to break free of this place while minimizing the danger.”

  All of that sounded good, but it still felt very wrong to send Trev’nor out there alone. “How could they recognize what an Earth Mage is but not our types? I mean, it makes sense with me, but not with you.”

  “It’s a very interesting question. I’m puzzled myself. I think we can assume that they’ve seen Earth Mages before. Which means there is a Rheben line in this insane country somewhere.”

  “But not a Von line.”

  “Right.” Nolan took a good look all around them, regarding the slaves as they huddled together or slept. “Wait, I’m not sure we can assume that. There is a city up here called Von after all. Maybe they just haven’t seen one down here? Argh, I don’t know. I have this feeling that later, after we’ve gotten more information, that this will make perfect sense.”

  She really hoped that he was right. Right now, Becca was desperately short on answers and she didn’t appreciate that feeling at all.

  Hours crept by, slower than a slug moving uphill in a snowstorm. Without windows, it was hard to have any sense of time, and it bothered her. A lot. Becca’s habit was to check the skies every morning and evening, making sure that the weather was moving like she wanted it to. Not being able to do that was like an itch that she couldn’t scratch.

  If she didn’t get to see the sky soon, she might go stark raving mad.

  Nolan spent his time popping his knuckles, then his neck, and finally his toes. After he went through all of his joints three times, Becca finally rounded on him. “Will you stop that? My joints are aching in sympathy just listening.”

  “You try shapeshifting on a regular basis and see what happens to your body,” he returned easily, not at all bothered by her attitude. “My joints are a little confused sometimes on where they’re supposed to be.”

  Becca nearly snapped that he was the all-powerful Life Mage, he could fix that problem himself, then realized that with those amulets on, he couldn’t. Feeling contrite, she asked in a gentler voice, “Do they hurt?”

  “It’s more annoying than anything. There’s no pain involved,
it’s just discomfiting.” Nolan shrugged as if it was no big deal.

  She had a feeling there was a little lie mixed in with truth but let it lay.

  The door clanged open and the slaves taken earlier trudged back in. Becca shot to her feet and huddled near the doors. Nolan just as quickly stood, but grabbed her by the shoulders and hauled her back. She resisted automatically against the restraint until she realized that the guards were ready to smack her again for being too close to the doors.

  Trev’nor looked as if he had been in the suns all morning, cheeks sunburned, dusty, and had only four amulets on instead of five.

  Becca noticed this with interest, as four amulets meant that he could indeed work some magic. Before she could blink, the guard whirled Trev’nor around forcibly and a slave magician—slightly better dressed than the others—dropped an amulet around his neck. Then he yanked off the other four and replaced them.

  Shrieking hinges, so they realized that with mages the amulets wouldn’t last as long? Frustrated, she obeyed the beckoning motion and allowed the amulets to be replaced. She expected the guards to leave at that point but the guard pointed a finger at her and Nolan and asked in a thick, accented Solish, “What can a Life Mage do?”

  Nolan seemed to expect this question as he had a ready answer. “Heal. Anything living, I can heal.”

  The guard seemed interested in this. “Heal what?”

  “Anything.”

  “Anything, anything?”

  “Anything living. I cannot do anything with the dead.”

  Wise man for saying that. Becca had a feeling that they would try to get Nolan to raise dead soldiers if he hadn’t clarified. But she also found his answer interesting. Healing was certainly within a Life Mage’s abilities, but it was considered to be one of the lesser talents. They could do a great deal more than just heal. What game was he playing?

  Satisfied with the answer, the guard stabbed a finger at her. “You?”

  In a split second, she decided that Nolan’s answer was a safe one and it would behoove her to answer likewise. “I can make it rain. Or sunny.”

  He went alert at her words for some reason. “Big storms?”

  “No,” she denied, which was certainly the truth if they expected her to work with four amulets on. “Soft rains. Planting rains.”

  Not being able to call on storms to use as a weapon was a disappointment, but in this desert climate, any rain was very welcome and he still seemed quite excited about her answer. “You both work tomorrow. Bring in rains and you will heal our soldiers.” With that order issued, he did an about-face and left.

  As soon as the door shut, Becca caught Trev’nor’s arm and asked urgently, “What was it like outside?”

  “Not good.” Trev’nor dropped wearily to the ground, arms dangling over his knees. “They seriously work you hard out there. I wanted to tell them that if they would just take off another amulet or two, I could do the work they were wanting a lot faster, but the slaves working with me advised against talking much at all. You talk when you have something important to say and that’s it.”

  “Guards?” Nolan pressed.

  “I couldn’t get a good headcount, sorry. I tried. But they had me outside the city and the guards with us were basically breathing down our necks. They were nervous about escape attempts, I guess, but where can you possibly go?” Trev’nor shook his head. “Me, I could make it fine, after the amulets fell off. But anyone else in here would struggle to survive. It’s literally sand and rocks for miles and miles. I can’t see even a small pond in any direction.”

  Literally suicide to escape the city without their magic. “Easy to run down escapees, I would imagine.”

  “Sure. There’s no place to hide.” Trev’nor rolled his head around on his shoulders. “Busted buckets, I’m tired.”

  “What did they have you doing, exactly?” Nolan asked him, sinking down to sit nearby. “Building a wall, they said.”

  “Apparently they were attacked by a neighboring city or warlord or something about three months ago. There’s holes in the walls, although not many. They were very impressed that I was able to repair them so easily.” Grumbling, Trev’nor added sourly, “Although if I’d had my full magic, I would be done already. At this rate, it’ll take another three days.”

  “I doubt they’re going to release your magic just to get the job done faster,” Becca informed him dryly.

  “Pity, but true,” Trev’nor agreed. “They asked me some questions about you two, and I basically told them what you just did, so I’m glad you gave the same answers. It didn’t occur to me that they would double check what I said.”

  “It’s rule number five,” Nolan said with a cheeky grin. Seeing that expression seemed so out of place in this dismal environment that it was more comical than it should have been. “Never let your enemy see your full potential.”

  Oh, was that his game? “You do realize that Shad’s rules are totally whimsical and the numbers change depending on the color of the sky and whether he’s had coffee that morning, don’t you?”

  “No, the first five stay pretty consistent with us,” Trev’nor disagreed. “The top two especially.”

  “What, ‘I always win’ and rule two being ‘You always lose?’” Becca snorted. “I don’t think those rules help us much at all in here.”

  Nolan shook his head, disagreeing. “Don’t assume anything just yet. Rule five came in pretty handy just now. Shad’s got more experience in situations like this than all three of us combined. I think we need to judge every situation by what Shad would do and try our best to emulate him.”

  “Our chances of surviving are better that way,” Trev’nor agreed quietly.

  The words struck like a physical blow and it wiped out any sign of mirth. Becca had to blink hard, several times, as the conversation made her desperately wish Shad was with them now. If anyone could get them out of this mess, it would be him.

  Trev’nor snuggled into her shoulder, using her as a pillow. “I’m bagged out. Wake me when dinner gets here.”

  Under normal circumstances, Becca would have pushed him off for treating her like furniture and pinched him to boot. But her heart wasn’t in it and she let him stay where he was. In truth, she needed the contact after worrying about his safety most of the day.

  They absolutely had to find a way out of here. Soon.

  They went to work the next morning.

  The guards barely gave them time to eat before hauling them out and into the city. Becca had hopes that she could work in the general area of the boys but the hope quickly died when Trev’nor was again towed outside of the city to work on the walls, Nolan was taken to some area of the city to heal people, and she was taken to the highest point of Rurick—the government building.

  It was clear what the building was because of the huge banners hanging on the walls and the people bustling in and out, all on business. They had ‘government officials’ written all over them. The two guards with her gave her no chance to slow down or ask any questions, just took her up an outside staircase made of stone and directly to the roof.

  Someone had assumed that in order to perform weather magic, she must be at a high point, near the sky. This was far from true but she wasn’t about to correct them. After two days of living in a hole, she was so happy to see that blue expanse that she nearly cried. The slave magician in charge of amulets had already taken off one of hers, giving her the freedom to work her magic, and she was quite happy to do so. Becca’s routine of magic working was a daily thing, sometimes three or four times a day. Not being able to feel her own magic core had felt beyond strange.

  The guards were literally within arm’s reach of her, not varying their positions, and while having someone breathe on her while working was hardly pleasant, Becca knew better than to protest. It would have only earned her a cuff to the head.

  One of them poked her hard in the back. “Work magic.”

  She gave him a look that most girls aimed at slimy f
rogs. “Be more specific. Rain? Do you want rain?”

  The official from the first day sauntered up the staircase, sounding off like a fog horn as he did so, “You said you could make it rain. Why are you asking questions?”

  Because she didn’t want to cause trouble and get hit for not giving them what they wanted. If she could avoid injury, Becca was going to. “How long do you want it to rain? I need more information before I can do anything.”

  He came within two feet of her and stared with a molten look in his eyes, anger and disgust brewing on his face. “You do not ask questions. You obey.”

  Oh for the love of…was he a complete idiot? Becca had suspected he was a half-wit, but this was more than she’d anticipated. Giving up, she turned her attention the sky. If all they wanted was rain, without caring when it came or how long it stayed, then rain she would give them until they got sick of it and told her to make it stop.

  It took a few minutes to find the right wind current, and hook some moisture into the clouds, but she got a rainstorm formed and heading for them.

  The official stabbed a finger in her direction, nearly vibrating with impatience. “You said you could make it rain!”

  “The storm is coming,” she answered as neutrally as she could. “I can’t make instant rain clouds in a moment’s notice.” Not with four amulets on her, at least. “I have to find a weather current, tweak it so clouds can form, then guide it here. That’s going to take time.”

  He blinked and stared at her as if she had just spouted some complex mathematic formula. Perhaps, for him, she had. Most people didn’t have a good sense of how weather worked after all. After processing this for a long moment, he settled on the one part he could understand. “How much time?”

  Probably an hour. “Three hours to get it here and make sure it doesn’t break up before it can arrive. If you want it to stay the whole day?” He gave her a belligerent ‘of course I do’ look, so she continued, “Then I need to stay up here a good portion of the day and divert any other wind streams from taking off with it.” Not necessarily true, but the less time she spent in the slave pens, the better.