"What do you mean, little pirgat?" he asked.
"They could afford to lose those men," I kicked at the snow piling up at our feet. If the snow continued to fall at this rate, we'd be buried in it before the day was out. "They have an army, Pheran. About fifteen thousand, I think, and they're taking the flocks and herds to feed them. It wouldn't be necessary, now would it, for them to have taken so many animals otherwise. Did you notice there were no animals anywhere near those dead raiders? There should have been."
"Why didn't I notice that?" he mumbled, rubbing his forehead.
"I think it's because something else has been interfering with our normal reasoning," I said. "For me, that's a major oversight. It has now been corrected. Their warlock is somehow capable of this, and nearly every man in that army is under his mind control. Not only that, he's damaged them in the process. They won't ever be normal again."
Pheran took a deep breath and looked about him. "Are you sure? How are you sure? Devin, this would explain what worries me, but I have no idea how you might know it. Tell me how I am supposed to believe you?"
"The absence of the flocks and herds, for one thing," I pointed out. "If he can control men's minds, how much easier might it be to control those of animals? He's been pulling those poor beasts straight to his waiting army, no herding required. I suppose I might be what you'd call a mage, for lack of a better term. Yes, I can prove it and no, I didn't use anything except my physical ability to win the Trials last year. The ones who taught me would have had my head if I'd done otherwise."
"I may have to meet them, someday," Pheran crossed his arms over his chest. "What else can you tell me?"
"That this snow isn't natural; it'll pile up over our heads before nightfall. We need to be gone before then. How would you like proof of what I can do, and spend the night in front of a fire in a comfortable room at the same time?"
"If you could do that, we'd all be grateful," Pheran said. "Stunned and grateful. Are your loyalties with the Warlord?"
"In more ways than you know," I nodded. "My kind cannot lie, Pheran. We may choose our words carefully at times, but we do not lie."
"Then tell me what you intend to do."
Pheran spent the rest of the afternoon following me around the campsite. I laid a false signature for the warlock, making it appear that Pheran's company was still there. I then asked all of them to gather their things and stand in as small a circle as they could.
"We will be appearing just outside Heatherfield. We'll have about a click's walk to get into town," I explained. "We don't need to appear from nothing in the middle of town—that would raise too many questions. Is everybody ready?"
All of them, Evret and Athar included, were puzzled at what I was doing. Pheran made an announcement that I was a mage, but even he shook his head, expecting my words to blow up in his face and all of us to freeze to death.
Many of Pheran's troops muttered their disbelief—I would have as well if I were in their place. All of them expressed a healthy amount of pessimism as they'd seen no evidence as yet that I could do anything at all.
When they all were in place, however, I created a brief rush of air before folding them to a field east of Heatherfield. They found themselves standing in a meadow, where sheep bleated in a field nearby. A bell hung around a cow's neck clanked as the cow nipped at the dry grass close to us.
"Pheran, I believe their warlock is responsible for the drought," I sighed. For the past two years, most of Falchan had received little rain. A blood Warlock, with a pile of bodies beneath his boot, could be responsible.
"What can we do about that?" Pheran found his voice. The others were still staring about them in disbelief.
"Can we talk about that after we get to Heatherfield and I have a hot bath?" I asked.
"And food," Pheran agreed. "We can talk over food. Move out," Pheran shouted. Our company surged forward. Good food and a soft bed were waiting, and a mage's talents could be considered later.
As we made our way toward Heatherfield, I shut out the astonished rumblings of our company. After a while, however, I watched as Gray thumped Pheran on the back and grinned, saying, "We have a mage."
"It's probably a good thing the Warlord didn't know about this before he left," Pheran informed me quietly as we walked toward the same inn we'd used before.
"Raiders all gone?" the innkeeper asked as we made our way inside.
"Not all, no," Pheran said, thumping his boots on the threshold to remove the dust. "We'll be going back in the next day or so, to track the others."
The innkeeper didn't mind that we'd returned; the Warlord's money was good, so his and the two other inns made room for all of us.
Within half an hour, my warm bath waited and someone had taken my clothing to wash. I sighed happily as I slipped into the tub and kept the water hot for an hour while I soaked.
* * *
"Might I assume you're behind the decapitated raiders?" Pheran asked as we ate later. He and Gray had a tankard of beer at their elbows while I'd asked for a glass of milk.
"Yes," I nodded, piling cheese on a chunk of bread and biting into it. Pheran waited patiently while I chewed and swallowed. "They knew enough to be frightened when I flew over their heads."
"You flew?" Gray leaned back in his seat and stared warily at me.
"Not like this," I said. "I can shift to a very large bird. Don't worry, only the raiders have anything to fear from me, plus their commanders and that blood-sucking warlock."
"I've always heard they used blood to cast their spells, but didn't know whether to believe it or not," Pheran nodded.
"They're an abomination," I agreed. "I think they're planning on attacking us if we survive the snow storm they sent against us. We can plan a pre-emptive strike; I can take all of us up the mountain and meet them, if that's what you want. I know your warriors would like nothing better than to fight them in fair combat."
"Yes. I feel the same way," Pheran patted his blades. He'd set them on the table beside him while he ate. "Is tomorrow too soon?" he asked.
"Not at all. Just be warned, we'll face twice as many in the raiding party they've sent against us."
"I welcome the challenge," Pheran replied.
* * *
"The snows end here," I drew a makeshift map for Pheran and Gray the following morning while we had tea and breakfast. "The enemy will be traveling through this stand of trees," I tapped the map. "I can take us there and place a shield around us so they won't know we're waiting," I said. "When you give the command," I nodded to Pheran, "I'll drop the shield."
Pheran had a gleam in his eye after I explained what I could do. "I wish the Warlord had held onto you last year," he said. "You have no idea how useful this talent would have been to us."
"I had to leave—there were things I had to do," I said. "But I'm here, now. This is important. We'll get through this or die trying."
"I intend to ask later about those things," Pheran grinned. "But it can wait. Let's get the troops together." He stood and stretched before walking away from the table. Gray and I followed quickly.
* * *
The raiders didn't bother to hide their tracks or soften their steps. The snow about us was only a few inches deep as I waited for Pheran's signal, and the crunch of snow beneath enemy boots in the morning stillness was loud to our ears.
Gray, Pheran and Watcher were near—we'd taken positions behind trees, waiting to spring our trap. The enemy expected to find bodies buried in several feet of snow instead of a live company, waiting for their arrival.
Pheran nodded to me.
I dropped the shield and we were engaged.
Pheran, Gray and I formed a triangle, and all who came against us died. Although we were outnumbered at more than two to one, our troops were better trained and better equipped—the enemy had poorly-made weapons and their knives and bows were no match for us in close combat.
It took nearly two hours, but we took all of them down. Yes—we had losses—t
hree dead warriors lay on the ground and we intended to give them a proper funeral.
"Our youngest and one of the older ones," Pheran shook his head as the bodies were carefully covered for transport.
"We'll take them down the mountain," I sighed, shaking my head.
"Were those we killed affected by the warlock?" Pheran asked quietly.
"All of them," I replied. "They weren't men anymore. Just killing machines."
"Machines?"
"Never mind. Are you ready to be transported out of here?"
"Yes."
* * *
"What is this?" Cephas glared at Iver and Bordok. "You decided to do this without informing me?"
"Yes," Iver refused to meet Cephas' eyes. "It was a simple task if we sent enough men. Bordok arranged for the snows to cover them—they should have died during the storm. Ours should have found only frozen bodies afterward. I cannot say why the plan failed to work."
"You failed to consult me," Cephas hissed. "You have no battle experience and Bordok has less. Yet you send a hundred men after Falchani warriors. Fool." Cephas lifted a drinking cup and tossed it against the side of his tent in anger.
"You forget I am Falchani," Iver snapped.
"Never forget, Falchani," Cephas' knife was at Iver's throat, "I can have you slit open and your guts spilled out at any moment. The warriors who hunt us are not inexperienced youths. They've seen battle and have tattoos to show for it. I notice your skin is clean."
"Only a matter of time," Iver huffed as Cephas shoved him away.
"They should not have escaped the snow I sent," Bordok muttered. "I cannot imagine how they lived through that."
"If we'd sent twice as many as you did, we might have had them," Cephas shouted. "Our strength lies in numbers and your ability to take their minds. Never forget that we must take Heatherfield first, and once we have them under our control, we march forward and take other towns past that until we meet the Falchani army. By then, we should have enough under our command to defeat the Warlord. From now on, leave battle plans to me." Cephas cursed loudly and stalked off, leaving Iver and Bordok inside the tent.
"If he didn't have so much experience, I'd kill him in his sleep," Iver grumbled. Bordok snorted and walked away. He intended to take a life so he might perform a scry; he wanted to see where the enemy might be.
* * *
"Pheran—I'm getting hits against my shield," I said over dinner at a Heatherfield inn later.
"What does that mean?" Pheran expertly lifted a chunk of braised meat with his chopsticks and bit into it.
"It means they're looking for us," I said. A bowl of half-eaten bean soup lay before me. It was good but the bowl was quite large.
"How many did you say they have?"
"Around fifteen thousand or so."
"Not good," Pheran shook his head. "We'd be overrun."
"I think they're planning to come down the mountain," I said. "With a warlock who can control minds, all they have to do is get us out of the way, take the men of Heatherfield and march toward the Warlord's army, taking over any towns in their path the same way. They'll have a huge army at their command by the time Dragon discovers he's being attacked from this side."
"So they want to trap ours between two armies, is that it?"
"Looks that way." I slurped a spoonful of soup as I studied Pheran's reaction.
"I'll send a messenger," Pheran sighed.
"Just put them on alert," I suggested. "The enemy doesn't know what I can do."
"I'm glad. I just wish the Warlord could see what you've done already."
"He'll know it soon enough," I shrugged.
* * *
"I find no evidence that they remain on the mountain. It's my guess they've returned to Heatherfield after the snowfall," Bordok grumbled.
"Then we move," Cephas said. "If we move in quietly enough, we may have Falchani warriors to add to our troops. Warriors that we command," he added with a nod to Bordok.
"When?" Iver asked.
"We move tomorrow night. Make sure the troops are ready."
* * *
"Pheran, I think we need to go now," I said at breakfast the following morning. "I think they'll come this way at nightfall. They're camped on the other side of the Needle, where we might have some leverage against them. If we wait until they move down the mountain, the closer they come, the harder it will be to do anything. There are too many of them."
"What do you think we might do?" Pheran asked, lifting an eyebrow. "I'll send a messenger to the Warlord, but that will take time."
"The Warlord's army can't get here before Heatherfield is attacked," I said. "Tell him we'll do everything we can."
"What are you planning, pirgat?"
"Are you familiar with the phrase, desperate times call for desperate measures?"
"I have heard something similar, only it goes the more desperate the moment, the more desperate the actions," he responded.
"I believe we have arrived at a desperate moment," I said.
* * *
High, rocky peaks rose over both sides of Needle Pass. Taking forces through the narrow passageway was like threading a needle and so it had gained its name. If invaders met an army on the other side, they could be picked off easily—the rocky cliffs, with barely room enough for four men to march abreast, rose more than two hundred feet and curved inward at the top.
It was also the only viable way to cross the western mountain range into Falchani lands. That's why the enemy always chose the flatter areas to the east. Until now, only raiders had used the Needle to make their way past the steep mountain ranges.
"What are you planning, Devin?" Pheran turned to me.
He and I stood atop one of the cliffs overlooking Needle Pass, while Gray and the rest of his troops stood on the other side.
"Send Gray and the others here," I drew a map in the rocky dust at our feet.
"That's halfway down the mountain," Pheran muttered, examining my crude drawing.
"They'll need to be that far down," I said. "If any of the enemy army survives, Gray can order the attack from there."
* * *
"You're coming," Cephas said. "Whether you like it or not."
"That wasn't my agreement," Iver replied.
"I don't care what you agreed to. We're moving through Needle Pass at nightfall, and you know the Falchani lands better than I. You'll go or I'll have Bordok force you."
"I'll go." Iver stalked away from Cephas.
* * *
Blades were checked, sheaths were strapped on and buckled and anything not necessary had been left in Heatherfield. Watcher grinned at me as I followed Pheran and Gray through the company after I'd set them down at their designated spot on the mountain. It was easily defensible and only a dusting of snow lay on the ground about us.
They'd become used to being ferried about by me, and they'd appreciated warm beds and warmer meals in Heatherfield. If all went according to plan, they wouldn't have to pull blades from sheaths for this battle. I worried about what might happen to them if things didn't go according to plan.
"Pheran, are you ready?" I glanced up at the Falchani Lord Marshall. He was satisfied with his troops.
"I'm ready," he nodded. "Will we survive?" he asked.
"That's the plan, but anything might happen," I replied.
"If it saves Falchan, I'll gladly offer my life," he said.
"Same here." I folded us to the top of the Needle.
* * *
Cephas studied the sky as the sun dropped toward the horizon. Clouds had moved in, obscuring the moon riding low on the eastern edge of the mountains. He'd roused Iver from a sound sleep moments earlier—instead of preparing himself and his belongings, the Falchani brat had taken a nap.
Bordok, on the other hand, had worked spells all afternoon around a large bonfire, chanting and sacrificing several strong men. It sickened Cephas every time he saw Bordok licking blood from the dagger he used to kill, so he hadn't watched that par
t. Squaring his shoulders, Cephas went in search of his five subordinates—those who remained free of Bordok's spells.
* * *
The warlock looked tiny from such a distance. Pheran and I, lying on the edge of a cliff, looked down on the enemy camp on their side of the mountain.
"Is that?" Pheran grimaced.
"He's licking blood from his knife," I confirmed. "After he killed to produce his spell. He isn't waiting to cast spells when he arrives in Heatherfield. He's starting now."
"What does that mean?" Pheran turned a worried gaze in my direction.
"It means I should have Looked earlier," I muttered. "I have to do something now." I rose to my feet and dusted off my leathers.
"What will you do?"
"Call lightning."
* * *
"We may have a storm before that idiot finishes his spells," Iver grumbled.
"Then we'll march in the rain and snow," Cephas said. "As will you."
"What if there is lightning?"
"I don't care, as long as I live through it."
* * *
Dark clouds hovered overhead and freezing raindrops splashed my face as I squinted upward. I was in a race with a dangerous warlock, to save the residents of Heatherfield. If he succeeded in casting his spell, their minds would be too damaged to repair and they'd die.
Oh, he'd wait until he arrived in town to command them, but their minds would already be his. The range of his power was terrifying, and the fact that he used blood he'd already spelled made it stronger and more potent.
"Pheran," I said, "Get ready." I pulled my blades from their sheaths and held them skyward, before infusing them with power.
* * *
Bordok's spell was nearly complete—he only needed one more life. There was no fear in his victim's eyes as he approached, although he'd seen the others die.
"There are none here who can withstand my power," Bordok smiled, displaying sharp, bloody teeth as he raised his knife. The scream never passed his lips as lightning consumed him.
* * *
Pheran wanted to shout as we were bathed in lightning. There was no time to tell him that this was a way for Saa Thalarr to travel on and off worlds, where Ra'Ak watched every expenditure of power with suspicion—lightning was natural and hid our power signature well enough—we merely had to gauge it carefully so it wouldn't be too much.
Other Worldly Ways (Anthology 1) Page 16
