Rise of the Mages (Rise of the Mages 2)

by Foster, Brian W.

  But it wasn’t like Brant was asleep. He was unconscious. There’d be no simply waking him.

  What to do?

  Xan smiled. He could explode the guardsmen’s torches. Maybe he’d hurt some of them. Worst case scenario, he’d leave them fumbling in the dark.

  He concentrated on the effect and reached for the magic. It felt like sucking a watermelon through a small tube. Spots danced in front of his eyes. He sank to the ground.

  What the blast! Was it the distance?

  “Maybe we should give up.” Dylan still sat, drearily watching the fire.

  Xan’s head swam. “What do we do?”

  “Did you hear me?”

  Xan closed his eyes. “We’re hurt, and we’re tired. There’s no way we’re going to travel faster than the guardsmen unless we slow them down. But how?”

  “I’m serious.”

  “I doubt laying false trails would work, and it’d probably be too time-consuming.” Xan would brew variegation bark into their tea before they got underway. Their supply dwindled, and he’d prefer to conserve it after such a long rest. The boost the mild stimulant would give them, however, might make a difference. He’d rather run out than be caught and have it still in his bag.

  “Look at me when I’m talking to you!”

  Xan met his friend’s eyes. “Frankly, Dylan, I’m tired of trying to reason with you. I freely admit I got you into this mess. My fault. Completely.” He gritted his teeth. “But you chose to come. You chose to continue with us when you had the chance to bail. You chose to become a mage. Take responsibility.”

  “We broke the law. The penalty is death. That’s what we deserve.”

  Xan took a deep breath. An idea rummaged around the back of his mind. If only he could get it to the front. “I get that you’d condemn me. Even yourself. At this point, I’d gladly sacrifice myself if I thought it would save the rest of you.” He looked through his bottles of supplies. “Brant, though? Lainey? Really?”

  Several minutes passed before Xan realized Dylan hadn’t respond. He usually ended up capitulating but rarely did so without much more argument.

  Tears glistened on Dylan’s cheek. “Justav isn’t evil.”

  “He’s trying to kill us!”

  “It’s a catcher’s job to kill mages.” There was no heat in Dylan’s voice, and that made his words so much worse. “We’re mages.”

  “Do you deserve to die for an accident of birth?” Xan said. “For saving a friend’s life?”

  Dylan sighed. “No, and maybe that makes me a horrible person. I can’t sacrifice everything I’ve worked for. But I also can’t hate the catcher.”

  “You weren’t in that cell.” Xan’s hands shook at recalling his helplessness. “You didn’t feel the vicious kicks, the delight he and his men took in inflicting pain. If those in authority act like bullies, they don’t deserve their power.”

  Dylan looked somber, sad. “What would you do if you captured the vilest of the vile? How would you treat a murderer? A rapist? A child molester?”

  Xan wasn’t any of those things. Hadn’t chosen to become a mage, hadn’t even known until Master Rae figured it out. “Look, I’m scared, too. Frustrated. Worn out. I get that you just want all this to be over, but I don’t want to die. Or you or Brant, no matter how much the two of you frustrate me. And especially not my sister.”

  A memory of one of his first sights in the cave popped into his mind.

  Dylan turned away, rubbing at his eyes with his sleeve. “Even if I buy what you’re saying, what can we do about it?”

  Xan smiled as a plan finally crystallized. “Brant’s going to get another chance to play the hero.”

  32.

  Xan had gotten around ten hours of sleep. Not bad. More than any consecutive stretch in a long time, though a dense fog still masked his thoughts. All he wanted was to crawl on top of his bedroll and drift back into slumber until nightfall.

  Not that he hadn’t tried.

  Four times he’d closed his eyes, determined not to quest with his magic, resolved to ignore the lessening of time before sensing Justav’s torches, committed to accept that there was nothing he could do until Brant woke. But each attempt found Xan on his feet minutes later. He’d finally surrendered, choosing instead to make laps around the fire, obsessively track the catcher’s progress, and gaze wistfully at his bedroll.

  It was deep into the night before they finally broke camp.

  They’d lost almost a full day of lead due to the fiasco with Spear, and they still moved at a crawl compared to Justav. At their current pace, they’d barely be out of the cave before being caught.

  If they didn’t find a way to delay the catcher.

  Brant collapsing the cave would definitely do the trick. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t be able to control how much rock he brought down or where it fell. Xan really didn’t want to be buried under tons of stone.

  And the possibility of a collapse wasn’t the only risk. How much magic could Brant perform without passing out again? Even if he managed not to kill them all, how much time would they waste waiting for him to recover? Ashley endangered her life every night she dreamed.

  They needed to find the perfect section—somewhere narrow enough to clog and with a structure or something nearby that could be used to do the blocking.

  By early evening, Xan despaired that such a section existed. Not only had he not seen a situation that would work since he’d been looking, he couldn’t remember seeing anything like what he needed their entire trip through the cave.

  When he emerged from a tunnel into a large room, he stopped, hardly able to believe his eyes. The dim light from Brant’s torch showed a column huge in circumference except for a thin portion near the roof. He chucked a piece of bark and flared it using his magic. The column leaned the wrong way—to the right of the tunnel exit—but he had a way around that inconvenience.

  “This is it!” Xan said.

  Dylan, for once, didn’t complain. For another wonder, neither did Lainey when they sent her ahead with the horses.

  After they surveyed the area and Xan had explained the revised plan, he cupped a hand behind his ear. “Listen.”

  Hooves clomped on rock. Behind them.

  Sound carried far in the cave, but it was still disconcerting that Justav was close enough to hear.

  Fire blazed in Brant’s eyes. “Let’s do this.”

  Despite Dylan’s earlier enthusiasm for turning himself in, he looked like he was going to puke. “It’s always just one step further. ‘Oh, I’m just going to test you. Oh, only you can save Lainey. Oh, your choice if you want to leave Spear suffering.’ Where does it end?”

  Xan threw up his hands. “Surrender yourself, then. Maybe they’ll take so long with your hanging that we’ll be able to slip away.”

  “Does every blasted thing we do have to turn into an argument?” Brant said.

  Dylan glared at both of them. “Fine.”

  Xan slipped into the magic to watch the glows as his friends manipulated energies. Brant’s face turned red as he concentrated, and surprisingly less than a minute later, a thick gray line stretched from him to the top of the column.

  Too thick. Xan shook his head. “Not so much.”

  The idiot always leapt in with all his strength, and they couldn’t afford another delay, especially if this tactic didn’t work. Had Dylan even accessed the magic yet?

  Brant rolled his eyes. The glow didn’t diminish.

  The tower creaked.

  Hundreds of cone-shaped stone spears hung from the ceiling. What if collapsing the column caused those to come down, too? Another reason to proceed cautiously.

  “Slow down!” Xan said.

  Brant held his right hand in front of him with his palm up and fingers cupped, trembling as if he pulled hard on a rope. “Hope you’re ready, Dylan.” He dropped his hand.

  Crack!

  The tower of rock shifted in the direction it leaned—away from the tunnel exit. The pillar dropp
ing there wouldn’t accomplish anything.

  Xan ran his hand through his hair. At the start of the column’s fall, a small kinetic manipulation would set it on the path they needed. Once it crashed to the ground, Brant would need to lighten all the rocks for them to move the tons of material—all without overextending himself.

  Dylan had only seconds to act.

  The tower picked up speed without deviating from its course. No yellow glow shot from him.

  “Hurry!” Xan yelled.

  “Shut up and let me focus!”

  The pillar accelerated. If it went much further, it would be past the tipping point. They’d have to waste more time, and Xan had no other ideas about how to slow Justav if they failed. Not to mention the fact they’d revealed use of a different kind of magic than alchemical. There’d be no chance of the others escaping.

  Xan bit the inside of his cheek to keep from shouting again.

  A yellow shaft twice as thick as Brant’s shot from Dylan. The column changed course instantly to fall toward the opening.

  It slammed into the tunnel. The cave shook. Stone from the ceiling peppered the ground all around. At the point where the tower struck, loose rocks cascaded with an echoing clatter. A cloud of dust enveloped them.

  While Brant pumped his fist and hooted and hollered, Xan coughed. He couldn’t see anything through the billowing particulates. “Are you sure?”

  “I feel it. The tunnel isn’t completely blocked, but you’d have to be slimmer than Becca Smith to get through.”

  Dylan held bloody fingers to his head and glared at the two of them.

  It would be him who got struck with a rock. How much whining would Xan have to listen to over the injury? “Guess I should take care of that cut.”

  “Don’t bother.”

  Xan infinitely preferred sullenness to moaning. As they traipsed toward where Lainey had set up camp, they fell into silence, and Xan couldn’t help but ruminate on their situation.

  Though he believed they’d finally put one over on Justav, the fact that they’d revealed Brant’s, and possibly Dylan’s, power bothered Xan. He excused himself to attend to the call of nature and returned to the cave-in.

  A quick burst of magic blackened the spot where the tower had cracked from the ceiling. If the catcher cleared enough rubble to get through, maybe he’d believe Xan collapsed the column using fire.

  He arrived back at the camp to find the others slumped onto the floor.

  “What time is it?” Brant looked completely beat.

  Xan quested and detected only a few dinner fires back in Eagleton. “We’ve got a couple of hours of daylight remaining.”

  “Get a nap,” Brant said. “We won’t be in the cave much longer, and we should switch back to moving during the day once we’re outside.”

  The excitement of collapsing the column had set Xan on edge. He hadn’t felt so awake since eating his last licuna seed. And wasting an entire night he could use to get closer to Ashley was intolerable. “I’m not sure I could sleep if I wanted to.” He smirked. “I understand, though, if you’re too tired to continue.”

  * * *

  Late in the evening, Xan realized he’d made a mistake. As exhilaration wore off, exhaustion set it. He’d never be able to make it through a full night of walking, much less the next day as well. After his third time tripping over a rock because his eyes had closed, he caught up to Brant. “I can’t go any further.”

  “But you’re the one who—”

  “Please?”

  A relieved grin stretched across Brant’s face for a moment before disappearing. “What about your dreaming? Didn’t you say sleeping at night would make you more tired?”

  “I know,” Xan said, “but I don’t have a choice.”

  Brant shrugged his acceptance.

  While the others set up camp—including unloading Honey—Xan climbed atop his bedroll, his friend’s words echoing in his head. He couldn’t afford to add to his fatigue, but what could he do about it?

  Surely, mages of old weren’t forever afraid to sleep. There had to be some way to resist the dream. What if he clung to the magic as he slipped under? Maybe he’d sense her trying to pull him in and be able to avoid it.

  Seemed like as good a plan as any, and he implemented it as he closed his eyes. Sleep claimed him within moments.

  An immense, soundless ocean of pure omnipotence appeared below him, power radiating from what he perceived as water. He hovered above its edge. What would it be like to dive into that much raw energy?

  As he questioned the safety of such an act, a beam of light snared him. The glowing line wrapped around his torso and tugged him toward its origin on the opposite shore.

  Strangely, considering the circumstances, he felt no fear, no impulse to fight against the phenomenon. What was happening?

  As soon as the thought struck him, the answer revealed itself—Ashley pulling him toward the dream.

  So much had happened in the eleven days since he’d seen her. Was she safe? Scared?

  All he had to do to find out was to let the beam take him to her. He could talk with her again, reassure her he was on his way.

  Maybe—though he dared hope only in the wildest reaches of his imagination—she’d reward him with another kiss.

  Apparently, even his metaphysical body could flush.

  No!

  As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t give in to those desires. Once he entered the dream, there was no guarantee he’d be able to leave before morning. He had responsibilities. His life, the lives of his friends, and Ashley’s life depended on him getting rest.

  “Be responsible,” he told himself, repeating it until convinced of its truth.

  Instinct guided his resistance, and he reached back toward where he’d hovered. A rope of light shot from his hand and plopped onto the distant shore. He slammed to a halt.

  Though Ashley pulled him, his anchor held. But he wasn’t safe.

  Xan wasn’t slipping into the dream, but he was still in the magic. Thus, his mind wasn’t resting. Instead of spending the night enjoying her presence, he’d consume just as much energy in avoiding her. He had to end her pull.

  But he missed her so.

  The errant emotion loosened his concentration and his grip. He lurched as the beam propelled him forward.

  Blast it! How could he be so stupid?

  Xan focused on the anchor and jerked to a full stop. He had to control himself better and not succumb to childish desires. But what to do?

  There had to be a way to break her hold. He’d allow the orb to move him until he figured it out.

  Xan minutely lessened his grasp on the anchor and edged forward. Perfect. By modulating how hard he clutched the rope, he controlled his speed and proceeded at a comfortable pace to the other shore.

  A glowing purple ball came into view, and the beam pulling him terminated into it. He willed himself to stop. The globe looked nothing like Ashley. In fact, the oval pulsating orb didn’t resemble a human shape. But it felt like her.

  At first glance, it appeared smooth, but closer examination revealed millions of tiny faces. As he focused on a particular facet, a sensation overtook him—a desire to appear strong, hard. A different plane conveyed tenderness.

  It was her essence, every part of her displayed to him, and it was even more beautiful than her physical body. Xan wouldn’t have thought that possible. He wanted to spend forever exploring her, to learn everything about her.

  His mantra repeated itself unbidden in his mind. Be responsible. Reluctantly, he turned his attention from her. He had to break free.

  Once again guided by instinct, Xan stuck his hand into the beam connecting him to the globe. Palm facing out, he severed the ray of light. It winked from existence, and his body heaved back toward where he’d appeared.

  A harsh, orangish-red tint replaced the soothing purple light, and something—almost like a scream, though no sound existed—penetrated his consciousness.

  Disappoint
ment. Rejection. Rage.

  The sensation lasted the briefest of instants, and his rush over the vast repository of energy claimed his attention. He once again wished he could dive into the ocean and fill himself with its power.

  His mantra returned. Be responsible.

  Finally, the seductive call of magic broke against the hard edge of his will. He let the connection close and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  33.

  “Xan!” Lainey yelled. “Breakfast.”

  Already? He stretched, yawned, and rubbed his dreary eyes. The others were seated with plates on their laps. What time was it anyway? No matter how long he slept, it never seemed like enough.

  He quested for fires. An alarmingly short time passed before he sensed Justav’s torches. They seemed closer than ever.

  But that wasn’t possible. Justav couldn’t have made it through the blocked tunnel. Could he? No, but, if the guardsmen cleared enough rubble, a few of their skinnier number might have crawled to the other side.

  Xan checked again. The torches felt close and all together—definitely not just a couple of guys separated from the group. “Is the tunnel still blocked?”

  Brant’s eyes were half-closed as he’d obviously just woken. He paid the question little attention, instead taking another bite of his bear steak.

  Xan’s heart thudded. “I’m serious. Please?”

  Brant rolled his eyes before his brow finally furrowed in concentration.

  Slowly, calmly, Xan stuffed his cloak into a saddlebag. If the blockage somehow hadn’t stopped Justav, Xan and his friends needed to move fast, but he didn’t want to alarm the others since he was probably wrong.

  There was no way for Justav to remove enough boulders for his huge guardsmen to cross the blockage. Besides, sensing the distance of the fires was highly subjective, and Xan’s imagination tended to conjure the worst outcomes.

  But what if he were right? What if the catcher had mages with him? What if Justav were a mage?