Rise of the Mages (Rise of the Mages 2)

by Foster, Brian W.

  She turned to Xan. “My grandfather’s banker knew a man who visited what was left of Goldstream. Sand had turned to glass, and nothing grew nearby. The man was young and healthy before the trip. Within a month, all his hair fell out, and he died.”

  “Standard superstitious drivel about blighted cities. A friend of a friend of a friend died horribly after being near one. Blah. Blah. The part about the Lion doesn’t even make sense. How can he both fly and blast the town?”

  Dylan had had about enough of Xan talking to her like that!

  “I’ve not gotten a favorable impression of your intelligence,” Lady Ashley said in a matter-of-fact tone, “but what genuinely idiotic comments. If I tell you General Flynn defeated an enemy army, I don’t mean he did it personally. And patients at Asherton’s hospital have been treated for the effects of infestation, so clearly, blighted cities do exist and cause illness.”

  Dylan grinned. Xan would try to argue, and the niskma would eviscerate him. Always fun to watch Xan get put in his place.

  Instead, he turned and disappeared into the woods.

  “And if it’s such nonsense,” Lady Ashley called, “are you willing to go there? Or drink that water?”

  He didn’t return until the rest of the group had eaten and mounted.

  “There’s a nice inn in West Bydale,” Mari said once they’d gotten underway. “That’s the furthest I’ve been from home, maybe six hours’ ride.”

  Brant glanced at Xan, who looked away.

  Dylan shook his head. What was up with them? They fought each other for control the entire way, but with the end in sight, neither wanted it?

  “The garrison isn’t much farther,” Brant said. “We should ride as far as we can.”

  Lady Ashley frowned. “Will we reach it before nightfall?”

  Mari shrugged apologetically. “We’ve been traveling slowly.”

  “That’s settled then,” Lady Ashley said. “We’ll stop in the town.”

  Brant looked to Xan again. “Is that a good idea? The guardsmen are still tracking us.”

  While Xan just stared at the ground as if the grass were somehow fascinating, Dylan’s heart raced. He’d have preferred that Mari never learn anything about the catcher. Would she run away screaming at that bit of news?

  Not that her reaction mattered to him.

  Her eyes widened, and she shot Lainey a questioning look. Lainey mouthed the word “later.”

  Was the girl daft? Who hears, “Hey, the people you’re with are dabbling in magic,” and calmly puts off getting a full explanation?

  Not that it was any of his business.

  “Let me be clear,” Lady Ashley said. “I will not sleep on the ground. The rest I leave to you.”

  When Xan didn’t react, Brant exhaled sharply. “If we’re going to stop early, we’ll set a lookout.”

  All that was left was to choose a sentry. Brant volunteered, but the niskma vetoed the idea. Xan continued staring at the ground.

  Without much of a choice, Dylan raised a hand. “I guess I’m it.”

  Mari looked at him like he’d slayed a dragon or something. He couldn’t help but grin.

  After another four hours of hard riding, Brant halted the party on the top of a large hill. “You’ll be able to see for miles from here.”

  Dylan nodded.

  As he dismounted, Lainey said, “Mari should stay with you.”

  He argued of course. Why put the girl in danger, too? Somehow, Lainey turned it on him—he wasn’t trying to imply Mari couldn’t take care of herself. And she looked at him with those big eyes like he was some kind of hero out of a story.

  With his friends offering no help at all, he’d eventually had no choice but to relent.

  A tall pine stood apart from the other trees. Holding the spyglass case, Dylan faced the way they had come with his back against rough bark. Mari floated to the ground a few feet away and tucked her legs under her with no apparent concern for mussing her dress.

  Silence stretched. He should say something. But what?

  “Your tunic is a handsome color,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve seen the like.”

  Dylan straightened. “I created the dye combination myself. Mainly indigo of course but with woad extract and just a pinch of turmeric mixed in. It’s become quite popular in Eagleton.”

  Why had he said that? Lainey always told him how much it annoyed girls when men boasted. Mari didn’t seem put off, though. She stared at him with those doll-like eyes and asked for details about the ingredients.

  Each answer led to more questions. They discussed colors and dyes for an hour before Dylan realized he’d dominated the conversation. “I must be boring you. Even Lainey won’t discuss dresses this long.”

  Mari blinked her incredible eyes. “I find the subject fascinating. I never knew so much thought went into creating colors.”

  Despite her denial, she looked like she wanted to say something.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “Really.”

  She chewed the inside of her cheek. “It’s like everybody’s in on some big secret except me. Who’s chasing us? Brant said something about guardsmen. Why would a catcher be after us?.”

  Dylan hesitated. How much should he tell her? “I’m afraid that, if I tell you everything, you might run screaming back to your father’s house.”

  She smiled. “You’d rather I stay?”

  How’d she get that from what he said? He shook his head.

  Her grin inverted. “You want me to leave?”

  “I didn’t … I mean …”

  She stared at him sternly until bursting into a fit of giggles. Dylan tried to resist joining her but couldn’t. And once he started, he couldn’t stop. His mirth fueled hers. Eventually, they laughed themselves breathless and collapsed to lie beside one another on the soft grass.

  “I’m made of sterner stuff than you know, Dylan d’Adreci,” she said. “I’m not wont to run home at the first sign of trouble.”

  But that was what she should do instead of hanging around mages or heading toward a city due to be sieged. He needed to scare her.

  Dylan sighed. But the warmth of her body heated his arm so delightfully. “It’s not safe for you to be here.”

  “I thought my hero was going to protect me?” She playfully batted her eyes.

  “Don’t tease. I’m serious.”

  “Tell me then. What’s going on?”

  He should tell her everything. About Xan and Brant and Lainey … and himself. That would send her running. But from the story she told earlier, she held a dim view of magic use—as she should. Could he stand her loathing him?

  Her safety should come before any other consideration.

  Dylan took a deep breath. “Xan’s an alchemist. A catcher locked him up back in Eagleton, and we helped him escape.”

  “You don’t seem the type to break the law.”

  “I’m not. I thought … Well, that doesn’t matter, now. I had to stick by my friend. Right?”

  “Loyalty is a fine trait?” She shrugged. “Forgive me. I don’t know you all that well.”

  “No, you’re right.” He clutched the medallion under his tunic. “Should I have refused to help him? Each step seemed so reasonable at the time.”

  “Is being here with me so bad?” She batted her eyelashes again.

  He laughed. When was the last time he’d even chuckled before meeting her?

  “Besides,” she said, “you’ll be telling your grandchildren …”

  Was he crazy, or had she almost said “our?”

  Looking sheepish, she cleared her throat. “… about how you broke your friend out of jail and rescued the niskma from kidnappers.”

  Dylan couldn’t have cared less about stories. All he wanted was to expand his family’s business. They lapsed into silence. After a few minutes, he rose to pace the road.

  Welloch was the key. Lay low there for a while. No one had to know he could use magic. Return to Eagleton or set up a shop in Asher
ton once things had blown over. The only complication was Mari. She was intent on going to court and would never agree to come with him.

  Huh? What was he thinking? Dylan marched back to the tree, his mind full of all the things he was going to tell her. It wasn’t her fault. She was really quite nice. Attractive even. It just wouldn’t work.

  Mari didn’t look up from her needlepoint as he approached, so he stomped leaves to draw her attention. She still didn’t look up. Standing over her, he cleared his throat.

  “Would you mind terribly being quiet for a while?” she said. “This portion requires concentration.”

  She couldn’t spare him a few minutes because of some blasted knitting? Had he imagined her interest? If so, that was good. Right?

  He looked up. A plume of dust rose on the horizon. Dylan threw open the spyglass case. More than twenty black-liveried guardsmen rode toward him.

  “Mount up. Now!” he yelled.

  They galloped toward West Bydale until the catcher and his men topped the rise behind them. Dylan slowed to a trot to appear less suspicious.

  Mari bounced in her saddle, her expression ecstatic. He shook his head. How could she possibly find the situation exciting?

  With only a sliver of the sun hanging above the horizon, they passed a campsite with a stream and plenty of space from cut-back trees. Maybe the guardsmen would stop. Dylan prayed they’d stop.

  A half mile ahead, the road curved and they pressed forward at a gallop. Dylan had to warn the others.

  50.

  Xan bolted upright. The light from the corridor outlined a small figure in the doorway—Dylan.

  While Brant stirred to life in the next bed, Xan tried to shake the remnants of a dream, but the mummer’s farce played again and again in his head—Brant kicked in the door. Ashley threw her arms around him. “My hero!” She turned to Xan. “Here’s a copper. Be a good man and take my bags to the carriage.”

  “Get up!” Dylan yelled. “The guardsmen!”

  Brant’s heavy feet hit the floor. “Where? Downstairs?”

  Xan knew he should do something, that he should care. Instead, he buried his face in his pillow. What difference would it make? If Justav wanted to kill him, it’d at least be a release from worrying. And from thinking about Ashley.

  A hand shook Xan’s shoulder. Groggy, he squinted against a lamp burning in the corner. He must have fallen back to sleep. Brant stood over him already fully dressed.

  Xan sat up. “What’s going on?”

  “We think the catcher camped a few hours from town,” Brant said. “It was a long night.”

  “Was?” Xan said. “What time is it?”

  “Near first light.”

  Xan exploded to his feet. “And we’re still at the inn? What the blast are you doing?”

  “Me? You the one who—” Brant muttered something under his breath. “Lady Ashley believes a word from her will stop a horde of guardsmen in their tracks.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  Brant pointed at the door. “She’s downstairs. Tell her that.”

  How was it possible that Ashley was so different than the girl he met in the meadow? There was no sweetness. Not even reasonableness. Beyond her physical beauty, there was nothing to recommend her.

  Surely, the girl from those twenty nights still existed somewhere beneath everything. Right? Too bad she’d stopped dreaming when they’d rescued her. Maybe meeting her there again would have helped.

  Xan rubbed a hand through his hair. “You’re right. Sorry I yelled at you.” He looked at a mess of clothes and supplies scattered on the floor by his saddlebags. “I’ll be down in a second.”

  Instead of leaving, Brant sat on the opposite bed. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” The listless comment hung pitifully between them, but what was Xan going to say? That the girl he thought he loved literally didn’t know he existed, hated his guts, and fell for Brant instead. What kind of complete loser would say that?

  “I’m worried about you.” Brant paused. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for … anything I may have done to make things worse.”

  No. They were not having that conversation! Xan shrugged. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” Except deliberately moving in on a girl that … But that was just Brant being Brant. “It’s been a long couple of weeks.”

  “We’re cool then?”

  The guy had saved Xan so many times. What was a little treachery between friends? “We’re cool.”

  “We’ll reach the garrison today. An escort of the duke’s soldiers will make things better.” Brant clapped him on the back, making Xan wince. “Don’t give up.”

  If they weren’t arrested by those soldiers or captured by Justav first.

  Xan tried grinning but feared the expression came out as a grimace. “I’ll be fine. Just give me a few minutes to get ready.”

  After Brant left, Xan chewed another of his dwindling seeds. A bolt of energy hit him, and he rushed about stuffing his dirty clothes in a saddlebag.

  Downstairs, the others were almost finished with breakfast. Porridge bubbled in a pot over a fire. Great. How was he going to gulp it down without burning himself?

  Cheese and biscuits it was. Again. He almost gagged at the thought.

  But did he have to settle for a cold meal? He had the ability to add and remove energy from a fire. Could he also increase and lower an object’s temperature?

  Worth a shot. The amount of magic required would be akin to lighting a candle—not noticeable or traceable.

  Power flowed to the food, cooling the porridge to match the room. Neat. With another thought, he added a smidge of energy. Not too hot or too cold. He downed the entire bowl without bothering to sit.

  Lainey glared at him, and he expected a comment about his manners. Instead, she whispered something to Dylan, who rose to get bread for Marisol.

  Xan grimaced. He was experiencing the lowest point in his life, and his sister didn’t care. And one of his only friends was so caught up with some farmer girl that he didn’t even notice anything was wrong.

  And his other friend …

  Ashley flicked her hair off her neck and laughed at something Brant said. Xan thought back to the night he’d spent alone and cold on the plain right after they’d escaped the cave. As bad as that experience had been, he’d felt less isolated at that point than in an inn’s common room surrounded by his friends.

  He stalked to the stable. They needed to get a move on anyway. After loading Honey, he rode her outside into the chill of the predawn morning.

  With arms clenched tight against the cold biting him through his cloak, he debated just leaving. It wasn’t like he’d be missed, and it seemed unlikely Ashley’s father would help him. But he was tired of running. One way or another, the duke would bring resolution.

  On the road leading from town, something moved, and Xan squinted. What was it? There wasn’t enough light to see clearly.

  He stared for several minutes. Should he go check it out?

  As he’d about decided to do just that, rustling from inside the stable indicated the others loading their horses. Best to wait for them. Besides, with dawn fast approaching, he could almost make out the shape.

  Over the next few minutes, the world lightened, and the shape of a man appeared—a man dressed in black.

  Xan dismounted and rushed into the stable. “The road is guarded.”

  The others stopped loading the horses. Brant ran to the stable door and peeked around the edge. “You’re right.”

  Xan gritted his teeth. Of course he was right. “I can take him.”

  “And the archers they’ve probably hid in the woods?” Brant said.

  Xan narrowed his eyes and turned toward the door. “I’ll take them out, too.” He’d save the day. Maybe that would convince Ashley of … something.

  Brant grabbed Xan’s arm. “Better if I sneak behind them and use Dylan’s blowgun.”

  “That’ll take what, an hour? More? If
Justav hasn’t broke camp yet, he surely will soon. We don’t have time.” Xan tore from Brant’s grasp.

  “Then we’ll avoid the road altogether and skirt through the woods.”

  Xan shook his head. “Still too slow. Trust me. I can do this fast and without killing anyone.” He met Brant’s eyes, pleading.

  “Okay. Go.”

  Xan would be the hero—or the goat. How was he going to get through the ambush? Why had he said he could? Distance and dense foliage thwarted his efforts to find hidden figures in the woods. He couldn’t stop what he couldn’t see. Crap, even if he could see them, what could he do?

  Think. Everyone was counting on him. They had to get through fast.

  Burn everything. The woods. The sentry. Kill everyone in his path. Xan climbed atop Honey.

  The guardsman in the middle of the road rubbed his ears and cheeks. Such a human gesture to fend off the cold. Someone’s son. Xan sighed. There had to be something he could do that didn’t involve killing. He patted his arms against the chill. The heat from the horse’s body penetrated his pants. At least his legs were warm.

  Wait. Considering his success with the porridge, could he scan for heat like he could with fires? He quested with magic. Four areas were warmer than the surroundings—two in the trees on the right, one in the brush to the left, and around the man in the road.

  Xan had them, but the problem remained as to what to do with them. His mind spun. If he could drop the archers’ body temperature low enough, he could incapacitate them without killing them. But he couldn’t directly pull heat from them.

  He could, however, from objects around them.

  Xan willed the temperature of the ground around one of the archers to drop. The trick was to figure out how much. Too little and he’d end up a pincushion. Too much and he’d kill the man.

  Heat rushed from the surroundings into the ground, and Xan kept pulling until the entire area was well below ambient temperature before moving on to each of the two other archers in turn. Once the last of Xan’s friends rode from the stable, he urged Honey into a gallop. “Follow me!”

  The guardsman in the center of the road drew his sword. “Stop in the name of the king!”