by Aaron Pogue
For a long while I followed the path along this outer wall, marking the location of the Empire Gate that Claighan had mentioned. By my guess I'd have to wait at least half an hour for him to meet up with me, and likely more. So I walked my horse beneath the shade of the trees, keeping out of sight as much as possible, and reveled in the quiet calm of this refuge.
I walked in and out of shadow, felt the warm sunlight wash like waves across my skin, and from time to time heard ripples of a child's laughter break the silence. The path wound around, slowly bending away from the wall, and led me back toward the garden's heart. Suddenly the trees on either side of me gave way and I stepped out into the full afternoon sun, and there directly before me was the shore of the lake. I stopped, astonished, hushed by the lapping of dozens of tiny waves against a stony shore. Here and there along the shore families were stretched out on sheets, eating a picnic lunch beneath the trees or simply enjoying the afternoon.
I turned, fascinated. There to my left, in the far distance, I could see the bridge I'd come across. And to my right, the Great South Bridge that would bring me Claighan. Even as I thought of him, I spotted him riding high on his fine Southern steed. I shook my head, smiling in sudden superiority as I thought how conspicuous he seemed. And then, with that thought, I felt the creeping tension I'd shed come washing back in.
It started as a little worry, but I couldn't shake it. I watched Claighan climb the arch of the bridge, nearly a hundred paces distant, and the hair on the back of my neck tried to stand up. I took a step in his direction and felt a sudden knot of fear in my stomach. Something was very, very wrong.
And then I spotted the guards waiting for him at the foot of the bridge. They wore no uniforms, but I could see it in the way they held themselves. In the way they waited. In the way they watched their enemy approaching. Ambush.
Once I recognized it, I saw the rest. There were two or three more moving along behind him, pretending to be part of the crowd, but they moved in perfect formation, barring any chance of retreat for him. There was another ahead of him, never looking back, but he kept pace with the wizard, and then I spotted another on the other side. They'd be ready to respond if Claighan did something before he reached the ambush, and ready to lend aid if he fell into the trap.
The tension that had been building in my chest exploded into panic. I reached instinctively for a sword I did not have strapped to my belt and darted rapidly toward the bridge. It was too far. Before I could be halfway there, the wizard would be in the midst of their trap. As I watched, two more men stepped out from among the trees to join the two waiting at the foot of the bridge, and I saw hints of movement deeper in back. Fear made my heart a hammer, crushing my ribs and lungs in its sudden pounding. I dropped my horse's reins, dropped my pack, and ran for all I was worth toward the bridge.
And as I ran, I shouted across the great distance. "Look to, Master Wizard! Claighan! Ambush in the gardens!"
I heard an answering snarl, an angry shout. It didn't come from the bridge ahead of me, but from nearby to my right. Too late I tried to turn, and saw a form already blurring toward me. It was another of the guards dressed in plain clothes, and he hit me at a full sprint. He buried his shoulder in my ribs and threw me up and back. I flew through the air and splashed down in the shallow waves of the lakeshore. The river-smoothed stones bruised me where I landed, but they did nothing to slow me. I slid into knee-deep water. The cold was a shock, and I had to throw myself frantically out of the water.
Coughing and sputtering, I whirled, trying to orient myself. The splashing of footsteps nearby helped. I turned that direction, blinked water from my eyes, and just had time to see the wide swing slamming toward my head. I ducked it, faster and more nimble than he had expected me to be, and I danced left of him and swung my right elbow hard into the back of his shoulder. It threw him off-balance, and his momentum carried him down into the water.
I wasn't in the clear, though. Three more soldiers stood four paces back, penning me in. They came slowly closer, waiting to see if their companion could catch me before they stepped into the water. The thought didn't give me much courage. I wasn't nearly a good enough swimmer to try it for an escape. I did consider trying a sprint south. If I could get past the one on my left, I knew I might be able to join the fight near Claighan. Surely he could help me. Before I took my first step, though, I spotted two more guards standing farther back, watching me carefully while they readied heavy crossbows. If I made a run for it, if I broke free, they'd be able to shoot me down without any effort at all.
Distance was against me. Desperate with a sudden panic, I pounded two quick steps through the surf and then threw myself at the guard on my left. My right shoulder crashed hard against his shins and I grappled with him as he fell. I got a fist knotted in the front of his shirt and hauled myself up as he went down. I slammed my free fist hard against his jaw, then dropped the other hand to his belt and closed it around the hilt of his sword.
Then I twisted and got my feet under me. I kicked off hard, throwing myself clear of the stunned guard and taking his sword with me. I flew to my feet, stumbled three quick steps with no kind of balance at all, and crashed into one of the other two guards who had tried to ring me in. I aimed a clumsy blow at his jaw, too, as he started to fall, but he wasn't quite so stunned as the first had been. He brought both arms up, and though he couldn't bring his blade to bear he got in a good shove that flung me on my back.
I swept again into the froth of the chilly waters, and the third swordsman was upon me in an instant. I brought up my stolen sword, trying desperately to defend myself. He grinned down at me, fury in his eyes, and lashed out at me hard with a heavy longsword. I twisted away and snapped my blade up in time to deflect the blow. I aimed a swipe at his midsection to buy a moment's time, then tried to rise. He pressed me hard. I tried to dance aside as I rose and brought my sword to bear, but I still caught the tip of his blade in a long score against my left arm. The cut burned, the blood flowed, and the cold water on my skin stung still more, but I kept moving. I dodged another swing, then met the next with a perfect parry and reversed, slammed the hilt of my sword against the base of his neck. He fell with a splash and lay still as the water washed through the links in his armor.
All of that happened quickly, but the guards still facing me had overcome their surprise and as soon as the one was down, two more were upon me. They seemed cautious, confident in their numbers, and I felt the fear building in me. I retreated steadily before their attack, still ankle deep in the lapping waves, still uncertain on the sandy footing, but I dared not break for the firmer shore because of the crossbowmen waiting there. So I retreated, carefully and slowly, and did everything I could to keep these two men between me and a pair of crossbows built to penetrate plate armor.
The swordsmen quickly grew impatient of my maneuvering, and began attacking with more force. Sweat half-blinded me, wet clothes stuck heavily to my arms and legs, and the two attacked in almost perfect unity. I was good—better than I'd ever really believed—and they were playing careful. Still, they battered me even with the force of the blows I deflected, and I felt my strength giving. Every block or parry came a little slower than the one before; I knew any moment now another cut would get through. I fell back, calf-deep in the waters now, and they followed. A cold wind came dancing off the waters and chilled me despite the heat of combat, and I had to fight sudden shivers.
And then a larger wave smashed against the backs of my knees and I began to topple forward. One of the guards grinned at my falter, but I let the water wash me forward, and just as the wave hit him, I lashed out. My stumble turned the attack so I hit him with the flat of my blade instead of the edge, but it slipped off the armor on his shoulder and crashed hard against the side of his head, sending him sprawling.
But even as I fell forward, the other guard turned to finish me. I kicked out under the water and felt my boot connect with his ankle, and he stumbled back. Grimly I kicked against the sand un
derfoot and scuttled away in the water. I reached down and shoved myself aright as I moved. It was a clumsy maneuver, but I was able to gain my feet while the other swordsman was still cursing his damaged ankle. I almost grinned then, as the fire of battle rushed through me. I took two great, noisy leaps forward, swinging my sword high to finish him, when suddenly a new fire shot through my leg.
In an instant I lost all strength. I fell forward into the chill waters. I looked down as I fell, astonished, and saw water stained black and red around my left calf. A heavy crossbow bolt stood clear against the stony bed of the lake for just a moment before another wash of blood obscured the waters. I slammed down after it.
I fought to rebuild my mental image of the scene, to figure out where I should be. There was still another crossbowman ready to fire, and another swordsman close at hand. I struggled to regain my feet, but panic had me, and I merely splashed about in the water. Pain washed in wave after blinding wave over my torn leg, and mingled with fear and weariness it nearly drove me mad. I fought for control, fought to simply hold still and await death with some dignity, but I kept floundering uselessly.
I felt as much as heard a heavy step splash down beside me. I sucked in a deep breath, though it was half water, and gripped the threaded steel of the sword hilt as if it could preserve me. The tip was buried in the earth beneath me, and I hadn't the strength to wrench it out and into any kind of a block. Not in time. Not with him so close. Not with the threat of a crossbow bolt through my chest if I ducked the wrong direction. At last I fell still, paralyzed by my fear.
Every muscle in my body tensed until my bones creaked, but no blow came. I coughed, sputtering, and waited for the felling stroke. Instead, I felt a bony hand grip my left shoulder, just above the cut, and with surprising strength pull me straight to my feet. I nearly fell again when my leg began to give, but the hand steadied me, kept me upright.
For an instant I simply stood there, breath burning in my lungs, amazed I was still alive. But the wizard's words burned bright in my memory. It will not go well for you if you are caught. This man behind me had shown me some mercy, but I could not afford it. Still tense, I unleashed all my strength like a spring wound to the breaking point. I ripped the sword free of the earth and spun with all my might. The blade flashed up in the air, flinging out a fine spray of water that sparkled in the evening sun. The sword, too, glittered as it soared through a graceful arc and then down. I twisted at the waist and drove the blade home with all my strength.
Something happened, then. Rapidly. I felt invisible cords, bonds, almost casually snake around me. They whispered out around the blade, flowing like the ripple of a little springtime breeze but a heartbeat later they grew firm. They bound me in place like steel. The blade stopped as though I had thrown it against solid stone. I hung in the air, motionless, imprisoned by the air itself. I found myself trapped, helpless, and staring into the surprised eyes of Claighan. It was he who had pulled me from the waters. His robes clung heavy and wet to his legs and a shallow wound spilled blood down his cheek to stain his gray beard. The edge of my stolen sword dripped lakewater onto his collarbone from less than a hand's breadth away.
As I watched the astonished fear in his eyes drained away. I felt the same dizzying blur of emotions: recognition and horror and finally relief that he had stayed my hand. But relief lasted less than a heartbeat. My mental image of the field of battle fell back into place, and I growled at Claighan through the bonds holding me. "Let me go! Now!"
His brows pinched in a frown, but he did not argue. He twitched a finger, and the bonds that held me were gone. I almost fell again into the waters, but I held my feet and forced myself to ignore the pain. There was another crossbowman with an easy aim at Claighan.
I shoved past the wizard to lurch painfully up out of the water and onto the shore. Three long paces brought me face to face with the crossbowman. I had the sword stretched out before me, ready to strike, but there was no need. The crossbowman stood frozen, an arrow half-drawn, trapped in the same bonds that had held me a moment before.
I turned back to Claighan and nearly fell again. The immediate danger past, my strength went out of me, and it was all I could do to stand upright against the pain in my injured leg. The wizard took several hurried steps up out of the waters and came up to take my weight on his frail shoulder. Again I was surprised by the old man's strength.
"You saved me," I said. "How did you escape the ambush?"
Claighan didn't answer me. Instead he turned me from under my shoulder and pointed back toward my horse. He started me walking, and I had to grind my teeth at every step to keep from screaming. I felt the wizard tense beneath my arm, too, responding to my pain. We made it three paces, then he said with sadness in his voice, "They beat us to Gath."
In spite of myself I chuckled at the comment. "Yes, Claighan, but we beat them at Gath. We won!" Claighan shook his head, his expression grave. He started to answer, but the heavy sound of steel on stone drew our attention to the south bridge behind us. I craned my neck and saw more soldiers hurrying into the gardens. These wore the full uniform of the King's Guard, and they immediately began forcing their way through the trees toward us. A crossbow bolt buried itself in the wet earth several paces away, then another a pace closer.
I looked at Claighan. I pulled away from him to free my arm and raised my sword against the distant attackers.
Behind me, Claighan clucked in irritation. "No more killing, Daven. You've done enough evil for the sake of my plans. There are other ways." I heard him sigh, but in an instant he cried out in a thunderous voice three quick words that melted from my mind. And then he began a more complicated chant, arms waving in slow circles.
I had some guess what he was about, and with a desperate motion I flung myself forward and grabbed the strap of my traveling pack. I reached for the reins of my horse, too, but before I got there I felt the air around me grow tense, as though lax strings had once again been drawn tight around me. The sensation was more violent this time—the threads seemed to slice into me, heat and darkness exploding in my head. A piercing tension flooded my skull, and then a soft white light washed across my vision and I saw a tall, rectangular doorway standing in the open air before me.
"One step will take you to refuge, Daven. Find your safety! Go!" Despite his insistence, despite the pressure on my soul, I hesitated. The soldiers were too close, and I could see at least one of them lifting a heavy crossbow to his shoulder. I tried to cry out the danger, tried to argue with the old wizard, but he planted a hand between my shoulder blades and shoved, and I fell forward through the light.
Somewhere far, far away I heard the twang of a bowstring, heard an old man's cry of pain, but time and terrain washed up around me like the gentle waves of the lake. They eddied slowly around my dazzled mind then pulled away, faded, and left me in darkness.
In the blink of an eye I left Gath-upon-Brennes far behind.
6. The Academy
Light and darkness faded back together again, melted into each other and settled on normal patterns. Slowly color returned and with it my senses. I lay sprawled in a dusty courtyard, sick patches of dry grass here and there about me, but the ground beneath me packed so hard the dirt seemed one great paving stone. Rather than trying to stand, I rolled over onto my back and saw a massive pair of doors towering high above me, set in a stone wall some forty feet tall that stretched off to the right and left. The doors reached nearly to the top, set in a great pointed arch and every inch of them covered with runes and mystic symbols. For a moment I thought I saw an image in the etchings, a great white dome arching high against a green field, but in an instant the image faded and left behind only carvings in wood.
As I lay resting, staring up at the afternoon sky, I could still feel a strange tension in the air, an uneasiness that pointed like an arrow to the north and west. The sensation lay heavy on me, and in my mind I saw clearly the gardens I had just left, the guards standing stupefied just feet away, but my eyes
told me I was elsewhere, and a shake of my head dispelled the garden and the soldiers with it.
I heard the rapid slap of shoes against the hardened earth and craned my neck to see half a dozen old men sprinting awkwardly toward me, fingers grasping at the air while they ran as though they could feel the invisible cords. One of them darted in the lead, tall and thin and clothed all in black. His eyes were dark beneath a frowning brow, and his hair hung in black waves nearly to his shoulders. He approached me directly, pointed a long finger in my face and barked, "Stranger, how dare you intrude here!"
From my side, down by the ground, a weak voice coughed then said, "Let be, Seriphenes." Claighan had made it through. I felt a wash of hope, but a stab of breathless pain immediately drove it away. Claighan groaned and said, "This boy is with me. You would not challenge me yet, would you?" The dark gaze of Seriphenes stabbed just as sharp as the pain in my leg, his scowl only deepening as he turned it toward Claighan.
"This bloody lump is Claighan?" Seriphenes said. His voice was nearly a whisper, dark with ominous portent. He took a slow, careful breath, then turned and said in a more neutral tone, "It is Claighan who has come so precipitously into our midst. He is injured apparently, so any trial must wait—"
Another of the old men interrupted Seriphenes. "A trial?" He nearly laughed, but the look he shot Seriphenes was stern and chastising. "He clearly acted out of need, and that we may forgive. Archus!" A young man who had been lurking at Seriphenes's side suddenly looked up, scowling. "Archus, help Claighan inside and take him to the priest. He will need attention, and quickly."
The words gripped at my heart, and I rolled onto my side to get a look at Claighan. He sprawled on the ground next to me, one arm pinned beneath him and a leg bent awkwardly to the side, and with a small pool of blood collecting beneath his ribs. His robes were torn on the left side, below his chest.
