Ascendant

by Craig Alanson

  The horse whinnied like a pony, and craned its neck to look up at him. "You and me, boy, you and me, right to the end." Koren said softly, and when he looked in the horse's eye, he had the odd feeling that the animal understood him. Surely that was not possible? Thunderbolt winked slowly, tossed his head, and reared up on his back legs, as if eager to get going.

  He was surprised that he was able to ride all the way down, through the field, splashing across the stream and up to the castle, without any alarm being raised by the enemy. What he had expected was to see soldiers running out, or to hear an arrow whistling past his ear. Everyone inside the castle must be focused on the battle between the wizards; this close to the castle walls, the burnt, rotten-egg sulphur smell of wizard fire was overpowering, and the flashes of light were intense enough to leave spots swimming before his eyes. As Thunderbolt galloped up the gentle slope toward the ruined gate, Koren could feel the horse's muscles quiver with excitement, or fear, or both. With a sharp snort, the horse gathered himself and sprung into the air, to leap over a large stone block, and into what used to be the courtyard of what Koren now realized used to be a fortress, not any rich nobleman's castle. Scattered around the courtyard were large stone blocks, and piles of smaller stones.

  There was a flash of wizard fire, illuminating the courtyard with harsh red light, exposing all to Koren's eyes. And exposing him. He reined Thunderbolt to a halt behind a large pile of stones, and for a moment, everyone froze.

  Across the courtyard, taking shelter behind stones, were enemy soldiers. Bodies of a half dozen other soldiers were laying on the ground, bodies scorched by wizard fire. Some looked as if they had tried to climb the walls to shoot arrows down at Paedris, but from the broken and scorched bodies of the dead, the others must have realized that was a foolish idea. Behind other stones in the middle of the courtyard were two enemy wizards, only two. A blackened and cracked pile of stones nearby must have been where the third enemy wizard met his end. With shock, Koren realized Paedris must have sent a blast of wizard fire through a block of stone, to kill that wizard. He had no idea Paedris was so powerful, the court wizard so rarely showed his true abilities.

  And there was Paedris himself, huddled behind two large stones. No, not huddled, he was slumped over, looking tired and lost. His purple robes were blackened, his face shown with sweat in the moonlight, and his hands shook. But what Koren saw in the court wizard's face when their eyes met was not fear, but shock. Complete shock, not at a rescuer appearing, but that his rescuer was Koren. They had only a split second to exchange a glance, horror showing in Paedris' face, when everything happened at once.

  The enemy wizards quickly recovered from their surprise at the unexpected arrival of Koren, the one to the left reached back with one hand and began gathering a fireball to throw. But Koren was faster, so fast he was barely aware of what he was doing. In one motion, he slid off Thunderbolt, had an arrow nocked on the bowstring before he realized his arm had even reached back into the quiver. Then the arrow was flying on its way toward the wizard; before Koren's feet touched the ground, two other arrows followed it, all flying straight and true. It was like living in a dream where the world moved so slowly as to be almost frozen. Koren could clearly see the three arrows tracking in on the wizard, the arrows seeming to be suspended on invisible strings in the air, see that wizard's ugly, scarred face change from anger to shock to fear. The hand that had been gathering a fireball flexed open, letting the fireball dissipate to nothingness, while the other hand swept the wizard's staff up, up into the path of the first arrow. The first arrow was barely knocked aside, its sharp tip slicing the wizard's shoulder as it flew by. The second arrow was well and truly blocked, the staff by now up in the front of the wizard, his lips moving rapidly, chanting a spell; the second arrow sprang aside directly to the left of the direction it had been flying.

  But the third arrow-

  The third arrow bored in, relentless, unstoppable. Koren's vision was so clear, in the slowed time, that he could see the feathers of the fletching at the rear of the arrow waving slightly, as they guided the shaft through the air. The sharp tip shone brightly in the moonlight. The wizard's lips froze in mid-chant as he realized to his terror that he would not have time to deflect this arrow, that he, mighty mage of Acedor, was about to be struck by an arrow, a weapon used by lowly soldiers. An arrow, of all things!

  And then the third arrow struck, struck with a solid thunking sound, piercing the wizard's robes, slicing into and through the wizard until even the feathers were half buried in the man's chest. The man half rose up in utter shock, turning toward the other enemy wizard, who was equally shocked, shock so deeply as to be beyond belief. The stricken man's hand released his staff to fall toward the ground, and touched the back end of the now blood-soaked arrow which protruded from his chest. His fingertips had no more than brushed the arrow, when he was incinerated by a searingly bright blue fireball.

  Paedris had not been sitting idly by as Koren fought. Taking advantage of the enemy wizard's surprise and weakness, and exposure from rising up from behind the stone, the court wizard of Tarador had flung a fireball at the enemy who had besieged him for countless hours.

  "Koren!" Paedris shouted, his voice hoarse from weakness and thirst. "You idiot! Get out of here!"

  "No! I came to rescue you!" Koren shouted, as he slapped Thunderbolt on the rump, and the horse bolted away, startled.

  Paedris' heart sank, and he felt icy cold with fear. The enemy had set a trap for him, a trap to kill or capture Tarador's court wizard. Now, because a young man was far more brave than sensible, the enemy might unknowingly destroy Tarador's true greatest weapon, or worse, capture Koren! The remaining enemy wizard could not have missed the astonishing fact that the boy who suddenly appeared in their midst must be a wizard; no one else could possibly have killed a mage of Acedor with a mere arrow. No one but a wizard could have set three arrows in flight before the first was halfway to its target. How could Koren have been so stupid? Why could he not follow orders, or had the two soldiers Paedris instructed to keep Koren safe failed in their duty? All these thoughts raced through Paedris' mind in a flash, and then there was no time for thought, because the enemy struck back, and time slowed again.

  As Koren reached back for another arrow, it was his turn to be stricken with fear. The last enemy wizard had seen an opportunity in the brief second while Koren and Paedris had shouted to each other. An opportunity for a desperate attack; an angry red fireball was already streaking through the air toward Koren.

  Koren's right hand, which had been reaching back for an arrow, turned to flash in front of his face, palm outward in an instinctive, and futile, last gesture of the doomed. Out of the corner of his eye, Koren could see Paedris' mouth open in terror as the old wizard shouted "Nooooooooooo!" and then Koren cringed, closed his eyes and prepared to die. The fireball struck, enveloping Koren in searing heat-

  -and washed over and around him. The fireball flowed around Koren like he was a rock and the ball of fire was a fast-flowing stream. It parted around him, rejoining into a single ball of flame behind him, and slammed into the stone wall. Stone chips exploded outward in a violent explosion and Koren ducked, flinging himself to the ground. Sharp shards of stone pelted him, inflicting numerous small cuts through his clothing.

  If the enemy wizard has been shocked by the death of his fellow mage, that did not compare to his utter incomprehension that Koren had survived the most powerful fireball the wizard was capable of throwing. Survived, it appeared, without even scorching the boy's tangled mess of hair. Unable to speak, or really even to think, the enemy wizard stood halfway up, to gape at the boy, who was now pushing himself to his knees, shaking his head. From behind a pair of stones rose up the man who had been the Acedor raiding force's prey; the powerful court wizard of Tarador.

  The two adversaries locked eyes for an instant, as the mage of Acedor gestured toward Koren, his mouth forming a silent question. No wizard could survive being struck
by a fireball; a powerful wizard like Paedris could knock a fireball aside, or block it to splash in front of him, but no one could survive being struck by searing magical fire. Not even, thought the mage, his own dark Master. That boy-

  could the boy

  possibly

  be-

  Paedris nodded, in answer to the question. "Yes." He said simply, then reached down deep inside himself, gathered his last remaining strength, and the last enemy wizard disappeared in a blaze of blue fire.

  "Paedris!" Koren shouted, as he watched the wizard sink to his knees, and fall face-down in the dirt and weeds that covered the ground of the old courtyard.

  The enemy soldiers, cowering in fear and dismay after their three mages were burnt to a crisp, had regained a bit of their courage. Although, courage was not needed, since many soldiers of Acedor were under a compulsion, and that magical urge now reasserted itself. While Koren was straining to lift the wizard onto the kneeling horse, one soldier worked up the nerve to quickly glance above the pile of rocks he was hiding behind. What he saw emboldened him, and he motioned to his fellows. He saw the wizard of Tarador, unconscious or nearly so, and the boy. By themselves. The boy had survived a fireball, but surely that was the work of the Taradoran wizard, and not the boy? He looked like merely an ordinary boy. One boy, and there were eight veteran soldiers of Acedor arrayed against him.

  Koren's first notion that the enemy was back was an arrow that just missed his head, barely missed because he had reflexively ducked his head aside at the last second. He had heard the whistle of the arrow in flight, or the twanging sound of a bowstring, or had it been something else? With a last desperate heave, he managed to get Paedris on the back of Thunderbolt, and he spun to face the enemy. He had only a split second to batter aside another arrow with his bow, and dodge a third, before he could nock an arrow of his own, and let it fly. A second arrow was on its way to another target before the first arrow had reached halfway across the courtyard, and the first arrow was traveling at blazing speed.

  The enemy soldier who had been boldest paid the price for his actions, for he had been reaching for another arrow, when Koren's first missile caught him square in the chest, flinging him backwards to sprawl, instantly dead, across a pile of stones. Koren's second target had the good fortune, or sense, to drop down as soon as he had loosed his own poorly-aimed arrow. But Koren's second arrow still hit the top of the enemy's helmet with enough force to slam his face into a stone and make stars appear in his eyes.

  "Koren, no! You must, you must get away. Everything depends on it. We are lost if-" Paedris muttered feverishly, almost in a whisper. Seeing Koren survive being struck by a fireball had not only shocked Paedris to his core, it terrified him. If Koren was that unimaginably strong now, what would he be when he gain his full powers? And could anyone control such power?

  "Shhhh, quiet, sir, you mustn't strain yourself, you're weak with fever." Koren was afraid for the wizard's life, the man's pulse was weak and alternately racing and slow. He could not imagine the effort it had taken for Paedris to fight off, then kill, three enemy wizards. If the enemy had invaded Tarador to set a trap for the court wizard, they must have sent three of their most powerful wizards. That Paedris survived was a miracle, and now his life hung by a thread. Koren tied a strap across the wizard, to hold him onto the horse, and then grasped the bridle to look Thunderbolt in the eyes. "I don't know if Paedris had cast a spell on you, too, or if it is something else, but I think you can understand me somewhat. You need to carry Paedris out of here, fast as you can, get back to the road and go north, toward home. I'll follow you as I can," Koren added as he heard a clatter of stones announcing the enemy soldiers were again looking for an opportunity to attack. "Now, go!" Koren shouted, and swatted Thunderbolt on the rump. The horse took two steps forward, stopped, turned to look back at Koren, tossed his head, and was gone, leaping over the half-buried stone of the ruined gate.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Koren wrinkled his nose before stepping into the water, breaking the solid green scum of algae on top. The water was disgusting, and smelled worse, but he could not see any choice. He was trapped, with only two ways out. Forward was the channel of water, the surface of the water a good two feet below the roof of the ancient drainage channel where Koren stood, but the roofstones of the vault sloped down and disappeared under the water ahead. Behind him were enemy troops, with plenty of arrows, swords, spears, and most important, a cask of oil, and torches to light it. When Paedris escaped, Koren discovered he had only two arrows left in his quiver, and although those two arrows claimed two enemy soldiers, there were many of the enemy left, far more than Koren expected. Right after Thunderbolt carried the wizard away, several soldiers had blocked the gap in the wall where the gate used to be, cutting off Koren's escape route. And although Koren's fighting skills were more than a match for two, or even three, enemy soldiers, they had arrows, and he didn't. He quickly found himself taking hasty shelter behind a stone, with no way out. After an arrow got through his guard and made a shallow cut in his leg, he decided he needed to dash for the wall, or he would be trapped there, and worn down eventually. As he got up onto the balls of his feet to run for freedom, he planted the tip of his sword into the soil for balance, and was surprised to see the sword sink into the soft ground. Digging with the sword, he discovered that he wasn't crouched on the ground at all, he was on the rotted remnants of a wood hatch that covered an old drainage channel, like the old, blocked-off vault under the Cornerstone chamber in Linden. He had tugged the crumbling hatch aside enough to squeeze through, hoping to follow the channel out to where it surely must run into the stream outside the walls.

  And now he was certainly well and truly trapped. The enemy had taken a long time to learn that Koren wasn't still crouched behind the stone, then they had quickly discovered the hole leading down to the drainage channel, when the first soldier stepped on the rotted wood, and fell through. Since then, pairs of soldiers had taken turns going down into the channel, but because Koren was able to take shelter behind rocks that had fallen from the ceiling, the enemy was not able to use arrows with any effect. And the channel wasn't tall enough to stand up in, which made sword fighting impractical. After Koren's sword chopped the points off a couple spears, the enemy had retreated above ground, to shout insults down at Koren, some of them in the harsh, guttural language of Acedor, but enough in the common tongue that Koren could understand. Even if he didn't know the language, Koren could have figured that the enemy soldiers were not shouting words of encouragement to him, or offering food and fresh water. When they grew tired of shouting insults, the enemy had stopped to think, and that is when the trouble really started for Koren. Two of the soldiers had small casks of oil with them, why Koren didn't know, although it was likely for some evil rites the mages of Acedor used to practice their foul magics. One soldier had come down into the channel, rolling a cask before him, and then had pulled out the stopper, letting the oil out. Because the channel sloped downward toward Koren, the oil was now flowing in his direction, forming a thick sheen on top of the water. He could barely see there, underground, only the light of the enemy's torches above and moonlight came weakly down through the hole Koren had 'escaped' through. It was clear that the enemy would soon toss a flaming torch down into the channel, and set the oil on fire.

  So, Koren inched forward, until his head scraped the top of the chamber, and the water was up to his nose. He tilted his head up, breathed in as deeply as he could. His only hope was to swim, or crawl, down the channel to where it emptied into the stream. If the old channel wasn't blocked along the way.

  What Koren didn't know, as he took one last breath and slipped beneath the water, was that the enemy had found the other end of the channel where it emptied into the stream, and had three soldiers positioned there, ready to strike if he ever made it that far.

  Koren hadn't heard any sounds from enemy soldiers for what he judged was several hours now; by the color of the light, he guessed t
he sun was setting. He had never made it to the end of the channel at the stream, the way was blocked by the collapsed roof of the channel, and by thick roots. After a few seconds of trying to squeeze by the roots, with his air running out and blood pounding in his ears, he had turned around to see flickering orange light behind him. The enemy had set the oil on fire, he could not return. He lay on his back in the water, about to accept his fate, when his eyes caught the faintest glimmer of light above him. Clawing his way upward with his bare hands, he found a narrow tunnel which led to the surface, barely enough room for his face so that he could breathe. Air! He had air. And cover, for while enemy soldiers had walked the length of the channel above the ground, stabbing downward with the spears and shouting insults, they had not discovered Koren's hiding place. Toward morning, when sunlight filtered down through the hole, Koren realized that a long time ago, a tree had grown over the channel, and grown large, its roots seeking the water below. Eventually, the roots had collapsed the roof of the channel, then later, the tree must have blow over in a storm. The hole Koren was in was where a root had rotted away. Working slowly and quietly, he had managed to gouge out a space big enough for his head, neck and one arm, the rest of his body was submerged in the water, and he was chilled to the bone. Also hungry, and thirsty. He knew better than to drink stagnant water, he could still smell the stink of the green scum of algae that lay on top of the water. A brief rainshower before dawn, with water streaming down the roots into his parched mouth, was the only water he'd drunk since he left the royal army, the night before.