Shades Of Glory

by Justin Sloan

  Volney nodded. “Understood.”

  And then he waved a hand to cast a spell that made the man think he’d just been yelling at a cat. The man blinked, looked down at Volney’s feet and added, “And if you want warm milk, you go to the back door and wait like everyone else,” before turning with a dazed look and walking off.

  Did you sense her? Volney asked. Before, I mean—the sorceress from Stirling.

  You think she’ll notice?

  I’m going to just keep walking and hope not.

  Unless… A long pause followed, and then Larick’s voice came again. She might be our best bet at this, at least that I can think of.

  Volney sighed and thought, I hate you sometimes. He doubled back until he saw her in a hallway conversing with a man in long purple robes.

  Focusing, he leaned back out of sight and reached out mentally.

  The barrage of images was almost unbearable. Men, women, and children being attacked, killed, and more. He wanted to block it out, but he needed answers. A woman in gold, magic flowing around her in a spiral of light and dark, and she was laughing as sorcerers bowed to her, then she was somewhere else, a man’s corpse lay before her, and she was furious. Explosions, deaths, and this woman, a nobody at the time, being promoted to replace all who had fallen in the wake of their leader’s wrath. Their goddess.

  Yet she wasn’t here at all. Someone had implanted her image there, which explained why Larick hadn’t picked up on her presence.

  But where? Somewhere south… And more of the plan came to him, but it was like being taunted with an evil laugh. There was the group that had followed the paladins…someone with immense power, robes billowing in the wind. But who? He couldn’t see. Her mind wouldn’t let him, it was blocked, it wasn’t her at all, it was…AHHH!

  He collapsed, screaming as the mental attack hit him.

  Get out of there! Larick’s mental voice yelled. Already he could feel his fellow mystic’s powers working to confront the attack, wherever it was coming from.

  It was Her. Their goddess. Coming for him.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Larick wasn’t just going to leave Volney in there with the sorceress. For some time now he’d been trying to mentally enter, to find Volney and help him, but it was as if a massive mental wall blocked the way.

  That left his fighting skills, which were lacking, or his ability to run. He considered turning and making for the clans, but what would they do? Send their people here before they were ready, only to be slaughtered?

  He had no choice but to go after his friend.

  All Larick could think as he ran into the manor grounds was, SHIT SHIT SHIT. Somehow they had gotten to Volney. And he was running into the lion’s mouth, as it were, instead of going off to warn the others. But even if he went back to the clans, what could he say? He knew nothing to help them, just that there was still a mystic or something like one working with the enemy.

  He leaped over a fence and put his magic to work, disguising himself as a regular guard. It wouldn’t pass inspection, but right now he just needed to get close. It also hit him that Volney had been trying to reach into someone’s mind when they got to him. This might have left him vulnerable, especially since Larick hadn’t felt the presence of the woman, only seen her through his connection with Volney. If she wasn’t there at all, she must’ve been bait for Volney to open his mind and be susceptible to attack.

  In order to prevent that, Larick put up a wall within his own mind. He refused to let the same happen to him. He knew where his friend had been when the attack happened, and for now he would just have to go at it the old-school way—he’d find him by searching. Mental probes would risk too much.

  A group of soldiers was moving out and one turned to shout at him, “They got ‘em cornered! Master Irdin has ‘em trapped like pigs in a sty!”

  “I’ll grab my sword and catch up!” he replied, glad he’d forgotten to add the sword as part of the illusion, and equally glad that the others were running too, occupied with reaching their destination.

  It hit him then that what the soldier had said meant his friends were likely under attack. If it was at Master Irdin’s hand, that could be very bad. First things first. Rescue Volney, get the hell out of there, and then go after the soldiers and try to save as many of their new friends as possible.

  He was starting to very much dislike the Lost Isles, and wondered how life was back in the areas around Arcadia. Maybe after this he’d return there and just be done with it all. Find a nice plot of land far away from everything and retire.

  No way. He’d miss chatting with Volney too much for that.

  Ducking past the barracks, he paused as a mental force hit him just outside the manor. He cringed, then heard shouting and saw armed men running toward him. His hesitation had revealed him as one who could feel the mental projections, and therefore he had given himself away to the soldiers. But he wasn’t going down like that.

  VOLNEY! he mentally shouted. This is it, brother. Me and you, together. We can beat this!

  What came back was the equivalent of a thousand screams of torment, with one hushed voice mixed in. He had to focus to hear it, but it was there. Volney was whispering, calling for him… He wasn’t defeated yet.

  Larick ran straight at the soldiers, projecting a large fire-breathing dragon in front of himself. The soldiers faltered, some falling backwards as they tried to scamper away. One made it through, dodging the dragon and lunging with his sword, but finding only thin air.

  With a kick to the soldier’s legs Larick knocked him to the ground, picking up the man’s sword as he passed. He was past the others before the first spell came from a ledge above, slamming right into him.

  Rather, it slammed into the projection of himself he had created three paces to his right. He felt the heat of the flames singe the ground as he went through the doors.

  Fight NOW! he mentally shouted to Volney, and heard distant agreement—no words, just a feeling, a sensation. They were close now, close enough that their magic would feed each other and connect in the way it needed to if they hoped to be free of this.

  He pulled, lifting his friend out of his mental quagmire, the swampy land of death that was their opponent’s mental trap.

  And then he was there, his voice coming through as clear as day—RUN!

  Wait, no… It wasn’t in his mind.

  He spun, and heard it clearly this time.

  “RUN!” Volney shouted, staggering down the hall toward him. “DAMMIT, GO!”

  Larick stared in shock as the doors behind his friend opened to reveal four magicians and a woman all in gold stepping up behind them. The shadows intensified at the same time the lights flared. It was impossible, which made it even more terrifying.

  Only, Larick was a better mystic than that—he could tell when a trick was being played on him, and who his friend was or wasn’t. The man running at him wasn’t Volney.

  He pushed aside the mystic’s sword thrust so that it impaled itself in the man’s chest and then he ran, but not away. He ran toward them, and now that their evil mystic was dying on the floor behind him, he smiled. This would be much more fun.

  Volney appeared behind them, the two mystics making eye contact and working on their mental assault of the woman in gold at the same time.

  She staggered back screaming, and the shadows and light pulled back together at the same time. Her problem was the same as for many with great powers. Hubris. She was overly confident in herself and her underlings, always undervaluing her competition.

  Perhaps she was partially right, Larick thought as the first wave of one of her sorcerer’s magic hit him in the form of a gust of wind, slamming him back against the wall as another sorcerer called on fire, hands circling and conjuring a wall of flame.

  Volney shielded himself with his robes, but it wasn’t enough. They caught fire, and it broke his attention. The woman in gold moved in a flash of shadow and was at his side as her other magicians turned on Volney, bu
t Larick was trained well.

  He sent a vision of the others trapped in a box of metal, the walls closing in on them.

  It wouldn’t last long, he knew. They would process it for what it was, then cast magic in all directions and inevitably hit him. But human instinct would force them to react at first, and that would be enough time for Volney and Larick to make a break for it.

  Before the others had mentally returned, the two mystics had plowed through the doors and right past the guards who had only just now processed that there was no dragon. They ran toward the barracks.

  “No, back here,” Volney said, pulling at Larick until they were with the guards. “They don’t have any more mystics; I checked. They had two brothers; one was already killed, and you took care of the second.”

  “She controls the shadows. We can’t hide.”

  “Not we, but…” He waved a hand and become one of the soldiers, blood dripping from his arm, and winked at Larick.

  “Oh, dammit,” Larick said as he followed suit. He knew his friend was right, but he just wanted to be out of there.

  A moment later the shadows convulsed, and with a burst of light the lady in gold was in the courtyard. She waved her hands and shadows tore at the surrounding trees, ripping them from the ground. Then, with a thrust of her hands, a wave of darkness rippled across the ground, causing it to tremble.

  She spun on the soldiers, eyeing them with ferocity. “Find them! Return without their heads or I will have yours!”

  With that she returned to the manor, her sorcerers racing out to begin the hunt.

  “Smart move,” Larick whispered to his friend, and together they joined in the hunt…for themselves.

  At the first chance they got, they made it so anyone who saw them would see only boars charging through the forest, and were off.

  “That was a colossal waste,” Volney commented as they ran, trying to keep his breathing steady but failing miserably.

  “Hardly. We put a hint of fear into her and took out their last mystic, or whatever you call those abominations. I wouldn’t put them in the same camp as us. But more than that, we learned something, or rather, I did.”

  “Do…tell…” His breath was coming harder now, and Volney held up a hand as he slowed to a walk.

  “We have to keep moving.”

  “One minute, then we will. I have…to catch…my breath.”

  Larick nodded, glancing back with a raised eyebrow. “We don’t have to keep moving to outrun them. We just have to reach the lairds and the clansfolk—Kia and them. Master Irdin has already made a move, and the soldiers leaving when I arrived said they were off to join him, that he had our friends surrounded.”

  Volney’s face scrunched into a mixture of frustration and exasperation. “No rest for the just, eh?”

  “Unfortunately, no.”

  “And the other visions? With the king of Gulanri?”

  “One step at a time,” Larick replied. “Master Irdin might be within our reach right now. Gulanri? We’d never make it in time.”

  “Then may the Saint or the spirits or whatever it is that might help be with them.”

  Volney pulled himself up, chest out, and then then picked up the pace again, running with Larick at his side. They could get supplies for the march from the other soldiers, then break off at the last minute. No matter how much they needed to rest and recuperate, their new friends needed them more. These two weren’t about to let them down.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Stone was happy to be here among the clansfolk, whom he had never been fully convinced were evil. It was a relief that the war was underway and true friends were revealed along with true enemies. No more second guessing, no more doubts and guilt.

  He nodded to Tina, who was among the crowd gathered to train. After spending a couple days getting situated and checking defenses, this was their first session, and Stone and the other paladins would be doing the training. There was no doubt the clansfolk knew how to fight, but they were more like brawlers. The paladins had been trained in sword techniques and taught classic defensive maneuvers and counters, and now they would have a very short amount of time to try and teach everything they knew to this hodgepodge of people.

  Tina had heart, at least—he had seen her at Sair Talem, after all. She hadn’t run and cowered. How many of these strong men before him would be able to say the same in that situation, he wondered.

  They walked the crowd through several stances and attack positions, how to hold a sword, how to properly strike, depending on your opponent’s defense. Most of the men and women from the clans weren’t having a problem, but more of the clans, and even some of the paladin protectorates, had sent people as word spread.

  When the trainees had been left on their own to spar or practice their strike patterns, Stone walked over to Oldran, the paladin who had sworn his allegiance to Alastar at Sair Talem.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  Oldran glanced at him and smiled. “I think we have our work cut out for us, but if there’s anyone who can train this lot, it’s us.”

  “I don’t remember you being such an optimist.”

  “You didn’t know me when we were up against such odds. Back then I was double-guessing everything I did. Now? We don’t have room for that.”

  “Aye, I know what you mean.” Stone watched as Tina took on her opponent and landed three good strikes—not hard enough to do damage, but enough to reinforce the training and get muscle memory working.

  “She’s a catch,” Oldran noted. “Saw you two always looking at each other back at the castle, and kind of wondered if you two would ever…you know. Move forward.”

  Stone laughed. “We swore oaths.”

  “Oaths that no longer matter?”

  “Once they turned on Alastar and Rhona, I was done.”

  For a moment Oldran considered him, then he leaned in. “You know, Taland supposedly didn’t stay true to his oaths, if you believe the stories. Let’s just say there was an incident in the baths once, and—”

  “Sorry, but if there’s one man I don’t want to be hearing about right now, it’s him.” Stone and Oldran walked past a young man and Stone took a moment to correct his form, then nodded and moved on, assessing the others. “Did I ever tell you about the time that son of a bitch came on to me?”

  “Wait, what?”

  Stone nodded, lowering his voice. “Threatened to have me kicked out, excommunicated, if I didn’t…well, you don’t need the details. Point is, I told him to bugger off, that if he did any such thing I’d come for him. Not that I’m opposed to the idea of stuff like that, just, it’s not my thing…and the oaths.”

  Oldran smirked. “Had he come to me…”

  “No?”

  With a shrug, Oldran added, “Let’s just say it would’ve been only the oaths holding me back. Of course, that was before we found out what a low-life piece of shite he is. Put him in front of me now, the only thing I’d stick him with is my sword. And I do mean the sharp metal one.”

  “I honestly had no idea.”

  “Well, when this is over, if you know any clansmen who want to show me what they wear under their kilt… Hint, hint.”

  “Hey, I said I have no problem with it. Doesn’t mean I want a visual.”

  Oldran chuckled and held up his hands in surrender. “Deal. I have to ask, though,” he leaned in again, lowering his voice almost to a whisper. “You two… She was your first, then?”

  Stone rolled his eyes, turning away and stopping by a middle-aged woman. “Great job there, but try bringing it up in an arc, then down.” He showed her what he meant with his sword, then watched as she did the same.

  “Not going to tell me?” Oldran asked as they walked on. He nodded. “I can respect that. I think it’s silly, but I can respect it.”

  “Would it be silly if we were discussing your sister? Your mom? Your daughter?”

  “Ouch, low blow.” Oldran backed off, turning to help another woman, then watc
hing two teenage boys sparring. “We’re putting ourselves out of a job, you realize.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Once we dominate those sons of bitches, the war will be over. We don’t know how to farm or any of that. It’s these people who will be the smart ones then, the ones we’ll be begging to teach us a thing or two instead of the other way around.”

  “If being at peace means my skills have no use, if that’s the price to pay, I’ll take it.”

  Oldran was about to respond when shouts came from one of the tunnels, cut off by a gurgling sound and a thud.

  They knew that sound all too well. The sound of death.

  “It’s Master Irdin,” another voice said. This lookout had made it as far as the entrance, where they could see him as an ice spear pierced his heart. He fell to his knees, staring at it in horror.

  “Mages!” Laird Lokane shouted, followed by a similar call to arms by Summers and others a moment later. Already sorcerers were piling in from various tunnels. Magic began shooting off in all directions, and some of the clansfolk charged.

  “Defensive positions, defensive positions!” Stone shouted, Bale and Oldran taking up the call a moment later.

  The charging horde broke off, setting up a defense so the others could all move back to the main building. From there they had escape routes set up—plenty of options—but also a setup for attack. Already arrows were shooting down at the sorcerers from above, sped forward by wind mages. Not all of the fighters who’d charged were caught by ice spears as they ran. A sorcerer had tried for lightning, it seemed, because the air outside lit up and cracked, but it didn’t reach down here.

  Interesting how that worked, Stone thought. He focused on what Alastar had told him, about how this was all supposedly some form of magic he could call on. He just had to believe, or something like that.

  An ice spear nearly caught him, but two of Laird Lokane’s wind mages hit it with a gust that sent it to shatter at his feet.

  “Form a line!” Bale commanded, and the paladins did so—including Stone, even though he had left their ranks before this had all started.