by Guy Antibes
Riders coming from the west,” the innkeeper said.
Sam asked Plantian and Greto what they should do.
“I’d say we surrender,” Greto said. “We are caught between the new column and the old. If there are too many, they will overwhelm us.”
“I disagree,” Plantian said. “All the ward-making has gotten to me. I can make a few more, but then I’ll be so weary I won’t be able to send an arrow more than a few feet.”
Greto looked at the horses. “Perhaps we should go cross-country.”
Sam didn’t like the idea, so he looked around. “What about that stand of trees?” If worse came to worst, Sam could ward the trees and keep the soldiers from getting too far inside.
They found an opening and moved the wagons inside. Sam looked up and down the road. The eastern riders would be the ones from the direction of Greto’s inn. Sam might have considered surrendering, but if Viktar Kreb had assassins out looking for them, he doubted the Vaarekians would parlay in good faith.
“I will unhitch the horses,” Sam said. “As a last resort, we can ride south.”
“I will do that,” Greto said. “You do whatever it is you are doing with wards. Both of you are well beyond me.”
“Then let’s quickly sort what we must have with us when we leave,” Sam said. He looked both ways, and the new riders from the west still looked like they would arrive first. He stood in the road and was about to set down wards when he looked towards the approaching soldiers and stopped. He was sure Desmon Sandal was in the lead.
“They might not be Vaarekian,” Sam said. “Get the wagons hitched up and put them in the middle of the road.”
Greto and Plantian did as Sam said, while he stood in the middle of the road, sword and wand strapped to his waist and a quiver full of arrows, ready to do battle in the white armor only he could see.
Sam drew his sword and raised it into the air, waving it at Desmon as the wagons were moved into place.
“What are you doing here?” Desmon said, stopping his horse. “We go to fight invading Vaarekians.”
“And aren’t you invading Vaarekians?” Sam asked.
“Vaarekians, Trakatans, Ristarians, and even some Zogazin. Banna has been busy for the past few years making alliances. Not with governments, but with other groups who refuse to take money from Viktar Kreb to betray their people.”
Sam wondered how much of her money had gone to the other groups, but it didn’t matter.
“A sizeable chunk of your enemy is on its way here. We decided to make a stand.”
Desmon looked back at Plantian who waved.
“They are friends!” Desmon shouted to the force behind him. “We will fight a battle here.”
Sam grinned. “I thought we were out of good options,” he said. “We were going to give the Vaarekians a bit of a surprise and then flee across the fields.”
“How did you get them to chase you?” Desmon said. Other officers were ordering the soldiers catching Desmon’s gaze as he and Sam talked.
“We forced our way through the village they took over and sprinkled mischief along our way. Remember Banna’s arrows fighting the pirates?”
Desmon looked at Plantian. “He can make them?”
“He is a pollen magician, remember?”
“Perhaps we can turn them back, eh?” Desmon clapped his hands on Sam’s shoulder. He furrowed his brow. “What is this, invisible armor?”
“It is,” Sam said.
“There is a story here?”
“For after we fight.” Sam turned to see the soldiers in arrow range. “It’s time to get busy.”
Sam pulled an arrow out of the quiver and spelled a ward on the tip and let it fly. He looked at Desmon out of the corner of his eye to see his reaction to the explosion.
“Gods of Wollia! Plantian is working his magic!”
Sam nodded, grinned, and sent a succession of arrows towards the enemy. His aim was still awful, but he only needed to get close. Many horses bucked, threw their riders off, and bolted, but more rode through Sam’s barrage. It was apparent to him that Desmon might have had a hard time against so many Vaarekians.
The soldiers were beginning to get in Plantian’s range, so both of them began to shoot arrows at the soldiers. The Vaarekian line stopped about fifty paces from the wagons.
“Our turn,” Desmon said. He raised his hand, and the rebel group began to file past the wagons and attack the disrupted Vaarekians.
A riderless Vaarekian horse stopped not far from Sam. He mounted and followed Desmon into battle. Fighting from horseback was different from dueling, but Sam managed to use his sword at least as well as anyone he faced.
The Vaarekians had lost their advantage to wards before they clashed with Desmon’s group, and towards the end, a few soldiers began to surrender as more fled back to the east. Sam knew the Vaarekians had hours of riding to reach their camp.
“Aren’t you going to pursue them?” Plantian asked, looking up at Desmon and Sam, who were still mounted.
Another officer joined them. He shook his head. “We have more troops heading this way. Our group was to gauge the enemy’s strength and return to the force that is half-a-day behind us.”
“We can do more than that,” Plantian said. “Why don’t we go here,” he pointed to the road leading back to Vaarek north of the village, “and give them a surprise when they retreat?”
Greto had listened in. “It’s the kind of Zogazin joke I am more than willing to give my new enemy.” Sam didn’t see how that was a joke at all. Greto was the least humorous Zogazin he had ever met.
“Then I will send a few of my men west and tell the others of our plans,” the officer said.
~
Greto led them along the road until they reached the closest clusters or wards on the trail. Horses and men lay scattered about the road. Desmon called a halt and consulted Sam’s map, dragging the horses and laying out the dead men along the side.
“We leave the main road here,” Greto said. He moved his finger to the pollen spot he had made on the map. “The land rolls, but we should reach there before the Vaarekians do and set up some defenses.”
Sam nodded. “Then let’s go,” he said.
They numbered more than fifty soldiers. Plantian elected to stay behind to provide a warded defense if the Vaarekians decided to return up the road. Sam thought Plunk looked tired, anyway.
About halfway to their position, Desmon rode at Sam’s side. “The story?”
Sam’s armor had already begun to soften, so he had sloughed it off earlier.
“I had an operation. I nearly died, but the healers at the Order of Ren discovered a nodule on my spine, and then they put gold on it to see what that would do. My body was flooded with so much pain I fainted, and while I was unconscious, they removed the nodule. I lost all feeling below that point. It was awful to think I would never be able walk or be normal again, but my body heals fast, as you know, and within three weeks, I was walking. We made the discovery that the nodule kept me from producing pollen. Since then, I have become the pollen magician Banna Plunk thought I might be.”
“But it is invisible. How do you do that?”
Sam smiled. “My curse wasn’t completely removed. My body still rejects pollen, even the stuff I make. I can see it, but no one else can unless they use gold-tinted spectacles.”
“So now you are more dangerous.”
Sam laughed. “I’ve never been any more dangerous than anyone.”
“Those warded arrows were your wards, weren’t they? Banna said she had taught you all she knew, and you were one of the few who could see inside a ward.”
“Maybe I am a little more dangerous,” Sam said.
Desmon punched his shoulder, knocking Sam off his horse. “Where is your armor?”
Sam brushed himself off and re-mounted, rubbing his shoulder. “It softened, so I tossed it. You hit me, and it hurt!”
Desmon tilted back his head and laughed. “You still surprise, e
ven now. Tell me about Hizor.”
Sam shivered and told him about all the pressure to be jovial amidst all the social pressure he had to bear. “I was more than happy to leave the capital and travel to the far end of Zogaz to meet with the Order. I didn’t know what they had in store for me. I’m still not sure if I would go through the agony when they excited the nodule on my back.”
“That’s it? How did you become adept at wards so quickly?”
Sam made a face and shook his head. “All the training that Banna gave me was to make me a pollen expert without the capability to make pollen. I had the knowledge I needed, so I just needed practice. It came much easier than I thought after I got used to pollen objects appearing in front of me.”
“Dangerous. Extremely dangerous. What are you going to do now?”
“Get Emmy and get out of Polistia,” Sam said. “I think I might give Norlank another try, just not the port of Carolank.”
“You have unfinished business here. Stay for a bit,” Desmon said. “I agree you don’t owe Banna anything, but you’ve met a lot of people who don’t deserve to be ruled by a despot. I’m still here, you know.”
“Keeping tabs on Viktar Kreb for your Potentate?”
“Well, aren’t you doing about the same thing for Toraltia?”
Sam shook his head. “Not at all, but if Toraltia benefits, I’ll not mind.”
Desmon laughed. “See? Stay around for a bit.”
“Staying may be dangerous, but fighting Viktar Kreb isn’t particularly safe. He has assassins out looking for Plantian and me. They even struck in Alloren where the Order of Ren is.”
“You two aren’t the only ones. Kreb has assassination teams out for everyone he perceives as a threat. It isn’t safe to be in Tolloy any longer. Plantian is proof of that,” Desmon said.
~
Sam had gone out looking for anything that could be attached to a ward. A farmer who lived along their way out didn’t know about the Vaarekian invasion until they told him. He provided Sam with small wooden scraps left from the furniture the man had made as a hobby. Instead of having the farmer burn them, Sam would blow them up.
That was a problem with the arrows Plantian and Sam had carried with them. They could only use them one time, so he only had a quiver of about ten arrows left. Sam now had a sack of nearly one hundred blocks and a crossbow-like device the farmer had created as a toy for his sons, now grown, that could be used to launch the blocks. They didn’t go very far, and their trajectory was unpredictable, but the toy crossbow could send the blocks farther than Sam could throw them.
Sam practiced with the device, and when he had more time, he would modify it to throw wooden rods. That would be more accurate than his erratic archery.
Sometime after they left the farm, Greto rode back to Desmon, who led the column. Sam galloped forward to hear what Greto had to say, along with the other officers who had accompanied the Wollian.
“The Vaarekians have a few camps a bit farther to the north than the spot we picked on the road, but none that I saw had more than ten men. I thought they looked like reserves, but they must be there to support the troops somehow,” Greto said.
“Can I take a look?” Sam said. “Maybe I can find a way to neutralize them, perhaps spread a ring of wards or something. Could we reach them and meet Desmon and the main group at the ambush site?”
Greto nodded. “I’ll need a fresher mount,” he said.
“Easily done. You both can take the extra mounts we have brought with us, courtesy of Vaarekian stables,” Desmon’s superior said.
A few minutes later, Sam and Greto headed north from the intended path of Desmon’s soldiers.
An hour later, Sam felt his companion slow down behind him. “I am surprised your friend let you travel with me,” Greto said. “You are valuable to the revolution.”
“They aren’t rebels in Zogaz,” Sam said. “The Vaarekians are invaders.”
Greto grinned. “Are we?” Sam heard the man draw his sword. “It is time to end this charade. I had intended to do something with you and Plunk when we were on horseback,” Greto said.
“You are part of the army?”
Greto grinned as Sam felt cold steel against his neck. “They only get in my way. You magicians are too soft. Take away your wards, and you are nothing.”
Sam fell off his horse in the opposite direction of the sword and felt Greto’s blade nick his head. He pulled out his Lashak sword and instantly coated his torso and head with white armor. Sam had never shown Greto his protection.
The Vaarekian assassin struck Sam just below his ear, sending Sam to the ground. His neck exploded with pain, but he had held onto his sword. Sam pulled out his wand and faced Greto, who had to turn his horse around to charge Sam again.
Greto looked at Sam with astonished eyes. “How did you…?”
Sam waved his wand at him. “It has saved me again.” Sam lied, but if he could stall Greto into thinking he had no armor, he might stand a chance.
Greto charged. Sam created pollen hobbles around forelegs of Greto’s horse, forcing it to pull up. Greto tumbled over the horse’s head, yet he rolled and bounced up on his feet and approached Sam.
Greto chanced a quick glance to find the pothole that wasn’t there.
“Another trick?” Greto said. “You won’t get the chance to use another.”
He rushed at Sam, who had plenty of experience with duelists charging him. Sam used his wand, but that didn’t quite stop the slash that scored the pollen armor. Greto was better than any swordsman Sam had ever faced. Sam guessed he would have put Professor Grott to shame.
Sam went on the offensive and fought the man in Lashak fashion, but he added the complication of using his wand as a deflector and a thrusting weapon.
Greto thrust. His sword penetrated the armor enough to make Sam’s chest bleed. Sam took advantage of Greto’s pause to remove his sword as he struck the assassin across the face with the wand, opening up a gash that split Greto’s cheek. He followed the additional pause with a thrust with his Lashak blade.
Greto’s eyes grew as his hands dropped to Sam’s sword. “How?” was the assassin’s last word.
Sam sat in the dirt for a few minutes to recover from the excitement of the deadliest duel of his life. He removed the armor and wiped the blood away from his chest, seeing a deeper cut than he had anticipated. The wound would require stitches, but he bound his chest with cloth from a spare shirt in Greto’s saddlebags.
Sam found the authorization letter that Greto must have used to get through the Vaarekian lines, and another message that said that Sam and Plantian were likely heading to join Banna Plunk in Ristaria. Sam quickly realized that someone was a Vaarekian sympathizer at the Order of Ren. The Greto that finally revealed himself as an assassin had underestimated them. Sam touched his bound wound. He had barely underestimated Sam.
With the assassin left in a shallow grave, Sam didn’t trust Greto’s reconnaissance. He headed to intercept Desmon on the way to what might have been a trap.
His wound began to throb by the time he joined Desmon, riding with one of the officers. He held the wound as he rode to the head of the column.
“Greto was a Vaarekian assassin.”
“Was?”
Sam nodded. “He couldn’t see my armor, or the world would have one less pollen magician. I wouldn’t trust his scouting,” Sam said. “Do you have a healer with you, by chance?”
Desmon called a break while Sam was stitched up. The healer riding along with Desmon wasn’t the most skilled, but Sam hoped his wound would begin to heal before he reached the road hours of riding ahead.
One of the officers ordered men to act as outriders. No one knew if the force ahead was waiting for them or if it had been plopped down on the road to monitor traffic between the village and Vaarek.
“Sentries,” said a rider, coming in from the south. He pulled out a notebook with notations on the sentry and the size of the encampment.
“Less
than one-hundred,” the rider said. He showed the order of the camp. “I would say some important people are there, based on the size of the tents.”
When the officer had interrogated another rider who had just arrived, they found he provided similar information. “We would have been hard-pressed to survive, sir,” the soldier said.
Sam wondered if they would be turning around, but the officer sent three men back along their trail to Plantian to wait for the main force.
“We will do what damage we can and then head back. Our main force will be on its way by then, and it is more than big enough to take care of the road camp and the village camp,” the officer said. “I hope you are up to it, Smith. We can use your talents. There might be Vaarekian warders in that camp. They are a pampered lot, but the more of them we remove, the more it will hurt Kreb.”
Sam nodded. “I will have to think of something on the way, but if there are warders, then the camp may be protected with wards.”
“We have gold tipped poles we can put together,” the officer said. “We might not have many warders, but we do know how to protect ourselves.”
Sam wondered if that confidence had been put to the test. “I can disable wards. Gold-tipped poles might not do the job.”
Sam didn’t want to get into how wards could be with multiple triggers crafted to fool those trying to disable them.
Chapter Twenty-Five
~
The campfires lit up the horizon. Sam walked along the intended pathway towards the camp. He held a gold wand tip in his hand as he walked and closed his eyes. He could sense a glint off to his right. His hand shot up, halting the column.
Sam got on his hands and knees and approached the ward. Even out so far from camp, the first ward he encountered was a double trigger four-layer ward. He carefully used his gold tip to lift layer after layer off.
After the fifth ward, Sam realized it would be morning before they would reach camp. He examined the next ward and wondered if he could add a thick insulating layer of pollen. It had worked for simpler wards that Banna had once demonstrated on board ship.
Sam put on the layer and stepped back to toss a rock on the ward. After a few missed attempts, one of the rocks landed squarely on the protected ward. Nothing happened.
