The Hidden Masters of Marandur Page 5

  Flyn nodded, frowning. “There is such a tower. Not far ahead at all. An abandoned Imperial watch tower. It hasn’t been occupied for a decade, and my scouts just reported it still empty.”

  “I saw it burning,” Alain said. “My foresight warned of something to come. How far ahead is it?”

  “The head of the column should be almost reaching it,” Flyn said. “Sir Mage, I have three pairs of scouts out, all experienced soldiers. None have reported danger.”

  Alain started to reply, then he felt something. Several somethings. The unmistakable sense that Mages were not too far distant and working spells. Alain pointed ahead and to the sides, surprised that he could keep his voice steady. “Do your scouts ride there, and there, and there?”

  Flyn stared. “Yes, Sir Mage.”

  “Then at this moment they are probably dying at the hands of the Mages I sense.”

  The general did not hesitate for another moment. He rose in the saddle to roar out orders in a voice that carried easily through the night. “Ambush! Everyone off the road! To arms! Move or die!”

  Alain looked ahead as shocked soldiers roused themselves from the stupor of march and flung themselves toward cover. He could now see the dim outline of the watch tower visible in the night. The world illusion seemed to have slowed down, everything happening with terrible sluggishness, General Flyn’s words coming out oh so slowly, Alexdrian soldiers running and reaching for weapons with the agonizing snail’s pace of those caught in a nightmare, Alain trying to gather power to himself yet not knowing which spell he needed to use.

  Lightning flared, not from the sky but from the ground, racing across the surface to strike the watch tower and cause it to erupt into flames that illuminated the Alexdrian soldiers as they scrambled off the road.

  The sudden blare of the brass trumpets used to pass signals among Imperial forces came from the left side of the road, and time shot back into motion as a storm of crossbow bolts came hurtling out of the darkness. Deeper thrums marked Imperial siege machines called ballistae hurling their projectiles toward the Alexdrians. Much louder than all the rest came the thunder of Mechanic weapons from the Imperial position, the fire of several rifles adding to the havoc among the Alexdrian soldiers.

  Alain’s horse reared, screaming in pain, then twisted and fell. Alain barely managed to jump free of the saddle before his horse crashed to the ground. Toughened by his Mage training and partially cushioned by the robes he wore, Alain landed hard but unhurt. Jumping up, he looked down at the horse he had ridden, seeing the crossbow bolt protruding from its chest and the bloody foam on the horse’s muzzle as it twitched out the last vestiges of life. Alain turned away, his eyes coming to rest on the Alexdrian soldier named P’tel. The boy had fallen on his back, a crossbow bolt protruding from his neck. Blood pooled beneath the new armor which had not been able to protect him. P’tel’s sightless eyes stared up at the stars, his expression forever frozen in surprise.

  Alain went to one knee beside the body, momentarily oblivious to the battle around him. He is nothing. Just a shadow. No. My training cannot be right in that. For the loss of a shadow would not pain me so. Eighteen years of age, only a few days older than Alain, and P’tel would never see another sunrise. You journey to another dream, soldier of Alexdria. May your next dream end better than this one. Standing up again, Alain stared around, feeling a curious calm mixing with the anger and fear that he kept suppressed. He could find few targets for his spells in the uncertain light cast by the burning tower. Dead Alexdrian soldiers littered the road and its verges, while the Imperial crossbows and other weapons continued to flay the other Alexdrians who had sought cover.

  Focusing on one of the dimly seen ballistae, Alain concentrated on changing the world illusion. The air above his palm was hot, much hotter than the surrounding air. Very, very hot. His own strength went into the spell, aided by the power held by the land around him.

  The illusion of heat was above his palm. Alain looked toward the ballistae, and imagined the heat there instead of here. In an instant, the heat had gone from here to there, and the wooden ballistae turned into another torch as it caught fire, the distant figures of its crew hurling themselves away from the inferno.

  In the light cast by the burning tower and siege machine, Alain could see that General Flyn had rallied his cavalry, leading it in a charge against the flank of the Imperials entrenched on the left side of the road. The Imperial troops had not expected their targets to be warned and able to recover so swiftly from the shock of ambush. In the darkness and the confusion, the legionaries did not notice the Alexdrian charge coming until it was too late. The Alexdrian cavalry hit the Imperial forces and rode over them, breaking that end of the Imperial line. Overrunning one of the Imperial war machines, some of the cavalry turned it and fired its huge bolt down the ranks of the Imperial trenches, causing chaos. Flyn wheeled his forces, preparing them to charge down the length of the disrupted Imperial line.

  Alain was watching, waiting for good targets, when lightning came again from the ground among the shadowed areas behind the Imperial line. The forks of lightning shot out, smashing into the Alexdrian cavalry, sending horses and soldiers flying. Those horses unhurt or singed by the attacks panicked, stampeding away riderless or with riders vainly trying to regain control. The lightning struck once more, and then a third time, weakening with each bolt, but disrupting the attempts by some groups of Alexdrian cavalry to hold their ground.

  The Imperials have a lightning Mage, and a very strong one to cast so much lightning so fast. But he could do nothing about it. Even though Alain could sense the position of the lightning Mage, the Mage Guild did not permit Mages to attack each other when the forces they were contracted to clashed in battle. The Mages could only strike at commons. Alain stood, helpless, as the Imperials rallied and the fleeing Alexdrians streamed past him.

  Imperial trumpets sounded again. Alain could see lines of mounted soldiers coming toward him. Imperial cavalry this time, moving at a steady pace, preparing to charge down the road and sweep away the shattered Alexdrian force.

  Leave them to their fates, Alain’s Mage training told him.

  Run, save yourself, Alain’s fears cried.

  I don’t leave anyone behind, Mari’s voice said, so clearly he wondered for a moment if she truly stood beside him. That insubstantial thread he had once sensed tying them together was present again, and he felt strength and resolve fill him simply because he was conscious of that thread.

  Alain braced himself, facing the ranks of Imperial cavalry. These Alexdrians depended on me. I am their defense against disaster. I cannot fail them. Not as I once failed the caravan on its way to Ringhmon. I will save these people, because Mari would want me to do this, because it is the hard thing but also the right thing.

  He gathered the power in the area to himself, feeling where it had been already drained by the Mage who hurled lightening. But enough remained. As much remained as he could use.

  Heat flared above his hand as he created it there. Alain stared at the ranks of Imperial cavalry, trying not to think about what he was going to do to them. Then he willed the heat to a spot in the stones of the road just ahead of the front rank of the cavalry.

  The area exploded, hurling fragments among the Imperial soldiers. Alain had already created another fireball and willed it to strike a little distance from the first. Then another, then another, his strength draining away as Alain sent fireballs as rapidly as he could. The ranks of the Imperial cavalry disappeared in a succession of explosions that hurled men and horses in all directions. As the last fire left his hand to create a weak burst of heat among the Imperials, Alain fell to the road, his vision hazed by exhaustion so great that he could make no attempt to cushion his fall. Dimly aware that he must not lie here to die, Alain struggled to move as cries of panic and shock sounded from the Imperial troops.

  Lightning flared above him, tearing through the space which Alain had occupied moments before. Then it came again, flaying the body of a horse lying between Alain and the Mage sending the lightning. Even through the haze of fatigue clouding his mind, Alain wondered why the lightning had been directed so close to him. Could not the lightning Mage have sensed where Alain was?

  He had to have. Then had the lightning been aimed at Alain on purpose?

  Alain tried to move again, his limbs shaking with effort, but could not manage to rise even to his elbows. Several horses came to a halt near him. The Imperials. Will they dare to slay me in revenge for what I did to their comrades?

  But the boots that came into Alain’s field of vision were those of Alexdrians. The voice of General Flyn sounded above him. “Forgive us, Sir Mage, the familiarity of laying hands upon you, but we feel obligated to save the life of the one who just saved ours!” Hands grasped Alain, raising him and tossing him into an empty saddle, then a mounted Alexdrian soldier was on each side of him, holding him upright, and the group was heading away from the site of the ambush. The brass trumpets of the Imperials blared in their wake, sounding victorious but also frustrated at the escape of so many Alexdrians.

  Alain tried to regain enough strength to keep in his saddle on his own, dimly aware of General Flyn organizing the survivors of his cavalry to drive the remaining Alexdrian foot soldiers ahead of them in a race to safety. Detachments of the remaining Alexdrian cavalry fell back occasionally to hamper the Imperial pursuit. General Flyn seemed to be everywhere at once, tireless as he drove his soldiers onward.

  The general stopped by Alain briefly at one point. “Sir Mage, your warning saved us from suffering much worse losses in the first onset, and your stand against the Imperial cavalry saved us from being wiped out. I will admit I doubted the abilities of a young Mage, but I was wrong, Sir Mage, very wrong. I have never heard of any Mage who stood their ground so to defend common folk. If any one of us lives to reach the Northern Ramparts again, it will be because of you.”

  Alain, still swaying in the saddle and holding on to his horse with great difficulty, could only nod. The general saluted him and rode off, urging another group of his soldiers to greater effort.

  The rest of the ride seemed like a nightmare brought to life. The unchanging plains made it seem as if they were making no progress as they rode on, the enemy always behind. Alain slowly regained some strength, but was grateful for the escorts on either side of him, who remained alert for any sign the Mage was going to fall. It is odd. I should have died back there, struck by the lightning Mage who violated Guild rules by attacking me directly, or impaled on the lances of Imperial cavalry. But I still live, because these common soldiers, these shadows who my training says do not even exist, risk themselves to save me.

  They clattered back across the wooden bridge as a faint glow to the east announced that dawn was not far off. General Flyn sat, watching his soldiers stream past, his face grim. From their conversation the day before, Alain knew that the general was thinking of how many soldiers had not lived to reach that bridge. The escort accompanying Alain brought their horses near the general and stopped, their mounts trembling with weariness.

  “What can you see, Vasi?” Flyn asked one of the other Alexdrians. “Have you still got your Mechanic far-seers?”

  That soldier put something like two tubes joined together to his eyes. “They’re coming, sir. Four or five bowshots off, I’d guess.”

  A small group of foot soldiers came staggering across the bridge, herded by two more Alexdrian cavalry on exhausted horses. Flyn stopped one of the mounted soldiers. “Who’s behind you?”

  The woman stared at him for a moment, too tired to think, then sat straighter in the saddle. She had lost her helmet in the battle or the retreat but had kept her sword and now raised it in a salute. “None but the Imperials and the dead as far as I know, General.”

  “Then keep going. Well done.” Flyn ran his eyes across the group. “Akiko, you’ve got the freshest horse. Gallop a bowshot from the bridge and see if you can spot any more of ours coming, then get back here.”

  The Alexdrian officer named Akiko turned a fearful but determined face forward and urged her horse across the bridge, its hooves thundering clearly in the stillness that marks dawn. Alain, finally able to sit in the saddle by himself again, watched the figure of the Alexdrian recede into the still, dark landscape. They waited, the only sounds the deep breathing of their blown horses and the rattle of equipment on the road where the fleeing Alexdrian force sought the refuge of the Ramparts.

  Hooves sounded again, no longer galloping. General Flyn and his escort stiffened, tightening their grips on their weapons. Then Akiko reappeared, urging her horse on in a shambling trot. As she reached the far side of the bridge Akiko called out her message. “I couldn’t see anyone but some bodies lying in the road, sir, and the Imperials coming on strong behind.”

  Flyn nodded grimly. “Sir Mage, had I a hundred soldiers still in fighting shape I would make a stand here and hold off the Imperials for a while. But the force I have here is too small and too tired. It would be a great service to us if this bridge were destroyed before the Imperials got here, because that is all that might delay them. Everything we had that could start a big fire fast is gone, lost in the retreat. Can you destroy this bridge, Sir Mage?”

  Alain sat straighter, eyeing the wooden structure. Like anything else built by the Empire, it was stout enough to stand for centuries. Fortunately, this far out in the hinterlands, it was not made of stone but of wood. Still, it would take a good sized fire to make it unusable before the pursuit arrived, and he had very little strength. “Get your soldiers back from the bridge. I will do what I can.”

  The Alexdrians fell back, eyeing him nervously. If Alain had not been so tired and so frightened, he would have been pleased to see that the soldiers who had seemed so skeptical of him now feared his abilities. His dismount wasn’t quite a fall from the saddle, as Alain managed to keep his feet. He stood unsteadily gazing at the bridge, then concentrated, seeing his hand trembling, finally using his other hand to grasp his forearm to steady it. There was plenty of power here to use, but his strength was so low. I cannot do this. I need my own strength, and it is gone.

  Chapter Three

  Alain took a deep breath, looking around and seeing the Alexdrians watching him, hope and fear mingled in their expressions. If Mari were here, I could do this. If I die here, I will not ever make it back to the walls of Dorcastle, and I will never see Mari again.

  It happened, as it had before in Ringhmon and in Dorcastle. The thread he sensed connecting them had faded once more, but as Alain thought of Mari he was more aware of it. His feelings for Mari had shown him how to find a place inside where strength could be found even when all strength seemed to be gone. From somewhere, Alain felt that extra strength. Not much, but enough. He used it to draw on the power here, building the heat, making it larger than usual, less focused so it would set more of the bridge afire, feeling himself about to collapse again from the effort, then gazed at the center of the bridge and sent the fire there.

  Fire bloomed as the entire central section of the bridge erupted into flame. Alain barely noticed as darkness filled his eyes and his body went limp, dropping to hit the ground hard for at least the third time this night. Though miraculously untouched by Imperial weapons or Mage-sent lightning, he had surely picked up more bruises than he had suffered since his early days as an acolyte.

  But once again hands came to him, pulling him up and hoisting him into his saddle and steadied on either side. Alain wavered at the edge of consciousness as the fire roared ever stronger behind them and the faint sound of angry cries came from the Imperial forces. “It’ll take them a long time to get foot soldiers through that gully, and the cavalry will have to ride north a long ways before they can cross,” Flyn told Alain. “We can’t relax, but I believe we will make it, Sir Mage.”

  Alain could not even nod in reply.

  By the time the sun rose behind them to cover the peaks of the Northern Ramparts before them in a blaze of red-tinged glory, Alain had completely passed out, sagging in the saddle between his two escorts.

  It was fully light when he blinked back into awareness. Most of the horses were being walked now, no longer capable of being ridden. A few in slightly better shape were carrying soldiers too badly wounded to walk themselves. All around, soldiers were tramping wearily onward, their eyes on the entrance to the pass into the Northern Ramparts, which lay not far ahead now.

  General Flyn came walking back along the column, as apparently inexhaustible as ever. “We’ll leave all the horses at the entrance to the pass,” he called out to his soldiers. “None of them can make the climb after last night.”

  One of Alain’s escorts looked stricken. “Will they be slain, sir?”

  “Not by us,” Flyn growled. “Let the Imperials have them. I’ll not kill good beasts who’ve ridden their hearts out for us.”

  Alain looked up the pass, remembering the trip down it. When had that been? It seemed months, yet it could only have been a day or two ago. The first stage of the pass was fairly steep, normally a tough but manageable climb. But the horses of the fleeing Alexdrians were too worn out to make that journey. They stood, legs splayed, their heaving sides coated with foam, wherever soldiers dropped their reins. Alain wondered how many of the horses would die anyway from the stress of the retreat.

  A few of the wagons had made it out of the ambush. Now the wounded within them were being hoisted out and carried by their fellow soldiers as the wagons were overturned and left lying at the foot of the pass.

  Flyn got his exhausted soldiers moving up the pass, cursing and cajoling while Alain sat and watched. Finally the general came to Alain and bowed. “Sir Mage, there are times to lead from the front and times to lead from the rear. This is a time for the latter. I need to keep my soldiers moving and I need to command any rear-guard required to hold off Imperial pursuers who get too close.” He gestured to the east, where rising dust warned of the legionaries who were still after the Alexdrians. “You have earned the right to a place of safety in the middle of the column,” Flyn continued, “but you have proven yourself a stout ally. Will you accompany me to help guard the rear of the column, Sir Mage?”

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