Rise of the Mages (Rise of the Mages 2) (27 page)

A cloud of dust rose above the road behind them. The guardsmen.

Xan tracked their relative movement for a minute and did some quick calculations. If the garrison was more than a couple of miles away, his group would never make it to safety.

He urged Honey forward until he reached Ashley and Brant. “Faster! They’re behind us.”

As Ashley dug her heels into the horse’s side, Brant shouted, “The garrison can’t be far!”

“It better be around that curve!”

With the other three following close behind, they lowered their heads. The horses responded with a burst of speed.

They approached the bend. Xan glanced behind. The dust cloud grew closer.

On the other side of the curve, the road straightened for a short stretch before a hill. Xan’s breath caught. Unbroken lines of trees stretched endlessly. He sat back in the saddle, slowing Honey. As good a place as any for him to make a stand. Just had to hold out long enough for the others to make it.

As Xan prepared to stop and turn, Brant reached the top of the rise and called, “The garrison!”

Less than a half mile away, a palisade stood as a beacon of safety with mammoth timbers bared of bark and branches, and, minutes later, they stopped outside the wall. Xan looked back. Justav’s men rounded the bend.

The fort’s gate remained closed.

A mass of black-clad men on huge horses thundered toward Xan.

Should he burn them? Would even that stop them all in time?

Xan doubted it. If he and his friends didn’t get inside the fort in the next couple of minutes, they were doomed.

Ashley cupped her hands around her mouth. “Open in the name of my father, Duke Asher!”

A helmeted head poked above the tapered logs of the palisade. The plump face of a wide-eyed boy peered from beneath oversized steel headgear. His mouth gaped as he looked from Ashley to the rapidly approaching armored men.

“Don’t just stand there, you dolt!” Ashley’s face reddened. “Open the gate!”

The boy’s lips moved, but the charging horses drowned his words. His gaze rotated between the sights below him and something behind the wall. Indecision ruled his face. Fortunately, another head appeared—one with creases around the eyes and a full, curly beard with touches of gray.

“Daniel, you idiot!” the newcomer yelled. “That’s Lady Ashley.”

Both heads disappeared, and a bell clanged. Seconds later, the gate shot up to hang suspended from two thick ropes. Ashley and Brant bolted into the fort. Dylan, ushering Lainey and Marisol, followed quickly. The portcullis crashed down behind Xan, last of the group, as soon as Honey cleared the threshold.

Soldiers poured like ants from three buildings. Most grabbed spears and bows and arrows stacked at the foot of the stairs and hustled up a steep incline to a platform running along the top of the wall. The rest bared their blades and surrounded the party.

Xan tensed. Were these soldiers their salvation or yet another threat? Everything depended on Ashley, and he had no idea what she would do.

“Fools! It’s the niskma,” the bearded man called down. “Lower your weapons!”

The soldiers dipped their blades but still stood alert. Behind them, the door of the middle building swung open, and a tall man with a full white mustache stepped out.

“Sergeant Pruitt!” Brant yelled.

Pruitt looked over the group, his eyebrows arching when he saw Ashley. “Sheath your weapons.”

The soldiers surrounding Xan and his friends scrambled to put their swords away as Pruitt marched toward the party. Shouts sounded from outside the wall.

“Williams, report!” Pruitt called to the older man on the wall.

“Twenty-one armed riders outside.”

“Are those the curs that kidnapped Lady Ashley?” Pruitt said.

Brant turned to Xan, and Pruitt followed his gaze.

“No.” Xan’s heart pounded. How to handle the situation? A parley was surely coming, and the first words out of Justav’s mouth would expose a lie. “They’re after me. A catcher and his men.”

Pruitt scanned him from shoes to curly mop of hair. “I see.” He spat. “And they’ve got the wrong man, of course.”

Xan met the soldier’s eyes. Too many people—Ashley included—knew about his abilities. Best to establish honesty from the start. Right? “No.” A discarded chunk of firewood on the ground in front of the sergeant burst into a fireball. “I’m quite guilty.”

Marisol gasped, and the soldiers surrounding the group drew their weapons once again.

Ashley looked irritated. “Sergeant, these men rescued me.”

The commotion outside the wall grew louder.

“In the name of my father, I order you to provide us—all of us—with protection.” Ashley glared at Xan. “For now.”

How much authority did she really have? The sergeant could decide whatever he wanted and face consequences from the duke later.

Pruitt never looked away from Xan’s eyes. “Your word that you’re no danger? To the lady or my men?”

“I would never hurt the lady, and I have no quarrel with you or your men.”

An agitated voice pierced the logs. “Open this gate at once! I have a warrant signed by the king to pursue my charges, and I will not be denied.”

“We have a queen, you unmitigated moron,” Xan muttered.

Pruitt’s face hardened. “Men! I ordered your weapons sheathed.”

A blur of activity followed as metal scraped into leather scabbards.

“With your permission, my lady, I’d prefer to meet this catcher face-to-face.”

Xan almost objected. Justav was probably a mage, so letting him inside was a horrible idea. But how to convince Pruitt of that? Xan didn’t exactly have a lot of credibility built up, and there was no proof beyond what he and his friends sensed. He’d just have to watch Justav closely.

At a nod from Ashley, Pruitt said, “Williams! Tell this catcher that he and one of his men can enter.”

The soldier yelled, and shouts from outside answered him. While Xan’s group dismounted and handed their horses to squires, Williams ordered the gate raised. Two smooth-faced men winched up a counterweight, and after they locked it into place, Williams threw a lever sending the rock crashing to the ground and raising the portcullis.

Justav and a slight guardsman strode under the iron bars and marched straight to the group. He used a long string of titles and appellations to introduce himself, barely allowing Pruitt to get his name out in return before launching into his spiel, “I commend you on apprehending these dangerous renegades.”

Pruitt spat. “Careful on how you speak about Lady Ashley.”

Justav dipped his head toward her. “I cast no dispersions on the niskma, of course, but others may question the company she keeps.” He pointed at Xan. “That one is an alchemist who escaped lawful custody, leaving a pair of my men incapacitated and another two missing.”

The two guardsmen at the jail accounted for the first of those, and he probably hadn’t found Keller in that alley. But what explained the other missing man?

“Just a day ago, they left four more of my guardsmen severely injured.” He glared at Xan. “I’d love to know which of these criminals accomplished that feat, but the men had to be sedated before I could properly question them.”

Ashley stared at him with appraising eyes. He shrugged. She’d probably find some reason to be mad at him about thwarting the ambush. More importantly, why did Justav say that he didn’t know who had taken out the guardsmen?

“As an emissary of King Barius, I demand you release the three boys and that girl—” Justav pointed at Lainey “—to my custody.”

Xan’s stomach tied into knots. Why wouldn’t Pruitt turn the group over to the catcher? Justav had the law on his side, and the sergeant had to be uncomfortable with letting a mage accompany the duke’s daughter. Only the unknown strength of Ashley’s favor protected Xan and his friends. Why had they decided on running to the garrison?

Oh. Yeah. Maybe it had something to do with their complete lack of options.

“The problem with your ‘demand’—” Pruitt spat again “—is my orders. I’m to find and return Lady Ashley to Duke Asher. Since she’s placed these kids under her personal protection, I don’t have a choice but to bring them along.” He stared at Justav with a stony expression. “My hands are tied.”

Justav’s face turned a brilliant crimson. “Orders from my king supersede a mere duke’s.”

“With all due respect, sir,” Pruitt said, “I take my orders from that duke and from my queen, and I’ll be escorting this group to Asherton. Those with a much higher pay grade than mine will make any decisions. I expect, though, you’ll be given a chance to make your case.”

“Sergeant, I demand—”

“You can demand until the sheep are sheared,” Pruitt said, “but I reckon it won’t do you much good.”

The soldiers’ faces bespoke grim determination. Grips on swords and bows tightened.

Justav’s shoulders slumped. “That does seem to be the prudent course of action. I and my men will be allowed to follow?”

He knew Xan to be a mage and had to suspect Ashley and at least one of the others as well. The presence of at least three mages didn’t faze Justav until the garrison’s soldiers were added to the mix against him. What were his limits?

Pruitt nodded. “At a couple of hours distance. Excepting a scout of course.”

Justav inclined his head at Ashley and turned toward the gate, his henchman in tow.

Xan rushed after them. “I’m not the weakling you met in Eagleton. You’ll not take me quietly.”

Justav shook his head ruefully. “You’re an untrained infant playing with powers you don’t understand, and my duty is to bring you to task for it.”

Implying that “trained” mages existed and that he—or his men—was such? That slip confirmed a conspiracy.

Xan smiled coldly. “What’s stopping me from burning you to a pile of embers?” He ignited a waist-high flame from a clump of grass at the catcher’s feet.

Justav didn’t even flinch.

“Unless you have a magical way to combat me?” Xan said. “How are you going to explain to the duke how you escaped that cave?”

“Watch yourself, boy. Each word earns more suffering for you and your friends. Give up now and save them pain.”

Xan gritted his teeth. As if he’d give that blowhard the satisfaction.

“Consider it seriously, boy.” Justav sneered. “I will perform my duty—” he scanned Lainey’s body and laughed—“but I might be persuaded to forego some of the perks.”

Xan snarled but otherwise held himself in check. Justav was obviously provoking him.

“You kill people due to an accident of their birth,” Xan said. “Calling murder a duty excuses nothing.”

“Bermau digs the ground and finds gold. Riches pour from the oceans into Kaicia. You think all nations are as lucky? Duty to kingdom and to family supersedes all.” With his guard following, Justav stormed off.

Xan stroked his chin, considering. The move against Vierna had to be a play by Dastanar. He turned.

And almost ran over Ashley.

“What am I going to do with you?” she said.

Huh? Had he done something new to make her mad? Probably. He had taken multiple breaths since she’d last had the opportunity to berate him.

“Most of the time,” she said, “you’re so incompetent I can’t believe you’d ever be a threat to anyone. Other times, you appear too dangerous to let you anywhere near my lord father’s presence.”

Xan didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. Protecting her and her father was exactly what he was trying to do, but how to convince her of that?

“The only rationale for not turning you over to that odious catcher is that you played a small role in rescuing me.”

He would not react to her baiting him. He would not react to her baiting him.

“Your constant displays of magic, however,” she said, “make that reasoning less than compelling. Why should I not have you bound and tossed down from the wall?”

“My word?” How had that come out as a question?

“What word is that, exactly?”

“On my honor,” Xan said, “I will never harm you.”

“You said that earlier as well.” Ashley studied him. “And you’d have me believe it to be true. Your word is important to you?”

“Yes.” Better than admitting she was that important to him.

“Very well then.” Ashley demanded a sword from a nearby soldier. “We shall have a demonstration.”

At a gesture, two other soldiers grabbed him, one securing each of his shoulders. She pressed the blade against his stomach.

The metal dug into his flesh. Ouch. What the blast was she doing?

“I hold your life in my hand.” She smiled at him almost sweetly. “Do you believe that I might decide to end it?”

He meant nothing more to her than any peasant scurrying beneath her ivory tower. Killing him would be beneath her notice. She’d retire to her room for a spot of tea afterwards. Was she bloody insane?

Xan nodded.

“Now, a big, strong mage like you could easily overcome little old me.” She let the hilt roll lightly on her fingertips. “All you’d have to do is burn the leather I’m holding, and I’d be forced to drop the sword. Understand?”

He nodded again.

“But that wouldn’t be good. Even if it were the slightest pain—the briefest of ouchies—I’d be hurt, and it would be your fault. You’d have hurt me.” She grinned, her eyes cold.

His tunic ripped. The blade cut through his flesh.

He wanted to jump away or grab the blade, but the soldiers held him tight. How could he make the pain stop?

The blade slid further.

“Did that hurt?” she said.

Yes. “No.”

She pressed harder.

His muscles tensed. The pain was excruciating. Anything to end the torment. All he had to do was hurt her. A tiny flame and she’d drop the sword.

No. Even if she were insane. Even if she hated him. Even if he had absolutely no chance with her. She was still the girl from the meadow. He couldn’t hurt her. Wouldn’t hurt her.

His eyes teared, but he met hers.

Her hand tensed as if preparing to thrust. How much farther could the blade penetrate before injuring something vital? A few inches? Less? A gut wound was a horrible way to go.

If Ashley wanted his life, she could have it. He shrugged.

“You’re either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid.” Her tone left no doubt which she believed. “Interesting.”