Rise of the Mages (Rise of the Mages 2) (34 page)

BOOK: Rise of the Mages (Rise of the Mages 2)
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65.

Xan peered from behind a tree.

Itchy, stinky leaves covered him. A spider crawled over his hand. Ugh. Why’d it have to be a spider? And how many more crept through the pile of decaying plants? He couldn’t even swat it away for fear of giving away his troops’ position.

On the road, row after row of Truna’s cavalry passed. Spy reports had pegged the number at two hundred, but it looked like more. No brown-uniformed mages at least.

Maybe it would have been better if there were. The ability to detect Xan’s men would have saved the cavalry from what was sure to be one of the worst atrocities in the history of the three kingdoms. Would have made it a fair fight anyway. Might have prevented him from becoming a monster.

But he was doing it to save Ashley. Tasia. Lainey. Dylan. Even Brant.

That made it worth it. Right?

The last of Truna’s vanguard entered Xan’s limited field of vision. He glanced at Stokes, who sat unmoving. Wasn’t it time for the signal?

The silence stretched. Had Stokes forgotten? Was he reconsidering the orders? Doubting the legitimacy and the wisdom and the morality?

Should Xan give the signal?

Surely Stokes knew what he was doing. And he was a veteran of countless battles, not someone likely to suddenly rebel at doing his duty.

Finally, he made a small gesture, barely moving two of his fingers. Men on each side of him repeated it, and men after them, passing it down the line. When it reached the end, mirrors would be used to message the other side of the road. Designated soldiers would wait the prearranged time before cutting their ropes.

A minute later, a series of loud cracks sounded near Xan and another series several hundred yards to the south. A half dozen tall pines fell to block the road at the north entrance. The same would be happening at the south exit.

The killing box had been created.

On both sides of the road, Xan’s men rose as one. He stood with them to get a better look.

They fired arrows into Truna’s cavalry, launching ten flights in less than a minute. Two thousand arrows crashed from short range into armor and flesh and horses. Most, as ordered, found arms and legs.

Blood flowed like water. Screams punctuated the twanging of bowstrings. Xan wanted to close his ears but forced himself to listen; the suffering was his doing.

Victim after victim fell until less than a third of the force was left standing. The remainder tried to mount a counterattack but were soon cut down by another storm of arrows. Less than five minutes after the ambush began, it was all but over.

Stokes and his men drew their swords and, with Xan following, descended on the fallen. Every cavalry man who looked too hale received a stab to the gut.

It was horrific.

Xan clenched his lips. Was Ashley’s life worth inflicting such atrocities? Making monsters out of soldiers?

He held his tongue and allowed the carnage to continue. Thirty minutes later, not a single rider was left on the battlefield without a grievous injury. Neither was a single one of Asher’s men left without a sense of repulsion. Or at least, Xan couldn’t see how any of them possibly could have been. And mostly directed toward him.

With the last sword strike, Xan spun and wordlessly stalked to Honey.

* * *

Xan grimaced at the sight of Ashley waiting for him inside the castle gate.

Would she be disgusted by the results of his mission or impressed? Which would be better? Which did he want?

And what if Tasia found out? He wouldn’t be able to bear her hating him.

“Where have you been?” Ashley said.

“Killing people.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I told you not to put yourself in danger.”

Neither disgusted nor impressed. The correct answer was C—mad. He should have known. “You should be happy. I ordered others to do all my dirty work.” He dismounted.

“What’s this then?” She fingered the tear in his cape.

“I’m clumsy. My clothes get torn all the time.”

“Looks like an arrow hole to me,” she said.

Xan shrugged.

“Listen to me carefully,” she said. “You are not to put yourself in danger.”

“Just one more mission,” he half muttered.

“No. I’ll not allow it.”

“Ashley …” He hated the whine in his voice. Why couldn’t he talk to her like he had the officers? “I thought we discussed this. I have to do it.”

“General Flynn filled me in on the plan,” she said. “You are not needed for the final part.”

“I am needed. I’m going.”

Her face clouded. “I am the niskma of Vierna, and you my subject and an officer in my father’s army. You will follow my command.”

Stupid regulations. How’d he gotten roped into accepting such an arrangement? “Be reasonable. The only way we—you—survive is if we sneak into the enemy camp and kill all their mages. We can’t find those mages without someone who can detect magic being part of the team. The only choice other than me is to trust Lucan to do it—if he’d even agree to in the first place.”

Ashley flicked her hair. “You are not going to sneak into the enemy camp. I’ve seen your … skills … in that area.”

“But, as I just said, there’s no other …” Xan flexed his hands several times. “Then what do you recommend?”

She waved her hand dismissively. “Train Brant. He’s a good soldier.”

Xan hated hearing that name pass her lips. “He takes a half hour of preparation to use his ability. Whoever goes on this mission has to access the power instantly.”

“The person also has to make a covert entry, a task for which you are singularly unsuited,” she said. “Magic training is the easier element.”

Xan shuddered. He simply couldn’t push off his grim responsibility onto anyone else. Besides, if there was one thing in life he wanted to do less than assassinate a bunch of sleeping mages, it was training Brant. “I’m going on this mission, and that’s final.”

66.

Brant stomped through the castle.

He’d been knighted, but it wasn’t like that appeared to make any difference in how he was treated.

Bad enough that no one had bothered to outfit him with new weapons, much less armor. Bad enough he’d not been allowed to take part in either of the actions that morning. Bad enough he apparently wasn’t even to be allowed to watch the enemy army maneuver from the safety of Asherton’s walls.

But to be summoned at the orders of “Marshal Conley?” How had that asshole been given a higher rank than him?

And how had he allowed that dweeb to get Lady Ashley?

Brant grimaced. That foolish costume he’d allowed her to talk him into wearing was such a stupid mistake. Never do the bidding of a pretty woman you were trying to woo. He hadn’t even been able to get her dress off.

At the door, he paused. He had no desire to see Xan’s face, much less listen to him. But Brant was a soldier—a knight—he’d do what duty asked.

He took a deep breath and entered the room to find Xan seated at the far end of a table. “Sir Reed reporting for duty, sir.”

“Brant …”

“What are your orders, sir?”

“Do you really want to play it this way?” Xan said.

“What way, sir?”

Xan exhaled sharply. “Sit.”

“Of course, sir.”

“We are not in a good situation as far as magic goes. We’ve got you, me, and a death mage who is unreliable at best and an enemy spy at worst. Truna could have us outnumbered a hundred to one.”

Could the situation be that bad? All the soldiers believed that Asherton couldn’t possibly be defeated. Not that they’d know about the magic, though.

“What about Dylan and Lainey, sir?” Brant said.

“I sent them away.”

“Them and not me? My life isn’t worth anything? Sir.”

“You’re a soldier. Dylan isn’t. My sister certainly isn’t. But if you want to leave, go.” Xan muttered something else.

“What was that? Sir.”

“Just go. Really. Leave town. I’ll make sure you have all the money you need.”

“Excuse me? Sir.” What was the asshole trying to pull?

“I need someone for a dangerous and nasty mission. Someone who can detect magic. I’d rather do it myself, but I can’t. If you were to leave, though …” Xan sighed. “You’re not going to go, are you? Nothing I can do to make you, right?”

Was he for real? Brant almost laughed. Probably just trying to trick him. “Duke Asher is my liege lord.”

“Okay,” Xan said. “One last chance, though. Once I tell you about the mission, you’re committed, and believe me, it’s not something you want to do. Are you in or out?”

“Oh, I’m in.” Like Brant would run from a fight.

“You heard about the ambush?”

“Yeah, I can’t believe they let some idiot make that call. Injuring nobles and animals as brutally as possible? Troop morale is about as low as it can be.”

“That was me,” Xan said. “My idea. I issued the orders. I carried them out.”

“But …”

“We have one chance to pull this thing off, Brant. Right now, they’re setting up camp and gathering their wounded. If I’m right, Irdrin is going to be under enormous pressure to use his death mages to heal those nobles. That magic use will lead us right to them. We can find out how many we have against us, where they’re quartered.” He paused. “We can reduce their numbers.”

“You want me to assassinate them?”

“No. What I wanted—well, not wanted exactly—was to go myself, but that’s off the table. The duke has plenty of men who can do spy work and … other stuff. We’re limited, however, on people who can sense magic. You will not participate in the actual … you know.”

As dishonorable as the plan was, it made sense. If Truna really did outnumber them that badly with mages, the walls and soldiers wouldn’t do the duke much good. They were toast. “What are my orders?”

Xan sighed again. “Lead the duke’s men to any magic use inside Truna’s camp. Find where the mages sleep. Leave the rest to Stokes.”

Yay. Brant foresaw a lot of sitting and staring into space in his future as he tried to sense magic.

“How do you usually approach using magic?” Xan said.

“Mainly I think, ‘I can do this. Come on. Concentrate.’ Then I order the rock or whatever to become heavy.”

Xan shook his head. “Did you not listen to anything I told you?”

“Honestly,” Brant said, “I zone out most of the time you talk.”

“And this is upon whom all our lives depend,” Xan muttered.

“Just get on with it.”

“There are two components to using magic.” Xan’s voice took on a lecturing tone. “It sounds like you have part of it down with your ‘ordering,’ but you’re fighting it when you need to immerse yourself. Let the magic flow through you.”

“What does that even mean? Let it flow through me!”

“Think of it like a crossbow,” Xan said. “Figuring out what you want the magic to do is like aiming it. The problem is that you don’t know where the trigger is. If you run your finger over the wood for long enough, you’ll probably find it, but it’s unpredictable as to when. I need to teach you how to find the trigger.”

That made sense.

“When you were successful, the magic flowed from a source in your mind, kind of like you’re a bucket of water being filled. You need to find the spigot.” Xan paused. “To me, it was like a weird bulge.”

Brant nodded. He had felt something like that.

“Focus on your body pressing against the chair,” Xan said. “Think about the power in those points, about the energy created if the chair were to no longer exist.”

“What am I trying to do?”

“Nothing. Just connect without doing anything.”

How do you focus on nothing? Brant closed his eyes. C’mon, be heavy. His body tensed. He sought the source of the magic.

Power filled him. Strength. A sense he could do anything.

His weight increased tenfold. The chair creaked and groaned. Wood legs cracked, and Brant crashed to the ground. Luckily, he let go of the magic before he hit.

He picked himself up.

Xan didn’t smile, but he nearly choked holding back laughter. “I told you not to make the magic do anything. Besides, you don’t always have to make things heavier.”

Brant chose another chair, clenching his hands into fists and barely stopping himself from smashing the smug look off his former friend’s face.

“Again,” Xan said, “without trying to do anything, locate the magic source.

Brant nodded.

“It should be something like a tunnel. Go through the tunnel.”

How the blast did … Oh.

An ocean of energy overwhelmed him. He couldn’t imagine using so much magic, but he wanted to try. Everything in the room took on a weird color. “Got it.”

A red line stretched from Xan to the middle of the table. A candle-sized flame lit. “See that?”

Brant nodded again.

With the fundamentals established, all that was left was practice. Xan had Brant end his connection to the magic and access it ten times, and he got faster each time. He also learned how to sense when others he couldn’t see were using it.

It wasn’t a fun experience working with the asshole, but at least, Brant had what was needed to do his mission. More, he had easy access to the power.

“Your part of the mission is to find the magic users,” Xan said. “Sergeant Stokes and two of his men will do the rest.”

“You’re sending me with three guys I don’t know? Not okay.”

They argued for a while before Brant got Xan to concede to “try his best” to get one of the militiamen added to the team.

“To be clear, the overall mission objective is what exactly?” Brant said.

“Find the enemy mages, gather information on their numbers, and kill as many as possible.”

“Win at any costs, huh?” Brant said. “Never knew you were so bloodthirsty.”

Xan ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s not the right thing to do. If it were just my life and Asher’s, would I choose differently?” He shrugged. “But to save Ashley and Tasia? Do I have a choice?”

Tasia, huh? When did Xan get so close to the girl? Actually, didn’t Lady Ashley’s interest in him increase after he started hanging around with Tasia?

Hmmm. Maybe Brant could kill a few birds with a single stone.

If he survived his mission, that was.

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