City of Sorcerers (20 page)

In the shadow of a rock outcropping beneath a trailing willow, the Hunnuli found water in a low, muddy pool that barely reached their hocks. They plunged in happily and dropped their heads to drink the warm water.

Rafnir wasted no time forming a spell that surrounded the travelers, the horses, and the water hole with a red, shimmering dome of magic impenetrable to everything but the outside air. Whether it would be proof against the wraith's strange ability to influence their minds, no one knew. Neither did they know how long they could hold their dome. Shields of magic power were difficult to maintain for a long period of time because they required a great deal of strength to keep them intact. No one in that little group would be able to hold a shield for long. They were all weary and feeling the strain of their difficult ride.

One by one the people dismounted, stretched, and began to open their packs for some food. The Hunnuli took their time drinking their fill, then fell to grazing on the thin grass growing along the banks.

The travelers had barely begun to eat when Kelene tugged Sayyed's sleeve and jerked her head toward their trail. He followed her frightened stare and saw the wraith coming slowly toward them. The clanspeople froze in place. The figure was moving steadily through the grass with a long, deliberate stride, its eyes fixed menacingly on the dome before it.

Alarmed, Sayyed realized the form was no longer nebulous. It had solidity, depth, and detail. Beneath the glowing outline of phosphorescence, its robes were the same dark red of a priest of Sorh, its feet wore woven sandals, its hands were long and supple, and in the depths of its dark blue eyes burned a loathing that drove a chill down Sayyed's back. The emotion was so intense on the wraith's face, its features were twisted askew in a mask of rage and abhorrence.

The figure walked to within two paces of the magic shield and stopped. It ran its fierce gaze over the dome, then studied the magic-wielders one by one. Every eye was locked on it; no one dared move. Very deliberately the wraith stepped forward and began to force its way through the magic wall. The shield wavered and dimmed under the assault.

"I can't hold it!" Rafnir shouted, and Sayyed, Savaron, Niela, and Morad came to his aid. Together they clasped hands and joined their power to his to strengthen the dome.

Kelene hesitated, because she had never tried to form or hold a shield. But when she took Rafnir's hand and joined the circle, she discovered the task was easier than she thought.

Magic poured through her body from hand to hand; it sizzled in her blood, roared in her ears, and brought her mind brilliantly alive. She knew what she had to do and threw her entire will into the union of magic-wielders.

The shield suddenly burst into a blindingly bright scarlet hue, and the wraith, its form caught in the surge of power, was thrown backward. The wraith shrieked with fury and threw itself at the red barrier only to be forced back by the intense energy.

Finally it spat a curse and stood back, its luminous outline glowing with its rage.

"Sorcerers!" It hissed the name like a malediction. "Together you are strong, but you cannot endure against me for long. I will have my revenge."

"Who are you?" Sayyed demanded.

The apparition gave a sharp, bitter laugh. "Your destruction," it swore ferociously, and in the flick of a finger, it vanished.

The clanspeople stared at the place where the wraith had been standing, half expecting it to return and try again to break their shield. When nothing happened, they began to breathe easier. One after another, they withdrew from the union until only Rafnir was holding the shield together.

"At least we know it is not completely impervious to magic," Rafnir commented as he sat down on the outcropping.

"Yes," Savaron said, "except look how much power we used just to keep that thing away. How are we going to get rid of it?"

"One thing at a time," Sayyed suggested. He sank down to rest in the grass by Afer's feet. "We know we can keep him at bay for a short while, so relax while you can. We must reach Moy Tura by nightfall."

Morad paced around between the walls of the shield. "What good will that do us?

What if it follows us in?"

"I'm hoping it won't want to invade a sorcerers' domain," said Sayyed.

"Sorcerers' domain, my mother's stew pot! That place is nothing more than an empty pile of rocks," Morad snapped.

"Do you have another suggestion?" Sayyed asked mildly, to which Morad only muttered something to himself and subsided into his own thoughts.

The others wasted no time following Sayyed's advice to rest. Savaron ate some food, then took over the shield from Rafnir so he could eat, too. Tam's cat sat by Afer's hooves and meticulously cleaned her fur. The Hunnuli drank and grazed while Niela brushed their sweaty coats, and Kelene checked Savaron's and Rafnir's wounds.

Morad sat on the outcropping and stared morosely at the hills.

It was he who caught the first ill omen on the wind. He straightened and sniffed the air worriedly. Their magic shield was not impervious to smells, so when another breeze wafted around the dome, Morad rose like a startled hound. "Do you smell smoke?" he asked.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Smoke?" exclaimed Sayyed, sitting upright fast. The clanspeople were all too familiar with the dangers of grass fires. They came to their feet in alarm. Savaron dissolved the shield, and the Hunnuli lifted their muzzles to test the air.

He is right,
Afer confirmed.
There is smoke to the east. /t smells of grass, not
dung or wood.

"You don't suppose the wraith had something to do with this?" Kelene suggested.

Niela, looking pale, added, "What if this is just another delusion?"

Sayyed shook his head. "The wraith's dreams and illusions have never affected the Hunnuli, and Afer confirms the smoke. I think this is real." He picked up his saddle pad. "Mount up," he ordered.

A short time later, the small party rode up the slope of the valley. The wind was stronger now, full of dust and sharp pieces of brittle grass. It snarled their cloaks, pulled at Sayyed's burnoose, and set the horses' tails flying. The riders paused at the top and looked back to the east.

The women drew a sharp breath at what they saw. Sayyed's palms broke into a cold sweat. The entire eastern skyline was ablaze with orange and yellow and smudged with rising black. As he shielded his eyes against the stinging wind, Sayyed discovered his clothes were covered with little black flecks. There were cinders in the air.

"North!" shouted Sayyed. "We'll cut across the fire's path and try to reach the plateau."

Strengthened by their rest and by growing fear, the six Hunnuli galloped north.

They knew as well as their riders that they could outrun almost anything on the ground except a firestorm. The wind swept across their trail, picking up dirt and debris and bringing the acrid smell of smoke. The Hunnuli pushed until their legs were blurs and their hooves thundered over the dry earth.

Far ahead, the travelers could see where the land began to change. The level grasslands grew hillier and more uneven. Small hills evolved to flat-topped buttes and rounded mounds; larger hills rose to ridges and eroded bluffs. Sayyed knew that about three or four leagues beyond the first butte was a huge plateau and a trail leading up its steep side to the ruins of Moy Tura. If the travelers could reach that trail to the top of the plateau, they would be safe. Otherwise, Sayyed did not want to give much thought to their chances.

Gritting his teeth against the flying dust, he straightened over Afer's rising and falling neck and risked a glance to the east. The wall of fire was moving incredibly fast. Already it had halved the distance between its towering flames and the desperately running Hunnuli. The smoke was thickening, too, making the air hard to breathe.

Terrified animals began to cross their path. Antelope and deer went racing by without a glance; a wild dog, rabbits, and foxes darted side by side through the long grass. Birds flew frantically from the increasing gloom.

Sayyed looked ahead and saw the first butte just off to the right. The plateau was not far, but the warrior had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that it was too far.

Already he could hear the fierce roar of the fire over the thunder of the Hunnuli's hooves. "Can you run any faster?" he yelled to Afer.

The stallion's reply was short and full of regret.
No.

Sayyed understood. The Hunnuli had traveled an incredible distance in four days and were weary to the bone. Already Afer was having trouble breathing the hot, smoke-laden air, and his usually effortless pace was becoming labored. If Afer was having trouble, the others would be too, especially the smaller Demira. Sayyed looked back over his shoulder and saw her far behind the other horses. He took one more glance at the raging fire and made his decision. They weren't going to beat the flames, and there was no point breaking the horses in the vain effort of trying. They would have to stop and stand their ground.

"Pull up!" Sayyed bellowed. He brought Afer to a halt on the top of a low hill where a weathered outcropping of rock formed a cap over the hill's summit. As soon as the other Hunnuli gathered around in a huddled group, the warrior spoke rapidly to his companions. "Stay close together. I'm going to make an airtight shield around us, but I'll need your help to hold it."

"Will that work against such a fire?" Savaron yelled over the increasing roar of the flames.

"I don't know," Sayyed shouted back.

They all looked apprehensively at the approaching fire. From their position on the low hill they could see the towering wall of flames sweeping toward them. Tufts of tall prairie grass were exploding into flames, adding more and more smoke to the great cloud that billowed into the air to obliterate the sun. The noise was deafening, like an endless, rolling thunder.

Sayyed waited no longer. He had learned the spell from Gabria many years before, and the words came clearly to his mind. He envisioned exactly what he wanted---an airtight, impervious dome of magic---gathered in enough power to form it, then began the spell. Gabria had used this spell to contain a fire; Sayyed hoped it would work to keep one out.

At his command, five red pillars of energy rose from the Stony ground around the horses and their riders. The pillars grew until they reached above the tallest man's head, then they curved over and united in the center. A clear red curtain spread out from each pillar and joined to form a dome surrounding the travelers. The roar of the fire was immediately silenced.

The clanspeople watched as the fire rushed toward them. The trapped air in the dome was hot and smoky, but it was certainly better than the stifling atmosphere outside.

Sayyed felt perspiration trickling down his face and shoulders, and his limbs began to tremble. He closed his mind to everything but holding the dome. Beneath him, Afer's sides were heaving, his black coat slick with sweat. Yet the stallion stayed as still as possible, so as not to distract the sorcerer. Hunnuli could not wield magic themselves, but they could lend their strength to their riders when such help was necessary. Afer gave Sayyed some of his power now, sending it pulsing through the mental link they had forged through years of friendship and devotion. Sparked from the white-hot lightning that gave the Hunnuli their power, Afer's might surged into his rider and bolstered Sayyed's flagging spell.

A moment later, Sayyed felt Rafnir join his power to the spell, then Kelene, Savaron, Morad, and Niela. The red dome flared to a brilliant ruby red.

And just in time. The wind blew burning pieces of grass around them and whipped the flames to a frenzy high over their heads. Smoke from the blaze rolled around them, almost smothering the lurid glow of the fire outside the red walls.

The great sea of flames was almost upon them when Morad yelled in alarm. His sudden cry startled them, and they looked up, horrified, to see the wraith standing by the dome's wall, the firestorm directly behind it. In that critical instant, their concentration slipped, and the spell wavered. An incredible heat and raging noise burst through the thinning walls and knocked the people reeling on their mounts.

"Enjoying my fire?" the wraith shouted. "All it took was an ember and a wave of the hand. Too bad it won't be so easy for you to survive." He laughed in anticipation.

But he laughed too soon. With the last of his energy, Sayyed threw all of his fury into the spell. The walls intensified again, just long enough for the others to recover and jump to his aid. The noise died down as the horribly bright wildfire engulfed them. The young people dosed their eyes to the light and to the sight of the wraith waiting in the flames. They poured all of their abilities into holding the shield against the conflagration.

The seconds seemed to turn so slowly that the six riders thought the ordeal would never end. In truth, though, the firestorm passed as quickly as it came. Pushed by the high winds, it roared over the magical dome like a stampede, then thundered on to the northwest. The flames' glowing light died down, and the clanspeople opened their eyes. Outside the dome the smoke was still thick. A few small fires lingered behind in tufts of grass and shrubs, and the blackened earth smoldered. The wraith was nowhere to be seen.

The magic-wielders waited until the air in the dome was too old to use before they dissolved their life-saving shield. The hot wind struck them the moment the dome disappeared. The wind was still laden with ash and dust and acrid with the smell of burned grass, but it was blowing the worst of the smoke away.

The Hunnuli stepped gingerly off the unburned rock outcropping onto the charred, hot ground. As they walked, the scorched grass crackled under their hooves.

"Now I know what a loaf of bread feels like," Rafnir said into the quiet.

The riders broke into laughter that was made richer by the joy of their escape.

The unspoken tension among them eased when they realized they were safe from the fire and only a few leagues away from the trail that led up to the top of the plateau and their destination. The fire was still raging to the east and north; however, it posed no threat to the plateau or to themselves as long as they stayed behind it.