Heirs of the Enemy (16 page)

“Reinforce my shields, Kalmar,” she called out.

The Koroccan mage promptly complied as Fakir Aziz woke and sat up. He frowned deeply as he evaluated the situation.

“What do we do?” Zynor asked the Mage. “They think we are rebel mages.”

“Let them expend their missiles,” answered Fakir. “Then we shall explain their error to them. Each of you take turns with the shields.”

Suddenly, fiery projectiles screamed through the trees. Four soldiers were swept off their feet as the projectiles impacted, and the flames began to devour their bodies. Other soldiers shouted in alarm, but their shouts turned to screams of pain as the trees nearest them began exploding, sending rivers of deadly splinters into their bodies. Tree after tree exploded and then there were no more shouts of alarm. It was all over in seconds. Out of the drifting smoke, Theos appeared. He walked calmly through the devastation, checking each body for signs of life. When he had examined all twenty bodies, he turned towards the campsite.

“You can lower your shields now,” he called out. “They are all dead.”

“Drop the shields,” ordered Fakir Aziz. “Zynor, take Kalmar with you and round up their horses. I do not want them running off and alerting anyone to the destruction that took place here. The rest of you take care of burying the bodies.”

The shields winked out of existence and the five mages filed out of the campsite as Theos was entering it. He watched them leave with a puzzling frown upon his face.

“Where are they going?”

“I have given them tasks to do,” answered the Mage. “The women will be burying the dead while the men will gather the horses.”

“Why bother with that? It would be easier to just move our campsite than to bury twenty men, and we have no need for horses when we have unicorns.”

“You have need of a horse,” declared the Mage. “You may have your pick of the herd.”

“What are you saying?”

“You are leaving us, Theos. While I sympathize with your plight, my task is too great to allow you to be a part of it.”

“So that’s it?” scowled Theos. “I save your lives, and you send me away as if I were some errant child?”

“Our lives were not in danger,” retorted the Mage. “We could have easily held our shields for days if it was necessary, and there was no chance that the soldiers could get away from us to alert anyone else. The situation, while unfortunate, was under control. Now the situation is chaotic. Twenty soldiers are dead, and you have announced our exact location with a powerful display of battle magic. If there are black-cloaks in the area, or worse, a demonkin, we will be visited before morning. That would mean true danger for us.”

“Fine,” snapped Theos. “I have no desire to stick around here and rot with the rest of you anyways. I will leave first thing in the morning.”

“You will leave now,” Fakir retorted sternly. “The rest of us will be moving away from this place, and the less you know of our travels, the better it will be for all concerned.”

Theos spun away from Fakir and stomped across the clearing to gather his belongings. His movements were exaggerated, and Fakir could sense the anger coursing through his veins. He walked towards Theos and placed a hand on his head. Theos glared at the Mage and tried to throw off the old man’s hand, but his body refused to acknowledge the order. Slowly the anger drained out of the Tyronian mage, and he stared at Fakir questioningly. The Mage removed his hand from the Tyronian’s head and held out a small slip of paper.

“You are a good man at heart, Theos of Tyronia,” the Mage said softly, “but you must learn to control the rage within yourself. Seek out this man. Perhaps he can do for you what others have failed to do.”

Theos reached out and accepted the slip of paper. He stared at it briefly and shrugged. Without a word, Theos turned and walked out of the clearing, crumpling the slip of paper and discarding it as he made his way through the trees. Fakir Aziz sighed heavily and shook his head sadly. He retrieved the slip of paper and threw it into the campfire.

A while later, the others returned to the campsite. The group was oddly quiet as they entered the clearing, and Fakir said nothing on their return. At first everyone sat around the fire saying nothing, but eventually Kalmar could no longer stand the silence.

“Theos said that you banished him from the group,” the Koroccan mage said softly. “I know that what he did was a bit over the top, but was it really necessary to send him away? He was only trying to save us.”

“Why did you not attack the soldiers, Kalmar?” asked Fakir.

“I was helping Eulena shield the group.”

“And you cannot shield and attack at the same time?”

“I could,” frowned Kalmar, “but it didn’t seem necessary.”

“One of the purposes of us traveling together is to learn about the others and gain faith in their abilities,” explained the Mage. “Theos had no appreciation for the skills of the rest of you, or he would not have been so rash.”

“But to banish him seems rather harsh,” stated Eulena. “I believe that he is good underneath the fury he presents to others.”

“Perhaps so,” shrugged the Mage, “but this mission is too critical to leave to chance. He will have to be replaced.”

“We were already one person short,” mentioned Zynor. “Now we are two short.”

Fakir raised an eyebrow at the Zaroccan’s words.

“At first I thought the spare unicorn was simply that, a spare,” reasoned Zynor, “but that is not true. There is yet another member of this team that you have chosen, for one reason or another, to exclude from our journeys. I wonder why that is.”

“If we are to learn about the others on this team,” offered Valera, “shouldn’t all of the members be traveling with us?”

“She has a point,” agreed Kalmar.

Fakir sighed and nodded. “The final member of the team would not be acceptable to the inhabitants of the Federation cities. We would be forced to avoid the cities. While you are correct, Valera, I decided that the good you are all capable of doing inside the Federation cities overruled my desire to complete the assembling of the team. I still feel that way. When the time is proper, I will make the team complete.” Fakir rose to his feet and gazed down at the others. “Now, it is time for us to abandon this camp. Let us put some distance between us and this battlefield tonight. After a short rest in our new campsite, we will head for Farmin where you may once again heal the sick.”

The group packed up their belongings and cleaned up the campsite. Fakir Aziz led them on a path that paralleled the Coast Road, but never came near it. Several hours later, he halted in a large clearing and dismounted.

“This place will do for the night,” he declared. “Set up camp and then get some rest.”

Without further explanation, Fakir Aziz walked out of the clearing and disappeared.

* * * *

The wizard bolted upright in his bed and stared into the darkness. For a moment he sat silently, listening to the sounds of the night. When he detected nothing unusual, he was about to return to sleep, but he then realized that he was sweating. He reached up and wiped his hand across his hairless head and felt the dampness on his palm. Curious, he got out of bed and walked to the window cut in the side of his tower. He leaned out and stared at the reflection of a crescent moon shining brightly on the surface of the vast lake. The air was deathly still; not even a slight breeze stirred the air.

“Odd,” the wizard mumbled to himself. “There is always a breeze of some kind.”

He twisted his neck to gaze upward and saw brilliant stars dotting the inky sky above. He looked down at the base of the tower, and a lump formed in his throat. Far below, two unicorns frolicked on the grass. He would have enjoyed watching the magnificent creatures, but the wizard understood what their presence meant. He turned from the window and quickly dressed. Hurrying out of his sleeping chamber, he made his way down the narrow winding stairs to the floor that held his library. He threw open the doors and gazed into the room.

“It has long been considered rude to enter a man’s library unbidden,” the wizard said to the figure sitting in the chair before the desk.

“I think such protocols are dependant upon the intent of the visitor,” smiled the Mage. “Obviously I have no interest in stealing your books, or even perusing them for that matter. Welcome me to your home, Atule.”

“It would be a little bit late for that,” scowled the wizard. “You seem to have already made yourself welcome. What do you want?”

“You know what I want,” replied the Mage.

“I have already given you my answer.” Atule shook his head vigorously as he rounded the desk and sat in his well-worn chair. “Get someone else.”

“I have already traveled that path,” sighed the Mage. “I would not have come back if your services were not needed.”

“Well, try again,” Atule replied sharply. “I am not available.”

“I could make you available,” frowned the Mage.

A look of concern passed over the wizard’s face. He glanced around at the thousands of volumes that comprised his library, and a shiver raced down his spine. He turned his head towards the Mage and sighed.

“We have been through this before. The magic of the jungle is tied to me. Should I leave Atule’s Maze, I will leave it unprotected. You agreed that such a failure would not be in anyone’s interest.”

“I still agree to that premise, but times have changed. Your women are moving out of the jungle to engage the world of men once more. Their need for protection diminishes with each passing day.”

“But it has not diminished entirely yet. Why not choose someone else?”

“I tried,” admitted the Mage, “but it did not work out. You know that I would not have come back here unless it was necessary. Am I wrong?”

Atule rose to his feet and started pacing the floor. Fakir Aziz waited patiently.

“Would you really force me to join you?” asked Atule.

“No,” smiled the Mage. “I only mentioned my ability to make you available, but it is not my way to demand what should be freely given. It is your choice to make, but it is my obligation to ask. You were given a tremendous gift, Atule. I am asking to borrow it.”

“Borrow?” balked the wizard. “I know well enough that any endeavor that requires my skill is likely to be a life-ending journey. Am I wrong?”

“I can make no promises of your continued existence,” stated the Mage.

“As I suspected,” sighed Atule. “Tell me what terrors we must face.”

“The greatest terror of them all.”

“I understand.” Atule nodded and moved to the window. He stared out at the lake and visualized the jungle beyond it. It had been his home for hundreds of years. A tear started to well up in his eye, and he hastily wiped it away. “I will have to inform Tsarana that her people will no longer be protected.”

“You will tell no one,” replied the Mage. “Pray that you will return home before she has need of your protection.”

“But I have promised her and her people,” protested Atule.

“And what have you promised her?” asked the Mage.

“That the jungle would be their refuge.”

“And so it shall. Surely you did not promise her that you would live forever? Or that the jungle would be enchanted forever?”

“No,” conceded the wizard.

“Then the only thing holding you here is your reluctance to join me. Give me your answer, Atule.”

“You have known my answer before you arrived here tonight,” sighed Atule. “I could only refuse with your permission. Let me gather some things to take with me.”

Dawn arrived in the Bloodwood before the Mage. When Fakir Aziz led Atule into the campsite, the others were already sitting around the fire enjoying the morning meal. The Mage began the introductions in the order in which the members had joined the group. Meaningless pleasantries were exchanged until he got to Crystil. The old hag bowed wordless to Atule when she was introduced. Atule frowned at the gesture, but Fakir Aziz continued with the introductions, ending with Eulena. The new arrivals joined the others around the fire and quickly finished up the morning meal. Fakir Aziz ordered everyone to pack up, and the group set off for the city of Farmin. Fakir Aziz led the way and the others followed in pairs. Atule rode alongside Zynor behind the Mage, followed closely by Eulena and Crystil. Valera and Kalmar trailed behind, and the Koroccan mage allowed a healthy gap to develop between them and the rest of the group.

“Is your unicorn lame?” Valera asked with concern. “We are falling behind.”

“There is no danger of losing track of the others,” Kalmar said softly. “I just wanted to talk about the newcomer without being overheard.”

“Ah,” Valera nodded with understanding. “So you noticed it, too?”

“Noticed it?” frowned Kalmar. “I do not know what you are referring to.”

“The bow,” replied Valera.

“Oh,” replied Kalmar. “Yes, I noticed that. I guess that is what clued me in to the name. So, Atule is the one that Atule’s Maze is named after?”

“He is Atule,” nodded Valera. “There is only one Atule.”

“So that is why Crystil bowed with such reverence,” stated Kalmar. “That makes sense now. I guess we should all be honored to be in his presence.”

Valera looked at the Koroccan mage as if he had said that the sky was green. She shook her head at how clueless Kalmar was. “That was not a bow of reverence. She was mocking him.”

“Mocking him? I do not understand.”

“That is stating the obvious,” laughed Valera. “You could see it in her face, although I am sure that the great Atule missed it as well. There is some deep-seated hatred for Atule burning in that woman’s heart.”

Kalmar frowned deeply and rode on in silence for a few minutes before speaking. “It appears that Fakir Aziz may have traded one trouble for another. I wonder if he is aware of the potential problem?”

“Very little seems to get past Fakir Aziz unnoticed, but this might be the exception,” answered Valera. “In any event, it will be interesting to see what develops.”

“Interesting? I just hope that whatever it is, it doesn’t get us all killed. The Federation is already tense after the escape of the elven children. It won’t take much to set off another crisis.”