The Consuls of the Vicariate (16 page)

“Hear what?”

“Yelling, perhaps?” He stood and approached the window. Valyrie got up to stand at his side.

On the street below stood four men, three militiamen and a fourth man opposite them, some twenty paces away. The guard in the front was pointing at the fourth, a man clad in black from head to foot. Valyrie spied red markings along the back of the man’s cloak, but she couldn’t derive their meaning or purpose. All she knew for certain was that she had never seen such markings.

The guard leader stepped closer to the man, and the unknown man held up his hand. Valyrie was left breathless when she recognized what he held in that hand—a wand. “Mages? Here?”

Jurgen took a deep breath, his eyes widening. “They’ve come for us, Valyrie.”

“Who? Who are they?”

“I do not know. Go to my room and retrieve the weapons.”

“Weapons? What weapons?” she asked, trying to control her panicked breathing.

“I procured two swords.” Jurgen pointed. “Get them. It seems we shall need them in due course.”

Bursting through the door, she searched the room and found the swords leaning against the bed.
I wonder if Jurgen’s ever used these
.
No matter
.
Fighting gives us a better chance than doing nothing
.

She crept to the window when she heard a loud noise outside, and she caught a glimpse of a bolt of lightning before it fizzled out of existence. One of the militiamen lay dead, smoke rising from his chest. Trembling, she watched the two remaining guards rush the man in black. One of the militiamen blew hard on his whistle. The chirp echoed off the buildings and into the night air.

Please, take him down
. She eyed the swords in her arms.
If left to us, we’ll fare no better than the dead man.
A blast of swirling flames took one of the militiamen to the ground. The other grappled with the man in black, trying to wrest control of the wand. In the chaos of the struggle, a stream of fire shot from the wand, igniting the roof of a house across the street. The flames quickly swept across the roof, and people ran out screaming.

With apparently all of the strength he could muster, the militia man pulled the mage’s hand to his right. Valyrie saw the tip of the wand pointing her way, and she took a few steps backward. An explosion deafened her and incinerated half of the room in a flash of light. She felt the floor give way, and she reached out through the smoke and debris flying through the air, catching a plank before she fell through to the first floor.

A haze came over her, and she felt the prickles of wood splinters lodged in her skin.
If you can feel that, you’re still alive. Pull yourself up before the next spell!
With all her might, she tried to lift her body onto the landing, but it was no use. She looked below, and though she thought she would survive the fall, landing in a pile of broken wood, nails, and bricks made her think twice about letting go. Glancing up, she saw a hand close to her face, and she grabbed it.

Jurgen pulled her up, then brought her into the common room. “The swords, where are they?”

“I don’t know,” she said, shaking with fear and pain. “They might’ve fallen.”

“No matter. We have to get out of here.” Jurgen helped her to the stairs. When they had made it halfway down, the top of the house exploded in a firestorm. He ran, almost lifting her off the ground as he pulled her behind him, and burst through the door into the street.

She stared at the man in black, his eyes seemingly full of rage upon seeing them emerge from the burning structure. Losing no time, Valyrie grabbed Jurgen’s hand and ran toward the closest portcullis leading out of the Ancient Quarter.

She spotted two militia guards running up a narrow lane, and she didn’t stop running until she reached them. “Mage…” Leaning over, she rested her hands on her knees and tried to catch her breath. “A man in black attacking—”

“Val,” one of the guards said.

She squinted. “Lae?”

Laedron took her hand. “Attacked you? Creator! You look like you’ve been through the hells.”

“I’ll be fine, but one of the militia fights with him still. You’ve got to stop him.”

Laedron turned to Jurgen. “Return to headquarters with Valyrie. We’ll take care of this one. Tell Piers what has passed here and have him send help.”

She took Laedron in an embrace. “Be careful. We’ll see you back at the chapel.”

The hug seemed to last an eternity, the safety of Laedron’s arms filling her with a warmth she hadn’t felt for a long time. Clearing his throat, Laedron returned her to Jurgen’s side, then took off with Marac toward the west gate.

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Chapter Eleven →

Crossing Wands

L
aedron peered through the entry into the Ancient Quarter with a heavy heart. He recalled how powerful Gustav had been, and he only hoped that he had a chance at fighting the mage who was somewhere beyond. Then, he caught sight of a man in black rushing toward them, probably in pursuit of Jurgen and Valyrie.

The man stopped a hundred paces away and stared at Laedron and Marac, seeming to study them as they approached. Laedron paused after passing the portcullis and reached into his boot.

“No,” Marac said, readying his shield. “You can’t.”

“We stand no chance otherwise.” Laedron drew Ismerelda’s scepter.

“Houses ablaze ahead,” the man yelled, starting toward them again. “Several men dead, and a madman slashing about. I must leave this crazed place.”

“Not so fast.” Laedron held up his rod. “The houses may be on fire, but we’ll handle that in due time. The madman of whom you speak is you, Sorcerer, and we shall deal with you now!”

“Deal with me?” The man chuckled, then raised his wand. “Since you’ve made it clear that you know what I am, why don’t you simply let me pass? We’ll forget the matter, and you’ll live.”

The man must not have noticed what Laedron held, and Laedron decided to use that to his advantage.
If he doesn’t know I’m a mage, he might not notice a ward spell on Marac’s shield
. Laedron whispered an incantation under his breath, concentrating on the ruby set in the scepter. Marac’s shield glowed dimly with a silver vibrancy not unlike the color of its paint, and Laedron moved to stand behind him. Pushing Marac forward, he maintained the spell, and Marac continued at a steady pace and drew his sword.

The man in black sighed. “Another group of militia who don’t know a good deal when they hear one, it would seem. Very well. Only a bit of time wasted.”

The sorcerer flicked his wand while speaking a spell, and a lightning bolt flashed across the open ground, squarely striking Marac’s shield. Marac faltered for a moment, but pushed forward again once he had recovered.

“Wooden shield? That’s fine. How about a little fire?” the man shouted, raising his wand once more. With the utterance of some words, a ray of flames shot from the end of the man’s wand and crashed into Marac’s shield. Though Laedron could feel the heat warming his flesh, he kept his concentration strong.
A loss of focus will mean my death and Marac’s
.
I won’t let my friends down again!

“What’s this?” The man sounded nervous. “Unaffected? Impossible!”

His head aching, Laedron released the spell and stepped out from behind Marac. “No, not impossible, not when magic is involved.”

“You… what do you know of magic?”

“Enough.” Laedron flicked his wrist and shouted an incantation before the man in black could react. A swirling black and red stream of energy struck the man’s hand, causing him to drop his wand.

“Another sorcerer? How can this be?” The man grasped his wand hand and winced. “How can this be?”

“You shall have plenty of time to think about the answer to that question in jail.”

The man laughed and reached for his fallen wand, but Laedron quickly cast again, shattering it.

“No, no more spells,” Laedron said. “You’re coming with us.”

“What is the meaning of this?” a voice shouted from Laedron’s right. “What are you doing?”

Laedron glanced in the direction of the voice, then closed his eyes, regretting that he had displayed the rod in public. He had become the focus of a squad of militia who had happened upon his flank. He was unable to keep the cold chills from racing up and down his spine, the fear of being half a world away from his home and fully exposed before those who would see his kind dead.

On his knees, the man in black raised his face to the sky and cackled. Even though the man surely knew he was condemned to death, he seemed to take pleasure in the fact that he wouldn’t be alone on the gallows. Hatred and anger welled up inside Laedron, and he counted the guards, considering for a moment if he could defeat them all.

“Drop it,” Marac said, tapping Laedron on the hand with the flat of his blade. “Put the thing down and come peacefully with us.”

Good, Marac
.
At least one of us stands a chance of getting out of here alive
. Laedron put his scepter on the ground and held his hands outstretched at his sides.

“They’re in it together,” the other sorcerer started before taking Marac’s boot to the face.