Trail of the Gods: The Morcyth Saga Book Four (45 page)

Sending forth the magic, he again detonates
the fireball before it has a chance to close the distance.

“You okay?” shouts Jiron as he and Aleya
kick their horses into a gallop.

Shaking his head, James replies, “Not
really.” Racing along the fringe of the fire, he begins to feel a
gradual increase in the tingling. Suddenly, the speed of the wind
increases rapidly as it begins whipping the fire into a roaring
inferno directly at them.

A flaming stalk of grass which had been
picked up by the wind strikes Aleya on the shoulder, sparks fly as
she cries out from the burns. Flailing her arms wildly, she gets
the burning brand off her but not before it ignites her long
hair.

Jiron spies her predicament and brings his
horse close where he uses his hand to put out the flames which had
begun consuming her hair. When the fire is out only a small portion
of her hair had been singed by the fire.

“Thanks,” she says.

“Welcome!” he shouts back to her over the
roaring of the fire pursuing them. Glancing back behind them to
where James is following, he sees him beginning to secure himself
in the saddle with a rope which had been coiled on the saddle.

All of a sudden, they break out from the
fire line and Jiron turns them due north as they race around the
edge of the fire, putting it between them and their pursuers.

The wind changes course with an increase in
the tingling sensation as the pursuing mage tries to alter the
course of the wind to redirect the fire to stop them.

Jiron slows slightly to allow James to catch
up. When he does, he says to Jiron, “You know what to do?” Jiron
nods in reply.

To Aleya, James says, “Whatever happens,
stay with Jiron.” When he sees her nod, he continues, “If we should
get separated, we’ll meet at the first inn, an hour’s ride north of
Kern. Wait there a day, then head up to Trendle. Find a Forest
Warden there by the name of Ceryn and let him know what happened.
Got that?”

She again nods her head. “What are you going
to do?” She asks, a touch of fear in her voice. Whether it’s from
what he might do or those pursuing them is hard to tell.

“Just do it!” he yells at her then closes
his eyes.

She glances to Jiron who looks at her grimly
and shrugs. “Don’t ask me,” he tells her. “But whatever he’s about
to do won’t be pretty.”

Swallowing hard she looks ahead of them and
gasps. Arrayed across the field a mile before them, situated
between them and Kern, are hundreds of soldiers, both mounted and
foot. Another several hundred archers are positioned behind
them.

“Oh my god!” she cries.

Summoning the magic, James wrestles for
control of the wind. His adversary is very strong, but like him,
has already used most of his magic reserves in the battle thus far.
In his mind’s eye, it almost seems like a tug of war as the winds
are pulled first one way then another. They’re both evenly matched,
neither able to take complete control from the other.

“James!” he hears Jiron exclaim. Opening his
eyes a fraction, he sees the men arrayed before them.
Damn!
Closing his eyes once more, he abruptly changes tactics.

From the tales he’s heard of this mage he
was at first worried about meeting him head to head. True, he was a
mage of some power in his own right, trained by the Empire’s
greatest living masters. When as a boy he had been tested along
with others whom they felt had real potential, he was the only one
to be selected for their School of the Arcane.

He first came to hear of this rogue mage
when Zythun had been killed in the cataclysmic explosion at the
City of Light. Not only killing him but taking out a good third of
the forces which had been sent with him.

Then several more of their brethren had
perished in duels with this man, leaving only a handful of full
Adepts left in the Empire. The others he can understand him
besting, they were not as powerful as Zythun had been, but Zythun?
He was one of the most powerful and skilled of all the Adepts. Only
a few could claim to be better.

So when he first felt the rogue mage on the
plains of Kern, he felt dread come over him, as if his doom was
nigh. He didn’t expect to live through the encounter as he rode out
to keep him from reaching the protection of the Cardri army. Yet,
the rogue mage has done nothing he’s been unable to counter. In
fact, he seems to be getting the better of him in the struggle for
the winds.

Pushing the winds toward the mage, driving
the fire to consume him, he can feel the force of the mage’s power
begin dwindling, as if he’s already used too much of his inner
power. Encouraged, he continues attempting to wrest total control
of the winds from this upstart.

Sudden movement from the flames ahead of him
catches his eye and he slows his horse. Pausing not ten feet from
the inferno, he scans the flames ahead of him. Something’s odd
about the flames, though he can’t quite put his finger on it.

Suddenly, lurching out of the flames toward
him, walks a six foot tall figure of flame. Staggering awkwardly,
the fiery figure moves quickly as it closes the distance between
them.

Neighing in fear, his horse rears backward
at the fire creature’s approach and knocks him off. Hitting the
ground hard, the mage lands on his leg at the wrong angle and the
bone snaps. The pain breaks his concentration and he feels the
rogue mage wrest complete control of the winds.

Looking up from his position on the ground,
he sees the lumbering figure of fire coming for him. Crying out
from pain as the fiery figure’s hand touches him, he tries to scoot
backward in a vain attempt at escape. But the fire continues up his
arm until he’s engulfed in a fiery embrace and his screams echo
across the plains as the flames consume him.

Keeping his eyes closed, pain erupting from
behind his forehead from creating and maintaining the fire
creature, he tries to stay on this side of consciousness. With the
mage’s death, he’s now in total control of the winds. Struggling
against the pain which threatens to break his concentration, he
directs the winds to push the fire back toward the Empire’s
approaching troops. He can feel more than see them beat a hasty
retreat as the fire changes directions and moves rapidly toward
them.

Opening his eyes a fraction, he sees Jiron
and Aleya slightly ahead of him riding fast toward the line of
Cardri troops. Archers are putting arrows to string and the pikemen
in the front line lower their pikes, forming an impenetrable wall
of death.

James slows his horse and when the others
take notice, they slow theirs as well. Still in control of the
winds, he increases their velocity between them and the
soldiers.

“They’re Cardri’s!” Aleya yells at him. “The
forces from Kern!”

Nodding that he understands, he again closes
his eyes and concentrates. Sweat is pouring down his face as he
pushes the winds into ever greater ferocity. Heart thumping wildly,
he wonders just how much more he’ll be able to do. Hopefully,
enough to see them through.

“What’s going on!” hollers Aleya.

Beginning to recognize what James is doing,
Jiron pulls a cloth out of his back and begins wrapping it around
his face. “Cover your face!” he yells to her.

“What?” she yells back.

“Cover your face!” he repeats as he ties the
cloth into place.

The wind continues to increase in intensity
and dirt begins stinging her face as it’s whipped off the ground by
the wind. Understanding finally dawns on her, she pulls a piece of
cloth from her pack and wraps it around her face as well. She
glances back to James and can see he’s still in deep concentration,
Jiron has the reins to his horse in hand.

“Now!” yells James, his voice cracking from
the exertion of trying to bend the winds to his will. The air
between them and the lines is all but occluded by the amount of
dust and dirt being picked up by the winds.

Turning to Aleya, Jiron yells over the roar
of the wind, “Let’s go!” Getting his horse in motion, he begins
moving to the left flank of Cardri’s lines in the hopes of
bypassing them without being seen. As they go, the air continues to
increase in density as the wind keeps slamming into the ground,
drawing more and more dust into the air. In just a few more
moments, the lines of Cardri’s soldiers can no longer be seen.

“Hurry!” James tells them, barely heard over
the wind. “Can’t hold this much longer.”

Breaking into a gallop, Jiron continues to
lead them toward where he believes the flank of Cardri’s forces to
be. The dust in the air is providing them ample cover in which to
hide and be able to sneak across the lines unseen. When he believes
he’s passed their flank, he turns them due west.

Suddenly before them, the line of Cardri
soldiers appears out of the storm. He’d miscalculated and had
brought them directly into their lines. The men have their faces
covered in order to protect their eyes from the flying dirt and
fail to see them as they appear out of the storm.

Unable to stop, Jiron plows right into their
lines. Men cry out and swords flash. Keeping tight hold to the
reins of James’ horse, he continues forging his way quickly through
their lines. With the flying dust adding to the confusion of just
what is happening, he’s able to bring himself and James past the
first group of men quickly.

A space of ten feet separates the footmen he
just went through and the archers positioned behind them. Not
having any choice, he continues on through their lines as well,
knocking archers to the ground, all the while praying he doesn’t do
any a serious injury. He realizes he can’t stop to see about their
well being, he’d be taken for an attacker for sure.

The storm continues to rage, the dust now so
thick he can’t even see the end of his horse’s nose. He finally
realizes that he’s past the archers when after a minute’s further
riding, he no longer comes into contact with any.

He slows to a stop and pulls James’ horse
close. “We’re through,” he hollers. “You can stop now!” Whether
James heard him or not is hard to tell, he’s slumped over in his
saddle and is making no indication that he’s even alive let alone
heard him.

Looking around quickly, he realizes Aleya is
no longer with them. They must’ve been separated when going through
the lines. “Aleya!” he yells but her name is lost in the roar of
the storm.

Getting them moving, he just hopes she
remembers to meet them at the inn like James had suggested. At the
time he thought it was odd that he suggested that, he never did
that before. Maybe he had already known what he was going to do
when he said it.

The storm begins to subside and he picks up
their speed as the ground before them becomes more distinct. Off to
their right, the wall of the fortress is a dim shadow in the still
swirling dust storm. Shapes can be seen moving around the area and
he kicks his horse into a faster gallop in order to clear the area
before the storm completely dies. Once he finds the north road on
the far side of Kern, he breaks into a fast gallop and quickly puts
it behind them.

When the storm had begun in earnest, Aleya
had been nervous. Never has such a storm developed so quickly.
Glancing to James, she just wonders what kind of man he is, that he
can control even the winds.

Following Jiron as he heads along their
lines, she’s thankful that he told her to cover her face with the
cloth. The continuous peppering by the sand and rocks had begun to
sting terribly.

As the storm rages in intensity, it becomes
increasingly difficult to keep Jiron in sight. She finally has to
ride with her horse just scant inches behind his to keep from
losing him in the storm.

Then suddenly, they’re among the troops from
Kern. Her horse is struck by a pike and she’s thrown to the ground,
landing among the troops. Only the severity of the storm allows her
to not be readily noticed by them. Getting up, all she can see
around her are the indistinct forms of the soldiers. Jiron and
James are nowhere to be seen.

Cries and shouts from the men around her are
blown upon the wind, their meanings lost. Realizing she’s got to
get out of there, she begins forcing her way through the lines.

A soldier suddenly appears before her, an
officer by his uniform. “Back in line soldier!” he yells at her.
The cloth over her face hides her features so well, he believes
she’s one of his own troops. As she comes to within a foot of the
officer, she acts like she’s stumbled. When he comes to help her,
she lashes out with her shoulder and knocks him off balance and
into the surrounding men.

Crying out, the officer stumbles backward as
she races past. Behind her, the officer as well as his shouting,
soon disappears in the roar of the storm. Moving quickly, she makes
her way through the now disorganized lines. The storm has certainly
reduced the moral of the troops, she can hear words of fear and
dread coming from those she’s making her way through.

Suddenly, one young soldier grabs her and
cries, “What’s happening?” Fear evident in the young man’s voice.
Hating to do it to someone as terrified as him, she quickly
disengages herself from his grip and shoves him backward away from
her.

Moving past another soldier, she finds
herself in the space between the footmen and the bowmen. It’s at
this time the storm begins to subside and the visibility gradually
improves.

“You!” a shout breaks through the storm
behind her. She turns around and another officer stands staring
straight at her. Fear at being found out immobilizes her as she
stares into his eyes.

The officer then points to the squad of
bowmen behind her and orders, “Get back in line!”

The bow on her back must make him believe
she’s one of his troops. With the visibility improving, there’s
little chance of her succeeding in bulling her way through the
archers as she had with the footmen. So she moves and takes
position in line with the other archers, praying that she will not
be found out.