by R. K. Thorne
She only narrowed her eyes further.
He stepped closer, looming over her and casting her form in shadow. “You wish to kill me,” he said. “I can see it in your eyes. This is why your kind must be enslaved. Corruption? Deviance? It’s all priestly poppycock. It’s because you’re dangerous. You can’t handle freedom.”
“Seems to me you can’t handle mastery,” she whispered.
“Ah, finally she speaks. I thought you might have lost your tongue. Now tell me—the brand.” He reached out and seized her neck with one hand, fingers slowly tightening.
Lost your tongue. She caught her breath. That was it. If he couldn’t give orders, the mages wouldn’t be bound to help him. If she could silence him or kill him quickly enough…
She closed her eyes, feigning pain but truly to concentrate. Reaching down into the earth, she summoned a single vine, coiling it and building up its strength even as his fingers slowly tightened against her skin.
Sucking in a breath, she struck, launching the vine from the ground as fast as she could manage. It caught the Tall Master at the throat, wrapping around insidiously and pulling tight.
She opened her eyes. The vine yanked him down to the ground savagely as his hands left Miara and clawed at his neck. She tore power from Sefim to strengthen the vine as it clenched tighter against the earth. Luckily, the talons at her neck were frozen still, the eagle mage staring in wonder.
But, no—she could feel the Tall Master fading, but it wasn’t enough. He might pass out from lack of air, but how long would that take? How much strength from her would it require? No, it was time to end this.
Ripping another vine from the ground, she gripped his head from another angle and twisted. She winced at the sickening crack as his neck broke.
The eagle mage’s grip loosened on her arm. Sefim stared down darkly at the still body. For a long moment, none of them moved, and it seemed the whole world had gone still.
Of all the places Daes had traveled, Akaria hadn’t often been his destination. Although he’d ridden through Akaria to reach Takar a few times, he’d gone by ship much more often. None of his trips had taken him through the White City.
Now, though, the road finally opened up from the forest, and he could see the city in the distance, a long and mostly flat plain full of grain fields between him and his prey. The towers rose up boldly before him, spires of white defiant against the sea and dusky horizon beyond. A worthy adversary, for once. But one he would still crush under his heel. The cold, bitter wind whipped around him, as if excited on his behalf, encouraging him. The sun was setting on the Akarian kingdom, and in its place, Daes would build something new. Something great.
Yes. This was his time now.
The Akarian capital’s walls were maybe four men high, just as his reports had showed, and the three gates were all where he’d expected them. Good. No failures there. Not yet at least.
“Vusamon!” he called out. The general rode up to his side. “Are you ready for a battle, my old friend?” Daes took a deep breath, almost tasting the anticipation in the air.
“As ever, Lord Consort.”
“Please. No formalities on the field. I’ll be dead before you can tell me what I need to know.”
Vusamon snorted, smiling a little. “I am ready. The men are ready. But night will fall within the hour. Shall we camp and wait for the morning? Let them stew in their fear?”
Daes frowned, shifting uneasily. Night was when the stars were out. When the star magic would be at its greatest. When he suspected they’d use it to free more mages. Could they free his whole force in the night, stealing away his advantage and leaving him to pummel the city with only swords, sticks, and rocks? They hadn’t even brought artillery, as it would have slowed them down. They shouldn’t need it. Assuming the slaves remained slaves.
“No,” he said quickly. “That’s what they’re expecting. They’ll use it to heat oil, load artillery. To prepare. Let us begin.”
“But my lord, the men need rest. Marching all day, and four days straight—”
“They got to rest at every lovely break in the road my mages had to fix. But let them rest here on the road. We’ll send the mages first and pummel them at night. Hold our soldiers in reserve. Maybe they’ll even think we’re camping—until they’re dead.”
Vusamon grinned. “As you wish, Lord Consort.”
“I told you, don’t call me that in battle.”
“We’re not in battle yet, Lord Consort.” And then with a broad grin, he angled his horse toward the mage leaders and lieutenants. “But soon.”
“You killed him,” whispered one of the mages.
The stillness of the area around Miara hung in sharp contrast to the clashes and screams of the battlefield behind them. Every mage stood stone still, the wind blowing the stench of the battlefield past them. Their cloaks flapped against their legs. Thunder broke over their heads from the storm the air mage had stirred—or was still stirring.
“She killed him,” another whispered. “What does that mean?”
The question pushed her into action. She ripped her eyes away from the Tall Master and glanced around. “It means you’re free. Or you will be. Now heal the Akarians,” she ordered. Sefim met her eyes, his expression a mix of darkness, sympathy, and hope. The other mages glanced around nervously at each other.
“Now!” she snapped. “We’re putting an end to this madness, now.”
One turned immediately, then another followed. A third caught her eye.
“Can we bring back Rikor?”
She frowned, not understanding.
The mage pointed at the horse. “Our air mage.”
“If he’s not going to cause trouble.”
“He won’t.” The mage inched closer to the horse, looking around for her friend. A few moments later, the rescued air mage twisted into a human form once again. He eyed Miara warily, shrinking against the horse.
Are we going to have a problem? she asked silently.
Are you going to kill me? he replied.
No. As long as your mission to kill me has ended.
Indeed, it has.
Clear up the sky then.
Yes, my lady.
Interesting. A Kavanarian wouldn’t know the meaning of the emerald. But she was handing out orders like she owned the place.
Which, now that she thought about it, she did.
“Are you all right?” Sefim asked.
“Yes,” she said briskly. “But we have to end this battle.” She spotted the mage-knots on the Tall Master’s belt. Bending down, she took the knots and his belt too and wrapped it around her waist. Strictly speaking, she didn’t need the knots, because she hoped not to command these mages ever to do anything other than stop fighting. But she certainly couldn’t have it falling into anyone else’s hands. She tied the leather knot and strode to the air mage’s horse, mounting as he backed out of the way. The soldiers still fought, but now some on both sides were healing.
A battle that could go on forever, people only dying when someone got lucky. Was that more horrible or less?
She charged forward through the line, taking no time to introduce herself to her poor mount while men and women were dying. “Stop!” she shouted. “It’s over! Stop!”
A few paused, but most opponents took that as an opening, and it left her words having little impact.
“Stop,” she barked, shouting now with both mind and voice at once. “I command you to stop!” She stretched out her mind over the battlefield, steeling herself against the pain and horror and suffering emanating up from the ground.
I command you. Stop at once.
She had rarely talked to two minds at once. Screaming out her words to all of them was far from easy, or pleasant, and the staggering drain of energy hit her almost immediately, but she reached for the mages to replenish her. They’d stolen most of that energy anyway.
This war is unjust. Akaria has done nothing. Your leader is dead. Kavanar is defeated. These slave
s will be freed. You, soldiers, lay down your arms and surrender.
Around her, slowly, some of them began to comply. Across the field, a flash of blond caught her attention. Warden Asten caught Miara’s eye, and they held each other’s gaze for a long moment before Asten nodded, her face grave but proud. Miara turned her eyes back to the field of fighters.
I will be your queen. I will not be denied. The mages are mine now and under my protection. They will no longer heal you. Fight till you’re dead, kneel and surrender, or turn your tail and run. It does not matter to me.
She raised her voice to a deafening roar. Drop. Your. Swords. Surrender!
Around her, wide-eyed soldiers staggered away from their weapons, abandoning them in the morass. One mage stumbled, another slumped against a companion, as she drained energy fast and hard. A handful of soldiers turned and ran, and more than a few cavalry at the edge of the battle headed for the hills. The thuds and clangs of weapons dropping were dull, muted by the squishing mud.
But they were the sweetest sounds she’d ever heard.
What Thel would have given for a creature mage right about then. His plan would be a lot easier if he could just be a small fox. A white one, preferably, to blend in with the snow. Or maybe a snow owl. Or a smaller white bird…
As it was, he was a dark blob of brown cloak that barely blended in with the trees. Low brambles abounded in the forest, and so they stayed hunched over, even crawling, as they inched closer to the Kavanarian troops.
They seemed to have stopped. Were they making camp? The sun was rapidly setting, so he supposed that made sense. They’d wait till morning to attack, hovering menacingly outside of Panar before striking.
He squinted at the troops and flattened himself against the ground, and Niat followed suit beside him. Neither of them were particularly stealthy, but being “scrawny” did have some benefits on occasion.
Time to give his ridiculous plan a shot.
His mind slid out from him, following the dirt, tracing along root and rock and rivulet toward the camp and then down along the road. He followed until he reached the most southern troops, and then he groped upward, reaching for anything that felt made of the earth.
A sword. He found a sword and infused it full of energy. It had to be blazing hot now, but it could also be in a scabbard. And he was going to have to heat way more than one sword before anyone would take much notice.
It was hard, slow, painstaking work, but soon he saw Niat’s eyebrows twitch. She smiled and glanced toward him, nodding. She must have heard something he didn’t. He didn’t see anyone remotely near them, so he let his mind expand back out into the earth and kept going.
The murmurs among the troops picked up, and soon some of them were speaking rapidly. Others were rushing back farther north into the camp.
Buying him some space. Away from Panar. Good.
He met Niat’s eyes, giving her a significant look, and she nodded once sharply. He returned the nod and then trained his eyes back on the camp—or more specifically, the land just beyond it.
He inhaled slowly, pulling in energy from the warmth of the earth as he went. Filling himself fuller and fuller, he reached farther down, until the warmth grew hot. Angry. Restless. He could feel its pent-up tension like it was a crick in his shoulder. Liquid pressed hard against solid rock, locked in an endless battle, no relief in sight.
But he could offer relief, couldn’t he? Following the convoluted description from the book, he reached down gently and created an opening. Pushing the earth apart just slightly. Then a little further. Then more, each time widening the gap beneath the ground. The liquid rock flowed and surged, following his path.
He could bring it farther. He could set it free.
In one final, wrenching blow, he cleaved the earth, and the hot, molten rock surged up and out, filling the broad canyon he’d torn in the rock and soil. The sides of the canyon surged up, but even still, the hot, liquid rock kept coming.
Screams from the camp told him they’d noticed—and that the bright-yellow rock was flowing over the heightened edges of the canyon.
He wrenched it farther, for good measure. He couldn’t see it with his eyes, but if his mind’s estimate was accurate—which was a big if—the canyon full of molten earth was at least four horses wide.
Another wave of rock surged over the sides, bigger this time. And there was no sign of it stopping… He glanced around. The encampment was transfixed by his handiwork.
“C’mon,” he whispered. “Let’s get out of here.”
Another wave of hot rock rushed up from closer to the earth’s center and poured over the canyon’s rim, Yes, that was much too close for his tastes, even at a few dozen yards away.
She grabbed his hand, tugging his mind out of the earth and back into his body, and they ran as fast as their legs could carry them.
Jaena gaped at the mound of black welling out of the forests on the horizon. Like ants, the Kavanarians seemed to writhe and spill over each other. They were a black pool spilling from the forest onto the plain, growing ever larger. Headed toward her.
From the north gate, they watched—she, Ro, Aven, Wunik, and Derk. Peering out, hands raised to block the last remnants of the setting sun, the cold wind whipped plaintively at her cloak. She could hear artillery being cranked back farther down the wall, the shouts of soldiers preparing.
“Don’t worry,” said Aven, trying to sound reassuring. “They’ve marched far. They’ll camp and wait for morning. Then we can free some of their mages, thin the force a little. Reduce their numbers.”
“How many can we really free?” Derk shrugged. “And make sure we aren’t out of commission in the morning?”
“We have to try,” said Aven.
“I agree. One less slave attacking me is worth it. But I just don’t know how far we’ll get.”
“I know.”
“Look,” said Wunik, pointing. “Tents. They are camping. They’ll wait till morning.”
Aven nodded and turned away from the sight of the oncoming army. “All right. I think we should get some rest. At least a few hours. When the stars come up tonight, Derk and I can take a shot at freeing the slaves. The rest of you, rest up for the morning. And be ready.”
Nodding, Jaena dragged herself away from the pool of Kavanarian soldiers and mages oozing across the plain toward them. Her hand still in Ro’s, he led her down the stairs and along the street back to Ranok. “Easy for him to say,” she said to Ro. “Rest? How can we rest?”
“I’m pretty sure I can think of a way to tire you out.” Ro grinned.
“Oh, and is that the way to spend our energies, with an enemy on our doorstep?”
“No better way, I should think.” He pulled her closer and slid his arm around her waist. “Especially if they’re the last energies we ever spend.”
“Don’t talk like that. It won’t be.”
They hadn’t mentioned their ceremony to anyone other than Kae. Not with Miara still missing. Oddly enough, in some ways nothing was different at all, and it all felt arbitrary. And yet in other ways, there was a subtle difference. An expansion, a sense that they were on this adventure together not just for today, or for next week, but for as long as their hearts were beating.
The streets were empty, save a few folks nervously eying the troops and then rushing back home. Those in homes in the outer rings had been ordered to move to more central buildings and temples, now crammed full of people. An eerie quiet had settled over the city, tense, waiting.
Afraid.
They were almost back to Ranok when the sound of stone crumbling, loud and harsh in the distance, reached her ears. She spun around, eyes searching the end of the long street for the walls, the gate.
But she didn’t need to see. She knew.
“Ro!” she whispered. “We were wrong. It’s beginning.”
He caught his breath as another loud crumbling crashed down. “C’mon,” he barked. “To the tower, like we planned.”
They sprinted down the rest of the street and up the tower they’d chosen for the mages to meet in. Stair after stair after stair after stair, and finally she was at the top, lungs burning to explode, legs aching, panting like an overheated dog. They were the first to arrive. Shit, should they have shared their realization before taking off up the tower? Were they wrong and all that sprinting had been for nothing?
She stared out at the city and its surrounding lands. There were tents. There were also mages approaching. A much smaller cluster was moving out from the group on horseback, headed for the city.
She could see the walls easily from here, too, one of the reasons they’d picked this tower. The north gate, the place where they’d just been, had been smashed into nothing but rubble.
She took a deep breath. Well, she couldn’t rebuild a gate accurately, but then, she didn’t need to. A pile of rubble was harder to cross than the gate, so let them destroy it. She just hoped no one had been inside. Hastily, she piled the rubble up even higher, making it as steep as she could.
Then underneath the small group of mages and horses, she gripped the earth and thrust it up into the air, sending bodies and unfortunate horses flying.
“How’s that for a distraction?”
Ro let out a bitter laugh. “Now let’s just hope they don’t do the same to us.”
“I’m ready,” she said, lowering her head. “C’mon, Kavanar. Show me what you’re made of.”
Aven staggered as the earth shook beneath his feet, acid shooting into his veins. By the gods—the north gate had just crumbled behind him.
He stood staring at it, his pulse racing. There had been three guards in there, three people with families and—could he save them—
No. It was already too late for that. He had to run. He dug in his heels and raced back to Ranok. Clearly the Kavanarians weren’t going to camp. At least not all of them.