Five tendrils of force—tight-light beams from the hand of the closest Tamloch wizard—cut in front of Eynon’s path. The fog made the beams easier to see and avoid. Eynon dodged around them and accelerated. Going faster proved an unwise strategy, however. Eynon had been boxed in. There were four green wizards, not three. The one in front of him cast a hemisphere of solidified sound that Eynon slammed into at high speed. One of the trailing wizards cast a matching hemisphere, locking Eynon inside a spherical shield he didn’t control. His opponents could direct the sphere’s motion and send him to be inspected by the senior crown wizards at the Tamloch encampment.
Eynon didn’t have time for that, not if Damon needed his help. He felt the heat-energy pulsing in his magestone after freezing the mud pot field, but wasn’t sure where or how to release it. He didn’t want to kill other wizards, even if they were from Dâron’s traditional opponent. He just wanted to get out of the sphere. Eynon first tried to talk his way out. He waved until both wizards controlling halves of the sphere were watching, then he shouted.
“I don’t want to hurt you, so please drop the sphere and get back. I don’t know how long I can control it.”
Eynon made sure the artifact with his red magestone was clearly visible on his chest and willed his stone to pulse even faster and brighter. The magestone’s red light seemed to cut through the diminishing fog.
“That’s a red magestone,” said one Tamloch scout-mage.
“I don’t like the look of it,” said another.
“Maybe it controls the boy, not vice-versa,” said a third.
“Stop scaring yourselves and squeeze that sphere,” came a gruff commanding voice belonging to the fourth scout. “You can be sure Túathal and Verro will want to inspect that red stone. There may be a bonus for us for capturing such an unusual prisoner.”
The sphere around Eynon began to contract. Eynon knew he could open up a congruency to outside the sphere to get more air, but it would soon be harder to move inside. He crafted a sphere of his own just inside the Tamloch wizards’ sphere and held it against further tightening. The third scout’s observation had given him an idea.
“Please,” he pleaded. “Let me go. The magestone is controlling me. It’s angry and wants to release all its energy in one big blast. I’m trying to get to the river so I’m the only one it will kill when it does.”
Eynon saw two of the scout-wizards look at each other uncertainly. He increased the speed and intensity of his magestone’s pulses for emphasis and could feel that his fabrication wasn’t completely fiction. His magestone did want to release its stored energy.
“I’m fine with this spy leaving the mustering field,” said one of the uncertain scout-wizards.
“We’re supposed to drive spies away, not capture or kill them,” said the other.
“Capturing spies is part of our job, you maggots,” said the gruff-voiced wizard. She continued her insults. “Any mage or mercenary with half a brain would know that.”
“You don’t have to call us names,” said the third scout-wizard. “Verro doesn’t call us names.”
“When you act like sniveling, cowardly maggots, I’ll call you whatever names I please,” said the gruff-voiced woman wizard.
“Now you sound like Túathal, not Verro,” said one of the others.
“I can’t hold it back much longer,” said Eynon. “It’s going to explode. I don’t want your deaths on my hands as well as my own.”
“You’re heading for the river,” said one of the uncertain scout-wizards. “You promise?”
“As fast as I can get there,” said Eynon. “Just drop your sphere and I’m gone.” It was hard for them to see Eynon’s face through the pulsing red energy filling the sphere.
“Go then,” said the wizard who’d created the front half of the sphere. He dispelled his creation and sped west on his flying disk, away from Eynon. He was joined by the woman who’d made the other segment of the sphere. She dropped her spell once the leading hemisphere vanished and joined her departing associate.
The gruff-voiced wizard didn’t say anything out loud, but Eynon’s augmented ears could hear her mutter, “Cowards,” at her departing squad members’ backs. She threw a pair of lightning bolts at Eynon, one from each hand. Enough of the crackling energy penetrated Eynon’s spherical shield—designed to protect against compression, not lightning—to set the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck standing. His red magestone pulsed still faster, and not by Eynon’s direction.
“Get back!” shouted Eynon.
Something in his voice convinced the scout-wizard who’d remained with the gruff-voiced leader to send his flying disk west after his squad-mates who had disappeared into the fog. Even the squad-leader moved to put more distance between herself and Eynon.
Partly for dramatic effect, and partly because his red magestone wanted to release its stored energy, Eynon sent a ball of heat and light up and out from the stone and gold setting around his neck. He used the moderating power of his blue magestone to constrain the intensity of the release, making it more light than heat. He strengthened the sphere around him to protect himself from the coming blast.
The ball detonated high above him, making the pre-dawn night brighter than noon for an instant. Heat from the explosion evaporated the fog for several hundred yards. Eynon saw the gruff-voiced scout-wizard, protected by a green-tinted elliptical shield, spinning end over end to the west like a grain of wheat caught by a thresher. He turned and caught a glimpse of the river. At least he’d been headed in the right direction.
Then Eynon saw three blue streamers of light in the sky above the Brenavon and set off at speed to find Damon as the first hints of dawn appeared on the eastern horizon.
Chapter 64
Fercha and Doethan
Fercha and Doethan flew south side by side. It made it easier for them to talk.
“What’s your theory?” asked Doethan.
“About Verro’s surprise?” asked Fercha.
“No, about the fundamental nature of wizardry,” said Doethan. “Of course about Verro’s surprise.”
“I think it connects to the southern Clan Lands, like Damon said,” Fercha replied. “Verro has probably formed an alliance and arranged for them to attack Dâron.”
“That’s plausible,” said Doethan. “If so, Verro must have a wide gate in place somewhere north of the Dormant Dragon.”
“How far north is the question,” said Fercha. “There’s a lot of territory to cover in a heavy fog, even with special lenses.”
“I know,” said Doethan, “but I think we can narrow down its location. It will be as close as possible to the Dâron army’s encampment while still being out of sight of our pickets and scout-wizards.”
“That’s as good a guess as any,” said Fercha. “I’ll change my lenses to look for magestones.”
“If you spot a big rectangle, you’ve found it,” said Doethan.
“Ha ha,” Fercha replied in a monotone.
“While you’re looking for the gate, I’ll look for the wizards Verro likely has guarding it,” noted Doethan.
“How far can you see through the fog,” asked Fercha.
Doethan turned his head left and right.
“Maybe fifty feet,” he said.
“You should look for magestones too, then,” said Fercha. “You’ll see the glow from wizards’ stones in this fog sooner than you’ll see their faces.”
“True,” said Doethan. He gestured to change his lenses then slowly rotated his flying disk once around. “No other wizards nearby,” he said.
“Good,” said Fercha once Doethan was facing in their direction of travel again.
They flew together in silence for more than a minute, scanning carefully.
“Verro is clever,” said Fercha. “He may have more than one surprise planned.”
“Is he clever, or crafty?” asked Doethan. “Do we need to look for something sneaky, or just unexpected.”
“The latter,”
said Fercha. “Túathal got a full measure of fox. Verro is more straightforward. He’s a mountain lion. You know he’s hunting you—he doesn’t need subterfuge.”
She thought back to the first time she’d seen Verro, when the young Tamloch wizard and his brother, the crown prince, had visited the court in Brendinas. He was tall, dark-haired, and so handsome her breath caught when she noticed him enter the refectory that magical morning. Fercha had been thrilled when Verro had taken the seat beside her at breakfast. They’d discussed advanced aspects of wizardry over eggs and bacon and had agreed to meet somewhere more private later to continue their conversation. They’d done more than talk.
Barely more than a girl herself, just twelve months past her sixteenth birthday, Fercha remembered the fights she’d had with her father about leaving Melyncárreg. Damon hadn’t wanted her to go to court. He’d said she looked too much like her mother and there would be questions, but she was ready to leave the confines of the Academy and prove herself in the wider world. She’d cut her hair short and charged it with a tiny bolt of lightning each morning, so the only thing people noted about her appearance was her resemblance to a dandelion in seed. It had worked. None of the nobles or servants had ever said, “You look just like Princess Seren,” even though Fercha was the same age as the princess when she’d disappeared. I have some of Damon in my face, she thought. That helped.
Nûd, on the other hand, had Verro’s height and coloring, but his face was a perfect match for the Young King’s, save for his dark hair and Dârio’s lack of it. His face also had a bit of Queen Carys showing through.
That’s why I didn’t fight Damon over my son. If Nûd had come to court, the palace, and soon the whole kingdom would be buzzing, thought Fercha. She reminded herself how much Nûd and Dârio resembled each other. From what Doethan had told her about Princess Gwýnnett and Túathal, the two young men were first cousins. It’s a good thing Dârio keeps his head shaved or the resemblance would be even easier to spot.
Fercha was glad Nûd was back in Melyncárreg, working on Eynon’s surprise. Verro didn’t know that Nûd existed, and Fercha wanted to keep it that way. It had been a relief to finally tell Nûd about Verro. She supposed that meant her son would seek out his father at some point and she’d have to answer for keeping their son secret from her husband, but with luck that wouldn’t happen today.
“What are you thinking?” she asked Doethan to deflect attention from her own reverie. Somehow it was easier to talk with Doethan as they flew side-by-side through the fog instead of facing each other across an inn table.
“This and that,” said Doethan, deflecting.
“You’re thinking about her, aren’t you? Princess Rúth.”
“What if I am?” asked Doethan. “Don’t remind me of our shared unrequited loves for Tamloch royals.”
Fercha didn’t think Doethan knew about the gate from her townhouse to Verro’s apartment in the palace in Riyas. They were friends, but she didn’t know if he’d approve of her continued connection to her husband, even if it was just to share a bed from time to time. Then again, maybe he’d be more envious than angry? she considered.
“When was the last time you spoke to her?” asked Fercha. She knew Doethan had given Princess Rúth one of his communications rings.
“More than a month ago,” said Doethan. “Just before the preparations for war ramped up. I’m afraid Verro may have recognized the ring for what it was. I asked Rúth not to wear it, but she told me it reminded her of me and she wasn’t taking it off.”
“She does love you,” said Fercha. “That’s obvious. She never married, even with dozens of suitors put before her.”
“I told her to pick one,” said Doethan. “I begged her not to give up her chance at a family, but she wouldn’t listen.”
“You’re saying she’s as stubborn as you are?”
“I guess I am,” said Doethan. “Túathal got guile, Verro got wizardry, and Rúth got…”
“You,” said Fercha. She nudged Doethan’s flying disk so he would glance over and see her smile.
“I was going to say stubbornness,” said Doethan. “You’re in much the same situation with Verro.”
“There’s plenty of that to go around,” Fercha commiserated.
An unexpected flash of red light washed over them. Doethan and Fercha spun their disks around to face north in time for their ears to be assaulted by a giant boom that echoed across the mist-covered landscape. A glowing crimson ball was expanding high above the distant horizon.
“Eynon?” asked Doethan.
“Probably,” said Fercha. “It resembles the one he cast above the Bifurland fleet. I hope the lad isn’t hurt.”
“I wouldn’t worry,” said Doethan. “With your old magestone and his red one, there’s not much he can’t handle.”
“Maybe,” said Fercha. “From what Merry’s told me, he’s far too trusting and inexperienced, like a puppy with big feet. I just hope he gets to Damon soon enough to be useful. The old man isn’t as strong as he was, but he’s too stubborn to admit it. He’s at another level of stubborn from the rest of us.”
“I can’t disagree,” said Doethan, “and I’m glad we’ve turned around.”
“Why?” asked Fercha.
“We missed Verro’s wide gate when we were distracted by the fireball,” Doethan replied. “Look down there, between those trees. It’s not far south of the Dâron army’s encampment.”
“As you predicted,” said Fercha.
“Sometimes I hate being right,” said Doethan. “How many wizards’ magestones do you see?”
“Eight,” said Fercha. “No, ten.”
“Is one of them Verro?” asked Doethan.
“I’m not sure,” said Fercha, “but I don’t think so.”
“Good,” said Doethan. “Only five-to-one odds. Those aren’t insurmountable. All we have to do is disrupt the gate’s circuit. Ready?”
Fercha looked down. From their movements, it was clear that the wizards guarding the gate had spotted them.
“Ready,” she said.
The upcoming confrontation didn’t worry her. Fercha’s larger concern did.
Where was Verro?
Chapter 65
Freezing the Brenavon
Eynon skidded his flying disk in for a landing on the broad flat rock next to the river. To his surprise, King Dârio caught his arm to keep him from tipping over.
“What are you doing here?” asked Eynon.
“Making sure our Roma allies can cross the Brenavon,” said Dârio. “Why are you here? I thought the rest of you were coming to the royal army’s encampment about this time.”
“We were,” said Eynon, “Then I got an idea for a way to surprise the Tamloch army and…”
“Wait, lad,” said Damon. “Not out here in the open. Voices carry.”
“Yes, sir,” said Eynon. He just realized the Master Mage was standing nearby in a shimmering outfit, next to an older woman wizard in heavy dark-blue robes.
Damon gave Eynon an exasperated look and Eynon mouthed, “Yes, Damon,” to earn a smile.
“This is my…” began Dârio, extending an arm to indicate Astrí.
“…great-grandmother’s personal wizard,” said the woman in heavy robes. “I’m Astrí—and I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Really?” asked Eynon. “From whom?”
“I have my sources,” said Astrí with a twinkle in her eye. “We can talk about it later. Now we need to freeze a river.”
Damon stared down at the damp surface of the flat rock, not catching Eynon’s eye. He seemed ashamed, but Eynon had never seen him express that emotion before.
Dârio used his arm to direct Eynon’s attention again, this time to the Brenavon. Its surface was covered with a thin coating of ice, some of it cracked. Eynon could see through it. He looked at Damon, but the old wizard didn’t raise his head.
Astrí spoke. “Damon’s not feeling well today,” she said. “He’d appreciate it if you’d f
reeze the river.”
“Me?” asked Eynon.
“Yes, young man,” said Astrí.
“But I only know how to freeze mud,” said Eynon. “I’ve never tried to freeze a river. How is it done?”
Astrí touched Damon’s arm. “Show the lad,” she said. “You’ve always been a good teacher. You taught me.”
Eynon looked at the two wizards together. They seemed to be much the same age. Astrí must have been one of Damon’s older students, he considered. His eyes widened when Astrí took Damon’s hand and tugged him to stand at the far end of the rock. She beckoned Eynon to join them. Dârio followed, observing from one side.
Astrí lifted Damon’s head with her hand. It fell back. She did it again and this time, to Eynon’s amazement, she kissed the Master Mage. It was a serious kiss and Eynon turned his head, but not before he saw Dârio grinning. Turning back for a quick glance, Eynon saw that Damon had put his arms around Astrí and was returning her kiss enthusiastically. Eynon focused on the river, trying to sense the structure of the ice and how it differed from liquid water.
A minute later, Damon coughed and Eynon turned back. The old wizard’s posture was straighter, and his head was no longer focused on the flat rock. He had his arm around Astrí and a warm smile on his face.
“Let me show you how it’s done,” said Damon. He reluctantly released Astrí and faced the river. Eynon watched as Damon extended his arms. He sensed his mentor open a congruency to a place of intense cold and use patterns of solidified sound to channel a chill wind out over the water. Eynon felt a pulse from his blue magestone. It could help him do what Damon had done. The ice was getting thicker. You couldn’t see through it in several spots.
The Congruent Wizard (The Congruent Mage Series Book 2) Page 36