Trail Of The Torean (Book 2)

by Ron Collins

  The odor of blood was cloying.

  Red fire played on the Koradictine’s fingertips.

  Garrick focused his life force on the tip of his sword as he swung the blade. It took the wizard under the rib cage just as he released his spell. The mage fell to the ground and white pain flared in Garrick’s chest.

  He stood over the mage, then, blood pounding, his body burning with new hunger.

  The Koradictine was still alive.

  A grotesque grin crawled across Garrick’s face. A staggering need for vengeance flooded his mind. He caressed the life force inside the injured mage, molded it as he bent forward, thinking about Alistair, thinking about his fellow apprentices, and thinking about the orders’ cowardly attack on him in Caledena.

  Someone will pay, Garrick thought.

  Someone will pay.

  Light flared around him.

  Energy crackled in the space between his fingers.

  The wizard screamed from his place on the ground—a terrified, inhuman scream. Then he was done, and the wizard’s body lay in a huddled mass amid the forest undergrowth.

  Sweat broke over Garrick’s forehead.

  He had done it. He had ripped a man’s life force straight from his living body.

  Blue magelight rose behind him.

  He turned to see the Lectodinian leader, palm burning with illumination as he peered toward Garrick, his eyes hooded and his lips set in a tight line.

  Garrick stepped into the clearing, his sword dripping Koradictine blood. His eyes were bloated and red-rimmed with the power of new life force.

  “You are a demon,” the mage said.

  “No,” Garrick replied as he strode toward the wizard. “But you’re going to wish I was.”

  The Lectodinian kicked at his horse’s flank, and pulled its reins to turn it around. “Your luck is strong tonight,” he said to the woman as he doused his magelight.

  Then the horse thundered into the darkness.

  Unnoticed, Darien stepped from behind a tree as the mage passed. He reached up and pulled the rider roughly off his saddle. The man’s body hit the ground with a solid thud. Darien quickly placed a knee on Elman’s chest, then roped his hands and feet with cord.

  Garrick stood over them both.

  The power of their life forces was bold, the aroma sweet and strong. Wild magic boiled inside him as he reached toward Darien’s hunched form.

  No! he thought to himself.

  He pulled back and put his shaking hand to his temple, gasping as the hypnotic focus he had been under was broken.

  “Are you all right?” Darien said, looking up.

  “Yes,” Garrick answered, perhaps too quickly. “That was well done.”

  “Thank you,” Darien said, apparently oblivious to the full extent of Garrick’s struggle.

  The woman called from the clearing.

  “If the meeting of your mutual admiration society is over, maybe one of you could lend me a hand?”

  Darien smirked.

  “You want to help drag this guy back over there?”

  The mage was still gasping for breath.

  Garrick thought or a moment. “I think it best that you gather him up yourself,” he said.

  Darien looked at him askew.

  “Trust me on this one.”

  “Yes, mighty wizard,” Darien replied. “I hear and I obey.”

  Garrick ignored Darien’s sarcasm and returned to the clearing where the woman stood like a ferryman, her own magelight now raised in her hand. She was struggling to get her foot dislodged.

  “Those were my favorite boots,” she said, peering at her feet with disgust.

  “Sunathri, I assume?” Garrick said.

  “You can call me Suni,” the woman replied. She stood straight and looked directly at Garrick. “And if you are who I expect you are, I’ve been looking for you.”

  Chapter 12

  Suni was, quite simply, beautiful. Her cheekbones were rounded, her jaw triangular. Shocks of dark hair fell over her forehead and flowed down her shoulders. She winced as she tried to untangle her leg, struggling against her sorcerous trap with stately grace despite cradling her ribcage with a willowy arm.

  Holding her magelight low, she bent to examine her foot.

  “Are you going to help me?” she asked.

  Garrick drew a dagger from his belt and knelt to the task as Darien dragged the Lectodinian into the clearing.

  “Hold on, Garrick,” Darien said.

  Garrick paused, and both he and Suni turned toward his friend.

  “Shouldn’t we ask her a few questions before we set her free?”

  “There’s a gentleman for you,” she said.

  “If the orders were chasing her, she’s trustworthy enough for me,” Garrick replied. He turned back to hack at the webbing that held her captive. A moment later she was free.

  She flexed her leg, and scowled at the damage to her boot. She winced again when she took a deep breath.

  “How badly are you hurt?” Garrick asked.

  “It’s nothing that won’t heal. I’m more worried about my horse.”

  He nodded with understanding. “Let me go look at him.”

  “It’s all right. I can handle putting down my own mount.”

  “I may be able to avoid that.”

  “Not a chance.” She winced as she breathed deeply again.

  “Let me do this,” Garrick replied. “I’ve always been pretty good with horses. Besides, you can hardly move.”

  He leveled what he hoped was a commanding stare at her.

  “All right,” she finally said.

  Her relieved expression told him all he needed to know. Despite her steeled demeanor, she hated the idea of putting the animal down.

  He looked at Darien.

  “We’ll talk about what to do with the mage when I return. In the meantime why don’t you gather up the rest of the horses?”

  Darien nodded. “All right.”

  The horse lay on its side, breathing heavily, staring at Garrick with frightened eyes, and smelling of lather that came of hard running.

  Garrick shuddered.

  He had known the injuries would be bad, but seeing them turned his stomach. Both front legs were broken and bleeding.

  He rubbed the horse’s flank and spoke in a voice so soft it might have been a song. He bent to the animal, working Braxidane’s magic down the horse’s shoulders and slowly into its forelegs. Energy flowed and he did his best to work with it. The damage was great, but Garrick merged so deeply with the beast that he could feel the calcium coarseness of its bones and the smooth grace of the muscles around them. He brought fractures together, willed growth, and felt blood and marrow surge once again.

  The horse stirred and whinnied.

  Garrick pulled back then, sweat making his shirt cling to his shoulder blades. He shivered in the cool evening.

  The horse stood, nickering at first. Then it tested its legs for firmness, picking each up with stork-like dressage, and prancing before finally standing proud and still in the nighttime.

  The animal’s coat shimmered with starlight.

  It gave a throaty huff and bowed its head, its eyes huge and dark.

  Garrick bowed his own head in return, feeling something deep inside him that he would never be able to describe to anyone.

  The animal turned away then, walking toward the clearing where Darien and Suni would be waiting.

  He emerged to find Suni bent and examining the horse’s forelegs.

  “He has no scars,” she said.

  She waited, but Garrick did not respond.

  He was tired, and merely making it safely back to the clearing was more taxing than he wanted to admit.

  Darien returned to the clearing leading the horses of each of the felled mages.

  “The bodies are still in the woods,” he said. “Perhaps we should burn them.”

  “Burning’s too good for them,” Suni replied.

  “I’ll not leave th
em here to rot,” said Darien.

  “We can wait until morning to decide,” Garrick said. He glanced around, feeling suddenly claustrophobic under the canopy of the trees whose leaves were freshly formed. “We need to rest, and I want to take a look at your ribs.”

  Sunathri started to argue, but nearly doubled over when she drew a breath to speak.

  “All right,” she finally said.

  Sunathri went first, holding magelight ahead of her. Darien was next, dragging the Lectodinian and giving her directions. Garrick walked behind, leading the horses.

  When they reached camp, Darien dropped the Lectodinian alongside the rocky wall and set to bringing their fire back to life.

  Suni sat by the embers and reached her good hand out to warm herself.

  Garrick knelt beside her. “Give me your arm,” he said.

  She grimaced when he moved it.

  He took her hand in his, and put the palm of his other hand low on her ribcage. She was thin, but strong, her hand chilled and dry. His fingers trembled, but he knew it had little to do with the wild magic inside him. Sunathri, he decided, was a fiercely attractive woman.

  “Where does it hurt?”

  “Farther up. When I breathe,” she said.

  He slid his hand up her ribcage. “Here?”

  “Farther—aaghh!”

  He pulled back. What little life force he retained stirred in aggravation.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “I’m the one who should be sorry,” she replied, biting her lip. “Can you fix it?”

  “We’ll see.”

  He reached inside himself and tried to stir the life force that remained. The energy was easier to handle now that the current wasn’t as strong. The taste of honey came to him. He focused on her ribs, but couldn’t ignore the whole of her essence. Sunathri was motion. She was confidence.

  He poured energy into her and felt bone draw together.

  She sighed, taking a deep, pain-free breath.

  Their faces had drawn together as he worked. She was so close. He could kiss her. He could taste her lips and wrap himself around her. He could draw her in and …

  His hunger rose through the depths, dark and cold and already ravenous. He felt his hand reaching toward her. He felt …

  Garrick pulled back, blinking with horror at the thought of what he had been about to do. His heart thudded in his chest, and his palms were suddenly clammy.

  “It’s all right,” Suni whispered.

  But, no. It wasn’t all right. It wasn’t all right at all, and there was no way he could explain to her why this should be. She would have kissed him. He knew that. She would have placed her life directly into his hands. And it would have been a disaster.

  For all of her self-confidence, this was one area in which Sunathri most definitely did not know what she was doing.

  Or did she?

  Had he noticed a sense of expectation in her expression?

  He moved away. They sat, staring at each other.

  “What do we want to do about him?” Darien said, oblivious to the exchange. He pointed at the Lectodinian who lay tied up on the ground.

  Suni broke her gaze.

  Garrick glanced at Darien, then back at Suni. “You said you were looking for us?” he said.

  “No, I said I was looking for you.” She gave Darien a quick glance. “No offense. I admit I don’t even know your name.”

  “I’m Darien,” he said, proffering a hand.

  She took it.

  “Darien. Right. Darien. Good to meet you, Darien,” she said as if trying to memorize the name.

  “Why were you looking for me, then?” Garrick asked.

  “Don’t be dense.”

  Garrick raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

  “I want you to join my order,” Suni said.

  “Ah,” Garrick replied. “So you’re the one causing all this trouble?”

  “The orders are causing the trouble,” Suni said. “The Freeborn just want to exist. But, admittedly, the orders don’t want anyone cutting in on their business, and it scares them when we give magic to the common lot better than they can.”

  The Lectodinian gave a contemptuous sound that was half laugh, and half grunt.

  Suni took two quick steps, and kicked the Lectodinian high up on the thigh.

  The mage groaned.

  “Stop it,” Darien yelled. “We don’t mistreat prisoners.”

  Suni backed off.

  “Sorry,” she said with no real signs of remorse. “The bastard deserved it. My horse broke its legs because of him.”

  “I said,” Darien replied more firmly, “we don’t mistreat prisoners.”

  “Too bad the orders don’t see it that way.” She turned back to Garrick. “So, are you in?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I had heard rumor of your order while I was in Caledena.”

  “It’s no rumor, Garrick. We’re the real thing.”

  He waited.

  “The orders have always kept independent wizards at bay, right? They hunt us when we get too powerful or too rich—just like they’re doing now—they probably consider it culling the herd. It’s never been right, but until now no one has much cared about a dead wizard here and there.”

  She gave Garrick a crooked smile that took his breath away.

  “But we’re changing things—economics, agriculture, entertainment—everything. We’re helping the people of Adruin, and the orders are so afraid we can win the hearts of the people that they’ve actually banded together to stop us. They know if they don’t do it now, we’ll be too powerful to stop later.”

  Elman didn’t say anything this time.

  “You think you can challenge the orders?” Darien asked.

  “If I get a group that’s large enough and talented enough.” She leveled a crystalline gaze at Garrick.

  He suddenly felt angry.

  She was recruiting. That's all this was.

  They had been so close earlier, so intimate. He was attracted to her. How could he not be? And she had been ready to kiss him.

  But the truth was clear now.

  Sunathri was just like everyone else with power—a person of position who wanted to use him for her own purpose.

  He backed away.

  “I’ll be back,” he said. “I want to be alone for a moment.” Then he stepped into the darkness of the night.

  It was perhaps a half-hour later when Garrick returned to camp,

  Darien stood sentry over the Lectodinian, and Suni, healed but worn, was sleeping in her bedroll. He smirked at Garrick’s return, but said nothing.

  Garrick thought he might be too anxious to sleep, but he was tired, drained, and uncomfortable. Having healed twice tonight, his reservoir of life force seemed wooden and lifeless.

  He sat back against the hard rock and closed his eyes.

  Chapter 13

  Black dragons swooped in, carrying horses with broken legs. He poured himself into the horses one by one, but still the dragons came.

  A mage with a triangular scar on his hand stood to Garrick’s left, and another who smelled of blood stood to his right. They judged his performance with each horse—hands raised for well done, lowered for disaster. Both mages’ hands were now down, and yet still the dragons carried a river of freshly wounded animals to him.

  “Make it stop,” he pleaded.

  But a dragon placed another horse before him. The animal screamed in pain and lay on its side. Its eyes were black pools of panic. All four legs were broken.

  He healed it, but several more dragons wheeled about in the pink sky above.

  The Lectodinian mage laughed as he lowered his hand farther.

  “Faster,” he said. “You’ll never catch up at this rate.”

  Garrick was empty now. The undeniable essence of hunger crushed him. It was a burning blackness inside the pit of his stomach. He had to feed.

  Another dragon landed—this one carrying a unicorn, bright and pure with
a coat gleaming of opalescent glory. Its horn was a swirl of blue and silver. Its eyes were filled with intelligence.

  Life force within the animal called to him.

  No, he thought. Please, no.

  Garrick’s fingertips grazed its mane, and the unicorn screamed in agony.

  He tried to pull away, but his hand wouldn’t let go.

  He inhaled the animal in great gulps. It filled him, its magic rushing through his body.

  Then the unicorn was a withered husk on the ground, its mottled fur covered with maggots, its horn charred and broken.

  Bile rose in Garrick’s throat.

  The judges’ arms rose, and smiles appeared on their thin lips.

  Above him, a hundred dragons circled, carrying horses that dripped with fresh blood.

  Garrick woke in a cold sweat.

  Suni slept on her bedroll. Darien lay slumped over the ring of stones, clearly in a sorcery-laden daze. Empty coils of rope lay where the Lectodinian had been, the knots still tied.

  The mage was gone.

  Chapter 14

  “This is very good work, Elman. Thank you for your research. We shall speak again soon.”

  “You are most welcome, Lord Superior. I look forward to it.”

  Zutrian Esta shut down the communication spell, and gave a frustrated sigh.

  He gazed around his laboratory.

  He had just finished grounding a mixture of cobalt and eagle feathers that he had planned to boil into a solution of pure spring water. Then he would have added the marrow of the underplane demon that sat in the flask nearby and that smelled so strongly of tar.

  The components were ruined now. Elman’s call had broken his experimentation. At least this time, however, the news had been worth the loss.

  Zutrian gathered the braziers he needed.

  After months of negotiations and planning, he could now do this magic in his sleep, though the lack of sophistication of the Koradictines’ casting still annoyed him. He found Ettril Dor-Entfar’s magic to be undisciplined and wasteful, no different from any other Koradictine, really. They had no foresight, these mages. Their castings lacked elegance, and they used the magestuff of Talin as if it would last forever.