Gryphon (Rise of the Mages Book 2)

by Brian W. Foster

  These men were going to murder innocent civilians in cold blood. Under orders. Which meant Truna’s soldiers hadn’t just went rogue, privateering for survival. Instead, they conducted an organized campaign, guerilla warfare to keep Duke Asher off balance and to consume resources. The only reason they would do that was if Dastanar planned another attack, and unless Xan missed his guess, it wouldn’t be long coming.

  Hosea looked to Xan. There was no way for them to escape. No way to outrun the soldiers, and a bunch of farmers with their wives and kids certainly couldn’t overpower battle-hardened soldiers.

  Xan shrugged. What could he say? There was only one way out of the situation, but it meant him lighting that flare he’d so desperately avoided. Coming out of hiding. Taking on all comers.

  Worse, it meant bearing the looks of fear and scorn from the people he’d come to like and respect. Hosea would never look at him the same way again. Or Marco.

  Xan wished he had a choice. He never had a choice. “Lieutenant, you don’t want me to do this. Really. Please don’t make me do this.”

  “Son, you can do your worst, but it will only make things go badly for your friends. There are worse things than a quick death. Many worse things.”

  “I cannot adequately express to you how much I hate it when anyone calls me son.” Xan stepped forward, fixed a firm look on his face, and met the lieutenant’s eyes. “It’s belittling, and it insults my dearly departed father.”

  “Son—”

  “You have two choices,” Xan said. “Let us pass unmolested or die.”

  The lieutenant looked him up and down before smiling. A few of the soldiers actually laughed.

  Besides the visible platoon of soldiers, Xan’s magic revealed more than a dozen hidden behind a ridge overlooking the trail. Archers.

  “You got moxie, kid. I like that, and I wish I could let you go. I really do.” The lieutenant shrugged. “Orders.”

  “Is that your final answer?” Xan said.

  “I’m afraid it is,” the lieutenant said.

  Xan drew power from the magic source and unleashed three separate flows. The lieutenant’s uniform erupted in flame, along with the clothes of the seven men nearest him. A kinetic surge pushed a half-dozen men flanking him off the edge of the path, plunging them to their deaths. The rest who were visible collapsed, crushed as the weight of their clothes increased to tons.

  The archers loosed. Xan stopped the arrows and forced them to reverse course, hitting most of them with their own missiles. Those not mortally wounded burst into flame.

  Less than a minute—just a few seconds really—was all he needed to kill thirty-five soldiers.

  More killing. No matter what happened, it all came down to more killing. Why couldn’t he just save people?

  But those men had deserved it. Better them than Hosea and his family. Frae. All the others. The soldiers had made the choice and left Xan with none, and for that poor decision, they’d paid the ultimate price.

  Would that he hadn’t killed them all, though. He could have interrogated them, hopefully found out more about Dastanar. Information about Duke Asher’s plans. Anything.

  Worse though, having no enemies remaining meant he had to deal with his friends.

  24.

  Xan turned and wilted under the group’s stares.

  Disdain. Fear. Mostly abject horror, though. Several, including Hosea, made the sign of the Holy One.

  While swords and arrows no longer fazed him, he hated receiving those looks from people he respected. Cared about.

  Ada. Marco. Even Frae.

  Not that Xan could blame them. He’d just killed nearly three dozen people. Displayed no mercy. Given no quarter.

  All he wanted was to run away.

  His enemies surely knew where he was, though, and if they launched an immediate attack, they might punish the group if they didn’t find him. So he had to stay until he was sure no mages were headed his way.

  He sensed flows, as normal, in the direction of Asherton and a new one, long and sustained, to the west of the city. That worried him, but over the course of nearly an hour, the usage didn’t change location.

  Good. That was good. He’d wait until the morning. If he still hadn’t detected any kineticists moving toward him, he’d see the group off. They’d no longer have his protection but neither would they be in danger from his enemies.

  And they’d have supplies. Food. Horses. Which they should be gathering. But they still just gaped at him, unmoving.

  “Search the bodies,” he said. “Whatever weapons, gold, and food you find is yours. Their camp is on the other side of that rise.”

  With Hosea’s family and the rest provided for, Xan could move on with a clear conscience. His best bet was to head northeast to Kaicia, where no one had ever heard of him.

  Alone. Again.

  Xan climbed to a ridge about a hundred feet above the group and sat facing the valley below. Crunching rocks alerted him to someone climbing up behind him. He scanned with his life sense. Four someones—a child, two men, and a woman.

  “Basil?”

  Marco’s voice.

  “Go away,” Xan said.

  “Lad, what … I mean …”

  Hosea.

  Unless Xan missed his guess, the other man was Buck. He didn’t know about the woman, though. Ada?

  “You have provisions, now,” Xan said. “Enough to make it to Asherton and get you set up besides.”

  “Basil, please?” the woman said.

  Ahh, Frae, not Ada. That made sense.

  “I saved your lives,” Xan said. “I owe you nothing more.”

  Least of all an explanation, which was what they wanted.

  “By the Holy One, man!” Buck yelled. “What you did back there …”

  Xan grimaced. “I’m leaving in the morning. You don’t have to worry about it. About me.”

  “No!” Marco yelled. “I don’t want you to go!”

  “You don’t even know my real name. It’s Xan, not Basil.”

  “I don’t care what your name is!”

  “Believe me, Marco, everybody we’re traveling with will want me to go.”

  “Why?”

  Xan stood and turned to find tears streaking down Marco’s face. “You saw what I did to those soldiers. How easy it was for me to kill them.”

  “You wouldn’t kill us,” Marco said.

  “I’d do anything to protect you, but none of those good people will want me to stick around now that they know what I can do.”

  “I want you to stay.” Marco glanced at his dad. “Pa wants you to stay.”

  Hosea grimaced. “Son, I reckon he’s got to do what he thinks best.” He met Xan’s eyes. “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know. Run. Hide. Same as always.”

  “No!” Marco yelled. “Please don’t!”

  Xan walked to the boy and knelt beside him. “Even if all of you wanted me to stay, I can’t. It’s not safe. The nobles want me dead. Duke Asher. The queen. King Barius. Since I’ve used my magic, they’ll know where I am. If they catch up … I don’t want you hurt because of my battles.”

  “Those men below would have killed us, wouldn’t they?” Marco said.

  Xan nodded.

  Marco grinned as if he’d won their verbal jousting match. “And I reckon they had nothing to do with you.”

  “Marco …”

  “I reckon we’re safer if’n you’re with us, then.” Marco turned to his father. “Tell him!”

  “You know what the good tender back home says, son. Magic is evil.”

  Xan narrowed his eyes and fixed Hosea with a glare. “No.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me,” Xan said. “If you want to be afraid of me, that’s your right, but don’t go spouting blasted nonsense as an excuse.”

  “I reckon I don’t—”

  “Call me evil if you want. I’ve probably done enough I’m not proud of to warrant the charge, but the best, most
devout, kindest person I know is a mage. I will not have you disparaging her.”

  “But the tender …”

  “Lies don’t become true just because they’re repeated by a tender,” Xan said.

  “He’s a good man!” Hosea said.

  “I’m sure he is, and I’m equally sure he believes every word he told you.” Xan took a few deep breaths to get his emotions under control. “Less than two generations ago, mages worked with, and for, the people. Tenders had churches in Eye Lake, the home of the wizards. What changed since then?”

  “I don’t rightly know.”

  “The nobles got scared of how much power magic users wielded. That’s what changed!” Xan clenched his fists. “They turned everyone against us using lies and propaganda!”

  “I want to believe you, lad, but it’s your word versus the tender’s.”

  “Hosea, you are one of the most level-headed men I’ve ever met. What does your judgment tell you?” Xan said. “Aside from killing those soldiers, have I done anything to make you believe I’m evil?”

  “I reckon you haven’t.” Hosea was clearly conflicted.

  “You know what?” Xan said. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. I’ll be out of your hair in the morning.”

  Marco was about to object, but Hosea’s hand on his shoulder restrained him. Someone spoke, but the words were so quiet that Xan could make out neither what was said or who said it.

  “What was that?” Buck said.

  “I said that I don’t think he’s evil, Pa.”

  Well, Xan had the support of Frae and Marco. Not everyone hated him, at least. He’d always have that.

  “I reckon I don’t either,” Buck said.

  Buck was about the lowest on the list of people Xan would have expected to take an enlightened position on magic users, but it didn’t matter. He had to leave for everyone’s sake.

  Hosea exhaled slowly. “Lad, what you talked about before, about someone who could change things but didn’t … How much … power … do you have?”

  “More than any person alive,” Xan said. “I’m not just a mage, but a wizard.”

  “Like the Eagle!” Marco said.

  Xan couldn’t help but crack the briefest of grins at the enthusiasm. He explained about being able to use all ten types of magic at once.

  “Those men you … took care of,” Hosea said, “how many more could you have handled?”

  “If I could blight them, as many as I could see at once. Otherwise …” Xan shrugged. “More than a thousand, certainly.”

  Hosea let out a low whistle. “Maybe Marco’s right. Maybe we would be safer with you.”

  “No,” Xan said. “Too many people know about me now. All it would take was a single tongue wagging at the wrong time to give us away. It’s best if I go off on my own and hide in another group.”

  “What if you didn’t hide?” Hosea said.

  “What are you saying?”

  It was Hosea’s turn to shrug. “What do you think I’m saying?”

  Turning the question back on Xan was what Master Rae would have done.

  “It sounds like you’re saying I should fight for what I think is right,” Xan said. “To actually do something about the bad things happening to good people like you.”

  He couldn’t help but imagine that Master Rae would have advised the same.

  “How would you do that?” Hosea said.

  “Well,” Xan said, “I have to assume Duke Asher is recruiting mages, and the queen, if she isn’t already, will be doing so soon. And I believe Dastanar has a formidable number trained. To stand against that, I’ll need my own force.”

  “So how do we find them?” Buck said.

  “I can’t do this.” Xan ran his hand through his hair. “Don’t you see where this leads? Wars! Destruction!”

  Hosea met his eyes, concerned but resolute. “I reckon there’s always been such.”

  “I’m supposed to, what, gather an army of mages? You really want me to do that?”

  Marco nodded. And Buck. Frae smiled at him.

  Hosea frowned. “I reckon an evil man would want to help himself. Every word out of your mouth is about helping others.”

  None of their actions made sense. Slit his throat as he slept? Completely logical. Following him as he took on the most powerful people in the three kingdoms, though? Crazy. They were all crazy.

  Hosea cleared his throat. “I’ve decided. Me and mine will follow where you lead.”

  Buck pledged the same.

  “I’m no leader,” Xan said. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

  “We each do what the Holy One wills us to, lad,” Hosea said. “I reckon He’s decided that you’re to lead.”

  Then the Holy One was blasted insane as well, but Xan couldn’t say that to Hosea.

  “If we’re going to do this—and I’m not saying we are—anyone who wants to leave must be allowed to,” Xan said. “We’ll give them what money and provisions we can spare.”

  “I reckon that’s fair,” Hosea said. “I’ll tell them.”

  The others climbed back down from the ridge, leaving Xan to his thoughts. For better or for worse, he was in charge, responsible for all who chose to stay with him.

  If only he had any idea what to do.

  25.

  Xan took a deep breath.

  He had to figure out what to do. There were almost two dozen people in the group, and he would have to protect them. And shelter them. And feed them.

  His shoulders hunched under the weight of the tremendous responsibility.

  The soldiers he’d killed hopefully had enough provisions to last a long time, but winter fast approached. Xan needed a permanent food supply, which meant settling somewhere to plant. It also meant growing crops through the cold months, entailing a lot of magic use.

  Detectable magic use.

  There’d be no hiding, meaning acquiring mages quickly was essential. He’d need … twenty? Was that enough to ward off an attack?

  Maybe against the queen or Asher, but Barius? Probably not.

  But even that number seemed impossible. Since only one person out of two hundred could become a mage, he’d have to test four thousand people. Assuming he checked a hundred a day and adding in traveling between villages, that was two months of full-time recruiting.

  If mages were his only concern, sure, why not? But he had so many other problems, like acquiring the goods his refugees would need. Clothes. Farming implements. Construction materials for houses. All of which cost gold, which he didn’t have.

  His heart pounded.

  Accomplishing everything required to keep the group safe and fed and sheltered was not feasible.

  But what was his option? To leave the group behind? Trust their safety to blind chance and Asher’s goodness and competence?

  Xan’s chest tightened. People were depending on him. He had to come up with a solution.

  Think.

  When a problem seemed too big, Master Rae had taught him to break it down into manageable chunks. His first priority was a base of operations, somewhere defensible and preferably uninhabited but with plenty of land for crops, trees for building supplies and hunting opportunities, and a large supply of water.

  Sure. No problem. Those kinds of places simply abounded.

  Oh wait, they didn’t. If a location that perfect existed, plenty of people would already be living there.

  Except … There was one place. A perfect spot, really, and one that rightfully belonged to him. Kind of. Though he didn’t think any of the three rulers would see it that way.

  The first wizards and mages had artificially created a lake and mountains and built a university for magic users. They’d called it Eye Lake, and by treaties that remained in force, no kingdom could claim it.

  Xan had read that, after the nobles’ side won, they tore down every building, leaving no two bricks stacked atop one another. Other than having to rebuild it, though, the site offered plenty of advantages. Mountains surroun
ded it with only three defensible passes providing access and talk about the perfect location, bordering both Bermau and Kaicia.

  The only downside was that it lay only a few score miles from Dastanar, meaning they wouldn’t have too much warning when Barius’ attack came. A huge negative, to be sure.

  No other location made sense, though, so Xan mentally committed to it.

  With that problem solved, some of the weight lifted off Xan. Maybe things weren’t as impossible as they seemed. A memory from his journey to Asherton after rescuing Ashley popped into his head, giving him an idea where he might find gold.

  Perfect! Maybe he could figure solutions to all his problems.

  “No! I will not calm down!” someone below yelled.

  The conversation went quiet, and Xan magically enhanced the sound.

  “If’n you want a response, you will,” Hosea said.

  “How do I know this … this … Xan person won’t just kill me and my family when we try to leave?”

  Arturo Cardena’s voice.

  The group had swelled as they approached Calkirk, adding a dozen families, including the Cardenas. Since, they’d dropped back down to only five.

  “I reckon because I vowed he won’t,” Hosea said.

  “But how do you know?” Arturo yelled.

  Xan launched upward, arcing toward the group. At the same time, he amplified his voice. “Because if I wanted to kill you, I’d do it right now. You’re still alive, so …”

  He reached the apex of his flight and fell, jerking himself to slow his momentum.

  Arturo’s eyes went wide with fright.

  “Go!” Xan boomed.

  Arturo stood frozen, as did his daughter. His wife grabbed both of them and tugged.

  “Now!”

  The wife dragged Arturo and her daughter downhill for a few steps until they broke from their stupor. The family sprinted away, not even taking their own meager supplies.

  After a few more jerks, Xan touched down in front of Hosea. “Have someone catch up with them and give them food, coin, and a horse.” He turned to the four remaining families. “Anyone else want to leave?”

  Of the nearly twenty people remaining, none so much as moved a muscle. Terrified.