“May I ask your intentions?” Xan boomed when Marsh finally fell to silence.
“To bring you to justice.”
Xan grinned. What amazing posturing in the face of overwhelming force! He could almost respect the man’s guts. “And how, exactly, do you plan on accomplishing that task?”
“Archers!” Marsh shouted.
Five hundred men scurried to the front of the formation and readied their weapons, their movements well-coordinated. Almost like a dance. Pretty impressive. If they spent as much time in target practice as they did learning to maneuver, they were probably deadly … to someone who wasn’t a wizard.
“Hold up a second,” Xan said. “I’m out of range of your bows. I’ll come closer.” He drifted to a few dozen yards above the front lines. “There.”
“Launch!” Marsh yelled.
The general acted with such stern seriousness that it appeared he actually thought tiny wood sticks tipped with metal had a chance of damaging a kineticist who was prepared for them. He was a mighty fine actor indeed.
Or an idiot.
From the ridge high above, Marco shouted, but Xan was too busy to see what was the matter. He needed all his concentration to defend himself from the swarm of oncoming missiles.
Hmm. Normally, he’d have made the arrows rain down on the enemy, but if insulting Poole had been a disastrous start to negotiations, killing a bunch of the queen’s elite troops would be even worse. Instead, he deflected the missiles, parting them to either side of him to clatter harmlessly against the rocks well away from Marco’s position atop the ridge.
With the first wave a complete failure, Xan expected Marsh to call a halt to it. He wasn’t accomplishing anything other than wasting arrows.
Nope. They launched again.
And again. Flight after flight.
None got anywhere near their target.
After a more than a dozen volleys, Xan said, “This is past the point of becoming boring. Stop at once, or I’ll retaliate.”
Another flight.
If that was the way Marsh wanted it, fine. Xan would punch them in the nose. Hurt them but not injure them.
Hmmm. A breeze blew dust from the mountains. Perfect.
Xan increased the mass of the particles blowing around the army. Nearly weightless specks transformed into the equivalent of walnut-sized hail stones. The dust pounded the soldiers.
Some fell. A lot groaned. Most took cover.
“That was a warning, General Marsh, and the least of what I can do.”
“Launch!” Marsh yelled.
The man was a stubborn as he was stupid.
Wait. What if the general wasn’t an idiot? The archers could be a distraction.
Marsh could have placed a dozen mages on the other side of the mountain. While Xan was distracted, they could be moving into position to attack.
Without taking his eyes off the army, Xan scanned the rocks for life, but besides his own mages, there was no one.
The general really was that stupid.
Huh? Just the five mages? No one else?
Where was Marco?
67.
Xan spun.
His heart pounded. Surely, there was an innocent explanation for not sensing Marco’s life. There had to be.
He rose to the top of the ridge. Nothing near the rocks. No arrows. No sign of any disturbance.
No sign of Marco, either.
A game trail led from the ridge down to the right. A small path, not even a pace wide. Xan had paid it scant notice when he’d scouted the area.
His eyes followed the line the trail made.
Something lay there halfway up the slope. A form. A body. Marco’s body. Riddled with arrows.
No! It couldn’t be.
Marco had been ordered to stay put. Why had he snuck down the path? To get a better look? What was so important—
Xan’s breath caught.
Oh no! What if Marco had seen the archers launching and panicked? Ran forward to help somehow. Sprinting blindly, trying to do something, anything.
He’d not understood that Xan was in no danger. That he was simply taunting the enemy.
Marco had run right into the storm of arrows deflected into him.
Xan’s eyes watered. Deflected by him.
His fault. Because of his arrogance.
He scanned to determine what he already knew, that there was nothing of the boy left inside his body.
Marco was gone. Dead.
Through the kinetic magic, Xan sensed another flight of arrows. He stopped and reversed their course, letting them rain upon the army.
Part of him balked at that action. That was not the way to start an alliance, killing all the queen’s soldiers. But most of him just didn’t care.
Marco’s death wasn’t his fault alone.
Xan spun back around to face the army. “Every arrow fired will find its way into the head of one of your men, General Marsh, and if you think fancy helmets and armor or anything else will save them, you’re mistaken.”
“Launch!” the general yelled.
Nearly two hundred arrows flew. Nearly two hundred arrows turned in midflight, reversed course, and accelerated instantly. Each found the head of a soldier, mostly the archers. Some knights. Some pikemen.
None found Marsh. Xan had other plans for him.
“Care to try that again?” Xan said.
Incredibly, Marsh opened his mouth to yell again, but Xan stole all energy from the resulting sound waves, muting the man.
He should have done that a long time ago.
Xan glanced back at Marco’s lifeless form. He wanted to punish. To kill.
He brought his arms up before him, ready to clap twice, eager to see the lightning dance across the field.
But something stayed his hands.
Tasia.
What would she think if he destroyed an entire army? War was war, but that wouldn’t be a battle. Nor a lawful execution.
Pure vengeance.
His arms fell to his sides.
He should do something for Marco. Fly to him and … do something. Anything. Cover the body? What did one do in such situations?
Xan let out a scream of rage and loss, amplifying it to the limits of his ability. Almost as one, the hands of every man shot up to protect themselves from the cacophony. Too late. Blood trickled out of ears all over the field.
Good. He’d hurt them. Such a small wound, though.
Marco’s bloody corpse filled his vision.
Burn. Crush. Strike.
Kill them all.
No! Tasia. He couldn’t. But he also couldn’t just let the army stand there.
He clapped a single time and amplified the sound. Constance and Olga began work immediately. On the right and left flanks, men fell unconscious.
Asleep.
Unharmed.
He clenched his hands. His fists trembled. Two claps were all it would take to bring lightning. Not a person standing before him would escape.
Burn. Crush. Strike.
No! He wouldn’t. Couldn’t.
Instead, he joined his death mages incapacitating the soldiers until only a small group around the general remained standing.
Five claps, each sending thunderous echoes bouncing off the rocks.
Xan hovered above the coterie, collapsing officers and aides. When only the general was left, Xan landed a few yards away.
Marsh drew his sword and charged.
Xan smiled as he added weight to the blade. The general dropped it, nearly crushing his foot. He stumbled to a halt, staring at the weapon like it had been possessed.
“What part of ‘wizard’ don’t you understand, you imbecile?” Xan shoved him down with a kinetic burst.
Marsh got to his feet and looked to charge again.
He needed to be punished. Severely.
Xan wished he could do it with his own two hands or, failing that, directly with his magic. Too bad only life energy worked on a living target because making
the general fall unconscious just wasn’t what Xan had in mind.
Oh well.
Xan broke a rock loose from the cliff and propelled it at Marsh. It hit midstep, shearing off his right leg just below the knee.
The impact happened so fast Marsh didn’t notice until he tried to take his next step. He swung the missing limb forward and collapsed as there was nothing to hold his weight. For an instant, a puzzled expression painted his face.
Then, he screamed, looking at Xan in horror.
“Don’t worry. You won’t have to live as a cripple.” He met the general’s eyes. “Because you won’t be living much longer.”
Marsh groaned. “If you think I’ll beg, you’re mistaken. I’ll not give you the satisfaction.”
“I couldn’t care less one way or the other.”
“What are you waiting for, then? End this.”
Xan glanced around. Nearly twenty-five hundred men lay on the grassy plain. Most just slept. Only a couple hundred were already dead.
“I have to figure out how many.”
Marsh looked confused. “How many what?”
“How many of your men equal the value of Marco.” Xan’s voice choked on the name. “Yours will not be the only execution today, but it will be the last.” He sighed. “The problem is that I wouldn’t trade every single one of your men for him.”
“You’d kill them while they lay helpless? You’re that much of a monster?”
Xan let out a long breath. “No. As much as I want to, they just followed where you led. I won’t make them pay for your mistakes. Your officers, though …”
“You … you can’t.”
Nobles lives weren’t risked even during pitched battles. Sure, the odd one might fall, but no one targeted them. And upon capture, they were ransomed back to their families.
“Yeah, I know. Barbaric, right?” Xan said. “That nobles should have to pay for their poor choices instead of just the lower classes suffering. Unheard of.”
Marsh didn’t respond. Maybe he was finally showing a lick of sense.
“Point out your three most senior officers,” Xan said.
The general remained motionless.
“Sure you want to play that game?” Xan said.
Still no movement.
Xan flew a head-sized boulder from the ridge. It arced perfectly, striking Marsh’s right leg just below the kneecap, severing it completely as well.
Marsh screamed again.
“Not only can I do this all day,” Xan said, “but I can keep healing you so you don’t die no matter how much pain I inflict.”
The general hung his head and quietly sobbed. Once he’d regained his composure, he sat up and gestured toward three of the knights.
Whether he lied or not, Xan didn’t really care. He poured life magic into them until the three woke.
“General Marsh,” Xan said, “do I have your surrender?”
Marsh hesitated.
“And just so we’re clear, your refusal means the destruction of Escon and the death of every one of your men.”
The general buried his face in the grass. “I surrender.”
“Good.” Xan kinetically pulled three ropes from saddlebags on collapsed horses and propelled them to the three officers. “Fashion these into nooses.”
Fully expecting their deaths, they didn’t so much as utter a word as they followed his instructions, and once finished, he had one of them put a noose around Marsh’s neck. The other two were ordered to place the ropes around their own.
“General Marsh and subordinates, I sentence you to death for the crime of murdering Marco Stout.” Xan magically yanked all three ropes at once, hard.
As one, three necks snapped.
He turned to the remaining officer. “Report what happened to your queen. Tell her she can work with me or she can make me an enemy. If the former, I expect to be treated as a full equal in all dealings. If the latter … well, let’s just say she better evacuate Escon.”
68.
Carrying the transport, Xan flew toward the southeast.
Toward Eye Lake. An hour away.
He slowed. Two hours away. Still too short a time.
Maybe he could set the transport somewhere. The five mages could make their own way back. They could carry … the body.
Xan glanced at the tiny wrapped form. His vision blurred.
Yes. He’d set them down and go … somewhere else. Anywhere else.
He lowered himself and the transport toward the ground.
If he went back to Eye Lake, he’d have to tell everyone what happened. He’d have to explain to Robyn that he’d been arrogant and thoughtless. To Gregg that he’d not thought through the tactics of the situation. To everyone that he’d failed to gain an ally. In fact, he’d probably gained them an enemy.
But that wasn’t what Xan really dreaded. Those things he could face. There was only one thing he couldn’t.
Tears streamed from his eyes. He couldn’t imagine explaining to Hosea and Ada that their son was dead. Knocking on their door. Having them ask where Marco was.
He could not do it. Would not do it.
Better to disappear. Find a remote village somewhere to live out the rest of his days.
He landed. Constance looked at him, her face solemn. Full of … anger.
Xan opened his mouth to give the order, but no words came. Someone had to tell Hosea and Ada the news.
Maybe a messenger. Or a note. No, not a note, a letter.
I regret to inform you that …
That was how monarchs and generals informed family members that loved ones had been killed, right? Xan couldn’t imagine Queen Anna or King Barius or King Wybrande delivering the news personally.
It simply was not done that way.
The mages stared at Xan, their faces full of accusation. He turned from them.
Hosea had been like a father to him. And Ava …
Xan had to tell them himself. They deserved to hear it from him.
He choked back a sob.
They hadn’t wanted Marco to go, but Xan had promised to keep him safe. Their oldest son dead.
If the death had been an accident—unavoidable, no one’s fault—delivering the news would have been bad enough. How many times worse was it that he was one hundred percent to blame? For letting Marco go. For not placing Marco in a safer location. For not making sure that Marco would stay put even if he had to tie the boy. For behaving like an arrogant fool in the face of danger.
Worst, Xan delivered the killing blow himself, deflecting the arrows without a single thought about where they’d land. If he’d just taken an instant to make sure the trail was clear …
No one to fault but himself.
Who did he think he was to run a realm? People’s lives depended on him? Really? A random villager off the street could make decisions superior to his. Eye Lake would be better off without him. Robyn could lead.
He’d drop off the transport in Eye Lake and break the news to Hosea and Ada. They’d be stunned, any parent would be. Before the full enormity of what happened hit them, Xan would leave. Fly off and never be heard from again.
He’d betrayed them in the worst possible way.
And what he’d done to the army!
His people had counted on him to form an alliance, and he’d let them all down. The lives of every person in Eye Lake were in jeopardy because of him.
Because of his pride.
He’d wanted to show the queen’s men how strong he was. Instead, he’d shown himself to be an idiot who got his most loyal follower killed.
A leader wasn’t just someone who was powerful. A leader was someone who took care of those who depended upon him. A leader was someone who accepted responsibility.
And like it or not, he was still responsible for a city and nearly a thousand people. If he left, mages would be pulled to Escon and Asherton. Without death mages to grow crops throughout the winter, the people would starve. As bad off as things were with him, they’d
be even worse without him holding everyone together.
No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t just leave.
Xan shut his eyes. Returning to Eye Lake was a fate worse than any he could imagine, and still, it wasn’t half the punishment he deserved. He steadied himself with a long breath, opened his eyes, and launched himself and the transport skyward.
The next hour of flight was the most miserable of Xan’s life. Each mile covered brought new dread. His hands trembled at the thought of what lay before him.
But he did not slow until landing in the bailey. He issued orders for the body to be prepared for burial and launched himself again. His second landing was in the yard in front of Hosea’s house.
Pots and pans clanged. Almost dinner time. Ramon and Dea played. Laughed. Probably couldn’t wait for Marco to get back.
But he’d never return.
Xan raised his fist to knock. As soon as he did, he would change their lives forever. Because he’d screwed up.
He waited for a while, standing still while the family ate. A half hour passed. An hour.
Hosea and Ada put the little ones to bed as they waited for Marco to return. Probably getting worried with the sun having set.
Xan could put it off no longer. He knocked.
Hosea opened the door. “My lord Gryphon.” He looked past Xan. “Where’s Marco?” He refocused his eyes on Xan’s face. On his expression.
Ada appeared behind him. “Marco’s back?”
“What’s happened?” Hosea said. “Where is he?”
“He … he …” Xan couldn’t say it. No power he possessed could force the words from his mouth.
Tears streaked down Hosea’s cheeks.
“What?” Ada said. “I don’t understand.”
Hosea drew her into a tight embrace. “Marco … Marco’s dead.”
“No. That can’t be right. He was fine just this morning.” She pushed herself away and turned to Xan. “Hosea’s wrong, isn’t he, my lord?”
Xan could only shake his head.
“He’s gone? He’s really gone?”
“I’m … sorry.” Such an inadequate word, but one that could even begin to make up for what Xan had done didn’t exist. “I’m so, so sorry.”
Gryphon (Rise of the Mages Book 2) Page 38