Gryphon (Rise of the Mages Book 2)

by Brian W. Foster

  * * *

  Brant cleared his throat.

  Nearly a hundred men and women stood at attention before him. Gold accents shone on their white uniforms, and blue trim mimicked Duke Asher’s livery. Shoulder emblems marked their magic type.

  They were perfect. Ready to fight for their liege lord. Ready to fight for Brant.

  Ready to die.

  “I’ve been ordered back to Asherton.” Brant frowned. Using “I” instead of “we” was a lie.

  He swallowed. As an officer, the hardest call in such a case was how honest and open to be with one’s soldiers. If you told them they were facing certain death, they might mutiny—though he felt most would follow him—but they deserved to know. On the other hand, did knowing make things better or worse? Had he the choice, would he rather believe he had a chance?

  Telling them seemed wrong, but not telling them seemed worse. He had no idea what to do.

  “What’s the plan?” Lucan said.

  “Pretty much, there isn’t one,” Brant said. “If you follow me, you will die.”

  He didn’t want Lainey and Dylan or any of the others, even Lucan, to die because of him. Was he considering throwing his mages against a force that outnumbered them more than ten to one? They’d be overrun in an instant. If they took down a single enemy, it’d be a miracle.

  But he didn’t have another option. His orders were to bring them to Asherton. Anything else would be directly disobeying.

  He clenched and unclenched his hand around his sword’s hilt. Since he had a chance to obey or not, the fairest thing would be to give his troops the same shot.

  Brant pointed toward Eye Lake. “Xan is that way. He’d welcome you with open arms, glad for more mages, and he’s a good leader who will do what is best for you and for the kingdom. If any want to join him, I’ll not raise a hand to stop you.”

  No one spoke for a moment until Lucan stepped forward. “It’s been an honor serving with you. Much better than I expected. Best of luck to you.”

  Brant nodded. “Anyone else?”

  No one said a word, not even Dylan. Lainey took a step toward Lucan before grabbing Dylan’s hand and staying.

  As Brant was about to speak, though, Dylan raised his hand. “If I may … Lucan, can you please take Mari with you? See to her safety?”

  Lucan agreed.

  Brant felt like complete crap. What was the duke thinking? These mages were the most valuable resource in the three kingdoms, and he was throwing them away like rubbish?

  There was no blasted reason for it. But stupid orders were still orders.

  Brant couldn’t help but recall his conversation with Xan. How concerned he was for his people and their wellbeing. Maybe a true leader didn’t just follow orders blindly. Maybe putting the good of the whole—including his soldiers and his kingdom—first made a better officer than one who just did what he was told.

  Brant’s head hurt.

  Lucan moved to leave.

  A memory popped up—Tatiana. Was she still alive? Had she been tortured?

  Brant had put orders and what he’d wanted—Ivie—above doing the right, honorable thing. But it wasn’t exactly like leaving Ivie behind would have been good or honorable, either.

  So what was the least selfish thing? Following orders to go to his death? He didn’t know. Felt pretty selfless. But it felt pretty selfish to ask anyone else to follow him. But they wouldn’t go without him.

  His head throbbed.

  Lucan had made it halfway off the grounds.

  A thought struck Brant. With Tatiana and Ivie, there had been no good choice. No honorable choice. He’d done the best he could in a bad situation. Maybe the same thing was true with the upcoming battle. Neither fighting nor leaving was a good choice. It was up to him to do the best he could.

  “Wait!” Brant yelled.

  Lucan turned, his face resigned. “Have you changed your mind about me leaving?”

  “Kind of,” Brant said.

  Duke Asher was being as selfish as Brant. He couldn’t lead these mages to their deaths.

  “We’re going with you,” Brant said.

  97.

  Ashley followed the queen around like a puppy.

  Lost. Confused. Begging for scraps—or men and mages at any rate. Queen Anna mostly ignored her.

  The last time Ashley had seen her father, she’d blamed him for ruining her life. He’d recoiled from her, hurt beyond measure. Were those to be the last words they ever exchanged?

  By the Holy One, she despised how stubborn that man was. He’d caused her mother to die by insisting she not use her powers. Must he sacrifice his own life, too?

  Ashley would be an orphan. He had no right. No right at all.

  It wasn’t fair.

  If he did somehow survive, she would kill him herself. And Xan. It was all his fault, too. If he hadn’t run away, they would have developed a plan. At the very least, they could have somehow rescued her dad.

  And Tasia. That tramp! If not for her, Xan would have eaten out of Ashley’s hand. Done her bidding like a good little boy. Not run off scared back to his ridiculous town.

  All three deserved blame.

  “Please get in your carriage, child,” the queen said.

  Ashley schooled her face and moved to her carriage, near the last one in line. Way behind the queen’s.

  She climbed in and found Tasia sitting inside. “What are you doing here?”

  “The queen’s orders,” Tasia said.

  “Oh.” Ashley took her seat.

  They sat in silence for a while as Ashley stared out the window. Up and down the line, people boarded wagons and lashed down loads and mounted horses.

  “Normally,” Tasia said finally, “I let these things go, but this time you went too far. You’re my cousin, and I love you. But you owe me an apology.”

  “Me? Owe you? Because of you, my father is about to die. Because of you, the only person in the three kingdoms who could have saved him is fleeing. Because of you, my birthright is about to go up in flames. Explain, again, how I owe you anything.”

  “All that is my fault? Wow, someone needs to take a good, long look in a mirror, Ashley.”

  “That’s ‘Lady Ashley’ to a commoner like you. My first act as duchess of Vierna will be to revoke all privileges granted to you by my father. Count on it.”

  “Whatever you say, Ashley.

  “And no amount of begging will make me change my mind.”

  “Fine, Ashley.”

  They lapsed into another silence.

  “I am sorry about your father,” Tasia said. “He’s a good man. Always treated me with kindness and did his best for his people. He doesn’t deserve to die.”

  “Your sympathy won’t make me change my mind, either.”

  “I couldn’t care less about a title,” Tasia said. “I do care about you. No matter how despicable you act, you’re my cousin. And my friend.”

  The carriage lurched forward, beginning its inexorable journey to Escon. Ashley nearly fell from her seat.

  Yes. Get out of her seat. That was what she should do. Not just go to Escon like some meek peasant. There had to be a way to save her father, and she certainly wouldn’t find that way from inside a coach bound for the capital.

  “Ashley … Lady Ashley … talk to me. Please.”

  “I have nothing to say to you. Ever again. Shut your mouth.”

  Their carriage rolled down the trail, nearing a large ditch at the edge of the encampment. The queen’s carriage was far to the front around a bend. Almost out of sight behind them, the rear guard was still mustering. Full dark had not yet fallen, but deep shadows covered the ground.

  Maybe no one would notice if she were quick.

  The carriage moved closer. Almost in position.

  Ashley eased open the door.

  “What are you doing?” Tasia said

  Ashley grasped the edges of the door frame with both hands and braced her feet. The ditch approached.

&nb
sp; “No!” Tasia yelled. “Don’t!”

  Ashley hesitated. The ditch’s lip lay a good three feet away. If she landed in the open, she’d be visible to everyone. She’d have to jump clear of the road to have a chance of blending with the vegetation.

  Pulling with her arms while pushing with her legs, she launched herself from the carriage and landed on a steep incline. She tumbled head over feet down the embankment, landing in a heap at the bottom.

  A shape followed. Similar in size. Wearing a dress.

  Tasia.

  Ashley practically snarled, but she couldn’t risk being heard. There was no way the other coaches wouldn’t notice two ladies in bright dresses pulled mostly over their heads. She had to do something.

  Wait. Her magic. She could make herself look like someone else. Should be a simple matter to make her and Tasia blend into the trees and dirt.

  Worth a shot.

  Ashley called the magic, wishing for their clothes and faces to appear the same greens and browns as the surroundings.

  “Don’t you dare say one word,” she whispered. “I swear to you, if you make even the tiniest peep, I’ll cut your throat.”

  Tasia nodded.

  They crouched there for what seemed like hours, and by the time the rear guard fully passed, evening approached. To ensure they weren’t discovered, Ashley remained in place until only the light of the almost half moon covered the ground.

  “Get up,” she said.

  “May I speak, now?” Tasia said.

  “Fine.”

  Tasia met her eyes. “What in the name of the Holy One are you doing?”

  “Going to Asherton.”

  “Ashley! You can’t. You’ll be killed. Or worse.”

  “What would you have me do? Sit around waiting as my father dies? I have to go to him. Convince him to see reason.”

  Tasia sighed. “I’m going, too, then.”

  “No! I want nothing more to do with you.”

  “Really? Because having a death mage with you might come in handy. For example …” Tasia pointed to the west. “There are still a line of horses tied over there, and only the one guard. He’s already tired and bored. Drowsy. If I drained a little life from him, he’d probably fall right into a deep sleep.” She shrugged. “Oh well. Too bad you don’t want me to go with you.”

  Ashley huffed.

  Tasia began climbing up the east side of the ditch. “Maybe I can catch up to the queen.”

  “Fine,” Ashley said.

  “What do you mean by ‘fine?’ ”

  “You can come.”

  The little witch.

  98.

  Ashley shifted her poor, sore bottom as her horse bounded up an incline and cut between two trees.

  Tasia, of course, suffered not at all. Every time she got the slightest ache, she just poured a little life magic into herself, and—Poof!—it went away.

  And did she offer to extend that ability to her lady-benefactor?

  Ashley clenched her jaw. And that despite all the hints she’d dropped. Well, she for sure wouldn’t ask for healing.

  Blasted Tasia. So what if Dastanar’s mages could sense external magic use? That didn’t mitigate her inconsiderate rudeness.

  “Faster!” Ashley whispered loudly.

  With dawn barely past, thundering cracks of lightning and the thudding crashes of falling stones signaled the start of the attack at Asherton’s north gate, and she tried not to think about the destruction befalling her home. At least no one was getting hurt … yet. According to Tasia’s life sense, not even a token force had been left to defend the almost deserted city.

  Once King Barius’ army reached the castle, though, there’d be plenty of people getting hurt. Her father’s men. Uncle Benj.

  Her father.

  Ashley had hoped to make it into the city well before Dastanar’s army arrived, but Tasia had delayed them. Every time she sensed riders, she’d insisted they take to the woods to avoid “enemy patrols,” so instead of being safe in the castle, Ashley still hadn’t even made it inside the town gates. Her only chance at reaching her daddy was to swing around to the south gate and stay ahead of the marauding invaders.

  A half hour later, she was close, about to break the cover of the forest.

  “Wait!” Tasia reined her horse to a stop.

  “What now?”

  “There are eleven people guarding the gate,” Tasia said.

  “So? They could be Father’s men.”

  “Two of them are death mages. Hard to believe he’d throw away such a valuable resource here instead of stationing them with the rest of the troops in the castle.”

  Unfortunately, Tasia had a point.

  “Dastanarian?” Ashley said.

  “It’s what General Flynn would have done, had a group gallop straight through town to take control of the other gate.”

  That sounded like Uncle Benj, but it also wasn’t what Ashley wanted to hear. She had to get into the city. “Only two are mages?”

  “No idea,” Tasia said. “I can only test at a distance for the type that I … Wait. There’s another group. Nearby. Four people but only two horses. One is a death mage.”

  “Why would King Barius have people hiding in the woods?”

  “They seem to be watching the gate,” Tasia said. “And the mage is old. Really old.”

  “So they might be friendly?”

  Tasia shrugged.

  “Go check them out.”

  “Are you sure that’s wise?” Tasia said.

  “I’m sure it’s our only option.”

  * * *

  Tasia hesitated, listening.

  If the four people watching the gate spoke, it was in tones too low to reach her ears. Nothing about them gave any clue about their intentions. She could be walking into a trap, and if there were two mages present, she’d be captured, which probably meant she’d be killed. Ashley sure wouldn’t rescue her.

  Tasia frowned as she considered her alternatives. She had little time, and it wasn’t like she could sneak up on them. Nothing in her life had bestowed upon her any woodcraft.

  Oh well, the direct approach it was.

  She walked confidently, but quietly, allowing her footsteps to announce her presence to the group but, hopefully, not the Dastanarians guarding the gate. Her life sense followed one man as he silently rose and moved to flank her. With him in position, another man approached from the front, also without making a sound, and hid a few dozen yards ahead.

  With one final admonition about the lack of wisdom of her actions, she halted a short way from the bush where the man concealed himself. Her heart pounded. “Hi, I’m Tasia. Who are you?”

  A tall, thin man wearing simple clothes stepped from behind the bush. He tipped an old narrow-brimmed hat, revealing dark hair peppered with specks of gray. “Myles Mathis, mage hunter, at your service, my lady.”

  “And the gentleman behind me?”

  Myles shot her a look. “My son, Mortyn.”

  “If you would oblige,” Tasia said, “I’d feel more comfortable if I could see both of you.”

  Mortyn emerged from the trees somewhat sheepishly, carrying a blowgun at his side.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  Myles nodded his head.

  “Mage hunter, huh, bringing some back to Asherton?” Tasia said. “To what end? You’ve surely heard of the queen’s amnesty?”

  “I was promised a gold apiece for them if we delivered them to Duke Asher, but as soon as I told the guard at the castle I was a mage hunter, he turned me away before I could get another word out.” Myles shrugged. “I couldn’t find young master d’Adreci anywhere, and with the evacuation order, we set up here to wait as long as we could.”

  Tasia grinned. The Holy One bless Dylan! “Both people with you are mages?”

  “Yes … how did you—”

  “You’ll get your two gold and more,” Tasia said. “I just require a bit of assistance first.”

  * * *

 
; Ashley stared up at the top of the gate.

  “Open up, you dolts! It’s me, the niskma!”

  If the plan didn’t work, she was going to kill Tasia.

  A tan-liveried soldier stuck his head over the wall and peered down. Ashley pretended to be air-headed enough not to recognize that he wore an enemy uniform or that he had two death mages with him who surely knew they were facing at least two of the same.

  So many ways the plan could go wrong, and her neck was on the line.

  Myles had watched as the gate was seized from her father’s men, so he knew the enemy consisted of five brown-clad mages and six regular soldiers. Eleven well-trained professionals.

  Her little group included an eighty-year-old death mage who’d actually lived through the Wizards War, a fourteen-year-old slip-of-a-girl alchemist, two mundane men whose dress made them look like dirt farmers, her cousin who’d never hurt a fly, and herself. Not exactly the kingdom’s most effective fighting force. Oh, and with four mages against five, they had to count on the farmer’s kid to survive being drained of life long enough to put a dart into the final mage.

  So much simpler if she, as the strongest magic user present, could split her flows and block multiple opponents at once, but the process didn’t work that way. Even the weakest mage, like the geriatric the farmer had found, could block any opponent, but even if a split flow was much stronger than a flow from a weak mage, blocking with it didn’t work. And no one could explain to her why that was the case.

  Thanks to Tasia’s life sense, they at least knew the configuration of the Dastanarians on the other side of the gate. So yeah, all they had to do was charge through the gate, instantly identify the position of the mages, block all but one of them—which had to be a death mage because, if one were a kineticist, leaving him unblocked would negate any chance of the dart landing—and render that final one unconscious. And they had to do all that before the soldiers could attack them with mundane weapons.

  Sure. No problem.

  “Yes, my lady.” The soldier’s head disappeared, and the gate began to rise.

  Ashley clenched her hands around the pommel of her horse’s saddle. Not long until she had to spring into action. She much preferred staying behind the scenes.