“Yes. You will.”
He shivered again.
“The Tower will fall. It will be mine. And then our strength will be known.”
When the Tower fell, he would get his reward. He would earn power that even he did not have now.
A wave of excitement rushed through him. Yes… All would know their strength soon enough.
“You will go now and make things ready,” the voice commanded.
He bobbed his head, nodding his agreement. With it, the flames seemed to fade into nothing and disappear. The room lightened somewhat, so that he could almost see his hand if he held it out in front of him. He knew what he needed to do. There were others waiting for him now.
He moved toward the door he knew was behind him. At least, it had been behind him when he’d entered. He could see nothing in the dark, could not really remember where he was in the room.
I can change that.
With the thought, a glow erupted in front of him. A huge ball of light seemed to float before him, illuminating everything. With the light, he could suddenly see everything better, could see where he was in the small room.
Turning his head, he saw a small wooden shelf in one corner, its stain fading. The door was near the shelf.
How did I get so turned around?
It did not matter now. What mattered was that he needed to reach the room where others waited. It was his turn to issue commands.
He stepped quickly to the door and let himself out. It was better lit out in the narrow hall, the lamps along the walls nearly brushing at his robe. At least he had kept them lit, so he could see his steps on his way out. He had not worried that someone might have followed him.
He found his way quickly to the end of the hall, and without pausing, he quickly went down, taking the stairs two at a time as he readied himself for what he would say to the others. They would obey.
At the second landing, he turned down the hall. It was wider here, enough so that at least four men could walk abreast. Fewer lamps were lit along the walls. The shadows seemed to stretch out ahead of him, pulling at him. He ignored the sensation. He passed several doors before coming to the one he wanted.
It looked aged and unused for years. Rust clung to the steel hinges, and cobwebs adorned the metal handle. He was careful when he pushed it open not to disrupt either. It was best to let the appearance of age and disuse remain.
The room was dark, as he had instructed. The glowing light he generated reappeared, casting light about the small room. Seven Magi were now visible around the room, few close enough to another to touch, and all with hoods covering their faces. He suspected few knew of any of the others’ involvement.
“It is good you all are here before me,” he began.
It was best to establish his authority. It was best to instill a little fear. He saw them nod. Good, he knew. They would follow.
“We must know what Alriyn is about. We must know what the general is about.” He paused looking about the room.
He had not had time to discover what Endric’s ploy was, though he suspected. The man had always been far too informed. It had to have been his decision to send the apprentices north, but they would be too late to do anything.
“What reports do you have?” he asked.
He waited and listened. Most he had already heard. Some were new. They would be ready. He smiled and could almost see the fear in their eyes as he did.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Roelle looked around the village. The small thatch-covered house to her left seemed much brighter since some of the Magi warriors had begun using it. To her right, a similar house was brightly lit as well. Everyone was glad for the night in a town, brief though it would be.
Though small, a low wall encircled the whole of it. She saw the rough stone outline from where she stood, dark shadows covering much of it. It reached the height of her chest, low enough that she could still see over, and high enough that a normal-sized man would be able to find cover behind it. It would serve its purpose.
Her feet thumped lightly along the stone road as she walked, the sound muffled by her soft leather soles, and her gaze darted quickly about her. She never let her eyes rest for long. There was much to see. Much to watch for. A large part of her was afraid to let her guard down, afraid that they might miss an attack. They had almost missed today’s.
Soft footsteps broke through her reverie and the night’s silence. Roelle turned quickly to see who was following. Lendra.
“Are you feeling better?” she asked.
Lendra nodded. “As soon as we left the valley, it started going away. I’ve been feeling normal since about nightfall.” Her voice was a soft whisper, her breath visible in the cool night air. “How is Indrosea?” she asked.
She had gotten worse on the two-hour ride from the valley.
“The same. We can’t seem to wake her, and healing has done little. Selton is with her now.” She nodded in reply. “He is among the most skilled of us. He will do what he can.”
“What will you do now?” she asked.
Roelle looked around at the small town, their protection for the night. “We need to send proof to the Council,” she answered. They had thought to take back a body, covering it with a tarp, but the guides had been unable to stand the stench, so they had left it behind. They had taken a head, though, coating it in oil and wrapping it in enough coverings that the guides had been able to tolerate traveling with it.
“You will go back?” she asked.
Roelle looked at her, then looked at the empty houses of the village. The story of the woman who had lost her son and husband stuck with her. “I must,” she said, and it pained her. “The Deshmahne remain a threat and we’re too few…”
“The Denraen said their soldiers would not have been able to help,” Lendra said, clearly changing tact. “The guides speak of you and the other Magi as soldiers now, and I hear respect.”
Most had done little so far to earn respect, yet they were soldiers. It was still a difficult transition for her to feel like anything other than a Mage, but she knew she must.
Lendra smiled at her, and Roelle felt herself relax. “You move in a way they cannot,” she said. “It must be something of your abilities.”
“Alriyn thought so,” she said quietly. None had ever learned if the Magi had physical abilities; they had focused on their mental gifts for centuries. Yet they now knew the Magi did have physical abilities as well. They were quick to learn, Roelle had noted. Their movements were more fluid, more natural, than the men they learned from. It had not taken long for their abilities to surpass their instructors.
Except Endric.
None had beaten Endric. And Jakob—she didn’t think about him as often anymore, but she hadn’t beaten him either. If only she’d had more time to get to know him. He was… intriguing. It surprised her that she would travel as far as she had to find someone who appealed to her the way he did.
She shook Jakob from her thoughts. It would not do to spend time thinking about someone she wouldn’t see again soon, even if he had been sent north. Hers was a different mission.
“Will the Council help?” Lendra asked.
“I don’t know,” she answered. She wasn’t sure they could help even if they wanted to. Most had lived decades or longer with their Urmahne training. Roelle had not even reached twenty, and still she struggled with these new ideas that went against what she had been taught.
They stood in silence for a moment and stared at the sky. After a while, she lowered her gaze to the wall and the warriors who patrolled its perimeter. Magi eyesight gave an them advantage, but Roelle worried about how they would see at night what was difficult to see in the full light of day.
Lendra gagged suddenly, and Roelle turned to her. “What is it?”
“I don’t know. The smell…”
Smell. That had been all the notice they had earlier. “Where?” She heard the urgency in her own voice. She’d need to be more careful with her tone.
Lendra
stretched out her hand, pointing to the wall to her left. “There I think.” She paused, sniffing the air. “Yes, definitely there. But there’s something more. I can’t quite put my finger on it.” She grimaced as she started to pale.
“Lendra. Run to the center of the village and sound the alarm. Then stay inside the house with Hester and the Denraen.”
She nodded, gave Roelle’s arm a squeeze, and took off running.
Roelle turned her attention back to the wall and sprinted to where Lendra had pointed. As she ran, she pulled her sword from its sheath. It felt heavier than usual. Probably heavy with the knowledge it would soon be used for more than mere yard play. She would fight again and she would kill. She knew it was necessary, knew that it was right, yet still worried that she would hesitate. Would the Urmahne education overwhelm her knowledge of what she needed to do, or would she be able to fight, as she knew she must?
Nearing the low wall, several of the warriors on patrol saw her, saw her sword unsheathed, and ran to join her.
The effect was almost immediate. Warriors came running from all directions, Selton among them, all careful to mask the sounds of their footsteps as much as possible. It wasn’t long before they were nearly forty strong along the wall. Though they were larger in number, there were other areas to patrol, other duties that needed tending. Help would come if they needed it.
“What do you see?” Selton asked her.
“Nothing. Lendra smelled them,” she whispered. Stretching out with her enhance vision, she still saw nothing.
They waited.
With as many people as now hunkered with her near the wall, it was amazingly quiet. The occasional cricket chirped, and the fires from the hearths of houses they’d settled into crackled faintly, but otherwise the night was silent.
They waited.
It felt like time stood still.
At the same time, it wasn’t a long wait. Rennen suddenly motioned with a quick flick of his head out into the night, and Roelle focused her eyes into the distance, searching for motion, before finally seeing it. Only about twenty feet away and coming in quickly.
She couldn’t believe how quickly they moved or how difficult it was to see them. They were nothing more than an dark fog, flashes of form and little else.
These thoughts passed through her mind in the short span between seeing them and when they reached the wall. They climbed it easily, their movements quick and silent. Claws helped them move up and over the wall as if it were nothing. Suddenly, they were upon them and moving almost faster than she could track.
How did we only lose one the last time?
The thought came suddenly and was gone. She slashed with her sword at the first sign of movement from the creatures.
She felt the thud of impact as it jarred her arm and the rest of her body. The creature fell, materializing as it dropped to the ground in a mess of blood and gore. Roelle ignored it, moving onto the next target. She flowed from one creature to another, her sword a flurry of energy and movement as she attacked each creature she encountered.
Roelle used the trick Endric had taught her, the one she had taught the others, about focusing their minds, opening them as if stretching toward their abilities. With it, there was a sense of slowing such that she could respond more quickly than she could otherwise. But even with her abilities, she struggled.
They fought for what seemed hours. Her arms began to burn with the effort. She hacked at the creatures with her sword to penetrate their thick skin. The vile odor of their blood filled the night air as she hacked. She could almost taste it. The creatures and her sword were a blur in the night.
One of the creatures reached too close and she was forced back. Without thinking what she did, she froze the air around it, and then struck the creature. She mouthed a quick prayer for strength even as she felt her energy waning.
Then as suddenly as it had all begun, there didn’t seem to be another creature for her to attack. They had won.
She looked around and counted about thirty of the creatures, gray skin as repulsive now as it had been that afternoon, lying dead or dying on the ground. Many missed limbs or bore gaping wounds across their abdomens. She looked at her troops. All looked exhausted and all stared at her. Her throat was too dry for words, so she said nothing.
On the ground near the wall, one of the warriors lay motionless, back twisted at an impossible angle. Long, dark hair flowed from her head, a pool of blood forming around it.
Emili.
Nearby was another warrior, another woman, mouth frozen in a scream, her head detached from her body.
Sessah.
She wanted to vomit.
It was an escape path. The creatures that had decided to run rather than die had fought their way out as much as they had fought their way in.
She began to turn away when he heard a moan from near the wall. It was a deep sound, scarcely a breath.
She ran over, dropping her sword as she ran. Matthew lay nearly motionless next to the wall, his chest barely rising. A huge tear opened his intestines to the night air, and the stink of them was overpowering up close. His mouth worked at words, air seeping from wounded lungs.
“Help me.” She saw the words on Matthew’s lips more than she heard the sound from his voice. The cry tore at her.
She closed her eyes and focused. She found the open part of her mind and stretched to fill it, knowing she would need every ounce of her skill to save him. Her hands ran over wounded flesh, closing it together. As her hands closed around the flesh, she reached out with her own energy probing into Matthew’s flesh. It was cold.
She felt where his energy had left the flesh. Stretching, she tried to fill the void with her own energy, forcing as much as she could, and then more, and then more as she drew upon the manehlin. Still the flesh would not warm, would not retake its own energy. She tried to force more and more as she started screaming...
…and found herself pulled backward.
She looked up. Selton had grabbed her under the arms, pulling her back.
“You can do nothing save kill yourself. He’s gone.”
“I need to try.”
Selton lifted her to her feet. “You can do nothing. I can do nothing.” The words were soft and bereft of any emotion. And coming from Selton, so gifted at healing, final.
She stared up at the sky. The world was dark around them, the night silent again. After a while, she looked over at Selton. He shook his head.
“Jianna is gone. And Torre. As are two of our guides.”
“Killed?” she heard herself ask. It seemed so distant from where her mind was.
“No. Gone,” Selton replied. “They were taken before they could join Lendra and the other Denraen back at the house. Jianna and Torre were injured in the fighting and have since disappeared, as have the guides.” His gaze shifted across their small battlefield. “They just disappeared in the battle.”
This night was getting worse by the hour. She found her gaze following the dead warriors to the wall. Along the escape path.
They should follow. And lose more? How could they not try to save them?
She shook her head, clearing it. The cause was what was important. They were to find the Antrilii and report back to the Council. Did they really need to find the Antrilii now that they had found proof of these creatures? Their numbers were too few as it was, and she knew they could not face many more attacks like this. Now they only had Hester and one guide remaining.
She looked up again at the black night and the stars, sending out another prayer to the gods for help and for strength.
“What now?” Selton asked.
She didn’t get a chance to answer. Lendra came running up to them, her eyes widening as she saw the mess of the creatures lying strewn about the wall. Her face must have carried a strange expression because the first words she said to Roelle were, “I know you told me to stay inside the house”—her eyes darted about again before resting on her—“but your Mage, Inraith, sent me to fi
nd you.”
Roelle nodded, encouraging her to go on.
“There was another attack on the other side of the camp. Stronger than this one.” She shook her head, disbelieving. “He asked you to bring some warriors with you to help.”
Irritation rose within her. Roelle should have anticipated and planned for simultaneous attacks.
Motioning to some of the nearest Magi, they passed the message on to others. She began running, Selton and Lendra beside her, and about ten other Magi following. It was going to be a long night.
“Stay with Hester this time, Lendra.” She tried to make her tone soft, but was sure that it came off more harshly than she’d intended.
The town was not large, so running from one side to the other didn’t take long. Her ears brought the scene to her before her eyes could. It was the sound of battle, a few screams, but it seemed fewer defenders than attackers. She wasn’t sure if she and her ten would be enough to make a difference.
When she finally saw the battle, her heart dropped. There were nearly six dozen of the creatures and only twenty of her warriors already fighting alongside Inraith. More of the creatures crawled over the wall as she watched. A few already lay dying on the hard ground, and she saw one of the Magi down as well. She couldn’t make out features in the darkness. She didn’t know which of her friends she’d already lost, and she didn’t have time to wait.
Roelle moved in. She didn’t pause to gesture a command, simply attacked with the image of the dead Mage warrior implanted in her mind, rage granting her strength. She forgot about the burning in her shoulders, ignored the jarring that came again with each thrust and swipe of her sword. She focused only on the creature in front of her. When the creature she was fighting fell or moved, she turned to another creature, to another attack. Her movements flowed. Always, she pushed at her abilities. It gave her clarity, and she felt her movements quicken but her strength would not last long by doing it. The sword felt a part of her like it had never felt before as she moved in a deadly dance.
She felt every jolt as her sword found grotesque flesh, felt the rush of warm blood spray over her hand more times than she could count. A clearing opened around her, and as she looked at what unfolded around her, she realized the creatures still had them outnumbered.
The Warrior Mage (The Lost Prophecy Book 2) Page 22