The human wizard, a hideous man so twisted and stunted that at first Koren thought he was an orc, got off his own horse less awkwardly, although also moving as if he were a puppet on a string. His arms and legs acted in jerky movements, uncoordinated, making the wizard lurch rather than walk. He, too, reached for a knife, his hand patting along the man’s belt until he found the knife by feel, then held it up in front of his eyes as if making sure his sense of touch had not deceived him.
“What is going on?” Bjorn whispered, keeping his eyes straight forward but assessing the orcs around them with his peripheral vision. Only Koren, Bjorn, the two wizards and the orc chieftain rode horses, the other orcs all marched with the shuffling gait characteristic of those creatures. With the wizards off their horses and appearing to have lost their senses, Bjorn judged whether this was their best chance to escape. It would be difficult in foreign territory, on strange mounts and with arms bound behind their backs, but they might never get a better chance to-
The human wizard, after staring stupidly at his knife, slowly lowered the blade and looked around, as if just then becoming aware of his surroundings. After a few seconds, the orc wizard did the same, their eyes rigidly forward, seeing only when they moved their heads. Bjorn felt a chill as they both stopped and focused on the same person; Koren Bladewell.
“Koren,” Bjorn whispered loud enough to be sure he was heard, not caring if the enemy wizards saw their tongue-tying spell had worn off. “I will go left, you-”
“Seize him!” The orc wizard bellowed in an otherwordly voice, pointed at Koren with the knife.
“Seize him!” The human wizard repeated his fellow’s action, and strode toward Koren faster than Bjorn thought could be possible for such an awkward gait.
“Koren!” Bjorn dug his heels into the side of his horse and the animal twitched, but three orcs quickly stepped in front of Bjorn, trying to grab onto the horse’s reigns.
“Bjorn!” Koren replied, his heart in his mouth. “No, don’t, they will kill you,” he saw a dozen arrows pointed at the former King’s Guard.
“What are they doing?” Bjorn repeated the question.
“I don’t know! I’ve never seen this,” Koren admitted. It must be a form of wizardry, but one he had never seen. If he had to guess, he would say the two enemy wizards were being controlled by an unseen force, and- Paedris?! Koren was overwhelmed by a mixture of hope and fear. Had the master court wizard of Tarador located Koren and taken control of the enemy wizards through magical means, to set free-
A dozen orcs pulled Koren off his horse, forcing him to kneel but taking care not to injure him, fearing the wrath of their dark master. The two wizards walked hesitantly toward him, their feet dragging on the ground and still moving like they had invisible strings attached to them. Their eyes were glassy, unfocused, looking through Koren rather than at him. They were acting very odd, the orc wizard tried to shift his knife from one hand to the other and stabbed himself in the palm, causing him to drop the blade. He bent down to look at it, nearly tripped on the discarded weapon, then straightened up and resumed walking toward Koren. That orc grabbed Koren’s hair in both hands, its claws scraping his scalp painfully, drawing his head back. “Evil one!” The orc wizard hissed. “You seek to harm my master, who is the rightful ruler of this world!”
The human wizard stepped right in front of Koren, so close that one of his knees bumped Koren’s chest. The wizard looked down, startled to see he had overstepped. He swayed back and forth until he shuffled his feet backwards, his eyes locked on the knife in his hand and not on where his feet were going. “Fail, you have failed,” the wizard hissed. “You hoped to kill my master, you will die instead.” The knife swung slowly forward until the blade was pressed against Koren’s throat. “Die.”
“No!” Koren panicked. “No, please, don’t. I have power!”
“Koren,” Bjorn warned. “Don’t move, you’ll make the blade cut you,” he saw the wizard was standing rigidly still, the arm holding the knife twitching. No, the blade pulled back slightly, so it was no longer touching the skin of Koren’s exposed throat. Then the wizard jerked and the blade pushed forward, only to pull back again. It was as if the evil wizard was trying to make up his mind, or to resist whatever power was controlling him.
The wizard’s hand opened and the blade tumbled to the ground, the hilt bouncing off the wizard’s own boot. Slowly, the human wizard blinked, while the orc wizard remained rigidly still, unseeing.
“Bjorn, what’s happening?” Koren asked anxiously.
“I don’t know, other than there’s no longer a blade at your throat,” Bjorn admitted. “Don’t move, don’t provoke them.”
The human wizard’s hands darted out to press palms against Koren’s forehead, and there was a red glow of light from under those hands. Koren slumped, his eyes rolling back but the iron grip of the orc held up upright. As the glow grew brighter, the human wizard’s head was flung back, his mouth open and pointed to the sky for a second, an inhuman cry issuing from his mouth.
Then that wizard collapsed, nearly knocking Koren over. That action broke whatever spell was controlling the enemy wizards, for the orc shook his head, released Koren and scrambled backwards, surprised to see where he was.
“Koren? Koren!” Bjorn called, restrained by the arrows pointed at him. He could do nothing while the boy lay on the ground, unmoving. No, Bjorn could see the boy’s chest was moving, he was alive, which was better than the wizard laying sprawled in front of Koren. That man’s already gray and yellowish skin was dissolving, Bjorn saw with horror. As he watched, transfixed, the evil wizard’s form began to crumple under his dirty robes.
“Paedris,” Mwazo gasped weakly, snapping back to alertness. “I’m sorry. I failed.”
“You didn’t fail,” Paedris barely could muster strength to roll upward, supported by one elbow. “Drink this,” he offered his water flask and Cecil drank as much as he could, much of the water running down his face onto the ground. “I saw part of it, I think,” as he had given power to his friend, he had been able to glimpse fuzzy impressions through the connection. “At the end there, a wizard died but it was not Koren?”
“No, that was not Koren. I came close, so close!” Mwazo balled up his fists and pressed them to his forehead, tapping himself to relieve his frustration. “I was able to make the enemy fear Koren was a danger, a trick we were playing, a trap. That was easier than I expected because the demon already distrusted a gift falling into its lap. Under control of the demon, two wizards were going to kill Koren, to eliminate the threat. They,” he shook his fists, “were so close!”
“I sensed hesitation, confusion?” Paedris guessed.
“Yes. The demon hesitated, it could not decide. It fears doing something it could not undo, and if it killed Koren, it would forever lose that source of power. If I had pressed any harder I would have revealed myself-”
“I know. You did the best you could, the best any of us could. It is my understanding that you cannot make the demon do anything against its will?”
“Correct. All I can do is reinforce a feeling already residing in the person, or demon, who I contact. We knew the demon would be suspicious of capturing an immensely powerful wizard it knew nothing about, so I was able to enhance that fear.”
“It wasn’t enough,” Paedris said simply.
“No. No, in the end, the demon decided to test Koren’s power, it sacrificed a wizard to do that. Once the demon saw the overwhelming power the boy can command, its greed and lust for power overcame its fear. Nothing I could do will deter the demon now, Paedris. We are lost.”
“Perhaps,” Paedris pushed himself onto his knees. “No, Cecil, do not get up, you need rest.” Paedris himself almost fell down from a wave of dizziness. “I am drained, it must be worse for you. I will get water, and we will rest here today.”
Cecil nodded and tried to relax, shuddering when he thought of how he had brushed against the mind of a demon. “Paedris, I sense something
else.”
“What is that?”
“You are not disappointed that Koren lives,” Cecil’s lips curled in a knowing smile.
“No, I am not,” Paedris agreed. “Nor are you.”
Cecil nodded. “What next? Is there a next? I fear we are lost, Paedris.”
“I do not know if there is a next for any of us, but we cannot stop now just because we fear the future.”
“Then, what next?”
Lord Paedris don Salva de la Murta, leader of the Wizards Council and official wizard to the royal court of Tarador, stood and brushed off the knees of his pants. Pants. Good, sensible pants that were rugged and comfortable for traveling in rough country, not fancy robes what were too hot and got caught on every bramble bush. “I do not know about you, Cecil, but if this truly is to be the end of all things, I would like to try my hand at challenging a demon directly.”
“Are you mad, Paedris?”
“Perhaps, but at this point,” he winked, “does it matter?”
“I suppose not,” Cecil mused. “Better to go down fighting?”
“Exactly. People have long spoken of my legendary power, it is time to put it to the test. At worst, I could at least harm and weaken our enemy, eh?”
Cecil thought the worst thing that could happen would be for the demon to crush Paedris like a bug, but he did not say that. “What are we waiting for, then? I believe the demon’s castle is in those yonder mountains.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The incident with the two wizards puzzled and troubled Koren. At first, he had thought the strange, jerky motions of the two enemy wizards might had been caused by a spell cast by Paedris, an attempt to rescue Koren. But when one wizard held his head back and the other had a knife poised at his throat, he feared they would kill him. Instead, the human wizard acted oddly, touching Koren’s forehead, and then dying. The orcs had poured oil on the dead wizard’s shriveled body and burned it, while the orc wizard had acted dazed the rest of that day. Koren had no idea what to make of the strange incident. Had the wizards meant to kill him, then changed their minds? He did not think wizards of Acedor could make important decisions on their own, which meant the choice to threaten Koren, then keep him alive, came from the demon.
And that terrified him.
Madame Chu gestured for quiet so she could concentrate. As she was almost surrounded by an army, with people making noise though they were ordered to be still and tried their best to comply, she had to mentally block out stray sounds. Wind on the hilltop caused tent fabric to flap, horses whinnied, people coughed, loads shifted in wagons and sentries called out challenges to scouts returning from ranging wide around the army’s flanks. There was seldom truly complete silence in the real world, and Wing had long ago developed an ability to ignore distractions.
When she was ready, she withdrew her senses from the world of the real and drifted gently into the realm of the spirits, where it was all too easy to get lost and forget the passage of time. Her fellow wizards lent their power to her, or acted as magical sentries to protect her while she was vulnerable. Two of the most skilled wizards, one from Lord Mwazo’s homeland and one from Indus, accompanied her into the depths of the spirit realm, there to help her focus the frighteningly awesome power that could be wielded by more than two dozen wizards from many lands, who had gathered to help Tarador’s struggle against the darkness.
Wing knew exactly where she wished to go and exactly where she needed to focus the power, yet though she had been there twice before, it took a frustratingly long time to find the spot again. Going anywhere through the spirit world always took too long, for there were many distractions, and a wizard’s mind tended to drift. That drifting adopting the fuzzy sensibilities of the spirits, could be dangerous, a wizard’s consciousness could become trapped and slowly absorbed into the spirit world, until the physical body outside was abandoned and the wizard became one with the spirits, never again to remember the world of the real.
After three tries, one less than expected, Wing found the correct spot under the dam and began to release power. Not even the combined power of the assembled wizards could breach the dam made of rock and soil, but when Wing had first examined the area at the request of General Magrane, she realized the dam was already rotten within. Water seeping into and under the dam had eaten it away at the bottom, making the foundation a soggy, slippery mess of slick mud. Below the dam, the old riverbed had steady trickles of water forming creeks though the creeks did not reach far, being absorbed in the dusty ground after less than a mile. In time, perhaps a hundred or less years, the dam would give way on its own, failing as the lake behind it swelled with snowmelt and spring rains.
Neither Wing nor Tarador could wait one hundred years for nature to run its course. With the enemy by now surely alerted to the danger, they would be frantically attempting to move supplies out of the old river valley, an effort that would take days, even a full week considering the mountains of supplies piled up. Enemy wizards were trying to strike Wing, blocked for the moment by wizards supporting her, but that protection diverted their strength away from breaching the dam and they could not maintain that protection for long.
If Wing was successful, the enemy wizards would soon understand they had failed to stop her.
A dam that was undermined by water and rotten within would still be too heavy and solid for wizards to move, but it had occurred to Wing that she did not have to move the entire dam. No, she could get the water to do that for her! All she needed to do was create fine cracks all the way from back to front of the dam, and as water under high pressure shot through the cracks, the water itself would widen the cracks into channels, then gaps and then a full breach until the dam suddenly gave way. With the dam over one hundred feet high and the lake behind it more than a mile wide, there was a massive amount of water pressure on the dam, especially at the bottom.
The bottom of the dam, in the sticky silt accumulated there over the centuries, is where Wing focused the magical power provided to her by ten of their strongest wizards. Under the force of magical energy, the saturated soil gave way in a crack that at first was no more wide than a finger. When water began shooting through that crack out the face of the dam, Wing moved her attention to another spot, and created a thin crack there. Though the amount of material moved to create each crack was small, the energy required was tremendous, and after three cracks were flowing with powerful jets of water, Wing was shaking to hold herself together. One more, one more crack next to another, to make a wide gap between them, and she would be done, exhausted.
Focusing magical power through the spirit world to bore one last, thin channel through the dam was nearly Wing’s undoing. As she burned through the last few yards toward the face of the dam, she felt herself slipping away, losing her sense of self and reality in the spirit realm. Alarmed, she tried to pull herself back but it was too late, it was impossible to tell where she was and she could no longer feel a connection to the real. At the last moment as she flailed about, losing hope, she felt a tingle at the back of her mind, gently guiding her up, up, up and outward, pulling and coaxing her, suffusing her with a sense of warmth and comfort and direction.
“Ah!” Wing gasped as she was rudely snapped back into the real. She gasped, choking because she had forgotten how to breathe while in the spirit world, her body responded on its own or she would have passed out.
Beside her, a young wizard also choked but for a different reason, she was nauseous from the shock of suddenly pulling herself back into the world of the real. Trying to breathe while fighting her protesting stomach, she spoke out of concern for the other wizard but also to take her mind off her own troubles. “Are you with us, Madame Chu?”
“No, or it doesn’t feel like I am.”
Olivia laughed, which was a bad idea as it almost made her lose her breakfast.
“You should not have done that, Olivia,” Wing scolded, sitting up and wagging a finger at the young wizard. “You have not been fully train
ed, you could have been lost yourself.”
“You were lost, master wizard. You wouldn’t allow me to lend you power, or to fend off enemy wizards,” Olivia pouted. “I couldn’t do nothing and watch you fade away.”
“Don’t ever do that again, until you are ready. And,” Wing’s expression softened, “thank you. I owe my life to you.”
Olivia paused as the ground shook under them. “If you were successful, all of Tarador may owe you today. Can we watch, please?” She asked eagerly.
“I wouldn’t miss this,” Wing admitted. Other wizards helped the two stand up, and they walked around the side of the hill, where the front face of the dam could be seen.
Regin Falco stood with the crown princess and her commander of the Royal Army, watching water spouting from multiple cracks in the dam. At first, he was disappointed, even anxious, as the jets of water reached impressively far into the old riverbed, but were thin as had no apparent effect on the dam. Could the wizards have failed? Or did their plan work, but there simply had not been enough power to push aside millions of tons of rock and soil? Regin knew that wizards, despite their typical arrogant confidence, were too often guessing about what they could and couldn’t do. According to Magrane, Lord Salva himself had not been entirely sure he could actually pull down the Gates of the Mountains until the rocks at the base of those structures began to fracture and shift.
If Madame Chu failed to breach the dam, Regin’s plans could be in great disarray, and his own life in danger. He had dutifully reported to the enemy the plan to cross the river and raid into Acedor. But Regin’s message had included what he knew must be a bogus story, of the raid being for the purpose of cutting supply lines between the interior of Acedor and the host of troops massed just west of the River Fasse. At the time, Regin strongly suspected he wasn’t being told the full truth, and after studying a map he began to believe he knew Magrane’s real plan.
Deceptions (Ascendant Book 3) Page 35