by Guy Antibes
When the flyer landed, they covered it with branches that had been blown down by the storm. Valanna wasn’t below the tree where they found the oilcloth sheet.
“We’ll have to move further north.” Sandy grabbed a dead wooden branch. “I need some kind of weapon in my hands,” he said. The continued to walk north, sweeping from side to side. “She might already have been captured by the enemy.”
“I hope not,” Nullia said.
“Don’t say that. If she was captured, that means she’s still alive.” He continued to move through the underbrush.
Nullia spotted something to her right and called. “I think I see her!”
“Quiet,” Sandy said. “We aren’t exactly in friendly territory.”
“I’m not anyway,” Nullia said, looking at Sandy sideways. “You can always use your former allegiance as an excuse.”
He grinned. “The thought had crossed my mind.” He pushed on ahead of Nullia and stood over Valanna’s body. “She is still alive.”
She had ended up on a bed of pine needles surrounded by a thicket of pine trees.
“They could have passed ten paces from here and not seen a thing, if they were heading south,” Sandy said. He bent over her. “She is still alive. Do you know any healing spells?”
“I can close wounds, but I don’t see any blood from here.”
Sandy knelt down and carefully moved her limbs. “No broken bones that I can feel.” He then gently moved her head. “If she doesn’t have any neck injuries we can take her with us.” He rolled her over to reveal a branch poking in her back. Beneath her laid a small pool of blood. “I spoke too soon.”
Nullia gasped. “I can fix that if you take off her clothes.” She blushed. “I mean if you can remove enough to show her skin.”
Sandy began to shift her clothing. She wore some kind of underclothes beneath her dress, and he simply ripped a hole in it where the branch had poked through. “Is that enough?”
Nullia nodded. “Wipe the blood off as best you can.”
He pulled up his shirt and ripped a bit off. “Not clean, but it’s the best I can do.” Noting a wet bush close by, Sandy dampened the cloth and wiped away the blood.
“First a heat spell to minimize festering.” She assumed a pose and closed her eyes. “This isn’t going to work. You’ll have to lift her up and put her right by the tip.” She pulled out a wand from a slot in her pocket and pointed it out. “The tip should nearly touch the wound.”
Sandy seemed to ignore propriety as he gathered Valanna in his arms and held her back side up. “Will that work?”
Nullia merely nodded while she said a word, barely more than a whisper. The cauterized blood smell wafted up and made her cough, ending her pose and that part of her healing. She quickly shifted to the pose specifically developed to close the wound.
“It barely leaves a scar,” Sandy said.
“She still needs to heal, but we can move her now.” Nullia brushed herself off and slipped the wand back in its place. “Let’s hurry.”
They had just about made it back to the flyer when they heard sounds in the forest. Sandy spotted a thicket. Once they made their way in, the pair of them crouched over Valanna, hastily covering their hiding place with more fallen branches.
Rebel soldiers began to move past them. “Colonel Mirona has put them into retreat,” Sandy whispered in Nullia’s ear.
A moan from Valanna made Nullia flinch. She gently put her hand over Valanna’s mouth. “Quiet, we are surrounded by soldiers.” Nullia wanted to strike the sleep pose, but she couldn’t stand in her position.
“I’m still alive?”
Nullia looked down at Valanna. You are, but we don’t know how badly you are hurt. No broken bones that we can tell.”
“I maintained a shield until I hit the ground. I just hurt all over.”
“Don’t say a word,” Sandy said.
His urging silenced them. The murmurs and sounds of men withdrawing through the forest came and went. When the rebel soldiers withdrew, the woods were totally silent. No bird called or animal scurried.
New sounds came from the south, along with the pounding of feet and yelling of soldiers who didn’t care if they were heard. Nullia saw flashes of Loyalist uniforms flow past their hiding place.
“There is someone in here,” a soldier cried out, standing in front of their shelter, about ready to poke a sword into their lair.
~~~
Chapter Sixteen
~
The ground shook as arcing fireballs came from the rebel lines. The distance from the front lines gave the soldiers enough time to avoid the onslaught. Asem stood with Misson Dalistro among the General’s officers. Their mounts pawed the ground and bucked as soldiers struggled to control the frightened animals.
A messenger rode up and gave a tiny leather tube to a nearby officer. “A bird from Colonel Mirona, sir.” The messenger dropped to the ground, his horse stood, flanks filled with lather.
Niamo undid the strap to the tube and pulled out a rolled message. “Mirona’s men infiltrated the enemy and disarmed most of their magicians with a disabling spell that Asem and Kulara know.” The General’s eyes swiveled to Asem. “You know the spell?”
“I do, but I think the information comes too late.”
“Is does?” Misson said. “We have flyers. What is the range of the spell?” He looked at Bonigo, the head of the Loyalist magicians. “Isn’t there a spell that makes sound louder?”
Bonigo nodded, his long black beard shaking. “There is, but the pose…”
“No pose,” Asem said. “You put power into the word ‘worry’. It doesn’t disable, it makes any spell fade away. Any magician who remains under the Absorption spell will gradually fall unconscious as the spell goes away, restoring lost memories. I’m told it can be quite devastating.”
“I’ll go up and do it,” Kulara said, walking up to the group.
Asem knew of the risk. “You will need three magicians. One to move it, one to keep the shield strong, and the other to broadcast the word… if it works.”
“I’ve used the speech spell enough in the past. Worry?” Bonigo said.
Kulara nodded. “I’m experienced flying.”
“And I’m okay with shields,” Asem said. “Not much else.”
“Find someone stronger,” Kulara said. “It’s my life you’re shielding, and I intimately know how much power you have, my husband.
Asem fought off the anger that flushed his face. “I’d rather use my sword than my shield,” he said, managing a leer at his wife.
“Well said, Asem,” Kulara said.
In a few moments, Kulara, Bonigo and a Dark Red Master rose from the camp and flew over the enemy lines. Asem couldn’t hear the spell from where he stood, but as the flyer flew over the enemy lines, the fireballs began to weaken and then stop.
Cheers erupted from the Loyalist lines while General Niamo mounted. “Time to attack!”
~
Misson led a cavalry unit towards the left. Asem followed in his wake, his sword out, with a grin on his face. How long had it been since he rode into actual battle? The war with Pestle had not been fought with swords and lances, but with lies and deception administered over a long period. This time he fought as he had as a young man.
The rebels were slow to react to Misson’s charge. They had just begun to wheel their men to face the slanting cavalry when Loyalist soldiers slammed into the line.
Asem had expected pikes or at least a line bristling with spears, but those were concentrated on the center of the field, so they sliced right through less-experienced troops. After Asem moved through the first few rows in the line, they confronted un-uniformed men who turned and ran.
Misson had them turn and attack the backs of the regular soldiers. The charge had turned into a rout. The left side collapsed as the Loyalist infantry finally arrived to send the full flank into retreat.
As the rebels retreated, Niamo had planned for the left line to wheel
into the central forces. Asem noticed that the uniformed men were thicker in the front. He appreciated the fact that Niamo’s infantry maintained discipline and did not run after the retreating flank.
Kulara flew over them and landed by Misson. Asem rode over.
“There is a force coming.” She pointed towards the west. “They must have marched before dawn and been hidden in a small valley. I counted roughly five hundred men.”
Misson conferred with the infantry commander and split the left flank forces. He took all of the cavalry and formed a line to meet the oncoming force.
Asem held his horse steady. He adjusted on the small shield that protected the left arm, and then he leaned down and patted the neck of his horse. Misson had selected a good one for him.
He straightened up in time to see the oncoming rebel forces, running at full speed towards them. Misson held his forces still. The rebels had hundreds of paces to run and whoever let them run so far would have been relieved of command by Asem. The onslaught already slowed down as the attackers became winded.
Misson commanded his force forward. Asem rode into the melee, his sword rising and falling on the exhausted soldiers. His arm began to get tired, but he forced himself on until the rebels began their retreat. Misson made sure he made them run west, back from where they had come. If any circled around and joined the main force, they would be useless in battle by the time they arrived.
Asem nodded his approval to Misson, who turned around and motioned to Asem.
“The infantry commander can protect the flank at this point. It’s time to return to Niamo.” He looked east towards the main battle line. “He has pushed the rebels back hundreds of paces and it looks like he’s let them retreat.”
Looking over the battlefield ahead of him, Asem sensed something wrong. What was it? No flyer! Asem wanted to hurry to General’s side, but his horse had run enough. Blood covered the horse’s flank. It had taken more cuts than Asem had so he let the horse walk while Misson rode ahead of him.
Where had Kulara ended up, he thought, until he saw a line of blue fire sweep from the rebel side, taking out an entire line of Niamo’s soldiers. The rebels, heartened by the destruction, roared and began to amble towards the Loyalist lines.
The onslaught of the rebels took the Loyalists by surprise, and now the rebels began to push the Loyalists back. The line stalled. Asem saw a figure holding himself upright with his fists on his knees. Riotro? The man was dressed all in black. He remembered Trak showing much the same fatigue against a line of attacking magicians on their own retreat to Colcan.
If the man had the same power as Trak, he would be exhausted for days. Asem saw his opportunity and spurred his mount into a run. The magician was more vulnerable now than he would be in the future. He continued to ride towards the exhausted magician until a line of horses charged across the field and lifted the magician on to a mount, heading north.
Asem’s horse slowed to a walk. The poor thing didn’t have any more energy. Asem looked on helplessly as the magician fled off the field.
Rebel soldiers turned back and had began to retreat, now that the Loyalists had successfully ended their charge. Asem stood alone, facing the retreating soldiers. A line of them turned and began a counter-attack. His horse didn’t have anything left, and the front lines of the Loyalists were fifty paces behind him.
How could he possibly have put himself into such a disadvantageous position? He dismounted and stood facing the oncoming enemy with a sword in one hand and his small shield in the other. Perhaps this was it, he thought. Asem realized he didn’t have any regrets as he readied his sword.
The sky darkened. He looked up at the underside of a flyer.
“Hurry, get aboard,” Kulara said.
Asem didn’t waste any time grabbing onto the ledge and scrambled onto the floor, just as Kulara spoke the power word that thrust them high into the air.
~
Nullia took a deep breath and raised her hands, moving branches aside in the process. “We are Loyalists!”
“That’s one of the flying magicians,” a soldier said, while a group gathered at their hiding place.
An officer chanced by. “On your way,” he said to the soldiers. “Rout out the rebels. That’s why we’re in this stinking wood, remember?”
A few of the men looked a bit sheepish, but the rest of them merely grimaced and hurried on. The officer stayed.
He put his hand out to help Nullia out of the thicket, but she refused. “I am responsible,” she said. “Don’t kill him.” Nullia couldn’t control her racing heart.
The officer furrowed his brow.
“I had to enlist a helper to find Valanna Almond, whose flyer crashed.”
“A helper?” the officer said.
Two large hands poked out of the thicket followed by the rest of Sandy Pillora.
“Sandy,” the officer grinned. “You always find your way into mischief. How did you talk this lady into untying you?”
“It was my charm,” he said, smiling, but then his expression changed. “We have an injured person here. We had to hide while the rebels retreated.”
The officer put a hand to his chin. “You did have a chance to flee, didn’t you?”
Sandy nodded. “Riotro put me under a spell, and my actions today, hopefully, prove that it is gone.”
“Bring out the injured woman.” Sandy and Nullia pulled off more branches, giving him more room to carry a woozy Valanna out of the thicket.
“How are you going to get her out of this wood?” the officer said.
“Her flyer crashed, but mine didn’t,” Nullia said. “If you let Sandy go, he can accompany me back to camp. He can’t fly the platform, but he can keep Valanna from rolling off.”
“I am trusting you, Sandy.” The officer looked at Sandy with a stern expression.
“Well-placed,” Pillora said. “You have men to direct up ahead.”
“I do, don’t I? We should be through with these scum later, but don’t leave the camp. I’ll back you up.”
Sandy, still carrying Valanna, gave the officer a bit of a bow. “Thank you, sir.”
Valanna’s eyes looked glazed to Nullia. “We must get her elsewhere.” She also gave a very curt bow to the officer and took off towards the flyer.
Sandy put Valanna down once they reached their means of escape. She moaned and began blinking her eyes, bringing her hand to her head. “Are we safe?” she said.
Nullia patted her on the head after she removed a branch covering the flyer. “For now, my dear.”
~~~
Chapter Seventeen
~
The war at Dianza Pass began to dwindle as more and more Toryans on the Kandannan side were dragged out of ensorcellment. Tembul took Trak and Neel to an officers meeting, translating the discussion.
“They have agreed to leave a defensive force at the blocked pass,” Tembul said, pausing in places while the officers spoke. “The rest will head north, leaving units along the way. Small groups can move over the mountains, but not a supplied army.”
“We can head north to the Lazanti Pass, now?” Trak said. “Those are our original orders.”
“Indeed we can. They need to know about the worry spell, as well, and we are the fastest means.” Tembul listened a bit more and then the men stood up and began to leave. The commanding officer came over to Tembul and spoke to him, looking at Trak.
“He commends the foreigners for blocking the pass. His magicians tried to bring the mountain down, but lacked the power.”
“Tell him we are glad to do anything to keep Toryans from fighting each other,” Neel said.
Tembul grinned. “Good point.” He turned to speak to the commander.
The commander’s eyes widened, and then he said something else before giving them both a curt bow and left them standing in an empty tent.
“He wishes us well in the north and might meet us there. He was impressed with your group’s fighting skill, but especially Trak’s for being
so young.”
The compliment made Trak smile. “I’m glad we were recognized for something besides being from outside Torya.”
Tembul nodded. “You all were, but it’s always better for them to believe we were all involved.”
Trak blinked in surprise. “We all were, Tembul. I might have provided most of the power, but we all made it happen. Even you.” He clapped Tembul on the shoulder and left before they could see Trak’s face flush.
He walked towards his tent and then took a detour into the nearby woods, sitting on a large rock and putting his head in his hands. So much had happened in such a short time. The numbness that he had felt in the last few days had begun to go away.
Trak still felt the exhaustion of lifting so many rocks. He hadn’t told them quite how draining the experience was and how fighting the Toryans the next day had nearly done him in.
His mind played back the blood and the death that he experienced earlier that morning. He felt lucky that the Toryan soldier had responded to the ‘worry’ spell. Trak wondered if he had the will to finish him off. His mind played back the image of the soldier being squashed under a rock that he had dropped on him the day before, followed by the rest of the carnage he had dispensed to the Kandannans.
His hands began to shake, and he jammed his eyes shut, pressing his fists against them. Images of death and injury wouldn’t dissolve from inside his head, and they now seemed to overwhelm his thoughts.
The compliments now seemed like curses to him and the thought of doing it all over again to the Kandannans at Lazanti Pass seemed like an impossible task. He threw himself on the ground and covered his eyes with his arm.
What was happening to him? Who or what had he become? His brain now told him that killing people all the way to and from Bennin for a princess that didn’t hold his allegiance felt like a fool’s errand. His entire body shuddered with emotions that he couldn’t name.
Had everything been a game? That was how he approached it all, from learning magic at Honor’s shop to fighting with Gio’s students. He hated his abductors when they caught him just north of Mozira, but what had he really done to save Malena when they had left her for dead?