Magician In Exile (Power of Poses Book 2)

by Guy Antibes

  The flyers stopped their descent when they touched the shields. Trak could feel them begin to buckle a bit. “Hold on and be prepared to shield yourselves in clusters like we practiced,” Trak said. He had had only one real experience in a magician’s duel when they had captured Sunflower in Gorinza. That felt like so long ago, but it was only a few seasons past.

  “Be ready!” Trak said as he identified magicians in their poses. He pointed his sword and shot bolts of lightning with such force that they pierced through the barrier and knocked down the magicians. After four shots, the shield began to buckle and the flyers began to tilt at different angles until they crashed down on the magicians. Fighting erupted between the enemy magicians and Trak’s group.

  Trak noticed Riotro trying to sneak through a crowd of soldiers. He shot a pulse of energy over his head into the line of enemy who tumbled backwards into each other, leaving Riotro exposed in a large empty circle.

  “Riotro!” Trak called as he jumped off the flyer and stumbled over bodies towards the Black Master.

  His opponent stood in shield pose and inched his way around. “So we meet again.” He changed pose quickly and blew up the dust and dirt of the battlefield, while he threw off his black robe, revealing the loose white shirt and tight-fitting pants of a fencer. He quickly slid into another shield pose.

  “So you’ve adapted my pose movements,” Trak said. The rest of the battle dimmed around him as he concentrated on his opponent.

  Riotro sneered. “A style change, but a good one, thank you. Why don’t you surrender now?”

  Trak chanced a glance to see his two teams destroying most of Riotro’s magicians. “Surrender? You are on your own.”

  “It doesn’t matter, boy. I am enough to defeat the entire army. You saw my explosions?”

  “Did those on your own?” Trak said. “Or did you need Vashtan help?”

  Riotro’s eyes widened just enough to inform Trak that the explosions were a group effort. He didn’t really know much about working as a team on a single spell. Ben and Honor had talked to him of it, but they never had the time to practice that technique. “Just you and me, Master,” Trak said.

  Riotro’s chest puffed up a bit as he shifted his pose and began to throw spell after spell at Trak. Nothing made it past Trak’s shields, but he felt the buffeting of Riotro’s power beginning to weaken his protection. Trak quickly rolled to his right and began a series of alternating shield and attack poses.

  He put his full focus on anticipating Riotro’s next move. Using his extensive duelling experience allowed Trak to anticipate Riotro’s movements as the man flowed from one pose to the next.

  Riotro pulled a wand from his boot and began to send ice, fire, lighting, and pure force at Trak. His shields slowed up the effects, but enough of the spells leaked through his shields to tatter his clothes and push him one way and then another. At least he gave Riotro as much as he received.

  The duel had lasted long enough. Trak drew his sword while he assumed another shield spell.

  “A sword?” Riotro said. His lips curled into a cruel grin as he set a very strong shield around his body. “No one has ever broken through this.”

  Trak began to slam his sword against the physical shield that Riotro had created. The Black Master laughed as Trak beat on his shield, but Trak was intent on any movement of Riotro in breaking down the shield. He backed up, breathing heavily, and created another shield of his own.

  The two men faced each other, bloody, torn, and breathless, as they held similar poses, glaring at each other. “It’s time to say goodbye,” Trak said.

  Riotro tilted his head back just far enough not to break the effect of his pose and laughed. “You think you can defeat me?”

  Trak raised his sword and pushed as much energy as he could into its tip and slammed it into Riotro’s shield. Riotro went head over heels into the soldiers, as if hit by a mighty wind, knocking many of them down. Trak knew that a number of those men would never rise from the ground.

  He walked over to the now-comatose magician and stood with his sword in his hand, the grip now slick with his own blood. He raised the sword to kill Riotro and…couldn’t bring himself to do it.

  Trak grit his teeth in frustration, warring with himself to end this man’s life, but in the end, he lowered his sword, planting the tip in the ground. He only now heard the silence around him. Battle sounds still rang through the air, but all those surrounding the circle had stopped to observe the duel.

  He looked down at Riotro and at the dead magicians and dead soldiers. His magicians were all intact. Trak took a shuddering breath. He couldn’t let Riotro go free. The man could not be allowed to practice magic again. He clamped his mouth tight as he fought against himself. Kill or not? His mind worked furiously for a solution. He only had seconds to act before the stunned crowd would do something.

  Finally, he raised his sword again high above his head and brought it down on Riotro.

  His first stroke took off Riotro’s left foot and a second stroke took off his right. If Riotro couldn’t stand he couldn’t pose. Now they could hold him safely, without fear of his posing. If the man bled to death on the battlefield, that would be left to chance and not Trak’s doing.

  He turned to the two magician teams and slumped his shoulders, letting his sword tumble to the ground.

  “I would have never thought of that,” Neel said.

  Valanna ran into his arms. “I have no power besides yours,” she nearly whispered. “Thank you for what you have done.”

  Then Honor threw her arms around him. “I don’t know if what you did was a mercy, but I am proud of you.”

  She jerked right after Tembul yelled.

  Trak felt the flash of power through her as she dropped senselessly to ground. He turned back to see two Vashtans, dressed as ordinary soldiers, their dark freckled skin and light hair shouting out their origins. One had closed Riotro’s wounds while the other had attempted to kill Trak. Both of them took one of Riotro’s arms and vanished.

  Where could they have gone? He ran to a flyer and took it up into the air. He spared the barest of moments to see his fellow team members clustering around Honor’s still body. To the northwest, he sensed a flash and took the flyer in that direction. The two Vashtans stood over Riotro’s body. Trak’s shadow covered them. They looked up and disappeared again.

  Trak felt, and then saw the flash. They were far ahead of him. They disappeared, and although Trak flew in their direction, he lost where the next flash occurred, and then… nothing. Riotro had escaped.

  ~~~

  Chapter Thirty

  ~

  The letdown of not capturing Riotro made him grit his teeth and then he thought of Honor. He shifted his pose and flew back. All over the battlefield, the Loyalists had gained the upper hand and he could see pockets of the fight ending. Trak couldn’t detect any conflict in the vicinity where he had fought Riotro.

  He flew down towards Honor. soldiers crowded around a shield that the magicians still had active as Trak descended. He ran towards his fallen aunt.

  “Is she dead?” he blurted out as soon as he reached them.

  Neel shook his head. “Tembul managed to get a weak shield up that probably saved the both of you.”

  Trak looked down to see an angry burn on Honor’s back. That bolt had been meant for him. He knelt by his aunt, eyes watering.

  “Trak?” Honor said, eyes glassy and unfocused. “Riotro?”

  He looked around at his team. “Gone. Taken by Vashtans. They have some kind of spell that allows them to teleport their bodies for a league or so, but I couldn’t keep up with them as they jumped from spot to spot.”

  “At least he won’t be running Santasia as a magician,” Neel said.

  “You extinguished the source of his power,” Valanna nodded and looked up at Trak. “And you? How are you?”

  Trak snorted out something that might have sounded like a laugh, although Trak didn’t feel that way. “I am sore all over
and will need a bit of help myself, but not…” he looked down at Honor, “not like that.” He knelt down beside her and took her hand. “You get yourself better.”

  His words were rewarded with the weakest of smiles.

  A column of Loyalist soldiers flooded the area. Soldiers ran to defensive positions as General Niamo entered.

  “I heard that you killed Master Riotro?” the General said. Trak could see no friendliness in the man’s eyes. “Are these his?” The General threw Riotro’s detached feet on the ground.

  “I maimed him, and his Vashtan friends helped him escape.”

  “Escape, you say?” Niamo narrowed his eyes. “How could you have let him go?”

  “He went after him,” Neel said. “But he couldn’t catch up.”

  The General snorted. “I find that hard to believe.” He looked down at both Trak and Honor with no emotion in his eyes.

  Misson pushed his way into the circle and knelt by Trak. “What happened?” Misson said in Pestlan.

  “Vashtan magicians tried to kill Trak, but Honor was in the way.” Neel said.

  “I managed to put a hasty shield.” Tembul knelt down beside them. “Not much, but, hopefully, it saved her life.”

  “We will take her to my house in Estia and let her recover there.”

  Valanna put her hand on her hips. “If there is anything left of it?”

  “Good point,” Misson said. “I’ve reports that the house where I let her stay when Trak was with me is definitely intact. We can use that, if we need to.”

  “I’ll protect her,” Rasia said.

  The General huffed a bit, and then left them.

  Misson stood along with Trak, while Rasia put something under Honor’s head and covered her body with a bedroll blanket. He took Trak aside. “It’s time for you to go somewhere else. Adolphus doesn’t trust you. It’s really more like he is afraid of you. The rebels lost their motivation to fight when you defeated Riotro and it didn’t sit well with him. The General didn’t believe that you could do it. Even though he was victorious, it’s a hollow victory for him. Knowing Adolphus, he’ll be making more trouble for you, if you follow us to Espozia.”

  Trak shook his head. Back to exile and there were no deeds noble enough for him to prevent people from hating him. “I’ll go tomorrow. Neel thought something like this might happen.”

  Tembul had been standing in listening range and walked up. “Neel, Sirul, Trak, and myself. Can we have some supplies before we go?”

  Misson nodded his head. “Certainly.” He looked at Trak. “I’m sorry. I looked forward to giving you more fencing lessons.” He gave Trak a rueful grin. “I have a chance at you with a blade, but not at magic.”

  Trak managed a smile. “I wish things were different as well.” He looked over at Valanna, rubbing Honor’s hand. His aunt didn’t look very well.

  He found his sword and returned to Honor. A healer showed up, and after checking on her, began to treat Trak’s many small wounds. Now that the heat of battle had passed, Trak felt like he had rolled down a rock-strewn slope. Every muscle ached, and his myriad of small cuts and bruises began to hurt.

  “If you can keep her here without moving for a day or two, that would be best,” the man said. “Put up a tent around her. She needs a lot of rest at this point. I’ve done what I can for the burn on her back.” He put all his supplies back in the large back that he carried around, and walked off to treat other wounds suffered that day.

  Asem joined them with Sirul and Ben as the sun was about to set. The magicians’ bodies had been removed and they now were the sole occupants of a field about one hundred paces in diameter.

  Trak sat on the edge of one of the three flyers while Asem sat down next to him.

  “So you are off to Bennin, I suppose?”

  Trak nodded his head. “I have no choice, it seems.”

  Asem made a scoffing sound. “We always have a choice, but there are the obvious ones, and that is the right choice, I agree. You know, we are still enemies, of a sort.”

  “Of a sort,” Trak said. “It’s hard for me to look at you that way.” He thought of a real enemy, General Niamo, and thought of Valanna. “Is Valanna an enemy, too?”

  “Maybe at some point, but not now,” Asem said. “We leave tomorrow as well. You go to the mysterious city of Kizru, and we will go south to Nikia and take a ship to Warish. There is a port at the mouth of the Pusuun River, Amorim. I suppose we can stay there for a few weeks. I have business there and would like to know what has happened in Balbaam before I set foot in the Warish capital. If you are headed to Bennin, you will probably have to find a ship in Amorim to take you there. That’s how it is usually done. See if you can find us when you arrive. Most people in Amorim know where I live. I imagine we might be able to cross paths again while we are still friends, eh?” He patted Trak on the shoulder.

  Trak looked over at Valanna talking to Kulara by their campfire. “I will.” He couldn’t help but sigh. His opportunity to know her better had come and gone. What had he accomplished? Not much.

  He knew she still attracted him, despite her change in character. He actually thought it made her a more substantial woman, rather than the princess image he had developed in his mind. Maybe they could spend a bit of time together before she left.

  “I have something for Valanna,” Trak said. He rummaged around in his bag and pulled out a thick notebook. “I’d like Valanna to have this. These are the notes to the basic Colcan poses. Don’t lose the insert inside, since it is the key to deciphering the power words.”

  “But this is yours,” Asem said. “How can you continue to use your magic? This is too valuable to give to an enemy.”

  Trak laughed. “I have the poses and power words memorized. Anyway, Valanna is not my enemy. I don’t know if I’ll make it to Amorim on time or not, but I want her to have something of mine that carries value, and I’m afraid this is all I have.”

  Asem cleared his throat. “Why give it to me?”

  Trak shook his head. “I don’t think I can present it to her properly.” He had struggled to get the words out as it was and gazed over to Valanna.

  “I understand. Go ahead and say something to her, anyway. She would like to talk to you before you go tomorrow, but don’t tell her I said that. It seems that Valanna has learned a bit of prickliness from my ever-lovely second wife.” Asem rose and dusted off his pants. He took the portfolio from Trak and left him sitting on the flyer.

  He glanced over at Valanna, and their eyes met. She rose and walked over to him.

  “Another impressive display of your power, today,” she said. Her smile was tight, as if she held her emotions in. She held her hands together on her lap.

  “I’d give it up in an instant, if it meant Honor didn’t have to suffer.”

  She nodded and examined her hands. “I agree, but we did what we had to do.”

  It was Trak’s turn to nod. He felt rather uncomfortable talking to her after his conversation with Asem. “I’m leaving first thing tomorrow morning. I enjoyed most of the time we spent together during this war, especially the talking while we traveled with Neel.”

  Valanna laughed and looked away. Perhaps she felt as uncomfortable as he did, at the moment. “He did give us plenty of time to do that, didn’t he?”

  Trak nodded again and felt like a fool for doing so. “I guess the times in Pestledown will never really return.” He said that off the top of his head and realized that he really meant it.

  “We are two different people, I think, me more than you, Trak. Asem seems to think that there are many more changes in store.”

  Trak started to nod, but stopped. “There are times when I wish things could just remain that way, yet as I think about it, I had some memorable experiences, but not many that we shared. I wish we could be together under less stressful circumstances.”

  Valanna hummed her agreement. “Good times in the future, then? We will see. Asem seemed to be very upset when I showed him the Vashtan
bodies. He thinks they might be behind all of this.”

  Trak sighed. “They are, at a minimum, Riotro’s allies. My learning never quite made Vashta an area of emphasis. I don’t know if I’ll have the chance to learn anything about them in the near future. Bennin is on the other side of the world.”

  “I learned today how Vashtans look, and you will learn soon enough what the Benninese are like,” Valanna said. “The Vashtans are the people who pushed Misson and Ben’s ancestors out of their continent and onto this one.” She shrugged. “Now you know as much as I do.”

  “Right,” Trak said.

  The pair sat in an awkward silence. Trak tried to get up the courage to tell her about the gift of his portfolio, when a horse and cart drew up beside the camp, ending the uncomfortable pause.

  Valanna impulsively kissed Trak and the cheek and then jumped up. “Nullia!”

  Trak looked up and saw Nullia struggling to stand up. Sandy Pillora restrained her.

  “Stay down. You’ve been battered enough riding in the back of this thing,” Sandy said.

  By the time he settled Nullia down, Trak and Valanna stood by the side of the wagon.

  “I, for one, am glad this rebellion is about over,” Nullia said, looking at Trak. “I heard about your duel. It will be legendary.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Trak said. “I didn’t quite defeat him.”

  “Cutting off both his feet is an extreme way to avoid total victory, don’t you think?” Nullia said.

  “I didn’t want him to practice magic anymore,” Trak said.

  “He’ll find a way,” Nullia said. “But you’ve slowed him down and stopped this dreadful civil war. Thanks to you there will be more wives than widows.” That comment made Trak feel good. “Where is Honor?” Nullia said, looking around. That comment made Trak feel awful.

  “Over here,” Honor said in a weak voice.

  Trak looked at the opening in the tent that had been erected over her. She lay on her stomach with dressings over her burned back.

  Trak helped Sandy take Nullia off the wagon and over to Honor’s tent.