“Stop!” he said, halting her from filling his glass and preventing Jack from taking a sip.
“Where did you get that bottle of wine?” he asked the young woman, scrutinizing her colors carefully, yet finding no guile or malice, only a timid desire to please … or perhaps to go unnoticed.
“Mayor Humphrey’s assistant, My Lord,” she said, a tremor in her voice. “He said it was specially for you—the best we have. Is it not to your liking? I can get another bottle if you wish.” A hint of fear rippled through her colors.
“You’ve done nothing wrong,” Alexander said. “Where’s Humphrey’s assistant now?”
“He was in the preparation tent,” she said, pointing to a large tent set off to the side of the town square.
“Leave the bottle and go about your duties,” Alexander said.
She curtsied awkwardly and hurried off.
“What’s wrong?” Jack asked, leaning to look past Anja.
“The wine’s been poisoned,” Alexander said quietly. “It seems that Humphrey may be a better liar than I gave him credit for.”
“He hasn’t spoken with his assistant today,” Chloe said in his mind. “I was with him every moment since he left you.”
“Huh,” Alexander said, frowning.
“Perhaps his assistant has other allegiances,” Jack said.
“Allegiances or not, he just died and he doesn’t even know it yet,” Anja said, starting to stand up. Alexander stopped her with a hand on her arm.
He sent his vision into the preparation tent and found Humphrey’s assistant peeking out of a tent flap, watching to see if Alexander was drinking his wine. He was a thoroughly ordinary-looking man with virtually no distinguishing features. The kind of man you forgot the moment you saw him, yet a closer look at his colors revealed cunning and intelligence—a perfect spy.
Alexander picked up LaChance’s empty goblet and pretended to take a long drink, all the while watching the man who was watching him. The spy smiled with satisfaction and slipped out the far door of the tent.
“Follow him, Little One.”
She flitted off through the aether, invisible to all.
“Who do you think he’s working for?” Jack asked.
“Probably Grant, but it’s hard to say,” Alexander said. “Where’s Humphrey?”
“Coordinating the service,” LaChance said. “Do you want me to send for him?”
Alexander nodded.
Appetizers arrived a few moments before Humphrey did.
“Is something wrong?” he asked. “None of you have touched your food.”
“Tell me about your assistant,” Alexander said.
Humphrey frowned with a shrug. “I actually haven’t seen him since I sent him to prepare your quarters at our first meeting. I assumed that Commander LaChance had reassigned him.”
“How long have you known him?”
“Not long,” Humphrey said. “He offered me his services as soon as I was elected mayor. He has always been quite helpful.”
“Thank you,” Alexander said. “If you see him, tell him I’d like to thank him in person for the very fine wine that he chose for me and my friends.”
“Yes, of course, Lord Reishi. Will there be anything else?”
“No, thank you,” Alexander said
Humphrey left with an awkward bow.
“I know that look,” Jack said.
“I need a distraction,” Alexander said.
“Big or small?” Jack said with a broad smile.
“I just need a few seconds, maybe half a minute without anyone looking this way.”
“I think I can manage that,” Jack said, pushing away from the table.
“What’s he going to do?” Anja asked.
“Probably sing,” Alexander said.
And sing he did. After working his way around to the far end of the square, Jack stepped up on a table and, without warning, began singing a traditional Andalian war ballad. It didn’t take long before all eyes were on him.
“Everyone stay here,” Alexander said, opening his Wizard’s Den behind his chair, the door facing away from the banquet. He slipped inside and trotted to his magic circle, transitioning into the firmament in moments, then projecting an illusion of himself at the banquet table, while simultaneously covering the door to his Wizard’s Den with a curtain of illusion. It took some effort but not more than he could muster.
“What are you doing?” Anja asked.
“Laying a trap,” he said with a smile before starting to choke, interrupting Jack’s song as he stood frantically, hands around his throat, toppling over and thrashing around on the ground. Lita rushed to his side, pretending to minister to him while the crowd looked on in shock, confusion, and growing horror as his thrashing gradually subsided and his body went still.
LaChance started snapping orders to his Rangers who quickly began to secure the area.
“Carry me to a tent,” he whispered to Lita without moving his mouth.
“Help me get him into a tent,” Lita snapped. “I need light and a clean space to work.”
LaChance didn’t hesitate, pointing to the two nearest Rangers who frowned with alarm when they tried to grab Alexander’s illusion.
“Play along,” Lita whispered urgently.
With looks of confusion, the Rangers pretended to carry a body that looked like it was there but really wasn’t. Jataan followed, a spear suddenly in hand. Anja had her broadsword out as she scanned the crowd with a look of pure fury while Jack raced to the tent to offer whatever aid he could, making a show of his passing through the crowd. Once the Rangers had formed a cordon around the tent, Jataan and Anja went inside.
“Now what?” Anja asked.
Alexander was standing in the middle of the tent, the two Rangers who had ‘carried’ him inside looking even more confused than before.
“You wait, while I watch,” he said, vanishing from sight and floating above the town square.
People milled about, talking in small groups and openly speculating about what had happened. Some seemed fearful that Alexander had been killed. Of those, some worried that his death would bring the wrath of his allies while others feared that it would leave them open to reprisals from the Andalians. A few voiced hope that his death would mean the end of war and a return to the relative comfort and safety of their lives prior to his arrival on Andalia. The only point of consensus was a general sense of disappointment that the feast had been ruined.
New faces began to join the milling crowd, men slowly filtering in from the surrounding forest, all of them slipping into the town square alone but all of them focused on Alexander’s tent. He floated higher until he found a cluster of men in the forest. They were silent, and though the forest was dark as pitch, they didn’t have a fire or even a lantern. With a thought, he was in their midst, scanning the faces of men hardened by battle. One had the colors of a wizard. Alexander moved closer and found Wizard Edric sitting on a log next to Tyr. The would-be king of his namesake isle was rocking slightly, anxiety, impatience, and rage rippling through his colors as if a war between fear and lust were being waged within his mind. Humphrey’s assistant sat nearby.
Alexander returned to town, reappearing inside the tent.
“About two dozen men are infiltrating the crowd. Another fifty are waiting just outside of town.”
“Who do they serve?” Jataan asked.
“Tyr,” Alexander said, turning to LaChance. “Quietly inform your men of the threat. Have those in the square remain on guard and have the rest of your detachment quietly surround the square. Once they’re in place, announce that I’ve been killed and that the feast is canceled. We need to clear the area before the fighting starts.”
He faded out of sight, floating above the square.
LaChance conferred with the two Rangers in the tent for a moment, then they slipped out to pass the message along. After about ten minutes, LaChance went outside and announced Alexander’s death. A mixture of surprised gasps
and a smattering of cheers rose from the crowd followed by a whistler arrow shrieking into the sky.
The enemy soldiers drew weapons and began moving toward the tent from all sides, lashing out at any of the townspeople who were unfortunate enough to be in their way. Within seconds, the Rangers found themselves in a pitched battle, fighting for their lives while trying to avoid harming the panicked crowd.
Alexander snapped back to his body, reminding himself that no plan ever survives contact with the enemy. He drew the Thinblade and took up Luminessence. The door of the Wizard’s Den closed behind him with a thought and the evening shadows vanished under the brilliance of his light. The enemy faltered, shielding their eyes, many in the crowd falling to the ground to escape the blinding brilliance, while others stood stock-still, seemingly mesmerized, yet unaffected by the sheer radiance of the light.
The Rangers loosed a volley of arrows into the dazzled enemies, killing almost half. Jataan and Anja were the first to emerge from the tent, weapons drawn. The remaining enemy were easily subdued, disarmed and rounded up at sword point. All were still too dazzled to fight back. While Jataan was unfazed by the sudden defeat of the enemy, Anja looked disappointed. More Rangers began filing into the square, quickly establishing control of the frightened crowd.
With a gesture, Alexander summoned Jataan to him, opening his Wizard’s Den once again and going to his magic circle, while the commander stood guard at the entrance. He slipped back into the firmament and went to the dark and quiet camp and found Tyr and his men moving toward town.
“We don’t have much time,” he said, emerging from his Wizard’s Den. “Another fifty men will be here soon.”
LaChance trotted up. “We have nine prisoners and fifteen enemy dead. I lost six Rangers, five more are wounded and twelve innocents were killed.”
Alexander nodded with a sigh, only briefly second-guessing his decision, wondering to himself what he might have done differently. His thoughts were interrupted by the roar of a pair of wyverns overhead. His message riders had arrived, later than expected, but just in time to be of use.
He raised his light, softly illuminating the square. “Clear the area,” he commanded, motioning for the Sky Knights to land. They came down gently, sending a swirl of sparks into the sky from the cook fires.
“Sky Knights Ratagan and Horst reporting as ordered, Lord Reishi,” the lead man said.
“Good timing,” Alexander said. “Lita, attend to the wounded. LaChance, I need twenty Rangers. Assign another six to assist Lita and prepare the rest of your men to defend the town against an attack from the south. We face fifty men and a wizard.”
When the twenty Rangers arrived, Alexander sent them into his Wizard’s Den along with Jataan, Jack, and Anja. Once all were inside, he closed the door without a word of explanation and mounted up behind Ratagan, quickly tying himself into place.
“Fly south.”
Ratagan nodded curtly and launched into the sky, acceleration crushing Alexander into the saddle. Within minutes he saw the enemy moving along the top of a spur toward town, carrying torches, making no attempt to hide their position.
Alexander picked out a clear patch behind them and pointed it out to Ratagan. With a slap on the neck and a gentle tug on the reins, his wyvern banked into a steep dive, descending a bit more quickly than Alexander would have liked, then slowed abruptly with a powerful downward thrust and landed hard.
“Well done. Harass them from the air but don’t get too close—they have a wizard,” he said, sliding to the ground and opening his Wizard’s Den with a thought.
Ratagan saluted and launched into the air, sending dust swirling around the Rangers filing out of the Wizard’s Den.
“Keep silent,” Alexander said, leading the way toward the enemy.
Ratagan and Horst made a pass, tossing javelins into the enemy’s midst, killing two without warning. Tyr’s men scattered, looking for cover from the surprise attack. Alexander began trotting toward them, trying to balance stealth with speed and hoping that the Sky Knights’ attack would provide a sufficient distraction.
Five shards of blue force streaked up toward the Sky Knights but they had sufficient altitude to roll out of the way unscathed. Tyr’s frustrated curse drifted through the late evening air. All eyes were turned skyward when Alexander’s troops moved within arrow range.
“Form up,” he commanded.
Twenty Rangers lined up, bows in hand, arrows nocked.
Alexander looked to both sides, ensuring that all of his men were ready before raising his staff and flooding the world with light, pure and bright. The Rangers loosed their first volley a moment later and fired a second before the first arrows had reached their targets.
Tyr and his pirates were caught by surprise, dazzled by the light and completely defenseless against the deadly rain falling into their midst. Cries of warning gave way to screams of pain. Four volleys ripped through the enemy ranks before Tyr’s wizard erected a shield wall, fifteen feet high and fifty feet wide. Alexander sent his sight forward to inspect the damage. Tyr’s force of fifty men had been reduced to less than ten, all of them huddled behind the magical blue wall, fear coursing through their colors.
“Move to engage,” Alexander commanded, dimming his light to a level of brightness that required almost no effort or concentration. With a gesture, he sent half of his Rangers with Jataan to the right of the wall, while he led the rest of his people to the left.
As each unit neared their respective edge of the shield, it vanished and the remaining enemy fired crossbow bolts at Alexander and his people. Several Rangers fell. Alexander took a hit to the chest but his armor saved him.
Anja shouted in rage when a bolt glanced off her left shoulder, slicing shallowly but painfully across her upper arm. She charged with a guttural snarl, her broadsword held high. Alexander and his Rangers followed close behind as both units collapsed in toward the enemy. Anja hacked the first man she came to, nearly cleaving him from shoulder to hip. She shook the fresh corpse off her oversized blade just as Wizard Edric unleashed a jet of fire at her. Like an arrow, it streaked in a straight line from his hands and struck her full in the chest, fire hot enough to transform a man’s flesh into char. The spell roared, crackling and casting an angry orange glow onto the nearby trees. The force of it blew Anja backward and onto the ground before the spell ran its course.
Alexander felt a thrill of panic, followed almost instantly by cold rage. He slipped Demonrend from its sheath and threw the blade with all his strength at Edric—and it flew true, tumbling through the night and hitting him square in the chest.
Before he could reach her, Anja had regained her feet, the front of her tunic and shirt burned almost completely away. She was so caught up in her battle lust and fury that she didn’t even see Alexander racing to her side.
“I’m a dragon!” she shouted to the dying wizard, cleaving a nearby man’s leg off almost as if swatting away a mosquito while stalking toward the shocked Wizard Edric, now on his knees. “I was born of fire!”
She reached him and took his head with a stroke. Jataan arrived a moment later, the Rangers looking at him with a mixture of respect and fear. The few bandits who’d survived the onslaught had fled into the forest the moment the shield wall failed.
Alexander retrieved Demonrend and cleaned the blade, looking for Tyr among the fallen, but finding only his henchmen. He opened his Wizard’s Den and turned to Anja.
“Go get changed,” he said. “Your clothes are ruined.”
She looked down at her bare scorched chest and then back to the men standing around trying not to look at her. She flushed slightly before hurrying to cover herself.
Jack appeared nearby, nodding his approval at the carnage littering the hillside.
“All things considered, today has been a pretty good day,” he said. “The Royal Assassin dead, Grant turned to your purpose, and Tyr running like a dog. Nice of them to show up here.”
“I should have known they’d
all look for me here,” Alexander said.
“Well, it is the only scrap of dirt on this entire isle that you control right now,” Jack said.
“If I’d have given it a moment’s thought, we’d have stopped on some out-of-the-way beach to rest and feed the wyverns before being on our way to Kai’Gorn.”
“And your enemies would have been stronger for it,” Anja said, emerging from the Wizard’s Den wearing one of Alexander’s tunics.
The sergeant in command of the Ranger platoon approached.
“The area is secure. I have four dead and five more wounded, two grievously.”
“Get your wounded into the Wizard’s Den,” Alexander said, raising his light and signaling Ratagan to land nearby. Within two minutes they were in the air, heading back to town. Ratagan and Horst landed in the square, sending townsfolk scattering in fear of further attacks and leaving them in hushed awe of the wyverns. Alexander dismounted and looked back up at the Sky Knights with a smile of thanks.
“Kiera has an aerie set up about five hundred yards to the east. Tend to your wyverns.”
Ratagan and Horst saluted and launched into the sky.
LaChance approached as Alexander opened his Wizard’s Den and Rangers began carrying their dead and wounded. He directed them to the tent Lita had commandeered to treat the injured.
“Considering that the enemy never made it to our line, I take it they’ve been dispatched.”
“All but a handful,” Alexander said. “Unfortunately, Tyr escaped.”
“That’s a pity,” LaChance said. “I’ll put together a hunting party. He won’t get far on foot.”
Alexander nodded approvingly, scanning the town square and seeing a few of the dead still scattered where they’d fallen. People were gathered in the shadows as if waiting for something. Fear and anger clouded their colors. Many held tools: woodsmen’s axes, pitchforks and the like. Others held torches. A man pushed through the crowd carrying the body of a young girl, no more than ten. Tears streaked his face. He approached Alexander with the defiance of a man who believed he had nothing left to lose. He didn’t seem to notice when Anja stepped up next to Alexander and drew her sword.
Sovereign of the Seven Isles 7: Reishi Adept Page 7