Blademage Adept (The Blademage Saga Book 3)

by Chris Hollaway

  The column began moving as the remaining Elven Hunter and the rest of Carlo’s soldiers shuffled into place at the rear.

  “Not too much further,” Kevon commented, craning his neck to capture all of the circling Riders in his field of vision. “The center of their formation is just…”

  One of the Riders cut toward the middle, diving. Two others followed in rapid succession, three keeping position in the slow circle.

  “They’ve spotted something,” Carlo called from the front. “Looks like they have it pinned down, they’re not backing off.” He remarked after a few more minutes of marching.

  The lower three Riders flew in a braided pattern, routes twining over and through each other, taking turns swooping lower in the center to rush the unseen target ahead.

  “Ten more minutes,” Carlo remarked. “Eight if we hurry.”

  Rowyn shook his head. “Journeying to battle, keep a pace that refreshes. The Riders are spending arrows, not blood.”

  Kevon let his muscles relax, slipping into the gait that had carried him around the North Valley for most of his life, before he’d been a Warsmith, or even a Mage. He focused on the stiffness and tension in each limb, intentionally unclenching knots in specific muscles as he walked. Loosened up, he focused on his magic, nearly replenished from the earlier engagement. “You doing all right?” he asked Jacek.

  “I’d rather be at banquet in the castle,” the Court-Wizard admitted, “Aside from that, things are lovely.”

  “I’d settle for a clean bedroll and a mug of something other than chimaera tea,” Kevon countered. “But facing a Dark portal is something so far beyond…”

  “We’ll handle it,” Jacek’s expression sobered. “We have to. Life up here is harsh enough without this meddling.”

  “Imagine the allies they could be, once the balance is restored.” Kevon sighed. “We mustn’t fail.”

  “The nest is just ahead,” Alanna advised, touching Kevon on the shoulder. “We’re to fall back, let them secure the passageway.”

  “Form up!” Rowyn called from ahead, and the Striders doubled their pace, as the elves and crossbowmen slowed to surround Alanna and the Magi. “The entrance is clear. Torches!”

  “They don’t waste a moment,” Jacek commented as Carlo and Rowyn led the charge down into the depths of the nest.

  “You’ll want to see this,” one of the Striders chuckled, leading a trio of his companions back out of the nest’s entrance. “The Commander needs both of you, now.”

  Jacek formed a globe of light as he followed Kevon into the cave entrance, pushing it ahead and to the side.

  “Further down,” another Strider pointed the Magi past the branch he stood in, a nesting room with dozens of broken eggs and two chimaera corpses that were visible from the main passage.

  Kevon’s stomach turned as the light dimmed and the hint of dark magic increased enough to taint all of his senses.

  “No…” Jacek decided. “I don’t think I want to know what’s down here.” The Mage slowed, face ashen in the distorted light.

  “There,” Kevon pointed around the bend in the tunnel. “It’s just ahead. Think of the tale it will be when you return to Court.”

  A few more halting steps, and Jacek peered to where Kevon had indicated. “Not a tale for the banquet hall, is it?”

  “For the Throne room, and deserving ears only,” Kevon whispered. “After this, Alacrit would be a fool not having you as counsel.”

  The Court-Mage took a deep breath, and stood taller as he rounded the bend, stepping over the tail of a fallen chimaera. “How did you destroy the other one?”

  “We had an Orclord punch it,” Kevon laughed. “If you have suggestions for this time, I’d like to hear them.”

  “How did the portal react?”

  “It expanded. The magic that was stored in the Enchantment fed into the portal, and something horrible tried to come through, tried using me to make it happen.” Kevon shuddered at the memory of the violation of his mind. He could still remember the grotesque features he’d seen through the portal, feel the malevolence focused on him before the doorway had closed.

  “A sustained Enchantment like that would have tremendous amounts of stored magic to keep it active,” Jacek mused. “Releasing it all at once…”

  “I’d prefer we didn’t,” Kevon sighed. “Any ideas?”

  “If we don’t want to break it, why don’t we just bury it?” Jacek suggested. “Block the passageway so nothing can get in or out.”

  Of course, Kevon thought. All the time on the ocean, the odd feel of Wind magic, the twisted darkness here. I can barely feel the Earth magic over the distractions. “I should have thought of that,” he admitted. “If we can clear the area, we should be able to…” He trailed off as he noticed only Carlo and one of Rowyn’s Striders flanking the portal. “Where is…?”

  “Rowyn took three Striders and went further down,” Carlo scowled in the flickering light of the torch the other Strider held. “We’ve repelled two chimaera from the portal since he left.”

  “We’re going to seal the whole place up,” Kevon explained, “but we need to be sure there is no other exit before we do.”

  A lightning-fast tendril of darkness flashed out of the murky arch, revealing itself as a chimaera’s tail only as the fangs whistled through the air by Carlo’s arm.

  The Strider lifted his torch over his head, close to the ceiling of the cave. He whipped his shortsword after the errant tentacle, slicing halfway through before it slid back into the nothingness.

  “There are more through there,” Carlo shrugged. “We’ll hold here. Go after Rowyn, maybe you can seal both directions off after you retrieve him.”

  Jacek edged along the cave wall furthest from the portal, speeding up as Kevon crossed in front to lead further down the tunnel. “I’d not have thought there would be such structures down here,” the Court-Mage whispered as the passage opened to a cavern many times the size of the previous chamber.

  “It’s been designed,” Kevon grumbled, pointing to three exits spaced around the twisted room, all identical in size and shape.

  A glimmer of torch-light winked from one of the tunnels ahead. Kevon hurried across the refuse-littered floor to where he could see further down the occupied passageway. “Rowyn!” he hissed.

  A tangled murmur of voices jounced closer, flares of light increasing as the others approached.

  “This route is cleared,” Rowyn announced as he strode into view. “We’ll patrol the other two next.”

  “Not needed,” Kevon corrected. “Cover our retreat to the portal, we’ll close this end off when we seal the tunnel.”

  “And if there are other exits from here?” Rowyn asked as they reemerged into the lower cavern.

  “You can handle it later,” Kevon sighed. “This cave system will no longer be fed by the portal, the chimaera population should return to normal levels.”

  “As you advise,” Rowyn directed the Striders with a brief gesture, and they spread out behind, following their leader and the two Magi back toward the surface.

  Kevon staggered from the press of Earth magic that was beginning to push through the partitioned Wind magic that had been crowding his mind for days, then continued the upward climb.

  “Any more trouble?” Kevon asked as they reached the portal chamber.

  “Not much,” the Strider waiting with Carlo answered before tightening a strip of torn cloth around his left shoulder, using his right hand and his teeth. “We could use one of these back at the village for training.”

  “The very existence of this portal shifts the balance of…” Kevon stopped. “Of course, you’re joking.” He stepped closer to the portal, guiding Jacek before him. “If you could stand clear of the lower tunnel…”

  The last two Striders walked past, poking at their comrade’s bandage and laughing as they went.

  “Be ready,” Kevon said to no one in particular, and grasped at the power that surrounded him. He felt Jac
ek’s spell coalesce nearby, and did his best to mirror the other Mage’s construct.

  Spikes of stone from every direction screeched out of the tunnel entrance walls, merging and splaying in the center of the passageway. The overlapping protrusions thickened to diameters of a foot or more. The brittle tips shattered on the opposite ends of the tunnel, but the intact bases left a dense barrier that looked formidable.

  “That should hold,” Kevon shrugged as he pushed back to release the spell. “I’ll start the other one.”

  “Retreat,” Carlo chuckled. “The Magi are covering our escape.”

  Kevon frowned at the sarcasm as Carlo walked into the upper tunnel, keeping one eye on the portal, and another on the two Mages.

  “Back up,” Kevon admonished, shooing the armored Striders further up the cramped tunnel. “Back up!”

  Carlo remained ahead of Kevon and Jacek, the last line of defense against a possible incursion.

  “Beginning now,” Kevon advised, dropping the safeguards he’d built to protect against the increasing Earth magic he’d started to feel. Reaching down into the massive reserve of earth and stone beneath them, Kevon latched onto a buried boulder. He cajoled it upward with his Art, spinning it around solid formations through the looser packed sediment. He ignored Jacek’s offered assistance, tightening his focus on his own spell. “Here it is.”

  Dust and sand erupted from the earthen patch ahead of them, as the boulder rose into the tunnel. The spinning stone lurched forward, bouncing on tunnel walls twice before lodging itself in the mouth of the entrance to the portal chamber. Kevon ended his spell as Jacek funneled more debris from the broken passageway floor to pack around the obstructing boulder.

  “Enough,” Carlo turned and waved the Magi to a stop. “Let’s get out of this tomb.”

  Chapter 40

  Kevon blinked at the morning sun, eyelids crusted with the unfamiliar residue of a full night’s sleep.

  “There are almost too many of us,” Carlo had laughed the evening before, after the whole of the raiding party had converged on the purged nest. “I’ll leave it to each of the other Commanders to work out their schedules, but anyone committed to the retaking of the camp tomorrow will not stand watch tonight.”

  “This place has been a crucible of violence for generations,” Jacek commented. “The least of the Striders could be a Watch Commander in Navlia. I hope the relief we bring them is not a disservice.”

  Those words echoed through Kevon’s mind as he rose and moved to where the support crew had breakfast ready. Stringy roasted tubers and tea were all he could stomach.

  “Two hours march,” Rowyn mused. “And we shall have our retribution.” He finished off his second mug of tea. “If you’ll excuse me,” the Strider handed his empty mug to a nearby Meek, and began barking orders at his men.

  “He thinks the fall of Cliffside Camp was his fault,” Ashera sighed, pouring the dregs of her own cup out onto the ground. “If they had held that day instead of retreating…” She shook her head. “Their numbers were so unnatural, we know now it was the Portals. If he’d stayed to fight that day, he’d have died the next, and our hope of continued survival with him.”

  “Born with a blade in his hand, that one,” Carlo agreed. “If swordplay is my art, it’s his breath. He and his men are a sight to behold. The real beauty of it though, is that he’s not had to take up arms against men.” The Blademaster grimaced. “I envy him that.”

  Ashera nodded, her eyes straying to the western sky. “My scouts return. I’ll report back soon.”

  “Bya, bya, bya…” the Stoneguard shook his head, stood, and ambled to the edge of camp.

  “He’s bored with yer talk,” Kylgren-Wode shrugged. “Fer once, I agree with the brute.”

  “Training entire lives under the mountains, for this.” Carlo chuckled. “I’ll wager your people on the frontier have pushed the orcs back further than our troops can run supply lines.”

  The nearby grouping of stones, twigs, and tied grasses caught Kevon’s eye.

  “That wasn’t here last night,” he commented, moving closer to view the arrangement. “Is this a map of the camp?”

  “As they left it, yes,” Carlo nodded. “The rocks are the solid structures, more likely to have survived the occupation. Breaks in the surrounding wall in at least these three places.” The Blademaster pointed to the groupings of twigs. “These are the places we expect them to be the thickest. Buildings with large entrances. The town hall and smithy. We’ll drive them there with aerial attacks from Ashera’s Riders.”

  “Sooner than later,” Ashera chuckled, rejoining the group. “Three chimaera hunting parties left earlier, two headed west, and the other is fifteen minutes from us. Only five strong, it’ll get the blood flowing, at least.”

  “Here,” Kevon pointed at one of the breaks in the wall. “There is not much open space between this opening and one of the larger shelters. We can use surprise to gain the advantage.”

  Carlo squinted at the layout. “Mmm. Could work.”

  “The town hall is on the north end,” Ashera clarified. “My Riders and I will attack and distract from the south.”

  * * *

  “Anyone?” Rowyn whispered, grinning.

  “Not if you’re counting the three you got this morning,” Carlo hissed.

  Kylgren-Wode and the Stoneguard argued quietly for a moment.

  “He didn’t know ye were keeping tally,” the ambassador explained. “He was trying te be polite, and share.”

  Kevon groaned under his breath.

  “So, the three of us?” Rowyn’s eyes glinted mischievously. “Losers pack the winner’s burden on the return trip.”

  “He’s starting a rock collection,” Kylgren-Wode translated the threat as the Stoneguard muffled his laughter with a mailed fist.

  “There’s the signal,” Rowyn announced, standing and stepping clear of the grass that still concealed the rest of the attack force. “They’re all pinned down, eyes to the south. It’s time.”

  The fifty yards from cover to the wall passed in a half-minute of muted rustling in the short grass, peppered with chuckles from the Stoneguard as he picked up a handful of small, jagged rocks on the way.

  Seeing Kylgren-Wode’s glare of disapproval, the dwarf opened his hand, and the stones pattered to the dirt. “Meh.” He readied his axe, and began taking deep breaths, eyes closing to slits.

  “Ready?” Carlo asked, but Rowyn was already leaping through the gap in the wall, a pair of his Striders close behind. He bit down on the curse that came to his lips, and followed, the dwarves at his heels.

  Alanna and Anneliese hopped through, stationing themselves to either side of the gap, weapons drawn, scanning for stray enemies.

  Kevon glanced down to where the other group was squeezing through a smaller entrance. The last of the Striders was slipping out of view. “Just us, then,” he told Jacek, and stepped into Cliffside Camp.

  Carlo, Rowyn, and the dwarves were already sliding along the side of the town hall, the Striders staying further clear of the building, following the worn path that meandered further into town.

  Beginning to step off the path to follow Carlo, Kevon wobbled as his foot almost crunched down on a sun-bleached bone. He shifted, throwing an elbow to rebalance, maneuvering his foot back onto the path. He pointed to the bone, then put a finger to his lips in a shushing motion, looking over his shoulder toward Jacek and the girls.

  Alanna pulled her eyepatch free, slipped it into a pocket, and blinked as she adjusted to the change in vision. She nodded, and Kevon continued down the path after the Striders.

  Kevon and the others were midway down the side of the building when Rowyn reached the front corner and peered around it. He motioned for the Striders, now only a little ahead of Kevon, to leave the path and follow him around the front of the town hall. Rowyn, Carlo, Kylgren-Wode, and the Stoneguard slid around the corner, out of sight.

  The wind shifted.

  Kevon’s head
whipped around at Alanna’s sharp intake of breath. She was staring at the wall of the building beside them, eyes glistening and unfocused.

  “They can smell us,” she whispered, “Go.” Her voice rose as she pointed to where the others had disappeared. “Now.”

  Kevon and Jacek sprinted in the direction she indicated, bones and weeds crunching and rustling beneath their headlong rush.

  Anneliese’s long-legged stride devoured the distance as she barreled past where the Striders had departed the path, drawn bow tracking around the corner.

  Kevon’s last glimpse of Alanna as he rounded the corner was drawn knives, closed eyes, and the smile she’d affected lately that seemed to belong to Marelle as much as her assassin alter-ego.

  Fire and Control runes leapt to the forefront of Kevon’s mind, shimmering in and out of focus. Lacking power and a target, the glimmering mental constructs were almost more distraction than comfort.

  Stepping away from the building into the bone-strewn grasses, Kevon looked around the Striders to where Carlo, Rowyn, and the dwarves edged toward the gaping hole in the wall that the chimaera had torn open around the building’s previous doorway.

  Rowyn’s head tilted, as if he’d heard a strange noise. Carlo spun away from the wall, words of warning forming on his tongue.

  Planks buckled and cracked as a section of wall failed to resist the charging chimaera on the other side of it. Two upright beams snapped in quick succession, and a slab of wall five feet across slammed into Rowyn’s right shoulder. He wobbled two steps, brushing aside a large splinter that had managed to lodge between the riveted plates in his armor.

  An instant later, the chimaera was through the breach, its weight slapping the ruptured wall down flat on Rowyn’s greatsword with an ominous thunk.

  Rowyn dropped and rolled backward. He kicked upward with both feet, planting them in the creature’s abdomen as the beast’s curled horns slammed the dirt a foot past his own head. The Strider stretched the kick as far as he dared, the extra force unbalancing the chimaera. He arched his back and let the force from the kick’s recoil roll him back to his feet. He whirled, drawing his shortswords, as the chimaera roared and twisted upright.