Warlords Rising

by Honor Raconteur

  “Calling Nolan,” Garth informed him in a tone that brooked no disagreement.

  His shoulders must look pretty bad to get that reaction from his dragon. “I’m alright for a few minutes, make sure he’s not in a serious situation first.”

  The dragon let out a huff that said the serious situation, if there was one, could wait.

  “Tell Becca and Commander Danyal to start the attack at main gate. I’m sorry,” Trev’nor whispered to the cages still sitting on the edge of the tower. “I’m so sorry. I fought as fast as I could.”

  From the cage outside the wall, there was a hiccupping sob.

  Trev’nor dove for the open doorway, and he demanded, “Is someone alive down there?” Wait, shrieking hinges, he’d said that in Chahirese. He opened his mouth to repeat it again in Khobuntish.

  “Help me!” a thin voice cried out tentatively.

  Alright, so, just a voice speaking got a response. Trev’nor switched mental tracks to Khobuntish and assured the child (it had to be with that voice), “I will, hold on.” Focusing on several cages at once, he used the stone of the tower to lift them up and bring them gently into the watchtower doorways. As he did this, he snatched the mirror broach up to his mouth. “Nolan. Hurry, I have wounded people.”

  “How many? Any enemies left?”

  “I don’t know and no. Get up here NOW.”

  “I’m already coming.”

  Garth must have been persuasive. That was good. Trev’nor could slap a field dressing on wounds but his healing ability didn’t even compare to Nolan’s. The Life Mage was the only chance some of these people had of surviving this. Using the training that had been ground into his head, he jerked open the cage doors and started evaluating people. Anyone dead he left in place, anyone wounded, he brought carefully out and put them in the center of the tower. Miraculously, there were a few that had not a scratch on them. As Trev’nor found them, he realized they were all children, all shielded underneath an adult’s bodies.

  Parents shielding their children.

  That brought new tears to his eyes but he blinked them away and kept going. He had to get the most critically wounded into the same area, that way Nolan could work his magic on multiple people at once. He had seen his friend heal two people at the same time, hopefully he could do so here.

  He got five cages open and people sorted before he heard Nolan land on the balcony. “Trev, I’m here, what do we have?”

  “Center has the wounded,” he responded, his focus not wavering. “The ones on the right side are the most critical.”

  “Got it.” Nolan moved a little too fast for a human being, and Trev’nor suspected he’d borrowed the speed of a predator cat for a moment. He did that sometimes.

  Outside the tower, lightning started flashing, and the main gates burst into splinters. Becca and Danyal were leading the attack inside, eh? Trev’nor felt viciously glad of that. Trexler had been bad, but this place nearly reeked of evil.

  There were, to his mental anguish, exactly sixteen cages. Each one held anywhere between four to five people, sixty-nine in total. Out of that sixty-nine, twenty-three were children and there wasn’t a scratch on any of them, although of course they were all crying and mourning the loss of at least one parent. They huddled inside the tower, watching Nolan work with wide eyes. Having two dragons hovering outside the tower, clinging to it like giant monkeys, might have something to do with their reactions.

  Trev’nor thought of trying to comfort them but felt wholly inadequate of the task. Instead, he turned to Nolan. “What can I do to help?”

  “That person and that person, put pressure on their wounds, they’re bleeding out too fast.” Nolan jerked his chin to indicate two people behind him.

  He promptly did as instructed.

  “And wipe that look of guilt off your face, you did the best anyone could do in this situation. How badly are you hurt?”

  He ignored the question. “If Shad had been here, we wouldn’t have lost this many people,” Trev’nor retorted bitterly.

  “Not even Shad can defeat…how many people were up here?”

  “Twenty-something.”

  “You and Garth had to defeat twenty-something people in a minute flat,” Nolan chided, exasperated but gentle, “there’s no way you can do that with such poor visuals up here.”

  Trev’nor pressed bloodied hands against the wounds and felt anything but victorious.

  That must have been obvious to Nolan as he said softly, “I wish we could have given you more help.”

  “There were thirty-six cages on the wall, according to Llona.” Trev’nor lifted his head enough to glance at Nolan, seeing the confirmation on his friend’s face. “I had 16. Of course you needed Ehsan, Azin and the other dragons to help there instead of here. They had more to rescue all at once.” Even as he said the words, he couldn’t help but wish that he’d had more help anyway. His head understood the logistics. It was his heart that was in denial.

  There was no argument from his friend. Perhaps he didn’t know what to say. Instead, Nolan bumped into him. “Move. Help the ones I healed up and out of the way so I have more room to work.”

  For the next several minutes, Trev’nor just did as ordered. It was easier that way, as he didn’t have to think, just obey. He didn’t want to, but his mind automatically kept a tally as they worked, and even with Nolan’s magic they couldn’t save everyone fast enough. Out of the sixty-nine, they lost twenty-two. To some, that might seem a good number, as it suggested he had almost beaten some very poor odds. But he didn’t feel that way about it at all.

  Finally, there was no pressing emergency to demand his attention. No one hardly needed his help outside, as five mages and an army could easily handle this small town. Nolan found a moment to heal his shoulders so that the pain left him, although it left behind a bloody and ruined shirt. Trev’nor flopped down and sat there with bloodied hands in his lap, shoulders hunched in, for the longest time. It took a moment until he realized that a woman was sitting next to him. Eyes drawn up, he took in the gaping hole in her shirt, blood around the edges, and realized that this was one of the mothers shot shielding a child. One of the people that Nolan had been able to save.

  Tentatively, she reached out, and with her sleeves wiped at his cheeks. The maternal gesture nearly broke what little hold he had on his sanity. Throat tight, words strangling, he still managed somehow to choke out, “I am so sorry.”

  She shook her head, a sad smile on her face. “Thank you.” Reaching out, she drew her own little boy into her side, and he clung to her with an iron grip. “We survived, thanks to you.”

  Trev’nor wondered if her opinion would change when she learned that they had known they would lose people by taking this place and chosen to forge ahead regardless.

  “Trev.”

  He looked up and found Nolan with a child on each hip, others clustered around him. The sight wasn’t surprising. Nolan drew children to him as well as animals. Young magicians especially liked being around him. Life Mages just had that effect on the world. “Trev, let’s get them out of here. I checked with Ehsan, and he said that there isn’t any fighting left below the tower. The fight at the main gate has just started. The hard part is over, I think. We’ve basically won.”

  Then why did this feel like a loss? Trev’nor forced himself up to his feet, drawing both mother and child up with him. “Let’s explain a few things before we go down.”

  “That’s wise.” Nolan turned to the magicians and switched to Khobuntish, explaining who they were and what they were doing here. There was a rise in attitude as they realized they had just been freed and by other magicians to boot. Learning they wouldn’t be a midnight snack to the hovering dragons probably helped relieve the tension as well.

  Most were willing to follow Nolan down, but a few lingered, uncertain about leaving the bodies of their wives or husbands behind. To them, Trev’nor assured, “This place is safe for now. No one will bother it. We will bury tomorrow.” />
  Appeased, although with heavy hearts, they followed the rest down the stairs.

  Trev’nor hadn’t done much in the way of magic, and all told this dreadful situation had played out with the span of two hours, so he shouldn’t be exhausted. But every step felt like a mile, and it was all he could do to keep balanced and upright as he took up the rear.

  Becca and Commander Danyal used the dragons for communication purposes. Llona and Garth were to tell Cat when it was time for them to move, and until then, they hovered silently in the skies and waited. Most of the dragons were set up in platoons so that they could ferry soldiers to the gate in waves. It was the only way to get everyone inside Alred without dragons landing on top of each other, or soldiers being accidentally crushed from too many bodies trying to be in the same place at the same time. Becca had gone over the deployment several times with each platoon to make sure that they understood who would go in at what timing.

  The good commander did not seem at all comfortable hugging a young, unmarried woman who was also his boss around the waist. Especially for an indefinite amount of time. But it was the only way for him to keep a secure perch on top of Cat, and since no one wanted to fall off a dragon, he kept his arms securely around her. Becca could tell, though, from the way he shifted and fidgeted that he felt extremely awkward.

  Trying to help the man, she took advantage of the quiet air to talk to him. “Do you have family, Commander?”

  “I do, my Warlord. I have two sisters, nieces and nephews, and my parents of course. Now that you have put us back on full pay, I hope to save up enough to afford a bride.”

  She blinked, trying to wrap her head around this, and failed. “I’m sorry? Afford a bride?”

  “Is this not your country’s custom as well?”

  “Ah, no. Do explain.” Becca hoped that this wasn’t what it sounded like, because if she learned men were buying women and forcing them into marriage, she was going to change her mind and burn the whole country down.

  “A man must offer his bride-to-be gifts and an assurance that he can provide for her. Her parents will not let him marry unless he can afford to pay for the wedding and buy a house.”

  Ohhh. That kind of afford. She let out a subtle breath of relief. “Actually, in Chahir, the bridge and groom share wedding expenses. The parents do prefer the man have a stable income, though, that’s not different. If you don’t mind my asking, how much would it take?”

  “It ranges, depending on the class, but for me I think I need about 80 ghani.”

  Becca did the conversion in her head and let out a low whistle. “That’s a significant amount of money.”

  “Fortunately a man only needs to marry once,” he chuckled. “The men that can afford to marry again after losing a wife, them I do not understand. They are more wealthy than a poor soldier like me.”

  From what she understood of this culture, Danyal was actually overdue by about five years to find a nice girl and get married. She’d grown rather fond of the man by this point and so wanted to help him reach this personal goal. Perhaps she could find a way to get all of the soldiers’ back pay to them? That would help him, surely. She made a mental note to investigate after they got back to Trexler. “Do you have anyone in mind?”

  “No, but there is a good matchmaker in—”

  Cat let out a roar and abruptly dove for the town below them. Becca didn’t try to shout out stupid questions, it was obviously their turn to fight. She hung on and let Cat do the flying as she called on the storm overhead, bringing lightning out and blasting the main gates open. The wooden gates splintered in smoldering pieces and blew apart into every direction. Becca kept the impact low enough that it would do the job without flinging giant splinters at the dragons. No need to risk injury before they had to.

  With a harsh backflap of the wings, Cat gave her the roughest landing ever, more intent on speed than technique. Becca did not complain, simply gave Danyal a hand down before leaping off herself. With a pat on Cat’s neck, she sent the dragon airborne again. It was the dragons’ task to shuttle soldiers in and to find the pockets of resistance or any other potential trouble in the air and relay it to her. Or take care of it themselves. She’d given them the autonomy to do whatever their judgement dictated.

  Their soldiers charged through the ruined gate, Danyal in the lead. She kept up with them effortlessly, her eyes peeled for any target that would require a magical attack even as she kept a sword in her hand. She wouldn’t use magic before she had to. It was too densely crowded in here, no matter how precise her lightning strikes, she risked hitting friend rather than foe. Besides, they had learned their lesson and tried to keep structural damage to a minimum. Trev’nor could only rebuild so much.

  Training kicked in as her adrenaline started pumping. Becca’s heartbeat was a wardrum in her ears as she fought her way through, spinning, slashing, using little jolts of lightning like arrows. Under flickering torchlight, in the dead of night, the lighting in the streets was beyond abysmal. She was extremely grateful that the soldiers here wore a dark brown uniform and not a light tan as it would have been very easy to mix up friend and foe in these conditions.

  Sweat trickled down her temples and back, and she was breathing hard in the cool air, but fighting in battles now felt almost familiar. It was not as terrifying as it had been the first two times. She fought to protect herself, to protect her men, and to protect the ones that were helpless against these whoresons. It came down to might of arms, her training against theirs, and they were good. Seasoned, experienced, well trained.

  But Becca had been trained by the very best.

  Blood and sweat was strong in the air, mixed in with the dust they had stirred up, and she almost choked on it. Two men blocked her path, and she went for them with cold calculation, only to stop abruptly when they were taken down by Danyal and another soldier she knew by face, but not by name.

  Beyond them, it was clear and she blinked in bemusement. “That was it?”

  “For the main gate,” Danyal confirmed.

  Surely not. “I gathered the impression we fought through roughly a hundred men. Surely that isn’t all of them.”

  “That’s the count I got as well, my Warlord.” Danyal cast an uncertain glance further down the street. “That’s what worries me.”

  It suddenly worried her, too. “You think the rest of the streets are a trap?”

  “We’ll either be ambushed, or…” his face fell into grim lines, mouth flattening, “worse, they’re doing something we don’t want them to do.”

  An uncertain, yawning pit formed in her stomach. “I don’t like either of those options.” Raising a mirror to her face, she called, “Azin, Ehsan, someone respond.”

  A female voice came through, light and a little breathless. “This is Azin.”

  “You were with Nolan, right? Is he still there?”

  “No, he left to help Trev’nor. There were wounded people at the top of the tower.”

  Becca took in the news with a pang in her chest. Hopefully Nolan would be able to save them, although she was too practical to think he could save them all. “Is there a dragon near you?”

  “Yes, several. Why?”

  “Ask them to search for me. We didn’t fight as many enemies at the gate as we should have. There must be more soldiers in the town.”

  “I’ll ask. Hold on.” There was a muted flurry of questions, a deep voice rumbling out answers, most of it too muddled for Becca to pick out. Then Azin returned. “They said the town has people in the houses, but they’re not soldiers. How can they tell, I don’t know, but they’re very sure of this. They did say there’s a building further toward the center that has a lot of people. Also a lot of blood. They’re not sure what that’s about, though.”

  Becca’s eyes flew to Danyal’s. The expression there told her half of what she needed to know. “You know what they did, don’t you?”

  “Sometimes,” he said, quiet strain in his voice, “They will take the stronge
st magicians and kill them rather than hand them over to an enemy. I’m sorry, my Warlord. I did not think of that possibility before because they had the slaves kept in two other places.”

  A diversion. The watchtower and the cages on the far side of town were only a diversion. It was to keep them from thinking that there might be a third location with even more magicians at risk. She swore, hard and viciously, which made every soldier around her blink. Either in awe that a woman could swear like that, or in approval for her choice in words, she didn’t know. Or care to find out. “Azin, tell the dragons to get there now. Do not let anyone leave that building, and if there’re magicians alive, get them out.”

  Azin didn’t do more than a garbled acknowledgement before the connection ended. Becca waved for the men to form up behind her and set off at a ground-eating trot for the center of town.

  After turning down two streets, she realized that she should have asked for directions, but as it turned out, they weren’t that necessary. Cat flew overhead and guided them in, then landed next to a building that was literally crawling with dragons. It was a miracle that it didn’t collapse under the weight.

  Lined up next to one of the walls were all of the other soldiers. Some dead and stacked up, others kneeling with their hands behind their heads. The dragons had lost no time in taking them captive.

  “Cat,” she called, “Status?”

  “Magicians dead,” her dragon responded, the words accompanied by a long, mournful tone that all of the dragons echoed.

  No. Becca’s eyes closed under the weight of that announcement. Her earlier feeling of misgiving came up to choke her and she felt like throwing up. She fought down the urge. “These are the men who did it?”

  Those golden eyes narrowed as she stared at the prisoners. “Yes. No like.”

  “We’ll deal with them later, promise.” Becca felt like hugging her, giving and taking some comfort, but the dragon was still draped on top of the building.