“I know you’re upset with me,” he said. “You don’t want me to fight. I could bring the whole thing tumbling down. But Master Gaston told me—he assured me—if things go the way he plans, I won’t even have to lift my sword.”
She sighed and bowed her head. “How does a cat make for such a good person? I’m not mad at you. I’m worried about you. We aren’t playing at a war here. Ivan is coming, and he wants to draw blood. I don’t want him to draw yours.”
“He won’t,” Merlin promised. “And when all of this is over, I’ll be a hero.”
Adelia smiled and placed her hand on his chest. “You’re already a hero,” she bade.
He felt a sudden chill beneath her fingers, and when he looked down, an icy flower was there upon his tunic. “What’s this?”
“Every hero needs a medal. We can call you Merlin of the Flowers.”
He smiled at the notion and stared out at the gardens he enjoyed so much. The memories he recalled had his eyes twinkling. All at once, though, his smile faded and he looked away. “It will melt away.”
“What kind of amateur do you take me for?” she teased. “My magic is strong. You heard Lucinda. I could sustain that badge of honor for days.”
“I did hear her,” he pressed. “I remember when she said whatever something is, it always will be. Just because I’m in this form doesn’t mean I’m anything more than just a cat. And this rose of ice? It doesn’t make me a hero.” He spun about and marched back toward the keep.
“Merlin,” Adelia spoke with as soothing a voice as possible.
“Leave him, Miss Kreegan,” she heard. Gaston and Lucinda were close by, and Lucinda wore a wry grin. The sage beside her was more subdued, but even his countenance looked softer than it had been. “If you want to know your role in this, now is as good a time as any.”
The young lady nodded and stood straighter. “I don’t want to be the only one standing by the wayside.”
“You won’t,” he said. Gaston gave a gentle nudge to Lucinda and offered a smile. “You’ve done well. Wrap up those things inside, and we’ll be ready.” As the seasoned sorceress took her leave, the sage turned his attention to his apprentice. “As for you… Did you know that battles are won in many ways? Hardly any are won by violence alone. The two sides retreat, or terms of surrender are discussed. Two things will win this for us, though: attrition and deception.”
“What do you mean?” Adelia asked.
“Well, as to the deception, we’ve been able to lean heavily on Lucinda. Her skills will prove invaluable in this fight. Before the end, Ivan and his men will see their morale in tatters. That is how we will defeat him.
“Attrition,” Gaston went on, “is how they will defeat themselves. An army only has so many resources. An archer is only worthwhile when he has an arrow in his quiver, do you understand?” When Adelia nodded, Gaston squeezed her shoulder. “A wizard is not too unlike an archer. We have to be reserved with our casting—we are the quiver, after all.”
“So what exactly do you have me doing?” she wondered.
A grin stretched upon Gaston’s face. “Let me show you to your battle station.”
Chapter Fourteen: Unbridled
He felt his breath shudder as the opposing forces drew near.
“You expected a smaller group,” Orson said.
Before Gaston could speak, Reya grumbled. “He’s brought everyone, it seems. Damned be Sungarden if crime should come to it now. His ire knows no bounds.”
“We probably won’t be able to reason with him,” Lucinda said.
“No,” the sage beside her agreed. “But still, we shall try.”
All four of them waited there on white horses while Ivan’s men marched across the field. Gaston and his party were far from the gardens and far from their forces. That distance only seemed to grow as the army from Sungarden drew closer.
An audible gasp could be heard when a trio of horses broke from that crowd. Ivan, rotund as he was, burdened his horse most of all and arrived before the Forsynthians last, his mount braying in protest.
“Right,” he said. “You have what is mine. Hand them over, and there will be no need for violence.”
Gaston snorted and shook his head. “You don’t strike me as a pacifist, sir. Do you mean to tell me the refugees that came here wouldn’t see the business end of a noose?”
“They’re criminals—fugitives—and you’re harboring them.”
“And what, pray tell, are their crimes?”
“Destruction of property, inciting terror in the city, and of course, the use of magic in Sungarden. And those are just the start.”
“It’s not magic,” Orson grumbled.
“And those crimes would not have occurred if not for—”
The sage of Forsynthia lifted his hand to silence his side of the field. “You would charge these people with an offense when they cannot control what they are. Furthermore, you were willing to condemn them to death, is that it?”
“And what of my crimes?” Lucinda asked. “Whatever will you do with me, Lord Romsford?”
Ivan narrowed his eyes, fixing his gaze upon that plump woman more closely. When a flash of recognition reached him, he growled and looked at the sage again. “The rest of you are meaningless. Give us the wildfolk, that traitor there, and the hostages you took, and we shall leave you and your meager keep alone.”
Ruminating on those terms for a time, Gaston clicked his tongue. “Offer me money.”
Orson shot a worried glance his way.
Ivan, meanwhile, arched an eyebrow. “Money?”
“Yes,” Gaston returned. “A considerable sum, as well. How else do you expect me to improve this meager keep?”
“You’re telling me that if I give you money, you’ll give us the prisoners, release the hostages, and—”
“You misunderstand me, sir,” Gaston chortled. “You’re offering me money so your men can leave with their lives and perhaps a little dignity.”
It would not have surprised any of the Forsynthian defenders if the magistrate’s eyes turned a fierce red. He scrunched up his face into a sinister growl and spun his horse about. His two lieutenants followed him back to the majority of his forces.
“I don’t suppose that’s him leaving with an indication of sending the money later,” Lucinda wondered.
“Men like Ivan are pointless to parlay with,” Gaston said. “He’s gone quite mad, and the only thing he’ll respond to is a sound thrashing.” When he directed his white steed back toward the gardens, those who accompanied him did so as well. As they made their way, he turned to the werebear. “Are you all right, my friend? I felt your gaze upon me like the chill grasp of a wight. You know I never meant to bargain with him for your freedom.”
“A little warning next time would be nice,” Orson said.
“And risk the surprise of seeing his face almost erupt like a volcano?”
“Speaking of warnings,” Lucinda interrupted. “Are you all ready to dismount?” When no objections were sent her way, she snapped her fingers, and a bright light encompassed the quartet. They landed on their feet, and the rodents the sorceress repurposed scattered into the field. “Watch your footing,” she reminded.
Just beyond the reach of the garden, the rest of Forsynthia’s forces waited. Adelia lingered at the front of that narrow line. When the leadership returned, she could see in their eyes that no progress had been made. She blew out a quick sigh before shaking out her hands.
“Are you ready, Miss Kreegan?” the sage called out.
She nodded and summoned a flaming, violet marble. As her friends crossed over the line, she heaved it into the air, the tail streaking through the sky. Against the setting sunlight, it faded from vision fast, and none could see if it reached Ivan and the pursuers of Sungarden.
It mattered not, for everyone in attendance could hear the hoofbeats of the cavalry then. They came at full gallop, and even the sage steadied himself with a deep breath. As they drew closer, battle cr
ies on their lips, he looked to his apprentice once more.
Adelia did as she was silently instructed. She rotated her hands in a continuous motion, until a roiling, dark cloud took shape there. As it churned larger and larger, a bead of moisture fell from the apprentice’s brow. When the cloud grew too wide for her arms to contain, she sent it off, toward those eager riders.
“Now we’ll see if they do what’s expected of them,” Gaston said.
His pupil didn’t wait to see if they would. Again, she fired off violet projectiles, that time aimed at the riders. A score of those missiles flew right beneath the storm cloud, lightning dancing within it. Adelia looked to her side and smiled as her mentor fired off missiles of his own, in all the colors of the rainbow.
Ivan’s riders broke formation as the first strike of lightning resounded across the field. Some horses bucked and brayed, and the others circled around that storm.
Gaston turned his attention to the other sorceress then. Lucinda’s eyes were narrowed, and he didn’t miss the sinister smirk either. She seemed to grow taller with every gallop of those horses.
The riders were too far away to see that challenging gaze. It would have been too late anyway. The horses would never be able to stop in time.
All at once, the ground gave way beneath them. A thin layer of grass was all that separated the cavalry from a trench dug deep and filled with water. The first rider was thrown from the saddle without warning as his mount plunged into the moat, but his cry of caution did not come soon enough. In moments, all the horses splashed into the trench, sending riders flying and mounts spooking this way and that.
As the horsemen pulled themselves from the muck, chasing after their horses or dodging magic projectiles, Gaston spun about and whistled. The Forsynthian defenders withdrew, while Ivan’s infantry marched toward the keep.
“Miss Kreegan,” Gaston called out.
She slung one more pair of violet projectiles for good measure. The apprentice laughed as one of the attackers from Sungarden heaved himself back into the moat to avoid that otherwise innocuous missile. Without further delay, she joined with her allies as they fell back through the gardens.
Those hedge creatures looked more lifelike than ever, thanks to a hefty dose of Lucinda’s magic. Bulls and stags and wolves and dragons judged those who passed. A low iron fence—transformed string, as she heard it—also served to block the path of the invaders. Though Gaston hoped otherwise, Adelia didn’t believe the little fence—barely higher than her ankles—would prevent the wildflowers from being trampled.
The aspiring sorceress arrived at the indicated spot, just beyond the gardens. The keep was just behind them, two new sets of stone steps leading up to the walkway above the entrance.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” she asked.
“Trust me,” Lucinda bade. “They won’t be able to follow us.”
The younger arcanist smirked. “I was more concerned with getting up there myself.”
“They’ll hold,” the sorceress garbed in purple assured with a wink. “Just long enough.”
Adelia felt a gentle grasp on her shoulder. Gaston wore an uneasy smile, but he forced a nod. “Let’s try something a little different, shall we?” At once, he had another colored orb in his hand, though that one filled out more of his palm. He rolled it on the ground along the path through the gardens. When it neared the Sungarden aggressors, a shower of sparks forced it into the sky.
His pupil couldn’t resist that challenge. She mimicked her mentor, sending an orb of her own rolling down the lane. When her spell picked up more momentum, the sparks sent it flying forward instead of into the air. She snickered as the invaders leapt to safety.
A reminder that they weren’t playing a game screeched through the air. Gaston noticed it just before it reached their ranks. The sage cast his arm to the side, and a gust of wind took that arrow safely off course.
He locked his jaw, knowing that projectile was not the last. With tremendous emphasis, the wizard of Forsynthia twirled his arms in a hypnotizing dance, until those men from Sungarden, who crept through the wildflower gardens, were no longer so well hidden. Purple light seemed to emanate from their skin and clothing, identifying them without fail in the setting sunlight. Their equipment was not safe from the faerie fire either, and as more arrows came soaring in, they shined in that violet aura.
The three arcanists worked to dismiss those projectiles however they could. More gusts of wind took some wildly off course, while Adelia summoned tall pillars of ice to halt their flight. Lucinda, meanwhile, threw stones as calmly as though she were skipping them in a lake. In midair, they turned to wide pieces of wood, catching the stray arrows her companions missed.
As the enemies advanced, Gaston could feel his apprentice’s eyes upon him. He nodded but kept his focus upon the attackers.
“Now!” Adelia cried.
Subtle movements before the keep would never prepare those from Sungarden for the next bout of retaliation. Bows seemed to appear from nowhere, aimed before nothing. Adelia knew the truth, though. Lucinda had perfected her transformation spells and turned ordinary cloaks into a perfect pattern that matched the stone of the keep. The camouflage was only interrupted by movement—and the half dozen archers were quick to move.
Those arrows that came from Forsynthia’s defenders soared through the air unseen, except for when they were illuminated by a passing projectile from the other end of the battlefield.
A chorus of thumps and thuds rang out as the blunt-tipped arrows met their marks. Cries and groans followed, and a handful of Sungarden’s finest fell to the ground.
“Don’t just stand there!” the humiliated Ivan commanded. “Move up!”
“Fall back,” Gaston ordered. “Everyone into the keep!”
The defenders did as told, turning about and passing beneath the portcullis. The archers—Merlin, Trevor, Dale, and a few of the wildfolk—ascended the stairs on the other side. With their camouflage useless, several of them threw their cloaks to the ground. Adelia arrived beside them as well, peering down at Ivan and his aggressors. Broken and weary, they should have abandoned their pursuit. She knew the magistrate better than that, though. His makeshift army, stragglers on the battlefield, would never surrender until he did.
With a shout from that man urging them forward, his ragtag remnants advanced. The archers upon the keep’s walls nocked more blunted arrows to their bows, firing them down into the approaching forces. The soldiers of Sungarden sought refuge behind tall hedge guardians and stray trees, nursing their wounds while they worked to overcome their fears. Still, Ivan’s voice rang out, demanding courage despite their terrible odds.
Adelia narrowed her eyes, waiting for the perfect moment. When their enemies passed a point of no return, she gave a quiet nod to her comrades on the wall.
“Wizards of Forsynthia!” she cried. “Now is the time to rise up!”
At once, a sextet of arcanists took their places upon the wall, evenly spaced between the archers. Adelia saw the fear in the eyes of those closest invaders and smiled.
Those unwitting soldiers didn’t see the mechanisms that had flipped the training dummies—transformed to look more human—into position. The archers stepped on pedals to bring their artificial allies up beside them, but they offered nothing beyond the illusion of numbers.
Adelia set to work at once. With her lowered hands, she summoned little balls of magic into existence, in different sizes and colors. They scattered behind the crenellation, unseen by the invaders, until they took up positions before the false spellcasters.
“Fire!” the aspiring sorceress cried.
The archers began that barrage, and Adelia cast forth her magic. Streaks of color shot across the battlefield, landing amongst those from Sungarden. All hope of retreat was lost, as those spells traveled far. As Adelia readied her second volley, all eyes landed on the keep—the only source of refuge.
Amongst all the confusion, the sound of distant trumpets
was almost lost to the fighters on both sides. Adelia let fly her latest colored orbs and took a step back, locating her mentor.
Gaston stood in the center of the courtyard. With a beaming smile, he offered a nod to his impressive apprentice. “Let’s see some fireworks, Miss Kreegan.”
His smile was contagious, for Adelia couldn’t contain the joy at enacting the final part of their plan. She stepped up to the edge of the wall and waved her arm in a giant flourish, activating the magic in its truest sense.
Every seemingly innocuous spell she and Gaston had created—every colorful orb that seemed to miss its mark—pulsed in the order they had been shot forth. One by one, they exploded into the air in a dazzling display, sending sparks flying and brightening the darkened sky. As those fireworks boomed closer and closer to Sungarden’s broken army, they scattered and ran to the keep, some leaving weapons and shields behind.
Those defenders on the wall let fly an enormous cheer at the display. Adelia looked to her closest companion, a radiant smile upon her face. Merlin gave her a knowing nod and let his bow drop to the ground.
Gaston ascended the stone steps behind him as the soldiers of Sungarden raced beneath the opened portcullis. “Orson!” the sage boomed.
At once, the wildfolk formed a semicircle around the entrance of the keep. They gave in to their primal side, embracing the transformation that had earned Ivan’s ire. Those beaten soldiers fell to their knees, begging forgiveness for their roles in the attack.
The fireworks reflected off the faces of those defenders on the wall. Adelia looked skyward, remembering what Gaston had told her days earlier. They had survived—all of them. She could think of no better reward.
As distracted as she was, she did not notice the subtle movement behind one of the topiary guardians. Another defender on the wall, though, spotted that purple light out of the corner of his eye. As the archer below took aim, Merlin realized who the target would be. He burst forward before the missile was loosed.
For Adelia, the next few seconds seemed to move at an impossibly slow pace. She heard her name echo from her friend’s lips. She turned to see him charging her way. Fear was apparent in his eyes, hinting at the danger he had found. By the time she noticed the faerie fire-tinted arrow flying her way, it was too late. She would never be able to cast a defensive spell in time.
Transformed (Ancestral Magic Book 2) Page 12