Steve rolled across the flat rooftop until he reached the opposite edge. There, too, another warrior on horseback herding the crowd toward the same destination, and like all the others this one bore the red symbol etched into his leather gambeson. The young man now fully understood the reason for the fear these people had of him at first sight; his shirt with the red knot work symbol on the breast pocket of his shirt marking him mistakenly for one of Borathis’s own.
The mounted man passed and Steve summoned his staff to his hand before sneaking across the rooftops, jumping from one to the next, pausing and crouching whenever one of Borathis’s men passed too near. Farther ahead, he heard the booming voice of someone shouting angrily—likely the one in command—and decided it was time climb down. Anyone on these flat rooftops would be easily spotted from a distance and Steve had no desire to give his approach away.
He dropped down and landed in a crouch, pausing to verify a clear path in both directions. Once they had finished playing with the townsfolk, Borathis’s men turned to the task of gathering them up and funneling them to the market square. Now every road and shop lie as deserted and bare as a ghost town.
So far, so good.
Without further delay, he ran along the side of the road and hugged close to the empty shops for cover. Very soon that same booming voice came clearly to his ears.
“Unless he is brought to me, you all suffer!” the voice bellowed. “I’ll tear your homes and fields apart and I will find him. Or do you wish to end up like this man? He sheltered the fugitive and he shall be punished for it—along with the rest of you unless I find him!”
Steve wondered whom ‘this man here’ was supposed to be. He had already gathered the ‘him’ could be no one but himself, but the only person who ever helped him was—“Shit!” he cursed softly—was Bareg.
Another voice spoke up; some other farmer, most likely. “I saw the winged man escaping. I saw him from a distance and he was carrying someone away.”
Steve reached the last shop and then peered carefully around the corner. By the look of it, the entire population of the town surrounded a raised platform upon which three figures stood and one kneeled. The kneeling man was Bareg. Someone had tied his hands behind his back and beaten him several times across the face. The young wizard guiltily recalled entertaining the notion the ambush in the loft had been because the big farmer had betrayed him; but now he could see he clearly hadn’t given the man enough credit. The bellowing warrior addressed the crowd in polished steel plate armor that glimmered in the sunlight. As tall, and easily as wide, as Bareg, he sported broad shoulders, thick legs and powerful hands. From each joint in his battle dress a single steel spike jutted from the knees, elbows, and shoulders. He carried a large double-bladed sword at his side and a menacing horned helmet upon his head. This could be no other than Borathis. The pair beside him Steve recognized as two of those who had taken he and Sonya prisoner at the barn.
“Please, Lord Borathis,” a bedraggled-looking townsman begged. “If it was he whom the winged man carried away, then you would destroy our homes and crops for nothing!”
Borathis’s helmet moved slowly from side to side. “No, if the birdman carried one then one yet remains.”
Steve scanned the outskirts of the crowd counting men. He didn’t like his odds. At least two dozen mounted men surrounded the populace, keeping them in check, while Borathis talked. Every man at his command carried a menacing-looking sword; some carrying crossbows as well.
“Enough talk!” Borathis bellowed to his men. “Burn the fields and do not stop until either the man or the woman is found!”
“Don’t bother!”
Everyone turned as one toward the voice as a young man walked into view from around the corner of a shopkeeper’s stand. Borathis remained motionless, but then began laughing until the thunder in his voice filled the market square. His men joined in separately, their laughter sounding less sincere, as if not exactly sure what was so funny.
“Is this your terrible foe?” Borathis asked of one of the sentries at his side. The two of them leaned on their staves looking uncomfortable. Borathis laughed harder than before. Angrily, the two men jumped down from the platform and the crowd parted for their passage. They stopped before the youth and held their weapons toward him threateningly.
Steve let his staff drop and raised his hands with his palms out. “I’m telling you guys, you don’t want to do this.”
They moved to either side and gripped him by his upper arms to haul him forward. Steve’s left hand went right, and his right to the left, fastening a firm hold on the front of their clothing. He hoisted them into the air with effortless ease and then tossed them aside as a child might discard toy dolls. Borathis watched and burst forth with another round of guffaws. Steve picked his staff up from the ground and then casually walked to where the two men were recovering their feet. In two swift strokes, he struck them down.
Borathis was clapping now, applauding the conclusion with genuine amusement in his eyes.
Steve nodded. “How funny is this?” He hurtled his staff and it flew across the space between them, spinning like a fan blade.
Borathis’s hand was a blur of motion and the staff broke into two unequal halves. An instant later, the dinner plate sized saw blade he unleashed whizzed past Steve’s head and embedded itself in the wall of the shop behind him. The warrior then relaxed his arm to his side slowly, waiting for his young opponent’s next move.
“That was most uncool,” Steve muttered shocked.
When Steve did nothing, Borathis asked, “And what now, little fighter? You have great strength, but strength alone does not win battles. You are but one and I am many.” He held his arms out as if opening the question up to everyone around him. “What would any of you do in my place?” The crowd and all his men were silent. “Well then, this is what I think I would do.” He motioned casually with his hand and an armored warrior leveled his crossbow on the young man’s chest.
Steve did not need to be a mind reader to understand Borathis was no longer amused.
“My lord and master has instructed that, should I deem it necessary, I am to kill you.” He waited then several heart pounding moments, then tilted his head, his decision made. “I find the dead transport more easily than the living.”
Steve’s mind raced. The crystal had saved him in the barn, allowing him to absorb the blows from the staff, but would that translate to a bolt? He could feel the crystal’s reassuring thrum against his chest but he wanted to run for his life. His instincts screamed at him to flee but he doubted it would help. This was no farmer; the professional crossbowman would likely cut him down before he could take a step. No, the power of the crystal would have to be enough.
It had to be.
Then an arrow loosed and cut through the air with a deadly hiss. Razor sharp steel found its target with a dreadful thud, and the warrior aiming at the young man fell from his saddle clutching the feathered shaft protruding from his chest.
Hundreds of winged men dropped from the sky like angels of death screaming their fury. Borathis’s men went for their crossbows or brandished swords and grew feathered shafts from their own bodies for their trouble. Screams of terror erupted from the surrounding townsfolk and they scattered like frightened rats in every direction.
Steve turned and jumped to the safety of a rooftop in a single leap as a horde of townspeople flooded toward him. He looked on as Borathis’s men fought desperately against the assault but, caught off guard, found themselves quickly overwhelmed by the masses of their enemy. The struggle did not last long, and when it was over only Borathis and six of his men remained.
Eegrin called to Steve from among the throngs of winged men on the ground, waving his arms and shouting at his human friend.
“Eegrin!” Steve returned joyously. He jumped down and then caught his friend in a powerful hug. “Man, you have amazing timing. I thought I was a goner!”
Eegrin laughed. “Your words are stran
ge as ever, but need no interpretation this time, my friend.”
Steve’s heart pounded in his chest from the adrenaline still coursing through his system, and he reveled in the fact he remained alive. “What happened to you? You flew off with Sonya and that was the last I saw of you. Is she all right?”
Before Eegrin could answer, another winged man stepped forth with rosy cheeks and a huge smile. His flaring red beard and powerful-looking biceps belied a somewhat round belly on a stout frame covered with exquisitely etched, hard leather armor accented with gold fasteners. He held his arms out as he approached, as if welcoming a long-lost son. Steve had no idea who this jovial stranger was but he met this embrace with equal enthusiasm. He was so happy to be rescued he wanted to hug each and every Jisetra in the square.
The stranger’s laugh was deep and booming as he lifted Steve from the ground and spun him once before setting him down again. “Ah, it is so good to make your acquaintance, my boy!” he said.
“It’s nice to meet you, too,” Steve replied. “Uh, who are you, by the way?”
The rounded belly shook as he laughed wholeheartedly. “But of course, where are my manners? I am King Gorium, general of these fine warriors and ruler of the Jisetrian nation.”
“Oh, I-I’m sorry,” Steve stammered, embarrassed now he had hugged the man. “I suppose I should have bowed or something.”
Again the King’s rich voice boomed with laughter. “You are too kind, wizard.” His eyes turned for a moment to Eegrin. “Imagine, the Third Power of Mithal bowing to me.”
The king laughed again and Steve eyed Eegrin pointedly with a look that asked, just what have you been telling him? Eegrin shook his head once and then mouthed the word ‘later’.
Steve’s attention left his friend when King Gorium clapped him on the shoulder. “Tell me, wizard, what is your name?”
“Steven, your majesty.”
Bareg pushed his way through the throngs of Jisetra until he reached their small circle. “Are you all right, Steven? I am sorry they captured you. My neighbor saw you and—“
“Who are you to barge into the conversation of the king of the Jisetra—and the Third Power of Mithal, no less?” Gorium demanded.
“No, it’s okay,” Steve said quickly. “Bareg is a friend of mine. He took me in when no one else would.”
“It was his duty!” the king countered as though that much were obvious. “Who refused you aid? I’ll drop them from the clouds with my own two hands!”
“King Gorium, please,” Steve said over his ranting. “No one knew who I am, but Bareg took us in anyway.” He then suddenly remembered his original question and turned to Eegrin.
“She has been taken care of,” Eegrin replied with a patting gesture of his hands. “Some of the men took Sonya in their charge and returned with her to the palace.”
Steve exhaled relieved. To the king he said, “Bareg is a friend of mine, and I would like him to stay.”
King Gorium nodded with a smile, his good humor returning to his features. “If it is what you wish, then so be it. The peasant may stay.”
An outburst of laughter erupted near the platform followed by an enraged, “The Emperor will have your heads for this!”
The king placed an arm about Steve’s shoulders and urged him forward. The crowd parted as they walked until Borathis, visibly seething with anger, met them with a steely gaze, his hands tied behind his back and lashed to the wrists of his remaining men.
“What is the matter?” King Gorium asked the warlord. “Do my men trouble you?”
Someone had placed a flower into each of the nostrils of Borathis’s helmet, and he shook them viciously away. “When Azinon hears of this you will suffer, bird man!”
King Gorium appeared undisturbed. “Azinon rules humankind; not the Jisetra. He may have taken the throne of the empire, but he does not rule the whole of it.” He continued without giving Borathis the chance to reply. “Until such time as he does, I do as I please, to whomever I please.”
“That time will be here soon,” Borathis hissed.
“Perhaps.” King Gorium ceded with a tilt of his head. “But for now it is not so, and until that time has arrived you shall address me as ‘Your Majesty’.” His brows furrowed in seriousness that promised deadly consequences for refusal.
Borathis’s eyes blazed savagely, and the words dripped as venom from his lips but... “So be it…Your Majesty.”
Satisfied, the king’s smile returned. He turned swiftly to an officer on his left, “Now kill them.”
“No!” Steve blurted.
King Gorium halted in place and looked puzzled. “You wish them spared?” the king asked.
“Well…yeah,” Steve replied, not sounding too convincing even to himself. “Borathis, I suppose, I don’t mind so much, but the others…”
King Gorium thought a moment and finally said, “Very well, my men shall not harm them.”
Again, Steve was relieved and thankful at the same time.
With a nod from his King, Eegrin ushered Steve and Bareg away. When they were too far away to hear, King Gorium turned back to the same officer and said, “When we are gone you will take them to the Valley of the Harpies and leave them, unarmed.”
The officer gave a curt nod and a knowing smile. “Very clever, Your Majesty. You keep your word and eliminate those who tried to kill the Third at the same time.”
“Indeed,” King Gorium replied.
Eegrin directed several winged soldiers as they fashioned a harness from leather and rope and attached it securely around Steve’s legs and torso. When they finished he shook hands with Bareg one final time.
“Thanks for everything. I won’t forget what you did for us.”
“Think nothing of it,” Bareg replied. “If I could do it again, I would.”
Steve nodded, not doubting it for a minute. “I still feel bad about your barn, and several of your chickens were killed when I crashed through the floor. I just wish there were some way to—” His eyes widened in sudden inspiration. “Don’t go anywhere!”
Bareg watched puzzled as Steve rushed past him dragging both lines of his harness along the ground behind him. He ran straight for the jailhouse and disappeared inside while the farmer scratched his chin.
In a few moments, the three lords and the jailer emerged, scattering in different directions the moment they were clear of the threshold. Steve emerged a few seconds later with a broad smile on his face, while Bareg’s own reflected pure amazement at what he saw. Trailing Steve came dozens of floating chairs, interspersed with short floating balusters, filing out of the door after him. The crowd of winged warriors parted with startled murmurs as Steve approached at the head of the strange procession.
King Gorium stared wide-eyed. “By the Third!” he breathed.
Each chair hovered a few inches above the ground and followed the young wizard as obediently as trained pets. He stopped before Bareg with an amused grin in response to the astonishment written plainly across his and every face around. Steve turned then on his heels and sixty-three chairs and various pieces of the courtroom crowded close.
“This man,” he said referring to Bareg, “will take you to your new home. I brought you to life but it would not have been possible if not for this man’s hospitality. Follow his instructions and obey them as if they were my own. Help him maintain his farm and be of service in any way you can. In return he will help protect you from the elements and from damage.” Steve waited a moment, trying to find some sign of comprehension or acknowledgement in their wooden frames. Of course, now that he thought about it, what could they do? “Protect him and his family the same way you protected me.” Steve turned around and said, “They’re all yours.”
Bareg’s face was a mixture of astonishment and immense gratitude. At a loss for words, he forced himself to speak. “This is – I do not know what to say.”
“How about yes? I certainly can’t take them with me where I’m going.”
“Yes! Yes
, of course! There are many things they can do for us. They are worth the loss of ten barns! Steve, this is most generous of you.”
“This is the least I could do after everything you did for me.”
“Consider yourself fortunate, human, and be on your way,” King Gorium said impatiently. To the young man, “It is time we departed, Wizard Steven.”
Bareg shook hands one last time and turned to go. The chairs pressed in close behind him and followed as he left. A murmur of wonder spread through the crowd of winged soldiers as they all departed.
King Gorium clapped his hands loudly once. “All right, stop your gawking! We take flight to the palace!”
Chapter IX
Their voices united in a triumphant shout, the Jisetra sailed into the air as if gravity reversed itself and hurled them skyward. Steve shielded his eyes as dust and debris swirled up with the beating of a thousand wings. He did not even see the two warriors take hold of his draglines in the upward rain of bodies, but his heart skipped a beat as the tethers of his harness snapped taut and carried him upward from the firm security of earth. The town fell away below him as if fleeing, becoming smaller and smaller until but a speck upon a quilted landscape of fields and rivers.
“You and your friend must feast with us tonight,” King Gorium shouted over the wind.
Steve pulled his eyes away from the spectacle of the landscape. “Feast?”
“Yes,” the King replied with a hearty laugh. “When Eegrin informed us of your plight – a wizard’s plight—I knew then the Third Power of Mithal had finally come. I left instructions for a great banquet to be prepared in your honor.”
Steve tossed a lock of his hair away from his eyes. “King Gorium, there is something I think I should tell you. This Third Power business, I’m not so sure you’ve got it right.”
“What is not to get right?” he asked. “You are the third in Mithal armed with the power of magic. Certainly, there are others; meagerly talented magicians and the like, but none so powerful as you. By your name, what further proof need there be but to bring the inanimate to life!”
Third Power Page 24