by Colt, K. J.
“No, I didn’t even ask her. She did it on her own . . . How did you know about that? Did you follow me?” she asked.
“No. Distance-seeing. While you were off on your fool’s errand, I looked up the appropriate spell so that I could keep an eye on you. You were only a day or so away, so it was child’s play. You say that the dragon decided to bring you food of its own accord?” he said, eying the creature curiously.
“She did,” Myranda said.
Wolloff rubbed his chin as he looked at the dragon, who looked as though she would tear him to pieces if he took a step closer. He reluctantly allowed Myn to stay inside, with the stipulation that she behave herself. Myranda assured him that she would so long as he did the same. When Myn was satisfied that Wolloff was of no real concern, she fetched the mangled helmet, brought it to Myranda’s feet, and commenced the destruction.
“You brought that from the battleground, as I recall,” he said.
“Yes,” she said.
“It--what’s left of it, that is--looks like an Alliance helmet. A fancy one at that. I must remember to inform Caya. Troop action this far north is rare, and this deep in the forest is rarer still. I don’t like it,” he said.
There was very little instruction that night, with Myranda retiring gratefully to her bed soon after he prepared a meal for her. Evidently Wolloff felt that her experiences in rescuing the beast were lesson enough.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THE WEEKS THAT FOLLOWED PASSED much as those before had--with one notable exception. Myn, who was protective before, was now overprotective and always by Myranda’s side. For the first two weeks, she didn’t leave Myranda for even a moment, not even to hunt. She was worried for her health, but Wolloff dubiously assured her that after a big meal, a dragon could go months before eating again. In time, the dragon did leave, but only long enough to satisfy her hunger. At all other times, she was with Myranda, chewing and clawing at the helmet and watching Wolloff like a hawk.
The first order of business in terms of instruction was the addition of a spell that could be of greater use to her than any she had learned to date. It was more difficult to cast and was not always appropriate, but given enough time to do its work, the spell could heal even the direst of wounds. Wolloff called it the healing sleep, a spell that put the recipient into a deep slumber and drew upon their own spiritual strength to continuously cure whatever damage or disease was ailing the body. Myranda had difficulty testing such a spell. She could not use it on herself, and Wolloff would certainly not allow her to test it on him. She did cast it on Myn once, with great success. Unfortunately, the creature, upon waking, made it quite clear she did not like being forced into sleep, likely remembering when Wolloff had done it when they first met.
It was just past the end of the third month of training, the midpoint, before they were interrupted again. Spring should have come, but this far north, and in the Low Lands in particular, the only indication of this was a sprinkle of rain mixing with the snow occasionally. Such a storm was passing through toward the end of the daily training session in the tower when a commotion could be heard in the main room down stairs. The sound alone was enough to put Myn on guard.
“Wait here. I will see what has happened,” Wolloff instructed.
The wizard clutched the amulet and cautiously descended the stairs. Myranda waited anxiously at the top of the flight, Myn standing rigidly in front of her, still clutching the chewed-up helm in her teeth. After an eternity of silence, Wolloff’s voice rang out from below. It was filled with desperation and concern.
“Come quickly!” he yelled.
She rushed down the stairs. When she reached the bottom, she was met with a terrible sight. It was Caya. The once proud warrior was at death’s door. Blood was dried over a dozen wounds, and still ran from a half-dozen more. She looked as though she had ridden the whole night through without rest, soaked to the skin from the freezing rain and muttering, as though she had something important to say, but no words would come.
Myn looked over the battered woman. Normally she would view any human as a threat to her precious friend, but somehow she seemed to know that this was different. This was serious.
“I will tend to the more serious wounds. You put her into the healing sleep,” Wolloff ordered.
Caya put her hand on the wizard’s shoulder.
“No sleep!” she commanded. “No time.”
The two healers did their best to close the wounds and undo the damage that had been done. As her strength began to return, Caya spoke.
“They came, they came from the south. Elites. We didn’t have time! We were unprepared! How could we be prepared? The Elites are after the Red Shadow, not the Undermine! They haven’t been in the Low Lands for over a year! It must be a second squad. It must be! And they are coming. They are coming for you, Myranda,” Caya said, almost in a daze.
Myranda let the words enter her ears, but paid them no mind. There was a job to do. Everything else had to wait. She focused her mind around the crystal and chose the appropriate spells, casting them with equal care. The dutiful healer kept at it, making sure that every last wound was closed before she let the things that had been said enter her mind.
“What is going on? Who are the Elite?” she asked.
Caya rubbed her restored legs.
“The Elites. They are the very best of the old guard. A soldier who survives a dozen battles is a veteran. Two dozen is a legend. When a man passes into the realm of myth, he is made a member of the Elite. To form a second squad to find you, you must be worth more to them than even I had thought,” Caya explained.
Myranda’s head was spinning. Some of it was due to the effort of casting the spells. Mostly it was the harsh reality that was crashing down around her. She had only vaguely heard of the Elites, but she shuddered to think of the man they sought. The Red Shadow. The assassin. How could she have done something to become as highly sought as he without knowing it? The man had killed colonels, barons, ambassadors! All she had done was find a sword!
“They dismantled the headquarters. Barely escaped with my life. Lost three good men. They will be here in hours. We need to evacuate,” Caya said.
“Evacuate! We cannot evacuate! What of my books!?” Wolloff said.
“Leave them!” she demanded.
“I will not!” she said.
“You must choose between your books and your life,” she said.
“My books are my life!” he proclaimed, no hint of humor in his voice.
“I cannot afford to lose you, Wolloff. Move now! Time is wasting!” she commanded.
“The books are irreplaceable. They are one of a kind. If I lose them now, the knowledge within them will be lost forever. You say that you cannot afford to lose me, but it is my knowledge of these books that you need. I will not leave them!” Wolloff said.
The two strong-willed individuals launched into a simultaneous debate, both unwilling to wait for the other to finish talking. Myn became agitated, baring her teeth and scratching at the floor, ready to take action if the argument became anything more. The sound of the helmet dropping to the floor drew Caya’s attention.
“Where did this beast come from?” Caya demanded.
“She belongs to Myranda. Keep your hands away from her mouth,” Wolloff said.
“And the helmet? Where did she find it?” she asked.
“Some time ago, there were some soldiers to the north of here. The beast had a run-in. What does it matter?” he said.
“That is certainly an Elite helmet! They came so near to you and I was not alerted!” she cried out.
Immediately the two started yelling again. As the endless arguing raged, Myranda’s mind was working quickly. There had to be some sort of solution. Slowly an idea revealed itself. It was not a perfect one, but time allowed for little else.
“Wait!” Myranda yelled.
The two turned to her.
“If we ran. All of us. Right now. What would we do?” Myranda asked.
“The
re is a safe house to the northeast. We would head for that. Then I would contact some of our field agents to gather enough intelligence to make a decision where to go next,” Caya said.
“And how would we get there?” Myranda asked.
“With a lot of legwork and all of the luck in the world, we just might make it there with our lives,” she said.
“Then we stand to gain little by running, at least together,” Myranda said.
“What are you suggesting?” Wolloff said.
“They want me, right? In fact, you just might have been left alive simply to lead them to me,” Myranda said.
“I had considered that,” Caya said.
“Then if they find me, they will look no further,” she said.
“No!” Caya said. “We need you. I won’t let you turn yourself in to save us. If you do that, you seal our fate more surely than their swords ever could.”
“I am not suggesting that I give myself to them. I just want them to find me. We have one horse. Yours. These men are in full armor and are likely well-equipped, am I correct?” she offered.
“Very well-equipped. It might be weeks before they need to resupply,” Caya said.
“Then they are weighed down. If I go with no supplies and no armor, then I can certainly outrun them. All I need to do is let them see me, and then lead them away,” she said.
“But where will you go? The safe house? Myranda, the Undermine is in chaos after this attack. If you hope to find any sanctuary, I must be with you, or you will never be trusted,” Caya said.
“No safe house. If I take refuge with your people, then this will only happen again. Maybe in weeks, maybe months, but it will happen. I refuse to have my life be a burden upon you. Do you have a map?” she asked.
“Of course,” Wolloff said, revealing one and spreading it on the table, knocking the contents to the floor.
“We are here, correct?” Myranda asked.
The two others nodded in unison.
“Then it can’t be more than two days at full gallop to the eastern forest, Locke’s Forest,” she said.
“No horse, not even mine, could spend two hours, let alone two days at full gallop. The poor thing is dead on her feet as it is,” the Undermine leader warned.
“I’ve learned a few spells that should keep her moving,” Myranda said.
“Mmm. Full gallop . . . day and night . . . with no equipment . . . Perhaps you could make it in two days,” Caya conceded.
“Do the soldiers patrol Locke’s Forest well?” Myranda asked.
“They patrol it constantly,” she answered.
“But do they patrol it well?” Myranda asked again.
“That forest is a quarter the size and has at least as many trees as this one. I would wager to say there aren’t enough soldiers in the world to patrol something that dense well,” she said.
“Then that is where I will go,” she said. “I have Myn. She can hunt and start fires. I need no supplies to live. The forest is dense. If I stay alert, I know I can stay away from them.”
“Are you certain you want to do this? These are Elites. They will not give up. They will find you,” Caya warned.
“There can be no other way,” she said.
“Very well, then. I will tend to the horse. Wolloff, give her anything she needs,” Caya ordered.
“I have precious little for myself, you know,” Wolloff said.
“Now is not the time for selfishness, Wolloff. You will be reimbursed when the Undermine gets back on its feet,” she said.
“The Undermine has never been on its feet,” he said. He turned his head and looked unhappily at Myranda. “Come, time is wasting.”
He led Myranda through the door that had not opened since she had arrived. Unlike the other rooms, this one was meticulously clean. One side was much like a closet, hung with white robes like the one he wore. The other had numerous exquisite amulets and scepters. He carefully pulled a robe from the many and smoothed the wrinkles. He then selected a small, delicate locket. Finally he uncovered a small, sturdy chest that bore a lock, but no means to open it. He whispered a word or two and the works of the lock clicked open. Inside of the chest was a handful of gems far clearer and much larger than any to be found upstairs. A few more words and the locket unfolded like a flower blooming. He placed the gem inside. It clicked shut of its own accord.
“Put this on,” he said, holding out the robe.
She slid her arms through and pulled it shut. He then draped the locket about her neck.
“There. I bestow upon you the white robe of the healer. You know all that you need to undo the work of all but the most monstrous of plights. This locket will aid your focus. You hold the distinction of being the only student I have ever had to reach this level in less than five months--you’ve done it in three. Congratulations, you’ve set the bar quite high,” he said.
Caya returned, slamming the door.
“Wolloff, you are low on oats, barely enough for Wind Runner. Myranda, to the map. You need to plot out a course of action. This will be no normal chase. You need alternatives for every step of the way,” she decreed.
Myranda joined her by the table. They proceeded to trace out the course. It would be more or less a straight ride from forest to forest. There was a scattering of towns that would have to be avoided. Caya spoke in an endless string of orders and dictation. She was clearly a strong leader and knew just how to get things done. It was difficult to believe that minutes ago she was near death. Her devotion was admirable.
“What of the beast?” Caya said.
“Pardon?” Myranda replied.
“The dragon. We’ve yet to enter her into the equations. The success of your escape depends upon a minimally encumbered mount. The creature could add enough weight to give the Elites a chance to close the gap when my horse begins to tire,” Caya said.
“I have seen the beast run. She will keep up on her own,” Wolloff said.
“Fine. But I want to make this absolutely clear. If she falls behind you will leave her. Sentiment is death on the battlefield,” she said.
Myranda assured her that she would, but in her heart she knew she couldn’t. She prayed that she would not have to make that decision.
Within the hour the freshly anointed healer was astride the horse and headed toward the Elite, Caya’s voice still in her ears. She was to turn east with all of the speed that the steed could muster at the very instant she noticed even a hint of the plume atop the helmet of an Elite. Until then there was nothing to fill her time but a tense wait, and a few simple spells to restore her horse for the run. When she’d whispered the final spell, admiring the relative ease that new amulet provided, she turned to her companion. Myn sat on the ground beside her, still bearing the helmet in her teeth.
“Are you going to carry that with you for the entire trip? We will have to move very quickly. I hope you can keep up,” she said, eager to break the silence.
As an answer, Myn’s head shot up. She smelled the air and stood, dancing about anxiously. Myranda saw nothing, and heard only the tapping of icy rain on the needles of the trees. She climbed down from the horse and put her ear to the cold ground. Faintly, almost silently, she could hear--or, more accurately, feel--the steady beat of dozens of hooves. Myn scampered up a tree and trained her eyes on the south. Her keen sight must have caught something between the trees. Something she hated. The dragon leapt to the ground and streaked southward.
“Myn, no!” Myranda called out.
Her faithful friend skidded to a stop, and looked to her pleadingly, her eyes fairly begging to be allowed to do what her heart demanded of her, to get revenge on those that had taken something dear from her. Myranda looked her in the eyes.
“Myn, we cannot. Not now. Follow,” she said.
Reluctantly the dragon returned to her side, clamping her jaws onto the helmet as a replacement target. Myranda watched the trees in the distance. Soon the sound of hooves was booming in her ears. She wanted to run, but sh
e had to be sure that they followed her, and did not continue on to Wolloff’s tower. A minute more. A second more. A heartbeat more. Now!
One horse and rider came into view. It was a woman, it seemed, though her height and grace, even in the split-second that Myranda had seen her, betrayed her to be an elf. Myranda spurred her horse to the east. Myn ran beside her. She could match the speed of the horse with little effort, though carrying the helmet and glancing back at her pursuers regularly gave the dragon some difficulty.
The wind tore by them with twice the bite it would have had if they were standing still, and the rain and snow saturated them in minutes, but those were the least of her worries. Myranda turned every few moments, remembering more of the words of Caya.
If you have a chance to escape, you may not know immediately. Those men are riding war horses, bred for strength. Wind Runner is a messenger horse, bred for endurance. It will seem that they are keeping pace with you, and they may well be, but the sprint will wear down their horses quickly. The gap between you should start to widen quickly and suddenly. If it doesn’t, then you are done for.
Every few strides, Myranda judged the distance. Her heart pounded harder with each glance that didn’t show any headway. Finally, just when her own steed seemed at the brink of collapse, the followers seemed to stop entirely. Their horses broke stride and faltered. Even with Wind Runner slowing considerably, the Elites were out of sight within minutes.
Some relief came to Myranda, but not much. She knew that now the soldiers had seen her. They had followed her trail this far on descriptions alone. If she did not take every advantage she had at her disposal to keep her distance, they would be upon her. And so she continued to spur on her horse. The animal was exhausted and had not had a proper rest in days, but it had to continue, or they would both be caught.
When Wind Runner had run for the better part of three hours, it became clear that, despite her spells, the creature needed to rest. There was no sense destroying the beast now, or she would be stranded, and Myranda was little more than a novice in the ways of magic. Her own strength would need to be conserved as well. The Elites must have fallen an hour or more behind by now; perhaps she could risk some rest. A small stream, surrounded by the very most persistent of weeds, presented itself as the logical place for the group to catch their breath. The horse and dragon gulped at the water. She stood, stretching her legs and trying to keep the rain and ice from her eyes. Myn managed to snatch up a rabbit that foolishly wandered near while Wind Runner ate the weeds most greedily. Myranda had no food of her own, but the constant fear had left her without an appetite. She could not take her eyes off of the western horizon.