Rise of the Mages (Rise of the Mages 2) (7 page)

Xan shook his head. Everything seemed to come so easy for Brant. Girls. Fighting. Horses. He’d just put two fingers in his mouth and whistled, and Honey had come running.

“Now that you’ve led us into the middle of the forest, genius, what’s your plan?” Brant said.

Xan scowled. It had been for his friends to run far and fast in the opposite direction. Brant only saw the excitement. Lainey felt she’d be abandoning him. And Dylan somehow was convinced the safest course was for all of them to stay together.

Since he couldn’t get rid of them, he owed them an explanation. “I have a quest.”

Brant’s eyes twinkled. “This, I’ve got to hear.”

“Yes,” Dylan said. “Please. Let’s hear your newest idea for getting us all killed.”

Did he have to be so negative about everything? But he had put his life on the line already, and Xan owed him big.

“I have to rescue a girl from catchers.”

Brant grinned. Dylan frowned.

“The girl from your dreams?” Lainey said.

“She’s real.” Xan stared at his sister. If anyone would understand, it would be her. “And she needs my help.” The story of the last three weeks, minus the embarrassing parts, tumbled from him.

“Okay,” Brant said, “I’m in. Where is she?”

Xan hunched his shoulders. “That’s the thing. I don’t know.”

Dylan waved his hand to get their attention. “Let me make sure I got it. You want us to find a girl somewhere in the three kingdoms. That’s an enormous area. You know that, right?” He paused and stared at Xan.

“Dylan—”

“Let me finish.” Dylan’s face tightened. “Not only do we not know where she is, but those catchers you mentioned—you know the ones in addition to those chasing us—are surely going to reach her first. If we can find her and if she hasn’t already been hanged, we’d have to get her away from guardsmen. Without any help this time.” He barked a sarcastic laugh. “Sure. No problem.”

Lainey shot Dylan a cold look. “It sounds silly beyond imagining—”

“You should all go home then!” Xan said.

She made a patting gesture. “Calm down. You didn’t let me finish. If it’s what you have to do, I’m in. You’re my brother.”

Dylan wrung his hands.

The clearing struggled to hold Brant as he paced. “Let’s get started.” He turned to his horse.

“Where?” Dylan said.

Brant stopped. “What?”

“You’re about to rush off. Where are you going?”

Brant hesitated.

“You have no idea because we have no idea how to find this girl!”

Xan hunched his shoulders again. “If Justav can sense the dream, I can learn to as well. I can use magic to find her.”

Dylan kicked a tree, and his face twisted in pain. “Learn? As in, you have no idea what you’re doing now? And every time you try ‘learning’ you chance drawing this catcher right to us all the while we’re rushing headlong toward another group of them? Just great!”

“If you don’t like my decision, leave!”

“Fine.” Dylan stalked to his horse and put his foot in the stirrup.

“Stop and think,” Lainey called. “You’re just going to abandon your friends? Pretend like none of this ever happened?”

He hesitated.

“Friends stick together. It wouldn’t be the same without you.” Brant grinned, and his teeth glowed in the moonlight. “Like we always say, if we’re going to jump off a cliff, I’m the one leading.”

Xan couldn’t keep the ends of his lips from curling upward. “I point out the best way to avoid the rocks and follow after you.”

“I shout, ‘C’mon Dylan,’ and jump right in,” Lainey said.

Dylan sighed and lowered his foot back to the ground. “And I say how really, really stupid the thought of cliff diving is in the first place but do it anyway.” He faced them. “We can’t stay here, and we still have no idea where to go now.”

They all turned to Xan, who took a moment to think. “Excluding going toward the tribes, the only two ways out of town are northeast toward Escon and Kaicia or east to Asherton and Dastanar. Three times as many people lay to the northeast, which means it’s three times more likely she’s along that route.”

“Sounds good,” Brant said, “but do we take the high passes or the low road? The mountains cut off a lot of distance, but if they’re snowed in, we’d have to turn back.”

“How much time difference are we talking?” Xan said.

Dylan sighed again. “It’s three days to get to the Shrew’s Fingers. Maybe two if we push hard from first light to sundown every day. It’s too dangerous to travel in darkness once we enter the high country.”

“Call it three days then,” Xan said. “We’ll need to quit riding a few hours before full dark, so I can rest before Ashley goes to sleep.”

Dylan rubbed his temples. “Three days to the passes, two across the range, and another three to meet back up with the low road. The other route would take a few weeks minimum.”

“What are the odds the passes will be clear?” Xan said.

“The mountain tops are already covered, but it’s early in the season. We should have no problem,” Brant said.

“That ‘should’ is a big deal, though,” Dylan said. “If the snow is too deep to get through, we’d have wasted a lot of time.”

Brant nodded. “The catcher will pick up our trail at some point, too. If we have to backtrack …”

“And what if we take the slow route, and they get through the passes? Justav could end up waiting for us on the other side.” Xan looked to Brant to make the decision.

“Your quest, your call.”

Xan paused. Either decision risked getting his friends killed.

He didn’t know if Ashley would keep dreaming even though he wasn’t asleep to meet her but had to assume she would. The catchers could find her at any time.

“The high passes.” Xan could only hope he’d made the right decision.

Xan wanted to scream. In fact, he would scream if Dylan made just one more snide comment. Neither speeding nor slowing Honey helped, either; Dylan just kept pace to stay right beside him.

“Have you ever heard of the Wizard’s War?” Dylan’s voice dripped sarcasm. “Remember what they taught us about the devastation, how many people died, how many entire towns were turned to blighted spots where even now nothing grows?”

“Please, I’m begging you. Let it go!” Leaving everything Xan knew behind was hard enough.

“I’m going to keep talking until I beat some measure of sense into you. Magic is dangerous. It’s outlawed for a reason.”

If that was the way Dylan wanted it, Xan would show him reason. “The nobles caused the war.”

Dylan looked as if Xan had said the sky was green.

“Remember who wrote the history we learned in school,” Xan said. “You can’t trust everything those books tell you.”

“And, of course, you have access to better information.”

“Master Rae does.”

Dylan threw up his hands.

“Nobles feared the mages’ power,” Xan said, “so they placed more and more restrictions on them. Laws prohibited a magic user from traveling from one town to another without applying for a permit. Outlawed mages getting married, having children. Wouldn’t you rebel under those conditions?”

“The Eagle fought on the side of the nobles. He agreed with the laws.” Dylan called ahead to Brant and Lainey, “Tell him I’m right.”

“He fought because he didn’t agree with the Lion taking rule,” Xan said. “I’ve read copies of the Eagle’s letters that aren’t archived in the library. He believed King Andrew bungled the situation horribly and blamed the nobles as much as he did the Lion.”

“He did not!” Dylan yelled.

Brant fell back and inserted himself between the two of them. “I don’t know much about magic, but the law never made sense to me.”

“How so?” Dylan said.

“The law is supposed to be because magic users are too powerful, right?” Brant said. “The accounts of the war don’t discuss tactics much, but I figured some stuff out. An arrow will kill the strongest mage. They can be sneak-attacked or assassinated. In battle though, one could take out scores of well-armed soldiers.”

“You’re proving my point,” Dylan said.

“Let me finish,” Brant said. “During the Battle of Hunton Creek, a single mage destroyed two entire battalions of heavy cavalry. Though he eventually wore down and a spear through the gut killed him, only a few sent against him survived.

“At Rutler’s Field, a mage from the Eagle’s side and five of his guards went up against an enemy mage who was supposed to be more powerful. The Lion’s lackey got run through with a sword without killing any soldiers. See?”

Dylan shook his head.

“A single fighter can take out a mage if he’s occupied.” Brant took a swig of water from his wineskin. “Having magic users on both sides makes each less important. They counter each other.” He paused. “In today’s world, though, a lone mage is considered a huge threat worthy of sending thirty trained men after. Doesn’t that prove the law is stupid?”

Dylan rolled his eyes. “So what, we’re going to overthrow three governments and establish new laws? I’m sure the four of us will have no problem accomplishing that.”

Xan ran his hand through his hair. “If that’s what it takes!” He took a deep breath. “Look, They want to kill me just because I’ve gained a measure of power. I don’t want to die. Is that so wrong?”

“If I thought you deserved death, I wouldn’t be here, but it’s the law, Xan. What are we if we don’t follow it?”

“You propose what then?”

“Let the magic go. Brant, Lainey, and I will keep you alive. We’ll even help you find this girl.” Dylan’s voice changed from angry to pleading.

Xan frowned. Knowledge was good, no matter the subject, but in the case of magic, did it put his friends in more danger? “Sensing Ashley dreaming is the only way to find her. Lay off until I figure out how to do that, and I promise to stop there.”

Dylan agreed, albeit reluctantly, and he and Brant rode ahead to leave Xan to his thoughts.

The sun, still below the horizon, announced the coming dawn with a glow to the east, and the landscape brightened with each passing minute. After another quarter hour of riding up an inclined trail, a sliver of the light broke the horizon to their right. Further up the mountain, the path cut sharply to the left into deep shadows.

“Once we pass that boulder,” Brant said, “we’ll be in view of the town. No one will likely be pointing a glass up here, but it could happen. Hug the cliff and ride fast.”

When he passed the stone, he increased his pace to a fast trot.

In the valley, darkness obscured much of Eagleton even as the slumbering town stretched its arms. Lights appeared in windows as the citizens woke and lit their lamps. What was Justav doing? Surely, he was fooled by the measures Brant had taken. The guardsmen would waste a day, maybe more, searching for tracks. With that kind of lead, Xan and his friends should be able to escape.

With Brant’s skill at soldiering, Dylan’s knowledge of traveling, and Lainey’s way of keeping them from all killing each other, they’d make it to Ashley. They had to.

What about those huge horses Justav’s men rode, though? Compared to Honey’s plodding pace, they’d fly over the terrain. And guardsmen made their living tracking their quarry. Xan shouldn’t have made that promise to Dylan. If they were found, magic might be his only chance.

And what did it mean that Justav could sense magic? Master Rae had admitted having magical ability, which implied one had to be a mage to determine if the potential existed in another. It seemed logical that sensing magic use was similar to sensing potential. Did that mean Justav was a mage?

Had the nobles lied about everything?

Xan’s head tilted toward the ground, and his body started to follow. He jerked awake and flailed his hands until he caught hold of the pommel. His heart thudding as he righted himself.

The third time he’d nodded off. The third time he’d almost fallen.

Brant, Dylan, and Lainey rode together a dozen yards ahead, all napping on and off. None of them seemed to have any problems. Xan was the one who needed sleep the most. Why did he have to be the one so supremely uncoordinated he couldn’t manage dozing while riding?

He nudged Honey faster until he caught the others. “How much of a lead do we have on Justav?”

“Days.” Brant grinned. “Picking up our tracks isn’t going to be easy.”

By the sun’s position, it was late afternoon.

“Let’s stop soon, then.” Xan had to get some rest, and the few measly hours he was going to get before nightfall seemed scant to see him through the next day.

Dylan glared at him. “Regardless of what Mr. Overconfident over there thinks, we should push as far as possible. Are you sure you can’t sleep at night?”

“I wish, but if I dream with Ashley, it’ll be like lighting a signal fire for Justav. And it would make me even more tired.”

“There’s no way to stop it?”

Xan shrugged. “Sorry.”

Dylan rubbed his temples. “This just keeps getting better.”

Less than an hour later, Brant found a campsite. “This is perfect.” He pointed at surrounding cliffs, obviously pleased with himself. “We’re shielded all around, so we don’t have to worry about anyone seeing our fire. There’s grass for soft beds and a stream for fresh water.”

The blowhard was getting way too full of himself, and Xan should, as was his moral obligation as a friend, knock him down a peg or two. He just couldn’t find enough energy to care, though. While the others tended the horses, he collapsed onto his bedroll.

A hand on his shoulder woke him, and he opened bleary eyes to see Lainey’s face in the light from the campfire.

How long had he been out? Seconds? All he wanted was a few more minutes.

But the full black of night painted the sky. She shouldn’t have let him sleep as long as she did.

Lainey stifled a yawn and half heartedly suggested she keep him company. She looked as miserable as he felt.

How was he going to stay awake all night alone? He almost accepted her offer. “It’s going to be a rough week. Get some rest.”

Lainey turned and stopped frozen in mid motion for a moment. She shuddered and continued as if nothing had happened.

What had caught her attention? Nothing stood out in the shadows, but something definitely troubled her. Should he ask?

It was late, and she needed sleep.

Ahh. Sleep.

Xan closed his eyes. How long had he been awake? A full day, with the exception of bits of dozing and the last couple of hours.

It would feel so good to lie back down.

No. That would lead Justav right to them. Rest was not worth the lives of Ashley or his friends.

Brant and Dylan’s snores taunted him from across the campsite. Xan had to do something.

Pacing the site didn’t help much. Bad idea or not, he needed the seeds. Maybe someone had packed the contents of his work bag. He dragged his saddlebags to the fire and searched, finding all manner of apothecary supplies but no seeds.

“Probably for the best.”

It was just so easy to think when he took the drug. Xan liked the feeling—a good sign it was time to stop using it. He contented himself with chewing a pinch of shaved variegation bark.

Another bag yielded a coin pouch with ten triads and another gold’s worth of silver. Even if he had worked in Eagleton for another ten years, he wouldn’t earn that much. Who had ever heard of a starter gift that large? Master Rae had given him enough to open a shop.

At least, Xan had options. Either settle as an apothecary somewhere or learn to use magic and see where that life took him. He sighed and pulled out the ream of paper on magic instruction.

Some of the sections were well-nigh incomprehensible. Like one that read:

Others seemed more straightforward:

Excerpts written in different hands continued on papers of varying size. Though he found the material mostly irrelevant, Xan read for hours, pausing only to add wood to the fire when needed, because the parts that did apply fascinated him. He made it halfway through before growing frustrated at the lack of specifics.

All the references regarding how to use magic were vague at best. Like:

Great. Exactly what he needed if he were trying to learn how not to do magic.

Better, but Xan had no memory of his Surge other than that it happened.

Another hour of reading yielded absolutely nothing of any substance, and he could barely keep his eyes open. The only way he was going to learn magic was to try it. He used the campfire to light one end of a small stick. Just make the fire go out. That’s all he wanted to do.

But what could Justav sense? Would even a tiny experiment give Xan’s position away? There was also his promise to Dylan to consider.

Xan ran his hand through his hair. He had to find Ashley. She could be trying to dream to him at that moment, drawing a catcher closer by the second. If he didn’t get to her soon, she’d be hanged.

To find her, he had to sense her dreaming, and using magic surely would bring him closer to sensing it. Okay. The justification was flimsy, but technically, it didn’t break the spirit of his agreement with Dylan. Which left Justav sensing the experiment.

Xan shrugged. Even if the catcher had the ability to detect an insignificant use of magic, he’d probably be asleep.

So, what to do next? How did Xan concentrate on the flow of magic? Xan visualized the flame dying. Nothing happened. He tried again. And again. After a good half hour of trying to make the fire do anything at all, he discarded the stick.

Ashley’s life depended on him. “I’ve got to get this.”

If he could just remember what the magic felt like. He searched his mind much like he used his tongue to feel around his mouth. A weird bulge.

Xan lit another stick on fire. The flickering mesmerized him. He nudged the odd protuberance. His mind split. Part of him remained plain old Xan, grounded in reality. The other became a conduit to unimaginable energy.

Grow.

The bulge exploded open.

Power flowed through him. Power filled him. Power became him.

A fireball erupted from the branch, and a wave of heat forced him back. He stumbled and fell, landing on his backside with a hard thud.

The pain distracted him, and he lost the connection to the magic. Emptiness replaced the power, and the flame on the stick died back to its previous level, but the light diminished only a little.

Xan looked up. The canopy of leaves and limbs above him blazed.

“Blast it!” He scrambled to his feet and carried the cookpot to the stream. By the time he got back, the fire had doubled in size.

Brant, still rubbing at sleep-crusted eyes, yelled, “What the rads happened?”

Xan hunched his shoulders. “Fireball.”

Dylan glared at him. “You used magic? You untrustworthy, lying, worthless piece of horse dung.”

Brant seized the pot from Xan’s hand and sent water flying. A tiny portion of the blaze died. “Figure out how to put out a fire.”

A burning limb gave way and swung downward. It collided with the branches below it, setting those aflame as well. A mass of dead leaves caught, and that crackling added to the low roar.

Xan had to get the thing stopped before he announced their presence to the entire duchy. He focused on his desire to extinguish the fire. Nothing happened.

While Dylan stamped out embers that fell to the ground, Brant sprinted to the stream with the pot followed by Lainey, who held a pan.

It was Xan’s fault. He had to do something. Where was the magic source? What had it felt like? His body shook with effort. As his friends dashed back and forth claiming small victories, he concentrated uselessly.

Brant’s arms propelled water to the upper reaches of the canopy. Dylan, using the pan, targeted the worst portions. Lainey climbed the tree and smothered the flames on the lower branches with a horse blanket. A half hour later, the three gathered breathlessly under the smoking branches while Xan stood to the side.

“That got it,” Brant said.

Dylan pointed to a section that glowed faintly orange. “What about there?”

“It’s fine.” Brant yawned. “Xan can throw another bucket on it if it flares.”

Dylan snorted. “Like I’d trust him to do even that much.”

“Fine,” Brant said. “You keep watch. I’m going back to sleep.”

As Brant and Lainey returned to their bedrolls, Dylan glared at Xan.

“Look, man,” Xan said. “I’m sor—”

“Just shut up.”

Dylan had every right to be mad; Xan had put them all in danger. Not only had he almost started a forest fire, but anyone could have seen the flames. And the fireball had used way too much magic. If Justav were paying attention, he couldn’t have helped but sense it.

Xan returned to poring over the pages and, hours later at the bottom of the stack, discovered a portion of an instruction manual for catchers. The section detailed the way to determine a person’s magic potential, how to get that person to surge, and how to sense magic.

Why would the manual for officially sanctioned catchers give detailed instruction on surging?

Xan clenched his hands. Proof that the nobles trained mages.

Every decision the nobles made served to add to their wealth and power. Sure, Duke Asher paid for a militia in Eagleton to defend against attacks from the tribes, but that militia served as a training ground for his army. When it came to rebuilding the palisade, not only did the duke not make it a priority, he seized the money the town saved for its construction.

Why would the nobles do anything different in regards to magic? Support that which benefits them. Destroy what benefits only the people. Train their own kind born with ability while killing any peasant who dared seize the tiniest bit of control.

Xan shook his head and read on.

The next section revealed that, out of every hundred people, two or three possessed innate magical ability. Most of those could connect to the source but lacked the ability to control the flow, leaving them only able to sense use and potential. The remaining small sliver of the population was a mage—one who can use magic to manipulate energy.

Xan wanted to slap his forehead. What a blasted idiot! It clearly wasn’t illegal merely to have a connection. To be sentenced to death, one must be able to manipulate magic.

There’d be no reprieve by revealing a vast conspiracy by the nobles. That plot didn’t exist. On the plus side, if sensing didn’t require flow, Justav couldn’t detect Xan experimenting with it. He glanced across the fire. Dylan’s eyes were closed and his chin planted firmly against his chest.

Xan focused on finding the bulge in his mind and, after a good half hour, finally sensed it. He quested toward it. The protuberance led to a tunnel connecting him to the magic source, and he flowed through it to an ocean of pure power, just like the pages had indicated. He examined the boundaries looking for outward flows that indicated use but found nothing.

Xan sighed. He’d hoped that Ashley would be dreaming. If she wasn’t, how would he ever find her?

Perhaps, she was already awake. Perhaps, she didn’t stay in the dream if he weren’t there with her. Perhaps, he had no blasted idea what he was doing.

He sighed and quested again into the vast ocean. A half hour later, dawn approached. A hole opened at the edge, and a burst of power surged out exactly like the manual had described.

Ashley!

Considering the penalty, there couldn’t be many people using magic. The surge had to be her. He grinned. Soon, he’d be with her soon.

His physical body faced almost due north. When he turned, the ocean and the flow maintained their orientation, allowing him to determine the real world bearing. Northeast.

All in all, it had been a productive night, the screw-up with the fireball notwithstanding. Xan prepared breakfast, rousing his friends to the smells of bacon frying on a flat rock and honey-sweetened porridge bubbling in the cook pot.