Rise of the Mages (Rise of the Mages 2) (8 page)

How to tell them about his discoveries? He didn’t want to alarm Dylan but owed them all the truth of the situation. Maybe someone would tell a joke or something. If everyone’s mood were light, it’d make the news easier. Best to wait.

As they ate and broke camp, however, everyone’s spirits remained low. No help for it. Xan urged Honey into their midst.

Dylan glared at him. “What do we do now, Brant? After this moron used magic last night, the catcher has to know exactly where we are. He’ll be on us in no time.”

“Maybe not,” Xan said. “The pages stated that ‘sensing magic is like hearing an animal in the woods. If it’s not loud, you won’t hear it over the surrounding noise. If it’s loud but only sounds for a second, you’ll know it’s there but can’t tell the direction. If you hear it repeatedly in a short time, you find it easily.’ And you have to be actively looking for magic to sense it.”

Lainey nodded. “So, unless the catcher was awake and looking for you to use magic at that exact time, he wouldn’t notice it.”

“And even if he did sense it, it only lasted a portion of a second,” Xan said. “He lacked the time to pinpoint the direction.”

“So we’re safe?” Dylan sounded hopeful.

Xan grimaced. “No. Turns out, we chose the right direction in trying to find Ashley.” He told them about sensing the flow of magic.

Brant glanced at the path behind them and nodded. “So even if the catcher can’t find our tracks, he’ll probably head straight this way trying to find her.”

“Exactly,” Xan said. “He’ll be right on our tail.”

There was no way for Xan to escape.

Ashley would be killed. His friends would be killed. He’d be killed.

No. He had to be positive. Brant knew military stuff; Dylan was an experienced traveler; and Lainey would keep them from killing each other. Together, they’d figure out something.

Best just to stop thinking about the future. Concentrate on the scenery.

Spiked towers of granite ascended to the heavens. Squirrels dashed across the path, seeking to add to winter stores. Changing leaves painted the canvas of the land with brilliant greens, yellows, and oranges.

And reds like his blood when the large, armed men caught him. Purples like Ashley’s face when they hung her.

Stop that!

He recited the potions contained in Tagha’s Compendium from last to first, followed by alphabetically. By the time he reached Cow Sore Affliction, his eyelids grew heavy, and no amount of violently shaking his head cleared the sleepiness.

If only he had seeds. No. Bad thought. He’d get by without them.

“You’re going to fall out of the saddle and break your neck,” Brant said.

Xan started. Where had Brant come from? “Justav is going to catch us.”

Brant grinned. “With me leading, failure is not an option.”

“Be serious. Do we really have a chance?”

Brant looked away. “If only your luck wasn’t so bad.” He shook his head. “To be chased by a guy who actually knows how to sense magic.”

“Since I was, you know, actually using magic, it stands to reason a deputized catcher would find me.”

Brant frowned. “That’s the thing. I don’t think being deputized means they have any special gift.”

“How the blast can that be?” Xan said. “Otherwise, what’s the difference between them and the charlatans your dad drives out of town?”

“Look, nobles train with us in the militia all the time, getting experience under their belts. In all my years, I’ve heard them argue loads about their next move. Is it best to join the army for the regular pay or hunt mages for bounty?”

“But only a tiny percentage of the population can be trained to sense …”

Brant looked at him like he was an idiot. Brant was right.

“Blasted idiot nobles!” Xan said. “Don’t they realize the danger?”

Brant stared at him blankly.

Xan ran his hand through his hair. “Bermau checks for mages in both Kaicia and Dastanar, right?”

Brant nodded.

“It works the same way for the other two kingdoms. It’s a check and balance to keep everyone from breaking the treaty,” Xan said. “But what if one kingdom uses catchers who can sense real mages, and the other two don’t?”

Brant’s eyes lit. “The one using the real catchers would kill all mages in the other two and not have their own killed.”

“Which means,” Xan said, “they’d be able to build an army of mages without anyone being the wiser.”

Brant let out a long, slow whistle.

“Dastanar has always been jealous of our wealth from mining and Kaicia’s from trade,” Xan said. “Our armies have always been larger, but what could we do if they attacked with magic?”

Dylan snorted from behind them. “You really think you’ve discovered a plot that neither Queen Anna nor Duke Asher, not to mention anyone else in the entire kingdom of Kaicia, has thought of?”

Xan ran his hand through his hair. Why did he have to keep reminding himself that he owed Dylan his life? “First, we’re just talking. Second, what part of that theory was outside of the realm of possibility?”

“Oh, I don’t know. All of it?”

Xan gritted his teeth. “If you’re too blind to see what’s in front of your face, there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“You’re justifying what you want to be true. If Bermau needs mages to counter Dastanar, then there’s no reason to kill you for being one, right? In fact, you’ll be a hero.” Dylan shook his head. “Face the fact that our only option is to run far and fast and hope the catcher loses interest before he finds us.”

As Dylan dropped back, Xan sputtered. He wasn’t just justifying, was he? His conclusions were logical, weren’t they?

He went back over the logic of his argument and found no holes. His head nodded. It would be so nice just to sleep. To see Ashley.

Xan shook his head. Neither examining his logic nor pining for Ashely accomplished anything. He practiced detecting magic for the rest of the afternoon, a frustrating endeavor since he sensed exactly none. At least, he got quicker at accessing the source.

The sun dipped low on the horizon, and Brant again dropped back from his lead position. “Want me to stop so you can get some rest?”

Absolutely, but what Xan wanted didn’t account for much. “We should ride as far as possible. Every step we put between us and Justav counts.”

They continued until the low light made going hazardous, finally stopping at a widening of the trail that had no water or vegetation and few trees. Despite chilly night air, they kept the fire to a minimum to avoid possible detection. Dylan and Lainey stole off to bed after eating cold rations while Brant offered to keep Xan company.

He didn’t bother refusing. The diversion would help him stay awake. “You never answered me earlier. Will we make it?”

“Definitely.” Though darkness obscured the trail just a few feet away, Brant stared back at the way they’d come. “The militia tracks outlaws and deserters all the time. We captured this guy once who ended up getting loose during the night. Spent a mess of time trying to find his tracks and more picking through the places of every friend and relative of his.” He nodded. “Even with the catcher having a good guess which way we’d head, I figure he stayed around Eagleton for at least a day.”

So optimistic. Brant thought a caning at the hands of his father was the worst possible outcome in life. Xan knew better. Mothers can get sick and die. Fathers can waste away from heartbreak.

What Xan didn’t know was how long the journey to find Ashley would be, and they had no chance of losing Justav until they reached her. How much faster were the catcher’s horses?

Xan let out a long breath. “You should have let me run off on my own.”

Brant smiled. “I needed to leave town anyway. I’ve dated every girl who’s not taken besides Corina.”

“Yeah. Good thing this whole mess with me getting arrested happened. Wouldn’t want you to have to start in on the married ones.”

“Exactly. Nasty business, that. I’d hate to have to kill an angry husband.”

He was joking, wasn’t he?

Xan sighed. “How do you do it anyway? Becca Smith?”

Ashley had shown him mild affection, which was better than hatred or, worse, indifference. But how could he get from that to something that even approached love.

Brant stirred the fire’s embers in an absent manner. “An average girl is easy. Convince her she’s beautiful, and—”

“You say that like it’s an easy thing!”

“Picture a pretty girl washing clothes in the creek on a spring day,” Brant said. “What would you do?”

Heat rose to Xan’s face. Had Brant found out about that incident with Corina? Hopefully not. Surely not.

Xan shuddered at the thought. She’d been doing exactly that. He’d stammered an offer to assist and ended up spending an hour with his arms to his elbows in stinging soap and frigid water after she skipped away.

Brant nodded as if he knew exactly Xan’s unspoken response. “With an average girl, dig in and help. While you’re working, flatter her. Tell her how you can lose yourself in her eyes and other crap like that. Hang on her every word. Follow up with flowers or whatever, and you’re in.”

That was exactly how Xan treated every girl he’d been interested in, and it had never worked.

“The pretty ones on the other hand …” Brant grinned. “Walk up to the creek like you don’t notice she’s there. Scoop a double handful of water right in her face.” He paused. “Better, pour a bucket over her head.”

Xan pictured splashing Ashley. Nope. Wasn’t going to happen.

“It’s like a sword fight,” Brant said. “You have to keep her off balance, confused.”

It made no sense to Xan. How could you win a girl by treating her badly? The idea of a gift, however, made sense. But what? Xan mulled over the question as he and Brant talked.

A couple of hours passed, and Brant’s yawns and glances at his bedroll increased until Xan finally said, “Go to sleep, man. No use the both of us being miserable.”

“Guess I do need to keep my eyes clear for the trail,” Brant said. “You sure you’ll be okay?”

If everyone would just stop worrying about him. “Know anything about whittling?”

Brant looked at him funny. “Not much. Why?”

Heat rose to Xan’s face again. “Guy’s got to do something to pass the time.”

Brant retrieved a small, leather-sheathed knife from near his bedroll. “There’s a knife in your saddlebag. It’s as dull as shit.” He grinned. “Safer that way.”

Xan glared, trying to mimic Lainey. Brant just laughed and instructed him to use the dull one for the rough cut and the sharp one for the details. After the two exchanged goodnight wishes, Xan sawed on a dead limb a few inches in diameter until he’d cut out a section about a quarter-inch thick. For most of the rest of the night, he carved the wood into a roughly triangular shape that kind of resembled an oak leaf.

If you squinted and held it at arm’s length.

And there wasn’t much light.

Maybe he should buy something for Ashley when they found a town. That’s what Dylan and Brant would tell him to do. Lainey, though, would probably advise that the time he spent on it was more valuable than money spent for finery.

Xan sighed and stuck it in his pocket.

With dawn fast approaching, he sat to practice connecting to the magic source for a while before starting breakfast. He achieved the connection within a few minutes but sensed no magic use.

While he floated in the source, the campfire drew his attention. Viewed through the magic, the fire glowed red in a way entirely different from the physical flame. It called to him through the connection like he was a moth.

He explored further and felt something inside his body. Food turning into energy. Neat.

Not only could he increase and decrease the energy of chemical reactions, he could sense them. He turned toward Brant but couldn’t detect his friend’s food digesting. Same with Lainey and Dylan.

Odd.

He quested for other fires, starting toward the northeast. A long while passed, and a weak smattering drew his attention. It was like seeing lights in the distance; unlike the campfire, they felt dim and indistinct. A village lay in that direction about a week’s ride away if his friends knew what they were talking about.

Xan turned back toward Eagleton expecting, based on the time required to encounter the fires to the northeast, a few minutes to pass before he sensed anything. Instead, he quickly felt, sharp and clear, a large fire.

Xan shook Brant’s shoulder.

“What—”

Xan put his hand over Brant’s mouth. “Wake the others, but be quiet.”

He rushed back to the campfire and kicked dirt over it, plunging the campsite into darkness. “Blast it.”

As the others rose, he dug a flint and striker from his saddlebags and managed to get a torch lit. He propped it against a rock and threw his saddle over Honey’s back. At a tap on his shoulder, he turned around.

Brant held his sword ready. “What's going on? Where’s the threat?”

“A campfire,” Xan said. “Get mounted.”

Brant peered both behind and ahead on the trail. “My night vision is shot to shit, but I should be able to spot a fire. Where is it?”

Lainey and Dylan, both carrying their bedrolls, gathered around them.

“I don't know for sure,” Xan said. “Several hours back?”

“You don't know!” Brant shook his head. “You wake me like we're under attack, and you don't know?”

“I sensed it with magic.” Xan turned back to Honey and grabbed one of the saddle straps.

“You want us to ride in blackness and risk going off a cliff just because you imagined there's a camp somewhere behind us?” Dylan said. “I don't think so.”

Xan spun. “Believe what you want and do what you want. There is a large campfire behind us, and I'm riding on.”

“Fine,” Dylan said. “I'm staying.”

“Great.” Xan turned and finished buckling the strap.

“Xan,” Brant said, “he's right. We can't ride in the dark. One misstep and it's a long fall.”

“Then we move slowly while holding a torch.”

“And that will gain us, what, a half hour on them at best?” Dylan said. “Not worth the risk.”

Xan threw his bags over Honey's back and put his foot in the stirrup. “That's a half hour we’d pay any price for when they catch us.”

“We're coming with you,” Lainey said.

“Lai—”

“Dylan, I said we're coming.”

Her pronouncement settled the matter, though Dylan didn't look happy about it. A few minutes later, they were all mounted, and Brant, leaning forward and holding the torch, led them onto the moonlit trail.

Xan kept Honey's nose within inches of Brant's horse. “Can't you go any faster?”

“No.”

A few minutes later, Brant slowed further. What was the idiot doing? Spear gathered his feet and leapt. Honey followed.

Oh crap!

Xan’s stomach dropped. He hugged Honey’s neck. They landed with a jolt and kept moving.

What had they crossed? On second thought, he really didn’t want to know.

Xan quested through the magic. The large fire still burned. That was good at least. They gained ground every step they moved, but as soon as the fire went out, Justav’s faster horses would catch up.

He gripped the reins tight and almost wished he believed in prayer.

The moonlight only let him see the vaguest of shapes in the surroundings, but in the next minute, rocks and trees began to appear. Dawn. It wouldn’t be long before they could travel full speed.

Or before Justav could as well.

Less than a half hour later, the large fire disappeared.

They ate cold rations in the saddles for both breakfast and lunch and pushed the pace as fast as they could. Shortly after noon, they reached a spot where a trail led down a steep slope to their right.

Brant halted. “This is our last chance to hit the low road. The high passes are another day and a half away.” He pointed out the gray sky. “And weather is moving in.”

If a storm blew in and blocked the passes, they’d have to backtrack, and with Justav right on their tail, they didn’t have anywhere near three days to waste. Xan ran his hand through his hair. “The three of you take this trail. I'll keep on straight.” He’d use magic to draw Justav’s attention. The catcher would follow him and let the others get away.

Lainey glared at him.

“Not this again,” Dylan said.

“You're only with me because you think I'll be caught and squeal,” Xan said. “Guess what? If you stay with me, all four of us are going to be caught. At least this way, the three of you have a chance.”

Brant moved his horse next to Honey and thwacked Xan on the back of the head. “Lack of morale has lost more battles than being outnumbered and out-equipped ever did. We're not caught yet.”

Xan threw his hands toward the sky. “What do you suggest we do? They're faster than us. We counted on having enough of a lead to get away cleanly, but we don’t. At this rate, we’ll be lucky if they’re not within sight in a couple of days.”

Brant shrugged. “If we can't outrun them, we'll fight. I've got my sword. Dylan and Lainey have bows. You can learn magic. We’re not helpless.”

“No! We won’t kill anyone.” Lainey glared at both Brant and Xan.

“I will not allow him to use magic!” Dylan shouted over her.

“What choice do we have?” Xan rubbed his temples against an oncoming headache. “We're dead if we don't do something.”

Before anyone could object, he met Lainey's eyes. “I won't let them take us without a fight.” He turned to Dylan. “And that means using magic. If any of you don't like it, take that trail. I'm going ahead.”

“You're sure that's the best route? Sure enough to bet all our lives?” Brant stared significantly at Lainey.

Xan urged Honey forward. “We have no shot of outrunning them. If we're two weeks just getting to civilization, they'll catch us for sure. The passes will get us to a town faster, and maybe we can throw them off our track.”

“But if we can’t get through,” Brant said, “we're doomed.”

Xan looked at the path behind them. “Then we're doomed either way.”