The Mage of Trelian (31 page)

“Calen,” Serek said, “you have to calm down. We have more immediate problems.”

Calen stared at him incredulously. “
Nothing
is more important than —”

“Krelig is here,” Serek said, looking past him. “And I didn’t say more important; I said more immediate.”

Calen turned back to look out over the wall. Somehow he hadn’t even noticed Krelig at first. He was standing right there, surrounded by his band of traitors. Calen found himself searching for red hair and forced himself to stop. Helena was dead, and he knew it. He focused on Krelig instead. This was it, then. This was where it was all going to end. Where Krelig was going to be paid back for everything.

Or where they were all going to die.

“You warned everyone about being transported, right?” he asked Serek.

Serek nodded. The other mages had all emerged by this point, and they lined the battlement in a grim row. There were eighty-five of them now, counting the twenty-one new arrivals that Meg had delivered so far and including two apprentices, both of whom were younger than Calen himself.

The last of the castle folk who had been outside when the slaarh appeared had vanished into the castle, except for the serving boy, who still lay motionless, maybe dead, on the far side of the barrier. The slaarh shifted restlessly, pawing at the ground and occasionally snapping at one another. Otherwise, everything was still. Krelig’s mages stood in a ragged double line, staring up at them. At this distance, there was no way Calen could really feel Krelig’s gaze meet his own, but somehow he felt sure that they were looking right at each other.

Suddenly Krelig’s voice rang out from below, amplified to painful volume.

“Send down the boy!” he shouted. “Send him down to be punished, and perhaps we will let the rest of you live.”

“Be ready,” Serek said to the mages along the wall, in a low but carrying voice. “He knows we won’t send Calen down there.”

After a minute, Krelig sighed in false regret. “No? Are you certain? Perhaps you only need some encouragement.”

He raised his arm, and the slaarh all screamed their terrible, soul-piercing screams. It took everything Calen had not to clap his hands over his ears. Instead he cast a small spell of protection, filtering out the worst of the sound. He saw several others along the wall doing the same.

Then the slaarh all surged forward, lurching with horrible speed toward the castle.

The barrier must be spelled to allow Krelig’s side to pass through unharmed, Calen realized. It was still there; he could see it, but the slaarh didn’t hesitate, and it didn’t have any apparent effect on them as they crossed over. He was sure, though, that it would still be perfectly solid if Meg or Jakl tried to pass through. He hoped the mages with Meg were paying attention. If they ever showed up at all.

Calen heard answering cries from below, and then the Trelian and Kragnir soldiers were spilling forth from the gates, running to meet the enemy.

Krelig and his mages stood still, the slaarh parting around them on either side in their attack.

“Hold,” Serek said to the others. “This part is not for us.”

It was hard just to stand there and watch, though. The first wave of Trelian and Kragnir soldiers were on foot, the second on horseback, and the slaarh tore through them indiscriminately. Calen thought of the poison that coated the monsters’ claws and teeth. The soldiers’ armor would protect them a little, but probably not enough. Archers fired from the walls above and below, but while a few of the slaarh’s handlers fell to arrows, the creatures themselves appeared impervious. They needed magic to fight those things. Magic and Meg’s dragon. But the mages had to save their strength for Krelig, and Meg and her dragon were still nowhere to be seen.

“Now,” Krelig’s voice boomed at them from the ground. “Send down the boy.”

He couldn’t really expect that Serek would comply, but he still waited as though giving them time to change their minds. The mages on both sides stood in stony silence as the battle raged on around them.

“As you wish, then,” Krelig said finally. Calen didn’t think he sounded all that sorry. “We will take him from you.”

Krelig began walking forward, the traitor mages walking behind him, spread out to either side. The magic barrier
shifted,
moving with them and changing shape to encompass the castle and the area immediately before it, but leaving the slaarh and the soldiers outside its boundary. Calen saw it actually push some confused soldiers aside as it moved. And then the mages were standing below them, looking up. Too late, Calen realized he’d been too distracted by the barrier and the soldiers to pay attention to the mages themselves. His eyes sought out Krelig’s hands and saw red energy gathering around them.

“He’s about to cast!” Calen shouted to the others.

And then suddenly there were colors everywhere, as everyone started casting at once.

Serek had grouped all his mages into teams of three or four during the previous days, and had quickly matched the new mages with existing pairs or groups as they arrived. Everyone but Calen. He’d tried working together with Serek and Anders, but he always saw the colors early, and they were always a step behind. Finally Serek had agreed that Calen should just cast on his own.

The teams let the mages cast with greater strength and power than any of them would have alone. They took turns leading, the others in each team joining their magic to the leader’s, who directed the spell. There were more of them than there were of Krelig’s mages, but his were better trained and, Calen was fairly certain, more powerful overall. And definitely more ruthless.

The truth of this became apparent almost at once. Someone cried out to Calen’s right, and he turned to see two other mages staring at the empty space where their partner had been. Then they all heard the scream as the missing mage reappeared in the middle of the battling sea of slaarh. There was no chance for any of them to help. He went down, his screams abruptly silenced as one of the creatures tore off his head.

Mage Xanda, the one who had first cried out, now screamed her companion’s name. “Focus!” Serek shouted at her. “And the rest of you, keep your guard up! For gods’ sake, we were warned about the transporting! If you’re going to be bested, at least let it be for something you shouldn’t have already known to protect yourself against.”

Maybe now they’ll take this seriously,
the voice in Calen’s head said grimly. He hated thinking that way, hated the coldness of that thought, but he knew it was justified. They still hadn’t really believed that the other mages could have turned so far against them. Maybe now they did.

A burst of red and blue energy exploded against his shield, and Calen realized that he needed to take Serek’s advice himself.
Focus.
He knew better than anyone how important that was. And he had a specific goal to accomplish. Let the others worry about the Magistratum traitors; he was going to throw everything he had at Krelig.

Krelig still stood where he’d begun, colors playing ceaselessly around his hands and head. Krelig could cast many things without using his hands for focusing the power, but even he couldn’t cast everything that way, and especially not when being attacked from all sides. Calen made himself ignore everyone else. He glared down at Krelig, channeling all his anger and pain and regret into his magic. He cast again and again, terrible, devastating spells he’d crafted in his mind all those nights he’d lain awake at Krelig’s fortress, and even more in the days since he’d returned. He thought of Helena. He thought of Meg and what Krelig would do to her and everyone else if he won here today. He thought of what it would mean for the whole world if Krelig returned them to the old days of mages ruling over everyone, using magic without rules or laws or conscience.

Krelig responded to the renewed power of Calen’s onslaught, shifting and looking up to face him head-on. He felt Krelig’s touch on his mind, heard the mage’s voice inside his head.
You will pay for your betrayal, boy. You and everyone you hold dear. Did you hear Helena’s screams as you left her behind to die? That will be nothing compared to what your friends will suffer.
Calen felt the man’s terrible smile behind the words.
You will see.

You’ll be the one to see,
Calen sent back. He didn’t know if his words made it through, but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to let himself get distracted. Nothing mattered except casting again and again, blocking what Krelig and the others sent at him and sending back as much as he could. He pushed Krelig out of his head and sent spell after spell, commanding the magic to reach its target.

The magic obeyed as well as it could, but Krelig blocked everything with apparent ease. Calen blocked Krelig’s spells, too, but he knew that was only because of the precious extra seconds the early colors gave him. They were both fending off attacks from others as well, and so neither could concentrate their full power on their chosen target.
That might have to change,
Calen realized. He was going to wear himself out too quickly if this went on much longer.

Maybe the others will stop trying to kill you if you ask nicely,
the voice in his head — his own voice, not Krelig’s this time — suggested sarcastically.

Shut up,
Calen thought back. Obviously that wasn’t the answer. But they were going to have to try something. Because this wasn’t going to work.

As if to underscore that thought, another mage cried out from Serek’s group and stumbled backward from the wall. Calen glanced at her, unable to help it. The woman was screaming, her skin blazing with some kind of magical fire. Her partners turned to try to help her, and in their distraction one of them was hit from behind with the same spell.

Not working. This isn’t working,
Calen thought desperately. He made himself refocus on Krelig, trusting that the others would see to the wounded mages if they could. But with a part of his mind, he also reached out to Serek with his summoning spell.

We have to try something else,
Calen sent.
He’s going to win if we don’t.

I know,
Serek’s thought came back.
Just . . . hold on. Hold on as long as you can. We’re working on it.

Calen hoped they were working fast.

Krelig didn’t seem to be tiring in the least. Calen wasn’t either, not really . . . not yet. But he would be. He had no illusions that he was anywhere close to Krelig’s power. And that meant none of them were, because he was stronger by far than any of the other mages on their side. They needed more of an advantage. He had thought that his ability to see the colors would be the key; they had been what had made Krelig so eager to keep Calen on his side. But there was too much distraction; he couldn’t
focus.
What else did they have? They had slightly greater numbers, but that was clearly not enough. And they were already at least three mages down. Maybe more, for all he knew. They needed . . . they needed . . .

From beyond the fighting, he heard a new sound that cut through everything else. His head snapped up to look.

Oh,
thank the gods.

Jakl came screaming through the sky, flame streaming down at the slaarh on the outer edges of the fighting. Calen’s relief was immense.
Not dead,
he thought gratefully.
Thank you for not being dead.

Meg was on his back, of course, but she wasn’t alone. But then, as Calen watched, he saw a cloud of purple energy just before five of the figures that had been behind her suddenly disappeared.

He found them again an instant later, on the ground, advancing toward the rear line of the fighting. The purple traces of the transport spell still lingered around them even as they began casting anew, coming at the slaarh from behind. Meg circled around again, and he could see that there was still someone with her on the back of the dragon.

Krelig turned, momentarily distracted, and Calen struck as hard as he could, sending a fire spell that would have incinerated the mage on the spot if it had landed cleanly. The man had felt it coming, though, and was able to turn it aside at the last second, sending it sideways where it struck one of his traitor allies instead. She screamed in the instant before she died, but Calen barely noticed. Krelig had stumbled backward, and as he straightened back up, Calen saw a brief flare of yellow energy as the man hastily healed himself. Calen smiled viciously. He had hurt him. Just a little, and just for a moment, but it was a start.

And — the barrier was gone. In his distraction at actually being
hurt,
Krelig had let it dissolve.

Calen could understand why — it was a lot to maintain all at the same time, and not as immediate a need as the kind of shield you used to protect yourself from hostile magic. The barrier Krelig had set at his own fortress was a different kind of spell, one that he could set and then forget about, like wards. A physical obstacle like the one he’d created here would take a great deal more conscious thought and energy, especially when there were eighty or so enemy mages trying to dismantle it.

He waited for Krelig to realize that he’d released it, but instead the mage turned and resumed casting at Calen at once, with renewed force. Another spell came at Calen from two other mages, and now it was his turn to stumble backward. Another of Krelig’s group noticed and took the opportunity to add his own attack to the mix. Calen saw it coming, but wasn’t sure he could block it in time without making himself more vulnerable to Krelig.

A blast of orange energy shot out from the wall beside him and neutralized the incoming spell before it struck. Calen glanced sideways to see Anders moving toward him, continuing to fire orange energy at anything that came Calen’s way.

“Keep going!” Anders shouted at him over the roar of the fighting. “Serek has a plan!”

It’s about time,
Calen thought, although he knew that wasn’t fair. He refocused again, trusting Anders to keep the other mages’ attacks away from him as much as possible. Now he was starting to feel a little tired.
No, you’re not,
he told himself.
You’re just not. Keep going.