Ричард Кнаак - The Veiled Prophet

Then he wondered why the branches would move when there was no wind.

Uldyssian leapt up. “Captain—”

The branches from every nearby tree came rushing down, seizing wagons, horses, and men. One guard screamed as he was tossed into the dark jungle. The branches dropped a horse on a wagon not yet plucked up, crushing in the roof.

Captain Aztuhl chopped his way free of the groping branches, then seized a log from one of the fires. He fended off his first few attackers, but more and more thrust toward him.

Glaring at the trees that were the source of the captain’s predicament, Uldyssian used his powers to rip the branches off. The trees to which they had been attached shuddered, then stilled. A rain of broken limbs fell upon Aztuhl, but they were only an annoyance.

Uldyssian looked up at the nearest wagon, which he knew was Fahin’s. The son of Diomedes clenched a fist at the branches there, then drew the fist down.

The trees shook with obvious effort as they fought his control. Whatever had unleashed this chaos on the party wielded tremendous magic. Still, for some reason, Uldyssian did not think it the work of Inarius. It was not his manner. Despite the skill involved, there was a certain clumsiness.

But clumsy or not, the attack had already proven a deadly one. Someone had clearly been watching and waiting, and somehow they had managed to avoid detection by him.

Fahin’s wagon finally came to rest again. Uldyssian frowned, and as he did, the branches began peeling away from the wagon. They blackened as if burned, then shriveled until there was nothing left but stubs.

Yet even with so many limbs destroyed by him, there were still far too many. Uldyssian heard another guard scream. Of the last of the three wagons, there was no sign. Horses not seized ran in panic.

“Beware!” Captain Aztuhl leapt out of nowhere, colliding with a distracted Uldyssian.

The missing wagon came crashing down a short distance from the duo. As he struggled free of the captain, Uldyssian estimated that the wagon would have missed him even if Aztuhl had not come to his rescue. Still, he was grateful for the man’s concern. It had been a close thing.

“You must help me get my father out of the wagon!” Aztuhl gasped. “Please!”

“Your father?” The only wagon left was Master Fahin’s. “Do you mean—”

“I was not born of his wife,” the captain hastily explained. “But he took me into his house after her death and acknowledged me as his.”

He needed to say no more. Uldyssian and Aztuhl headed toward the wagon, where someone was already attempting to kick open the damaged door. As the door went flying open, the rotund form of the merchant emerged.

“Father!” called the captain. “Look out—”

Aztuhl’s warning cut off with a gagging sound. Uldyssian quickly turned, but the captain, clutching at the vines around his throat, was already vanishing into the foliage.

“Aztuhl!” Fahin shouted mournfully.

But there was nothing even Uldyssian could do. He reached out toward where he had last seen the man, but although scores of branches descended at his will, none of them held Aztuhl.

Uldyssian seized the merchant. “There’s nothing that can be done for him! I’m sorry!”

“It is—it is—” The teary-eyed merchant could say no more.

As he tried to maneuver Fahin away from the attacking trees, it finally occurred to Uldyssian that his focus had been all wrong. He had been reacting to the spell when he should have been seeking out its caster. There had been so much distraction that Uldyssian had not had the opportunity to think beyond the moment, but that would change now.

With Fahin in tow, Uldyssian did a sweeping search of the vicinity with his mind. At first glance, there was nothing, but he had become accustomed to the tricks used by his foes to mask themselves from notice. Uldyssian began seeking those areas where the absence of his unseen enemy was too great.

There! The area in question was so utterly calm that it could only be where the spellcaster hid. Uldyssian focused his will on the spot, seeking to rip away the other’s protection and then strike him down.

“Uldyssian! There is—”

Something heavy struck the son of Diomedes on the back of the head. Uldyssian’s thoughts swam. He stumbled past Fahin, unable to believe that an attack as simple as someone sneaking up behind him had succeeded.

“You foul wretch!” The watery image of the merchant drawing from his belt a jeweled but quite serviceable dagger passed before Uldyssian’s eyes. Fearful for his friend, he made a feeble grab for Fahin but easily missed. Fahin vanished behind him.

Uldyssian tried to turn in that direction, but his reflexes were oddly slow. He had not merely been hit, he realized; some spell also overtook him.

In desperation, he tried to burn away whatever had control of him. His head cleared a little. Uldyssian heard struggling.

Master Fahin let out a howl. There was a chuckle; then a heavy body dropped next to Uldyssian.

Powerful hands grabbed the son of Diomedes by the collar. Uldyssian squinted, trying to strike, but something pressed against his chest, making it impossible to concentrate. His body felt numb all over.

A grotesque visage all but pressed into his own face. The head was much too small for the body, but there was that in the eyes that spoke to Uldyssian of an intelligence equal to, if not greater than, his own.

“A step closer,” grunted the behemoth with an evil grin. The words were almost mangled by his huge mouth. “A step closer…”

He thrust a palm against Uldyssian’s forehead.

Zorun Tzin grinned with almost childlike pleasure at his success. He had hoped to use this particular spell—one carefully plotted out over a period of months for another purpose—to cause enough commotion to distract the Ascenian, but never in his wildest dreams had the mage expected such success. Truly, his power was greater than even he had ever assumed.

The deaths did not in the least bother Zorun. He knew exactly who had been in the wagons and that there would be some repercussions, but no one would trace the killing of Master Fahin to him. They were more likely to set the blame at the feet of Uldyssian ul-Diomed, something that Zorun would encourage. The rumors of the Ascenian’s might and violent nature were, after all, widely known.

It would also make the mage’s capturing of the renegade all that more impressive…if he bothered even to tell the council. Thoughts had been circulating in his head, thoughts involving the gaining of much, much power.

Power enough so that all other mages would bow to him.

As far as Zorun could sense, no witnesses had survived. All proceeded as planned. He had kept a furtive, and necessarily distant eye on Uldyssian for several days, and the encounter with the merchant had proven just what the bearded spellcaster desired. The Ascenian had willingly separated himself from his herd and set things in motion just exactly as Zorun required them.

Just to be on the safe side, though, the mage ordered the guards, “Go out and make certain that there are no survivors. Quickly, now.”

They obeyed with some reluctance, clearly not comfortable with all he had done. Zorun watched them hurry out toward the ruined wagons. Again unbidden came the thoughts of what he could do with the power the Ascenian supposedly wielded. Of course, that made the guards a situation he would have to rectify.

The underbrush to his left shook as a hulking form dragged its burden toward him. Zorun had no difficulty recognizing Terul’s too-small head.

“Ah! You have him! Splendid, Terul!”

The servant grunted, then brought the body closer. Daring at last to summon light, Zorun studied the Ascenian up close. “Not much to look at. A farmer, as they said. Hmmph! Still, more valuable than gold, eh, Terul?”