Brian Pratt - Trail of the Gods

Jiron turns just in time to see a glowing ball of fire materialize above the mage and soar with lightning speed toward them.

James summons the magic and creates a barrier in the fireball’s path. A great roaring explosion erupts when the fireball connects with the barrier, spraying flame and fire in all directions.

Spurring their horses into a gallop, James and the others make a dash for the Cardri side. Glancing back to the mage, they see him still riding hard in an attempt to stop them before they reach the safety of Cardri.

Another spike in the tingling sensation and James quickly looks back to the mage. Nothing is coming from that direction.

Suddenly a wide swath of the grass ahead of them bursts into flame, a veritable wall of fire. “He’s going to burn us alive!” screams Aleya as she brings her horse to a sudden halt. The horse rears up in fear at the sight of the wall of flame before it, somehow she remains in the saddle.

The wind begins to pick up, fanning the flames toward them. James calls forth the magic to combat the flames when the tingling sensation once more spikes as another fireball arcs toward them. Changing tactics, he again creates another barrier which causes the fireball to once more explode in mid-air.

“James!” he hears Jiron call to him. Glancing back, he sees that Jiron and Aleya have already moved further west. Sitting there on his horse, Jiron motions for him to follow. Turning his horse, James kicks it into a gallop just as the tingling sensation once more spikes. Groaning, he glances behind him and through the waves of heat the flaming grass is emitting, he sees yet another fireball arcing toward them.

Sending forth the magic, he again detonates the fireball before it has a chance to close the distance.

“You okay?” shouts Jiron as he and Aleya kick their horses into a gallop.

Shaking his head, James replies, “Not really.” Racing along the fringe of the fire, he begins to feel a gradual increase in the tingling. Suddenly, the speed of the wind increases rapidly as it begins whipping the fire into a roaring inferno directly at them.

A flaming stalk of grass which had been picked up by the wind strikes Aleya on the shoulder, sparks fly as she cries out from the burns. Flailing her arms wildly, she gets the burning brand off her but not before it ignites her long hair.

Jiron spies her predicament and brings his horse close where he uses his hand to put out the flames which had begun consuming her hair. When the fire is out only a small portion of her hair had been singed by the fire.

“Thanks,” she says.

“Welcome!” he shouts back to her over the roaring of the fire pursuing them. Glancing back behind them to where James is following, he sees him beginning to secure himself in the saddle with a rope which had been coiled on the saddle.

All of a sudden, they break out from the fire line and Jiron turns them due north as they race around the edge of the fire, putting it between them and their pursuers.

The wind changes course with an increase in the tingling sensation as the pursuing mage tries to alter the course of the wind to redirect the fire to stop them.

Jiron slows slightly to allow James to catch up. When he does, he says to Jiron, “You know what to do?” Jiron nods in reply.

To Aleya, James says, “Whatever happens, stay with Jiron.” When he sees her nod, he continues, “If we should get separated, we’ll meet at the first inn, an hour’s ride north of Kern. Wait there a day, then head up to Trendle. Find a Forest Warden there by the name of Ceryn and let him know what happened. Got that?”

She again nods her head. “What are you going to do?” She asks, a touch of fear in her voice. Whether it’s from what he might do or those pursuing them is hard to tell.

“Just do it!” he yells at her then closes his eyes.

She glances to Jiron who looks at her grimly and shrugs. “Don’t ask me,” he tells her. “But whatever he’s about to do won’t be pretty.”

Swallowing hard she looks ahead of them and gasps. Arrayed across the field a mile before them, situated between them and Kern, are hundreds of soldiers, both mounted and foot. Another several hundred archers are positioned behind them.

“Oh my god!” she cries.

Summoning the magic, James wrestles for control of the wind. His adversary is very strong, but like him, has already used most of his magic reserves in the battle thus far. In his mind’s eye, it almost seems like a tug of war as the winds are pulled first one way then another. They’re both evenly matched, neither able to take complete control from the other.

“James!” he hears Jiron exclaim. Opening his eyes a fraction, he sees the men arrayed before them. Damn! Closing his eyes once more, he abruptly changes tactics.

From the tales he’s heard of this mage he was at first worried about meeting him head to head. True, he was a mage of some power in his own right, trained by the Empire’s greatest living masters. When as a boy he had been tested along with others whom they felt had real potential, he was the only one to be selected for their School of the Arcane.

He first came to hear of this rogue mage when Zythun had been killed in the cataclysmic explosion at the City of Light. Not only killing him but taking out a good third of the forces which had been sent with him.

Then several more of their brethren had perished in duels with this man, leaving only a handful of full Adepts left in the Empire. The others he can understand him besting, they were not as powerful as Zythun had been, but Zythun? He was one of the most powerful and skilled of all the Adepts. Only a few could claim to be better.

So when he first felt the rogue mage on the plains of Kern, he felt dread come over him, as if his doom was nigh. He didn’t expect to live through the encounter as he rode out to keep him from reaching the protection of the Cardri army. Yet, the rogue mage has done nothing he’s been unable to counter. In fact, he seems to be getting the better of him in the struggle for the winds.

Pushing the winds toward the mage, driving the fire to consume him, he can feel the force of the mage’s power begin dwindling, as if he’s already used too much of his inner power. Encouraged, he continues attempting to wrest total control of the winds from this upstart.

Sudden movement from the flames ahead of him catches his eye and he slows his horse. Pausing not ten feet from the inferno, he scans the flames ahead of him. Something’s odd about the flames, though he can’t quite put his finger on it.

Suddenly, lurching out of the flames toward him, walks a six foot tall figure of flame. Staggering awkwardly, the fiery figure moves quickly as it closes the distance between them.

Neighing in fear, his horse rears backward at the fire creature’s approach and knocks him off. Hitting the ground hard, the mage lands on his leg at the wrong angle and the bone snaps. The pain breaks his concentration and he feels the rogue mage wrest complete control of the winds.

Looking up from his position on the ground, he sees the lumbering figure of fire coming for him. Crying out from pain as the fiery figure’s hand touches him, he tries to scoot backward in a vain attempt at escape. But the fire continues up his arm until he’s engulfed in a fiery embrace and his screams echo across the plains as the flames consume him.

Keeping his eyes closed, pain erupting from behind his forehead from creating and maintaining the fire creature, he tries to stay on this side of consciousness. With the mage’s death, he’s now in total control of the winds. Struggling against the pain which threatens to break his concentration, he directs the winds to push the fire back toward the Empire’s approaching troops. He can feel more than see them beat a hasty retreat as the fire changes directions and moves rapidly toward them.