Jack Campbell: The Hidden Masters of Marandur

The quiet and the motion of his horse made Alain so drowsy that he dozed off in the saddle a few times, jerking himself awake when he started to slip. Then he came fully awake, staring at the vision of a burning tower that had appeared beside the road. Though the flames leapt high from the tower, they cast no light upon the road or the fields.

Then it was gone.

Alain twisted in his saddle, seeing his soldier escort P’tel drowsing in the saddle nearby. “Get the general here. Immediately.”

P’tel jerked with surprise and alarm at Alain’s order, then saluted and rode off as fast as he could spur his horse.

A very short time later, two horses came racing down the line of the column, P’tel pulling up well short of the Mage but General Flyn riding up right next to Alain. “Is something amiss, Sir Mage?”

“Is there a tower ahead?” Alain asked. “To the left. A few lances off the road. Square. Wooden. Perhaps the height of four men.”

Flyn nodded, frowning. “There is such a tower. Not far ahead at all. An abandoned Imperial watch tower. It hasn’t been occupied for a decade, and my scouts just reported it still empty.”

“I saw it burning,” Alain said. “My foresight warned of something to come. How far ahead is it?”

“The head of the column should be almost reaching it,” Flyn said. “Sir Mage, I have three pairs of scouts out, all experienced soldiers. None have reported danger.”

Alain started to reply, then he felt something. Several somethings. The unmistakable sense that Mages were not too far distant and working spells. Alain pointed ahead and to the sides, surprised that he could keep his voice steady. “Do your scouts ride there, and there, and there?”

Flyn stared. “Yes, Sir Mage.”

“Then at this moment they are probably dying at the hands of the Mages I sense.”

The general did not hesitate for another moment. He rose in the saddle to roar out orders in a voice that carried easily through the night. “Ambush! Everyone off the road! To arms! Move or die!”

Alain looked ahead as shocked soldiers roused themselves from the stupor of march and flung themselves toward cover. He could now see the dim outline of the watch tower visible in the night. The world illusion seemed to have slowed down, everything happening with terrible sluggishness, General Flyn’s words coming out oh so slowly, Alexdrian soldiers running and reaching for weapons with the agonizing snail’s pace of those caught in a nightmare, Alain trying to gather power to himself yet not knowing which spell he needed to use.

Lightning flared, not from the sky but from the ground, racing across the surface to strike the watch tower and cause it to erupt into flames that illuminated the Alexdrian soldiers as they scrambled off the road.

The sudden blare of the brass trumpets used to pass signals among Imperial forces came from the left side of the road, and time shot back into motion as a storm of crossbow bolts came hurtling out of the darkness. Deeper thrums marked Imperial siege machines called ballistae hurling their projectiles toward the Alexdrians. Much louder than all the rest came the thunder of Mechanic weapons from the Imperial position, the fire of several rifles adding to the havoc among the Alexdrian soldiers.

Alain’s horse reared, screaming in pain, then twisted and fell. Alain barely managed to jump free of the saddle before his horse crashed to the ground. Toughened by his Mage training and partially cushioned by the robes he wore, Alain landed hard but unhurt. Jumping up, he looked down at the horse he had ridden, seeing the crossbow bolt protruding from its chest and the bloody foam on the horse’s muzzle as it twitched out the last vestiges of life. Alain turned away, his eyes coming to rest on the Alexdrian soldier named P’tel. The boy had fallen on his back, a crossbow bolt protruding from his neck. Blood pooled beneath the new armor which had not been able to protect him. P’tel’s sightless eyes stared up at the stars, his expression forever frozen in surprise.

Alain went to one knee beside the body, momentarily oblivious to the battle around him. He is nothing. Just a shadow. No. My training cannot be right in that. For the loss of a shadow would not pain me so. Eighteen years of age, only a few days older than Alain, and P’tel would never see another sunrise. You journey to another dream, soldier of Alexdria. May your next dream end better than this one. Standing up again, Alain stared around, feeling a curious calm mixing with the anger and fear that he kept suppressed. He could find few targets for his spells in the uncertain light cast by the burning tower. Dead Alexdrian soldiers littered the road and its verges, while the Imperial crossbows and other weapons continued to flay the other Alexdrians who had sought cover.

Focusing on one of the dimly seen ballistae, Alain concentrated on changing the world illusion. The air above his palm was hot, much hotter than the surrounding air. Very, very hot. His own strength went into the spell, aided by the power held by the land around him.

The illusion of heat was above his palm. Alain looked toward the ballistae, and imagined the heat there instead of here . In an instant, the heat had gone from here to there , and the wooden ballistae turned into another torch as it caught fire, the distant figures of its crew hurling themselves away from the inferno.

In the light cast by the burning tower and siege machine, Alain could see that General Flyn had rallied his cavalry, leading it in a charge against the flank of the Imperials entrenched on the left side of the road. The Imperial troops had not expected their targets to be warned and able to recover so swiftly from the shock of ambush. In the darkness and the confusion, the legionaries did not notice the Alexdrian charge coming until it was too late. The Alexdrian cavalry hit the Imperial forces and rode over them, breaking that end of the Imperial line. Overrunning one of the Imperial war machines, some of the cavalry turned it and fired its huge bolt down the ranks of the Imperial trenches, causing chaos. Flyn wheeled his forces, preparing them to charge down the length of the disrupted Imperial line.

Alain was watching, waiting for good targets, when lightning came again from the ground among the shadowed areas behind the Imperial line. The forks of lightning shot out, smashing into the Alexdrian cavalry, sending horses and soldiers flying. Those horses unhurt or singed by the attacks panicked, stampeding away riderless or with riders vainly trying to regain control. The lightning struck once more, and then a third time, weakening with each bolt, but disrupting the attempts by some groups of Alexdrian cavalry to hold their ground.

The Imperials have a lightning Mage, and a very strong one to cast so much lightning so fast. But he could do nothing about it. Even though Alain could sense the position of the lightning Mage, the Mage Guild did not permit Mages to attack each other when the forces they were contracted to clashed in battle. The Mages could only strike at commons. Alain stood, helpless, as the Imperials rallied and the fleeing Alexdrians streamed past him.

Imperial trumpets sounded again. Alain could see lines of mounted soldiers coming toward him. Imperial cavalry this time, moving at a steady pace, preparing to charge down the road and sweep away the shattered Alexdrian force.

Leave them to their fates , Alain’s Mage training told him.

Run , save yourself , Alain’s fears cried.

I don’t leave anyone behind , Mari’s voice said, so clearly he wondered for a moment if she truly stood beside him. That insubstantial thread he had once sensed tying them together was present again, and he felt strength and resolve fill him simply because he was conscious of that thread.