Jack Campbell - The Hidden Masters of Marandur

Alain braced himself, facing the ranks of Imperial cavalry. These Alexdrians depended on me. I am their defense against disaster. I cannot fail them. Not as I once failed the caravan on its way to Ringhmon. I will save these people, because Mari would want me to do this, because it is the hard thing but also the right thing.

He gathered the power in the area to himself, feeling where it had been already drained by the Mage who hurled lightening. But enough remained. As much remained as he could use.

Heat flared above his hand as he created it there. Alain stared at the ranks of Imperial cavalry, trying not to think about what he was going to do to them. Then he willed the heat to a spot in the stones of the road just ahead of the front rank of the cavalry.

The area exploded, hurling fragments among the Imperial soldiers. Alain had already created another fireball and willed it to strike a little distance from the first. Then another, then another, his strength draining away as Alain sent fireballs as rapidly as he could. The ranks of the Imperial cavalry disappeared in a succession of explosions that hurled men and horses in all directions. As the last fire left his hand to create a weak burst of heat among the Imperials, Alain fell to the road, his vision hazed by exhaustion so great that he could make no attempt to cushion his fall. Dimly aware that he must not lie here to die, Alain struggled to move as cries of panic and shock sounded from the Imperial troops.

Lightning flared above him, tearing through the space which Alain had occupied moments before. Then it came again, flaying the body of a horse lying between Alain and the Mage sending the lightning. Even through the haze of fatigue clouding his mind, Alain wondered why the lightning had been directed so close to him. Could not the lightning Mage have sensed where Alain was?

He had to have. Then had the lightning been aimed at Alain on purpose?

Alain tried to move again, his limbs shaking with effort, but could not manage to rise even to his elbows. Several horses came to a halt near him. The Imperials. Will they dare to slay me in revenge for what I did to their comrades?

But the boots that came into Alain’s field of vision were those of Alexdrians. The voice of General Flyn sounded above him. “Forgive us, Sir Mage, the familiarity of laying hands upon you, but we feel obligated to save the life of the one who just saved ours!” Hands grasped Alain, raising him and tossing him into an empty saddle, then a mounted Alexdrian soldier was on each side of him, holding him upright, and the group was heading away from the site of the ambush. The brass trumpets of the Imperials blared in their wake, sounding victorious but also frustrated at the escape of so many Alexdrians.

Alain tried to regain enough strength to keep in his saddle on his own, dimly aware of General Flyn organizing the survivors of his cavalry to drive the remaining Alexdrian foot soldiers ahead of them in a race to safety. Detachments of the remaining Alexdrian cavalry fell back occasionally to hamper the Imperial pursuit. General Flyn seemed to be everywhere at once, tireless as he drove his soldiers onward.

The general stopped by Alain briefly at one point. “Sir Mage, your warning saved us from suffering much worse losses in the first onset, and your stand against the Imperial cavalry saved us from being wiped out. I will admit I doubted the abilities of a young Mage, but I was wrong, Sir Mage, very wrong. I have never heard of any Mage who stood their ground so to defend common folk. If any one of us lives to reach the Northern Ramparts again, it will be because of you.”

Alain, still swaying in the saddle and holding on to his horse with great difficulty, could only nod. The general saluted him and rode off, urging another group of his soldiers to greater effort.

The rest of the ride seemed like a nightmare brought to life. The unchanging plains made it seem as if they were making no progress as they rode on, the enemy always behind. Alain slowly regained some strength, but was grateful for the escorts on either side of him, who remained alert for any sign the Mage was going to fall. It is odd. I should have died back there, struck by the lightning Mage who violated Guild rules by attacking me directly, or impaled on the lances of Imperial cavalry. But I still live, because these common soldiers, these shadows who my training says do not even exist, risk themselves to save me.

They clattered back across the wooden bridge as a faint glow to the east announced that dawn was not far off. General Flyn sat, watching his soldiers stream past, his face grim. From their conversation the day before, Alain knew that the general was thinking of how many soldiers had not lived to reach that bridge. The escort accompanying Alain brought their horses near the general and stopped, their mounts trembling with weariness.

“What can you see, Vasi?” Flyn asked one of the other Alexdrians. “Have you still got your Mechanic far-seers?”

That soldier put something like two tubes joined together to his eyes. “They’re coming, sir. Four or five bowshots off, I’d guess.”

A small group of foot soldiers came staggering across the bridge, herded by two more Alexdrian cavalry on exhausted horses. Flyn stopped one of the mounted soldiers. “Who’s behind you?”

The woman stared at him for a moment, too tired to think, then sat straighter in the saddle. She had lost her helmet in the battle or the retreat but had kept her sword and now raised it in a salute. “None but the Imperials and the dead as far as I know, General.”

“Then keep going. Well done.” Flyn ran his eyes across the group. “Akiko, you’ve got the freshest horse. Gallop a bowshot from the bridge and see if you can spot any more of ours coming, then get back here.”

The Alexdrian officer named Akiko turned a fearful but determined face forward and urged her horse across the bridge, its hooves thundering clearly in the stillness that marks dawn. Alain, finally able to sit in the saddle by himself again, watched the figure of the Alexdrian recede into the still, dark landscape. They waited, the only sounds the deep breathing of their blown horses and the rattle of equipment on the road where the fleeing Alexdrian force sought the refuge of the Ramparts.

Hooves sounded again, no longer galloping. General Flyn and his escort stiffened, tightening their grips on their weapons. Then Akiko reappeared, urging her horse on in a shambling trot. As she reached the far side of the bridge Akiko called out her message. “I couldn’t see anyone but some bodies lying in the road, sir, and the Imperials coming on strong behind.”

Flyn nodded grimly. “Sir Mage, had I a hundred soldiers still in fighting shape I would make a stand here and hold off the Imperials for a while. But the force I have here is too small and too tired. It would be a great service to us if this bridge were destroyed before the Imperials got here, because that is all that might delay them. Everything we had that could start a big fire fast is gone, lost in the retreat. Can you destroy this bridge, Sir Mage?”

Alain sat straighter, eyeing the wooden structure. Like anything else built by the Empire, it was stout enough to stand for centuries. Fortunately, this far out in the hinterlands, it was not made of stone but of wood. Still, it would take a good sized fire to make it unusable before the pursuit arrived, and he had very little strength. “Get your soldiers back from the bridge. I will do what I can.”

The Alexdrians fell back, eyeing him nervously. If Alain had not been so tired and so frightened, he would have been pleased to see that the soldiers who had seemed so skeptical of him now feared his abilities. His dismount wasn’t quite a fall from the saddle, as Alain managed to keep his feet. He stood unsteadily gazing at the bridge, then concentrated, seeing his hand trembling, finally using his other hand to grasp his forearm to steady it. There was plenty of power here to use, but his strength was so low. I cannot do this. I need my own strength, and it is gone.