Hochopepa left the bench and stood before his old friend. “It may be we can yet have peace between our nations, Milamber. Should the old wound somehow be healed, we could benefit both worlds. I, for one, would love to visit this academy you build and meet this seer who predicts the future and this child who speaks with the mind.”
“I have many things I would share, Hocho. The making of controllable rifts is but a tenth part of it. But all that later. Go now.”
Pug began to guide Hochopepa to the door, but something in Meecham’s pose caught his eyes. It was too stiff and awkward. Dominic had been closely following the magicians’ conversation and had not seemed to notice any change in the franklin. Pug studied Meecham a second, then shouted, “A spell!”
Pug moved toward the window and touched Meecham. The tall man was unable to move. Past him Pug could see men running toward the building. Before Pug could react and incant a spell of protection, the door exploded inward with a thunderous sound, knocking everyone inside to the floor and stunning them momentarily.
Senses reeling, Pug tried to regain his feet, but his ears rang from the sound and his vision blurred. As he staggered upright, an object was hurled in through the door. It was a ball-like object the size of a man’s fist. Pug again tried to establish a spell of protection around the room, but the sphere emitted a blinding orange light. Pug’s eyes felt seared and he closed them, breaking the pattern of his spell. He began again, but the object made a high-pitched whine, which seemed to somehow drain away his strength. He heard someone hit the floor and couldn’t tell if Hochopepa or Dominic had tried to rise and failed or if Meecham had toppled. Pug fought against the magic of the sphere with all his considerable might, but he was off balance and confused. He staggered to the door, trying to get away from the object, for once free of its debilitating effects he could easily save his friends. But its own spell was too quick and strong. At the threshold of the shop he collapsed. He fell to his knees, blinking against the double vision the sphere or explosion had inflicted upon him. He could make out men approaching the building from across the plaza. They wore the armor of the Warlord’s Imperial Whites, his personal honor guard. Sinking downward into darkness, Pug could see that the one who led them wore a black robe. Pug could hear the magician’s voice, as if coming from a vast distance through the ringing in his ears, saying, “Bind them.”
SIXTEEN - Moraelin
Mist blew through the canyon.
Arutha signaled a halt; Jimmy peered downward through the blowing moisture. A waterfall thundered beside the trail that was their route toward Moraelin. Now they were properly in the Great Northern Mountains, in that area between the elven forests and the Northlands. Moraelin lay higher in the mountains, in a rocky, barren place just below the crest. They waited while Martin scouted the pass ahead. Since leaving their elven guides they had become a military mission in enemy-held lands. They could trust Arutha’s talisman to hide them from Murmandamus’s scrying magic, but that he knew they would soon come to Moraelin was beyond question. It was never to be a question of if they would encounter his minions, but simply when.
Martin returned, signaling that the way ahead was clear, then he put up his hand for a halt again. He dashed past the others, heading back down the trail. As he passed Baru and Roald, he motioned for them to follow. They jumped down from their mounts, and Laurie and Jimmy took the reins. Arutha looked back, wondering what Martin had seen, while Jimmy kept eyes ahead.
Martin and the others returned, another figure walking easily with them. Arutha relaxed when he saw it was the elf Galain.
The oppressive nature of their journey was such that when they spoke, it was in hushed tones, lest echoes in the hills betray them. Arutha greeted the elf. “We thought you not coming.”
Galain replied, “The Warleader sent me after you with this intelligence but a few hours after you departed. After he was found, the gwali Apalla said two things of importance. First, a beast of some ferocious nature unclear from the gwali’s description inhabits the area near the lake. Tomas pleads caution. Second, there is another entrance to Moraelin. He felt it of sufficient import to dispatch me after.” Galain smiled. “Besides, I thought it might also prove useful to see if you were being followed.”
“Were we?”
Galain nodded. “Two moredhel scouts cut your trail less than a mile north of our forests. They were marking your way, and one surely would have run ahead to warn when you got close to Moraelin. I would have joined you earlier, but I needed to be certain neither could escape to give warning. Now there is no such risk.” Martin nodded, knowing the elf would have killed them both suddenly and without chance for alarm. “There are no signs of others.”
Martin asked, “Do you return?”
“Tomas gave me discretion. It is not of much use to go back at this point. I may as well travel with you. I may not pass over the Tracks of the Hopeless, but until that portal is reached, another bow may prove useful.”