The High-Wizard's Hunt

Chapter 19

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The Battle For Stanton

Osric sank down against the wall in the entrance hall to the Vigile barracks, frustrated and exhausted. He had been trying to sleep for several hours, but so many thoughts were racing through his mind that he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes closed. He was terrified that he would fail in the upcoming battle and the Kallegian would eradicate the good people of Stanton. He might die, but that possibility worried him far less than the deaths of his friends. Bridgett could die. The thought kept repeating over and over in his head. Bridgett might die, Bridgett might die, Bridgett might die…

Osric heard the sound of battle just outside, but Machai walked through the door before he could react.

“Machai, what’s happening?”

“The battle be beginning, but ye need to be listening to me before we be going. There be one thing ye need to be knowing about fighting with ye’r wand and ye’r blade.” Machai held out his arm to keep Osric from stepping past him into the hall. “Ye must be using ye’r spells in short burst or ye’ll be tiring too quickly.”

Osric looked him in the eye, not able to reconcile the instructions with what he had been taught. “That didn’t seem to be true at Braya,” he protested.

“Aye, but Braya be a short battle, and ye’r dual wielding training be brief as well. This battle could be taking all night to be resolving itself, and magic be using as much of ye’r strength as ye’r sword. Ye must be heeding me warning, or ye may be sorry.” Machai turned and rushed out the door to the battle with a growl.

Osric leapt into action, throwing the door open and striding out into the street. He could make out the sound of clashing weapons coming from several places, but he knew he had to stick to the plan rather than running toward every Kallegian he saw. Looking around, and feeling a bit cowardly for not joining the struggle, he travelled to the border of Stanton.

As Osric took in the scene before him, he caught sight of three hooded soldiers attacking an elderly man. They had him surrounded and he was struggling to keep all three at bay. A squirrel, an owl, and a prairie dog were doing their best to distract the men, working together by biting, scratching, and clawing at any exposed skin they could find, yet it was not enough to save the old man. Osric took his sword in his left hand and spun his wand in the other. “Extollo.” He pointed the wand and was amazed again to see the light shoot out of the tip. Ribbons of swirling light hoisted all three hooded men up by their feet. Osric smiled at the sight of the men trying to regain their bearings in the air. “Demitto,” he spoke with authority and snapped his wrist. The assailants were flung to the ground, landing in a crumpled, unconscious heap. “Eo ire itum.” Osric used the spell to send the three men to the market district and out of the way of the battle.

Osric wished he had managed to get some sleep. He noticed the oncoming strain of fatigue but fought it off and approached the old man. He stretched his muscles as he walked, warming up for the coming battle. He knew that it would be a long night, and he would not be able to avoid physical altercations the whole time.

“Get inside and make sure your home is safe.” Osric helped the man to his feet and nodded his head at the owl circling above them in search of another fight. As he watched the squirrel and the prairie dog scamper off, tripping a surprised Kallegian as they ran, the man’s urgent voice gained Osric’s attention.

“I am not helpless.” The old man’s bony hand dug into Osric’s arm. “I will not let you young men die for something if I am not willing to fight.” Osric understood that the man wanted to help protect his home and his loved ones, and that he was more than willing to die honorably in battle, but the thought of the man’s death weighed heavy on his heart.

“We can handle these men,” Osric tried to reason with him, “your wisdom will be needed later.” He winked and sent the sprawling Kallegian to the market with a spell, then turned to continue on his mission.

“Hey!”

Osric spun back at the authority in the old man’s cry and gasped when he was greeted with an open hand across his cheek. “What was that for?” Osric looked back at the toothless, grinning face.

“If I am quick enough to slap a man such as yourself,” he pulled his wool coat back over his shoulder, pride radiating from his stubborn stance, “then I can be of some use. That was some pretty fancy magic you just did,” he pointed at Osric’s wand, “and we may just have a chance, if you keep using it.”

Osric shook his head in dismay and hoped Archana would keep them both safe as he turned to wade further into Stanton with the elder at his side.

*

Machai raised a shield with a quick spell as a blast of fire from four Kallegians attempted to envelop him. He smiled knowing that fire would only bend to his will if he chose. When the flames dissipated, he was quick to act. He cast a binding spell at a man concealed behind several large crates, jerking his feet out from under him. The man was caught off guard by the pull, but he gathered his wits quickly and managed to catch a young buck in the shoulder with his blade on his way toward Machai.

Machai was ready with his axe and deflected the man’s first blow as he spun and pulled another hooded figure into the fray. Two of their men within my reach should keep them from casting another of those fireballs. He turned back in time to ward off a second attack as the men began to work together to try and find a hole in Machai’s defenses. His blood coursed faster as the excitement of battle ignited his limbs. The attacks came quick and fierce, but as Machai had hoped, they abandoned their wands in close quarters. He grinned at how easily he was able to fend off the supposedly well-trained soldiers’ attacks.

Machai kept the men moving in a circle around him to prevent either from casting a spell to immobilize him. Luckily, the men were also distracted by spells being cast by townsfolk from the rooftops surrounding them. He could feel the force of each blow invigorating him as he spun, blocking one slash and taking the second man’s legs off with the follow through, then dragging a third man into the fight with his wand.

That one was even easier to take out, as he waded in with a long sword held over his head and left his guard down. Machai dispatched him with a quick strike of his axe, then pulled it immediately out of the man’s forehead when the body slid to a stop at his feet. A few well-timed shield charms kept the last man at bay long enough to retrieve the blade.

Machai turned and blocked the next blow from a terrified man who was fumbling for his wand. Machai had trapped the sword between the blade and handle of his axe and pulled him close enough to grasp his arm. He whispered, “Eo ire itum,” and waited until he appeared in the market square to bash the disoriented man over the head.

Machai surveyed the area as the Kallegian he had brought with him collapsed to the ground. He was slightly disappointed that his group of enemies was not as formidable as stories had suggested. Dozens of hooded figures looked about with stunned expressions on their faces. Machai felt irritation surge within as he traveled to his next target. Though he had witnessed the success of the other teams, something did not sit right with way the battle was going. This be far too easy; we be missing something. He quickly dismissed the thought and forged back from the outskirts toward the market district.

Several Kallegian were striding toward him, and he ducked the first few swipes without using a spell. Then, casting a spell and hooking their ankles, he twitched his newly refashioned wand and watched them fall back and crack their heads on the cobblestone, rendering them worthless in the fight. Several animals joined in and served as able distractions, but frustration grew inside as he turned to the last two men whose hoods had fallen to reveal truly terrified expressions. He knew that the men were not the fearsome fighters they had been led to expect. Machai lowered his blade and shook his head.

Anger flooded through him as he tried to reason out what it meant. The soldiers were not well-trained in armed combat. They were like scared little boys. Machai looked back at the two men as they began to hum a low guttural tone while backing away. Machai charged them, screaming a battle cry. They turned as the low tone was choked off by fear, and they ran for their lives in the direction of the market district. Machai grinned as two large boars, with sharp tusks the length of his arms, took up the chase.

Machai frowned, looking down at the wounded men lying on the ground where the boars had managed to overwhelm them. He grabbed hold of their arms and used the traveling spell to take them to the larger group of their peers. “There be something very unsettling about this battle,” he mumbled to himself as he set out for his third patrol. He did not feel the need to check on the men keeping the Kallegian in the area. They would have no issue with keeping them contained. Where might I be finding Thamas and Osric? They should be knowing this fight be too easy to be trusted, he thought as he chose a different location for his destination. “Eo ire itum.”

*

Bridgett scanned the surrounding area, surprised at the silence, and stepped cautiously into the narrow alley leading to the market district. Chills flowed up her body as she felt the fear coming from a few hidden foes, yet she was unable to locate them.

She walked carefully to silence her footfalls and conceal her location. Why the great warrior Kallegians would fear an attack from the inhabitants of Stanton was a mystery, but they were afraid, and she intended to use that fact to her advantage. She kept herself low, and as hidden as she could, hugging the shadows of the streets.

Battle cries and swords clashing echoed down every alley, but she managed to keep her focus. She crouched quietly and sent her Empath power searching out around her. She was startled at the fear and hesitation she felt from the unfamiliar minds of the Kallegians. Everywhere around her, she could feel unease and doubt from the men, and she noticed something like a feeling of yearning for closer formations. It was as though they felt that they were not capable of surviving the battle unless they could group together. Suddenly, she realized that the men she was perceiving the strongest feelings from were quickly moving toward her from every direction. As they fought small skirmishes around the area, they were converging on her location without even realizing their comrades were close by. She rose quickly and used her gift to seek a safe way from the alley she stood in.

As she walked toward the main road before her, she hastened her step. Just before she turned the corner, she froze in her tracks. A group of six Kallegians were gathered in the road ahead, circling a large lion. He was pacing within their circle, roaring and swiping erratically at the men. There were three arrow shafts protruding from his shoulder, and blood ran down his leg to mingle with the dirt under his paws. Bridgett could sense his fear and his rage at being cornered by the men.

Her mind raced, trying to find a way to help the beast, but she was distracted by the actions of the Kallegians. The men were evenly spaced around the lion, circling slowly, and they were chanting in unison in a low, gutteral tone. Each time the soldiers changed the tone of their chant, Bridgett felt a distinct wave of pain wash over the lion. She could not make sense of it, but it seemed as though their synchronized words were slowly breaking the bones and tearing the flesh of the lion’s body. Yet, the only visible wounds were from the arrows.

“Stop!” She heard herself scream. She suddenly realized that she was standing only a few strides from the circle, and she was out of breath. She cursed herself for the mistake and watched the lion crumble to the ground. She was too late to save him, and she had placed herself in grave danger by approaching the group.

The six men turned and smiled at the sight of her with her knife and wand ready. The low, ominous tone began and she felt herself held in place as they circled her. She screamed for help as her eyes began to play tricks on her. She regained control of her body so she could move, but could see three of each of the men and had no idea which were real. All attempted attacks were hopeless as she found that any Kallegian she lunged for would disappear as soon as she neared him. She felt disoriented and confused as the pressure continued to build. It pressed on her bones and innards as she continued to scream for help.

Images shimmered on the edge of her vision. She thought for a moment that she could see several figures running toward the group. Pain ripped through her body and she collapsed, feeling as though her muscles were being torn. She gave up screaming because she didn’t have the strength left and surrendered her body to the throes of death. Her only wish was that she could have lived long enough to warn Osric.

The pressure built again as the tone changed for what she knew would be the last time. A fog rolled across her mind, and she tried to scream one last time. Slowly, the intensity of the pressure crushing her eased, and she heard voices that seemed to be in a struggle. She had a moment’s sympathy for the next person to be caught in the same trap she had fallen into.

The pain subsided completely and she managed to lift her head. She was shocked to see two Kallegian fleeing from a large figure covered in blood. The giant man was holding a decapitated head in one large, muscular hand and a hammer in the other. The figure looked familiar, but she could not make out who it was. Bridgett felt her strength returning rapidly in the absence of the magic that had nearly ended her life. She stood slowly and watched the man drop the head he was holding. Bloody, sweating and breathing hard, he turned to face her.

“Macgowan?” Bridgett gazed through tear filled eyes as he nodded. “Thank you.” She strained to speak. He placed a shaking hand on her arm to steady her. Bridgett watched as he put his bloody hand into his satchel and pulled something out. The tears slid down her cheeks as he placed a blood stained daisy in her hair.

“For Kauna,” he said, lips shaking with the emotion behind his words. Bridgett ceased searching with her Empath gift. His sorrow for losing Kauna was too much for her to take. Then he turned and slowly meandered toward the market district.

Bridgett felt ragged and weak from her ordeal. She felt an urge to comfort Macgowan but did not know where to begin. She had witnessed many families lose members in her days, but rarely did she feel a mind as wracked with grief. She quickly caught up to him, and he stopped as she placed her hand on his arm. Ignoring the blood covering him, she kissed him on the cheek and they slowly made their way toward their destination. “She would be proud. If it is possible, I know she is missing you, too.”

*

Osric surveyed the street and could not make out any more of the hooded Kallegians. The street echoed with the sounds of the night, but the air was lacking the scent of the cold winter nights he had grown to love over his years. The smell of blood and smoke assaulted his senses.

The battle had gone better than he had hoped, and he was proud of the performance of his Vigiles. News had reached his ears of some casualties, but most of the deaths were of the numerous animals that had chosen to join them in their battle. Nearly ready to depart for his next patrol, Osric sheathed his sword and readied himself to travel.

“Osric.” Thamas stepped to the edge of a rooftop nearby. “The dragons tell me that the streets are clear. All of the Kallegians are in the market district.”

“That quick?” Osric was slightly surprised and confused by the efficiency with which they were able to carry out their plan. The Vigiles were great fighters, but rumors of the Kallegian’s skill with magic had made him expect a much more difficult battle.

“They didn’t put up much of a fight.” Thamas grinned. “I told you we should stay and fight. The talk of their magic must have been a severe exaggeration. We should escort them out of Stanton before the rest wake up.”

“I’m not sure this is the end of it, but we can hope,” Osric agreed. He saw Thamas disappear as he spoke the spell to travel. Osric took a moment to be grateful for their success. He was glad he had allowed Thamas and many of the other Stanton residents to join in their cause. He had expected a much higher mortality rate for the people who fought with heart but with little combat training. I just hope we can end this now, without any more fighting. The familiar sensation of movement greeted him as he cast the traveling spell, and reappeared in the market district.

The faces of the Stanton villagers greeted him as the scene began to take shape. Some of those gathered wore a curious expression at the commotion, some were timid with the impending confrontation, and even more gossiped as if the whole event was a show they had come to watch at a festival. Others wore grim expressions of realization. Serious expressions were donned by ex-Vigiles, elders, and several men who had served in the Ryhain’s personal guard.

In the distance, near one of the city’s shops, Osric caught sight of Bridgett. She stood with Macgowan, bloodied but looking as strong as ever. She was engaged in a heated argument with Thamas. The frustrated faces of the dwarves, with Machai in the lead, looked on with serious expressions. Osric could sense the urgency in Bridgett’s plea, but he was too far away to make out the words. His Empath ability indicated that whatever she was saying was of paramount importance to the safety of Stanton, and to the success of their purge of the Kallegian incursion.

Osric beat a path, jumping over a few nearby barrels with a hand to help him gain height to clear the obstruction. The Empath gift urged him, but there was something more to it. There was input coming from more than one of his gifts, and with the inflow of stimulus taking him by surprise he could not identify which gifts were guiding him. Multiple gifts indicating the same danger without clarity spurred him to run even faster.

He forced his way through the throngs of people waiting to watch the Kallegian leave in defeat, striving not to collide with them as he ran. He saw a shopkeeper fall to the ground in the chaos of the battle’s aftermath, but he rushed past her in his urgency to get to Bridgett. Osric cringed at the lack of consideration he demonstrated by not helping the shopkeeper to her feet, but he needed to discover what danger Bridgett had brought to the attention of the Vigiles.

Osric arrived, panting from the exertion and panicked at how ragged Bridgett looked in the low light. The evidence of her ordeal in her torn dress, bruised and bloody skin, and scared expression terrified him.

“What happened to the two of you? Why wasn’t I called?” Osric motioned to Macgowan and Bridgett with a stern scowl, still struggling to catch his breath.

“Osric, we set a trap for ourselves by bringing them all here. We tried to contact you, but we couldn’t establish a link with your wand. You must have been casting a spell,” Bridgett said.

“A trap for ourselves, what do you mean?” Silently he cursed himself for leaning too heavily on his wand in the battle and being unavailable when Bridgett needed him.

“We succeeded as much as we have because the attack came while they were in small clusters. I nearly lost my life when I encountered a small band of them. If it weren’t for Macgowan, I would be dead right now.” Bridgett’s words landed hard as Osric examined the blood spattered tunic and pants on Macgowan. Macgowan’s Blacksmith hammer was held firmly in his right hand and his bloodshot, swollen eyes hinted at a fierce struggle.

“They be children before our blades. They will be cowering before us and fleeing like wounded dogs.” Kablis waved his hands in the air and turned to his men. “She be just a weak girl.”

“Kablis,” Machai put a hand out to stop him from walking away, “I be seeing them cowering before me blade, but she be no ordinary woman. Ye should be heeding her words. This battle be far from over.”

“Ba,” he swatted at Machai’s outstretched hand in annoyance, “let’s be finishing this and then we can be celebrating.” His certainty of victory was obvious as he yelled his final words at the Kallegians who were rousing their companions.

“Hey.” A shout cut through his jubilation as Macgowan stepped in his path. A ring of reverberating metal pierced the air as Macgowan’s hammer connected with the head of Kablis’ axe. “You will not stand a chance against their magic. I was only able to save her because I surprised them while they were focusing on her defenseless, dying form at their feet. If you will not listen to a woman, then hear it from me. I echo each of her words. Will you speak of me the same way you spoke of her?” Macgowan stood menacingly, towering over Kablis. The dwarf backed away slightly, wide eyed as the force of the words grew more threatening. Osric glanced at Macgowan, awed by the passion in his speech. The man hadn’t strung more than three words together since the palace collapsed with his wife inside. A hush came over the crowd as everyone nearby backed away, eyeing the outraged man.

Bridgett approached and placed a gentle hand on his massive shoulder. “Macgowan, I thank you, but I think I can take it from here.” She smiled gently up at him in appreciation. Then she turned her attention back to Osric.

“In the streets, I sensed their desire to search each other out, and I happened upon a group of them encircling a lion.” She gazed nervously at the Kallegians gathering in groups on the edge of the cobblestone road. “They were chanting something, and I watched the immobile lion crumble from the magic produced by their tone.” Her eyes closed and a tear fell down her face. “Then they turned their attention to me,” her words spilled out of her mouth in a rush, “and as they surrounded me, the chant first kept me from moving. Then it was as if I was being smothered beneath a blanket, but that wasn’t the worst of it. The pressure built as the tones in their chants changed, and soon I found myself being crushed from within.”

Osric was horrified by the way she looked as the story rushed out of her mouth. He kept a wary eye on the Kallegians as well, but luckily they had not stopped waking the unconscious men that had been brought to the market district. He did not imagine they had much time left to prepare, so he focused on Bridgett’s words, trying to form a plan.

“Their chant is more powerful in larger numbers, and we just put them in between us and the way out of Stanton! We need to do something before they get the rest of their men to join them, and we do not have much time.” Pleading eyes looked back at Osric. “Please, look at them and feel what I am telling you. Their confidence is growing fast.”

Osric nodded in agreement. He turned toward the Kallegians and searched for their emotions. An isolated man awoke in a fit of nerves and stood looking at the crowd that was gathered. As his eyes searched his surroundings, he ran to join a cluster of hooded figures. He moved uncertainly until he joined the others, and an instant relief began to incorporate itself within him. Soon after the relief came a rush of confidence that began to grow. The confidence mingled with an emotion Osric could not give a name, but tangled within the emotion as he was, Osric felt his lips curl in a greedy, malicious smile. Osric fought to withdraw his focus from the man’s unfamiliar emotions. He slowly regained his own feelings, distancing himself from the Empath link.

“Machai, you have fire burning within, correct?” Osric pointed at his chest and Machai smiled.

“It be burning hot, me friend.”

“Does any of your kin have the same gift?” he probed Machai further. A smile creased the dwarf’s face as two others stepped forward from his group.

“Ye want us to be lighting a fire under their arses to be sending them on their way?”

Osric nodded with a smile and waved for the three dwarves to follow him. They quickly found their way to the front of the line and spread out as wide as they could space themselves and still cast an effective spell. Wands outstretched, Osric watched the others initiate the spell so he could repeat the process in himself. He hesitated only briefly before invading the privacy of the dwarves without asking to look within them. He hadn’t practiced with the Fire Elemental gift and they would need his help for a strong enough fire. Relief filled him as he saw them initiate the spell like any other, and the ability felt natural as he began drawing on the power. Osric fixed the purpose in his mind and sent the power outward as he had observed the dwarves doing.

A wall of flames joined between the four casters and began to move in the direction of the Kallegians. The few men who lay unconscious, as yet unreached by their comrades, burst into flame as the wall of fire passed over them. The flames soon woke the men and Osric cringed as they screamed out for help. Horrified, angry faces peered through the flames. The Kallegians waiting on the wrong side of the fire began to issue orders, and they soon formed several long lines in front of the flames, refusing to yield. If this turns into a test of wills, they will lose, Osric thought to himself.

A low tone began to emanate from beyond the wall of flame, but fire continued to surge toward the front of the lines they formed. Soon the flames licked at the feet of the nearest men as they chanted. A few scattered amongst them erupted into flames, screaming, but the lines held. As the tone of their chanting deepened, the fire slowed in its progression and diminished in height.

Osric felt a wave of uncertainty wash over him, and he wavered slightly for a moment but continued to hold the spell. He felt the strength of his spell drop, and it caught him off guard. Still holding onto the thought that carried this new spell out in a wall of fire, Osric looked to his left and saw Machai and the others standing with their hands at their sides. Fear adorned their scowls where they stood. Osric reached out with his mind to feel their intention and find out why they were no longer utilizing their gifts.

Helplessness filled each mind he touched, and as Osric looked around, he noticed that every face wore the same sense of doom. The ominous hum of the Kallegians echoed and reverberated in a strange and violent tone as it suddenly varied in pitch. The visage of each villager changed to pain, and Osric dropped his wand.

He scanned the crowd with the Wand-Maker gift and noticed orange waves crashing into each person, enveloping them and pressing against their bodies with ever increasing speed.

Osric turned again to peer at the Kallegians with his gift. He watched the lines of men who had not yet encountered the wall of flames as the reverberating tone of magic flowed from their mouths. He could not begin to make sense of what was happening. Stranger still was the fact that he was completely unaffected by the magic. He lifted his hands quickly through the air and saw the copper ring, given to him by the boar he killed in his last hunt, absorbing all of the magic that attempted to crash against his body.

Osric looked into the sky, feeling completely inadequate. He was the only hope of the inhabitants of Stanton, but even if he waded into the Kallegians with his wand and blade, he could not cut down their entire force by himself. Osric needed help, and he knew it. He closed his eyes, thinking to call for Greyback, when he heard an echo in his head.

We are coming; all of us are coming!

Osric shook himself, briefly stunned by the invasion into his mind by unexpected magic, and screamed, “Greyback, now!”

His sword cleared his scabbard and Osric charged into the heart of the enemy’s line. To his surprise, the Kallegians no longer fought as timidly as they had in the streets by themselves. He found himself confronted by swords fully drawn and ready to attack, and he had to take a step back as an attack from two chanting men nearly caught him off guard. The faces of the Kallegians seemed to be even more shocked that Osric did not suffer the ill effects of their chanting. Yet, he was still in trouble as a group of men encircled him.

Osric took out his wand, inspiring startled expressions from his enemies. If they had never engaged with an enemy that fought with sword and wand, it would only be to his benefit. As quickly as the confusion had hit their faces, it vanished as they charged in on him. Two men lunged in with swords, barely missing Osric’s arm as he raised a shield charm just in time.

The onslaught of attacks came with alarming speed and consistency. When Osric pushed a man down with his wand, another would take his place, and they quickly adapted to the rhythm of the attack. Osric was left fighting fresh men without a break in deflecting the attacks. Though only moments had passed, he quickly began to feel the strain of fighting eight men at once. Even with the amount of power at his command, he knew he would not last long enough to defeat the entire army and save the inhabitants if help did not arrive soon.

A crash sounded in the distance, and a boulder was dropped behind the Kallegians to one side of Osric. He jumped out of the way as it rolled toward the circle of men, landing awkwardly on top of one of his would be assassins. The eagles? And not a moment too soon!

Osric looked up at the sky and confirmed his assertion. He was shocked as a burst of amber flames shot out in an arc across the front lines of the Kallegians. The dragons are joining, too? Osric wondered, noticing Greyback land in front of him on the ground, bellowing a tremendous roar.

Dragons filled the air in a fearsome display. The few Kallegians who had found and saddled horses were swallowed whole where they sat. There was an awesome vengeance in the beating of their wings as hundreds of dragons descended into the square. From every direction, Osric could see the sheen of thick, bony scales lit by torch light. Crimson, gold and sapphire blazed through the dark, as each dragon added its own signature to the panicked plea from the Kallegians.

It was a spectacle unlike any Osric had witnessed before. The dragons moved with a terrible grace as they flew, twisting and turning in a controlled symphony of movement. Vicious efficiency drove the winged attack, until finally the Kallegians halted their chanting in favor of retreat.

Osric quickly looked back and watched as the dwarves, Vigiles, and the throngs of onlookers all joined in the attack. The Kallegians were putting up a fierce fight in tightly packed groups, but they were frequently thwarted by the stones dropped from the sky and dragon fire raining down on them. The Kallegians had no chance, constantly being pushed back by an assault that came from all sides. Each wave pressed the Kallegians further down the road and out of town, but they did not dare turn to run.

“No!”

Osric heard a scream from on top of a cart behind the departing soldiers. He looked, but in the low light he could not make out who was shouting. Yet, the voice sounded disturbingly familiar.

“Osric, I will have your head for this!” Aron’s scream was full of wrath.

Osric considered raising his wand, using the traveling spell to transport Aron a thousand strides into the sky, and simply dropping him. He could watch, satisfied, as Aron tumbled helplessly through the air. Aron deserved to be unable to stop himself, forced to see his own death rapidly approaching in the form of the solid ground beneath him; but no, that would not do. Osric needed to dispatch Aron himself. He wanted to show him that he was wrong, that he had joined the wrong side of the conflict. He needed Aron to realize that he had been beaten by an enemy that he never took seriously, to make him feel the pain that he had to endure while watching Kenneth be beaten in their cell.

Osric’s attackers gave him the opening he needed when they turned to flee from the dragons and eagles. He did not want any more deaths on his hands, and Aron would kill anyone in his path to reach Osric and force him to fight. So, he ran with as much speed as he could muster toward the cart, and all the while, Aron watched him approach.

Osric was slowed by the need to dispatch a few more men as he waded through the crowd in order to cut a path, but he kept an eye on Aron. Swords clashed all around him, and he ducked to evade an occasional burst of flames intended for the Kallegians. Weariness was pressing in on his mind and body from a day of battle, and several more without sleep, but Osric pressed on until at last he stood before Aron.

“You worthless traitor,” Aron held his sword up, pointing it at Osric’s chest, “I swear you will give up your secrets tonight!”

“Never,” Osric spat in reply.

“Oh, you will tell me.” Aron jumped down from the cart, swinging hard with his sword. Osric cast a shield to block the strike, and the follow through had Aron fighting to keep his balance as the sword’s momentum carried him to the left.

Osric kicked Aron with a heavy boot, shoving him down to the ground. To his surprise, Aron rolled over quickly and kicked Osric’s hand. His fingers were numb from the cold winter air, and Legati flew from his grasp as the shock settled into the broken bones of his hand. Osric cast a shield spell as he was forced to turn his back to Aron and lunge for his sword. Aron dove forward and caught Osric by the ankle, sending him sprawling into the frozen, muddy slush of the road. Osric’s elbow slammed into the ground, flinging his wand from his hand. He fought to suck air into his lungs, sure he had cracked several ribs. Osric craned his head to look back at Aron, filled with a sense of doom. Aron laughed sinisterly, rising to his feet, but Osric was relieved to see Aron’s blade also lay on the ground several strides away.

Aron stood over him, still chuckling, and reached behind himself. “Who would have thought it would have come down to this. You without any of the weapons you depend on, and me with one remaining.”

Osric saw only a glimpse of a wand in Aron’s hand before he launched himself forward, grabbing hold of the lowered arm that held the magical implement. Aron rammed his head into Osric’s, causing his vision to display flashes of yellow and orange. Yet he held tight and brought a knee up quickly into Aron’s ribs.

They continued to scuffle in close quarters, fighting over the one thing that could decide the victor. Aron spat and shouted obscenities into the night sky as they rolled on the ground, each trying to gain the upper hand in the fight to possess the wand.

“Tell me how you sent me here with only a word!”

Osric felt every ache and pain in his body as he tried to pull the wand free. Fatigue and stress were taking their toll, and he did not have much strength left. He dug deep for motivation and inspiration as he was knocked back against a cold wall alongside the street. He had only one hope as Aron pointed the wand directly at his right eye.

“Eo ire itum.” Osric appeared beside Aron and jammed his elbow down into the angle of his neck and shoulder, stunning the nerves of his hand. Osric slammed his fist down hard against Aron’s hand while it was numb, causing him to lose his grasp on the wand. Furious, Aron grappled with him and drove the larger man toward the ground with as much force as he could manage. Osric grabbed his shoulders and twisted them both in mid-air. Summoning all the power and strength that he had left into his arms, he landed on top of Aron and struck him in the face. He leaned in close to the bloody face that stared back at him and whispered again.

“I will teach you the words if you must know,” Osric punched him again, feeling a cold shiver deep inside of him inspired by his memory. He arched an eyebrow questioningly at Aron. “Are you sure you want to know?”

Aron’s limp body nodded in the affirmative, and his swollen eyes almost begged for the knowledge. Osric did not spare a moment of consideration for the destination, nor sympathy for the end he knew Aron would meet upon his arrival. He leaned forward and whispered the words into Aron’s ear. Aron’s eyes were wide with anticipation as he leaned in to hear.

“You need to think of a destination. Hold that destination in your mind and then speak these words,” Osric grabbed Aron’s arms and leaned even closer, “Eo ire itum.”

Osric felt a lurch and forward momentum, then found himself on the familiar, unseasonally green grass of the Grove of the Unicorn. He rolled off of Aron as the protection spell swarmed in on him. Footsteps ran quickly toward the two of them, but Osric let the warm breeze cover him where he laid. He closed his eyes as he heard Aron gasping for air and fighting for his life. He knew they would not, or could not, extend this man an invite into the Grove. The spoken spell would be safe with him and the few whom he had trusted with it. He had won, yet the costly victory did not fill him with joy. He needed to get back and end the fight, and he hoped that one of the people that were rapidly approaching had a potion that would give him the energy to return to Stanton.

Osric turned to see Aron struggling beside him. “It’s over,” he sighed at Aron’s effort to overcome the pain, “you’re dead.”