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As the light gradually brightens, they’re able to tell the men from the farmhouse haven’t followed after. Slowing their horses to a canter, James removes his mirror from his belt pouch and scans behind them. The men, only about two dozen now, are still at the farmhouse.

With pursuit not an immediate threat, he scrolls the image to the west and south to find Illan. When he finally locates him, his breath catches in his throat as he sees them lined up for battle.

Soldiers of the Empire, both foot and horse are arrayed in an arc to the north. “They must have continued through the night in order to reach them so fast,” he says.

Jiron moves closer to look at the image. “At least they haven’t attacked yet,” he says hopefully.

James shifts the image south of Illan’s position to locate the party of approaching mages. It doesn’t take him long to find them, now less than an hour away from Illan and the others.

“We’re out of time!” cries Jiron as he kicks his horse up to a full gallop. He may kill it, but he plans to reach his sister before the attack commences. James puts his mirror back in his pouch and follows along behind.

Literally flying over the ground, the only thing on Jiron’s mind is his sister.

Chapter Twenty Eight

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Shortly after leaving Baerustin, Kerith-Ayxt received word of the destruction wrought at the School. His mind at first was unable to come to grips with what the mage who brought him word was actually telling him. When the mage finished relating the tale, all the other mages who were traveling with the High Lord Magus stood in stunned silence.

Loss of the library? Unthinkable!

Twice he had the mage restate the message until the facts finally sank in. Many of the mages with him thought he would erupt in a fit of rage, but all he felt was unimaginable loss. The library had held the works of some of history’s greatest minds. Leaps in the workings of magic that propelled generations onward to greater understanding are now lost.

Despite the edict given by Lord Cytok, he sent all but a score of his mages back to the school with a most insurmountable task. To write down their knowledge before it too becomes lost. Even with that, it may take centuries before the School is once again able to train the caliber of mages they have now.

Finally, anger begins to set in. He’s not sure how, but this has to be the work of that rogue mage who has caused the Empire such troubles the last year. Even from beneath the sands at Baerustin, still he is able to accomplish such destruction.

His anger requires an outlet, someone upon whom he can vent the anger and sorrow that seeks to consume him. The mage may lie dead beneath Baerustin, but he can seek vengeance on those who traveled with him. Black Hawk and those who ride with him shall know the wrath of the High Lord Magus.

Maintaining a harsh pace, he finally comes to within a day of Black Hawk’s forces. His rage, which once was a white hot sun demanding action, has now calmed into a calculating anger. One doesn’t become the High Lord Magus by allowing one’s emotions to get the better of them.

To the north he locates by magical means a force of soldiers heading to the river in an attempt to cut off Black Hawk’s retreat from the Empire. Keeping a steady pace, he maintains the gap between his mages and the Death Hawk. He plans to keep this pace until he can hit him at the same time as the other attacking force.

When the bridge blew and the army was forced to proceed further north to find a bridge to cross the river, his rage almost got the better of him once more. But logic won out and he continued as he had been and simply kept pace with Black Hawk.

Finally, once the army made it across to the eastern shore, he knew it was time. Quickening his pace, he moved to close the gap for the attack.

Their horses on the verge of collapsing, James and Jiron see the cloud of dust that hangs over the battlefield. Too late to join their comrades before the onslaught, they arrive shortly after it’s begun.

From the ranks of the defenders,