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“Should be to Korazan by early tomorrow if we keep a steady pace,” Illan says, breaking the silence. He glances to where James is riding beside him and asks, “Can you check for hostiles?”

“Sure, but they’ll know where we are,” he replies.

Shrugging, Illan says, “Doesn’t matter much now. They know we didn’t go north or south, east would be pointless, so they’re going to send everything this way. Probably will try to crush us quickly with all they have.”

“Alright,” agrees James and then reaches for his mirror.

“Scouts say there’s a road ahead of us a mile or two running north and south,” he says as James gets his mirror into position.

Nodding, James gazes into the mirror and lets the magic flow. The image clarifies and he sees their force from a bird’s eye view. Scrolling the image, he first looks to the west to see what’s ahead. It doesn’t take long to find the road that the scouts reported. “There’s traffic upon it,” he says to Illan. “Regular people and a few caravans.” Glancing to Illan he says, “I don’t think they were expecting us to move this way.”

With a grin, Illan replies, “Good.”

Returning his gaze to the mirror, he scrolls the image still further. As the image moves further from his position, the drain of magic increases. “Doesn’t look like anything ahead of us will present much of a problem,” he says. “There are a few forces on the move but nothing we can’t handle.”

Moving the image, he begins to scan clockwise. To the north rides a band of horsemen heading in their direction, looks to be two score doubtful if they would even try anything against so overwhelming an army. About an hour behind them to the east he finds those riders they left behind at the camp riding hard to catch up. Two to three hours behind them follows the force from Al-Zynn, easily twice the number of those riding with James. The force is entirely made up of cavalry, three brown robes ride with them.

“Our riders made it safely away,” he tells Illan. “They’re about an hour behind us.”

“That’s good news,” he replies.

From behind, Ceadric asks, “What about the force from Al-Zynn and the one that was following us?”

“The army from Al-Zynn rides several hours behind our men, and they’re twice our number with three brown robes,” he says as he scrolls the image to locate the force that had been trailing them. “The others are moving to join with them.”

“Three mages?” Brother Willim asks.

Nodding, James turns his gaze to him and says, “Three.”

“That will make things interesting,” he says.

“Where do they get them all?” James asks as he returns his gaze to the mirror to check to the south.

“They periodically test children and those who show an inclination or talent toward magic are taken to their School of the Arcane,” explains Illan. “From what we understand, not many make it through the training process.”

“I take it that it’s not exactly a voluntary choice?” he asks. The south looks fairly clear of any immediate threat so he returns his mirror to his pack.

“Actually, most desire the prestige and honor that goes with being a mage for the Empire despite the risks involved,” Ceadric adds. “I suppose a few don’t want to go and they’re probably the ones who fail to survive.”

Just then they see ahead a scout returning. As he pulls up to ride beside Illan he says, “The road is just ahead.”

“Are they aware of our approach?” Illan asks.

“Not yet Black Hawk,” replies the scout. “People are still traveling along at a normal pace.”

James gazes to the horizon ahead in the morning light and can just begin to make out those traveling upon the road.

Illan turns to Ceadric and says, “Take your riders and secure the road. Take out any caravans but leave the people alone. We’re not here to kill innocents.” He glances to James and receives an approving nod.

“Yes, sir,” Ceadric replies. Behind him ride two of the four men he’s designated as Raider Captains, both rode with Illan in his earlier campaign. One is Nerun, a grizzled old timer who still retains his strength and wits. The other is Wylick. Six foot six with just a peppering of