Trail of the Gods_ The Morcyth Saga Book Four - Brian S. Pratt [145]
“James!” he hears Jiron exclaim. Opening his eyes a fraction, he sees the men arrayed before them. Damn! Closing his eyes once more, he abruptly changes tactics.
From the tales he’s heard of this mage he was at first worried about meeting him head to head. True, he was a mage of some power in his own right, trained by the Empire’s greatest living masters. When as a boy he had been tested along with others whom they felt had real potential, he was the only one to be selected for their School of the Arcane.
He first came to hear of this rogue mage when Zythun had been killed in the cataclysmic explosion at the City of Light. Not only killing him but taking out a good third of the forces which had been sent with him.
Then several more of their brethren had perished in duels with this man, leaving only a handful of full Adepts left in the Empire. The others he can understand him besting, they were not as powerful as Zythun had been, but Zythun? He was one of the most powerful and skilled of all the Adepts. Only a few could claim to be better.
So when he first felt the rogue mage on the plains of Kern, he felt dread come over him, as if his doom was nigh. He didn’t expect to live through the encounter as he rode out to keep him from reaching the protection of the Cardri army. Yet, the rogue mage has done nothing he’s been unable to counter. In fact, he seems to be getting the better of him in the struggle for the winds.
Pushing the winds toward the mage, driving the fire to consume him, he can feel the force of the mage’s power begin dwindling, as if he’s already used too much of his inner power. Encouraged, he continues attempting to wrest total control of the winds from this upstart.
Sudden movement from the flames ahead of him catches his eye and he slows his horse. Pausing not ten feet from the inferno, he scans the flames ahead of him. Something’s odd about the flames, though he can’t quite put his finger on it.
Suddenly, lurching out of the flames toward him, walks a six foot tall figure of flame. Staggering awkwardly, the fiery figure moves quickly as it closes the distance between them.
Neighing in fear, his horse rears backward at the fire creature’s approach and knocks him off. Hitting the ground hard, the mage lands on his leg at the wrong angle and the bone snaps. The pain breaks his concentration and he feels the rogue mage wrest complete control of the winds.
Looking up from his position on the ground, he sees the lumbering figure of fire coming for him. Crying out from pain as the fiery figure’s hand touches him, he tries to scoot backward in a vain attempt at escape. But the fire continues up his arm until he’s engulfed in a fiery embrace and his screams echo across the plains as the flames consume him.
Keeping his eyes closed, pain erupting from behind his forehead from creating and maintaining the fire creature, he tries to stay on this side of consciousness. With the mage’s death, he’s now in total control of the winds. Struggling against the pain which threatens to break his concentration, he directs the winds to push the fire back toward the Empire’s approaching troops. He can feel more than see them beat a hasty retreat as the fire changes directions and moves rapidly toward them.
Opening his eyes a fraction, he sees Jiron and Aleya slightly ahead of him riding fast toward the line of Cardri troops. Archers are putting arrows to string and the pikemen in the front line lower their pikes, forming an impenetrable wall of death.
James slows his horse and when the others take notice, they slow theirs as well. Still in control of the winds, he increases their velocity between them and the soldiers.
“They’re Cardri’s!” Aleya yells at him. “The forces from Kern!”
Nodding that he understands, he again closes his eyes and concentrates. Sweat is pouring down his face as he pushes the winds into