Adventurers Wanted, Book 4: Sands of Nezza (29 page)

He spoke a few soft words into the horse’s ear, calming the animal from the magic that had filled it just as it had filled him. The guards on the hilltop shifted their feet and formed up as if preparing for another fight.

Alex moved forward, his focus fixed on Hathnor and not on the men who were guarding him. Hearing the unexpected twang of a bowstring, his head jerked up. An arrow raced toward his chest, though it seemed to move slowly in his mind. One of Hathnor’s guards had panicked and let loose an arrow in fear.

With a wave of his hand, Alex dismissed the arrow, and it vanished in a flash of flame.

“You have nothing to fear from me,” Alex called.

Hathnor’s men looked terrified and did not reply. Alex moved forward once more, watching the guards. The men backed away from him, their weapons ready. Alex ignored them, dropping down beside Hathnor. A black arrow was sticking out of Hathnor’s shoulder, and his cloak was covered in blood.

“So, Skeld’s stories were true,” said Hathnor in a weak but calm voice. “I am glad I was able to see this magic for myself, before my end.”

“Don’t talk,” said Alex, his voice firm but kind. “You’ve a long way to go before your end, and this little scratch won’t slow you down too much.”

“The wound . . .” one of soldiers began but stopped, looking nervously at Alex. “The wound is deep, and Lord Hathnor has lost a lot of blood.”

“Yes,” said Alex. “Gather branches to make a drag. I will tend to his wound.”

The men hesitated, unsure of themselves and of Alex. Slowly, they did as Alex had instructed, mounting their horses and riding back to the woods.

Alex checked Hathnor’s shoulder, considering the best way to treat the wound.

“I can ride,” said Hathnor softly, his eyes unfocused.

“Rest,” Alex commanded, putting a spell of restful sleep on his friend.

Alex conjured several weir lights so he could see exactly how badly Hathnor was hurt. The guard was right; the arrow was deep, and the wound was still bleeding. Without considering how many of Lazar’s men might still be nearby, Alex conjured a fire and began mixing a potion. While the water heated, he pulled the arrow out of Hathnor’s shoulder, whispering a spell that would slow the loss of blood.

Hathnor’s guards returned to the hilltop with caution. The weir lights were still floating in the air, and it was clear that they frightened the soldiers.

“There is nothing to fear,” said Alex. “The lights are here only to assist me; there is no danger.”

Alex had finished his work on Hathnor. It had been a dangerous wound; if the arrow had been poisoned, Hathnor would have died. Instead, Hathnor lay sleeping under several blankets, his shoulder tightly bandaged, and his arm tied to his side to keep it from moving.

“Lord Hathnor?” one of the guards asked.

“He should rest for a few hours before we move him,” said Alex.

“He will live?” the man asked.

“Yes,” said Alex. “It will take some time for him to heal, but he will live.”

The soldiers seemed satisfied with Alex’s answer, but their eyes nervously returned again and again to the weir lights. They lashed together the branches they had brought back to the hill, making a drag for Hathnor.

Alex sat by the conjured fire, resting his body while searching the countryside with his mind. The few men who had escaped him were still running, terrified by what they had seen. He could feel no one else close by, but he cursed himself for not realizing how close the attackers had been.

“Forgive me, lord,” said one of the men, stepping toward Alex. “I did not mean to let the arrow fly.”

“You meant no harm by it, and none was taken,” said Alex. “I do not blame you for what happened. I know how the sword changes me.”

“I see now that the old stories do not come close to the truth,” said the man, looking at Alex with wide eyes.

Alex motioned for the men to sit down around the fire. They did so, but they seemed reluctant and unwilling to get too close to the conjured flames or the floating weir lights.

“Magic can be a wonderful thing,” said Alex. “It can do great good when used correctly.”

“And great evil when not,” the man who had shot the arrow added.

“Yes,” said Alex. “There is always a danger that magic will be misused. Magnus has misused his powers, but his days are numbered.”

“Will you destroy Magnus?” asked the youngest looking man.

“I will face him and break his power if I can,” said Alex. “If I prove to be stronger than Magnus, then I will destroy him.”

“These lights,” said the oldest man. “How is it they remain? How is it this fire burns without wood?”

“The lights are called weir lights,” Alex explained. “They remain because I summoned them to help me see Hathnor’s wound. I conjured the fire to help me heat water to treat the wound. This is only simple magic. If time had allowed, I would have used wood for the fire and sunlight to see the wound.”

“And these lights obey your commands?” asked the youngest man.

“Yes,” said Alex. “They go where I go, or where I tell them to go. When I no longer need them, I will put them out, like the fire.”

“They are illusion, then?” asked the oldest man.

“Not exactly. The light and the heat from the fire are real,” said Alex. “Some magic is illusion, some is not. Magnus is using illusion to make Lazar’s army appear larger than it really is. But illusion is just a trick of the eyes. Lazar’s pretend army cannot do anything but appear to be there. Still, he hopes the deception will cause Lords Caftan and Shelnor to surrender, or at least abandon the gap of Luthan.”

“How can a man know what is illusion and what is real?” asked the youngest man.

“It is difficult at times,” Alex answered. “Most illusions have some flaw in them. No illusion can be touched or felt, as you feel the warmth of the fire.”

“This is all strange and new to us,” said the oldest man, poking a stick at the fire Alex had conjured.

“I understand,” said Alex. “Once I did not believe in magic of any kind. Now I know there is magic, both good and evil. It is up to all of us to decide which is which for ourselves.”

The men fell silent, and Alex watched as the oldest man took his burning stick out of the conjured flames. He examined it for a moment and then blew it out like a match.

Alex continued searching the lands around them with his mind. Hathnor would have to be carried on the drag, slowing their progress. Even if they could somehow make good time, it would be impossible for them to run away from another group of Lazar’s men.

“We should go,” said Alex at last. “Night is coming to its end, and we still have many miles to travel.”

The men all stood up and lifted Hathnor onto the drag they had made. Alex told them to bind him down so he would not slide or be bounced off. Once this was done, Alex put out the fire and the weir lights with a wave of his hand, and they started off into the darkness.

Alex rode beside Hathnor, letting the oldest of the guards lead the company. They avoided the wooded areas they came to as much as they could. Alex continued to try to sense any danger in the land around them. It was difficult work, trying to feel out the enemy, mostly because of the high emotions of the men around him.

The sun rose in front of them, but they did not stop to rest. They all knew that they had to hurry, but dragging Hathnor along behind his horse was slowing them down. It was nearly midday before Alex allowed them to stop.

As the soldiers busied themselves preparing some food, Alex checked on Hathnor. He was still asleep, but he looked peaceful. Alex chose to leave the sleeping spell on him, knowing that rest was more important to his healing than food.

“It will be dark before we reach the gap,” said the man who had been leading them.

“It cannot be helped,” said Alex.

There was no more talk, and soon they were on their way again. Alex felt the need to hurry, but he could not leave Hathnor behind. It was unlikely that Caftan or Shelnor would believe anything he said if he turned up alone. He pushed away his desire to rush forward and fixed his eyes on the mountains to his right. They were getting smaller, and Alex knew they were getting close to the gap of Luthan.

The hours passed, and the sun began to sink in the west. Alex’s muscles suddenly tightened as he felt something different than what he had felt all day.

“Be ready,” Alex said to the soldiers around him.

“Is someone coming?” asked the youngest man.

“They are close,” said Alex. “If they are Lazar’s men, I will deal with them. Stay with Hathnor and ride on to the gap.”

“As you command,” answered the oldest man.

Alex watched, looking for any sign of who was coming. It wasn’t long before several banners appeared from a nearby wood, carried by men who rode toward them.

“They are Lord Caftan’s men,” said the oldest man in a relieved tone.

Alex and the soldiers stopped and waited for Lord Caftan’s men to approach them. As the soldiers came forward, Alex noticed how much they looked like Talbot’s men.

“Declare yourselves,” the leader of this new group called, stopping a short distance away.

“Lord Hathnor of Talbas,” the oldest soldier called back. “We come with a message from King Rallian.”

The leader of Caftan’s men came forward. He looked at each of them in turn. Alex could tell that this was a careful man, not willing to simply accept their word that they were from the king.

“Your lord is injured,” said the man.

“We were attacked by Lazar’s men last night,” said the old soldier. “Lord Hathnor was struck by an arrow.”

When the leader of Caftan’s men did not reply at once, Alex became impatient.

“How far is it to the camp of your lord?” Alex asked.

The man looked at Alex. “Not far,” he said after a pause.

“Lead us there, quickly,” Alex commanded. “We have been too long in getting here, and Lord Hathnor has an urgent message from the king.”

“And who are you to give such commands?” asked the man.

“A friend of King Rallian, and a wizard with little time for foolishness,” said Alex, shifting his staff in his hand.

“The wizard,” said the man, his eyes growing wide. “Yes, we’ve been told of you. We will lead you to Lords Caftan and Shelnor.”

The man turned to ride back to his fellows. In seconds they formed a circle around Alex and his companions. Alex thought it a bit odd, but he could feel no deception in Caftan’s men. As soon as the circle was formed, the captain led the group forward once more. So it was that Alex and Hathnor came to the camp of Lords Caftan and Shelnor as honored guests and prisoners at the same time.

Chapter Eighteen

Caftan and Shelnor

The armies of Caftan and Shelnor were well laid out, and Alex could see that the men were ready for the coming battle. Everywhere he looked, he saw men in armor, sharpening weapons and testing bows. The thought of battle made Alex sad, but part of him also felt the excitement of battle, the excitement of the dragon. He forced his emotions down, holding them back so that he would be calm when he spoke with Caftan and Shelnor.

Once they arrived, the leader of the soldiers that had escorted them dismissed his men and led Alex and Talbot’s men to a large tent in the middle of the camp. He dismounted and then spoke to another guard before addressing Alex and his companions. While the man was speaking to the guard, Alex dismounted and woke Hathnor from his enchanted sleep.

Hathnor blinked a few times, a confused look on his face. “Where are we?”

“We are in the camp of Lords Caftan and Shelnor,” said Alex as he untied Hathnor from the drag. “How are you feeling?”

“Alive,” said Hathnor with a weak smile.

“Good,” said Alex. “I hope you’re strong enough to speak to Caftan and Shelnor. They will be calling for you soon.”

“I am strong enough for that,” answered Hathnor. He looked worn and pale, but his voice was determined.

Alex helped Hathnor to his feet and made sure he was strong enough to stand before letting go. Alex knew that his friend needed more rest, but right now there wasn’t any time.

“Lord Hathnor, Lords Caftan and Shelnor bid you welcome and ask that you and your men come to them,” said the man who had led them to the camp. “They also ask that your wizard friend wait here. They promise the wait will be a short one.”

Alex nodded his acceptance and motioned for Hathnor’s men to come forward and help their lord into the tent. Once he was alone, Alex turned his attention toward the gap of Luthan. He knew Lazar’s army was out there and moving this way, but it looked as if they had not made it to the gap yet. He hoped that Stonebill had managed to slow them down, and he wondered what his friend was doing now.

As Alex waited, he noticed several of the guards around the tent of Caftan and Shelnor watching him. It seemed obvious that they knew who and what he was, and he wondered what Rallian had told Caftan and Shelnor about him. After a few moments, Caftan’s guard returned and politely asked him to come and speak with Lords Caftan and Shelnor.

Alex followed the man without speaking. There were more guards inside the tent, all looking serious and worried. Alex was glad to see that Hathnor had been given a chair to sit in. He looked at the large table in the center of the tent and saw Lords Caftan and Shelnor for the first time. He was only a little surprised by their appearance. There was a clear family resemblance between them, and to Lord Talbot as well.