The Mage of Trelian (16 page)

Jakl screamed again and circled around, searching for the catapult that had fired at them.

While he did, Meg scanned the battle below, looking for Trelian soldiers in trouble. If she saw any of their team in difficulty, Jakl either swooped in to pluck them out or picked up soldiers from elsewhere and carried them to wherever they were needed. This was essential, because they were so vastly outnumbered. She knew that if they distracted or disabled enough of Lourin’s force immediately at the entrance to the pass, there was a good chance that the Kragnir soldiers would be able to fight through and join the battle, but until then, the Trelian soldiers were on their own. Meg’s dragon’s-eye view of the fighting let her see where men were most needed and from where they could most be spared. And in between, she let Jakl terrify the enemy, flying low and disrupting their formations, shooting flame just close enough to singe them, sometimes just picking up random Lourin soldiers and depositing them elsewhere . . . like in a ditch. Or a pond. Or at the top of a very tall tree.

Eventually she had the startling realization that she was having fun.

No matter how the Lourin soldiers tried to organize themselves, Meg and Jakl could swoop in and put their plans in complete disarray. She laughed as Jakl darted down and made yet another formation of soldiers scatter, screaming and running for their lives. Jakl could kill them in a heartbeat, and although he hadn’t killed a single enemy soldier so far, they surely knew that he could. They ran, as they should, and it was glorious.

Meg and Jakl circled back around so she could look and see where they were needed next. Then the world lurched as Jakl dodged another fireball launched from a catapult. And then another.

They flew higher up, out of range, but that put them too far away to be useful. Lourin had rallied, finally understanding that keeping the dragon at bay was their only hope of success. Meg kept trying to bring them closer, but the catapults were firing faster and faster, and all of them were now directed at Jakl.

They circled again and again, but there was too much enemy fire — they couldn’t fly down to assist the Trelian forces.

All right,
she thought.
Time for the catapults to go.
She hadn’t wanted to focus on them until she had to, since that would mean leaving her fellow soldiers without the dragon’s protection, but clearly she couldn’t put it off any longer. She couldn’t do anything to help with those fireballs flying at them.

Another came hurtling toward them as she watched, and Jakl dodged violently sideways, letting it fly past. He didn’t like those things any more than she did.

“The catapults!” she screamed at Jakl. “Now!”

Jakl screamed in response and flew down, swooping between fireballs and targeting first one catapult and then another. They were made mostly of wood, and when the dragon’s fire enveloped them, they caught immediately.

Now, if they could just get them all, Lourin would have no way left to keep Meg and her dragon out of the fighting.

They knew it, too. The remaining catapults were firing twice as fast, forcing Jakl to dive and swerve constantly. But he kept circling back, and soon enough he set another one on fire. And then another.

She could see the Trelian soldiers pressing inward, forcing their advantage. The Lourin soldiers were torn between trying to fend off Captain Varyn and his men and trying to protect the catapults. Volleys of arrows came streaming up at them, but they bounced harmlessly off Jakl’s scales, and he didn’t let a single one get close to Meg.

But the arrows kept coming, and so did the fireballs sent from the catapults. Some of the arrows were on fire, now, too. It was getting harder for Jakl to dodge them. He started to circle up higher, out of range.

No!
Meg thought at him.
Keep going! We have to get them all!

He obeyed, but the remaining catapults were very well guarded now. The arrows came almost constantly. And the fireballs were coming more quickly as well. Meg felt the searing heat of one as it passed mere inches from her head.

But the Trelian soldiers were still advancing, and she could see that the plan was working. The Lourin soldiers were so focused on fending off the dragon that there weren’t enough of them paying attention to the men on the ground.

Jakl attacked the catapults with everything he had, twisting in the air to avoid enemy fire and screaming defiance at every turn. Meg held on for all she was worth. Despite everything, the speed and the power and the — what had Captain Varyn said? The ferocity. Despite everything, all of that was wonderful. Jakl was doing what he was born to do, and Meg was loving it every bit as much as he was.

There were only two of the catapults left. If they could take those out, they’d be free to go back to assisting the rest of their company. The arrows were far easier to dodge than the fireballs, and easier still when they were all Meg and Jakl had to worry about. Jakl only had to stop the arrows from hitting Meg, after all. The fireballs were a different matter. Those could hurt him, as well.

Meg pressed herself flat against Jakl’s back and urged him onward. He dived, and although some of the archers stood their ground, the majority broke as they saw his enormous, terrifying form coming straight at them. They scattered, and Jakl turned back around before they could regroup. He shot a stream of dragonfire at one of the catapults, and Meg shouted in triumph as it went up in a
whoosh
of flame.

One more to go.

They circled around again. Meg clung to Jakl’s back, feeling even more a part of him than she usually did. They were invincible.
Take that, King Gerald!
she thought in exultation. One more catapult, and then it would just be a matter of time. Lourin’s blockade forces would be defenseless against Meg and her dragon, and they would be forced to surrender. And then the Kragnir soldiers would be able to join them, and they could all go back home.

Jakl dived again, and Meg closed her eyes and let herself get lost in the speed and the fury and the
flying.
She felt Jakl inhale, preparing to let loose the flame that would destroy the final catapult and turn everything in their favor. And then she felt a searing pain in her right shoulder, and then she realized that she was falling.

Jakl screamed, in fear and pain this time, and Meg opened her eyes to see him racing toward her, diving down, struggling to reach her before . . . before . . .

Before I hit the ground,
she thought.

Oh. Oh, no.

She was facing up, and she couldn’t tell how far away the ground was. She didn’t try to turn. She kept her eyes on her dragon, waiting for him to reach her. Of course he would reach her. She kept her eyes on him, calmly, patiently, not thinking about how far below her the ground might be. Until another bright burst of agony erupted in her left thigh, tearing a ragged scream from her lungs.

Hit, I’m hit! That . . . that wasn’t . . . I wasn’t supposed to . . .

Everything had gone strangely silent. She was tumbling, turning in the air, and there was the ground; she could see it now. There were soldiers shouting and running and the ground was rushing up at her and she wanted to turn the other way, she wanted to see her dragon, she wanted to not be falling, to not be on fire — was she on fire? She felt like she was on fire. She kept tumbling, the world and the sky spinning around her. It was like flying, but not at all like flying. It was terrifying. Why hadn’t Jakl caught her yet?

The ground was getting closer, and everything was getting dark. Meg’s last thought was that it couldn’t be getting dark; it was still so early. She had to get home, had to be there to make sure the mages didn’t give up on Calen. Nighttime was when the crows went out. She had to be home by then.

But the darkness kept coming, all around her. And then everything went black. And she didn’t think anything else at all.

T
HE CROW CAME AGAIN SOON AFTER.

Serek and Anders had not come up with any other brilliant ideas. Or any ideas at all. Which was a shame, because it meant that they would probably have to go with Calen’s idea.

That made him very, very nervous.

Also, he wasn’t sure it would work.

Those things did not seem like insurmountable obstacles to Serek and Anders, apparently.

Calen sat on the balcony next to the crow, tossing little pebbles over the edge. The crow pecked at his shirt, looking for bread. Calen ignored him.

His idea, of course, was trying to transport himself all the way back to Trelian. He thought that if they picked a location that they could keep absolutely clear, he could jump into it with little fear of finding himself half-embedded in anyone or anything, even though he wouldn’t be able to see where he was jumping to.

It was probably safe enough, assuming they picked the right location. And that nothing unexpected happened at the last minute.

Why would anything unexpected happen? Just because there’s a multikingdom war going on, and another war brewing between the Magistratum and Mage Krelig; and oh, yes, you’re locked away in some
long-abandoned castle with a crazy person and several traitorous mages.

Calen put his head in his hands.

They had to try it. They were running out of time.

Unfortunately, the other problem involved a little more than just talking himself into trying something that terrified him. He was pretty certain that he wouldn’t be able to jump from inside Krelig’s castle. He was sure there’d be magic of some kind to prevent that kind of thing. Which meant that he’d somehow have to get outside the castle. Which was possible . . . but Krelig would know.

Calen knew this for certain now, because when Cheriyon had walked out two days ago, Krelig had known instantly. Calen had assumed that Krelig had wards around the castle, and simple alarm wards — the kinds that would let you feel when someone passed through them — would have been very easy to maintain, hardly requiring any energy or attention at all from someone that powerful. Krelig had been in the middle of lecturing them about there being no place for fear or timidity in battle or really at any other time either, and suddenly he’d gotten this faraway look and then turned and left the room. The rest of them had waited, looking uncertainly at one another. After several minutes they heard what sounded like Cheriyon’s voice raised in desperate pleading, coming from outside.

“By the gods,” Lestern said, his voice shaking. “I can’t believe he really did it.”

“Did what?” Helena asked at once.

Lestern swallowed and looked around at them. “Left. Or . . . tried to leave. I thought he was just angry . . . I never believed . . .”

Helena ran to the window. “I think they’re by the front gate,” she said. “I can’t quite see from here —”

She broke off at the sound of Cheriyon’s faint, terrified scream.

And then there was only silence.

Helena moved quickly away from the window.

Several minutes later, Krelig returned and informed them that Mage Cheriyon would no longer be training with them. Then he went back to his lecture.

They sneaked glances at one another, but no one dared ask any questions. Mage Lestern’s face had gone pale, but even he continued to behave as though nothing had happened. Calen had assumed that Cheriyon had still been recovering from his harsh lesson the other day, but if Lestern was right, Cheriyon had decided that training with Mage Krelig was more than he’d bargained for. And apparently Mage Krelig had not been willing to let him go.

Horrible as that was, Calen understood the logic. Krelig couldn’t just let one of them walk out, knowing where he was located. And if Cheriyon had made it clear that he didn’t want to stay . . .

Calen forced himself to pay attention. Cheriyon didn’t matter; he was gone. And he’d given the rest of them some valuable, if not especially surprising, information.

The other essential piece of information for Calen had come earlier this afternoon.

Mage Krelig had been having them practice transporting one another. There were ways to protect against being transported against your will, which he also taught them, but he explained that at least at first, their enemies wouldn’t think to protect themselves. The no-transporting-people rules were so deeply ingrained in these “mages” (Krelig always said that word in a tone of voice that indicated he didn’t think it truly applied) that they wouldn’t imagine that anyone would break those rules.

Krelig pointed to several mages and told them to stand in the center of the room. Then he forbade them to protect themselves and explained that the rest of the group would now practice transporting them.

Helena was one of the mages selected.

She shot Calen a panicked glance as she went to go stand with the others. Krelig noticed, and Calen wondered whether Helena would be punished for it. But Krelig only seemed amused.

“Calen,” he said, “why don’t you go first?”

He didn’t tell Calen whom to practice on, and so Calen focused on Helena. He trusted his own abilities far more than he trusted most of the others, and he didn’t want one of them accidentally transporting Helena into a wall. He still didn’t
like
her; it wasn’t anything like that. But she was the best sparring partner he had. He didn’t want anything to happen to her.