The Sorcerer's Destiny (The Sorcerer's Path) (31 page)

“A threat to whom though?”

“To whomever he chooses.”

***

Peck and his two fellow riders, Kaitlin and Byron, sat wearily in their saddles, leaving a slight haze of dusty air behind them. The group, one of five riding to the numerous small towns and hamlets to warn of the impending invasion, had been travelling for days with very little sleep and ate their meals almost exclusively from horseback. They rode from town to town, urging the citizens to flee to either Brelland or Brightridge before following an often circuitous route to the next point on their map.

“Fowler’s Creek should be less than an hour ahead,” Peck said as he studied his map, “then we have to hit Gifford’s Hollow. After that, it’s a straight run to Brelland.”

Kaitlin groaned. “I am going to soak in tub for an entire day without moving. I’ll have my meals delivered to me on a floating tray.”

“I am going to annex a kitchen somewhere and eat until I burst,” Byron stated. “I think these trail rations were made by a sadistic mason. What are you going to do first, Peck?”

“Give thanks to Solarian that we made it and pray we survive this,” Peck responded.

“Do you think it’s started yet? Is North Haven already under attack?” Kaitlin asked, the thoughts of her luxurious bath quashed by Peck’s seriousness.

Peck shook his head. “I don’t know. Ellyssa said it wouldn’t take long. If the battle hasn’t started yet, it will soon.”

“I guess it’s lucky we got this job then,” Byron said without conviction.

“We’ll get ours soon enough. Like Azerick said, no one will be untouched by this war.”

“It doesn’t seem real, does it?” Kaitlin asked. “Forgotten gods coming back to avenge some ancient battle. Hordes of inhuman monsters raging across the land killing everyone they can find. When I first came to the school, I thought all the military training was kind of silly. Who were we preparing to fight, especially after they defeated those stupid mercenaries of Ulric’s? I guess Azerick knew we would have to fight someone again someday.”

“Why do we have to fight gods anyway?” Byron demanded. “Isn’t that why we have our own gods? We pray to them, offer tribute, and for what? It’s like going to restaurant and having to cook your own food.”

Peck said, “I guess the gods aren’t much different from us mortals. Kings start wars, but it’s people like us who have to fight them.”

“Do you guys smell smoke?” Kaitlin asked as the wind shifted and an acrid scent tainted the air.

Peck drew a cavalry saber of Sumaran design and pointed it toward their destination. “Look at the vultures circling up there. I think that’s Fowler’s Creek.”

“Smoke and buzzards is never a good sign. Could the fighting have gotten this far already?” Byron asked nervously as he cocked his light crossbow and set a bolt in place.

“I don’t think so, but these ravagers have attacked some towns before. It could be a small group managed to come ahead of the main body.”

“Should we turn around?”

Peck thought a moment. “No, it would take us a day out of our way, and we don’t know what’s going on. If the ravagers are here already, we need to report it to Brelland when we get there.”

“Kinda lookin’ like an
if
right now.”

“Way to stay positive, Byron,” Kaitlin admonished and loaded her crossbow as well.

The riders approached the town at a slow walk, straining their eyes and ears in search of danger. Their mounts’ ears flicked nervously, and their agitation was obvious in the rapid twitching of their muscles and frequent whickering. The smell of smoke grew more intense, and the haze burned their eyes and scratched at their throats as they drew near.

There were no active fires, but the remains of several buildings still smoldered, indicating the carnage had occurred only a few hours ago. Bodies littered the ground, human and a few ravagers, as well as the carcasses of any animal not swift enough to outrun the brutal creatures. It was a dire scene as the number of human dead vastly outnumbered those of the ravagers.

“Everything is dead,” Byron whispered. “All the people, the livestock, pets, everything.”

“Now you see why Azerick was so intense,” Peck said. “This is what is coming for us all. This is why we trained so hard.”

Kaitlin looked fiercely at the carnage and her voice caught as she spoke. “I want to kill them. I want to kill them all so bad right now.”

“We’re going to.”

“Do you think they attacked Gifford’s Hollow too?”

“I don’t know, but we’ll find out in a few hours.”

It took only minutes to cross through the town as they gave witness to the unending scene of destruction and death with every step. They were near the edge of town and looking up the road leading toward Gifford’s Hollow when the ravager attacked. It bounded from the charred remains of an inn and leapt at Byron.

Byron twisted in his saddle and loosed his crossbow at the creature, striking it in the chest while it was in midair. The strike did nothing to dampen its inertia or deflect its aim. The ravager’s jump easily carried it across the narrow street and struck horse and rider with enough force to bring them both down. Byron tried to deflect its curved blades as the ravager ignored its brutal wound and slashed at its prey.

Byron’s mount whinnied in terror, clamored to its feet, and bolted, its fear overwhelming its training. Kaitlin took aim and buried her quarrel in the creature’s neck, causing it to howl and arch back. Byron took advantage of the relief, drew his short sword, and stabbed the ravager repeatedly. The downed rider used his legs to shove the monster off him as it writhed and quickly succumbed to the numerous mortal wounds. Several howls arose in the distance and Peck made to leap from Newmoon’s back and help Byron up, but the wounded young man stopped him.

“Don’t, I’m done for.” Byron pulled his hand away from his stomach, and blood welled up from the vicious wound as he reloaded his crossbow. “Ride fast. Maybe I can get one more before I bleed out,” he gasped.

“Byron, no, we can get you out!” Kaitlin cried and made to ignore his insistence.

Peck leaned over and grabbed her mount by the bridle. “No, Kaitlin, he’s right. We need to get out of here. Byron, you’re going to be a hero, I promise.”

“I like the sound of that. Now git!”

With an anguished cry, Kaitlin wheeled her horse around, and she and Peck put their heels into their mounts’ flanks and raced away. Byron heard the shrill cry of his horse in the distance.

“Just for that, I’m going to kill two of you bastards before I die,” he promised the ravagers now bounding toward him.

He waited until the first ravager was nearly on top of him. Flecks of spittle from the creature’s slavering maw dotted his face before he squeezed the lever. The bolt struck the ravager in just beneath its chin and pierced its brain. Byron rolled, thrust up with his sword, and felt it dig into the flesh of another attacker. He did not know if he made good on his promise to kill two of them as he felt the sharp pain of blades pierce his body just before darkness took him.

Rolling thunder followed Peck and Kaitlin as their horses’ hooves beat the ground, kicking up dust and clods of dirt in their headlong flight from certain death. Tears streamed down their faces from the wind and the heartache of losing a companion, washing away the accumulated dust and dirt of several days’ constant riding. At least half a dozen ravagers bolted from the woods and beat a furious chase, howling and snarling their hatred. Although not quite as swift as their horses, it was clear they would not lose them easily.

Even as they raced ahead and could no longer see their pursuers, the riders could hear the ravagers’ howls and yips, and they were never far behind. It was nearly twenty miles to Gifford’s Hollow, and not even Newmoon could maintain a sprint that long. Three more attackers leapt onto the roadway ahead, blocking their path.

Peck looked quickly left and right. “This way!” he shouted and plunged off the road onto a game trail.

Peck and Kaitlin raced down the goat path, heedless of the branches brutally whipping their bodies and raising welts on exposed skin. Their hearts beat a rapid staccato matching the thrumming of their horses’ pounding hooves as they rode for their lives. The snapping of branches and the crashing through brambles and brush gave away the presence of the ravagers keeping pace beside them.

Peck heard a sudden change in their cadence as Kaitlin screamed and her mount whinnied in terror. In the split second it took him to glance over his shoulder, his friend was lost from sight. His heart screamed for him to go back, but his mind insisted it was already too late, and there was nothing he could do. He screamed at the wind and spurred Newmoon to his fullest potential, no longer holding back so Kaitlin could keep up.

Trees and underbrush flew by in blur, the stinging lashes across his face lost in the pain of his friends’ deaths. Newmoon managed to increase their lead despite the treacherous, narrow, twisting, path. If he could just get back to the road, Peck figured he could get enough of a lead to slow Newmoon to a sustainable pace that would carry them both to Gifford’s Hollow and hopefully some sort of help.

Peck heard the sound of rushing water not far ahead and spurred Newmoon on. Ravagers burst onto the trail only a few yards behind. Peck leaned low over Newmoon’s neck and cast quick glances at his pursuers. The roar of water became the dominant sound, and Peck spotted the source just ahead. The river cut a deep channel perhaps eighty feet across. A once majestic tree spanned the chasm, its upper surface shorn and worn flat by locals for use as a bridge. It was a treacherous crossing for a horse running at full gallop, but Peck had few other options.

With a slight prod and a shifting of his body, Peck urged his mount to leap onto the log. Newmoon dutifully obeyed and landed on the makeshift bridge with a feather-light touch. The log bounced unnervingly, but Newmoon raced across with the sure-footedness of the goats that typically used the crossing. The ravagers leapt onto the span as well, undeterred by the insignificant obstacle. Near the end of the bridge, Peck spun completely around in his saddle and snapped off a shot at the lead ravager with his crossbow. The bolt struck the creature in the chest, causing it to stumble. The mass of killers behind it plowed heedlessly onward, tripping over their wounded brethren and falling into water rushing beneath the bridge.

Newmoon was in mid-leap when Peck spun back forward in the saddle; neither of them put the least bit off-balance by his acrobatic riding. A dozen ravagers still gave pursuit and hounded the human through the forest of cottonwood trees and the occasional oak. Peck could feel Newmoon’s endurance flagging as he began to slow and his broad chest was worked up a lather. A ravager bounded up next to the horse and rider and prepared to take them both down. Peck grabbed the rope coiled and looped over the saddle horn and flung the lasso at the creature’s legs. He wrapped his end of the rope around the saddle horn and turned sharply to the right as the loop cinched around the ravager’s leg. Peck and Newmoon raced past a towering oak tree to the right while the roped ravager swung by on its left. Unable to overcome the inertia, the ravager began a furious tumble and whipped into the stout tree with a sickening thud. Peck tossed away his end of the rope before it snapped taut and pulled him down as well.

A ravager charged from the brush and slashed at Peck’s leg. Peck threw himself over the far side of the saddle, locked his foot in the stirrup, and clung to the cinch strap tightened around Newmoon’s belly. Freeing his saber from its sheath, he lunged and thrust several inches of his blade into the ravager’s flesh just behind the shoulder from beneath his galloping mount. On the ground, Peck was an average swordsman at best, but few could match his skill from horseback.

Peck pulled himself back into the saddle only to immediately lay himself back over Newmoon’s rump as a ravager came hurtling toward him. He thrust upward and opened the creature’s belly as it went sailing just over his prone body. Peck lurched upright and cast a furtive glance all around. He had gained some distance, but he could hear the ravagers crashing through the forest behind him, occasionally catching glimpses of movement through the trees and thick brush.

He could feel Newmoon’s labored breaths with his legs and heard the struggled wheezing. They were still several miles from Gifford’s Hollow, and he knew they would not make it. Newmoon was spent even though he refused to give up. It was only a matter of time before he collapsed, and Peck refused to let him die like that. They reached a clearing and Peck reined his mount in sharply. The sound of the ravagers crashing through the forest was all around him. Newmoon’s nostrils flared as his powerful lungs heaved like a pair of massive bellows and pawed at the ground.

Peck leaned over and patted Newmoon’s thick neck, the jet black hair soaked in a sweaty froth. “This is it, boy. We did our best.”

Half a score of ravagers crept from the woods and entered the clearing. They knew their quarry could run no farther and were in no hurry. It had been a grand chase, but now the game was almost over and they basked in their victory.

“You ready, boy?” Peck hefted his saber in in his left hand and the crossbow in the right. “Let’s do it! HA!”

Newmoon lowered his head, dug his hooves into the ground, and rocketed toward their foes. The ravagers lurched forward to meet him as the sound of others crashed in from behind him.

CHAPTER 16

Miranda looked at the generous amount of food spread across the long table within the castle’s elegant dining room. “I feel guilty eating in the palace dining hall when tens of thousands of our people are eating such simple fare in the streets or atop the walls.”

“Rank has its privileges, my dear,” General Brague stated flatly, “particularly when in garrison where resources are more readily available. Be thankful for it. We will all be sharing camp rations soon enough. Soldiers need to see their leaders standing strong and above the hardships of the common man. It gives them courage and something to focus on when we do step into the fray, risk our lives, and bloody our blades on our enemy. Wars are won within the hearts of men, not on the backs of mounts or the bodies dead upon the ground. Would you revere the gods if they toiled in the fields, filthy from simple labor and suffering the hardships of mortals?”