The Zulani Empire: The New Chronicles of Elemental Magic (14 page)

The priest, happy with his first selection walked the line again. He was pleased he was spoiled for choice. He normally only took two for his own pleasure, but with such a choice he was thinking he might have to choose a couple more. After pacing up and down a dozen times, he finally settled on two more. A young boy of fourteen and an older man in his late twenties, were both dragged forward and had the magical bracelet placed around their wrists. Both were then ordered indoors.

Those that remained would undergo strict mental conditioning. They would be forced to drink a potion that the imperial leader of the Zulani had developed himself. This potion would ensure the mind of the man drinking it was much more pliable and open to suggestion. Once the minds of these men were completely under control of the Zulani, their combat training would begin. This was the way the Zulani kept their numbers up. Losing men in battle did not matter quite so much to them as it would the armies they conquered.

Chapter 18.

As the final light of day disappeared from what had been a very tiring day for Luca, he settled down to sleep. The small flicker of light given off by the lamp in the tent was just enough to see Oliver removing his clothes and slip into the narrow bed beside his own. Happy his friend was ready, he extinguished the flame with a click of his fingers. "Sleep tight Oliver," he said trying to get into a comfortable position. "You too Luca Sir," came the reply in the darkness.

Even though Luca was settled for the night, he could still hear the noises outside his tent. He could hear the soft mumbling of voices as they passed by, and then disappear off into the night. He lay there wondering what the next day might bring. Today had been the first time he had used his powers to cause destruction. It had not been how he had ever envisaged using them. He had grown up thinking of using fire and earth to help make and build things. More importantly, he had hoped to use his gift to heal and help others. The latter he had done to some degree, and saving the lives of the soldiers was some small recompense for the lives he had taken.

He could hear the soft breathing of Oliver just beside him, and was beginning to think he was not going to get any sleep. He lay on his back staring up into the darkness for a while, before deciding to quietly get up. Without making any noise, he pulled on his trousers, grabbed a shirt and his boots, and headed outside. He checked back to try to hear if he had disturbed Oliver, and was relieved to hear the young man still breathing softly.

He quickly pulled on his boots and pulled on his shirt. The night air was much cooler than he had thought it might be, and he rubbed his arms to warm them. He was surprised to see two guards still on duty just outside his tent. They noticed him emerge and straightened as he stood between them. He took a deep breath of the night air, before stepping away from the tent. As he walked, he turned to see the two guards follow him. He was about to ask why they thought Oliver was not worthy of a guard, but decided against saying anything. He thought they were probably only following somebody else's orders, and he should not make a fuss about it.

He was surprised by how much activity still went about the camp, despite the late hour. Dozens of campfires burned, and around most of them, groups of men talked quietly. He could see around the outer edges, shadows of men moving slowly around the perimeter of the camp on guard duty. Luca however had decided to go back to the part of the camp where the wounded were gathered.

There were still a handful of medical personnel on duty, and he stopped one to ask if any of the wounded were seriously so. He was taken to a group of men at the far end of the line, "These few here will probably not see out the night," the man directing him said quietly. Luca however, planned that if he had anything to do with it, they all would.

After asking for water, he knelt down beside his first patient. He lit a small candle with the tip of his finger and even in the poor light it gave off could see the horrifying injuries the man had sustained. Half of his face had been savagely bitten and after lifting a bandage from the man's neck, he noticed half of that was missing. Blood was clearly leaking from the wound, and without a way to stop it, he would surely bleed to death.

Luca poured a little water over the patient and placed his hand near the wound on the neck. This would surely be a test for his skills. He concentrated first on knitting together the veins and arteries, stopping any further loss of blood. Next, he moved the water over the man's skin in an attempt at repairing some of the damage. He may not be able to heal it entirely, but he could certainly give the man a good chance. If all went well the man would be left with a few battle scars and nothing more. It took him nearly twenty minutes just on this one patient, and he wanted to do as many as he could.

Luca was uncertain as to how many hours had passed. He had managed to heal several of the more severely wounded. He stood to go and do another when he sensed Oliver was awake and worrying. He tried to think a message to him, letting him know not to worry, to his surprise it appeared to work. He had never tried actually talking to Oliver with his mind before. There had always been that sense of knowing when the other was in distress, but this was something much more. He tried to think of another message for Oliver. He thought the words, telling him that he was healing the wounded. He afforded a smile when Oliver's words appeared in his mind. 'You are supposed to be resting Luca Sir' they said.

Deciding he had probably seen to all the life threatening injuries anyway, Luca sent Oliver the message he was returning. The young Darekian appeared appeased by the words, and Luca could feel the anxiety leave Oliver's mind. As he left the sick, the two guards who had remained close by once more dropped in behind him. As he walked back, Luca was certain he could see Oliver stood at the entrance of their tent waiting for him.

In the Zulani camp, the priest who had been forced to retreat knelt before a fire. He placed his staff on the ground before him, and removed a ring from his pocket. Slowly slipping the ring on his finger, he closed his eyes. He needed to report the day's disastrous events to the imperial leader. 'What is it?' came the words. "Oh great leader," the priest uttered, before explaining what had happened.

It was clear the Imperial leader was not impressed. 'How is this possible?' the words bellowed in the priests mind. The priest shook, knowing failure by one who served the leader usually meant severe punishment. "I cannot fight such a power oh great leader," the priest spoke aloud, hoping it did not spark an outrage. There was a short silence and the priest was beginning to fear the worst. 'I will deal with this magician. You will have to amalgamate your force with the second landing, and continue your task from there.' The priest explained he had managed to send out several raiding groups before being forced to retreat. The conversation ended with a warning however, 'Fail again and the punishment will be most severe.'

In a far off land, the self-proclaimed Imperial Leader of the Zulani Empire, known better by the name of Gordred, was left pondering his priest's failure. He had been aware of a young man some years back who had been under the tutorage of one of his brothers. He was also under the impression that both his brother, Sandred and the young man in question had perished. He was certainly not aware of any wielder of magic within the nations he was attacking. He only did so now as a result of years of planning and preparation, and only because Sandred was no longer there to stop him.

If his priest had spoken truthfully, any man who could wipe out an entire army with a wave of his hand was going to cause major problems. This was something he would have to sort out; yet quite how he would achieve this he was not yet sure. He was capable of creating a portal using his own magic, yet was unable to travel through himself, as he needed to hold the gateway open. This left him with a quandary as to what to send forth that might have success against a powerful magician.

After several minutes of contemplation, he decided on a course of action. He would send two of his assassins to complete this little task. Blessed with his magic, they moved between the shadows of the night, almost invisible to the human eye. Armed with poison covered blades, these were people he had used before to discreetly remove people whom he considered non-essential to his cause. He also thought how else sending them into Corlan could benefit his cause. Once the primary target was eliminated, he would give them secondary ones.

He did not have to wait long before he was ready to send his silent assassins. The two men appeared to almost blend in to whatever background they stood before. Gordred closed his eyes and mumbled a chant; a window of shimmering light appeared. "Go find this wielder of magic and slay him or anyone that gets in your way," he ordered. The two figures stepped swiftly from the room into the magical gateway, and disappeared. They emerged into darkness beside a camp that was lit by dozens of campfires. Gordred stumbled a little as the portal before him closed. Using magic such as this took great power, holding one open for more than a few seconds at a time could deplete one's energy levels very quickly.

The two assassins moved swiftly through the darkness. The guards patrolling the perimeter were none the wiser to them being there. Moving amongst the shadows, they headed for the larger tent at the centre of the camp. This they deemed would be the obvious place for any important figure to be sleeping. Passing by the soldiers sat chatting around campfires as unseen and as swift as the wind.

Oliver was stood outside the tent, waiting for Luca to return. Dressed only from the waist down he smiled when he thought he could see him some hundred yards away in darkness. Oliver felt a strange sensation as if someone had brushed past him. He turned sharply to his left in an attempt at seeing what had touched him. He saw a flash of silver flash before his eyes, and tried to lean back to avoid it. He felt a burning sensation across his chest as he held a hand up to protect himself.

Luca immediately felt his friend's pain. "Oliver is in trouble," he shouted running as quickly as he could. The two guards with him had no choice but to sprint behind him. Several others who had been lazing around their campfires saw them running, and joined the chase clearly noticing something was not right. Luca felt Oliver was hurting badly, but still alive.

Oliver fell to the ground; two deep cuts across his chest were dripping blood. He looked up and could see a dark figure staring down at him, and another stood just behind watching on. A flash of silver caught his eye again, this time it did not strike him. Oliver thrust his hand out in defence and grabbed an arm. Visions, pictures of strange faces filled his mind, and he quickly let go. Luca felt a strong fear, both his own and that of Oliver. He ran as fast as his legs could go. With all the power that he had at his disposal, he could not make himself go any faster. As he neared to twenty paces from the tent, he could see a man lying on the floor. He thought he could see a dark shape stood over it, and a flicker of silver light.

He felt a strange sensation as he lifted his hand. A flash of flame appeared before him as he slowed. He was confused, where had the flame come from? He certainly had not released the fire. The dark shape he had seen suddenly burst into flame. The figure of a burning man let out a scream of agony before slumping to the ground.

Luca wasted no time on the burning figure, but dropped down onto his knees to look at his friend. "Oliver," he said lifting the man's head in his hand. He looked his friend in the eye, before casting his gaze down to the cuts across his chest. "Get me some water," Luca cried out, "Quickly," he added with more than a hint of desperation in his voice. He glanced over at the burning corpse of the fallen man, still unsure as to what had just happened.

From a short distance away, the second assassin watched on as their target was downed. However, in doing so it appeared his colleague had been caught by the magician they were sent to kill. Knowing the blades they used were poisoned, he was satisfied the mission was complete. He had never known any man survive the merest cut of their blades. With the knowledge the target was either dead or dying, the assassin moved further back from the growing crowd of people. They had been given further targets to eliminate once this one had been done so.

Luca looked down, and even in the poor light given off by the flames of the burning body, could see the life draining away from his friend. As soon as he was handed a canteen of water, he tipped it over Oliver's bleeding chest. The blood ran down the sides of his body as the water trickled. Luca immediately placed his hand over the bloodied area and closed his eyes. The wounds upon Oliver's chest were not particularly deep, and were something he would normally not class as life threatening. However, it was clear Oliver was struggling.

The young Darekian's body arched up, and started shaking. Panic set in to Luca, and he felt that same feeling of hopelessness he had endured during Hope's kidnapping. He felt his eyes welling with tears as he scanned Oliver's insides in his mind. What was causing this? His lungs were clear of obstruction, so why was breathing becoming rapidly shallow. Oliver's heart started racing, and then abruptly stopped.

Luca felt as if part of himself was being ripped from his own body. He thumped hard down on Oliver's chest. Using his magic, he then found the problem. Poison in Oliver's blood stream. First, he needed to get the heart started again. With a new sense of importance and knowing, he set about his task. He massaged Oliver's heart with his powers, and was glad to see it respond. The moment he had it beating again, albeit at a very slow rate, he began working his way through the miles of veins and arteries that made up the human body.

As he went, he found small amounts of poison, which he washed away. The more he cleaned Oliver's blood the more steady the heartbeat seemed to get. Luca spent a long time going through every bit of the body to make sure he had removed all the poison. Only once he was satisfied Oliver's blood was clean did he eventually relax.

This had certainly been the most draining and complicated healing he had ever done. With all the power he had used healing the injured soldiers before, and now this, Luca felt so weak. Oliver was at least alive although his eyes were closed and he still lay motionless. With every last bit of energy in his body, Luca tried to lift Oliver off the cold damp ground. The soldiers around stepped up to help, and carried the injured man inside the tent.

Luca followed them in and thanked them as they lay his friend down on one of the narrow beds. "Can you leave us now please," he asked barely having the strength to speak. The soldiers bowed their heads and left him alone with Oliver. Luca first undid Oliver's trousers and removed them, before covering his lower body with a blanket. He ran his fingertips over where the knife had slashed his chest. He moved the lamp a little nearer to see more clearly. Aside from a few thin lines of paler skin where he had healed the cuts, it was barely visible. He placed his palm down on Oliver's chest and held it there feeling it rise and fall as he breathed.