2
Slayn’s spell rang on quietly.
The spell of farsight enhanced human vision many times over, but it took a while for the brain to get used to it. Slayn looked up at the sky, closed his eyes to adjust his vision, then looked toward the road.
When he finally saw the scene laid out in front of him, he let out a groan.
“This is awful…”
The ground was stained black; charred bodies were strewn over the smoking earth. Slayn could almost smell the acrid stench of burnt flesh.
Slayn aimed his sight at the carriage. A woman in a purple dress stood there, waving her hands busily and ordering the men about. She wore a circlet on her forehead—clearly the craft of the ancient kingdom—and multiple clunky rings that were likely not mere jewelry. The staff she held was not a Sage’s staff, but was crafted from quality oak and carved with magical runes that he couldn’t quite make out.
She must be the one who cast that spell, Slayn thought.
“How is it?” he could hear Parn ask.
Slayn kept watching the woman, knowing it would be too difficult to readjust his line of sight, as he replied. “The Valis knights have been defeated. The only people moving right now are four of the warriors with the carriage and one woman. She must be the one who cast it.” Slayn paused, then said, “Destroying those Valis Holy Knights—she has some formidable power, indeed.”
“How could this happen…?” Parn whispered.
“I don’t know, but it did,” Slayn replied, matter-of-fact. He carefully scanned the area around the carriage again, then returned his focus to the woman still giving orders.
She seemed younger than Slayn, and quite pretty. The outward appearance of a wizard—especially a female one—couldn’t be trusted, of course, but demeanor could not be disguised, and the way she moved seemed youthful. It was possible that she was as young as she appeared.
Slayn was surprised that he’d never heard of such a powerful wizard…though looking at her, he couldn’t help but think that her face seemed familiar. He’d seen it recently…
“I remember now!” he shouted suddenly. “She was the one in the portrait—the one back at the abandoned mansion near Allan! The purple clothes, the circlet… She was even dressed the same. I think her name was Karla… Ghim, do you remember? You seemed quite taken with her.”
“I don’t even know what you’re talking about…and I can’t see this woman now, so it’s not like I can say,” Ghim grumbled, then said, “Let’s just hurry over—she’s our enemy, right? We should capture her before she escapes.” He pulled his battle axe off his back.
“Yeah!” Parn cried. “I bet she was sent by Marmo to infiltrate Valis for some reason! She must’ve done something really evil for the Holy Knights to be chasing her!” With that, Parn set off at a run.
“Wait!” Slayn commanded, uncommonly sharp. Parn skidded to a halt, like he’d been caught in a spell.
“What good will it do us to charge in now?” the wizard said. “She’s far more than you can handle. Did you forget? She just annihilated five Holy Knights.”
“But…” Parn started to protest, but Slayn’s severe glare stopped him.
“If you want to throw your life away, I won’t stop you,” Slayn continued. “But dying a pointless death is not courage. You need to live on to achieve your goals. Endure for now and wait for an opportunity.”
“But what if the opportunity is lost?” It was Ghim, not Parn, who spoke—his voice was quiet but simmered with intensity.
“I’m just saying that this is not the time. Why are you so worked up about this, anyway? I would understand if it were Parn…”
“I have my reasons,” Ghim mumbled, and started running along toward the battlefield again. Parn glanced apologetically at Slayn, then started after Ghim. Deedlit and Etoh followed right after.
“Made him mad, huh, Mister Wizard?” Woodchuck whispered, sidling up to him. “I, for one, agree with you—so let’s stay back here, yeah?” The thief’s voice in Slayn’s ear was almost like a devil on his shoulder.
“I can’t do that,” Slayn answered—mostly to remind himself—and ran after the others. “I won’t make the same mistake twice…” Slayn bit his lip hard and gripped his staff. He yanked his hood down so he could see better, and a blast of hot air assaulted his face. Still, he kept moving despite the heat and light, running desperately to keep up.
What a load of suckers, Woodchuck thought to himself, and trotted along slowly, far behind the others.
For better or worse, Slayn’s worries didn’t come to pass. When they made it to the scene of the tragic battle, the carriage was long gone. Ghim argued in favor of continuing their pursuit, but Parn insisted that they couldn’t abandon the terrible scene—and that they’d never catch up to a carriage on foot. Ghim finally caved when Slayn reminded him that they’d have to camp at night.
They all intend to attack the carriage, Slayn thought. Knowing he had to steel himself for the inevitable—that he would have to use magic for destruction—he ran through the fire spells he was familiar with.
Parn was stricken speechless by the horror of the scene. Deedlit shrank behind Parn’s back, only her face peeking out, her small hand trembling on his shoulder. She whispered words of mourning in Elvish, and her eyes welled with tears.
The intense fire had turned the road black. There were eight fallen figures, five in Valis armor. Several horses had also fallen victim to the flames.
Etoh crouched down and examined each corpse, his usually gentle face contorted in rage and pity. The charred skins of the corpses sloughed off at a touch, revealing red flesh underneath.
May their killers be judged in Pharis’s name, his mind screamed.
When he reached the last body, he was shocked to find that it was still warm.
“He’s still alive!” Etoh shouted. He could faintly see the man’s chest moving up and down.
Everyone ran up and crowded around Etoh and the man.
“As long as he’s still breathing, I might be able to do something,” Etoh said, and glanced up at Parn, signaling with his eyes.
“Everybody, step back,” Parn said. “Let Etoh work.”
Deedlit looked dissatisfied, but Slayn reassured her. “Etoh uses Pharis’s magic.”