Gemworld (21 page)

An alarm bell shattered the peace of the camp, stealing his thoughts. Marissa uttered a very unladylike word as the moment threatened to slip away yet again. With a quick glance over her shoulder toward the rapidly filling village square, she muttered, “Close enough.” And throwing custom to the wind, she kissed him.

Well,
attacked
would probably be more accurate.

Their mouths devoured each other desperately as the alarm continued to sound. Time slowed to a crawl, each second an eternity of blissful release. But though time crawled, it unfortunately did not stop altogether. Shouts from villagers running past brought them regretfully back to reality. Something was going on, something major, and their “intentions” would just have to wait.

Sal and Marissa shared a sigh of regret, and hand in hand, they dashed down the hill toward the center of the village.

***

Reit knelt next to the emerald where he’d collapsed, his breath rasping as he clung to life. Seeing the ragged and infected stumps of Laryn’s wrists, the rebel leader silently willed Jaren to hurry.

Seconds later, the mage arrived at a full run, sliding to the ground next to Laryn. With the dust of his slide still rising in the air, Jaren placed one hand on the wounded mage’s torso, the other on his head. The emerald’s eyes lit with green fire, the only magical aura a mundane like Reit could see. As he watched, a more healthy color spread through Laryn’s gangrenous stumps. In moments, the jagged wounds closed, pink flesh covering the jutting bone. After a few seconds, the first sprigs of new tissue sprouted, puffing up to form rudimentary digits.

The mage’s breathing became more easy.
Crafter be praised
, Reit thought. But what could make a man on the brink of death run like that, screaming out warnings at the top of failing lungs?

“What news do you have?” Reit asked the mage, not waiting for Jaren to complete his healing magics. Laryn opened his eyes and looked around, disoriented and frightened by the crowed of spectators that had gathered around him. “What
news
?” Reit pressed.

Laryn’s eyes cleared, and focused on Reit. Still weak from his ordeal, he could only whisper two words. But those two words shot through the village like lightning.

Earthen Ranks.

Reit didn’t have to issue orders. The rebels were trained to act instantly in matters such as these. Within seconds, the entire crowd had disbursed, rounding up children, livestock, and essentials, making ready to flee.

In the distance, Reit saw Sal and Marissa cutting through the villagers. He noted absently that they were holding hands.
It
’
s about time
, he thought wryly.

“What’s all the fuss about?” Sal demanded as he neared.

“The Highest is sending the Earthen Ranks,” Jaren said, still working his magics. “We’ve got to get everyone out of here.”

“No, we fight,” Reit countermanded. “Some of us, anyway. There’s not enough time for a full evacuation, not the way that Laryn came in here half-dead and at a full gallop. We need to dig in with enough people to delay the Ranks and buy time for the rest to escape.”

Jaren looked up from his patient, his flaming green eyes studying Reit for a moment, then he nodded, and bade Sal to join him.

“Remember what I told you last night about healing? Good. Put a hand here, and the other hand over there. Now, clear your mind. See this man’s wounds, not with your eyes, but in your thoughts. Good, good. Now will your mana into those wounds. Don’t worry about forming the spell—I’ll direct it.”

Reit watched in astonishment as emerald light flared from Sal’s diamond orb. Laryn’s budding hands tripled in growth as Sal added his magic to Jaren’s. The two continued to concentrate on Laryn, healing more hurts than Reit’s mundane eyes could see. At last, Jaren’s flaming green orbs dimmed, and he turned his attention back to Reit.

“Take Marissa and Delana, and go with the others,” he said, eyes still shining with the residue of magic. “We’ll cover your escape.”

“Salts of the Abyss,” Reit cursed scornfully. “I’ll not run off like a coward while good men and women die in
my
place, for
my
Cause!”

“And if you die, who’ll lead us then?” Jaren demanded, not cowed by Reit’s outburst in the least. “Who’ll inspire the mainland folk to rise up against the only ruler they’ve ever known, in hopes of defeating the only enemy who’s never lost?”

Reit stubbornly set his jaw, about to launch another round of spiteful protest, when the emerald spoke once more. “Who’ll be
el
’
Yatza
, in a world consumed by its own fear?”

Indecision tore at Reit’s mind, and he hesitated momentarily. Was this what his rebellion was coming to—everyone risking their lives but him? Staying behind during a raid was one thing, but this was entirely different. These people were his friends, his family, buying time with their lives while he fled! He was at once proud of Jaren’s loyalty and sickened by it.

But something in his friend’s face brought home to him the reality of the situation. The mage wasn’t protecting Reit. As he said, he was protecting
el
’
Yatza
, and the Cause that he led. Jaren’s life was nothing. Reit’s life was nothing. But the Cause—the quest to free the world from the tyranny of the Highest—was everything.

“We will mourn your death,” Reit whispered brokenly.

“But the Cause must survive,” recited the mage, followed by a wink and a flash of teeth. He didn’t expect Reit to mourn him just yet. “Now tuck tail, before I decide to grow you one!”

Hooking an arm around the artisan, Reit quickly turned and made his way across the square toward his wagon where he knew he’d find his wife—his true and best reason for being
el
’
Yatza
—waiting for him.

But he didn’t look back. He couldn’t. Though it galled him, he offered no final goodbyes to the man who had been the best part of him since they were children. He refused to look back, for fear that he might stay,
el
’
Yatza
be damned.

***

Sal knelt frozen as he watched Reit lead Marissa into the multitude. She looked over her shoulder as she ran, Reit pulling her onward. In her eyes, Sal saw a whirlwind of emotion. Frustration. Pain. Love. Swelling pride. But mostly he saw fear—fear for him. Why should he be surprised? Who’d actually want to love a dead hero?

“Sal,” Jaren said, drawing Sal’s attention. “Laryn’s out of immediate danger. I think I can finish up by myself if needs be.” He cast his emerald gaze behind him meaningfully, toward the press of bodies that Reit and Marissa had disappeared into.

“You rock, dude,” Sal breathed, already on his feet and running.

“Now what do you suppose that meant?” the emerald mused as Sal dashed away.

Sal wove his way through faceless people, intent only on the bounce of auburn curls that he spied about thirty yards away and closing. As Reit and Marissa neared the du’Nograh wagon, the artisan tossed her head back one last time toward the green, and froze as her eyes locked on Sal. Without so much as a word, she ripped free of Reit and made for Sal, their fearless leader in tow.

“Marissa, I’m sorry I took so long,” Sal said as he caught her up in his arms.

“I don’t care. I would have waited forever,” she sobbed into his shoulder.

“Can we hurry this on a bit?” Reit asked breathlessly when he finally caught up to the pair.

Sal pulled apart from Marissa painfully, her warmth still on his body and her scent still in his nostrils. He looked into her eyes and spoke, willing that each word engrave itself upon her heart. “I am
not
dying today, so don’t you worry about nothin’ but getting away.”

“But—”

“
Nothing!
What happens today don’t mean squat to me if I’m not one hundred percent sure that you’re safe, you got me?”

Marissa set her jaw stubbornly, and for one agonizing moment Sal expected her to completely throw caution to the wind, tell Reit to go to Hell—or the Abyss, rather—then take up arms herself and dare Sal to say
one word
to the contrary. But her eyes softened, if not completely. “Not one scratch, do you hear me? Not one. You’ve seen how I wield a pick-axe.” Having offered her gratuitous empty threat, she clamped her mouth shut, as if she didn’t trust herself to say more. Instead, she pulled him close and tenderly kissed him, then turned and stalked away, leaving Reit to bring up the rear.

Sal let loose a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, then raced back toward the village green, where he found Jaren and the other emerald, Laryn, slowly regaining their feet. The once-dying mage looked a little shaky on his feet, but otherwise no worse for wear.

“Welcome back,” Jaren said with a smile. “But don’t thank me yet. I’m afraid you’re just in time for a fight.”

“Believe me, I welcome the opportunity,” Laryn said ominously, dusting himself off weakly. There was an odd note to his voice, but Sal couldn’t place it. “I was as good as dead anyway,” the emerald continued with a casual shrug—too casual, in Sal’s opinion. “What more could they possibly d...”

The mage’s voice trailed off as he took in Sal, who had just now thought to release his hold on Emerald, allowing his singular gemstone eye to shift from healing green back to its normal clarity.

Jaren was quick to answer the unspoken question. “Yes, this is the prisoner who escaped with us, and no, we don’t have time to discuss his eye. I need you to take position with the defenders on the western perimeter. Go.” The emerald gave Sal one last sidelong look, then departed.

“Go grab your sword,” Jaren said, turning to Sal as Laryn left. “Meet me where the road enters from the south. I’ll be behind the defenders you find there. We need to come up with a way to hold the Rank advance long enough to cover the retreat. And see if you can find Retzu or Senosh on the way.” That last he shouted over his shoulder as he pushed through the bustling villagers who swarmed the village green, carrying out their various duties.

Instructions received, Sal himself was spurred into action. He turned and bolted toward his tent, wherein lay the sword that Retzu had given him. As he passed the lane that led to Reit’s wagon, he looked just in time to see the rebel leader, mounted and disappearing over the hill at the end of the path, followed by a herd of wagons and mounted guards—the guaranteed survival of the Cause. But all that mattered to Sal at the moment was that Marissa would be safe. Mind at ease, he raced on to his tent, ducking inside long enough to grab his doeskin hilted katana and dart back out.

By the time he came in sight of the iron barred wagons that served as both guard shacks and the southernmost entry point into the village, the sheathed sword was already strapped to his back, buckled securely and ready for action. He found Jaren and the other defenders—Retzu and Senosh included—gathered round a very large man who turned out to be Keth. The granite mage was touching his hands briefly to every piece of armor within arm’s reach. With each touch, Keth’s aura flashed a dirty brown, only long enough to impart whatever spell he had cooking and move on to the next. It dawned on him that the granite was strengthening the defenders’ armor the way Sal had suggested a few nights before. As each defender received his arcane blessing from the granite, he would turn and join his brothers-in-arms on the perimeter, making room for the next customer. Sal felt a passing swell of pride for the granite. “Small-town redneck makes good,” he muttered with satisfaction as he joined the throng.

Soon it was Sal’s turn, and Keth was touching tunic, pants, and boots. Finished, Sal nodded his thanks and headed over to where Jaren, Retzu, and Senosh had moved off to.

“—hit us hard and fast, probably with their amethysts first,” Retzu was saying, Senosh nodding in agreement. “They can see us through the trees, and a good bit of rock. They’ll most likely be followed by whatever Granite Guards are with them. Thankfully, a standard Rank detachment only employs a handful of granites, but even those few can be devastating, so try to concentrate on taking them out first.”

“Many of our own amethysts went with Reit and Delana for the same reason,” Senosh explained, mainly for Sal’s benefit. “They should be able to spot any trap before they spring it. Good for them. Bad for us. The few amethysts we have will be sorely outnumbered by the Rank detachment. They will undoubtedly see our forces first, and thus be the first to attack. If we raise a high enough wall of ice, it should take the brunt of the first strike. It will also throw off the rubies when they crest the ridge. The cold will mask our body heat behind the wall, thus forcing them to concentrate on tearing it down before they can turn their attentions on us.”

Menkal, who’d joined the huddle as Senosh was speaking, shook his head. “Can’t do it, Red. It would take about a half hour to build an effective barrier. That’s way too long, and not very practical if we can’t commit sapphires to keeping it solid during the attack.”

As Sal listened to the exchange, facts and figures, strengths and weaknesses, all began to click together in his mind. Caravan was no longer a village, but a battlefield, a series of defensible points. Of its own accord, his old SEAL training incorporated the mages and their abilities into his fledgling plan. In a way that he could never have comprehended prior to the raid that freed Keth and birthed Sal’s own magical ability, he understood the nature of magic. No longer did he hold magic in awe. Now, it was a resource, a tool. A weapon.