Rise of the Mages (Rise of the Mages 2) (15 page)

Brant clenched and unclenched his hand around the hilt of his sword.

Spear should be given his head on an open range instead of being pulled through a space too cramped to ride. For two days! And they hadn’t yet reached the halfway point of the cave.

Would Spear even fit through that part?

It wasn’t as if the magic had been able to give Brant the exact size of the passage, and Spear was huge even for a war mount. What if they had to backtrack because they couldn’t get through?

They’d all be killed and it would be all Brant’s fault. He took a deep breath.

The merchants Dylan told them about had made it to the other side, and there couldn’t be two paths all the way under the mountain. Right?

Better to find out either way than to worry about it. Brant sped his pace; they had to be close.

About an hour later, the walls at the edge of his torchlight jutted in on both sides. Brant walked even faster. Jagged rocks formed a giant mouth that framed a dark tunnel.

He looked at the opening, at the huge war stallion, and back at the opening. Spear would have to duck his head just to get inside.

“Looks awfully tight,” Dylan said.

No shit.

The saddles definitely wouldn’t fit, so Brant gave the order to unload, which the group followed without question or complaint—in his fondest dream.

Fifteen minutes of hand-holding later, he, Dylan, and Xan hoofed the supplies through the tunnel—a good twenty feet long and so narrow that Brant had to turn sideways twice—while Lainey stayed with the horses.

Dylan dropped his load and craned his neck toward the passage. “I don’t think Spear’s going to—”

“Shut it!” Brant dashed back toward Lainey before he completely lost his temper.

Snippets of hissed whispers between Dylan and Xan as they trudged back and forth off-loading the gear didn’t help matters—not wide enough, no way, knew we couldn’t trust …

Finally, Brant flung a fistful of pebbles at the two magpies. “I told you to shut it.”

Once they’d finished the task and returned to Lainey, Brant grabbed Spear’s reins and pulled toward the opening. He might as well have tugged on a tree for all that he accomplished.

“Shouldn’t we save him for last?” Dylan said.

Getting the other horses past would involve backtracking to a wider part of the cavern and a shitload of maneuvering. Dylan surely understood that, so why’d he ask the question?

Lainey exchanged looks with Dylan and Xan. “I think he’s concerned about what would happen if Spear gets stuck. Might be better if the others were already through.”

Dylan nodded.

“That makes no sense,” Brant said. “If the tunnel is so tight that Spear gets stuck, he likely won’t be able to get through at all. We’d just have to bring the other horses back once we got him out.”

Lainey shrugged. Xan rolled his eyes.

Brant stared at them for a moment. “You can’t be suggesting we go on without him! He’s worth more than those other nags put together.”

For six months and with no real hope his father would relent, Brant had begged and bargained and volunteered for extra duties mucking out the stable for the opportunity to ride the stallion a single time. Spear was, by far, the most expensive horse the militia had ever purchased. That Brant’s father had trusted him so much …

He would not leave Spear.

“Don’t you understand that our lives are at stake?” Xan said. “This isn’t a game to Justav.”

Brant gripped his sword hilt. “We’ve been over this. He’ll never find the cave.”

“Even if that’s true”—Xan’s expression left no doubt as to his belief that it wasn’t—“we’d be back where we started, and we’ve already decided we can’t take either the low road or the passes. Are we supposed to camp in here forever? What about food?” He lowered his voice. “What about Ashley?”

They’d figure out something, even if Brant didn’t know exactly what.

“Better our lives than your stupid horse,” Xan said.

Brant leapt across the few feet separating them and grabbed Xan’s shirt. “That’s enough! It’s bad enough you question every order I give.” He reared back his other hand, clenched into a fist. “You. Will. Not. Insult. My. Horse.”

A set of hands grabbed each of his shoulders, and it was all Brant could do not to flatten all three of them. Only the fact that one of the people was Lainey stopped him.

His hands trembling, Brant released Xan and shrugged off the others.

“Apologize,” Lainey said. “Now.”

Brant thought she was talking to him until Xan said, “Huh?”

“You called Spear stupid,” she said. “Apologize.”

Xan rolled his eyes again. “Really?”

She glared at him.

“Fine,” Xan said. “I apologize for insulting the intelligence of this fine animal. In truth, he’s the smartest equine I’ve met. That treatise he wrote on—”

Brant lurched forward again, and Lainey spun between Xan and him. He barely pulled his punch in time.

“My brother is a big-mouthed, know-it-all, insensitive jerk. Sometimes,” Lainey said. “But it is not okay for you to strike him or any of us. Ever.”

Brant couldn’t believe he’d almost hit a girl.

“Unfortunately, even know-it-alls are right occasionally.” Her voice softened. “You’ve got to prepare yourself for the possibility of leaving Spear behind.”

“Fine,” Brant said. “The other horses go first.”

It didn’t matter anyway. He’d get Spear through if it killed all of them.

* * *

As Brant had feared, getting the horses arranged from smallest to largest was a pain in the ass, especially considering he and Dylan did all the work. With her hurt foot, Lainey was useless, so they sent her to the other side to start a fire. Xan, besides being worthless for an entirely different reason, was so anxious about wasting time that he made everything that much worse but insisted on “helping.”

As they approached the tunnel with Xan in the lead pulling Honey, inspiration struck Brant. “Stay on the other side.”

“But—”

“Hold a torch for Dylan and me,” Brant said. “That’ll give us two hands to pull the other horses. They’ll not go as easy as Honey.”

Brant grinned as the horse disappeared into the tunnel. The light would be a bit of help, but getting rid of Xan would be fantastic.

After Honey cleared, Brant tugged Cuppy toward the dark opening. The horse snorted and pawed the ground. They made it to the other side, but from the sound of things, Spear hadn’t liked the struggle one bit. Brant rushed back to calm the stallion.

Dylan forced Clover into the tunnel, his sides mere inches from sharp stone. The skittish mount snorted and fought. Halfway through, he jerked and slammed against the wall.

Brant winced. Spear wasn’t much wider than Clover, was he?

The stallion knew what was coming. He pulled at the lead reins, and Brant steadied him by stroking his neck. Neither that nor a bribe from their limited supply of apples did much to calm him.

“He’s never going to fit,” Xan called.

Spear pawed the ground, and sweat coated him. He pinned his ears against his head.

“I’ll make it work,” Brant said quietly.

He had no choice.

It took a few minutes of patting the war mount’s neck and quiet whispers in his ear to soothe him enough to slip on blinders. Not a good sign that such a simple task took so much effort.

Brant pulled the reins. The horse reared, striking out with his front legs, and threw his head back with a loud neigh.

“Spear! Attention!”

The horse dropped his legs, but his body quivered, a mass of energy ready to bolt. Stroking, whispering, calming, pulling, ordering, Brant fought inch by inch into the tunnel. The rocks closed about them.

When he reached the narrowest point, Spear stopped. His body blocked the width of the tunnel.

Brant cursed. He tugged and cajoled, but nothing worked. It wasn’t just that the horse didn’t want to move; he couldn’t. Jagged stones wedged against Spear’s sides.

“How’s it going?” Xan called.

“Give me a second. He’ll make it.” A damp, metallic smell filled Brant’s nostrils.

Spear stomped his hooves. Jerked his head. Up. Down. Sideways. Frantic.

“He’s bleeding,” Dylan called.

Hardly daring to get close, Brant checked what he could see of the horse. Thick liquid trickled down the horse’s sides and dripped on the rock floor.

“He’s fine.” Brant’s voice came out weirdly shrill. “Just a few more minutes.”

Not that he knew what the blast he was going to do with that time, but he couldn’t give up. He tugged at the reins again.

Spear screamed.

Brant’s shoulders slumped. “I’ll back him out.”

But the horse couldn’t move back any more than he could move forward. Brant had no idea what to do. He walked toward his friends.

Xan whispered, obviously not knowing of how far his words carried. “Should I just get it over with?”

“You have to wait for him to make the call,” Lainey said.

Short of reaching the three of them, Brant collapsed to his knees. “You win. Make it quick.” He should be the one to do it, but a fiery blast like Xan used with the bear would be less painful than cold steel.

Xan placed a hand on Brant’s shoulder. “Are you sure?”

Brant rose and walked to the fire with his head hanging. He sat with his back to them.

“Stand clear!” Xan yelled.

“Can’t we make the opening bigger?” Lainey said.

“Maybe,” Xan said. “If we had a month to chip out the stone, and that’s if we had the proper tools.”

“Why do we need tools?” Lainey’s oh-so-sweet, wonderful voice said. “Dylan made me fly. Can’t he do something with the rocks?”

Brant jumped to his feet and ran back to them. “Yeah. Why can’t he?”

Dylan looked like they’d asked him to jump off another cliff.

“That’s a good question.” Xan disappeared into the tunnel, returning a few minutes later. “His left side is pinned along the entire length, but only two rocks are holding him on the right. If those could be moved, Spear would be free—”

“That!” Brant shouted. “Let’s do that!”

Xan looked more annoyed than Master Ribb had ever been. “Think it through.”

The twerp even used the same words as their old schoolmaster.

“How much of the cave would come down if we tore out those rocks?” Xan said. “We could all end up being crushed.”

Xan wasn’t as bad as Dylan about choosing the safe route, but he’d never learned that you had to take risks to win.

“You and Lainey go on ahead a ways,” Brant said. “Dylan and I will get him out.”

Discussion followed—lots of discussion—all while Spear suffered in agony. Xan wouldn’t leave because he was the “idea guy,” and they needed him if something went wrong. And, of course, Lainey wasn’t going to be the only one who fled to safety.

After several minutes of focusing with all four of them standing quietly, Dylan said, “Not going to happen. I can’t apply enough force to get the rocks to break away from the wall.” He had the decency to look sorry at least.

“What if …” Xan said.

Brant typically hated those words as they were usually followed by endless droning about incredibly dull subjects. In this case, they were the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. “What? Go on.”

“What if you used your power to break the rocks first?” Xan said.

The bore went on more than that, of course—something about how massers can use more energy than kineticists for the same amount of magic—but Brant paid the speech little attention. Though relieved beyond measure that there might be a way to rescue Spear, Brant felt nothing but fear that the situation depended on him using magic. He’d tried dozens of times over the last couple of days and hadn’t done it once. Why couldn’t there be some kind of rads-infested cave troll to fight with his sword?

But Brant was never one to back away from a challenge. He closed his eyes tight and concentrated on the magic over the stallion’s loud struggles.

The urgency of Spear’s pain must have focused his will because it seemed to take mere minutes before the power called to him. He cast his awareness through the tunnel and found the rocks.

His first urge was to pour as much magic as he could into one of them, but the stone rested against Spear’s body. Brant didn’t want to even think about what several tons would do to horseflesh. He’d have to increase the weight slowly and pull back as soon as anything happened.

Crack!

The rock gave, and Brant shut off the flow of power.

A horrible, soul-rending neigh echoed through the cave.

Brant’s eyes shot open. “No!”

“What happened?” Xan said.

“The stone cracked.” Brant wobbled on his feet and placed his hand against the wall. “The weight caused it to tilt downward. It dug into Spear’s side.”

“Do the other one,” Xan said.