Rogue Magician (The Magician Rebellion) (15 page)

“
Aha!”
declared the sorcerer triumphantly as he pulled a small square package wrapped
in paper from the bag. Sane unwrapped the package to reveal some sliced bread,
meats, and cheeses. He took some of the meat and cheese and placed it on a
slice of bread. Then he covered it with a second piece of bread.

“
It's
called a sammich. The dwarves of Ghant invented them as a handy meal that can
be prepared easily. To this day they take them on deep mining expeditions to
have as meals at their dig sites.”

“
So
they use the bread as if it were plates?” asked Byrn curious at the strange
item.

“
No,
it is not like a bread bowl. It is softer like regular eating bread. Want to
try some?”

Byrn
eagerly accepted the offer. As a prisoner he became accustomed to only having
bread and cheese most days. Even the addition of meat- what looked like ham,
but he didn't care to ask- was an appealing enough offer for him to try the new
foodstuff. It was an interesting combination of flavors and Byrn found it quite
delicious. The best part being that it was something simple that he could
replicate. A chef or cook was not needed to prepare the meal beyond the initial
need to cook the bread and meat which could be done long before the foodstuffs
would be eaten.

As
they ate and chatted Byrn began to have second thoughts about his plan to escape.
When Byrn first awoke in Baj his natural instinct was to blame Sane for his
imprisonment and the deaths at the temple, but as they spent more time together
and considering that Sane was the only person Byrn had physically seen in the
last year, he slowly forgave the sorcerer for his failings in Colum. Maybe if
Sane could help him now instead, then it may not be necessary for him to risk
such a difficult escape as the one he had planned.

“
Sane,
I was wondering...” he began tentatively, “Is there anything that you can do to
get me out of here early? This place... it drives me a little crazier with each
day that passes.”

Sane's
mood visibly darkened. Byrn knew that the sorcerer did not like to think about
his apprentice being a prisoner and tried his best to act like nothing was out
of the ordinary. “I would like to get you out of here...” he sighed heavily,
“perhaps if I tell the king how much progress you have made, he will release
you into my custody early.”

“
Thank
you, master,” Byrn said with a nod of appreciation. Hoping to lighten the
sorcerer's spirit he hastily added, “What were you saying about constructs?”

The
sorcerer smiled, pleased at the change in subjects. “Today I have something
special planned. It is a test of skill if you will. This is when a grimoire
comes in handy over a staff,” the old magician told him.

Sane
took two books from his sack and set them on the table they used to examine
magical items when the need arose. Byrn recognized the first book as being
Sane's grimoire and the second one, a fire red grimoire, as his own. Most of
the pages were still blank, but he did manage to learn a few complex spells
that would require reference prior to casting due to their limited uses.

“
A
large staff would be too unwieldy to carry about as you tried to brandish a
constructed weapon,” Sane began, “but a grimoire is just the right size to hold
in one hand while you manipulate a persistent spell with the other.”

He
handed Byrn the book so that his apprentice held it in his left hand leaving
his right hand, the dominant one, empty. “Concentrate on the fire that dwells
inside of you as if you were going to summon a fireball. Feel it hot and
burning. I want you to summon it forth, but do not let it go. Hold it in place
in front of your open hand.”

Byrn
did as he was instructed. It was, indeed, similar to that of creating a
fireball except instead of releasing it at the moment of creation, which is
what makes a fireball seem to fly when in reality it is being hurled not much
different than one might throw a stone, the energy was being held in place.

Byrn
summoned the fireball easily enough, but found he could not hold it. The ball
shot forward towards Sane who deflected it with an invisible shield with little
effort or surprise. It was not the first time that the sorcerer found himself
in the way of an errant spell since Byrn began his studies.

“
Focus
through the grimoire to your free hand. Channel from the grimoire to your open
hand. Picture the ball of flame resting just above your palm,” Sane urged him
on.

A
new ball of flame began to form starting as a flicker and growing into a ball
about the size of a fist. It started to move forward, but Byrn was able to
sense it and use his will to pull it back into position. The ball started to
come back at him and he mentally pushed it forward ever so lightly. After a few
more attempts to keep it in place Byrn found that he could sense the flame as
if it were a living thing and wrap it in his life force, what Sane and Xander
both referred to as an aura.

“
Good,
good,” said Sane clearly pleased with his pupil. “You have just advanced from
calling forth the elements to controlling them. It can take an elementalist
half a decade to attain the level of skill you are now exhibiting.

“
Now
let us see how far you can push it. Try and shape the flame through the
strength of your will. See it in your mind as a whip that you can hold and
flick it back and forth.” Sane urged him calmly, but with caution still in his
voice.

Byrn
concentrated on the ball pushing on its sides and pulling upward with his
thoughts. It grew slimmer and longer for several seconds and Byrn tried to hold
it in its shape. He began to sweat with exertion and his hand started to
tremble. A moment later the trembling began to spread to his torso and Sane
commanded him to stop.

“
Take
a break for a few minutes and regain your strength,” the sorcerer told him,
“and we will try again.”

The
ranger followed the Black Brigands back to their camp careful not to step on
the dry leaves or wayward branches that littered the forest as she stealthily
kept pace with them. Her heart was racing giving the apprentice ranger a burst
of nervous energy as she silently followed her targets from her vantage point
on the hill above them. She was forced to remind herself that this was not one
of Sari's games meant to test her skills or teach her an important lesson. This
was for real and the stakes were life and death.

After
a half hour traipsing through the forest the bandits led her to their camp. The
Black Brigands consisted of six men all wearing motley leather armor that
looked like it was pieced together from the spoils of previous raids. Their
leader was an older, but still very muscular man with gray hair tied in a
rogue's knot and a scar from his right shoulder down to the forearm. He would
be the most difficult opponent and Marian Lightfoot decided that he should be
the one eliminated first.

Once
more she scanned the camp looking for her friend, but did not see the elf.
There were three tents spaced evenly around the makings of a campfire and she
was unable to see into two of them from her vantage point. Sari would most
likely be held in the leader's tent away from the others. Not in an attempt to
protect her, but to ensure that she remained unspoiled for the one Marian had
decided to call “Scar,” for lack of a better name. She did not know why she
liked to name things. It got her into trouble as a child more than once when
Marian began to name the family's livestock and refused to let her father
slaughter or sell them. Now here she was giving names to things that she would
have to be the one to put an end to.

Marian
observed them from a safe hiding place in a thicket of tall grass for several
hours more until the sun had set and the moon and stars began to claim the sky.
The moon was waxing and overcast providing enough light for the ranger to see
by, but still feel relatively secure that the Black Brigands could not see her
from her vantage point. The ranger silently thanked the gods for this small
favor.

The
brigands lit a fire to stay warm and began the night’s drinking. A middle-aged
man with a fat gut and bald spot laughed loudly at a joke one of the others had
made. The rest of the brigands soon settled around the fire and joined in the
merriment blissfully unaware that not far away sat a woman planning to kill the
lot of them.

Eventually
their boisterous behavior began to settle down as the night wore on. The
captain motioned to his tent and two of his men went in. A minute later they
emerged with their captive, the elf ranger, Sari. Her hands were tied behind
her back, but her feet were free although the bandits had removed her boots.
Marian guessed they thought that would prevent her from running away.
Unbeknownst to the brigands, elves were as comfortable running in bare feet as
they were in boots only wearing them for protection in battle or hunting
aggressive animals.

For
hours Sari was alone in that tent. With her feet unbound she could have slipped
out unseen or bolted and outran any of her captors at any time. Marian briefly
wondered what was keeping her companion there. Surely the elf was not still too
drunk to escape.

One
of the men pushed her to her knees in front of the fire. Scar knelt down in
front of Sari and took her face roughly in his hand squeezing her cheeks.
Sensing that the situation was about to get much worse Marian readied her bow
and notched an arrow. She carefully took aim at the leader's head inhaling as
she drew the bowstring back. Exhaling she loosed the arrow and watched it fly
towards her target until it took root in his head an instant later.

Marian
pulled another arrow from her quiver as the dead bandit collapsed. His comrades
began to rise and draw their swords ignoring their captive. “Grab a shield!”
ordered one of the men and Marian rewarded his quick thinking with an arrow in
the forehead.

Sari
took off at a sprint into the forest opposite Marian with her hands still tied
behind her back. Two of the men who decided to take their chances with an
unarmed, bound elf instead of facing an unknown attacker who was flying arrows
in their direction, ran after their swift footed captive. The other two grabbed
shields from their tents. They moved cautiously toward Marian's general
position using the trees for cover as best they could.

Pulling
three arrows from her quiver she notched one in the center and put one above
and one below as Sari had taught her. The apprentice aimed for one of the
bandits with the middle arrow and loosed all three. The middle arrow hit his
shield while one hit the tree he was hiding behind and the last hit the dirt a
little way off on the opposite side. The intention was not to kill the
approaching bandits, but to make them think they were outnumbered. It was a
trick Sari taught her some time ago and tended to be effective, as not many
humans knew of the ruse.

The
pair of bandits decided the wiser course of action was to flee with their
shields held in a way to haphazardly cover their heads and backs.

Marian
reveled in her victory for a moment. For the first time in her life she felt
strong and capable, like she did not need someone else to protect her. Now all
she needed to do was find the runaway elf before her pursuers did.

The
ranger hurried down the slope circling around the camp to avoid the light of
the campfire that was still burning brightly. The camp was now deserted, but
the apprentice knew not to take unnecessary risks. Her ears were strained
listening for any signs of Sari. The woman would be as silent as a ghost even
as she deftly avoided her pursuers, but the bandits chasing her showed no such
caution.

Sparse
rays of moonlight pierced the trees illuminating the forest in a mixture of
faint light and deep shadows. A small broken tree branch snapped under Marian's
boot and she chastised herself for not being more cautious just before stepping
on another one with a dry crack that to her ears sounded as loud as a
firecracker at the winter festival of Locklinigand.

“
Waicosson,
guide my steps,” she whispered hoping the god of the forest would heed her
prayer and help her to avoid the noisy underbrush.

The
wind shifted and blew the faint scent of sweat in Marian's face. The last pair
of the Black Brigands were to her west and they had to be nearby if her dull
human nose could smell them. Marian cautiously but quickly hurried in their
direction until she caught a glimpse of one of the bandits running. A moment
later she saw the silhouette of the second pursuer. They were moving too
quickly and the forest was too thick with trees for the bow to be effective in
the dim moonlight.

“
Look
at those boys trampling through the forest like a pair of blind boars searching
for food,” whispered a voice softly in Marian's ear.

The
apprentice ranger involuntarily yelped in surprise before she realized that the
voice belonged to Sarianna of the Red Tree Clan who sneaked up behind her. The
elf had managed to circle behind the bandits and her apprentice without any of
them being aware.

“
It
looks like they heard you,” Sari added nodding at the pair who had turned and
were now heading their way.