be travelers passing by,” Lodi heard the wizard muse aloud. “Goram, Osgilder, stay on that side and take my horse. The dwarf and I shall take the other side.
He winked at Lodi and stepped toward him. Lodi growled and had the momentary urge to bury his hand axe in the wizard’s chest, but he resisted it. If there were as many horses as it sounded, having what appeared to be a competent spellmaster on his side might prove extraordinarily useful. He could always kill him later.
The hoofbeats grew louder, and it was not long before the first horseman rounded the gentle curve of the Amorran road and came in sight. It was a city guardsman wearing light chain mail. But it wasn’t the guard or any of the five other guards following him that drew Lodi’s attention—it was the rider accompanying them in the red robes of a Malkanian city mage.
“You!” the city mage shouted, his face nearly as crimson as his robes. Lodi wasn’t always able to tell with Men, but he was beardless and therefore appeared to be youthful. “Savonder! Raise your hands above your head!”
Lodi saw the tall wizard smile as he half-complied. The Man raised his hands and exposed his empty palms, although he raised them only to the level of his ears.
“Disarm Aetias’s guards,” the city mage instructed his men. “Dwarf, name yourself. Are you with him?”
“Me Blombur son of Blowen,” Lodi lied, purposefully thickening his accent. “Me never see this Man afore,” he added truthfully.
“Then you are not with him?”
“No, Man lord. He stop me on road. Me no know why.”
“Is that true?” the city mage asked Aetias’s guards as his men took their weapons from them. When the two guards confirmed Lodi’s words, he turned back toward the wizard with his hands upraised.
“Know that I can kill you where you stand, Savonder. Do not be deceived by my years. I am a magus of the Red.”
“Are you really?” Lodi heard the tall wizard drawl. “I cannot tell you how impressed I am.”
The magus of the Red didn’t rise to the bait. “I suspect you are perfectly well aware that the penalty for unauthorized entry into Malkan is death for any magic user. But I will make you an offer. Surrender to me, tell us how you kept your power hidden from us, and your life will be spared. It is even possible that you may be granted residence in the city, if you wish it.”
“Your offer is a generous one, boy. I appreciate it. I only wish I could offer you a similar one. But my lord is not so kind.”
“Your lord?”
“His Majesty Louis-Charles, the thirteenth of his Name.”
The red mage’s eyes widened momentarily with surprise, but even so, his reactions were lightning swift. His left hand whirled around in a circle while a gesture from his right hand sent a burst of crimson hellfire directly at the Man standing next to Lodi.
Lodi shouted in alarm and dove to his right. He did not attempt to get up, instead he desperately continued rolling as fast as he could until he was off the road and into the grass, scuttling on all fours for the relative safety of the trees. But when he looked back, he was astonished at what he saw.
Instead of lying dead and smoking, as Lodi assumed, the tall Savonder was still upright, sending one blue flash of lightning after another crashing into the golden aura with which the younger mage was desperately protecting himself. All seven guards were lying in crumpled positions on the ground, although Lodi couldn’t tell if they were dead or merely unconscious.
The crackling thunder was deafening, and the acrid stink of sulfur and ozone reminded Lodi of one particularly horrific underground battle during the second year of the siege, when he’d been escorting a pair of dwarven spellmasters and they’d run into a group of orcs accompanying three blood shamen. He watched with awe as the Savonder used his free hand to draw the same dagger he’d been using when Lodi had first spotted him, then shifted his grip and
He winked at Lodi and stepped toward him. Lodi growled and had the momentary urge to bury his hand axe in the wizard’s chest, but he resisted it. If there were as many horses as it sounded, having what appeared to be a competent spellmaster on his side might prove extraordinarily useful. He could always kill him later.
The hoofbeats grew louder, and it was not long before the first horseman rounded the gentle curve of the Amorran road and came in sight. It was a city guardsman wearing light chain mail. But it wasn’t the guard or any of the five other guards following him that drew Lodi’s attention—it was the rider accompanying them in the red robes of a Malkanian city mage.
“You!” the city mage shouted, his face nearly as crimson as his robes. Lodi wasn’t always able to tell with Men, but he was beardless and therefore appeared to be youthful. “Savonder! Raise your hands above your head!”
Lodi saw the tall wizard smile as he half-complied. The Man raised his hands and exposed his empty palms, although he raised them only to the level of his ears.
“Disarm Aetias’s guards,” the city mage instructed his men. “Dwarf, name yourself. Are you with him?”
“Me Blombur son of Blowen,” Lodi lied, purposefully thickening his accent. “Me never see this Man afore,” he added truthfully.
“Then you are not with him?”
“No, Man lord. He stop me on road. Me no know why.”
“Is that true?” the city mage asked Aetias’s guards as his men took their weapons from them. When the two guards confirmed Lodi’s words, he turned back toward the wizard with his hands upraised.
“Know that I can kill you where you stand, Savonder. Do not be deceived by my years. I am a magus of the Red.”
“Are you really?” Lodi heard the tall wizard drawl. “I cannot tell you how impressed I am.”
The magus of the Red didn’t rise to the bait. “I suspect you are perfectly well aware that the penalty for unauthorized entry into Malkan is death for any magic user. But I will make you an offer. Surrender to me, tell us how you kept your power hidden from us, and your life will be spared. It is even possible that you may be granted residence in the city, if you wish it.”
“Your offer is a generous one, boy. I appreciate it. I only wish I could offer you a similar one. But my lord is not so kind.”
“Your lord?”
“His Majesty Louis-Charles, the thirteenth of his Name.”
The red mage’s eyes widened momentarily with surprise, but even so, his reactions were lightning swift. His left hand whirled around in a circle while a gesture from his right hand sent a burst of crimson hellfire directly at the Man standing next to Lodi.
Lodi shouted in alarm and dove to his right. He did not attempt to get up, instead he desperately continued rolling as fast as he could until he was off the road and into the grass, scuttling on all fours for the relative safety of the trees. But when he looked back, he was astonished at what he saw.
Instead of lying dead and smoking, as Lodi assumed, the tall Savonder was still upright, sending one blue flash of lightning after another crashing into the golden aura with which the younger mage was desperately protecting himself. All seven guards were lying in crumpled positions on the ground, although Lodi couldn’t tell if they were dead or merely unconscious.
The crackling thunder was deafening, and the acrid stink of sulfur and ozone reminded Lodi of one particularly horrific underground battle during the second year of the siege, when he’d been escorting a pair of dwarven spellmasters and they’d run into a group of orcs accompanying three blood shamen. He watched with awe as the Savonder used his free hand to draw the same dagger he’d been using when Lodi had first spotted him, then shifted his grip and
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