Discovery

CHAPTER SIX

After looking at the finger that held the flame, Hannah raised her eyes to those of her father. Again she saw the resemblances, the nose, lips, and shape of his face. His hair was white as the first snow of the season, but she wondered what color it had been at her age. Had it been the color of straw?

The Mage held up a single finger and a flame five times as large as hers appeared; then he snuffed it. He asked, “Does your finger feel cold after?”

“Yes.”

“That’s because there are rules for magic. You take the heat from your finger and concentrate it on the tip to make a flame. But if you let the flame burn longer or higher, more heat is used until the finger is cold and dead, like frostbite. You could even lose a hand if you let it burn long enough. You see my point? Magic is not free, nor is magic in a sense. It’s simply a redirection of natural laws.”

“I understand part of what you said, but not all.”

“Then you’re far smarter than most of the dolts they send to me for instruction as mages. Are you tired after such a long day?”

“So much as happened. Yes.”

He pointed to the carriage and the blankets spread beneath it. Hannah had no sooner closed her eyes than the Mage shook her awake, his hand held over her mouth, so she didn’t scream.

“Quick, there are men coming. You must wake up,” he said, rushing his words and shaking her harder.

Hannah sat and wiped her eyes, climbing to her feet at the rear of the carriage where the two guards were listening to the Old Mage. He said to them, “Follow the road back to a place where the forest grows right up to the sides. I remember a place like that not too far behind us. Cut a trail into the underbrush wide enough for a horse, at least a dozen paces into the forest.”

Sir James said coldly, “A pole trap? Clothesline them?”

“Yes,” the Mage looked at the confused younger guard, “Cut a small tree and place it between two large trees at the height of a horse’s ears when it’s running. I want you to bring me at least two of the men. Alive.”

The older guard sensed the confusion within the younger guard. “Panicked horses will run down the dark path we’ll clear and under the horizontal tree. The riders will not see it, and won’t duck.”

“Ouch,” the younger one said, his hand going to his forehead as if an imaginary tree struck him there. “But why will the horses run down the path?”

The Mage dug into one of his leather trunks. “Because of these. Grape-fire, ever hear of them?”

Both the younger guard and Hannah shook their heads while Sir James smiled and nodded. “You’ll also make it rain?”

“Of course, so take your capes and hoods.” He poured tiny globes the size of grapes into their hands. “They react violently to water, so keep them in the leather bags until you intend to use them. Throw three head of the men, and three more behind. Then throw the last four across the road from the path you’ll cut to panic the horses. They’ll turn from the grape-fire and flee down your path.”

“I’ll explain it all,” Sir James said to the younger guard.

“What happens when they get wet?” Hannah asked.

The Old Mage said, “A simple chemical reaction with water, enhanced by a little magic. The grapes ignite and burn a bright yellow fire that spits out myriad yellow sparks for a few minutes, long enough to panic the horses and riders, although I will also let loose some screamers.”

Hannah said, “Screamers? That sounds scary.”

“Oh, they’re just some screams I’ve captured over the years from various dungeons. I’ll release them to help panic the horses and men.”

Hannah and the younger guard passed another look as if to see which would ask the question both wanted to ask. Hannah won. “You captured screams? How?”

“Magic, of course. I save them for when needed. Screams can be very effective if used right.” The Mage dug into the contents again. He said, “Twenty more men after us, huh? I suppose all carry coin again, so it’s another indication of great wealth in our enemy. I want to speak with the leader, if possible.”

“You’re going with them?” Hannah protested, suddenly understanding.

“Well, I have to call down the rain for the grape-fire to work, and I’ll manage the screams, of course. You’ll stay here where it’s safe.”

She looked around and shook her head. “No, it isn’t safe here without you, and what happens if you fail?”

The Old Mage gripped her shoulders. “What happens tonight will imprint on your mind forever if you see another battle. It’s best you stay here.”

She set her chin and clenched her teeth. “If you try to leave me here I’ll follow. My father will not face this danger without me at his side. You can’t make me stay.”

Sir James shrugged, “She has a point.”

The Mage said, “Tomorrow you and I will have a conversation about daughters obeying their fathers. But tonight you will stay with me, right at my back, and you will do only that which I tell you.”

They set off at a quick pace. The Mage led the way while holding a pale globe that spread only enough light to allow them to avoid the largest obstacles. Once they reached the road, travel became easier. The two guards carried their blades, and Hannah carried hers, the short blade from the scabbard on her hip, long enough some considered a long knife, but in no way a sword, the small handle perfectly fitted to her small hand.

When they reached the place where the forest grew right up to the sides of the road, The Mage slowed and then pointed to where he judged looked ideal. The left side of the road was uphill with a small bank almost waist high. Horses would not leap up the bank and travel in that direction. The other side of the road fell away down a shallow slope. Hannah surveyed it as critically as the other three, imagining panicked horses. They wouldn’t jump up the bank so they would run downhill since they couldn’t go ahead or behind because of the grape-fire. Downhill would be the natural direction.

The two guards had already dismounted and began. They cut the brush away with their swords quickly, leaving an opening in the almost solid undergrowth. It was wide enough for two horses to fit through at the beginning. A few steps inside it narrowed enough for one horse to pass, the wide opening an invitation for a panicked horse searching for a way to escape. Ten steps further down the path stood a pine tree large enough to be split for firewood. An oak grew on the other side of the path, the trunk larger around than her waist.

The younger guard hacked one side of a smaller pine tree trunk the diameter of her arm, while Sir James worked to clear the branches from it. When it fell, they made short work of trimming the rest of the branches, and while one tied it to the oak with strips of leather, the other held the other end. They adjusted the height and finished securing it with a few loops of leather cut from a larger sheet and again adjusted the height to clear the ears of a horse.

The Mage showed each where he should hide beside the road, one on either side of the trap. He pulled on his cape and the others followed suit, so Hannah pulled on the cape her father handed her, but not before she looked up at the clear sky and the stars. The moon was not out yet, so the night was dark and crisp. The Mage had long ago put the glowing globe he used as a light into a leather sack and pulled the strings tight to prevent the light from leaking out, warning those coming.

The Mage took Hannah across the road to the high side, leaving the guards near the trap with their instructions to bring him, prisoners. He sat on the ground and spread his cape around himself, like a small tent. Hannah copied his actions. He muttered a few words and soon the rain began to fall. Not heavily, but a persistent light rain that she imagined would soak the dirt road and turn the top layer into a wet mire.

Then they waited. She tried to keep her eyes open and couldn’t. When she did half-wake once, her head was cradled on the Mage’s leg, his hand stroking her hair gently under the hood. She went back to sleep.

His hand gently shook her. She heard the beat of horse hooves coming down the road, and one horse snorted. Leather squeaked, and metal clinked as the hooves fell. In the starlight, she made out the column of men, riding two across, although her vision lacked detail. They rode at a fair speed, indicating they had somewhere to be. She saw no indication they’d taken the time to pull on cloaks against the light rain.

The first of them passed her location. When she estimated half were beyond, Hannah worried that the grape-fire hadn’t worked, and the plan would fail. Then a burst of brilliant yellow flared and sputtered on the road in front of the lead horses. Then another, each shooting out fire knee high and crackling and popping like pine pitch in a fire, only more so.

Men shouted orders at each other, one horse bucked and reared, almost losing the rider. More bursts of yellow fire went off behind the last horses in the column. Those horses closest to the grape-fire wheeled and tried to run away. Soon the entire group was a tangle of wild, scared horses milling about in fear, the men trying to control them.

The Mage had stood unnoticed in the dim night shadows under the trees in the forest. He held two jars in his left hand. He broke the seal on the first and pulled the top off. From inside it, a man’s voice screamed in so much pain that his voice trailed off to a gurgle near the end. Then he started screaming again, in even more pain, if possible. Hannah felt the hairs on her neck stand up, and she shivered in fear at the voice.

The Mage removed the top of the second jar. A woman’s high-pitched scream joined in even louder than the first voice, and far more piercing. A few horses screamed their response. Horses spun and ran into each other. Men tried to calm them, but the horses wanted a way out, the fear driving them to rear and their eyes to turn wild.

A single horse spotted the open pathway and charged ahead, the rider sitting erect and barely holding on. Another horse saw the first flee down the path, and it raced after it. Hannah listened but didn’t hear them striking the horizontal tree, nor any moans or shouts of warning to the other riders.

A third horse, this one in total panic, threw its rider onto the road, reared up, hooves clawing the air as it screamed in terror. The screaming voices the Mage released continued, and Hannah put her hands over her ears, but couldn’t shut out the awful sounds.

The grape-fire at the rear of the line sputtered out. A horse broke that way, and others followed back up the road they had traveled, but not before another horse ran down the path to the crossbeam, the rider sitting high in the saddle to keep his balance. Then, as if by a magic spell, all the riders and horses were gone. The grape-fire sputtered out.

The Mage recapped the jars and the screams mercifully quieted and ceased. He reached for her hand and ran to the path where both guards were busy tying hands behind the backs of two men. A fourth lay on the ground, unmoving.

Hannah wiped tears from each of her cheeks and wished she had remained in camp, after all. The screams alone would keep away for many nights. The Mage led the way, again removing his globe from the leather bag to light the way. Behind, she heard their guards threatening their prisoners to move faster. The rain quit and the trip back to their camp seemed to take longer. Hannah closed her eyes and tried walking that way, but tripped. When the Mage cast a worried glance at her, she tried to smile her tiredness away.

She heard the hiss of an arrow passing close to her in the night air, and a dull thud as it embedded into the chest of the Old Mage, only half the shaft still exposed. His eyes went wide in surprise and pain. His knees gave way, and he crumpled instead of falling to the ground. Hannah leapt to his side. He looked into her eyes and then at Sir James. A tiny spark flashed in his eyes as if he tried to light the smallest fire with them. She heard a last, ragged breath escape his body. He went limp. The King’s Mage was dead.

Her father was dead.