They passed through the gates that had brought them in, and not once were they challenged. When they were outside and far enough away that they could no longer be seen, Avelene released Paxon’s hand. As she did so, she disappeared momentarily and then reappeared as before.
“Nice trick,” he said.
She nodded. “It involves displacement of air and light, which mostly are what allow eyes to determine what’s there and what’s not. In this instance, we were always half a step ahead of where we could be seen, allowing us to appear invisible.”
Paxon looked around, searching for some indication of the way they should go. As he did so, she grabbed him and pointed.
Off to their left and high above the city, the sky was on fire, the flames visible even from where they stood.
“They’ll be there,” she said. “We’d better hurry if we expect to do any good.”
He stepped in front of her suddenly. “One minute. Let’s talk about this. What is it you think we can do if we mix in this? Stand up to Usurient and his Red Slash? Stop Arcannen from carrying out whatever plan he’s made? What?”
“I don’t know, Paxon!” she snapped, a flash of anger surfacing. “I just know we should do something besides stand around here!”
“We are in agreement about that.” He kept his voice calm. “But we should have an objective before we blunder into the middle of a confrontation between people who want each other dead. There are too many of them, Avelene. We should agree now on our purpose in putting ourselves at risk.”
She hesitated. “You want to help the boy, don’t you?”
“I think that makes the most sense. He is the one worth saving.”
“And not the girl?”
“As I understand it, the mission of the Druids is to find and recover wild magic in whatever form it takes. That would describe the boy.”
“All right,” she said. “The boy. But the girl, too, if we can.”
“Not Arcannen?”
She kept her face deliberately expressionless. “Let the sorcerer and the Red Slash have their way with each other.”
They set out at a fast trot, initially following the road they had turned onto coming out of the barracks, then angling this way and that along other roads and pathways that at last brought them to the base of the bluff. From there they were able to discover the solitary road that wound up to the plateau. Long minutes had passed by then, and they were both winded. They slowed by unspoken agreement to a fast walk, not wanting to run blindly into whatever waited. From atop the bluff, they could hear voices. Halfway up the road by now, they pressed ahead.
“Please agree to let me take the lead when we get there,” Paxon whispered to her.
She glanced at him, frowning. “Why should I do that?”
“Because I am supposed to be your protector. I can’t protect you from behind when the danger lies ahead.”
“I am better able to protect us than you are. Or is this about what happened in Portlow with Arcannen?”
“This is not about the past.”
“You still think I am not yet healed, that I can’t be trusted.”
He could barely mask his frustration with her. “I don’t think that. I just want to do my job. But it’s true,” he added, “that I faced Arcannen and fought him to a standstill. Let me use what I learned from that.”
She didn’t say anything for a moment, then she gave a reluctant nod. “All right. You take the lead. No promises that I’ll let you keep it, though.”
He had to settle for that. He knew she wouldn’t give him anything more. Whatever she claimed, she was looking to settle accounts with Arcannen. If the chance presented itself, she would take it. But she was dangerously overconfident, and that could easily lead to recklessness. He would have to watch out for her.
And the boy and the girl.
And perhaps even himself, if time allowed.
The voices atop the bluff had gone suddenly still. A deep, pervasive silence had fallen. Paxon and Avelene slowed automatically, suddenly wary of what might be happening.
Then everything exploded into violence and horror, and it seemed in that instant as if the whole world had gone mad.
Reyn Frosch stood motionless atop the plateau, facing out toward the hundreds of Red Slash soldiers who had suddenly lost all control over their muscle function. The wishsong magic had robbed them of their ability to move, severing the lines of communication between their brains and their bodies, turning them into living statues. The boy could feel the magic working, the vibrations that signaled its presence audible above the crackle of the torch flames burning along the perimeter of the Red Slash ranks. He could see the astonishment, anger, and fear reflected in the eyes of their commander and those men and women standing closest to him, and he experienced within himself a strange mix of elation and revulsion.
What he had done felt both satisfying and at the same time horrific, and his conflicting emotions warred within him.
Arcannen strode forward imperiously, coming to a stop directly in front of Usurient and peering into his helpless eyes. “What was that you were saying?” the sorcerer whispered. “That nothing can save me? That I am a fool?”
He reached into his robes and brought out a skinning knife. “What should I do with you?” he continued softly. “What sort of punishment should I visit on someone who destroys an entire village? Who kills innocent, helpless people? Should I skin you alive?”
He lifted the blade in front of the man’s frantic eyes and ran its edge smoothly down the bridge of his nose, splitting it open. “How does that feel?” he asked, dipping his finger into the other man’s blood and wiping it on his lips. “Sting a little bit, does it?”
Usurient was screaming, but no sound came from his paralyzed throat. Reyn felt sick. Watching Arcannen torture the helpless man was causing him to recoil from his own efforts, and already he could feel his control slipping.
“Stop this, Arcannen!” he heard Lariana hiss. “Reyn can’t maintain his hold over the magic forever!”
She was genuinely angry, and it caused the sorcerer to turn. “Careful, Lariana,” he cautioned. “It could just as easily be you on the receiving end instead of this pathetic creature.”
But he put away the knife and stepped back. “Still, she’s right, Dallen. Time slips away. You and I must say good-bye.”
He stretched out his arm toward one of the torches, and a solitary brand flew from its iron stanchion into his hand. He held it before the other man teasingly and then touched its flames to his clothes and set him afire.
The flames engulfed Dallen Usurient immediately. They should not have burned with such fury, but Arcannen had used his magic to apply an accelerant. The Red Slash Commander lit up like a stack of dry kindling, his entire body engulfed by crackling flames. Reyn had a glimpse of the man’s horrified face as he struggled in vain to break free of the killing fire; then he disappeared into the conflagration and was consumed.
Without giving his victim even the briefest backward glance, Arcannen walked out into the burial ground amid the remainder of the Red Slash soldiers and looked around. “In the time you have left, remember this!” he shouted at them. “You brought this on yourselves!”
His arms lifted and the sleeves of his robes fell away. Reyn watched the sorcerer’s hands weave and gesture. Almost instantly flames leapt from the torches to land on the uniforms of the immobilized men and women. Like Usurient, they caught fire instantly, the flames spreading swiftly over their bodies to consume them.
Down through the ranks Arcannen strode, waving right and left as he passed by his victims, his gestures drawing streaks of flame to one soldier after another. A dozen, several dozen, a hundred, and then so many that it was impossible to count them, these human torches filled the bluff top. Fueled by flesh-and-blood tinder, the flames spread, creating a blaze of light that soon banished the shadows entirely. The sorcerer danced and whirled and laughed as he continued to wreak his vengeance, and all around him Red Slash soldiers died.