Wartorn: Resurrection

stubborn as some expected.'

Behind her Xink was having as much difficulty getting himself aboard his horse as she was mounting hers. 'What did you expect?'

Merse gave his reins a lazy flick; it looked like a shrug. 'I tried not to expect anything. Petgrad has accumulated a good number of—well, enemies isn't the word. But other cities envy us. Our prosperity. Our stability. I didn't know how quick anyone would be to fall into an alliance with us.'

'I suppose,' Praulth said, 'we're all facing the same enemy now.'

Merse grunted. 'Figured that out, have you? Thank gods Cultat knows how to pick his military experts.'

An angry flush went through her, but she found herself without a ready retort. Well, she was still

learning such things. She wanted to know if the premier had gathered enough troops to reenact the Battle of Torran Flats, as she had suggested, but she didn't want another barb from Merse just yet.

Whatever the current state of the war, she was going to be a part of it. Premier Cultat needed her. She was crucial. She was going off to face Dardas, and that thought was so utterly astounding, it made her giddy.

At last she was fixed into the saddle. She and Xink had packed some supplies, but belongings were useless. Besides, what could she bring away from the University—this place of learning and self-fulfilling academic advancement—that could help in what she was going to do?

Xink had settled matters with the head of the student body council. To her surprise, the man had said that their quarters in the Blue Annex would wait for their return. Unusual, considering the widespread need for student housing on campus. Perhaps Xink's status as Attache had leveraged it.

Praulth let a soft laugh drift past her lips. The horse moved under her, following Merse's.

If status had anything to do with it, surely it was hers. Perhaps word of her accomplishments had spread among the faculty.

They left the campus, then picked their way quickly through the township of Febretree. When they reached the road north, Merse set the pace. It was a fast one, and Praulth didn't know if she was up to handling an animal at such speed for any length of time. But she held on. Xink did the same, at her side.

She looked at him, suddenly wanting to speak. His dark hair whipped very becomingly behind him. His face was as handsome as ever—high cheekbones, soft lips. Praulth felt herself surge, reflexively. The excitement was emotional and physical. She didn't begrudge the sensations.

Xink had deceived her. Yes. As Honnis had deceived her. But Xink had also volunteered to accompany her on this journey. He was leaving behind an even higher academic ranking than she was. He had a future with Mistress Cestrello and the sociology council. Yet, he had not hesitated. Praulth was going to Petgrad, so he was, too.

She smiled, watching him sidelong, as they bounced and bounded atop their steeds. She smiled until he noticed and tentatively returned it. Then she looked ahead, watching the road unfold toward a destiny that awaited her in a city she had never seen.

RASTAC (5)

HER FINGERS DRUMMED the pommel of her combat sword, which she had refused to swap for an inferior Felk-issued one. She also didn't think much of their uniforms. She'd retained her bracers and the leather armor that protected her upper body. Such minor variations in gear were common to soldiers in any military, however, and shouldn't draw undue notice.

They had infiltrated the vast Felk encampment by means of magic that Radstac hadn't known existed a lune ago.

Deo wore his borrowed Felk garb with perfect naturalness, the crossbow he'd commandeered from one of the scouts slung casually at his side. He was a dead shot with one, he claimed. Whatever else, he was no braggart.

Radstac knew who he intended to kill with the weapon. Finding that individual in this sea of personnel and equipment might well undo those intentions.

They were walking away from the place where the second mage had opened the corresponding portal, Linking her and Deo's bizarre journey from that small scout camp. Radstac had stayed focused

during that jaunt, narrowing her honed, mansid-stimulated senses so that she concerned herself only with the forward step she took and the one which was to follow. Ignore the white chaos all around. Go forward. Step-by-step. Pay no heed to those unsettling sounds in the depthless distance. Reach the far end. It was a simple matter.

Those brief moments had, nonetheless, constituted one of the most disturbing experiences of her life. But her stride and face now gave no signs.

She was listening, waiting for the alarm to be raised behind them. She suspected that Deo, by her side, was doing the same. Those two wizards in the scouting party had arranged for this transport. The one that communicated over distances—the female of the two—had coordinated the opening of the portals with her counterpart here at this camp. Then the wizard who worked the actual portal magic—the male—conjured a ... breach, which Radstac and Deo had entered. To emerge here, which evidently was quite some distance from where they'd started. Yet they had walked no more than ten steps. Amazing.

Radstac didn't know, however, if that Far Speak wizard had passed a warning along as well. She might have, even with the sword edge that the bandit chief Anzal had helpfully held to her throat while she performed the communicating magic. Who knew what these Felk magicians were capable of? They were quite unlike the cloistered healers that existed on the Southern Continent.

That bandit gang had at last received their payment for services rendered. Or at least the promissory note that could be redeemed in Petgrad. Deo had put his signature to the document. The bandits were doubtlessly pleased that they hadn't had to personally deliver Deo to the Felk after all. This shortcut had facilitated things.

But it did bring up another point, Radstac mused. What was she still doing here?

They heard no alarm. Around them the camp buzzed and bustled, apparently in readiness to move out. It was a staggering number of troops, filling this shallow valley, a larger army than any Radstac had ever seen. She had already known that this war was not a typically petty Isthmus conflict, but seeing the evidence spread so impressively about drove the fact home.

How, she wondered, was all this going to end? Deo's uncle had hopes of raising an army to meet this one ... but it might well be too late for such measures. Look at these numbers. And these Felk had magic—remarkably sophisticated magic—on their side.

If they did indeed capture the entire Isthmus, would they be content with that? Something cold rippled through Radstac's innards at the thought. It was a possibility she had not considered before. But it was an eventuality that her cold-blooded mercenary's mind had to acknowledge.

What if the Felk, having conquered this land, decided to invade the Southsoil?

She stayed alert, as she and Deo picked their way along. No one accosted them, which was fortunate.

They had left the Felk scouts in the hands of those bandits. Deo hadn't given any last orders about their disposition, which likely meant that Anzal's band had simply done the sensible thing and dispatched the whole group. Radstac couldn't imagine what else they would do.

And why exactly wasn't she doing the smart thing? Accompanying Deo on this final leg of his self-appointed objective to assassinate the commander of this huge army was not a wise decision on her part. Then again, it wasn't her decision. Not really. She was still in Deo's employ ... although she suspected that if she asked to be released, he would grant the request. But she couldn't bring herself to go.

Do the smart thing first. Next, the most economical, the safest, the most self-fulfilling, and the thing that will most confuse your enemies. When all that is done, do the stupid thing.

Evidently Radstac had reached this last point in her personal itinerary of behavior.

Deo's elbow nudged her leather-padded ribs.

'The high ground,' he said softly.

She nodded.

He was really going to try it. Find a vantage, find his target. Put a crossbow bolt into the war commander