“What is that gonna do?” Rylin asks, curiously hopeful.
“With your help, tell us which way they went,” he explains. “Now, if you could find me something that one of the women used to wear, or have with them often?”
“Why do you want that?” he asks.
“If I have something of theirs, it will help me to locate them.” Looking at Rylin and seeing he still failed to comprehend, James adds, “With magic.”
“You don’t look like a mage,” he says.
“I can’t do it without something of theirs,” James says, getting somewhat irritated at the man. “Are you going to help or not? You’re wasting time we can ill afford to lose.”
Getting up, Rylin rummages around inside the wagon and returns with a green scarf. “Sheila, the merchant’s daughter, used to wear this often. Will it do?” he asks as he hands it down to James.
“Let’s see,” James replies as he takes it. Wrapping the scarf around his hand, he holds the compass nestled within it. Closing his eyes he concentrates, thinking of the owner of the scarf and wanting to find her. He lets loose the power and the compass slowly swivels to the south, away from the road and into the grasslands.
Showing it to Rylin he points toward the south and says, “She’s that way.”
“Is she alive?” he asks earnestly.
“It doesn’t tell me that, just where she is,” he responds. “Even if she’s dead, we can still deal with the bandits.” Turning to Miko he says, “Bring our horses.” Miko hurries to comply and soon returns with the three animals.
As he and Miko make ready to ride, Rylin asks, “What about me?”
“Get on behind Miko,” James says, trying to ignore the look he flashes him. Once Rylin has mounted, James turns his horse in the direction indicated by the compass. “Let’s ride quick and see if we can catch them.” Without waiting for a reply, he kicks his horse into a gallop and they race off the road into the grasslands with James leading the way.
The rain steadily worsens, increasing until it’s a heavy downpour and reducing visibility to mere feet. It doesn’t take long before the ground begins showing signs of the bandits’ progress. The grass becomes increasingly trampled and the mud rain-soaked earth begins to show hoof prints. No longer needing his compass, James puts it away and concentrates on the trail before them.
“We must be gaining,” James says when they pull alongside him.
“Yes, I believe you are correct,” agrees Rylin. “How far behind do you think we are?”
“Not sure,” admits James. “Though I’ve never done any tracking before, I doubt if we are very far behind them.”
Not understanding Miko asks, “How do you know?”
Pointing to the trail they are following, James says, “The rain hasn’t had enough time to be able to remove the signs of their passing. Therefore, they can’t be too far ahead.”
“That makes sense,” Miko says looking at the signs of the bandits passing.
“If this rain continues as it is, we may end up riding right into them before we even know they are there,” says Rylin.
“That’s a chance we’ll have to take,” James says. A moment later, he comes to a stop and dismounts for a moment. Scanning the ground, he picks up several stones and places them in one of his pockets.
“What do you need those for?” Rylin asks.
“Ammunition,” answers James, grimly.
“Ammunition?” asks Rylin, “What’s that?”
“When we catch them,” James explains as he swings back into the saddle, “you’ll see.”
Mounted again, they once more set off after the bandits. Another hour passes and the rain continues its relentless downpour. The trail becomes clearer and more distinct now that they have narrowed the gap. Even with the torrential deluge, they have little trouble making it out.
Then, from out of the rain ahead comes a woman’s scream. “Sheila!” shouts Rylin. Kicking their horses into a gallop, they race forward hoping to arrive in time.
No sooner had James reached a full gallop, than indistinct shadows appear before him. Unable to stop in time, he rushes headlong into the bandits’ camp, knocking down two of them before even realizing they are there. As the two bandits hit the ground his horse slams into the side of a tent and the unexpected impact vaults him from the saddle. He hits the tent and it collapses beneath him.
“To arms! Intruders!” sounded the alarm.
James rolls and clears the side of the collapsing tent, gaining his feet. He looks around and sees men running toward him with swords drawn. Reaching into his pocket he pulls out the stones. With magic aiding aim and velocity, one of his missiles strikes the nearest attacker square in the chest. The bandit looks in startled surprise at the hole that appeared in his chest before collapsing to the ground, dead.
Three more men are bearing down on him so he turns and runs, keeping distance between them. He concentrates, then stops suddenly and spins quickly toward his pursuers, casting his flashing light spell. The brilliance of the flash causes them to pause for an instant, long enough for him to throw three more stones in quick succession, taking them out.
“To me!” he hears a commanding voice pierce the air. “To me!”
A clash of metal off to his right signals Rylin’s entry into the battle. Following the sound, he finds the caravan guard hard pressed battling two of the bandits. Using his last stone, he nails one of them in the side, dropping him to the ground. Rylin steps back a moment and glances over to see James, who is but a shadow in the rain. He acknowledges him with a nod and then continues the attack on the remaining bandit pressing him.
James moves in the direction from which the commanding voice had called out earlier. Darting around another tent, he spies a group of men heading toward him. One is covered in armor and wielding a long sword, obviously the leader. They are heading toward the sound of Rylin’s battle with the bandit.
He waits too long and one of the approaching bandits sees him standing by the tent and cries out, pointing him out to the others. The leader yells for them to charge and they surge forward, swords drawn.
Seeing a dozen men bearing down on him, James turns and runs, angling away from where Rylin is battling in the hopes of giving him time to finish his opponent before help arrives.
Another shape materializes out of the rain ahead of him and he prepares another spell. Then he realizes it’s Miko leading the horses and mule.
“Are you okay?” Miko asks before spying the raging, sword waving men emerging out of the rain behind James.
“Get the hell out of here!” James yells at Miko, then turns to face the men. He concentrates on the ground near the leading edge of the attackers and lets loose a massive surge of power just as the men enter the targeted area.
Crrrrumph!
The ground erupts, throwing men, mud and rocks high into the air. James cries out at the pain caused by unleashing so much power at once. He drops to his knees, refusing to give in to unconsciousness.
Surveying the damage through the rain and falling mud, he sees most of the men lie unmoving. From behind the scene of carnage, three men, one being the leader, walk around the crater in the ground he just made. Coming toward him cautiously, the men gain confidence when they see him on his knees.
James grabs a stone from off the ground as he climbs to his feet and faces the approaching men. “Stand back!” he yells, putting more strength and confidence in his voice than he really feels. “Lest you wish to die.”
“You’re the one to die, mage,” the leader says as he continues his approach, a smug smile upon his face. “You can’t have much left in you after that, not if it left you on your knees.”
Coming off his knees through a sheer force of will, James stands straight and tall, praying that his knees won’t collapse on him. “Die then,” he yells and throws the stone at the leader while casting his spell. There is no familiar out-surging of power and the rock glances harmlessly off the leader’s armor. His magic has been all but depleted and the effort to draw on the little remaining to him causes dots to dance before his eyes.
Laughing, the leader says “Take him boys.” His two men come at James as he turns and tries to run away. But his weak legs give out and drop him to the ground. Turning, he sees his death coming at a run.
Thwock!
A crossbow bolt flies out of the rain to strike one of the men in the shoulder, spinning him backward. The
