continuously knock them backward.
Before the last few catapults have been struck by the bombs, a not so distant horn sounds from out of the darkness to the right and another answers from the left. It’s a trap!
Chapter Eight
On the far side of the palisade, James and Jiron are led across an open area toward a large tent bearing the Empire’s flag. Now on the other side, they can see just what awaits them in the coming battle, should battle there be. A sea of tents fan out for over a mile. Men are virtually everywhere but most are congregating in the area just behind the palisade, armed and ready for battle. The camp is immense.
The rear of the palisade has a walkway near the top to afford crossbowmen a place to stand while they rain bolts down upon anyone foolish enough to attack. Numerous wagons, horses and the usual accompaniment for an army in the field are present as well.
Around them, the soldiers stand in hushed silence as he’s led through their ranks. Jiron’s right hand stays on the hilt of his knife where it still rests in its scabbard. Walking beside James, he tries to take in as much information about the layout and makeup of this army as he can. Such information could be useful when they return to Lythylla.
As they near what has to be the command tent, two guards stationed at either side of the entrance come to attention as the man leading them passes through. The tingling sensation of magic grows as James makes to enter. Not so much that another is increasing what they are already doing, rather that he’s coming into closer proximity to it.
“There’s magic inside, stay close,” he says in a whisper to Jiron before entering.
A table has been erected within the tent, large enough to accommodate a dozen men. More guards are stationed within the room as well as two crossbowmen. What he sees seated at the table stops him in his tracks. At the head of the table sits a warrior priest of Dmon-Li. To his right is an officer and to his left a man in robes, obviously a mage. He can hear Jiron’s slight intake of surprise when he, too, comes to realize what they are facing.
Stiffening his backbone, James takes another three steps into the tent before coming to a stop.
The warrior priest looks him up and down, sizing him up. Completely encased in armor except for his helm which sits on a stand behind him, the man makes an imposing sight. Shoulder length black hair with dark, piercing eyes that seem to bore to James’ very soul gives him a foreboding feel.
“We’ve met before,” the warrior priest replies.
Surprised, James says, “I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure.” This man doesn’t look like Abula-Mazki, but who knows when you’re dealing with the gods.
“Almost had you outside of Kern, but was balked by the commander of Cardri’s forces,” the warrior priest replies. “Almost came to war, but we decided upon discretion at that time.” After Saragon when he and Jiron were coming through Mountainside, they were set upon by a warrior priest that hounded them all the way into Cardri. This must be him.
The warrior priest’s intense gaze continues to bore into James as he says, “You wished this meeting. Why?”
His confidence is somewhat dampened by the knowledge of facing off against a warrior priest and he hesitates. Suddenly what he came here to say sounds weak and stupid. “I came here to tell you the time of the Empire’s occupation of Madoc is at an end. Your forces must return back behind the original border.”
The officer beside the warrior priest barks out in cruel laughter. “Madoc is all but ours now,” he says. “We are not about to simply hand it back.”
James glances to each of the three behind the table as he considers how to get the heck out of there. He hadn’t planned on a warrior priest, a mage maybe, but not one of those. “You have until the sun rises to make up your minds,” he says, stalling for time. He knows what they’ll say, he just needs this to last until Delia and the others make it across the river.
Coming to his feet, the warrior priest says, “You needn’t wait until the morning for our reply.” A sudden spike in the tingling sensation and a blast of energy strikes the shield as the warrior priest gives his reply.
The force of the blast bowls them over and they’re flung from the tent. Still encased within the protective shield, James and Jiron get to their feet as the warrior priest and the mage emerge from the tent.
“Brace yourself,” James says as the tingling spikes yet again.
A ball of flame flies toward them and strikes the shield. Rather than being deflected, it settles upon the shield and begins eating it away. The temperature inside is increasing rapidly, James and Jiron begin perspiring. Nothing but flame can be seen all around them. Whatever is transpiring on the other side of the shield remains unknown.
James can tell the integrity of the shield won’t last much longer under the flame’s attack. He says, “I’m going to give you a crystal. Once you have it, step away from me and say ‘Shield’. It will form a protective shield similar to mine around you.” He opens one of the pouches and hands him a crystal with a deep crimson glow. Before he gives it to him, he adds, “It will only last about ten minutes, less if you are targeted magically.”
Jiron takes the crystal and nods. Stepping back, he says, “Shield!” and a shimmering shield springs up around him.
Reaching into another pouch James removes several other crystals, each glowing a deep crimson. Holding two in each hand, he concentrates and then let’s the magic from each of the crystals flow through him in one massive surge.
Whoom!
The shield surrounding them explodes outwards in a gigantic explosion. Soldiers, tents, and everything else in the vicinity gets lifted up and thrown backward several yards. Those who were closest to the blast lie unmoving upon the ground.
The warrior priest is knocked backward by the unexpected blow, the mage fares even worse. The fiery mass coating the outer side of the shield is blasted outward. The caustic mass flies in every direction, striking men, tents, wagons, etc, including the mage. When it hits, it begins burning and eating away at the flesh. The mage cries out as his flesh is consumed by the fiery mass and is soon lying on the ground, the remnants of his body smoking.
Fires break out all over this section of the camp wherever the fiery mass comes to land. Even the palisade is burning, some of the hellish fire having been thrown that far.
James tosses the now shattered, empty crystals to the ground as another shield springs up around him. Going on the offensive, he lets loose the power…
Crumph! Crumph! Crumph!
…and the ground between him and the warrior priest erupts, throwing dirt and dust into the air.
Once the warrior priest’s vision is obscured, James pulls out two crystals and says, “Activate. Countdown twenty.” Turning to Jiron he says, “Let’s get the hell out of here!”
He tosses them to the ground behind them as they turn to race back toward the palisade. Soldiers are already moving to extinguish the fires burning there before they have a chance to catch. They take no more than two steps when he again feels the tingling sensation spike. “Dodge!” he yells.
Bolting to the right, James feels the sizzle as another fireball shoots past right where they had been a moment earlier. “Keep going,” he says to Jiron. “Whatever you do, don’t look back!”
Just as the tingling sensation spikes again, the countdown reaches zero.
Schtk! Boom!
A blinding white light blossoms behind them and the force of the blast knocks them forward to the ground. Heat and sound accompanies the wall of force and it feels as if their being broiled alive but then it passes by.
“Damn!” Jiron says as he gets back to his feet. “What did you do?”
“Explain later,” replies James. He glances over to the palisade and sees there are still about a thousand men between here and there. Behind him, all traces of magic have disappeared. Hopefully he got the warrior priest with that but he finds that rather unlikely. If Abula-Mazki can survive a mountain falling down on him, this one will probably survive as well.
