around the camp. Settling down into his blanket, he tries to relax and eventually falls asleep.
In a room adjacent to the Great Hall, several mages stand around a circular table with a mirrored surface. The master in control of the Table of Sight directs the image as he scans the wreckage. Mages he has known for years, some for decades lie dead. Two, Inyi included, were accounted among the most powerful at the School. And for them to be so easily taken out didn’t bode well.
The door to the room opens as the High Lord Magus enters. Turning to face him, the master wilts slightly under the burning glare of Kerith-Ayxt.
“Inyi’s gone my lord,” the master says with a slight tremor in his voice.
Burning with barely controlled rage, the High Lord Magus says in a voice deceptively calm, “Show me.”
Moving aside, the master makes room for Kerith-Ayxt to view the image. As the master shows his lord the faces of the dead he can feel the rage mounting in him. Finally settling the image on the lone mage who survived the blast he says, “Only Nyz survived.”
“Send riders to bring him back,” he orders. As one of the other mages leaves the room to carry out his orders, Kerith-Ayxt turns to the master in charge of the Table. “Find the mage.”
The master licks his lips in nervousness as he turns his full attention to the Table. Sending magic into the Table, he hunts for the mage but to no avail. The image of the Table shifts and ripples but fails to reveal anything. “I am unable to milord,” the mage finally admits as he halts the search.
“Slaves are due here by noon,” Kerith-Ayxt states. He turns to look at the mage and says, “When they are, use them to find this mage.” The tone of his voice leaves little doubt of his fate should the master fail.
“Yes, milord,” the master replies.
Kerith-Ayxt motions for another mage, one of the Fourth Circle, to come close. “Have the First’s go in search of the mage,” he says.
“Milord?” questions the Fourth.
“Have them comb the area to the south and east by horse and foot until they find him,” he clarifies. “If they should find this rogue mage, have them create a beacon that we can home in on. Tell them not to attempt to take the mage on their own but to wait for others. Once we know where exactly to look it should be easy to keep an eye on him.”
“Yes milord,” the Fourth says as he quickly leaves the room.
Turning back to the image of his dead mages, the High Lord Magus seethes with rage.
Early the next morning when the sky is just beginning to lighten with the coming of the dawn, they set out. Same as the day before, they run parallel with the road while maintaining a discreet distance.
Jiron rides point a hundred feet ahead of James and Jared. The sun no sooner begins to crest the horizon before he makes out the silhouette of a rider almost directly ahead. The rider is sitting there staring in their direction. Jiron comes to a stop and waits for the others to join him.
Indicating the rider he asks James, “What do you make of that?”
Staring through the glare of the rising sun, he sees the rider just sitting there. “I’m not sure,” he replies.
“Could he be a scout?” suggests Jared.
“Seems a little young for that,” replies Jiron.
“Probably a farm lad out and about early in the morning,” decides James. “Pay him no attention.”
“Alright,” says Jiron as he gets his horse moving.
They don’t travel very far before James feels the tingling sensation of magic. “He’s a mage!” he exclaims. They look and find the lad with arms raised and sitting still.
“What’s he doing?” Jiron asks.
“I’m not sure but we better find out,” he replies. Kicking his horse into motion he races toward the boy with the other two right behind. Seeing them charging forward, the lad turns his horse and begins racing away.
They begin to gain on the boy when from the west and north, other riders make an appearance as they angle toward the fleeing rider. “Damn!” curses James. With their position now known, it’s unlikely they’ll be able to make an attempt on the School’s library.
More tingling is felt as the riders each summon magic. “They’re all mages,” James tells the others. “We better get out of here before more come.” Turning his horse, he heads north.
“Are they from the School?” asks Jared as he swings in to follow.
“Have to be. Since they couldn’t locate me by magic, they sent riders out to find me,” he speculates.
“But they still aren’t going to be able to track you though, right?” Jared asks nervously.
“They don’t need to track me specifically now,” he explains. “They can simply watch the stretch of desert that we are on and keep track of us that way.”
“So what do we do?” Jared replies.
“Wait for dark and try to lose the watchers then,” he says, though with the riders keeping an eye on them that will be hard to do. With Jiron again in the lead, they race north through the desert, all thoughts of tackling the library gone. Following behind them are five riders, each able to wield magic.
“Finally!” exclaims Kerith-Ayxt as the beacon comes to them. The master in charge of the Table soon has the desert in view where the First indicated. They see the First sitting there staring off across the desert. The master scrolls the image and soon has three riders in view.
“That’s them milord,” the master says.
“Excellent,” breathes the High Lord Magus. Staring at the three, he’s able to easily pick out the mage. To a Mage of the Fourth standing there with him he says, “Gather the Circles. We’re going to ride forth and take care of this mage once and for all.”
“Yes, milord,” the Fourth says with a bow then leaves the room.
To the master in charge of the Table he says, “I shall leave you a couple Firsts and Seconds to aid you. When the slaves come, you know what to do?”
“Yes milord,” the master says with a nod, never taking his eyes off the mage’s party.
Kerith-Ayxt glances one last time at the image of the riders riding hard before leaving to make ready to ride. When he had been selected to be the High Lord Magus, he thought his days of battle were behind him. Relishing the thought of again being able to wield magic in battle he hurries from the room.
The five riders continue to follow. For two hours, James, Jiron and Jared have been fleeing northward and still the five riders continue to pace them. Once they tried to turn and confront them, but they simply ran away. Apparently they are only there to keep them in sight.
At one point they stop to rest their horses while James digs a shallow hole in the desert. Within the depression, he places one of his pouches and opens it as wide as it will go. Taking out one of their few remaining water bottles, he pours the contents into the pouch.
“What is he doing?” Jared asks Jiron.
“He’s trying to figure out which is the best way to go,” he says. “Without his mirror, he needs a flat reflective surface to do it.”
Jared keeps an eye on the five riders behind them who came to a stop when they did. He’s glad all they wish to do is observe.
Once the water fills the pouch, James waits a moment for the surface to stabilize then releases the magic. Aside from the five riders behind them, there aren’t a whole lot of others in the area. To the west lies a road running north and south. All that’s on the road is a slave caravan heading south.
“Is there a town where we could acquire fresh horses?” Jiron asks. “We could outdistance them over time if we could.”
“Let me check,” he says as he returns to the image upon the water. Northward lies nothing but desert. To the west along the road a little north of the caravan sits a small town. There’s an inn as well as several other businesses situated along the road.
“I think I found one,” he says and then relates what he saw.
“That will work,” states Jiron. “How far?”
Checking the image again, he says, “Half an hour give or take ten minutes.” Carefully removing the pouch, he pours as much of the water as he can back in the water bottle. Once the pouch and water bottle are again secured behind his saddle, he mounts.
Indicating in which direction the town lies, James nods for Jiron to again take the lead. Flying across the desert they make good time, all the while the five riders remain behind them. Less than a half hour later, the town
