figure out why the light went out. His hands remain free of weapons as he continues to scrutinize the house.
Moving along the inside wall of the farmhouse, Jiron makes his way over to the window on the opposite side. Slipping through, he lands on the ground outside silently and makes his way back around to the front. When he gets to the corner he peers around to find the man still sitting there.
Suddenly, an orb flashes into being above the man’s head, startling him. He draws his sword and makes to flee.
“Wait!” cries out Jiron as he places his knife back in its sheath. The man is obviously from the north.
James realizes the same thing and comes out from the house. “We’re friends!” he hollers a second behind Jiron. The orb above the man’s head winks out as another appears over James’ shoulder.
“James?” the man asks.
Stepping forward, James nods his head.
Sighing in relief, the man says, “You scared me out of ten year’s growth.”
“Sorry,” he apologizes.
“No harm done,” the man replies. “We’ve had riders out looking for you ever since you blew the bridge earlier today.”
“Are you from Black Hawk?” Jiron asks.
“That’s right,” the man says. “Was supposed to let you know where he is.”
“We already know,” explains James. “Tell him our horses are exhausted and we will be there in the morning. Also, there’s a sizeable force a half a day away to the north. Another one is closing on him from the east, at least two thousand riders strong.”
“With the mages coming from the south this could get bad,” the rider comments.
“Mages?” asks James. “What mages?” He glances to Jiron and sees the worry in his eyes.
“Heard from another scout that had come from the south that there are a score of them,” he explains.
“How close were they?” Jiron asks.
“Last I heard they were a day away,” he tells him. “But that was this morning and at the time they weren’t making any effort to catch us, just keeping pace.”
James thinks for a minute then says, “Tell Illan to stay where he is and prepare for attack. We’ll get there as soon as it’s light. Hopefully no attack will come before then.”
“Yes, sir,” the scout says then turns his horse around and gallops away into the night.
Jiron hears a sigh escape James. Glancing over to him he arcs an eyebrow questioningly.
“A score of mages,” he says. “How am I going to best a score of mages?”
“Remember what you did at the City of Light?” he asks.
“Yes I do,” he replies with a nod. “But if I do that, I’ll end up killing us all. That much power would surely create an explosion of epic proportions. Our people would never get away in time to escape the blast.”
“You always say that if you have time to prepare, you can do anything,” Jiron states.
“I never said I could do anything, just that it is easier on me,” he corrects.
Jiron looks at him with an expression that says ‘stop nitpicking’. “What I mean is, you have all night,” he clarifies. “Can’t you come up with something?”
His mind is frozen with the thought of having to face twenty mages. He simply can’t get around that fact. Back before they bolted into the buried city, the mages were kicking his butt badly. These are most likely the very same mages. What has changed other than he’s more tired now and has fewer reserves with which to draw upon?
Shaking his head, he says, “I’m sorry. Maybe it’s just that I’m exhausted.” He can see the disappointment in his eyes.
Jiron stares at him for a moment. Finally breaking the silence, he says, “Then you get some sleep. I’ll keep watch.”
James lays back on his blanket with the knowledge he’s let his friend down. I’m only a man! That’s the problem with always coming up with clever strategies, everyone keeps expecting you to be able to do it again, time after time. Maybe a little rest will clear my mind.
Before falling asleep, he glances over to see Jiron by the window staring out into the night. Closing his eyes, he relaxes and let’s sleep claim him.
“ Wake up!”
Fighting the fog of sleep, James opens his eyes. It’s still dark outside and Jiron is shaking his shoulder.
“We got company,” he whispers in his ear when James stirs.
Coming awake quickly James abruptly sits up. The sound of many horses fast approaching comes to him. All vestiges of sleep leave him as he gets to his feet. He follows Jiron to the window overlooking the direction from which the riders are approaching. Pulling a slug from his belt, he gazes out the window but only sees blackness.
“Who are they?” he asks.
“Don’t know,” replies Jiron.
As the riders draw closer, they emerge from the dark as indistinct shadows in the false dawn of morning. The shadows are heading in the general direction of the abandoned farmhouse and will pass by close. James holds his breath as they near.
“Think we’ll get there in time?” they hear one rider ask.
“If we don’t, there’ll be hell to pay,” another replies.
They speak northern! Must be members of the Alliance come to the aid of Black Hawk. James moves to the door and rushes outside. “Friends!” he yells as he exits the farmhouse.
“James, no!” hollers Jiron in a hushed voice.
The riders, over a hundred strong, come to an abrupt stop at the sound of his greeting. They then turn back to the farmhouse.
“We don’t know they’re friends,” Jiron says as he comes to stand beside him.
“Who are you?” asks one of the riders. His voice is rather gruff and when he stops before James the smell coming from him is almost overpowering. He smells like a man who’s never seen the inside of a bathtub in his life.
James begins to realize his mistake. The men are wearing a hodgepodge of uniforms, all are extremely dirty. One man who stops next to the one who asked the question has a necklace slung around his neck that looks like it has fingers and ears attached to it rather than beads.
“Uh,” he says then stops.
“We’re travelers,” Jiron pipes up. His right hand rests on the hilt of a knife.
“Travelers eh?” the man with the necklace asks. Several of the others laugh.
“We don’t have time for this,” the first man says. “Kill them.”
“Eyes!” he yells to Jiron a fraction of a second before a massive starburst explodes just above James’ head. The suddenness of the explosion startles the men and momentarily blinds them.
Jiron wastes no time. Jumping for the leader, he strikes with a knife and pulls him from his horse. When the leader hits the ground the man with the necklace is struck with a slug, sending him flying off his horse.
Swinging into the leader’s saddle, Jiron takes the reins and lays about him with his knives. The men, still half blinded by the flash of light are unable to fend off his attacks. “Come on man,” he yells to James.
Grabbing the empty saddle that once held the man with the necklace, he pulls himself up. Another man cries out as Jiron deals him a lethal blow. Reaching down to grab the reins, he feels the blade of a sword pass where his head had just been. Lashing out with magic, he sends a wave of force toward his attacker which knocks him backward off his horse.
Once he has the reins, he kicks his horse in the sides and bolts through the ring of half blind attackers. Jiron plunges his knife in the throat of one last attacker before he follows. Knocking men and horses aside, they race away from the farmhouse.
Crumph! Crumph! Crumph!
Three explosions rip through the group of horsemen.
Flying across the ground in the predawn light, they quickly leave the scene of the attack behind. Heading southwest, they make for Illan’s last known position.
“Don’t ever do that again!” criticizes Jiron. “Just because someone speaks your language does not make
