Fate Rides Wicked: Volume I of the Lerilon Trilogy (36 page)

When the expedition could see again, they saw Blard
watching their duplicates ride north, as wet and haggard as
them. Nandel said, “I must hide us from Blackdrad’s eye
so that he will not see through our ruse.” Nandel pulled out
a very small cloak made of black material. With a short
chant, he tossed it above the group and it also evaporated.
“We are no longer visible to his eye and he will be forced
to follow the other group, thinking we were the illusion.”

Tych turned to Blard. “How did you do?”

“I could not create myself in the illusion because
looking into my duplicates face would make it vanish.
That is why I made the flash of light so that your doubles
would remain until they left. I think they will perform
admirably anyway. We should ride.”

“You’re right. Flandroke, take us south.”

They paused some time later and huddled once more
under the torrid rain. “All of you wait here for me. Make a
shelter and fire if you wish, but I must be sure these ends of
the two forces are pulled north. I shall pretend to be a
scout, be discovered and lead them north until I lose them.
It will take a while so make yourself comfortable in this
storm.”

As the others dismounted and got organized to make
shelter, the prince jumped to the ground, turned north and
began to run. In seconds he changed into dragon form and
climbed up near the clouds. Gliding east, he soon
discovered the southern tip of the army of forangen and
humans still marching west. Finding an appropriate place
to land, he alighted about a quarter mile in front of the
sweeping army.

He made a point of slinking around but made it sloppy.
Soon he saw one of the forangen scouts and stepped on a
large branch. The beast turned and saw him. Immediately
the scout began to alert others and came after Tych. With a
flick of his wrist the endaril planted the blade of his dagger
in the throat of the creature from fifty feet away. Then he
let the others see him, turned north and began to run.

A couple of the scouts turned back towards the army to
inform their commanders and the other two gave chase to
the endaril. Tych decided not to outrun them and defeat
them instead. They ran weaving and bobbing through the
forest, but Tych always stayed in view. Finally they came
to a clearing and Tych drew Gaylin.

The two forangen pulled up at the sight of the sword,
breathing heavily from the chase. They looked at their
opponent, only slightly winded, and the sword, seemingly
glowing in the semi-darkness, and paused. They never
reached a decision before they died. Tych gave up the
element of sport in favor of getting back to the rest of the
group quickly. Sheathing Gaylin, he transformed into a
dragon and launched from the clearing.

He flew west, climbing into the wet sky. In half an
hour he reached the edges of this arm of the armies.
Repeating his earlier tricks, he soon had four or five
forangen and a human chasing him through the woods
headed north. This time, however, they kept up with him
better and he realized he might have to turn and fight.

Trying to avoid more bloodshed he willed himself
forward trying to reach the speed of a dragon on foot.
Suddenly he found himself running through the trees at the
speed of sound. It so surprised him that he slammed into a
tree and fell unconscious, only surviving because of his
magic armor. As he blacked out, he saw the five evil
soldiers closing in.

Lendril looked up at the last rays of sun being blotted
out on the eastern horizon and cursed. She stood up and
Aquendar did the same, cutting her off from the horses.
She looked up to his face and screamed, “How can you stop
me?!! He’s been gone too long!”

Aquendar just placed a steadying hand on her shoulder
and said, quietly, “Yes, and it is time for action. By now
the army has discovered our little trick and they will be
moving south. We will decide this the way Tych would
want us to. Suggestions?”

“I say we ride right into the teeth of that army, do as
much damage as we can and rescue Tych at the same time,”
offered Reichet.

Aquendar shook his head. “I think we should split up
into two groups, one to go get Blackdrad and one to rescue
Tych.”

“But we need Tych to beat that mad sorcerer. He’s too
dangerous for just us,” responded Vilmar, the hiftnuvin
archer.

Blard spoke in his deepest voice as he said, “If we
destroy Blackdrad, the humans in the army will come out
of the spell they’re under and begin fighting the forangen.
Who knows what a human might do to Tych in all of that
confusion?”

Lendril offered the most acceptable option, combining
all the suggestions, and they acted immediately. Aquendar,
Loktaro, Blard, Flandroke and Wiltev left the group and
began to ride northwest of west. The others cleaned their
blades, put up a watch and tried to get some rest.

Tych began to regain consciousness. He heard voices
around him, some of them in weird forangen tongue. As he
started to get lucid enough to think, he heard somebody
say, in Lian, “Just put him back to sleep, sorcerer.
Blackdrad wants a rematch.” In seconds, the endaril went
back into his sleep.

The four humans dismounted at the first sighting of a
watch fire’s smoke and gave their horses to the pemilon.
Flandroke gave orders to the steeds and they followed him
back towards the camp. The magician and three warriors
approached the camps on foot, slipping by the sentries with
ease. Aquendar had informed them of their plan and they
squatted near a circle of soldiers trying to stay warm in the
rain.

Huddled against the storm, they waited until only four
remained at the fire. Then, using all the stealth they could
muster, they disarmed, gagged and disrobed the surprised
soldiers. After tying up their captives, the expedition group
assumed places around the fire identical to the places of the
original owners of the armor and cloaks.

“Now, Blard,” whispered Aquendar.

Quietly, the apparitionist chanted and drew arcane
symbols in the air. For the three warriors the spell seemed
to be taking forever, fear of questions weighing on them. A
soldier came walking by and Aquendar calmed the others
with his eyes and indicated he would be the one to answer.

“What are you doing there, Fentro?” asked the soldier
of Blard.

Aquendar grunted as if in disgust and said, “He’s had a
little too much to drink and started freaking out. Don’t let
it bother you.”

“My brother doesn’t drink, whoever you are. I don’t
remember seeing you at the fire earlier.” The soldier
moved closer to the fire to get a better look, but missed the
wink Aquendar gave to Wiltev.

Caught up in challenging Aquendar, the soldier failed
to notice Wiltev slide down his log into position for an
attack. As Aquendar stood, Blard’s spell finished and the
warrior became the soldier whose clothes he wore. A tense
moment passed, with Wiltev poised to strike and Aquendar
hesitating.

Finally, the soldier said, “Sorry, my mistake on the
identity. But you still haven’t explained my brother’s
behavior.”

Aquendar started to speak, saying, “He seems to...”

“Do not worry, brother. I was just being silly to
entertain myself in this dreary weather,” finished Blard.

“Then I suppose I’ll just continue my rounds. Don’t
forget you go on watch in the next hour.” The soldier
moved onward into his patrol. Blard nodded and breathed
a silent sigh of relief as the soldier left.

Aquendar said in a low voice, “We had best disappear
into another part of the army so that when the bodies are
discovered we won’t also be around. They’ll miss us when
Blard, or Fentro, doesn’t show up for rounds.”

The horse master stood up and began towards the center
of the camp. The other three fell in next to him and around
him. “Our appearances won’t stand up to the light of day,”
whispered Blard.

“By then we won’t want to look like the dead men.
We’ll be blended into the army already,” answered
Aquendar.

The warrior almost jumped to action as a hand fell
lightly on his shoulder, but it was only Wiltev. “Look, up
ahead. It appears we have found the captive area.”

Ten or twelve soldiers milled around a small courtyard
and tents with bars for walls surrounded it. The four
positioned themselves against the wall of a tent in the
shadows from the fire. For a long time nobody passed near
them and the courtyard remained relatively calm. In the
flickering light with all the shadows and rain, they couldn’t
pick out Tych among the captives. All of them slept lightly
in the center of the “cells” as far away from the additional
cold of the rain as possible.

Aquendar discerned Tych in a moment of brightness
after a log sent sparks from the fire. The endaril had
shifted and seemed to be waking. “Get that sorcerer in
here. The dangerous one is coming around,” ordered one
of the soldiers. One of the others came charging by on his
way to fetch the magician and Aquendar had to stay
Wiltev’s blade.

“We will kill the sorcerer. If we start a battle now he
may come anyway and stop us all,” the warrior whispered
to his aggressive neighbor.

Wet and getting cold, the four stood hidden for
seemingly countless moments. Finally, a robed man and
the soldier came walking by then paused. The magician
had stopped and held up the soldier with his hand. “Who
hides there in the shadows? Show yourselves.”

Aquendar pushed back Wiltev and Blard and stepped
into the light. The magician came closer, sensing
something wrong, but not quite sure how to measure the
danger involved. In a flash, the horse master placed a
dagger in the sorcerer’s neck and severed his head from his
body. He then flicked the bloody blade at the nearby
soldier and waved the others into the courtyard. As the
messenger fell, grasping at his chest, Aquendar pulled out
his huge sword and began towards Tych’s cage.

The element of surprise allowed the four to even the
odds before a call went up. Wiltev saw Tych sit up in his
cage and try to clear his head. The human knew the endaril
would soon make the battle easier, since the soldiers
already came to the aid of their comrades.

Tych, meanwhile, only saw a blur of bodies and blades
as he tried to stop the swimming in his head. Something in
the sorcerers’ spells had drugged him into a haze. He knew
he must get out and regain his vision, so he stood and tried
to walk clean blood through his system.

Two soldiers took on the mighty blade of Aquendar at
once. He dispatched one, and with a quick flick, disarmed
the other. The weaponless soldier turned and picked up a
small barrel of water. The horse master smiled and caught
the wooden vessel on the end of his blade. He flicked it
over his shoulder and it sailed into the bars of Tych’s cage,
shattering itself and the bars. Aquendar had no intention of this happening
and he remained unaware of it. His opponent dashed off to
find another blade as two more came at him.

Suddenly, with a large explosion of shattering wood, all
combat stopped and the soldiers started backing out of the
courtyard. Blard stumbled back towards Tych’s cage,
grasping a deep wound on his right arm, only to bump into
a golden-scaled leg.

Tych swung his large head down to look at Blard.
Through dragon teeth as big as Blard’s forearm, he asked,
“Can you ride? The soldiers will soon be back with bows
and more courage and I don’t want to kill any more of
them.”

“Just get me up there and get us out of here,” the
apparitionist answered. Aquendar and Wiltev sheathed
their swords and gave the magician a boost up. Loktaro
scrambled up top and pulled him onto Tych’s neck. The
other two warriors used the dragon’s knee to mount and a
very heavy prince launched into the air, battling to climb
high enough above the trees to use teleportation to get
momentum. Bows twanged, as Tych became a streak of
gold across the eerie, clouded sky.

Ofeldar stood not more than fifty feet from the guard at
the gate, but few had the skill to spot her. Still as the tree
trunks around her in her brown armor, she waited for the
guard to leave to go relieve himself. An hour had passed
and his flagon of beer lay empty at his feet, so she knew he
must leave soon.

With a grunt and a wipe of his sleeve across his mouth,
the soldier walked a few feet down the wall and began to
unbutton his pants. Stealth of an expert woodsman let
Ofeldar creep up behind the guard and place a dagger
against the left side of his back. “Keep holding it and keep
quiet or you die,” she whispered in his ear. Vilmar had
made a concoction known to his people that molded around
the blade like clay. It slowly attached itself until it had
clamped on to whatever it touched.

As Ofeldar held the guard facing away from the gate,
the rest of the expedition slipped quietly behind her into the
city. Vilmar let out a light whistle to let her know the clay
would stay. Without making the soldier aware of it, the
scout slipped away and made haste for the gate.

The guard just stood there, holding himself, still feeling
the dagger pressed against his back. The blade had not left,
but Ofeldar had. Eventually he grew brave enough to take
on the woman holding him and spun. His embarrassment
only increased as a small detachment of city guards came
towards him as he danced around half naked, looking for
his opponent.

The expedition slipped down dark streets, dirty and
damp. Only a few people wandered about their business
and many of the shops showed no sign of activity, some of
them with boards across the window. Ofeldar and Lendril
led the group, as they tried to avoid being spotted by any
city guards. With most of the men out combing the land
for Tych, the chance of discovery lessened. Still, they
walked with caution.