His Cure For Magic (Book 2) (11 page)

"I know, but we dare not wait. I'm expecting that they'll continue to underestimate what we're willing to do to put the thorn in
his
side." He turned to Andreaus. "Do you have everything you need?"

The merchant nodded. "As long as we can get out of the city without being seen, I should be able to get the coin to the rebellion. I'll do whatever I can to get you the time you need."

"Lance will return to report once the vintner is safe," Davin said. He reached into a drawer in his desk and lifted up the note from Patmos. He tore it into pieces. "Consider your debt paid."
 

"Come, my dear. We need to prepare." Silas bowed to Davin and Andreaus, and turned to leave.
 

"If you die, she'll die," Davin said behind them. "If she dies, I don't want to live."

Silas bowed again, and led Eryn from the room. As soon as they had reached the hallway, he put his hand on her shoulder. "Are you sure you can handle this?"

She put her own hand on top of his. "Are you sure
you
can handle this?" she replied. "You're putting a lot of faith in Davin."

"We have little other choice. We both want that journal he holds, and if Saretta can bring us to the Dark, we have to take the risk. I hate asking you to come with me, but-"

"Don't worry, Silas. Amman didn't give me this power in order to stand by while others like me are hunted and killed. If I die trying to help them, then I will sit at his His side and bask in His glow, knowing I lived my life to the fullest I was able."

She knew Silas didn't have the same faith in Amman that she did, but he smiled and took his hand away. He pushed open the door to the small guest bedroom where they had left their things and looked inside. "The clothes Davin left you are inside, and it looks like his people found our stash without being caught. He's a resourceful one."
 

Eryn slipped past him and pushed the door closed. There were two stacks on top of the bed. One was a pair of leather breeches and a small leather vest, a black cloth doublet, and another dress, stained and torn and large enough to be worn over the armor. Next to it was Silas' change of clothes - a stained cotton shirt and cotton pants, along with a pair of hard-soled slippers. Davin had offered him more substantial armor, but he had refused. It wouldn't protect him against the Mediator, and he didn't plan on being struck with a sword.

The bundle they had buried outside of Varrow was also in the room, and Eryn opened it to find the wand with the white stone, and her father's books. She put her hand to the journal. "Amman, bless me with the strength to right all wrongs, and make all of my family proud." She picked up the journal and kissed it, and then undressed.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Silas

"I want to thank all of you for volunteering," Silas said to the merchants gathered around their wagons.
 

They were out of Varrow City and in to the Washfall Wood, a mile or more from the city walls. Davin had downplayed the impressiveness of the passage, which extended from a nondescript mound of manure behind his stables, travelled deep enough under the city to pass below even the ancient subterranean passages, and moved in a straight line below the walls and out into the trees. It had taken thousands of gold coins, years of digging, a creative dumping of earth around various points of the existing underground, and the death of hundreds to bring it to fruition. It was Davin's life's work, all in the name of his dream of one day overthrowing the Overlord of Varrow and holding the city as a stronghold against the Empire.

Now he's risking it all to save the woman he loves. I would do the same for you, Alyssa.

Silas' eyes passed over each of the merchants. Most wore the same stained and unkept clothes that he did. Most had little in the world besides what they wore on their backs or carried in their carts. They travelled from village to city, bartering for meats and grains and selling them to
him
at fixed prices, feeding the armies to earn barely enough coin to feed their own family. They had little enough to lose, and Davin had promised them that their wives and children would be well cared for regardless of the outcome.

They were the people of
his
Empire. They were the forgotten, who moved about without notice from soldiers or the Overlords. Their anonymity made them the perfect accomplices.

"Thank
you
, Silas," one of the merchants replied. "Thank you for standing up to
him
. My son was brought to Washfall after he questioned the price of the grain we had brought in and threatened to sell it somewhere else. I don't even know if he's still alive."

"If he is, he'll be free by morning," Silas said. "We'll see to that." He looked over at Eryn, who was sitting on the bench of the wagon in the center of the train.
 

"My girl," another said. "They took her and accused her of prostitution. My girl ain't no prostitute, my Lord. All she did was say no to a soldier. All she did was respect her pa's wishes to stay pure 'til she was wed." He had tears in his eyes and he used a dirty sleeve to wipe them away.

The merchants all spoke out in turn, expressing their anger and sadness at the treatment they had endured beneath
his
boot. Silas listened to all of them, offering individual words of comfort and thanks, and lifting their spirits the way only a leader of men could.
 

"You think this plan will work?" Sharl asked. His wife had been taken over a dozen years earlier for stealing a loaf of bread. He was one of the oldest of the bunch, and while he was certain his wife couldn't have survived the labor of the mines, he clung to the hope that he could earn revenge on her memory.

"I'm sure it will. Take heart in that. They'll be telling stories of this for years to come."
 

It would work because
his
soldiers would be prepared for an attack. What Silas was bringing was something they wouldn't expect. He climbed into the wagon with Eryn. "We'll stop right before we enter the clearing, but only for a moment." He waved at the others, and they all gained their own wagons and eased their horses into a slow trot.
 

###

They could hear the sound of the mines as they moved closer to it, a murmur of voices rising into the crisp night air, backed by the muffled clang and thump of picks and hammers. Stars shined down from the sky above them, but Silas couldn't see them from his position underneath the center wagon.

"Are you well?" he asked.
 

Eryn shifted slightly in the leather harness that was holding them off the ground. "I'm scared."

Silas smiled. "So am I, my dear. So am I."

They rocked and shifted as the wagon trundled forward, the makeshift straps groaning beneath their weight and threatening to spill them to the ground at any moment. The merchants around them were talking to one another, a nervous banter meant to try to fool the soldiers into thinking they belonged, though Silas was sure it would be a failed effort.

They spoke about their children, they spoke about their wives. They spoke of the simple pleasures like fishing and whittling, of minstrels and mummers. They tried to hide their fear. They tried to stand up to it and face it down. They showed the courage of a hundred soldiers, though none had ever picked up a sword in their lives.

Until tonight.

Silas heard the hoofbeats of the approaching soldiers. Judging by the speed of the caravan, they were almost two thirds of the way to the front gates. Luck was with them - they had gotten further than he had hoped.

He couldn't see the mines, but he didn't need to. His nose caught the scent of heat and sweat and death, and in that moment he remembered. Not this mine, but the mines of Killorn, where ten times or more the number of people worked day and night to dig out the ores that
he
craved so desperately. How many people had General Talon Rast brought to those mines? How much pain and suffering was he responsible for?

"Hold!" The soldiers reached them. The wagons rolled to a stop.

"We... We have a delivery of supplies. A... A special replacement order." The merchants had put Oli in charge of speaking. He was the eldest among them, a kind old man who had lost half of his left hand in a farming accident years ago. Silas could hear him fumbling with the papers Davin had forged. A special letter from Overlord Prezi verifying the cargo.

"Give me that."

The paper rustled again while the soldier unfolded it. Silas could see the hooves of the other soldier's destrier, trotting slowly along the line.
 

"The seal is missing," the soldier said.
 

"Wh.. What?" Oli's fear made his voice crack.

"I said the seal is missing, old man. What are you trying to pull?"

"We have a message from the rebellion," Oli said. "Silas is coming.
He's
going to die, and you're going to die with
him
."

Silas heard the sound of old swords being lifted from the front of the wagons. He held his breath and closed his eyes. "Too soon," he whispered.

Oli's scream followed a moment later, and the second soldier charged the nearest merchant. Another cry echoed in the night, and the two horses turned and raced away, back towards the mines.

"Where are they going?" Eryn asked. Her own voice was thick with fear.

"It's time." He reached over and twisted his wrist, pulling on the strap and causing it to drop them to the ground. They could see the merchants' feet shifting around the wagons while they tried to figure out what to do. "Eryn, save us."

She closed her eyes. "Obex," she whispered.
 

Heartbeats passed in tense silence. It appeared as though nothing was happening.
 

Then the world exploded around them.

 
It occurred in the space of one breath to another. The merchants shifted from foot to foot, uneasy, not knowing what to expect. The sky brightened as though it was daytime, and a rush of air blew leaves and bent the grass around them. Next came heat, unbelievable heat, and it poured down on the caravan like it had been dropped from the sky, igniting the wagons and their contents as no more than tinder, igniting the clothes the merchants wore and scattering them while they burned alive.

Silas and Eryn rested below the center wagon. The flames spread around them, but where they lay was cool and calm. Eryn's eyes were closed, her face peaceful and focused. He knew she wasn't aware of what was happening because she was so intent on holding back their enemy's power.
 

Forgive me for what I've done.

He had known how the soldiers would attack. He had known the Mediator would use his power against them; that's why he was there, after all. The perimeter guards of his mines knew the truth of the Mediators. They were the elite of
his
ranks, former Commanders who had grown too old to lead, but still held great value and esteem. It was the fate that would have awaited him, had he never learned the truth of Aren's death.

The merchants had also known. Davin told them they were walking to their death, but the promise of comfort for their families was all the reward they needed.
 

A dozen men, now charred and dead in a circle of ash.

The heat and flames vanished almost as quickly as they had risen. Silas reached over and squeezed Eryn's shoulder, hard enough to bring her from her trance. She took a deep breath in and opened her eyes. She saw the burnt devastation, and she looked to him for answers.

He held his finger to his lips. Hoofbeats again. Three horses now. They would come to ensure that everyone was dead. He reached up and grabbed the knife that had been stabbed into the bottom of the wagon and stuck it below his leg. Then he ran his fingers along the ground and wiped them on his face, smearing it with ash and dirt. Eryn watched, and then mimicked him.

"Have you ever seen anything like that?" one of the soldiers asked. The horses stopped at the front of the line, and all three riders dismounted.

"Suicide." This was a new voice. It had to be the Mediator. "Why would they do that?"

"They said Silas was coming. Do you think they were telling the truth?"

They started walking down the line.
 

"If he is, he's not here. He may be a liar, but from what I've heard he has a soft spot for mules like these. The so-called Hero of Elling wouldn't send a bunch of old peasants to their death."

They reached the wagon and stopped.

"These two tried to hide from it," the soldier said.
 

"Walston, I don't remember seeing a girl be-"

Before he could finish, there was a knife in his foot. On the opposite side of the wagon, Silas had thrown his own weapon, burying it deep into the other soldier's neck. He pushed himself out and to his feet, grabbing the hilt of the knife, wrenching it out and spinning in Eryn's direction. Her first attack had startled the soldier, but now he could see the crackling glow of blue energy arcing away from her hand and into his chest. He tumbled away, burning just as easily as the merchants had.

"Eryn!" Silas could hear the Mediator near the front of the charred caravan. He dove back under the wagon, rolling across at the same time a blast of flame raised a searing heat along his back. He saw a blue flash. He felt the second source of power. It was followed by the Mediator's screams.

He came up behind her, wasting no time leaning over into the wagon, pushing aside the ash and tattered remains of burlap sacks of grain. He found their ircidium blades at the bottom, undamaged, along with her wand. He also found a bow and a quiver of arrows, wrapped in leather and soaked in oils to help survive the flames.
 

"Come on," he said, handing Eryn her sword and wand. He belted the sword to his hip, slung the quiver over his back, and strung the bow as they ran towards the soldier's horses.
 

Hooves sounded out new enemies approaching, but the starry night wasn't bright enough to reveal them. Silas closed his eyes and tried to track the sound, notching an arrow to his bow and pulling back, ready to loose.