Renegade's Magic
I saw the warrior menacing us react. He gripped his sword more tightly and leaned on it, as if hoping that the magic that held him back would give way for just an instant. Soldier’s Boy’s heart was pounding with effort. We both knew that if his shield of magic gave way, that sword would sink straight into his chest. Including Likari and Olikea in his sheltered space demanded a great deal of effort. I could feel the magic being consumed as his effort burned it away. He spared a quick glance for Kinrove.
With a greater reservoir of magic at his command, Kinrove was almost in control of the situation. With a pointing finger and a clenched-fist gesture, he’d forced his attacker to his knees. The man, his eyes dazed, seemed intent on trying to plunge his blade into the wooden floor of the pavilion. Soldier’s Boy shifted his gaze sideways. Jodoli and Firada were safe but under siege as we were. For her part, Dasie was using her strength to keep Kinrove’s warriors at a distance from her. Sweat stood out on her face. Four men, each bearing a large flint blade, had surrounded her. They pressed toward her but could not reach her. Her feeders had drawn knives of their own. They were back-to-back, outside her circle of safety and unhampered by it. Kinrove’s guard had chosen not to close with them. I read in that their inexperience. For too long, they had counted on the Great One’s magic to protect them all.
Despite the threat that menaced us, Soldier’s Boy’s eyes were drawn to watching her. Dasie trembled suddenly and I thought all her defenses would give way. Then she suddenly took a deep breath, threw back her head, and gave a wild cry as if she had thrown all her resources into one blow. Kinrove flinched, shook his head wildly, and then hung his head, panting. His hands fell to his side. One of Dasie’s feeders laughed aloud, a hoarse triumphant sound.
We heard wild cries of confusion outside, shouts of angry men and shrieks of terror. The flap of the pavilion was torn loose and six armed Specks raced in. Each bore one long sword and carried a second, shorter blade of iron. The motley collection of armor they wore would have been laughable, if not for the impact of the iron. The shock of the metal near stunned Soldier’s Boy. He felt as if the air in the place had been torn asunder by an explosion. A man with an iron sword swiftly replaced the fellow who had threatened us with a copper one, and handed his extra blade to the first man. He waved the weapon at us and I felt Soldier’s Boy’s magic shield literally fall to threads. In that instant, I expected to die, but the warrior merely rested the tip of the blade against my breast. That was enough. Just the presence of the metal made it hard for Soldier’s Boy to breathe.
Kinrove was pale and his lips puffed in and out with every breath he took. Not one but the tips of four iron blades touched his flesh. It was quickly apparent to me that all of his feeders and other hangers-on were accustomed to relying on his magic for defense. They gawked, stupefied, as if expecting that at any moment Kinrove would seize control of the situation. But, confronted with the iron blades that could end all his magic as well as his life and physically unable to defend his own person, he could barely sit up and was gasping in shock at his own predicament. His eyes darted wildly, taking in the situation, but he gave no orders. Perhaps he had no breath to spare.