“All right,” the prince said. “I hope you are quick to adapt because I am adding lines to your speech. I do not want to have to deal with horses and mages in one big tangle. That will make it almost impossible for our archers. Your task is to get the mages to dismount before approaching the trap zone. Can you do that?”
It was the fairy’s turn to hesitate, but he eventually nodded affirmatively. “The priests are not fond of horses. Or should I say that horses fear the priests? Either way, I can do it.”
“Then do it,” Prince Garong said in a whisper. “I hear them approaching.”
The fairy did not take the time to respond. Sprout shot off of the elf’s shoulder and up into the trees. A moment later the image of K’san appeared in the failing light. Prince Garong faded into the trees and passed the word that the mission had changed.
Morgora saw K’san and he altered his path towards the priest. The demonkin suddenly raised a hand to halt the mages.
“Dismount,” the priest said simply.
Morgora immediately complied, but not all of the black-cloaks did.
“Why are we dismounting?” frowned one of the mages. “I don’t like this.”
“Dismount,” repeated the demonkin.
“Get off your horses,” Morgora scowled quietly. “For horses, his aura is worse than our Spell of Fear. Shield yourselves if you think that a demonkin would harm you.”
“I’ve been shielded since leaving the camp,” retorted one of the black-cloaks, “and it has nothing to do with K’san. We are in enemy territory. Only a fool would travel unprotected.”
The eight battle mages dismounted and walked forward to meet with K’san. Each of them was curious about the purpose of the clandestine meeting, and more than one of them was suspicious. When the mages had covered twenty paces of the way to the priest, K’san held up his hand again. The mages halted.
“What game is he playing at?” scowled one of the mages. “I am of half a mind to turn and leave. We are not under the direction of a priest on this mission. We serve General Fortella.”
“Perhaps we are about to be advised differently,” suggested another mage.
Suddenly, bowstrings sang through the forest, and K’san instantly disappeared.
“Trap!” shouted Morgora. “Shields up!”
There was no time for erecting shields. Three of the black-cloaks fell immediately, Morgora being one of them. The other five black-cloaks had already protected themselves with physical shields, and they immediately fell back on their training, their eyes scanning the forest for targets. This was the moment that Rhula had feared when she argued with her brother, but she had not known about the backup plan then. Loud cracks split the forest in four different directions. The mages zeroed in on the sounds and prepared to shower the area with offensive spells, but they never got the chance. The sharp cracks had been the severing of the tie downs for a large net. The netting sprang up from under the debris on the forest floor and rose quickly towards the canopy. As the mages were jumbled together in the swiftly rising trap, more arrows shot through the trees. Unlike the prior arrows that had bounced off the invisible shields, these new arrows struck flesh as the mages momentarily lost their focus on the protection spells. Before the net reached its zenith, the black-cloaks were all dead.
The Elderal elves quickly verified the kills and prepared to abandon the area in case a Federation patrol came searching for the missing mages. Princess Rhula pulled her brother aside and silently hugged him.
“You always surprise me,” she said softly as she broke the embrace. “What made you think they would be vulnerable?”
“While I was in Tagaret, I spent some time with an elven mage from Glendor,” answered Prince Garong. “One of the things Galdan told me was that a battle mage always needs his concentration. If you can disrupt him severely enough, he will lose his shields, but only for a second. Shields are almost instinctive for battle mages, and they can quickly construct them within a second, but it does leave a tiny window of opportunity open for attack.”
Chapter 22
Unnatural Emotions
Queen Tanya bent over the corporal and examined him again. She frowned heavily and slowly shook her head. The corporal looked up at her, adoration in his eyes.
“You don’t have to worry about me, Queen Tanya. I am feeling much better now. Spend your energy on those less fortunate.”
A smile formed on the queen’s lips as she shifted her glance to the corporal’s face. “I have already made two rounds of the entire infirmary, Corporal, and I will continue to do so until I am called away. You appear to be much healthier than you were a couple of hours ago when they brought you in.”
“I felt like I was dying then,” the young corporal admitted, “but whatever you did to me, it has worked like a miracle. I feel just fine now. I can return to my duties if you will dismiss me.”
A loud commotion caught the queen’s attention, and she turned towards the main door of the infirmary. Two guards burst into the room, one holding the door open while the other looked around for an empty bed. Immediately following the two guards were two more guards, and they were dragging a sergeant between them. Unlike the other patients in the infirmary, the sergeant had bloodstains on his uniform. The queen watched as the guards dragged the sergeant to an empty bed and chained him to it. With a sense of urgency she returned her gaze to the young corporal.
“I want you to stay here for a while, Corporal. If you are still feeling well on my next round, I will have you dismissed.”
The queen did not wait for a response. She hurried across the floor to speak to the guards before they left.
“What is going on here?” asked the queen.
“It’s Sergeant Skyler, Queen Tanya,” answered one of the guards. “He’s got a bad case of whatever is going around.”
“You mean the plague?” asked the queen. “That would hardly account for the bloodstains.”
“Aye, he has the plague,” answered one of the guards, “but he has the other affliction as well. He attacked Colonel Borowski with a knife.”
“He just isn’t in his right mind,” added another guard. “I’ve known the sergeant for a long time and he worships the colonel. I can’t make any sense out of it.”
“I saw it with my own eyes,” declared a third guard. “It was a clumsy attack, and he didn’t count on the colonel being as good as he is. He’s pretty fast for a colonel.”
“The king and I have great respect for Colonel Borowski,” stated the queen. “If we didn’t think he could handle himself well, he wouldn’t be in charge of the army. What were your orders regarding Sergeant Skyler?”
“We were to bring him here for the healers to mend before taking him to the dungeon. Two of us are to stay with him at all times.”
The queen nodded silently as she moved around the bed to examine the patient. The bloodstains were coming from a single deep gash on the sergeant’s forearm. Tanya suspected that it was the sergeant’s knife hand and that the colonel had slashed out to force the attacker to drop his knife. Apparently it had worked.
“Get his tunic off,” ordered the queen, “and for goodness sakes, remove his boots. We have other patients needing these beds, and we can’t be changing the linens after each one. Try not to splatter his blood around, either. I will be right back.”
The queen quickly completed her round and returned to the new patient. Two of the guards had disappeared, and the other two were talking to a neighboring patient. The queen first healed the knife wound and then turned her attention to the plague. Without knowing the precise nature of the plague, all she could do was to call forth a generic healing spell. That spell appeared to be working wonders with the other patients, but the queen was not entirely sure why, and that bothered her. She wished that Zalaharic would hurry his return to Tagaret.