He was less than two hundred cubits from the first line of patrollers, and the ground shivered. With that shivering, the chaos behind the white shields intensified. Kharl could sense chaos building everywhere-in the ground under him, in the air above him-and yet he was still not close enough to unbind chaos against the wizards.
But … if he unbound it against the patrollers …
He reached out and unlinked the order within the iron of the rifle of the patroller closest to him.
Currumpttt!!!
White-and-red chaos-flame flared back across the mounted patrollers, pressed by the shields Kharl threw up hastily. Those patrollers and mounts who were not turned into instant pillars of ashes flared like trees blackened in a firestorm-then toppled. Abruptly, the chaos-flare vanished, sucked into the swirling vortex of brilliance that rose around the three Hamorian wizards, a whirlwind of energy burning brighter than the sun, so bright that not a single figure remaining on the hillcrest cast a shadow, a pitiless searing light, with which nothing Kharl had ever seen or felt could have possibly compared.
Yet behind that vortex, protected as the other patrollers had not been, remained the enemy wizards-and Egen and his personal guard.
Egen-coward, betrayer of his own family, and destroyer of Kharl’s. Egen … protected by the chaos energy of the white wizards.
From somewhere deep within Kharl a cold rage began to build. They would not protect Egen!
A high whining sound began to build.
Kharl raised both an air shield and order shield directly in front of him.
The air itself vibrated, and the shrilling penetrated Kharl’s ears like sharpened needles. As it did, a line of white light flared from the shielded chaos toward Kharl. As that light lance struck the air shield, coruscating, strobing light exploded like cannon shells going off in all directions.
The well of white chaos that surrounded the three Hamorian wizards throbbed. The white vortex dimmed-but only for a moment. Then the ground shivered once more, and the shrilling began to build again.
Kharl kept riding, although he could sense that few remained riding with or behind him. He had to get close enough to reach Egen-and the chaos-wizards. He had to.
Now, he was on the flat of the hillcrest, and only a hundred cubits from the wizards and their linked shield … and the blindlingly brilliant chaos vortex that rose like an inverted triangle into the sky-and Egen!
As he neared the vortex, he struggled, through sweat and heat, and exhaustion, to rebuild his air shield and order shield. Exhausted as he was, he had to … just to get close enough to do what he could, what he had to do.
What could he do? The blinding lightsword he had never seen before, never even read about or thought about. Could he turn it against their shield?
The shrilling rose until he could hear it no longer, until his eyes were watering with agony from the unseen needles stabbing through his ears and into the depth of his skull … and still it rose. Kharl forced more order into the air shield, waiting, watching, trying to pick out Egen as well.
The lightsword flared toward him.
He tried to grasp it with order, and it was like trying to grasp smoke or fog. Yet it struck his shields so hard that he rattled back and forth in his saddle. Explosions of brilliance and light made the noon sun in summer seem as dark as night in the deepest cave that had never seen light.
Once more he was without shields, his defenses shredded.
The chaos-vortex dimmed more than the last time, but the ground shivered, and the vortex began to regain its brightness once again.
The gelding was barely walking forward, and Kharl was panting, breathing heavily. His face felt burned as if he had spent days in the sun without shade, and he knew much of his exposed skin was blistering. It was hard to keep his eyes open from the swelling around them.
What could he do?
The ground quivered once more.
Kharl tried to swallow, but his throat was so dry he nearly choked.
What … how?
He looked at the glowing chaos shields and the brilliant vortex rising once more like a hammer that was about to strike and smash him flat.
The ground trembled more strongly.
The ground?
With what felt like his last strength, Kharl reached toward the white wizards, not directly, but toward the chaos tap that extended deep within the very earth. There was the slightest chink, one of necessity, he felt, just beneath the earth, where one kind of chaos met another and was transformed.
Kharl did not try to change or force anything created by the chaos-wizards. Instead, he began to work on a simple red stone, one mostly of iron, to release the order bounds within that chunk of rock lying just between the two kinds of chaos-and directly beneath the wizards and Egen.
As those bounds dissolved in the iron-stone rock, Kharl drew back his order-probe and flung shields around himself and those just behind him, hoping that his party was all there.
The ground rumbled.
A firebolt flared toward Kharl, a fraction of an instant too late, exploding against his belatedly drawn shields.
Somewhere to the east, he could sense a handful of riders galloping southward from the Hamorian forces, trying to put part of the hill between themselves and the battle; but he would have to worry about them later, after dealing with the wizards.
Then …
A sound like iron being ripped apart, like the agony of a mother losing a child, knifed through Kharl.
The light of the great vortex was nothing compared to the flaring chaos-inferno that exploded skyward. As each chaos-wizard’s shieldfailed, the explosion lanced higher. Kharl shuddered in his saddle, hanging on with both hands as the gelding reared, screaming.
As the whitened redness of death flared around him, he knew, could sense, that none of those opposing him on the hill had survived.
A grim smile crossed Kharl’s face, if but for a moment.
Slowly, so slowly, it seemed, everything faded, and the afternoon sun returned, so dim by comparison that the sunlit afternoon looked like late twilight.
Kharl, Demyst, Jeka, Erdyl, and Alynar remained alone on a fire-scoured rise. The air was like a furnace, and fine ash drifted everywhere.
Kharl forced himself to turn the gelding, although he could see nothing, except through his order-senses. His face was aflame, and he felt as though every bit of skin had been blistered away.
“We need to get away.” His voice came from a great distance, it seemed to him, and patches of blackness appeared before his eyes, then vanished.
Deliberately, he rode southwest, picking a path down the hill away from the area where the scattered grass and brush still smoldered, down to where he could turn westward, then back toward Osten and his forces.
Before long, riders appeared, moving from the east. Kharl squinted. There had to be close to half a company, and all were wearing patroller uniforms-except for one figure in blue.
“Ser!” called Demyst.
The patrollers spurred their mounts toward Kharl and his small group. Several had their rifles out.
“Behind me!” Kharl ordered, hoping that Jeka, above all, was close enough for his shields, shields he only hoped he could hold long enough for Egen to approach more closely.
“Fire! Aim for the mage!” Egen’s voice carried across the ten-odd rods that separated the two groups.
Crack! Crack! …
Kharl rocked in the saddle at the force of the patroller’s volley, and he could feel his grasp on his shields slipping.
“Keep firing! He can’t hold on!” snapped Egen.
Kharl forced himself to reach out, to stretch for a bit of iron, sensing a small amount in Egen’s belt, and untwisting and releasing the order-bonds.