I called from ten steps away, “Without water, all of you will be dead by morning.”
The call didn’t change their stance or posture. None drew a weapon. Another slumped to the sand on his knees, and as he did, a second followed.
I picked out the officer by the gold piping on his uniform. If anything, he looked worse off than the others but refused to fall. Will and I walked closer.
“Are you in charge?” I asked.
He nodded.
“In the army of my kingdom, an officer cannot lie to his men. Is that the same here?”
He nodded again, slowly.
“I am here to offer you a deal. A way to escape death today.”
He looked at me imploringly, then nodded a third time.
His mouth was probably too dry to speak. I said, “I can give you water. Enough to revive you and get you back to the lake. All I ask is that you go back and leave us alone.”
Will said, loud enough for all to hear, “He is a mage and can make water. If you do not accept his water, you will die before sunrise. If you follow us again, he will strike you with a bolt of lightning that will turn you to charcoal. Do you all understand?”
I wanted to tell him that I could do that I wouldn’t do that with the lightning, not against people. But his reasoning in threatening them was sound. He whispered to me, “Make a show of filling their water.”
A show? Then I understood. I approached the nearest and threw my arms wide and mumbled nonsense, then concentrated enough water to shoot from the end of my finger in a thin stream and fall onto the sand where it darkened, turned a patch of sand darker as it puddled, sank in, then began evaporating.
The nearest soldier stumbled closer, his water jug held out in front of him. I filled it and moved on to the next and next. Will and I went to the ones who had fallen. One was dead. The other sucked his jug dry so fast I had to refill it on the spot. We went to the group that had lagged behind the others and filled theirs, then refilled them before returning to the main group.
I went to the officer and asked, “Are you going to follow us?”
The water had already brought new life into him. He stood tall and said, “You have my word. Besides, every man here owes you his life and I hold that debt seriously. If we ever meet on the battlefield, I will throw down my weapons.”
I liked the sound of that. Too bad I couldn’t do the same with the entire army. When those near him repeated the oath, it sounded even better. I topped off a few jugs and caught Will’s eye. The late afternoon sun glinted from his eyes as if he’d been crying. But Will was a retired soldier and far too jaded for that. The redness around his eyes was probably a sunburn and not due to wiping the tears away.
Neither of us looked back to see if they followed. We didn’t need to.
We caught up with our group well before dark, but not before the searing heat of the day turned to a comfortable warm. We greeted them, I refilled the jars, and we kept walking even after the sun set and the temperature turned chilly. Without wood to burn, we’d be colder as soon as we stopped walking.
I could generate a little warmth, enough for myself, and one or two others, but not the whole group. There might be a way, but I didn’t know it and didn’t trust myself to try. As fatigued as my mind was, I might set them all on fire.
By morning, we’d shiver. Knowing what was to come kept us trudging along well into the night. There was nothing to slow us, no hills, valleys, gorges, or anything else. In the starlight, the ground ahead was clear, flat, and uneventful. Walking was easier than slowing and being cold.
Will said we should have taken clothing from the soldiers. I objected but knew he was right. It was another missed opportunity.
Kendra asked me, “Can you make it rain with warm water?”
“Maybe. Then what? We’d be wet and standing in cold air.”
“I was thinking that you could keep it up. I mean, raining all night.”
It seemed plausible. Then it didn’t. I said, “I could try, but if I can’t do it, we spend a wet, cold night.”
“You’re right. It was just a thought,” she said as she fell into step with me. Her arms were hugging her chest to fight off the cold. “Can you make it warmer with the wind?”
“Where would I draw the heat from?”
She said, “I don’t know what that means.”
“This is as new to me as it is to you, but from what little I’ve heard, magic is not free.”
She snorted. “I know it comes from essence from dragons as well as you.”
“That’s not exactly true, Kendra. Magic draws from one resource and puts it somewhere else. I draw water from leaves, underground, the air, and then concentrate it in one place. Essence gives me the power to do that.”
She walked for a while and finally said, “I’m beginning to understand. I’ve had it wrong all this time. It’s like food provides the fuel to run but food does not make you run. No, that’s a stupid comparison.”
“Not really,” I told her. “It gets the idea across. It’s why a dragon or Wyvern is needed.”
Kendra pouted. “If we had a Waystone, we could just jump through the air to Ander.”
“I don’t know how to use them. For all I know, there will be a hundred mages waiting for us in Ander.” I regretted the words as they spilled from my mouth as if they had a life of their own.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The night was even colder than expected. Once we began shivering, it didn’t stop. We huddled in a tight row of bodies, none of us cared who was beside us because anywhere we touched there was warmth. I had Will on one side, which was good. Anna was on my other side. She was so slight she didn’t seem to have any warmth to share, yet she sucked mine away.
I drew heat from the inside of rocks and boulders, but it dissipated as soon as released. I couldn’t think of a way to contain it, like under a blanket.
Anna didn’t really steal my heat, but it was what I thought about from midnight to dawn when I couldn’t sleep because of the cold. Worse, while in that fog of sleep where I was not awake, nor asleep, tendrils of thought not my own crept around in my head.
Not dreams. Not nightmares. Vague probes of mental energy swirled softly near me, never touching or demanding. It was like a swarm of gnats so small they were hard to see. Now and then one lightly landed on my neck, leg, or arm.
But they were more than feelings. They were mental triggers. With the gentlest of touches, my thoughts shifted to other subjects. After the probing touch of one, a childhood memory of falling from a tree while trying to steal apples returned. I hadn’t thought of that incident in years. Another brought forth the memory of a girl my age who had flirted with me.
The events were disconnected, and minor, but also things are drawn from deep memories as if triggered. That was the right word to describe it. The light mental touches brought them to the surface.
Anna moaned. I assumed it was from the cold but when I turned to examine her face in the starlight, her eyes were wide open. I sensed the shivering was not from the cold.
She whispered fiercely, “Was that you?”
“Me?”
“Inside my head. Just now. Was that you? We had an agreement we wouldn’t do that to each other without permission.” Her tone hardened, and her body stiffened as she pulled away from me, so we were not touching as if I’d violated a trust.
I whispered back so we didn’t wake the others. “Inside me too. I recalled things from my past.”