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She found a place that looked about as good a spot for her purpose as she was liable to find on short order. Besides, she didn’t have any time to spare. She set the lantern down in the center of the road, placing it so that the closed door aimed in the direction of the approaching men.
Magda didn’t want to consider the wisdom of her hasty plan too carefully because it was the only plan she had. She could think of no other idea, and besides, there simply was no time left. She had no choice but to try.
If it didn’t work, she would likely die. If she didn’t try, they were all going to die anyway.
She crouched behind the lantern, waiting. Her hammering heart was making her rock on the balls of her feet.
She briefly thought that she must be crazy to think it would work. She had no choice. Either it worked, or they were all dead anyway.
She could hear the sound of gravel crunching under the boots of the men coming her way as they rounded the bend a short distance down the hill. They weren’t talking any longer. She couldn’t see them. Only the sound of their boots told her where they were.
When she judged that the group of men was as close as she dared let them get to her, she threw open the door of the lantern. Light fell across about a dozen startled faces. They blinked in the sudden light. They weren’t the Home Guard. They wore the green tunics of Lothain’s private army, as she had expected.
Magda stood and backed a few steps behind the lantern so that she would be in darkness and the men wouldn’t be able to see her.
In the lantern light, when a couple of the big men spread out defensively, she spotted Merritt in their midst.
He had an iron collar around his neck, with a short iron bar coming out from the front of it. His hands were shackled to the end of the iron bar. His ankles were hobbled with a length of chain short enough to prevent him from running.
Blood ran down the side of his face. He looked groggy.
Magda focused her rage. It didn’t take an effort.
“You are surrounded,” she said in a loud, clear, commanding voice. “Let the prisoner go or you will all die.”
One of the men stepped forward. In the light coming from the open door of her lantern, she could see that he was not a soldier. He wore simple robes. She could see the deep scowl twisting his features. Even though it was dark, she thought that she could see the gift in his eyes.
When he lifted his hand and fire ignited in the air above his palm, Magda knew.
It was a wizard.
“Magda Searus?” he said. “Magda Searus, is that you?”
Chapter 85
The man in the robes was not half a dozen strides from her. Magda had seen him before. He worked in the lower regions of the Keep. She didn’t know the wizard’s name, but he knew hers. Most likely because when she had been with Baraccus he had stopped briefly to talk to the man a few times, as he had talked to a number of wizards. A lot of people knew her because she was Baraccus’s wife and they saw her with him, but she hadn’t known the names of all those people he spoke to.
“Let him go and your lives will be spared,” she said. “You are surrounded. Do as I say or you will all die. I’ll not warn you again.”
Worried, the soldiers peered around into the darkness.
There was a brief moment of silence, and then the grim-faced wizard spoke.
“I sense no one but you,” he said in a surly voice. “You are all alone out here. There is no one with you.”
In the lantern light she could see the soldiers grin.
Almost without thought, Magda slipped her hand inside her cloak, tightly wrapping her fingers around the hilt of the sword. The word Truth pressed into her palm. Through that connection, she could feel something stir and seem to come alive. It seemed to be coming neither from the sword nor from her, but came alive through that connection.
She felt the promise of something powerful and merciless in the connection.
Without warning, the wizard flicked his hand toward her. In the lantern light Magda could see the air waver.
The bolt of power just missed, flicking her hair as she dove aside and drew the sword.
The clear ring of its blade filled the night air with a haunting threat of violence.
With the blade freed, Magda felt a storm of power surge from the hilt and up through her. As it inundated her, it made her flesh tingle and took her breath.
Exquisite rage thundered through every fiber of her being.
The men all drew weapons.
The wizard, angry that he had missed, pulled his arms back to conjure yet more magic. He looked more annoyed than angry that she had not fallen to his first strike. She knew that this time he would not be so timid in what he called forth.
A roiling ball of fire ignited in his palm. The l
iquid flames rolled and burned with a sinister bluish light.
Indeed, he did not intend to take any more chances. He was intending to loose wizard’s fire against her.
Magda knew that she had to act fast or she would die. The sword reacted instantly to her intent, unleashing a surge of fury through her that charged her muscles.
Even as the wizard was cocking his arm back, Magda was already flying toward the man, closing the distance, trying to get to him before he was able to send the deadly fire toward her. As she ran, the blade swept around with lightning speed, whistling through the air.
Her glare was locked on the wizard’s murderous scowl. She was only dimly aware of the sword’s tremendous momentum. She knew only that it felt right. It felt good. She guided its track through her intent as the blade made its way inexorably toward where her eyes were fixed.
She wanted this man dead. She focused all her rage at everything that had happened into her need to end this traitor’s life.
It seemed to take forever to close the distance.
She could see the wizard frantically working with both hands to expand the wizard’s fire between his palms, to make it more deadly and ready to kill. She could see the indignation in his eyes that she would dare to come at him.
She intended far more than merely to come at him.
For both of them, it was a race to kill or be killed.
The blade won the race. With a loud crack it intercepted the side of the wizard’s skull.
Fragments of bone and gore filled the night. In the lantern’s light she could see the cloud of blood and brain matter explode away from where most of his head had been only an instant before. Only the base of his skull and his jaw remained. A trail of blood followed the arc of the blade.
