understood
nothing of how the magic was done. Frustrated but determined, I set my palm on
the earth at the center of the now dead circle. Uncertain exactly what I had to
do, I focused all my thoughts on the portal and the mental image of that other
forest, the Skeltai warriors, and the old shaman. I willed with all my strength
that the portal would open for me, concentrating on that desire until sweat
beaded on my forehead and trickled into my eyes.
A brief image flashed through my head of the cadaverous old
shaman watching me with his sightless eyes. A mocking chuckle interrupted the
stillness of my mind, its intrusion awakening that other subtler presence
clinging to the recesses of my thoughts. The bow didn’t like another entering
its domain. Neither did I. I was reminded of how the Praetor had once invaded
my mind, and the thought was enough to make me draw back and raise every mental
barrier Hadrian had taught me. The bow stirred to the forefront of my
consciousness to reinforce my walls and together we held them firm and waited.
Nothing happened. The enemy was gone.
Dradac cleared his throat. “Uh, Ilan, the portal in closed
now. You can’t get through.”
I had all but forgotten he and Ada were present. Now I
remembered suddenly that neither of my companions were aware of my magical
abilities, and that to them, my actions must appear confusing.
“Yes, of course it’s closed,” I agreed, scrambling to my
feet. “I just thought if I was quick enough—”
“Then you’d what?” Ada asked. “Crawl through after them and
emerge who knows where, outnumbered among enemies?”
“You’re right. It was stupid,” I admitted.
We were all startled then by a rustling from the bushes
nearby. We tensed, but it was only one of our own people pushing his way into
the clearing.
“The Hand wants everybody back at camp, preparing in case of
another attack,” he beckoned.
I thought a second attack unlikely, since the raiders had
already had themselves transported away, but I didn’t argue. An order was an
order.
I was unprepared for the chaos awaiting us back at camp.
Although we had fought off the Skeltai, the raid had taken a heavy toll. The
bodies of our outlaw brethren, together with the corpses of our enemies,
scattered the ground. Beneath the light from moon and stars, we worked to separate
the living from the dead.
I spent the remainder of the night helping Javen care for
the wounded, something I was becoming well practiced at of late. Even as I
worked at sponging wounds and binding bloody limbs, I was dimly aware of the
men outside clearing the ground of Skeltai corpses and digging trenches for the
dead. I wished I could be out there with them, because I was eager to search
through the dead and be sure none of my friends had perished in the attack. But
I was needed inside, and it was impossible to get away.
Nib was among those carried to me for treatment. I winced
when I pulled back the torn pieces of his tunic to examine the deep belly wound
he’d taken and was just as glad he was unconscious. He never woke again, but
slipped off into the deeper sleep of the dead sometime during the night. I
mourned him although we’d never been exactly friends. I couldn’t help
remembering how he had stuck by my side years ago when we’d worked together to
save Terrac’s life. He’d also been among the first to join the inner circle.
But I didn’t have long to dwell on the loss. There were so
many others who needed attention. Six outlaws would die of their injuries
before the night was over and several others looked as if they might follow in
the days to come.
Not until the sky was gray with the dawning of early morning
did I get an opportunity to step outside and view the extent of our losses.
There was a miserable bite to the air, so cold it burned the lungs to inhale.
The frosted ground crunched beneath my boots as I walked through the camp and a
stiff wind beat at my back. I didn’t mind the cold too
nothing of how the magic was done. Frustrated but determined, I set my palm on
the earth at the center of the now dead circle. Uncertain exactly what I had to
do, I focused all my thoughts on the portal and the mental image of that other
forest, the Skeltai warriors, and the old shaman. I willed with all my strength
that the portal would open for me, concentrating on that desire until sweat
beaded on my forehead and trickled into my eyes.
A brief image flashed through my head of the cadaverous old
shaman watching me with his sightless eyes. A mocking chuckle interrupted the
stillness of my mind, its intrusion awakening that other subtler presence
clinging to the recesses of my thoughts. The bow didn’t like another entering
its domain. Neither did I. I was reminded of how the Praetor had once invaded
my mind, and the thought was enough to make me draw back and raise every mental
barrier Hadrian had taught me. The bow stirred to the forefront of my
consciousness to reinforce my walls and together we held them firm and waited.
Nothing happened. The enemy was gone.
Dradac cleared his throat. “Uh, Ilan, the portal in closed
now. You can’t get through.”
I had all but forgotten he and Ada were present. Now I
remembered suddenly that neither of my companions were aware of my magical
abilities, and that to them, my actions must appear confusing.
“Yes, of course it’s closed,” I agreed, scrambling to my
feet. “I just thought if I was quick enough—”
“Then you’d what?” Ada asked. “Crawl through after them and
emerge who knows where, outnumbered among enemies?”
“You’re right. It was stupid,” I admitted.
We were all startled then by a rustling from the bushes
nearby. We tensed, but it was only one of our own people pushing his way into
the clearing.
“The Hand wants everybody back at camp, preparing in case of
another attack,” he beckoned.
I thought a second attack unlikely, since the raiders had
already had themselves transported away, but I didn’t argue. An order was an
order.
I was unprepared for the chaos awaiting us back at camp.
Although we had fought off the Skeltai, the raid had taken a heavy toll. The
bodies of our outlaw brethren, together with the corpses of our enemies,
scattered the ground. Beneath the light from moon and stars, we worked to separate
the living from the dead.
I spent the remainder of the night helping Javen care for
the wounded, something I was becoming well practiced at of late. Even as I
worked at sponging wounds and binding bloody limbs, I was dimly aware of the
men outside clearing the ground of Skeltai corpses and digging trenches for the
dead. I wished I could be out there with them, because I was eager to search
through the dead and be sure none of my friends had perished in the attack. But
I was needed inside, and it was impossible to get away.
Nib was among those carried to me for treatment. I winced
when I pulled back the torn pieces of his tunic to examine the deep belly wound
he’d taken and was just as glad he was unconscious. He never woke again, but
slipped off into the deeper sleep of the dead sometime during the night. I
mourned him although we’d never been exactly friends. I couldn’t help
remembering how he had stuck by my side years ago when we’d worked together to
save Terrac’s life. He’d also been among the first to join the inner circle.
But I didn’t have long to dwell on the loss. There were so
many others who needed attention. Six outlaws would die of their injuries
before the night was over and several others looked as if they might follow in
the days to come.
Not until the sky was gray with the dawning of early morning
did I get an opportunity to step outside and view the extent of our losses.
There was a miserable bite to the air, so cold it burned the lungs to inhale.
The frosted ground crunched beneath my boots as I walked through the camp and a
stiff wind beat at my back. I didn’t mind the cold too
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