Walk Through Fire by Joshua P. Simon Page B

contract. Some picked up on a few of the spells and tricks he taught them. Yet anything they learned was due more to their own efforts than his ability as a teacher. Most of what Krytien understood about sorcery he knew by feel. He often shunned the rigid guidelines Amcaro and the other High Mages of Cadonia touted. Only for a brief time did he receive any formal instruction, unheard of for a mage who wore the black robes.
    Krytien felt the power of Hezen’s mages grow as even more joined in support of their brethren—more than he had ever attempted to hold off. Tendrils of blue light sought their way through the invisible shield he had erected around much of the Hell Patrol’s position. He wondered how he would continue to last against such odds. A lesson from his old master, Philik, came to mind.
    “The only thing that can stop a mage is their imagination and their ability to push themselves. People see the different color robes and they see the experience and power of that individual. What I see are the barriers that individual still has left to bring down. You have shown the ability to break down those barriers more quickly than most.”
    Thinking on his former instructor’s words, Krytien opened himself up. He had only tried to access such power once before, and that had been in the presence of Philik. If not for his old master reigning him in, the result could have been disastrous.
    But I’m older now. Wiser. And I have no other choice.
    He reached into places he had not gone before to gain the power to push back against those who sought to do him and his friends harm. The sudden surge of power surprised him and he felt Hezen’s mages recoil, siphoning power away from their attacks to protect themselves. He had found them.
    Sweat dripped from his nose and onto his lips. His jaw clenched and his outstretched arms tensed as he worked to better control himself.
    One Above, Philik. You never prepared me for this. Just how much can one man access from the world?
    Glacar ran past Krytien, roaring, as his bloody ax clove a man in two, from shoulder to waist. The brute yanked the gore covered weapon free and set to work on another.
    Krytien searched for Ronav and saw him fighting against foes on all sides. Krytien marveled at how Ronav could will himself to continue on despite his weakened state.
    There is no reason why I cannot do the same. If I can hold out a bit longer, I’m certain Ronav will figure a way out of this.
    * * *
    Jonrell stumbled out of Kroke’s way lest he become an inadvertent victim in the killer’s furious assault. Something must have snapped inside of the man. Kroke had stared death in the face less than a minute before when Jonrell killed the man attacking him. Then at each other’s backs, they cleared away the rest of the squad trying to overwhelm the assassin. Washed in enough blood to scour him of the filth from the tunnel, Kroke fought like something out of a nightmare.
    Completely besieged in the narrow street, the Hell Patrol slayed Hezen’s men by the score. But unlike those they fought against, when one of the mercenaries died, an endless supply was not available to take their place. If not for the narrow streets and cluttered alleys, Hezen’s army would have already flanked their position and overrun them.
    Eventually reinforcements will arrive and they’ll figure out a way to surround us.
    Several injured were pulled free though Jonrell knew the effort wasted, entrails snaking out of open stomachs and blood sputtering from severed limbs.
    Krytien glowed to his right as tendrils of power maneuvered their way through the fog to reach out and ensnare him.
    One Above, how is he even standing under such an attack?
    Ronav and Glacar took up position next to Krytien, turning away men by the dozen.
    A familiar squeal cut through the sounds of battle and Jonrell spun. A small girl in black leathers crouched behind a mercenary ducking under a large shield, trying to protect himself and the