Of Gods and Warriors ✓

Chapter 33

"By the time those fools reach them, Karles will be done for." Farren shook off Rendarr's grip on her arm, "we haven't much time!"

This isn't a violation of the law of restriction, is it? Surely the Council would understand if magic was used to save a comrade's life?

Farren flung the first axe at Dion, at the man who had stood up for her many times. Who had defended her from Alastair. Who was liked and loved all around the camp.

All lies.

He wore a mask all this while, like the unfortunates of Silver Knife.

On went the axe, spinning through the air, but she missed. Not easy, hitting a moving target-- a damned assassin no less. But besides all that, she would be lying to herself if she didn't admit that her hand trembled, just a little bit.

The Death Ring was nearly finished now, not more than an arm's length left to enclose the ring.

"I said stop this!" Rendarr snatched at her arm, but Farren scurried away, taking aim again.

"Don't be reckless, Farren. Think about your family!" he shouted, as he had so many times before.

There it was again. Annoyance prickled in her at those words, the emotion as intense as its roots were unknown. Hadn't she surpassed recklessness itself so that she could see her family safe? Hadn't she ripped open her own soul so that she could be strong enough to protect them?

Yet why did the harmless, well-meant phrase irked her so?

Farren didn't know, nor was this time to find out either. She cast another sorcery-charged throwing axe toward Dion, even as Rendarr tackled her to the ground.

Missing the initial aim at the neck, the axe whirled through the air and sliced through his ankle.

Uttering a scream, Dion sank to his knees, and could not get up-- partly because of the wound, mostly because of the immobility spell rooting him to the spot.

The ground shook with a dull murmur.

The magic circle sizzled, then dissolved into the crisp air. Finally able to move, Karles reared back on his horse, and shot out of the waning boundary with a gallop. Dismounting, he strode to her side, breaths coming in labored sighs as the magical bindings came off.

"Rhilio's mercy, thank you," he said, taking Farren's hands in his trembling ones, "thought I was done for!"

Farren grinned in response. "Next time, you gotta count me in whatever mad plans you and your Valerie come up with."

"Yes..." His voice shook and wavered as he placed his hands over his heart. "Yes, I will."

✦✧✦✧

"Do not move, unless you wish to die a painful death," warned one of the Council Mages as his mount came to a halt right before Dion. His command was pointless, however.

Dion remained frozen on the spot, bound by magic and clutching his bleeding leg. And he could do no more than a scowl as the mage swung his staff through the air, the swift motions twisting into a complicated gesture of sophisticated sorcery Farren could not quite understand. Only thing she could grasp was that the man was an ice mage.

A soft crackle sounded, like a lake freezing over. The miniscule snowflakes riding the air condensed into two shackles around Dion's wrists-- heavy and iron-hard, and a length of chain, its links of sorcerous ice instead of metal, materialized between them. Staff hooked with the chains, the mage dragged him away across the trail. The soldiers did not let their guard down just yet.