Tests of Blood - 16. Chapter 16

“See, I told you that everything would be fine.” Lee told Dalen who had woken two hours before dawn, looking southward in a state of near panic. They were now approaching the farm, the Alsense farm, and everything looked normal. Sure, there weren’t any people in the fields, but the sun was barely over the horizon. Several girls were feeding the chickens, and it was easy to see boys and younger men going about what were likely their morning chores.

“Do you want us to continue scouting southward, Lieutenant?” Sergeant Mitchum asked when they were a short distance from the farm. They were close enough now that they could smell the breakfast being cooked in the house, along with fresh-baked bread. It was also obvious they had been spotted from the bustle of activity and the appearance of several more men out of the sprawling main house.

Well, it was a communal house that could comfortably fit a good thirty or forty people in the various families.

“Your highness?” Lee asked Dalen, obviously deferring the question to Dalen, who frowned. He couldn’t help but frown because the mere thought of sending the troops further south, or even one scout further out made his stomach do a slow, queasy roll. Everything looked normal, but he couldn’t help feel fear and pure terror from somewhere. Even the ground was recoiling as if recently struck with something it didn’t like, and was now shouting a warning to anyone who could listen.

“No, no scouts.” Dalen said through gritted teeth. Moana shifted restlessly under him as she sensed his tension and he tried to relax. Why the hell did he feel so edgy when everything looked so damn normal? “In fact, Lieutenant, deploy your troops as if we were expecting an attack.”

“From which direction?” Lee asked.

“The farm.” Dalen spoke without even thinking and blinked in surprised at his own words.

“You have to be joking, my lord.” Lackley said with a chuckle, somehow making the last part of his sentence sound like an insult. “Are you just reacting badly because we’ve gone for three days and not found any hint of trouble?”

“Look, Bard, I don’t expect you to adhere to discipline, but don’t insult me.” Dalen snapped at the handsome Bard. He was getting more and more irritable the longer they stood here. Now, even the Bard was acting oddly. “Lieutenant, you and four troops will come with me. The Bard can come too if he wants.”

“Thank you so much, your highness.” Lackley said, again in an insulting tone even as Lee pointed out five soldiers to come with them. Then he gave quiet orders to the sergeant for how to deploy the rest of the mounted soldiers.

“Did you get enough to eat last night, my lord?” Corporal Talen asked as he pushed his mount between Dalen and the Bard. It was obvious what he was doing, but neither man complained.

“Yes, you did your usual good job with the stew.” Dalen said as he urged his own mount forward. Moana seemed happy to be moving in any direction.

“I’ve thought about what I’m going to do after my enlistment is up.” Talen said cheerfully as they moved towards the farm where several adult men were now walking towards the gate in the post fence that surrounded the six buildings that comprised the farm itself.

“Oh, is that soon?” Dalen asked with forced interest. The Corporal was obviously doing his best to defuse tensions between Dalen and the Bard, and surprisingly enough it was working.

“In about six months.” Talen said with a smile.

“You could always reenlist.” Lee said as he moved his mount up to the other side of Dalen. “You’ll make sergeant easily if you choose to stay with the Guards. I told you that I would be happy to give you the recommendation. You’re a good soldier.”

“I’ve been lucky, Lieutenant.” Talen said with a shrug. “I don’t feel like pushing that luck with another tour of duty.”

“Well, we all have to make our own choices in life.” Lee said with a nod in the direction of the young man. “I just hope you don’t regret yours.”

“I doubt that, sir.” Talen said with a smile. “I’ve been thinking I really do enjoy cooking so I think I might want to try a hand at that as a career.”

“When your enlistment ends, look me up, Corporal.” Dalen said with a smile as he realized the Corporal had succeeded in distracting him, and that he was feeling more relaxed by the friendly banter. “Dell was saying how the Heraldic Collegium would need some new cooks in the next year. It seems a few of their cooks are getting on in years and will be retiring sooner or later.”

“Now that would be a good place to work.” Lee laughed and Dalen was smiling as they approached the farm’s main gate, and the three men that were waiting there for them. All three looked like typical Holderkin with their long beards, except the one to Dalen’s right had blond hair and a blond beard.

“What brings Valdemar Guards out this way?” The man in the center asked in a rough tone and Dalen felt his unease stir. Today he was wearing his Mage brown tunic with tough black jeans and knee-high boots. His sword was belted at his waist, and he’d transferred most of his mage supplies to one of the pack horses so Moana wasn’t overly burdened.

“We’re hunting some mercenaries that were spotted in this area, Goodman.” Lee said as he dismounted. Dalen and the Bard also dismounted and approached the three men, still talking over the chest-high wood gate that no one made a move to open.

“One of the boys spotted horsemen moving off to the west last night.” The blond man said with a touch of nervousness in his voice. “Might that be them? No one’s warned us of mercenaries in the area. Are they hostile?”

“They are very hostile.” Lee said. “I should introduce you to Prince Dalen Ashkevron. He is commanding this mission.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, sir.” Dalen said as he stepped forward and held out his hand at chest level. He was faintly surprised the man just frowned at it and didn’t take his hand.

“We have no business with magic users and the like.” The man in the center said gruffly. Dalen assumed this was Alsense, who headed this farmstead. “If those mercenaries come here, well they’ll find that farm folk aren’t necessarily easy pickings.”

“They may have a mage with them.” Dalen argued as he put his hand back at his side instead of leaving it out when it was obvious the man was not going to take in a gesture of friendship.

“Then the more fool are they.” The man in the center said acidly.

“The men your boys saw, which direction were they heading?” Lee asked as he stepped forward.

“South.” The man said and Lee turned to lean into Dalen.

“They must have felt your gate and turned tail.” Lee whispered. “They might be afraid of someone that can create a gate.”

“That’s possible.” Dalen said, but he was feeling fear even more intensely, but now there was an added feeling to it, a slight glimmer of fading hope. That was when he realized that these feelings were not coming from inside him at all, but from outside.

He had Empathy, the Gift that allowed one to sense and in some cases influence the emotions of others. His Empathy wasn’t strong enough to influence the emotions of others, but he was strong enough, and trained in sharing his emotions with others and in using his Gift to feel what others were feeling. Normally he kept his Empathy tightly shielded, because sharp emotions would disrupt his concentration in spell-casting.

Now that he knew the emotions he was feeling were coming from the outside, things began to make even more sense. Lackley had the Bardic gift, and it was enough like Empathy that he was probably being affected without even realizing it, which would be why Dalen and he were snapping at each other. The barest thinning of his shields only confirmed that there was something wrong, very wrong, at this farm.

“If they’re heading south, we need to hurry and catch them.” Dalen said aloud and he looked at the three men. “I thank you good men for your time and your warnings. Oh, and Goodman Balder said that I should give his blessings to his marriage son.”

“How is my father-in-law?” The blond man said after a moment, and after the man in the center nodded his approval.

“He is doing fine, but he wonders when he will see his grandson Bart again.”

“I’ll have to tell Bart that.” The man said with a nod of his head. “He was disappointed the last time we left his grandfather’s farm. I think he likes it better there than here.”

“Well, hopefully you’ll be able to spend all winter there like you did last year.” Dalen said cautiously. “Travelling in winter can be very dangerous.”

“Yes, it can.” The man said and there was quality to his voice that suggested warning, and a spike of hope in the emotions from around them. There was also a strong whiff of caution and suspicion.

“Thank you for your time.” Dalen said to the man in the center, along with a slight bow of his head. “We will be heading south now without bothering you further.”

“Good traveling.” The man in the center said brusquely and Dalen turned on his heel and started walking back towards Moana. Lee was next to him, as was the Bard.

“I don’t think…” Lackley started to say but Dalen cut him off.

“Lee, something is wrong here.” Dalen whispered. “We’re going to make it look like we’re…”

A momentary surge of emotion was all the warning Dalen had, but it was enough, if only barely. When he felt the surge of pure fear, he reacted by expanding his core energies into a basic shield that covered the roadway between him and the gate of the farm. The shield was set for magical as well as conventional attacks, and it stopped the three crossbow bolts that had been fired from the second floor of the farmhouse. All of a sudden, the air practically shimmered, and as they spun around both Lackley and Lee gasped.

The illusions over the farm had been subtle, and that was probably why Dalen had not felt the magic of them. The gate was real enough, even if it only hung on one hinge and had been splintered. All the buildings bore some marks of fighting, and instead of boys and farmhands going about the normal chores of a farm, there were armed men standing with weapons at the ready. Even as Dalen gathered himself together, reaching out for the node that was still just within his reach, he noticed the blond man ducking and running for cover while more armed fighters began pouring out of every building in the farm yard.

“Well, I guess that is that.” The man who had spoken earlier spoke again even as he himself shimmered. Now he was younger, and didn’t have a beard at all. His skin was copper-toned, and while not exactly muscular, he was stocky and a good head shorter than Dalen. His appearance was that of someone just entering their thirties, and he had a large, black mustache that he smoothed out as he regarded Dalen. “I don’t suppose we can expect you to go and chase south after us?”

“No.” Dalen said, hoping there was some way to talk this through, but the man just shook his head.

That was the only gesture of warning that he gave before launching bolts of power at Dalen’s shield wall. Dalen reacted by reinforcing his own shields even as Lee and the Bard scrambled for their horses. They knew that they had no place being near a mage-duel.

No sane person stood around two mages that were dueling, as Dalen was with the blood-mage now. His shield wall collapsed, but by the time the man had readied another round of bolts, Dalen’s personal shields were set and he was moving to the attack, blasting the farm gate off its hinge with a burst of wind. The wood fragments became deadly missiles, most of them bouncing off the mage’s shield, but several slivers found a target in the man still standing to the mage’s other side and the man’s body jerked several times before collapsing to the ground.

“Prince Dalen, we meet at last.” The strange mage said as he stepped over the body of the dead man and chaos erupted around them. The Valdemaran Guards had seen the beginning of the attack, and were moving forward under the direction of their sergeants. Lee was galloping his horse towards them even as several firearms blasted their lead projectiles after him. More arrows flew after them as well, but a wide berth was being given to Dalen and the other mage.

“I would say it is a pleasure, but then the only pleasure I’ll have today is when you’re dead.” Dalen retorted hotly. They must have attacked the farm sometime last night, after he’d finished scrying and before this morning. Maybe even when he felt the surge of alarm just before dawn.

“I figured it was you who Gated into the area.” The mage said as he continued stepping backwards. Dalen had to follow him, inside the Gate and felt a warning tingle. He had just enough Foresight that it could warn him seconds before danger happened.

Blood-red lines of force reached up through the ground he stood on and seized Dalen’s ankles, freezing him in place. Somehow they came right through his shields. They didn’t tear his shields, they just acted as if the shields weren’t there. Dalen tried to move his feet, but they were held firmly in place.

“Ah, I see my preparations worked.” The mage smiled and with a flick of his hand, Dalen’s shields were ripped asunder and he found himself unprotected.

“How?” Dalen asked in surprise as the blood-power wound around his legs. Where they touched him, his body was going numb.

“I learned a lot about you, Prince Dalen, after you managed to fry poor Galor.” The mage said with a smile even as Lee’s troops began to clash with the mercenaries pouring out of the farm. “You have the earth-sense. That is how you have been able to track us, of course. The earth is so easily pained by our magic.”

“What are you after?” Dalen growled.

“Many things, my dear Prince.” The man said with a smile as he approached Dalen, who was almost whimpering as more and more of his body went numb. “You, well you will bring a heavy price from the emissaries of the Haighlei priests. They want all mages under their control, eventually. If you’re smart enough to give them lip service, they will accept that and give a great deal of assistance.”

“Why Valdemar?” Dalen asked as his teeth began chattering. Part of it was from fear, both internal and external. He’d never felt so defenseless. Around him the fighting was picking up in intensity as firearms were used, and thrown to the ground in favor or swords, axes, and other weapons. He could no longer turn his head, but he knew that the Valdemaran troops were taking heavy losses already. The enemy had the stronger position here.

“Not so much Valdemar, my Prince, as these farmlands.” The man said as he walked around Dalen, as if inspecting him. When he moved back into Dalen’s eyesight, he had lifted his hand and was shooting mage-bolts at targets Dalen couldn’t see. “Pesky men, these soldiers of yours. Oh, and some females too. I do need to make sure some of them live. They will make good sources of power.”

“Please.” Dalen begged and the man laughed before looking back at him.

“Oh, don’t worry, Prince Dalen, you won’t be killed.” The man chuckled. “The question is going to be if Lord Farvenal chooses to turn you over to the Black Kings or to make you his latest work of art. He is quite good at taking nice young men like you and twisting them to do his bidding. Why, take a look at poor Galor. He was the nephew of Menmillith’s last King, you know. It took Lord Farvenal all of a fortnight to break him and remake the boy in his own image. I believe Farvenal was quite proud of him when Galor killed his uncle.”

“I’ll never let myself be broken.” Dalen shouted through clenched teeth as he realized that the tide was shifting in the fight around them. Several young men, and a few older ones as well were joining in the fighting, using farm implements to hack at the mercenary soldiers from behind. Included in the fighting were two familiar blond heads, both armed with pitchforks.

“Ah, tis too bad.” The mage said as he too noticed the farmers joining in the fighting. “I sacrificed some good healthy specimens this morning to ensure they would be under control. It is too bad their blood will have to be spilled now, but I needed the power to take you, my dear boy. Oh well. We will find farmers for this land. That is the bad thing about taking Menmillith, even if it was an easier choice than Rethwellan or Karse, much less Valdemar. Its farmlands are not nearly as productive, but the Haighlei have promised us a good part of these lands if we cooperated, and I’d say we’ve done that very well, wouldn’t you?”

“Not really.” Dalen grunted as he concentrated. The lines of power holding him in place had reached his chest now, and he could feel nothing below his shoulders, but this blood-mage had made a big mistake taking him this way. His mage gift was blocked through his connection to the earth, but not his other gifts. Farsight and Foresight were not gifts that could be used in combat. His Empathy and Firestarting were far too weak to do anything against the mage, and while his Mindspeech was strong enough to try a mind-blast, it was very likely the mage had shields against that move.

The man’s shields did try to struggle against what Dalen was attempting. It wasn’t something he’d ever practiced, and it was only a comment made by a cousin at Forst Reach in jest that gave him the idea to try it at all. Almost he gave up, until he remembered that the man must of have sacrificed several innocent people to draw enough blood-magic to do what he’d done to Dalen. That gave him the boost of strength he needed, and his gift of Fetching breached the other mage’s shields.

Dalen had been thirteen when he’d studied under Forst Reach’s healer. His own gift of Healing was quite small, but the Healer had insisted that part of Dalen’s studies include learning to use his Healing Gift to its fullest. Even a small bit of Healing could mean the difference between life and death, as Dalen learned when Lady Faustina had suffered a mild stroke while visiting her sister, Lord Ashkevron’s wife.

Dalen had assisted the Healer in clearing the woman’s blocked arteries with Healing and power supplied by Dalen’s mage gift. From that experience, he’d learned what the inside of a human body was like, and it helped him now, as he used experience learned from Healing to kill. The woman’s arteries had been blocked by fatty tissues, and it had taken Dalen and the Healer hours to clear the blockage out before it killed her.

Now, it took Dalen just seconds to take dirt, ordinary dirt, from the ground and with his Gift of Fetching, place it inside the main artery of the mage. The dirt formed a blockage as certain as any natural blockage, and the mage clutched his chest before falling to his knees. Whatever magic he was going to try, failed before he could complete it, and the spell holding Dalen in place collapsed along with the mage that had cast it.

The mage had used his sacrifices to bond the very land to him and to his will. That was how he had trapped Dalen so effortlessly, even though Dalen was the more powerful mage. Dalen had Earth-sight, and combined with his Mage-gift, it was an opening the blood-mage had used. It had taken him sacrificing men who had worked this soil as farmers for most of their lives, but it had worked.

As the man died, the land itself recoiled in horror at what it had been forced to do, and Dalen collapsed to his knees just a foot away from the blood mage. He felt dirty, and weak even as every nerve in his body tingled with the flood of returning sensations. His stomach emptied itself onto the ground, and he began to retch with dry heaves even as he lost control of his bodily functions in aftershock.

Dalen did not notice the mercenary who observed the mage dying and Dalen collapsing. Even as Dalen fell to the ground while retching, the man raised his cocked crossbow and took careful aim. He knew Dalen was a mage, and that once Dalen had recovered from his after-reaction to the blood-magic, the man knew Dalen would use his magic to overcome the mercenaries.

Dalen may not have noticed the man, but others on the battlefield did, including Corporal Talen. The young man had one loaded pistol that he had not fired, and although he was in the middle of a sword fight with another mercenary, he used his free hand to pull out the pistol and take careful aim. If the mercenary he had been fighting hadn’t taken advantage of his distraction and run him through with a sword, Talen might have been able to save the Prince. As it was, his shot nicked the crossbowman’s arm instead of hitting him in the chest.

As he died, Talen was rewarded with the sight of the crossbowman’s arrow going wide, just missing Dalen by a hand’s breadth.

For his part, the mercenary crossbowman knew he was lucky that he hadn’t died, but he also knew that if he didn’t kill the young mage soon, he wouldn’t live long enough to collect his next paycheck. Fortunately for him, he wasn’t dependent on his crossbow to hit his target from a distance. He had already fired his pistol, but he also carried throwing knives in his boot tops, and now he reached down for one of them.

Dalen had recovered some at that point, and lifted his head in time to see the danger of the mercenary with a throwing knife in his hand. While he recovered enough to see the danger he was in, the truth was he was far too weak to do anything about the danger. He was on his hands and knees, and the best he could do was to drop to the ground, landing in his own bile. His eyes were on the mercenary though, and if he’d had the strength he would have groaned as the mercenary adjusted his aim.

There was an equine scream of rage though, and Dalen knew that the time had come at last. Silver hooves flashed in the morning light as a Companion reared on his hind legs and smashed the mercenary’s head with his fore hooves. The Companion danced aside to avoid the bloody mess of the mercenary’s body as it slid to the ground. When his eyes met the Companion’s Dalen knew all his running from being Chosen had been in vain.

You vain idiot. The stallion’s voice rang in his head at the same time that it seemed to steady him. It was like having gentle but strong hands lift his mind to its ‘feet’ and steady him. He felt the world returning to its steady feeling instead of spinning, and he felt like he’d recovered his balance. I’m not here for you, but you’re welcome for saving your life.

Uh, thanks, I guess. Dalen replied to the stallion, biting back the distant feeling of disappointment. Really, why should he be disappointed that he’d been lucky enough to escape being Chosen? Still, part of him did feel disappointed that he wouldn’t have a Companion around to bash in some man’s head when he needed the help.

Dalen’s hand rose up and a bolt of power reached out to strike the mercenary that was about to bury his axe in the unprotected back of a young farmer. Dalen recognized the blond head as belonging to Blake, the grandson of Goodman Balder only after he’d felled the mercenary about to kill him.

The Companion had been racing towards the boy and his father when Dalen had struck their unseen attacker down. The Companion paused in his charge and turned to look back at Dalen. Thanks he sent to Dalen before going forward and locking eyes with the blond kid. For his part, Dalen turned to the battle raging around him and began to throw magic at the mercenaries.

The earth itself was still screaming for vengeance over the way it had been used. The mage who had done it was now dead, but these mercenaries had supported him, had picked out the farmers that had been killed in the blood sacrifice. Dalen didn’t know how he knew, and he didn’t pause to think about it either. The earth itself was telling him this, and demanding its own version of justice.

Dalen was only too happy to deal out the earth’s justice as he blasted around him with mage bolts, lightning, fire, and ice. As he moved through the farmyard, the fighting sputtered and died until only a handful of mercenaries were left, all holed up in what looked like a smoking shed for the preparation of dried and smoked meat. The mercenaries inside had time to reload their firearms and fired at Dalen as he approached their building. They had nowhere to go, and the earth itself was crying out for its last bit of vengeance to cleanse it of the evil blood magic.

“We surrender!” One of the men inside shouted, but there was the sound of sword penetrating flesh, and the last gurgling of a man who has been run through. Dalen’s mind blanked at that, and power roared out of him in the form of fire. There was no chance for the men inside the building as it burst into intense flame of dark blues and yellows. Their screams were cut off as the building collapsed on them within moments of the intense fire.

“Dear Lord and Lady.” Lackley murmured as he stared at the unnatural flames consuming every bit of the building and the men that had been inside. The earth was happy, but crying out for more of the cleansing fire. Men feared fire, but the earth knew it was part of the natural order, and that it purified soil, and prepared it for the next growing season. There were trees in the forests that depended on fire to open their seeds and grow new trees, and maybe new life, a better life would come when the diseased life that had harmed it was burned.

“Burn the mercenaries.” Dalen ordered, pointing out a nearby sergeant who was looking at the flames with an open mouth. “Search them first. Arms and armor go to the survivors here, along with any coin or valuable on them. Papers or anything of an intelligence value are to be given to Bard Lackley or Lieutenant Mayweather. Make a bonfire pit to the east of here. The wind is blowing from the west.”

“You’re sure, my lord?” The sergeant asked once. When Dalen nodded he turned and began issuing orders.

“Lee’s injured, but the medic says he’ll be fine.” Lackley said in a low voice. “The local women seem to be recovering their wits and are seeing to the injured. None of the mercenaries live. Any that were just wounded, well the ladies finished them off.”

“You’ll leave that out of whatever you write about this.” Dalen stated flatly and his eyes met the Bard’s for a moment.

“Do you think Bards don’t know when to not include something?” Lackley said with a shake of his head. “If we put in too many details, well the Guard might have to go back to conscripting troops.”

“My lord?” A familiar voice came from Dalen’s right and he turned to see the blond-haired man walking towards him. Beside the man was his son, who stood a half-head shorter than Dalen. Blake’s Companion walked on the boy’s other side. Dalen noticed something he hadn’t seen before. The companion was saddled with the gear typical of a Companion out on Search for his Herald.

“I’m sorry, but I never got your name, sir.” Dalen said tiredly, aware that he was covered in his own vomit, and his pants were soiled from when he’d lost control of his bodily functions. He flushed in embarrassment, but then neither of the two facing him were in much better condition. The man had an improvised bandage on his chest, and the boy had two black eyes.

“I am Leo, my lord.” The man said with a slight bow of his head. “I just thank the Great Lord that you came when you did. That mage was doing something, making us do his will and if you hadn’t come when you did, I suspect none of us would have been free by the time the sun set.”

“No, most likely not.” Dalen admitted with a sigh. “When you work land as farmers do, a connection forms between you and the land you work. It becomes a part of you, and you of it as well. The mage was using that connection to bind the land, and through it you, to his will.”

“That’s what I told you he was doing, Pa.” Blake said with an excited grin. Like most boys born on a farm, he was well built and in good physical condition. Certainly he would give Dalen a run for his money physically, and he had a strong, if lean face that gave him fine features. Green eyes sparkled in amusement, and Dalen looked at them wistfully. Given another year or two, Dalen’s eyes would be a pale blue, and his blond hair would be white instead, bleached by node power.

“I am sorry we were not here in time to stop them from doing as much harm as they did, Goodman Leo.” Dalen said with a sigh.

“You’re injured, my lord.” Leo said quietly, and there was a message for Dalen in his eyes. He understood, and to Dalen’s shame, he didn’t blame Dalen for his shortcomings.

“Rad says, I’m sorry, Rad I can’t say that!” Blake said, turning to his Companion and blushing at whatever the Companion said.

Do not blame yourself, Dalen. The Companion’s voice rang in his head. You did your best, and that is all anyone can ask of you.

“He’s right, you know.” Blake said, showing he’d heard what the Companion had said. Well that made sense, the Companion was the boy’s Companion after all. His father looked on the conversation with a little confusion, but said nothing. “What Rad says is right. It’s like when a hail storm comes and ruins a field. There’s nothing you can do about it without a weather worker, except to do your best to pick up the damage after the storm’s past.”

“Sometimes even with a weather worker there’s still damage to the field.” Leo said wisely and with a nod of approval at his son. “So, is Rad the name of your Companion?”

“No, Pa.” Blake said with a blush as his father led Dalen and the boy towards the main house where several women had established a triage area for treating the wounded. The Companion seemed content to just follow them now. “His name is actually Radev but you know me. I always like to give folks a nickname.”

“Yes, son, I know all too well.” Leo said with barely suppressed mirth, and Dalen let out a sigh. The bit of mirth was like a bit of sunshine peeking out from behind storm clouds. Life here, eventually, would return to normal, no matter what harm was done.

Dalen could only hope it was a sign for Valdemar as a whole, and not just this one small corner of the kingdom.