Syline thought that was a fantastic idea and turned to another page she’d bookmarked earlier. The next spell conjured up illusions. This one was a little easier, but still draining. Cries turned to screams as, what Syline envisaged, terrifying devils clawed their way out of the ground around her. Baying at the priests who rushed to intercept. The pyre was momentarily forgotten.
‘Go!’ she screamed, hoping Thelonious could hear her over the crowd as she had the devils dance around the priests. She was already beginning to feel shaky on her feet.
‘See!’ cried a priest, but not the one who’d been reading the woman on the pyre’s crimes. ‘See! Her devilish consorts and their warlocks step to defend her! The dark flames of hell rise against the Dawn’s Light!’
Syline wondered if she’d only made things worse, but really, how could things get worse from you being burned to death after watching someone else receive the same? Clerics and guards were sprinting past the devils now with blades in hand, avoiding their reaching hands to come for their ‘summoner’. Now was the time for her staff to prove its worth. Fires of hell were a great idea and Syline conjured up a flame dagger from her staff. Thanks to its evocation-enhancing enchantments, it was better described as a flame lance. It was as long as her arm and burned bright from the tip of the staff. She swung it back and forth wildly, moving to get closer to the pyre as the flames forced the priests to back off a step. She willed the devils to surround her. She’d figured out the rest of her plan by now. Admittedly, she was a fool for rushing in without even fully thinking it out, driven on by her horror at Leoric’s choice of faith over family. Really, she was a fool all over, this was a terrible decision, but she couldn’t stop now. She was certain she could manage this; she’d just need two more spells. Syline could see Thelonious on the pyre now, untying the woman from her bindings. For her part, Amberly looked very confused.
‘Laes? H-How?’ Syline heard her say to Thelonious.
Second last spell. The devils formed a cordon around her and, though more guards were appearing, the priests weren’t yet brave enough to try their luck. She ran through the incantation directly from the book, and with each word, she felt her limbs grow weaker. This spell would be something she’d be hesitant to try and cast normally, let alone rapid fire right after two other powerful spells. After a final word, the spell ran through her staff, the ruby glowed bright-red and she swept it forward on a shaking arm. The staff felt impossibly heavy. In a circle around the pyre, flames surged two metres high, forming a wall all around it. The devils fell back into the flame so she could dismiss the illusion without the priests seeing it. One less thing taxing on her reserves. Syline fell to one knee. The magic was taking its toll now. Spots filled her vision. This was stupid, this was idiotic. Her brain felt like it was on fire.
Thelonious had the woman now. He hadn’t had time to untie her legs, so he’d just slung her over one shoulder as he climbed down from the pyre. One more spell. Just one more spell and she’d be able to rest. This one was at least a simpler spell than the others. The arcane mount was one even most beginners could manage because it was a very efficient spell in terms of how much magic it consumed. As long as they didn’t get too fancy with its appearance. More than that, she could cast it so it consumed it all at once, rather than relying on a constant connection; she could give it all she had left.
She could do this.
She didn’t bother to rise to her feet as she ran through the incantation. Holding onto her staff for dear life, really it was all that kept her from collapsing completely. If all went well, she wouldn’t need to stand. The horse was drawn from the last vestiges of her power and Syline let go of her staff, struggling to remain conscious. She really needed to practice casting one spell after another like that if she was going to call herself a real mage. The strength of her legs left her. She began to slump to the ground, just in time to feel Thelonious’ strong arm wrap around her stomach and throw her up onto the horse. She landed across its shoulders, but barely felt the impact, at this point just wholly focused on keeping her breathing steady and getting feeling back in her limbs. The rest would be up to Thelonious.
In the last two days, Thelonious had carried Syline while the girl was barely or not at all conscious far more than he would have liked. People might spread rumours about him if that kept happening. It didn’t help that across the horse was a girl still tied around her ankles, holding on for dear life. At least that position left her keeping Syline in place as well. Now, came the exciting part. He’d always prided himself on being a pretty good rider, and this horse wasn’t afraid of anything. He could push it in ways he couldn’t push a flesh and blood horse, such as leaping straight through the quickly dwindling wall of flames Syline had conjured. Going high enough that all the girls got was a bit of a hot flush across their cheeks as they soared.
The priests scattered from the horse’s landing. It looked like they’d been preparing some spell to clear the flames but when a huge horse of blue light leapt over the wall of fire, those thoughts were right out of their head. The crowd scattered in the path of them; they’d be stupid not to. Thelonious loved this spell already, for the horse it conjured was a huge and powerful beast worthy of some great hero. Not even the guards and priests were fool enough to try and stop them. Not since Thelonious drew his bastard sword and waved it with great bravado in his charge. A hellblooded warrior, with two women indisposed across his arcane mount, waving a sword about to scare off sun worshipping priests. Gods, what would his mother think?
Now that they were on the open road, things were easier going. The woman they’d rescued looked up at Thelonious as he rode on. ‘Who are you?’ she blearily asked.
‘Thelonious, nice to meet you, ma’am.’
‘Amberly. Why, though? Are you friends of Laes? I’m sorry, but you were too late…’ She sighed.
‘Nope, sorry, ma’am. I did meet him at the stocks though, seemed a good fella for a devil.’
‘Then why?’
‘Syline there thought it was the right thing to do.’
‘And you?’
Thelonious chuckled softly, resisting the urge to say he just hadn’t been quick enough to stop Syline. They could hear the guards in the distance, horses were called for. Priests yelled after them, calling them heretics, devil fondlers, children of the hells. It reminded him of the other times he’d tried to get along with sun-loving knee scuffers.
‘Ma’am, I’m just the bodyguard. Though, I’m happy to thumb my nose at the church or the hells. Consider it a last kindness to a fella brave enough to go to the pyre for someone else.’ He pulled a knife from his belt and handed it to her. ‘There’s a stable just at the edge of town. I’ll be getting off there. You can ride a horse, right?’ She took it, sawing at the ties on her legs while holding tight to his arm with the other. She cursed furiously as he had to swerve to avoid an oncoming carriage and nearly sent her flying, the arcane horse whinnying at the true flesh and blood animals as they went by. He was pushing it for all it was worth. If the guards caught up to them or reached the edge of town before they did, they were surely done for.
‘Of course I can ride a horse. Where do I go?’
‘Go due east. Towards the border. There’s an island s’posed to be filled with nasty stuff. Knee scuffers would take their time working up the balls to follow us.’
She let out a little laugh, sounding half like a sob. ‘Gods. You sound like him too. Not as sarcastic, but it’s in there.’
‘Ma’am?’
‘Don’t worry about it.’ She had her legs free now and swung up to put them to either side of the horse, sitting up properly now. Just in time too. Thelonious pulled up towards the tavern where they’d left Alma and Corax and leapt off the horse before it truly had time to stop.
‘Get moving! I’ll be right after you!’
‘Stay alive, okay!’ Amberly called back, pushing herself into the saddle and spurring the horse off once again. ‘I don’t want to have to save my saviour!’
Thelonious chuckled and drew his sword as he went for his horse. He’d be cutting this damned close. Alma greeted him with a pleased snort as he ran into the stable, trotting his way. Corax fluttered up onto his shoulder. He wasted no time, grabbing Alma’s reins and hurrying both animals from the stable just in time for a pair of guards to come tearing towards him on horseback. More of the guards would be coming; he couldn’t waste a single moment, or they’d never get out of here. He slapped Alma’s haunch to get her trotting out of town and crouched in a ready posture, blade held low to the side. The guards had their swords drawn and were coming at him fast, just a small space between them. He felt the world slow down, it was only this moment that mattered. If he made a mistake, he died. If he didn’t, he’d win. That’s how every fight was. Every fight closed the entire world down to nothing but the moments between heartbeats, the tiny spaces of time between each breath.
The horses were right before him. He dived forward beneath the rider’s swings, holding his blade out to the side in both hands. He felt it almost torn from his grip as it scored along a horse’s leg. He hit the ground hard as he heard the horse scream. There was a tremendous clatter of armoured men hitting the ground fast and the meaty sound of horses slamming into one another. Just as he hoped, the horse he hit had tripped straight into the path of the other. Both had gone down in a tangle of limbs. One of the guards was trapped under them, and the other was struggling to his feet, nursing a broken arm.
Thelonious jumped to his feet and charged him. The soldier desperately tried to muster a defence, but he had dropped his sword in the fall and only had his buckler. He expected the swing from the bastard sword and got his shield in position to parry as best he may. Thelonious’ hand wrapped around the man’s throat picked him up using his momentum to drive them both onwards and slammed the man to the ground. His breath went out of the guard in a great bellow. Nothing permanent, but Thelonious doubted he’d be following after him. He ran on, leaving his fallen foes in his wake. He didn’t kill either of them, but he doubted the injured horse would be any good to the watch after that. Hopefully the other would be alright. He liked horses.
Speaking of, Alma whinnied at him as she saw him approach. Corax had flown back to her at some point. He’d barely noticed the bird even when it was on his shoulder, let alone when it had left. He got a foot in the stirrup without even slowing and nearly went right over Alma’s head as he pushed himself up into the saddle. Readjusting, he got himself properly seated before spurring the horse on. Soon enough, he’d disappeared into the woods. The sky overhead had clouded over and, as the trees surrounded him, it started to snow.
Amberly rode on atop the magical steed, worried by how transparent it seemed. Syline, the one who’d rescued her, now dozed against the horse’s neck, leaving her largely alone for the moment. Thoughts were going through her mind at a mile a minute. Did these people have some kind of link to Laes? Did she deserve to be dead? Had she been right in her choice? Had luck and fate seen her right, sending new allies to lead her to safety?
She could hope.
She was off the island that Dawnsteel lay upon now, pushing the horse east. The snow-covered waters fell away behind her as it galloped tirelessly onwards. The only thing out here with them was a little red songbird flying overhead, as if it were following them. She hoped that strange hellblooded fellow, Thelonious, had gotten away alright. Going off the few landmarks that the tundra had – or more accurately, the few uninhabited islands she could recognise – she was about half an hour from the border now. She’d been riding flat out for almost two hours, and her body ached to high heaven. She had never given them the confession and they had made her suffer for it. Hot irons, blades, beatings, whatever they could do to force the confession, she had no faith left to spare once Leoric had stepped back and the real confessors had stepped in. Soel would get nothing from her if he was so willing to abandon his followers for trying to do what was right. The girl in front of her stirred as they hit the border. Amberly was glad for it; being alone with her own thoughts was starting to get to her.
‘Hey, are you alright?’ she asked the girl, taking one arm off the reins to help her in sitting up properly.
‘My head’s pounding, I’ll tell you that Thel…’ The girl trailed off, her voice husky, but soft. She looked behind her. ‘Where’s Thelonious?’ she asked.
‘He stayed behind to get something from a stable. I’m going to guess your horse.’
‘Oh, I do hope he’s alright.’
