The Wizardwar

"Andris is still a jordain," Matteo said quietly. "He follows our code. I would stake my life on his word."

"And ours as well," Iago grumbled.

Eager to change the subject, Matteo turned to Themo. "You have not spoken of your plans. What will you do, now that you've been released from jordaini service?"

The big man gave him a fleeting grin. "I'd like to survive this trip." He lifted one shoulder in a shrug and gestured to the jordaini garments he wore out of life-long habit "Truth is, I’m feeling more adrift than I expected to. The only thing I know is the jordaini order."

"The world is too wide for a single man's eyes to take in," Matteo observed.

"Just so. I don't need someone to do my thinking for me, mind you, but it's easier to think things through if you have some sort of reference point. Maybe I’ll join the militia."

Matteo nodding approvingly. "There is great need for such as you."

He would have said more, but Andris placed a translucent hand on Matteo's arm. He pointed to a small muddy patch of ground just off the path, almost obscured by a tumble of rocks. There, barely discernable from horseback, was a faint footprint.

Matteo signaled a halt. He slid from his horse and went over for a closer look. The print was long and narrow, most likely a woman's foot, and the boot sole showed signs of repeated repair. A faint smear of blood appeared on a rock nearby, as if the traveler had stumbled and caught herself. Most likely, someone already wounded and weakened had passed this way, and recently. Neither the blood nor the muddy print was completely dry.

"Crinti stragglers," Matteo said softly. "Keep your weapons at hand."

Iago shot a disgusted look at Andris. "So much for his jordaini honor!"

Shrill, ululating battle cries rose from a dozen hiding places, coming at them from all sides and echoing off the surrounding mountains.

"The floodgate clearing," Andris said urgently. "It's nearby and gives our best hope of holding out against so many."

"How many would that be?" retorted Iago. "How large an ambush have you arranged?"

No one heard his objection, for they were already riding hard on the heels of Andris's mount. Iago kicked his horse into a run, following the other jordain up the steep, narrow path created by the streambed and into a clearing.

Andris leaped from his horse and put his shoulder to a large, rounded boulder. Themo came to help him. They rolled it into the opening made by the stream, and then piled more rocks on top. The makeshift dam would not stop the Crinti, but it would slow them down.

"Now there's only one way in," Andris said, pointing to the pass leading out of the clearing.

"And only one way out!"

A woman's voice, harsh and heavily accented, rang through the clearing. The jordaini whirled, just in time to see a large net spi

Over a dozen Crinti warriors stepped from the shadows of small caves, planting themselves in a circle around the edge of the net and holding the jordaini trapped beneath. One of them, a tall woman with crimson tattoos encircling her upper arms, looked Andris over appraisingly.

"Elf-blooded or not, I did not think you would return. You have also spoken with Kiva?"

Matteo noted the stu

"No," Andris said shortly. "I didn't know she had returned."

"Then you brought the humans here on your own. Well done." The big Crinti pulled out a sword and slit open the net over Andris. She reached down and hauled him to his feet.

Her gaze skimmed her other captives. Her strange, blue eyes narrowed when they settled upon Matteo. "This one killed Whizzra. It was his woman who summoned the dark bines."

"My friend," Matteo corrected.

Shanair laughed and cast a sly glance toward Andris. "And here is another of your 'friends?' You do not choose them wisely. This one betrays you, and the girl was not strong enough to master what she summoned. She is dead now, or gone beyond the veil, which is much worse."

She turned to her warriors. One of them had a large, powerful crossbow cranked and ready, leveled at Matteo's chest. The chieftain jerked her head in Matteo's direction. "Kill him first, but slowly."

The gray archer smirked and lowered her aim.

"Wait," Andris said. He pulled out his jordaini daggers. "I've known this man since boyhood. A crossbow is too swift and too kind."

He turned to Matteo. He flipped both daggers, caught them by their points, and sent first one then the other spi

The first dagger struck the ground near Matteo, neatly slicing through the tied ropes of the net. Matteo thrust his arm through the opening and closed his hand around the handle of the second, spi

A risky move, catching a thrown dagger, but one the two of them had practiced together since boyhood.

Matteo sliced through the net and burst out into the clearing, drawing his sword as he came. He dropped into guard position, prepared to hold off the Crinti's blades as Themo and Iago struggled free.

As he moved, he saw Andris whirl and seize the woman's crossbow. The jordain forced her aim up at the large, unstable rock formation that had hidden the Crinti ambush.

Boulders tumbled down into the clearing, bringing more stones with them. Andris hurtled forward, driving Iago toward a small overhang. The four jordaini flattened themselves into the scant shelter as the thunder and dust of falling rock filled the clearing.

"She was wrong, you know," Matteo shouted at Andris. The pale jordain sent him an inquiring look. "The Crinti chieftain. She said I do not choose my friends well."

A quick look of gratitude flashed in Andris's pale eyes. "Obviously she never met your horse Cyric."

The two jordaini shared a chuckle. When the avalanche ceased but for echoes carrying the grumbling thunder from mountain to mountain, they came cautiously out, swords ready.

Most of the Crinti had gone down under the tumbling stone. Some shifted weakly, others lay bloody and still. Only a few Crinti were left standing-odds the jordaini could reasonably face. The chieftain staggered to her feet, her wild, steel-gray hair crusted with blood.

"Another traitor," she said, eyeing Andris with disdain. She spat at the ground. "You are not worth fighting. She is not worth fighting for. We go."

The surviving Crinti turned and disappeared through the pass, swiftly melting into the hills.

"Shouldn't we give chase?" Themo asked.

Iago sent him a withering look. "Remember the battle cries that sent us scurrying into this hole? This was a small group. Most of them are out there. If they want to leave Halruaa, I say we let them."

He turned to Andris. "You have proved me wrong. See that you keep doing so."

"I’ll do my best," the jordain agreed, "but I should warn you that despite my best intentions, I seem destined to betray those around me."

"A strange sentiment," Matteo protested, "from someone whose quick thinking kept us alive."

"I thank you for that thought, but remember that heritage plays a strange part in destiny."

"Then it's just as well we jordaini seldom know of our ancestry," Iago said curtly. "Do you think the Crinti was telling the truth about Kiva? Is she still alive?"

Andris sighed. "I don't know what to think. The spells cast during the invasion were right out of Akhlaur's spell-book. Few living wizards could cast them. To my thinking, the possibility of Akhlaur's return indicated that Kiva died in the Plane of Water. But Shanair spoke of Kiva as if her survival was a fact we both knew. She had no reason to lie to me."

Another tremor shuddered through the clearing. "Another rockslide," groaned Themo, eying the distance between the jordaini and their recent shelter.