Sara gathered everyone together.
She looked every single person in the face, letting the solemnity and importance of this next move rest in her eyes. Some of them tensed up, automatically reaching for their weapons, as they looked around to see where the new threat was coming from. But this was one they couldn’t see, and she reached out and squeezed their shoulders as she passed.
They didn’t understand now, but they would soon. She went row by row, face by face, and then walked to the front of the group. It had been done to truly see who she was with, study faces she’d only seen glimpses of in her rush to move between enemies, and now she had seen their eyes, and through that—their souls.
It had also been about giving them a chance to see her, which was only fair—considering what she was about to ask them to do.
Everyone was silent, contemplative, as she took her place. At Ezekiel’s nod and Arcnus’s steady look, Sara took a breath and began to explain the tactic that even she only understood in theory. But theories were what they were running on at the moment. Better than a half-assed prayer to a god who wasn’t listening, but only by so much.
“We have one chance to get this right,” Sara said. “One chance to bind our magic together as one unit. One chance to break through this shield.”
There were uneasy shuffles through the group, and Sara caught the eyes of individuals who ducked her gaze, until one person stepped forward.
He spread his arms wide and gestured at the collective mages at the front of the group. “I understand why you’ve gathered the mages, but what has this to do with the rest of us?”
One or two murmured in agreement. No one was backing out; they seemed genuinely baffled as to what they could do for the cause—besides stand around with their balls in hand, that is.
Marx spoke up. “You know we’re ready to rumble the second you say ‘go,’” he said. “But there’s nothing for us to do here.”
Sara shook her head. “You underestimate your worth and our enemy.”
She glanced back over at the Kade invasion leader who was tied to a pole far enough away that he could still see them but couldn’t eavesdrop.
Marx shrugged. “I’m an infantryman—it’s not my job to assess the enemy’s potential tactics. What is my job is to do it, and I don’t know what can be done here.” Almost as an afterthought, he added, “No offense. I’m not trying to question you, just what you want us to do.”
Sara didn’t take offense. She clasped her hands together at her waist and replied, “A good question with a simple answer. We may be doing the mage-work, but the majority of us will be effectively defenseless—so deep in unity, so deep in the bond, that we might as well be sheep lined up for the slaughter.”
“The majority?” said Marx with arms crossed.
Sara shrugged. “I’ve learned that I’m less…susceptible to mage holds, even ones I’ve volunteered for, after dealing with the hobbling mage from before. I think I should be able to be at least aware—if not mobile—if necessary but I can’t cover everybody, I’m not inhuman you know.”
“Could have fooled us,” someone muttered in a comment she had no time to probe.
“Fine,” Marx said. “Protect everyone, watch out for you in case of the worst scenario possible, got it.”
“Good,” she said dryly.
She paused to let that sink in, for them to really acknowledge how much trust she was putting in them all, before she spoke again.
“Now here is what I think we’ll need you to protect us from,” she said calmly. “We won’t know what’s behind that shield when we break it. We may not even rouse from our link in time to pull out our weapons. But you will.”
The fierce look she gave the group showed no compunction about what she would do if they didn’t. But she wasn’t trying to threaten them. She just wanted to impress upon them the severity of exactly what she was asking, demanding them to do.
Then a lone voice spoke up.
“We understand more than most what you’re putting into this, Sara Fairchild. And we’ll guard you as you have guarded us. All of you. All of us.”
As he finished speaking, the crowds parted and Karn was visible.
He looked back at the people he had just sat among and said, “Won’t we?”
“You bet your ass we will,” someone else said.
And then the call went up and others were chiming in with ferocious agreement. For once, Sara’s shoulders relaxed instead of tensing up as Karn came up to grab her shoulder on her right side.
He leaned close and said, “We can handle this. Don’t want you choking up on me. Just go kick some more Kade butt.”
Sara replied with a bit of emotion in her voice, “I intend to, don’t you worry.”
He laughed, let go, and tossed a wooden stick in the air. “Trust me—I wasn’t worried.”
When it came back down securely in his grasp, Sara was surprised to see it wasn’t a stick at all, but a fiddler’s pipe. She had thought that she’d heard music on another night, but now she was sure she had. It was a nice thought, because she realized that Karn had more secrets to him than even she’d guess at. Then Arcnus signaled and Sara’s shoulders drooped a bit—it was time.
As she moved in place, she tried to keep the shivers from going down her back.
Sara wasn’t afraid of much, but the idea of being in someone else’s control and care as she went into what was effectively a dreamless sleep was enough to make anyone with an assassin’s target on their back a wee bit nervous.
For Sara Fairchild, it went against every life lesson she had been taught.
She didn’t rely on anyone to get what she needed done. Not for defense. Not for a fight. And while it was true that she was again going into battle for others, knowing that they were doing the same for her, and she couldn’t be there, well, it was a traumatic gesture.
Then Arcnus, as lead mage, showed up in front of her, and she’d didn’t have much more time to fret.
Instead, she listened and was pliant as he adjusted her body to suit his needed manipulations. With his heavy hands on her waist, pushing and pulling until she took a step to the left and back two steps more, Sara felt like a doll.
As her feet moved into place, he said with satisfaction, “There, just there—perfect.”
Sara raised her eyes from where she’d been watching his hands and met his gaze. She’d felt a zip of magic go from those hands into her waist and up to her body. It wasn’t much more than a pinprick, but it was targeted.
“What did you do?” she asked as his magic headed straight for her spine.
She’d already pulled her weapon, after stridently refusing to disarm and demanding that every mage participating in this net do the same. They may be defenseless while they pulled this off, but a single weapon could be the difference between them dying as soon as they re-emerged or being given time to prepare. Sara’s weapon now rested in the crook of the shocked mage’s neck, but her body felt like she was moving through molasses.
She could move, she could speak even, but everything was slowed down.
Just as she had surmised she could still move, but in a pitched battle being slowed down made even her almost defenseless.
An idiot could disarm her like this and she certainly didn’t like it…at all. The urge to call the whole thing off was overwhelming, but no one had ever accused her of being a quitter and she certainly wouldn’t let them start now.
She calmed her wildly beating heart and she said through terse lips, “I can barely move at a snail’s pace. I just I...”
Her words trailed off as she was helpless to say what she wanted to say.
But he clearly understood…or maybe he was just reacting to the sword she had put against his neck. Even a slow-moving child could press a blade in.
“Mercenary Fairchild, give me a moment and I will explain!” he said.
Knowing that and feeling like she had to do something Sara did indeed press the blade closer, if only to make herself feel a tad bit better.
“Make it quick please,” she growled. She was trying to listen to the internal thoughts that told her this was the plan and the instincts that said she should get out of this trap however she could.
She wanted to kill him, but she waited. She was also well aware that she didn’t know him nearly as well as she should, hence her wariness and her non-desire to lower her sword. But she also knew that this wasn’t the most opportune time for him to turn traitor. He was still trapped inside the shield wall with them all, she could still shout and warn the others, and if she was going to deceive someone, she would have waited for half the group to be vulnerable within the net instead of doing so while the rest were potential threats.
Though she was well aware that, as the first in the line, he could hit the others with the same magic he had hit her with. But it would be different for them. Instead of just slowing down their movements, they would be conventionally paralyzed and she worried even more vulnerable than a battle mage who could use her gifts to fight his hold.
Which was why she kept her blade at his throat as she said, “Seconds.”
“Everything all right over there?” asked the guard who’d been assigned behind her body, to mirror her position and defend against a wave of invaders if they came at them after the shield wall came down.
He sounded a trifle nervous, which she didn’t like, but she was glad he’d at least noticed something was amiss. Though he didn’t move forward to intercept—a rookie move. He was one of the mid-line soldiers. Not exactly as green as they came, but no consummate warrior. She wondered how he had survived the Kade invasion, but wasn’t sure she wanted to know. It didn’t help to dwell on the faults of the person assigned to protect your body.
Speaking of which, she was still waiting even after threatening the mage their entire plan hinged upon.
“I’m only doing what you instructed me to do,” Arcnus said calmly. “Preparing you, preparing you all, for the guidance necessary to travel across great magical distances and attack a mage we can’t see, hear, or even touch. This isn’t everyday magic. It’s target magic.” The only reason she knew that he was nervous was the sweat beading heavily on his brow.
That was when someone spoke up from the other side of the shield wall. The only reason Sara heard it was because they were standing practically on top of it.
“Let her go,” said Reben in a fierce tone that Sara didn’t even know she was capable of.
Arcnus stilled as he felt steel on his throat. Steel that wasn’t Sara’s. She was a little bit impressed when she saw Reben come through the shield wall as if it was just a mirage.
Sara felt a bit better at that moment. Reben was no assassin—her shaking knife was drawing blood unwittingly, she imagined—but she was there for her friends and that mattered more than anything. Shaky threat or not.
“As I said,” Arcnus continued shakily, “this is necessary for my purpose. I can’t target individuals who are all free to move about on their own.”
“Target?” Reben asked, her knife hand shaking from the strain of reaching the throat of a man a good deal taller than her.
Sara said, “Reben, I have this. Back off.”
The girl’s eyes flickered uncertainly between Sara and her captor—Reben seemed to not even notice that Sara had her own sword steadily held at his throat, making the captive the captor.
Reben replied, “You’re sure?”
“Oh, I am,” Sara said. “Because if this mage doesn’t explain why his magic is trying to freeze my body with lackluster results very soon, he’ll be unable to use his.”
Arcnus gulped sharply as one small knife was taken away from his throat and a long, sharp sword remained.
Sara continued, looking him directly in the eye, “And if you say it’s target magic again, I can’t promise what the outcome will be, because I don’t care if it’s necromancy—this was never discussed. What are you doing?”
Arcnus said gently, “I need you aligned perfectly for my magic to take not just me and your powers along but everyone else as well. Isabelle will then be the chain that forges the link.”
Sara nodded, “Go on.”
“In order to do so,” he continued nervously, “the rest of them will be frozen partially and I hope I can count on you to use your best judgement to stay as still as possible even though my magic isn’t working so well on you. I need your placements to be exact if this is going to work.”
That didn’t fully change Sara’s position on the matter, but she was out of objections, and Reben was watching the exchange with wide eyes. Not more focused than Sara was, though. It was her body on the line, after all.
“Fine,” she said calmly as she lowered her sword with jerky movements.
He followed the descent over her blade and noticed the twitch.
With some concern, he said, “You know…it’ll be alright. I’m not after you.”
Sara gave a dry, bitter laugh. “You know what? I’ve heard that before.”
He swallowed deeply and then leaned forward until their faces were aligned. Nose to nose. Eyes to eyes. Lips to lips.
“I promise you that this is part of the ritual,” he said while staring at her hard and willing her to believe him. “It won’t even last long. I’ll release you the minute my guidance is in place and we have our target lined up.”
Sara searched his eyes for a spark of deception—even the tiniest hint of it would give her the excuse she needed to cut his head off and be done with this manipulation. But she saw none, which irritated her.
Finally, she said, “Don’t betray us, Battle Mage Arcnus, because if you do, I will haunt you in your dreams.”
He cleared his throat. “It’s Line Mage Arcnus, if we’re getting particular, ma’am.”
Sara raised an eyebrow while her lips twitched into a smile. Sass. She liked it.
“Not that it matters so much,” the nervous mage said. “But my actual designation is line mage. As I said before, I work in the battle magic division, and—”
“You’re prattling,” Sara said archly.
He stumbled to a halt. “Well, you’re still threatening me.”
“You haven’t seen a threat,” she replied with ice in her veins.
“Then if we can get on with this?” he asked breathlessly.
“You better be right,” Sara said as he did just that.
She let herself stand vulnerable as she stared at the man who would soon hold their entire lives in their hands. There were a lot of ways this could go wrong.
He could sever their mental connections and wipe their minds.
He could keep the majority of them paralyzed for eternity.
He could kill them a thousand different ways.
But Sara chose to look at him, hope, and trust that he would save them. It was their only chance, and they had to take it.