4
“Impossible,” Maren whispered.
“Please tell me I’m seeing things,” I said.
“If you are, then I am.”
The sorcerer walked to the center of the camp and stood near the fire. He pulled his hood back, and there was no mistaking it. The black hair, the hawkish nose. It was him. He spoke, his words booming across the camp, but he was speaking in the goblin tongue. The rasping, throaty words echoed off the surrounding hills.
“He’s using magic,” Maren said.
“Well, I didn’t think he spoke that loud normally.”
“No. I mean, yes, he is projecting his voice, but he’s using other magic, too. It’s the same slippery magic from Tiradale. He must have another flute.”
“There’s something else,” I said. “He’s able to talk. Didn’t Giffor say he removed the man’s tongue?”
“You’re right,” Maren replied. “I’d forgotten about that.” She frowned. “Giffor must have released him, but why?”
“I don’t think he’d do that. The man kidnapped his daughter, after all. He must’ve escaped. The real mystery is how is he talking without his tongue? Can magic restore body parts like that?”
Maren shook her head. I quieted as the sorcerer continued speaking. The camp was hushed, the creatures enthralled by his every word. When he finished speaking, a cheer rose from the goblins, driving them into a frenzy. They began chanting and lifting their weapons into the air.
“What did he say?” I asked.
“He’s summoned more tribes, and they have answered his call. They’re coming down from the mountains.”
“We need to warn the towns and help them evacuate,” I said.
“It’s too late for that. We already know the goblins have scouts out there. If they get wind that the people are fleeing …” She let the words hang in the air.
The goblins had formed into small groups and continued their chanting.
“We need to do something,” I said. “I’m calling Sion.”
“No!” Maren clasped my hand. “We can stop this.”
“How?”
“We’ll capture the sorcerer. Without a head, the snake can’t see.”
“But it can still move,” I argued.
Maren stared at me in silence for a moment, then pushed past me and ran toward the tent. The sorcerer was watching his army, not paying attention to us. I muttered a curse and sprinted after Maren. She reached the tent and the hobgoblin stepped in front of her path, lifting his ax and hurling a string of gravelly words at her. I drew my sword and lunged at him, driving the blade between an opening in his armor. The sword plunged into his stomach, and he went down with a gurgled cry of surprise.
I looked back to see if we’d drawn attention, but his cry must’ve been drowned in the tumult of the other goblins. I wiped the blade on his tattered pant leg and sheathed it. Maren helped me pull him into the tent, and we dropped him to the side. I grabbed the edge of a rug and pulled it over him, then we moved to opposite sides of the entrance and waited.
My heart was thundering in my ears. This was insane. If something went wrong, we’d be dead before Sion and Demris could get to us. My mind swirled with horrifying possibilities, and I reached out for Sion. Something was blocking our connection. It was dark and empty, like some kind of void.
Sion?
There was no reply. I tried to navigate around the darkness, but it was everywhere. It sucked in all of the words and feelings I tried to convey to Sion, forcing them into the void. I looked at Maren, confusion starting to give way to panic. Before I could say anything, the sorcerer stepped inside the tent. He walked to a table covered with a map. Small figurines were scattered across its surface. Maren lifted her hand, drawing my attention. She had three fingers up, then two, then one.
“I know you’re there,” the sorcerer said.
Maren paused mid-step, and I grabbed the hilt of my sword. The man didn’t move.
“Your illusion is good, but it’s not perfect,” he continued. “Who are you? And why are you here?” His tone was calm and collected as if he wasn’t the least bit concerned about us. He moved one of the figurines, then turned around, his gaze sweeping past me and landing on Maren.
“Wait. Let me guess … those dragons belong to you two, don’t they?”
“Don’t act like you don’t recognize us,” Maren said.
“Should I?” He whispered something under his breath, and our illusions faded. I drew my sword and took a step forward.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he said, his eyes flicking over at me momentarily.
“How did you escape?” I demanded. “The baron isn’t going to spare your life this time.”
The sorcerer’s brow furrowed. “I truly have no idea what you’re talking about. I will ask one final time. Why are you here?”
“He’s lying,” Maren said.
“I know,” I replied.
“Suit yourselves.” The sorcerer began chanting the words to a spell. Maren also cast a spell, and she completed hers before he did. A blast of invisible force knocked the man backward. He struck the table and tumbled over it, falling to the ground. The map and figurines went flying in all directions. Maren rushed forward and put her boot against the sorcerer’s neck.
I joined her, pressing my blade against the palm of his left hand.
“How did you escape?” I repeated.
“Fools,” he rasped. Maren’s foot was cutting off his airway, his breaths coming in strained wheezes.
“Maybe he was tortured to the point he doesn’t remember anything?” I suggested.
“No, he’s lying. And I can prove it.”
“How?” I asked, glancing at the entrance. The clamor of the goblins outside hadn’t subdued, but I didn’t want any of them walking in and surprising us.
“The dragon bone flute,” Maren answered. “Check inside his robes.”
I knelt beside him, setting my sword down, and patted his chest and sides. Something solid was on his left side. I pulled his robes open and saw the edge of the white flute peeking out from a pocket. As I reached for it, the man tried to say something, but Maren pressed her foot down harder, cutting off his words. He struggled against her, his entire body jostling about. I managed to grab ahold of the flute.
“Hold still!” Maren snapped.
The sorcerer’s free hand swung up from the ground, striking the back of Maren’s leg—the one holding her weight. Her leg involuntarily bent, and she toppled backward with a cry of surprise. The man sat up and hit me in the throat. I choked and released the flute, my hands going to my neck. My eyes watered, blurring my vision.
I saw Maren’s vague outline moving, and the two began struggling. I fought to inhale, adrenaline making my vision pulse. I blinked rapidly, clearing the tears from my eyes. Maren was trying to grab the flute from the sorcerer, but he was stronger and faster. He smacked her hand away and scrambled backward. I finally got air into my lungs and reached for my sword, clutching the hilt weakly. In desperation, I tried to call out to Sion.
The darkness was still blocking our bond, and I had a feeling it had something to do with the sorcerer. I staggered to my feet and swung sloppily, my balance off-center. I missed, and the sword went flying from my grasp, clattering somewhere behind me. I cursed my weak hand and turned to look for it.
The sorcerer chanted, firing off a spell. I threw myself to the ground and rolled over, looking for the danger. Whatever he’d cast hadn’t been meant for me, but Maren must have countered it. She was unharmed and in the middle of casting her own spell. I scrambled on my hands and knees and spotted my sword lying nearby. I crawled over and snatched it up, then stood and rushed the sorcerer. My grip was firmer this time, and I swung horizontally, trying to score a hit across his ribs.
My blade landed, tearing a long cut through the robes, but the victory was short-lived. The robes hung in the air for a moment, then collapsed to the ground. The sorcerer was gone. I whirled around, expecting an attack from behind. He wasn’t there.
“Where is he?” I asked.
“He’s gone,” Maren replied. “He used a teleportation spell.”
“Blast it!” I struck the fallen table with my sword. “We need to get out of here and warn the towns. Can you reach Demris?”
There was a pause, then she shook her head. “No. Something is blocking the bond.”
“I’m having the same problem. I guess we’ll have to flee on foot. Maybe if we go north, we can circle back to where Sion and Demris are.”
Maren nodded, but she seemed troubled.
“I’m sure they’re fine,” I said, though I wasn’t sure I believed the words myself. When we’d encountered the sorcerer’s magic before, it had caused all kinds of issues with our dragons. I assumed this was the same situation.
“It’s not just that,” Maren said. “I—”
A horn blared, followed by goblins pouring into the tent.