“I might as well finish what I started,” scowled Theos. “I am no longer useful to the patriots, but I can save quite a few of them by diminishing the ranks of those they will have to fight later.”
“It was not a request,” retorted the fairy. “Karl is not willing to trade your life for a handful of soldiers. Retreat now!”
“And go where?” argued the raging mage. “They will hunt me down and that will imperil every single patriot.”
“Retreat to the estate,” answered Thimble. “Karl will take care of it from there. Do not delay! You have no time to think about this. Do as you are told.”
Theos sighed wearily as the projectiles continued to smash into his magical shield. He knew that the shields would fail him soon, and the thought of hundreds of soldiers closing in on him shook the rage out of him. He realized that his capture could do as much damage as the capture of Artum, and he vowed not to be taken alive, but he would try to comply with Karl’s directive. With another sigh of defeat, the mage halted his offensive spells. He quickly issued an incantation and a cloud of fog started appearing at his feet. The cloud grew rapidly and within seconds he was unable to see the Old Keep. The shouts of soldiers rang out from every direction, and Theos knew that he had waited too long to retreat. Within seconds, he would be surrounded.
“Drop your shields,” urged the fairy.
“What?” barked the mage.
“Drop your shields,” repeated Thimble, “and keep the fog pouring out.”
Theos shook his head in confusion, but he did as the fairy requested. As soon as the shields were down, he felt his feet leave the ground. Seconds later he heard the impact of two groups of soldiers colliding into each other in the thick fog below him. He listened to their shouted questions, but the sounds diminished as the fairy levitated him higher. In moments, he was standing on the roof of a building.
“Can you fly” chirped the fairy. “Or should I summon Karl’s unicorn for you?”
“I can fly if I transform into a bird,” answered Theos, “but the black-cloaks will probably detect that.”
“They are expecting you to fly away?” questioned the little green man.
“I would if I were in their place,” reasoned Theos. “After abruptly ending my attack, they would assume that I am attempting to flee.”
“Would they still monitor for flying spells if they could see you?” asked the fairy.
“That would be a waste of energy.” Theos shook his head. “But I cannot afford to fly away if they are staring at me. I would be followed and destroyed.”
“Unless what they were staring at was not really you,” grinned Thimble. “You forget that I can cast images of my memories.”
“You would be attacked instantly,” frowned Theos. “I will not risk your life for my foolish actions.”
“I will not be harmed,” boasted the fairy. “I will keep your image just out of range, and I will move it quickly. If your flight is swift, we will both be at Sidney’s estate in moments.”
The mage held a doubtful expression on his face, but the fairy grinned boldly with an aura of confidence that swayed the mage’s decision.
“How long do you need to get outside the fog and set up the illusion?” asked Theos.
“Count to one hundred and then fly like a bird. I will meet you at the estate.”
The fairy leaped into the air, and Theos began counting. An eerie silence had fallen over the central part of the city, a silence broken only occasionally as a soldier’s armor clanged against some unseen obstacle. Before Theos reached one hundred, shouts erupted from the direction of the Old Keep. He clearly heard shouts of his sighting. Still, he waited a few more seconds before casting the spell that would transform him into a bird. Once he was committed to his avian form, Theos flew as fast as he was able. He soared upward through the cloud of fog and angled towards the Gulf of Ur. He did not want to lead them to the merchant’s estate if someone was tracking him. Once he was over the gulf, he dove towards the surface of the water and skimmed over the waves. When he felt he was far enough away from the city, he banked sharply to his right and headed for the coast north of the city. As soon as he was over land, he landed and transformed back into a man. He would have a decent walk ahead of him, but it was worth it to shorten his flight. Plus, if he had been tracked, his landing would take the followers away from Sidney’s estate rather than towards it. He definitely did not want to bring attention to that place. He had already caused too much of a ruckus for the patriots.
The walk to Sidney’s estate was uneventful, but Theos walked slowly and cautiously, always prepared for an ambush. By the time he reached the estate, dusk was upon him. Karl Gree, Captain Marez, and Althea were waiting on the porch for him. None of them spoke until they were all safely inside. Althea sent one of the patriots to cancel the search that had been initiated to find him.
“What took you so long?” asked Karl. “Thimble expected you to be here when he arrived. We thought we had lost you.”
“I flew north in case the black-cloaks were tracking me,” explained the mage. “I didn’t want to lead them here.”
Karl nodded understandingly, but Captain Marez glared at the mage.
“Do you have any idea what you have done today?” snapped the leader of the Tyronian Patriots. “You cost us three good men and stirred up a hornets nest that will keep us hiding for weeks. Mectin will have his men combing the entire city until he finds you.”
“I am truly sorry,” frowned Theos. “I knew that I should not get involved, but once I saw Artum being dragged into the Old Keep, I could not ignore it. His knowledge of the patriots would bring about many deaths of my countrymen. I am sorry, but I would do it again. My only disappointment was that Artum died in my attempt to free him. An archer shot him in the back as he was fleeing.”
“Your only disappointment?” huffed the captain. “You must learn to follow orders and nothing else. Were it not for you, Artum would be alive and well right now.”
A mask of deep sorrow fell over the mage’s face, but the mask was creased with confusion. “King Mectin would not allow Artum to live after he had the demonkin strip his mind. What you are saying makes no sense. And what did you mean by the loss of three men? Artum was the only one they had captured.”
“The two soldiers escorting Artum were our people,” Althea said softly. “Their task was to gain entrance to the Old Keep by dragging in a top-level patriot. Artum volunteered to be the captive. He held barrel weed in his shackled hands.”
A look of shock and pain fell over the mage’s face, and he slumped into the nearest chair and placed his head in his hands. “This is why you asked me for the barrel weed?” he asked with a broken voice. “They were to think he was dead? How would you ever get the body out to feed him the pit berries? Without the pit berries, he would truly die.”
“It was all worked out,” Althea explained. “The two soldiers would take Artum directly to a cell and then report to the king. From what we have been able to learn about the inside of the Old Keep, the cells are in the lowest level, while King Mectin is in one of the highest. The soldiers being unfamiliar with the layout of the keep would naturally get a little lost on the way to reporting to the king. They would eventually be promised their reward and be sent back to bring the prisoner before the king.”
“When it was discovered that the prisoner had died,” added Captain Marez, “the soldiers were to carry the corpse out for burial rather than take him to the king. It was the only feasible way to get Artum out of the keep once we got him inside.”
“Artum would then be fed the pit berries,” interjected Karl, “and the three men would be sent away from the city until after the rebellion.”
“Then I have caused more damage than I could have possibly imagined,” sighed the mage. “I curse this gift of mine. Why couldn’t you have just left me in the battle today? Why couldn’t you have let me die ignorant of my stupidity?”