“I found some shelter,” he tells him. “I left the horses there.”
Nodding, James turns to look at him. “We better get them. This storm isn’t going to last much longer.”
Taking him by the hand, Jiron says, “This way.” As he leads him through the raging storm, the winds that had begun to whip the sand violently begin to gradually subside.
Several mages lie unconscious on the floor around the Table of Sight. The master in charge has been fighting James’ control of the winds until the High Lord Magus arrives. Still an hour behind him, they had begun to be affected by the winds.
The master retains visual lock on their quarry and watches as the other man leads him through the ruins of Baerustin. When they enter the building wherein their horses were left, he sees his chance to hold them until his lord arrives.
Just then, a First Circle mage comes hurrying through the door. “The caravan is here,” he announces.
“Finally,” exclaims the master. “I need them now! Hurry and bring the slaves to me.”
“Yes, sir,” the First says then backs out of the room. He runs down the corridor until he reaches the courtyard outside.
On the far side of the courtyard the porters of the caravan have already begun unloading the various goods purchased by the school. The First comes up to the caravan master and says, “You’re late!”
“My apologies good master,” the caravan master says humbly.
The First notices the pallor of his face. “You don’t look too good,” he states.
“Been feeling down last couple of days,” he explains. “I think the cook used bad meat or something and made us all sick.”
“Where is the cook?” he asks.
“Killed him for poisoning us,” the caravan master replies. “Tossed his body somewhere back along the road.”
“I need the slaves now,” says the First.
“Let us untie them for you,” the caravan master says as he begins to signal to his men.
Shaking his head, the First says, “Never mind that.” Not willing to wait the minutes his men would take, the First uses one of the first spells he ever learned. Summoning the magic, he casts a spell of breaking to free the slaves all at once. The casting of the spell triggers the seeds of destruction which James had planted in the wagon beds a week before.
Ka-Boom! Boom! Boom!
Three massive explosions of immense proportions detonate all at once. The force of it literally takes out a third of the school and collapses the room containing the Table of Sight. Taken unawares, his concentration firmly on what he was about to do to hold James, the master at the Table doesn’t react in time and is crushed by the falling stone of the ceiling. The same stone which takes his life smashes through the Table, destroying it.
Stone and rock launched into the air by the blast begins to fall on the rest of the school. Massive chunks of stone rip through roofs and cause even further damage as buildings which were already weakened by the blast are struck by the falling stone and give way.
One building of particular importance, the library, had been in close proximity to the blast when it went off. Filled with tomes older than memory, the basis for which magic works and knowledge gleaned through a millennium of research, is now nothing more than a gaping hole. Along with the rocks coming back to land, myriad pieces of paper blasted from thousands of books rain down as well.
All of a sudden, the resistance to the storm disappears. “It’s stopped,” James tells Jiron as they enter the building where the horses were left.
“What’s stopped,” asks Jiron.
“It feels like whoever was working against me isn’t any more,” he clarifies. Sending out the magic, he begins working the storm once more into a frenzy.
Realizing James is once again planning on staying and working the storm, Jiron has them move to the back of the room where the horses are to stay. If the storm becomes as bad as the last one James created, he wants them as far away from its effects as they can. James slips back into deep concentration as he resumes intensifying the storm.
After a half hour, the storm is now raging wildly outside. The open areas of the building allow the sand to enter and even though the force of the gale is abated by the walls of the building, still the sand stings when it strikes them. When he feels the storm has reached a point where it will continue on its own, he halts the flow of magic and settles down against one wall.
“That should take care of it,” he says. Taking a water bottle, he drains it completely before setting it down.
The light from the sun is greatly reduced by the time it makes its way through the swirling dust storm outside. With but faint light with which to see, Jiron takes a closer look at the building they are in. The walls are rather plain and unadorned, parts of the floor show through the mounds of sand which has built up over the years.
“Look at this,” he says when he comes to a depression in the floor by the far wall.
“What?” asks James too tired from creating the storm to want to cross the room to see.
“There are stairs here,” he explains. “Choked with dirt and sand.” He then tells him of the dome he found and how he believes there may be more below the surface.
With scenes of movies he’s seen running through his head, he wonders what could lie below the surface. Treasure? A lost city? A thousand mummies hell bent on their destruction? In this world who knows? Intrigued, he gets to his feet and goes over to investigate.
Just then he feels the tingling of nearby magic. Stopping halfway across the floor, he cocks his head to one side as he attempts to discern from which direction it’s coming. He glances to Jiron and whispers, “There’s magic nearby.”
All thoughts of the stairs vanish as they move to the opening and look out. Shielding their eyes from the whipping sand, they search for anyone approaching. It doesn’t take them long before several men appear out of the swirling storm. Each is surrounded by a dimly illuminated shield protecting them from the storm.
“Mages?” asks Jiron.
James nods his head, never taking his eyes off the men coming their way.
The prickling and tingling of working magic gradually increases as the men draw closer. Soon, more forms are seen out there among the ruins, each encased in a protective barrier. They are fanned out in a search pattern, whenever one comes to a wall or opening, they pause a moment to inspect it before continuing on.
“We’ve got to get out of here,” James says as he makes his way to the horses.
Jiron stops him and says, “Leave them. The horses will never survive the storm outside.”
James realizes he’s right. Leaving the horses, he says “Stay close.” A barrier suddenly appears surrounding them both.
“Won’t they sense this?” Jiron asks.
“Probably,” he replies. “But I’m hoping that with all the magic they are doing themselves, they may not realize it’s me until it’s too late.”
Approving of the boldness, Jiron gives him a grin.
“Now, let’s try to get through the storm before they realize we’re gone,” James suggests. He then moves through the wall and starts to move in the opposite direction of the searchers.
Jiron puts a hand on his shoulder and says, “Wait a second. If they’re on foot, then their horses must be left behind. How about we work our way around them and steal a couple of their horses. They would have to be kept outside the worst of the storm.”
He considers the idea and nods, “Alright, we’ll do it.”
Altering their course, they begin working their way away from the searchers. Then after putting some distance between them, they alter their course to run perpendicular to the searchers. They keep an eye out for the telltale sign of men in barriers walking in the storm. Each time one appears, they quickly move back and alter course to avoid them.
A sudden increase in the tingling sensation stops James in his tracks when out of the storm a blinding white light appears and strikes the barrier. The shock of the impact stuns James for a moment and the barrier keeping the storm at bay disappears.