In short, wise men, especially wise old men, avoided conflicts. The Young Mage was forcing a conflict. Damon was a little too eager to fight, and while he understood how to push back against the Young Mage, he didn’t know how to be ruthless enough to win.
Knowing two key things could tip the balance in a battle. We knew three. The Young Mage was probably no older than twenty, he was scared of the dragon, and he hadn’t yet faced his mortality. Those three things could be used against him—but Damon had pushed too far.
The Slave-Master said to Emma, “I doubt I could get ten silver coins for you on the auction blocks.”
“I know what you’re trying to do,” the Young Mage said with a measure of heat and anger.
The Slave-Master chuckled, which was an ugly sound.
“You think this is funny?”
“I do,” the Slave-Master admitted. “You believe we are so stupid we came here unprepared and knowing nothing. You overheard some things that we intended you to hear, and not others. Those are what you should worry about.”
“Like what?” the irritation in the boy was evident, as was that the Slave-Master was prodding him like a herdsman directing his cows to pasture.
“Like you know that Damon can speak with his mind to Anna. He once tried it with you, and it didn’t work, but if I was you, I’d ask myself who else he has been mind-speaking with? Who else knows all he knows?”
There was an uncomfortable pause before the Young Mage asked, “What else?”
“Well, you might ask how that might harm you, or how Kendra is sitting there composed while directing her dragon to do who knows what? It has already destroyed two cities, what’s another? Especially if you’re in it.”
“What if I’m not?”
“Well, that is a little better, if you ask me, but not much. Once the city burns, everyone will leave, including farmers. Where will your food come from? And if you go into public, who is waiting to put an arrow or knife in you once word of what you’ve done leaks. Of course, we’ll see to that. We will tell everyone in five kingdoms who you are and what you’ve done. That way, if we don’t kill you, someone else will.”
“You don’t know anything.”
The Slave-Master said, “I do know this. The more you talk with us, the easier the dragon can find you, and you won’t even know it’s coming because you’re too busy making an image of a little girl for us to watch.”
Emma winked out of existence.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Damon
Once the Slave-Master started talking, the Young Mage had become confused at his abruptness and was intimidated by him as well as me, although my magic was small in comparison. He didn’t like that I had any magic, I suspected. He was suspicious and wary. While I had watched Emma, I had considered touching minds with Anna for her assessment, but decided against it, in case we were overheard, if that’s the correct way of putting it with speaking directly from one mind to another.
Besides, the Slave-Master was as much as playing a game of blocks with the Young Mage, bluffing with a weak hand masterfully. He pretended as if we were in a better position—and did it masterfully. My respect for the man grew.
Princess Elizabeth saw it too. Her hesitant stance revealed her thoughts. We held little power, the Young Mage held it all, but he was unsure of himself because of the act the Slave-Master put on. The Young Mage was afraid to act like so many young people, afraid to make a mistake and appear weak or worse, silly. He had yet to gain the self-assurance that comes with age. And he revealed that he was not only scared of the dragon; he was terrified.
Again, I wondered at his reaction. We believed magic was connected to the last dragon, and while Wyverns also shared Essence, they contained far less. So, in one respect, he needed the dragon for more power. In another, he feared it. Either we were wrong on some basic point, or there was more we didn’t know or understand.
Elizabeth said, “Three things for us to remember and work with. He’s young, scared, and overconfident. How can we put those things to use?”
The Slave-Master turned to her. “I think he will leave us alone if we depart for another kingdom, at least for a while, especially all of you. That’s been his main consideration the entire time. He does not want us, or the dragon, entering Kaon. I think he will bargain.”
Elizabeth’s voice rose. “So, you suggest we go away and use our time to make better plans before returning to fight him? Or before he comes after us and our kingdom and kills all royals? You’re suggesting we go home and just sit and wait for the day we know he will come and kill us?”
“No,” Kendra almost shouted.
“Why not?” Elizabeth asked, not reacting to the emotion in Kendra’s voice because she was watching the Slave-master closely. She wanted him to reveal more about himself. She didn’t fully trust him.
Kendra was on her feet and suddenly moved closer to Elizabeth than was acceptable in polite society. I hadn’t seen her move, but she was standing nose to nose with her. Kendra said, “Because that’s what he wants. The Young Mage wants us to leave him alone. While we’re somewhere else planning how to defeat him, he will be planning how to defeat us, and he has all the power on his side.”
My sister was right. We were still camped not far from the Waystone on the ridge that had allowed a mage to watch us approach from across the desert. It was a crossroad for us. Whichever direction we took would determine our futures, and the campfire had been fed continuously while we discussed our options, until only a few small sticks remained to be burned.
As with most campers, we normally went to sleep shortly after dark, but tonight was different. It was in the air. We all felt it. Tensions were high. We’d all taken turns searching for wood to burn, scavenging what we could find on the hillside. The scant amount nearby meant we would either search out in the darkness or go without fire soon.
I surreptitiously looked at each of my companions. All were tired, dressed in rags, thinner than a few weeks ago, and weary. Our minds were much the same, but all were determined to continue to Kaon to fight the Young Mage.
A chill in the night air didn’t deter us. Blankets were over our shoulders. We needed a plan of attack, but devising one against a magical being, or a being who used magic, whichever he was, was not easy. There might only be one chance for us to succeed. Delaying was a distinct possibility because at least we could search for more information—the one thing we lacked.
The Slave-Master pointed north and said, “Ahead, in Kaon, we will all probably die. Are you prepared for that?”
Flier said, “Don’t forget, the Young Mage has my family, and your friend, Avery. He will widen his net and take more prisoners, like the family of the princess. He will hold them hostage until he is ready to conquer us or kill them. Only the Slave-Master is immune from that threat.”
“Not true. I have a sister in Kaon. Nobody is aware of that, I hope, especially him. I am sharing that information in good faith and to convince you of my sincerity.”
A few hundred steps away a slave cried out in pain. The muffled grunt of a Kaon guard sounded, and the quiet of the desert returned. We were restrained, almost used to ignoring their pain and suffering in favor of fighting the Young Mage and hopefully ending slavery.