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SILBRA DAL DIDN’T SEE THE UPTURNED CARRIAGE at first. She was riding between the two sellswords hired by the Guild as bodyguards. Behind her rode the battle mage Raggur Nil, ostensibly assigned by Guild Master Lestralle to make sure she got to Rundlun safely, but more likely conscripted to the month-long journey as punishment for the incident with Bander. A porter named Dun brought up the rear, his clumper pulling a small two-wheeled cart with their supplies.
The group turned a corner and immediately saw what looked to be some sort of carriage mishap.
“Stay back!” shouted Raggur Nil to Silbra Dal as he wheeled his charger around to the front. The two sellswords, a burly veteran fighter named Kray and his apprentice, a ruddy youth named Aethal, quickly dismounted and drew their swords. As trained guards, they were taught to be suspicious, so they scanned the woods on either side of the road.
Silbra Dal ignored the battle mage and walked her horse towards the carriage to get a better look.
Raggur Nil shouted again, but Silbra Dal saw something that drew her closer. It was a red-haired woman in a white dress, lifeless on the ground, pinned beneath the carriage. The woman’s dress bloomed with blood.
“Come!” Silbra Dal called. “There is someone trapped beneath.”
The battle mage dismounted and raced over. Kray shouted to his apprentice to keep watch and strode towards the carriage. Raggur Nil got there first, but he ignored the carriage. Instead he grabbed the reins of Silbra Dal’s mount and began to lead the horse away.
“I am fine,” Silbra Dal protested. “But that woman may need—
“Silence!” the battle mage cut her off. “The men will—”
At that point, there was a muffled crack and Kray staggered back from the carriage as a cloud of fine yellow dust—almost like pollen—billowed out and enveloped him. The man began to cough violently as he fell to his knees.
“Master!” exclaimed Aethal, sprinting to Kray’s aid. Before he could reach the older man, the woman in white suddenly came alive—jumping to her feet in an acrobatic twist, a blackjack appearing in her hands. She smashed the weapon against the side of Kray’s head and knocked him into unconsciousness.
Aethal roared in anger and charged the woman. She twisted to evade him, but became caught up in her dress. Whipping the blackjack around, she almost connected with his head, but the warrior blocked the blow. He retaliated with a powerful backhand smash which sent the woman sprawling. He was on her instantly, dragging her up from the ground and lifting her off her feet. The woman kicked and scrambled for something within the folds of her dress, but then Aethal flung her against the overturned carriage with all his might. As she crumpled into unconsciousness, there was another crack and a toxic cloud of yellow dust puffed out from a broken vial in the woman’s hand and swirled around Aethal. Like his master, he collapsed in a fit of coughing and retching. Seemingly from nowhere, a dart struck him in the neck, and he sprawled to the ground.
At the same time, another dart flew towards the battle mage who stood across the road observing the melee. But Raggur Nil was prepared. He cast a push spell which knocked the projectile away. “Protect!” he screamed to Silbra Dal.
She immediately conjured a glowing sphere of protection around them, crackling with energy. Her gelding, which (as she discovered that very moment) was not a trained mage horse, neighed in terror and bucked up, bolting to escape. Silbra Dal tumbled off the animal but luckily was immediately caught by Raggur Nil’s slow spell which allowed her to fall gently to the ground like a feather.
But at the same time Silbra Dal hit the ground, two, then four, then six glass ampules shattered against the hard packed dirt of the Northway and released fine powdered mireo spores into the air. The yellow cloud swirled up, but then, as quickly as it appeared, was dissipated by the conjured wind of Raggur Nil’s buffet spell.
“Any more games?” the battle mage called in a loud, taunting voice. “Whoever you are.”
At that moment, two more darts whizzed through the air at Raggur Nil, but he still wielded the wind as a weapon, and caused the darts to tumble to the ground. “Show yourself, cowards!” But the only response was from the wind whistling through the trees.
Silbra Dal tried to calm herself and took measure of their situation. The porter had fled. Both sellswords were down; either dead or unconscious. She and Raggur Nil were being attacked in a most unusual manner. As an academic, Silbra Dal was a stranger to battle magic. Of course, like every mage, she knew the defensive spells, and had trained in the Changing school, but she was not experienced in using her powers to cause bodily harm. She also lacked the innate reservoirs of magical stamina necessary for combat. In situations like these, non-combat mages were trained to preserve their own lives, preferably by fleeing.
Raggur Nil, on the other hand, had a different set of priorities. His first duty was supposed to be to protect Silbra Dal, however he had an arrogant streak. It was clear to Silbra Dal that the battle mage viewed this attack as a personal challenge. And he was not about to let himself be bested.
The mage was lost in thought for several moments, but then his eyes flashed with realization. He strode over to the carriage. Silbra Dal watched as he nudged the unconscious woman with his foot.
“Can you cast another sphere?” he muttered nearly under his breath.
Silbra Dal nodded.
“Be ready.” And then in a much louder voice, Raggur Nil shouted “Let us watch as this fine carriage burns!” He reached behind his back and loosed the jagged bonesword scabbarded there. In one fluid motion, he slashed in the air and the bone blade of the sword erupted in swirling tongues of magical blue flame. The mage raised the flaming sword over his head and began to bring it down upon the carriage.
“Stop!” a powerful voice called. It was a voice that Silbra Dal recognized: the voice of Bander.