Rory looked frantically from one side of the road to the other, trying to decide if he had enough strength to pull everyone out of the way in one fast sweep. Would he have better luck knocking down soldiers on one side or the other? Could he make a shield to stop --
"Halt!" someone in the Euriday troops shouted. "Lay down arms."
The Euriday army put their weapons at their feet. Everyone stared in a moment of silent shock.
"Retreat twenty."
They retreated with almost the same precision they had used before the confrontation. One man remained behind, though, and Rory guessed who he was before Jamison confirmed it.
"General Unanik," Jamison said, taking one step away from his own group. "I won't begin to guess what is going on."
The Schiwen soldiers had at least lowered their weapons. Not a trusting group, Rory guessed. He kept himself still, standing sideways between the two groups and ready to do something.
"Jamison," Unanik said with a shake of his head. "How in the name of the Gods did you get here and ahead of us -- and without getting killed by the others?"
"Others?" a woman asked as she crossed from her troops.
"There are several companies of Euriday soldiers in the hills around us," Unanik explained. "I assume you are General Junal? I'm General Unanik. I sent you messages, and I assume some got through, or you wouldn't be here."
She gave a quick nod. The two walked off together, which seemed uncommon trust. Rory watched them for a moment and then put a hand on Andora's arm, drawing her attention.
"I need to sit down now," he said. His legs were already going. "Just sit for a while."
"Sit," she agreed and helped him down.
He almost fell face-first into the dirt, but Zorian caught his shoulder. He sat as well, and so did Jamison and Keltrina. Rory almost protested, but at least it would make them look less like trouble -- unlike the two armies still facing each other.
He closed his eyes...
"Priest?" a woman said close by.
Rory opened his eyes. He'd rested for a while, but not nearly long enough. He had trouble lifting his head to look at the woman towering over him.
"General Junal," he finally said with a bow of his head. "Can I be of any help?"
"That's what we're going to find out. Come with me."
Rory struggled to his feet with help from Zorian. Keltrina slept, and Jamison already stood with Unanik. He hoped he had enough ability to think that he could give cognizant answers. Rory thought a couple hours had passed. This could not be the safest place to rest.
"Priest," Junal said as they joined the others. "Let's get straight to the point. What can you do to help us?"
"I can move small numbers of people at great speed for a short distance. I can create illusions for a short time." He almost lifted a hand to create a deer -- but the others were all too nervous for something that showy. "I have some power with weapons, but there is a serious backlash. If I injure someone, as long as I am within a couple miles, I will feel that wound. If they die while I am too close, I will also die."
"That's what happened when you attacked Poltin," Jamison said with a nod. "I thought it was just a reaction from moving so quickly."
"That as well." He stopped to brush both hands through his hair. "I would not be much help for a large group. I might create illusions or perhaps bring up a wind for a short time, but no more than that."
Junal and Unanik gave almost identical nods.
"I have one question if you don't mind?" Rory said, and they both gave tentative nods. "Do either of you know where Prince Palkin might be?"
"We had rumors of him leaving Sundry before we heard about the death of the King. He could be anywhere," Junal admitted, and even she sounded worried. She paused for a moment and stared at nothing in particular. "That means you are best used away from us."
"Perhaps so," he agreed. "And besides, I do have loyalty to my own queen."
"I suppose we should count it good that we're at least allies," Junal said and sounded sincere. "I do not intend --"
Whatever she had meant to say was cut short by a yell from the area where the Euriday troops were still gathered. A horse came galloping through the group, scattering them to each side.
The rider had a sword ready. Rory wasn't sure who the target might be, and he had no time to find out. He simply moved so fast that he didn't even startle the horse before he grabbed the man who tumbled from the saddle.
Then things got out of hand.
Rory had tried to knock the sword away from himself, and he caught the blade's edge with his forearm. It was not a bad cut but painful. Far more painful was the sword severing the other man's arm at the shoulder.
The man screamed. Rory didn't have the breath to make a sound. Agony rushed through his body --
"Damn!" Jamison shouted. "Grab the horse! We need to get Rory away!"
Going to die, he thought. They couldn't keep the man alive, not long enough. Going to die --
Someone threw him across the saddle. A hand caught his collar, and the horse moved. It was fast and painful. He couldn't breathe and wasn't sure if that came from dying or bouncing on the horse.
They kept riding. Fast. Rory feared broken ribs ... and feared dying less. The horse continued to run, following the curve of the road, across a bridge --
And straight into another army, scattering angry men everywhere.
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