those men down there start fighting amongst themselves.”
“Wouldn’t that be nice,” Anatoly said.
“In the meantime, we should probably proceed as planned,” Magda said, pointing to the base of the mountain range below them. “It looks like they’ve assembled a hunting party.”
“It was only a matter of time,” Anatoly said, “especially if that really was their commanding general.”
“Given his weapons and armor, I would say it’s highly likely,” Magda said.
“Shame we didn’t have more time with him,” Anatoly said.
“Before this is over you may get your wish,” Magda said. “It looks like his adjunct is leading the hunting party.”
“How can you see him from here?” Anatoly said.
“Magic.”
Anatoly grunted, turning toward the mountain slope leading up to the snowcapped peaks above.
Less than an hour later a shadow passed overhead. Anatoly spun his war axe into his hands as Magda began casting a spell. Flying overhead was one of the half-man, half-dragon creatures that had helped abduct Abigail from Fellenden. It roared but didn’t attack, instead taking up a wide orbit high overhead, marking their position for the hunting party.
Anatoly slung his axe and withdrew Abigail’s bow from its carrying case on his back. “I’ve never been very good with a bow, but I might be able to take that thing down with this.”
“Perhaps we can lure the others into an ambush,” Magda said.
“What did you have in mind?”
She pointed to a rocky outcropping overlooking the trail they were following. “From there I can eliminate most, if not all of the pursuing soldiers, provided I have a few minutes of uninterrupted time to cast my spell.”
“You’re sure?” Anatoly asked. “If your spell doesn’t work, we’ll be trapped.”
“I’m sure, except for that one,” she said, pointing to the creature flying overhead. “My spell will have no effect on it, so you may want to keep that bow handy.”
“All right then, we’d better get into position.”
They climbed to the top of the outcropping and cleared the area of debris so they could find firm footing, and then they waited, Magda watching the trail below, and Anatoly watching the creature floating above them, Abigail’s bow in hand, an arrow nocked and ready.
An hour passed before they heard the sounds of men drifting through the crisp air. A few minutes later, the first of the hunting party rounded the corner, coming into view. Magda began her spell. The creature above called out again, alerting the hunters to their presence.
Twenty men fanned out in the narrow confines of the mountain pass. Magda continued to focus on her spell.
The nearest man raised his bow and sent an arrow at them but it fell short. They began to approach the base of the outcropping, looking for a way to climb to the top, while the leader, armed with his dragon-scale shield and finely crafted long sword, stood back, watching his men approach their quarry.
Anatoly looked over at Magda, who was lost in the concentration needed for her spell. He shrugged to himself as he raised Abigail’s bow, taking aim at the creature floating overhead. The bow drew easily, he sighted down the length of the arrow, leading the creature as it glided on the cool mountain air … then he released. The arrow flew true but the creature saw it coming and rolled away from it with just inches to spare. Anatoly frowned, looking down at the men approaching the outcropping. Then he drew another arrow.
Magda stretched out both hands and continued her spell. A minute had passed since she began, maybe two, and still she chanted under her breath. Anatoly could almost feel the coiled rage building within her as she projected her vision of the moments to come into the firmament, demanding that it bend the rules of reality to her will.
A man below shouted to his companions, pointing to the path leading to the top of the outcropping. The men began to move toward the path, clustering together as they did.
Magda paused, closing her eyes for a moment, then opening them as she spoke a single forceful word. A tattered bolt of unnatural grey energy shot forth from her outstretched hands and struck the ground in the center of the cluster of men. From the point of impact, the ground took on the same unnatural grey tinge in an expanding circle. It was forty feet across when it stopped a moment later. All of the men looked down expectantly, but none were close enough to the edge of the circle to act, even if they’d had the