Scholar of Magic (Art of the Adept #3) - Michael G. Manning Page 0,36

Laina shook her head. “You pulled your sword out, then she shot you. I saw it.”

A new voice entered the conversation. “I was going to shoot him anyway.” It was Darla. Her words were clear though her voice was weak. “I thought he was after you. We misunderstood each other.”

Laina went on, “But you did save her life, so perhaps we can pretend it didn’t happen.”

His sarcasm was thick as he accepted. “That’s very gracious of you.” He froze as his eyes caught a flash of turyn across the street, from not one, but four separate places. Four men appeared, rising from the ground as though it was no more solid than water. Each of them had three elementals, one of earth, one of fire, and one of air. They were dressed in dark gray tunics that covered what was probably a chain shirt and gambeson beneath. More people? How many were watching this house?

The men moved cautiously toward him, taking different vectors so he couldn’t keep his eyes on all of them. “Put the sword down and kneel,” ordered one of them in an authoritative tone.

Will got quickly to his feet. The gate that opened into Laina’s front yard was still open. He moved in front of the two women and spoke to Laina from one side of his mouth. “Help Darla inside and close the gate.”

“Neither of you move,” barked the stranger, then he focused on Will again. “Don’t make me repeat myself. Drop the weapon and kneel, now!”

He was moving his head back and forth, trying to keep all of them in sight, though it was impossible. “Or what? Who are you?”

“Your worst nightmare, child. Surrender or you might not walk away from this.” The man was close enough that Will could see his eyes now—they were cold and hard.

“I’ve seen several nightmares. You aren’t even close to making my list,” Will shot back.

Laina’s hand touched his arm. “Will, stop. They’re the king’s men, the Driven.”

He had no idea what that meant, but her tone implied they were part of some special force. “They aren’t wearing any livery or insignia,” he replied cautiously, weighing his options. He didn’t want to fight if they were servants of the king, but he still wasn’t convinced.

“Enough of this,” said the commander impatiently. In the blink of an eye a source-link snapped out, and to Will’s surprise, managed to connect to him.

Without thinking, he snarled and wrested control of the link away from the man. He paralyzed the fellow before he could react and watched him fall, feeling a sense of satisfaction. One of the others sent something hard flying at his head, but he blocked it with a point-defense shield and then turned to drive his sword at the man who was rushing at his back. Almost by pure chance, his blade skipped up the front of the man’s chest and sank into his unarmored throat. The unfortunate soldier fell back, blood spraying from the wound.

The fourth was about to unleash a spell, something involving air from what Will could see, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. If it’s a wind-wall or something similar I’m dead, he thought grimly as he tried to create a force-lance, but he knew he’d be a second too late.

“Unleash that spell on my son-in-law and I’ll see you dead, lieutenant.” The voice belonged to a fifth man, who had only now chosen to reveal himself, rising from the ground just as the other had before. It was the king.

Will didn’t know whether to be relieved or terrified. This can’t be happening.

King Lognion walked resolutely toward them and the remaining soldiers—the two who weren’t wounded or paralyzed—became still while somehow also conveying a sense of respect and deference to their sovereign. From the corner of his eye Will saw Laina drop into a deep curtsey.

The king’s eyes flicked down to take note of the burning corpse and the man hemorrhaging from his throat. The one who was bleeding had already lost consciousness and would probably be dead in another minute at best. Then Lognion’s eyes went to the paralyzed commander before finally coming to rest on