Free Ordermaster by L. E. Modesitt Page A

away.
        "Where is Yarak? Alborak is barely a wizard. That mage of Ghrant's could be more than he can handle."
        "Yarak had another task. He went to make sure that our plans are not revealed. What Ghrant's mage can do is limited. He is black, not white." There was a laugh. "Kenslan, you worry too much."
        "Malcor, you worry too little. I have good reports on what that mage did. That's why I suggested to Fostak that a stronger wizard would be necessary if we were to be successful. And you sent him off on this .. . fool's errand."
    "Vatoran was the fool."
       Kharl nodded. There were only two men in the tent, and they were Malcor and Kenslan. He took a slow deep breath and concentrated, forming an impermeable barrier of hard air around each lord.
    All sound from within the tent stopped.
        Kharl felt light-headed, but continued to hold the hardened air barrier around the two lords.
    At last came one red-tinged void of death, then another.
     
        Kharl immediately released the barrier. From inside the tent came two dull thuds, followed by a muffled crash.
        The mage found himself trembling once more. The effort to remove the two rebel leaders, combined with the requirement to keep himself shielded, had once more left his legs feeling like jelly. That wouldn't do, not when he had a good five kays to walk back to the crossroads-avoiding armsmen the entire way and going much of the distance without being able to see and having to rely on his order-senses to navigate.
    Besides, it would only be moments before the guards raised an alarm.
        Kharl forced himself to move quickly back the way he had come, but he had covered less than a handful of rods before he heard the yelling, although he could not make out the words.
        He kept walking, as fast as he could, knowing that he could not cover as much ground as he needed at any faster pace. He'd known that using magery would take strength, but what choice had he had? He'd have to practice more in the future. He couldn't afford to be tired so quickly, not when he had to deal with Lord Ghrant's enemies one at a time.
        By the time he reached the southeast edge of the meadow and the hedgerow where he'd stopped before, he was staggering, and he was so light-headed he wasn't certain how much longer he could even hold his sight shield.
        Like it or not, he had to rest, even on the matted wet grass and dirt in the small niche in the hedgerow. He released the sight shield and sank onto the damp soil behind the twisted branches and winter foliage, which offered but minimal cover.
        His fingers trembled as he fumbled out the water bottle. The water helped some. He only had one biscuit left, and half of a dried apple slice. He ate both, then just sat there, breathing hard.
        The rain was coming down more heavily, and water drizzled off the branches overhead and down the back of his neck. He could hear and sense more yells, orders being barked. Before long, if someone hadn't started looking already, they would be looking for traces, and they well might find his boot prints. Or someone might think about a tracking dog. The rain and the imprints of other boots might confuse them, but Kharl couldn't count on that.
    He wasn't quite so light-headed.
        He glanced around, looking to the orchard and toward the sentries and the stone wall. The rain made it harder to see clearly, and no one was
       
    nearby, not that he could see. He decided against raising the sight shield. It was tiring, and he might need it more later.
        He stepped around the end of the hedgerow and began to walk quickly toward the stone wall, as if he were headed on an errand or carrying a message. That was safer than skulking from tree to tree and looking guilty. Besides, with the mist and rain, at a distance his riding jacket was not that different from those of the rebels, and the black trousers were the same. The sentries most likely wouldn't look