Free Renegade Wizards by Lucien Soulban Page B

Palanthas wasn’t a reunion to be feared, she told herself. Palanthas was an opportunity to fulfill the wishes of a vindictive street urchin who never had the strength to fight back. She was returning home a conqueror, and as all conquerors are wont to do, she was looking forward to the settling of old scores.

    Par-Salian continued watching her, even after she’d vanished into the night.
    Should I go after her? he wondered. When he was a young man, he’d once courted a woman who flew into tantrums and stormed off. She wanted to be chased and mollified. She wanted the attention regardless of the cost. Par-Salian hesitated. Ladonna was nothing like the women he’d bedded, albeit all those years before. The near two decades of studyand consideration had softened his ardor, and the years had dulled the adventure and romantic zeal from his blood. He questioned himself and his decisions more. In fact, Highmage Astathan’s recent interest in him made him uncomfortable. He knew that the White Robes held some expectations for him, and that frightened him.
    What if I fail?
    What if I’m not up to the task?
    Like tonight, he thought miserably. He had been asked to lead the small expedition and maintain their cohesion. Yet here they were, on their first night alone, and already he could see the schisms forming. Worse, perhaps, nobody wanted to tell him why. Tythonnia was hunting and stewing in her anger, and Ladonna was off somewhere in the darkness, alone with her thoughts. He wanted to help her, to make things better, but her gaze spoke clearly enough. She wanted to be alone. She didn’t need his help. She didn’t need his leadership. She was perfectly fine without him.
    And that troubled him.
    Still, Par-Salian couldn’t leave her alone. The Heartlund countryside wasn’t dangerous aside from the occasional brigand or wandering pack of goblins, but still, the danger was there.
    “Cas mata,”
Par-Salian muttered as his fingers danced and intertwined. He closed his eyes and felt the magic spark along his bones and raise the hair on his arms. A shiver ran its fingers up the nape of his neck, and he opened his cat-slit eyes. The world had become a monotone of green shades, but the horizon of darkness had been pushed back much further than he expected, thanks to the many stars. Off in the distance, he could see Ladonna walking blindly ahead. She must have been several hundred feet away, and in danger of vanishing into the mist that marked the edge of his sight, the mist that seemed to obliterate the world itself.
    Par-Salian stepped forward and matched her progressstep for step. He would not intrude, but neither would he leave her alone.
    It was only in the deepest recesses of his thoughts that he wondered why he was eager to watch over Ladonna and not Tythonnia. Perhaps it was because the Red Robe was familiar with the wilderness, but the answer came after too much searching; it felt too much like a justification. Par-Salian did not dwell upon that, however, and continued following Ladonna. She needed him more than Tythonnia, he reasoned to himself. He was going to help her.

    From the sanctuary of the tall grass, he watched them. The spell of his devising narrowing the distance between Ladonna, Par-Salian, and himself in sight and in sound. He heard them as clearly as his ears heard his own voice, saw them as clearly as his eyes saw his own hand. Despite the mile between them and the shadows of night, he might as well have been standing next to them.
    The Journeyman made himself more comfortable and watched Par-Salian keep Ladonna within sight. He observed Ladonna seated upon a rock, talking to herself. He saw Par-Salian maintain a distant vigil, his gaze scanning for danger but returning more often to study Ladonna. Did he know he was holding his breath when he looked at her?
    Probably not.
    He understood that, the Journeyman did. He knew the history of the two and the events to unfold and shape their lives. But it was