Free Sword of Jashan (Book 2) by Anne Marie Lutz Page B

your father that yourself, Lord Ander. Don’t put this guardsman between you and Lord Zelan’s anger. A king should not do such.”
    Ander’s arrested gaze flew to Callo’s face. The guardsman’s worried eyes did, too. Then the boy said, “I don’t think King Martan would worry about such a thing.”
    Callo shrugged. “That is probably true.”
    Ander threw the book he was holding to the floor. Callo thought Ander went from the shrewd intelligence of a much-older boy back to childhood, in the blink of an eye. Perhaps this was usual for a boy in his teens; yet, these tantrums were not suitable for a King. The memory of King Ar’ok in Las’ash fled across his mind like the shadow of a hawk, bringing doubt with it.
    “Oh, all right,” Ander said. “Obin, I will get my leathers and join Lord Zelan. If I am killed by ambush on this cursed Hunt you can thank yourself, Lord Callo!”
    Callo bowed. Obin’s gaze was grateful. Callo wondered what Zelan would have done to punish him had he not succeeded in bringing the heir back with him. He had never heard ill of Zelan, but the Collared Lords in general were well known for their brutality when their wishes were crossed.
    Callo rode out alone the next morning, refusing any company. He took Miri away from the manse, away from the little villages and their surrounding farmland, and headed up the slopes to the edge of the mountains where the icetigers had come from many years ago. It was deep summer now, so the snow had retreated to the very peaks of the mountains. Thornbushes and weeds blanketed the lower slopes. A hunter’s trail cut through the brush, just wide enough for Miri. It was rarely used now, he thought; Lord Zelan still hunted the big predators as his Collar commanded, but the big hunt parties were a thing of the past. Now it was only Zelan and a couple of aging Hunters, patrolling the area in a fruitless search for the ancient danger.
    Miri was in a fine mood, almost prancing as she took the slope. They were traveling out of the worst of the heat, up into the foothills. After a while the work took the edge off Miri’s restlessness, and the slope grew steeper. Callo continued on, stopping for lunch and to water Miri at a clear stream, then rode another candlemark or so before finding a place that suited him. He dropped Miri’s rein over a tangle of branches and went on a little way, to where a rocky area created a small clearing.
    There he drew his sword. He raised it, saluting Jashan and closing his eyes in a wordless prayer before sheathing it again and settling onto one of the rocks. Then he braced himself and began to relax the internal barrier he had come to depend upon so much.
    Using great care, he allowed the barrier to lower slightly. The twin mage powers rose up, almost eager for release as if they had will of their own. Callo tried to allow just a little of the energy out. He had done something like this once before, after he had defeated the Black Tide—but then Kirian had helped him, and the energies had overcome him anyway as he sought release in sex. Now the strain was worse, much worse. He dared not have anyone around him while he tried this experiment; he was afraid they would not live through it.
    The ku’an magery could be kept back, he thought; after all, he had done so for most of his life. It was the new power, the color magery, that fought his authority. He tried to ease the endless pressure and felt the magery flow out of him into the sunlight. He struggled to release only a little, just enough to save his sanity.
    White light rose behind his eyelids. A river of power flowed, exultant, through his veins and out to his fingertips. He threw back his head in sheer pleasure at the beauty of it as well as the indescribable relief. Just as he began to laugh with the joy of it, the energy shifted, changing from pleasure to fire, and burned an arc of pain through every nerve.
    Callo screamed as he felt the world around him catch fire.
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