Free Target Of The Orders (Book 3) by Ron Collins Page A

on the porch, her father and brothers a short distance away.
    Will sobbed in the distance.
    The boy was kneeling beside Kalomar, resting his hand on the horse’s flanks.
    “Come on, boy,” he said in a tiny voice. “You can do it. Get up, boy.”
    Garrick’s heart twisted.
    Kalomar was badly burned. Blood glistened from his flank, and a hole as big around as Garrick’s fist was burned into the thick muscles of the animal’s chest, the same muscles Garrick had marveled at as Kalomar had climbed mountain passes, the same muscles that had flowed so fluidly under him as the horse had carried him across the dry desert of Arderveer.
    The animal’s proud eyes were still open, but his heart lay motionless inside his chest. Kalomar’s ears were pinned back, though—even in death, nothing could stop him from getting where he was planning to go.
    “Can you save him?” Will asked.
    His small hand gripped Garrick’s arm with firm desperation.
    “Save him, Garrick, sir. Save him.”
    Garrick kneeled down to lay a hand on Kalomar’s shoulder. He shook his head.
    “It’s too late,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
    Will threw himself on top of the horse and cried.
    “What have I done?” Garrick said. “What have I done?”
    “I’ll tell you what you’ve done,” a female voice said.
    Sunathri stepped from the forest, a thin sword hanging from her hip and a group of Freeborn behind her.
    “You’ve just destroyed the most powerful collection of Lectodinian mages to the east of the desert.”

Epilogue

    Garrick sat alone on a granite boulder in a secluded glade.
    To the rest of the world, the morning dawned blue and fresh. Across the glade, a patch of clover was green in the blazing sun. Birds called and fresh breeze rustled through trees. The aroma of wild boar roasting on the Freeborn’s spit wafted from the distance.
    But for Garrick there was only pain, remorse, and the sense of loss he felt with every turn of the life force inside him. The feather thin touch of Arianna’s essence seeped through that pool to brush against his chest. She would dissipate soon. Then she would be gone like all the others. He had destroyed her—as he had destroyed her family—yet now she flowed inside him, so coyly yet so clearly there, reminding him of what a beast he was. But, despite the pain his actions brought him, the life energy also flowed with such strength that he could not deny the glory of the day around him.
    It was all such a terrible confusion.
    Darien came across the clearing to sit beside him.
    “I cannot live like this,” Garrick finally said. The words were like bones in his throat.
    “I understand.”
    “You can’t possibly understand.”
    “It was outside your control.”
    “You’re not helping.”
    Sunathri came to the conversation, sitting to Garrick’s left.
    “It will come,” she said. “Your control. It will come.”
    “You don’t see their faces,” Garrick replied, shaking his head. “You don’t feel their lives as you rip them …”
    “You spared the young girl.”
    “And what a gift I have left for her, eh?”
    Sunathri placed her hand on his shoulder. Her touch drew at his life force.
    He looked at Will, who stood currying a horse in the distance. He would have to find some way to protect the boy.
    “You know this isn’t finished,” he said. “Elman is dead, but the orders will hunt me until it’s over.”
    “Yes, they will,” Darien replied.
    “I’m going to stop this now.”
    Darien and Sunathri exchanged hesitant glances.
    “What are you saying?” Sunathri said.
    “I’m saying I’ll not be made a pawn any longer. The planewalkers cannot get away with this. Braxidane cannot make me do this. The orders have god-touched mages. I’m going to confront them. I’m going to end this one way or the other. I’m going to find them, now.”
    “Don’t be stupid, Garrick,” Darien replied.
    “Stupid or not, this needs to happen. This is killing me.”
    “A direct confrontation