Free First Comes The One Who Wanders by Lynette S. Jones

war. In the Crafter Wars he'd been Greyan's right hand, but he hadn't taken up a cause and fought since then. He was content to wander and fight small battles for unworthy people in need.
    Teran had spoken of the old crafter, simply because he'd been around for so many years and had seen many of the same struggles as had Teran. They'd spoken of all the old crafters who were still alive. Joshuas had never been considered a threat or even a player in the game they'd begun today.
    Why was he here today and why had he chosen to help the queen and her children escape? This question deserved some attention as well, if they managed to escape his crafters.
    Jayram stepped into the ruined anteroom of the School of Sky and shuddered. Despite the defilement they'd wrought on this place earlier in the day, it still reeked of light magic. He couldn’t stay here long. Darryl would have to celebrate his victory without him. He'd go back to the Forest of Furlin, where the center of his powers lay. Perhaps then, Leilas wouldn't be able to defy him. It must be the influence of the power here that was allowing her to protect herself against him. She couldn't be strong enough to do it on her own.
    "She could be strong enough," a voice croaked in the darkness. "It would be unwise to misjudge her." Mandrak stepped from the shadows, his clothes in tatters.
    Jayram grimaced and tightened the reign on his thoughts. He despised that this old man could read them so easily. He was, after all, just a scribe.
    "What are you doing here Mandrak? Don't think that because I spared your life I want you here with me."
    "Where else am I to go right now? If I step out of these rooms, Darryl's men will kill me. I'm forced to accept your protection, whether you give it willingly or not. I know you won't try to kill me. What would Teran think if he heard you allowed one of his scribes to be killed?"
    "Don't presume to know me, old man."
    "I presume very little. Only that once you offered me sanctuary, I was safe as long as I stayed within the circle of your power. I'll leave you when it's safe."
    "To go and give account of my actions to the Guild, no doubt."
    "Do you care what I tell the Guild? You are after all, a crafter, not a scribe." Jayram cursed silently again at this old man's uncanny ability to read his thoughts. "I'll convey to them what happened here today and your part in it. You've seriously damaged our plans."
    "I care nothing for any plans the Guild may have."
    "You made that quite clear today. Is that the message you want me to give to Teran?"
    "You may tell him whatever you feel is important."
    Mandrak clasped his hands in front of his abdomen and pursed his lips. "Leilas has great ability as a crafter. We've been watching her as she's progressed. She's quite gifted."
    "She may have talents. But I'm stronger. I've never met anyone who can match my strength." Jayram waved away the suggestion. "She is unimportant. Besides my men will have captured them before the night is over and Darryl will murder them within a week."
    Mandrak threw a few gold coins on the charred counter in front of them. "I'll take that bet. I personally have met several crafters I think are as gifted as you. Leilas Leyson could be another."
    "I want you out of Dirth by tomorrow," said Jayram angrily, his eyes glowing red. "If you aren't gone, I'll no longer protect you."
    Mandrak laughed and picked up his gold coins. "I'll leave when it's safe."
    Jayram roared in anger at the scribe’s insolence and let his anger translate into action. Mandrak fell backward as he was attacked with a burning white light, screaming in pain.
    "I want you gone, now," growled Jayram. "Next time you try to defy me; you won't live to regret it."
    Mandrak struggled to his feet, holding his damaged face in his hands and faded back into the darkness from which he'd emerged.
    ~~~
    Leilas felt herself jerked away from the path she was creating in her mind by a presence that was quickly becoming too powerful