The Chaos Balance

CXXXII

The mage under the white awning staggered, then steadied himself on the portable white wood table.

“Something…terrible…terrible…” murmured Themphi, looking down at the shards of shattered glass on the white surface. Blood dripped from the gashes in his forehead, leaving watery reddish stains on some of the mirror shards and darker splotches on the chaos-bleached wood.

“What was it?” Fissar stood at his shoulder, proffering a dampened white towel. “The glass shattered. I could feel it.”

“It felt like another, a powerful one, yet it had the feel of the Accursed Forest, and it was closer, far closer-no more than a half-day’s ride to the east.” The white mage blotted away the blood gently, then stopped and extracted another sliver of glass from his hair above his right ear. “Go tell Triendar…”

“Ah…” stammered Fissar as he glanced from Themphi to the wiry white-haired mage who stepped in from the sunlight and under the shade of the awning. “Ah…ser…”

“Tell me what, Themphi? Why is your tent set up? And with what new magery were you toying? I could sense the order-chaos pulses from the marshal’s wagon.”

“None. No new magery. I sensed something…strange, and I set up the tent, just the roof part, you see, so I could concentrate. I was screeing the flank guard. They had encircled someone-no more than four riders. There was a flare of chaos, and my glass exploded.”

Fissar opened his mouth and then closed it.

The balding white-haired mage pursed his lips. “Perhaps Marshal Queras should know this. What happened to the flank guard?”

“I do not know.” Themphi felt sweat mixing with blood, and he carefully resumed blotting away both. “Except I do not think they survived. Neither did the young mage with them.”

Fissar’s mouth opened again.

“With that much of a chaos-order mix, I would think not. Do you have any idea what caused it?” asked Triendar.

“It acted like a mage, but it felt like the Accursed Forest…in a way.” Themphi handed the bloodied towel to Fissar so that he could work a tiny sliver of glass from his left hand.

“You felt that the Accursed Forest has destroyed those lancers?” Triendar frowned. “Even in the ancient times, the forest used animals, not the white forces directly.”

“It was a mage, but not exactly. It was like the forest, but it was not the forest.” Themphi took the towel again, then paused once more to ease out another chunk of bloody glass.

“Are you certain?”

Themphi nodded.

“That could be most worrisome. Have you a spare glass?”

“Yes,” answered the younger mage warily.

“Then try to seek out the cause of this…this problem. Once you know, we will tell the marshal that we think there may be a problem.” Triendar worried at his chin. “You had best hurry. The lancers have finished with the hamlet beyond the rise, and the marshal is having his tent struck.” He paused. “Then, it may be best to wait until morning. We could do little anyway…but do your best to discover the source of this…problem.” Triendar coughed, pursed his lips. “One of our mages?”

“Pirophi, I think.”

“He was always a little oversure, but…still. Do what you can.”

Themphi nodded, then turned to Fissar. The younger man had already opened the small chest beside the portable table.