The Prince's Mark

The Road to Dezmer - Twenty Five

Upon arrival to the manor, Tracou forced everyone to douse themselves in water to get the dust off of them. Because that made it easy to use magic again, Tracou could dry everyone, making the process last only a few minutes. With that done, he ushered everyone into the study. They could at least sit comfortably there, with multiple chairs. Tracou and the elves sat on the bench, with Mirthal in the middle, while the other dezmek sat in chairs across from them.

Out the window, bits of gray still floated downward.

To think that this could happen. He had first kissed Mirthal here. That night had been the best in his life, but mere days later he sat here, heart thudding for entirely different reasons. Compared to the warm lighting he had created that night, the haze outside created a malaise that extended even inside his manor.

"So what are we going to do, Lord Vartanian? Do you have a plan?" Elira asked, the words squeaking out of her mouth.

Tracou grimaced. "No. Do either of you?"

Elira shook her head. Stepan, however, puffed himself up.

"I don't have a plan," he boasted. "But I can tell you where those men are. I sent Tsova out to scout when I saw the dust."

"Tsova?"

"My familiar!"

"And you still have a connection to it?"

"Tsova's been my familiar since I was about your age. She's outlived normal seagulls a few times over by now. Our bond is stronger than that dust!"

If that seagull had been Stepan's familiar for that long, it was possible that the bond had solidified past being active magic. The concepts of active and completed magic were not ones that had been covered by his tutor and were not relevant to magical scholarship in Dezmer at all. Maybe a magical connection that lasted for what was likely at least thirty years could become 'complete,' even though it was to another living creature.

These were things Tracou would have to think about later.

"Okay then, where are they?"

According to Stepan, the Winleans were several miles away from Ergakan as they spoke. The ones on land had no dust to spread, so some had to be on ships. The Winlean infantry force followed the gray.

More importantly, the Winleans numbered at maybe one hundred men. Had those been dezmek, the number would have been pitiful. But that amount of humans approaching them made Tracou want to vomit. Two elves and three dezmek couldn't do anything against numbers like that without magic. His own village had less than two hundred people and a portion of those were children and the elderly.

But Stepan wasn't finished yet. The majority of the humans headed their way were, according to Stepan, "definitely pirates and other criminals." They weren't wearing armor and they just ambled along without discipline. Only perhaps ten men wore armor.

At the pace the Winleans were going, they would arrive in about two hours.

After he translated everything, Tracou let out a long breath.

"So what do we do?"

"We'll need to move quickly. Hiding in those magical buildings of yours is one thing, dezmek, but what will you do if the Winleans set up camp? I don't think you're ready for a siege," Pendaer said.

He was right. Tracou would be fine in his manor for a while, since he kept his food in storerooms in the building, but the others didn't typically have that much food in their homes. When he repeated what Pendaer said to the others, Stepan nodded forcefully.