When they crossed the border it felt like the temperature dropped twenty degrees. The wind blew waves of loose snow, obscuring their vision beyond forty feet. The Ice Queen’s magic controlled the weather, hindering her enemies and aiding her own forces. Only a dragon had that much power. The kingdom was fortunate she’d never come against them herself. If that ever changed he feared for their survival.
They’d been running at a brisk pace all morning, Damien’s power allowing them to travel on the surface of the snow. They’d seen no signs of ogres or ice trolls; the general’s information looked good. If he was right about the locations of the supply depots it would make their jobs a lot easier. Hunting around in a blizzard would be a miserable process.
“Can anyone tell where the hell we are?” Talon asked.
“I’m not sure.” Jen squinted into the wind. “But we’ve got to be within a mile of the first depot.”
“Want me to see if I can find it?” Damien asked.
Jen nodded and Damien conjured a remote viewing construct. Instead of a bug this time he conjured an invisible sphere and sent it flying in the direction they believed the depot lay. The rest of the squad gathered around to watch. For several minutes the only images the sphere sent back were white and empty. As Damien guided it through the empty terrain he passed something dark.
With a thought he moved it back. The dark object turned out to be the head of an ogre. Beyond the ogre several large tents sat in a clearing free of wind and snow. The orb circled the clearing revealing seven more ogres guarding the tents. They had found the depot. Jen clapped him on the shoulder.
Following the link to his orb, Damien led the squad to their target. They crouched forty yards away from the clearing. It looked like someone had set up an invisible wall blocking the storm.
It wasn’t fair.
Still, the blowing snow made for good cover, allowing them to approach without the ogres noticing. Jen used hand gestures to direct her squad to surround the depot.
“What should I do?” Damien asked.
“Wait here and keep your eyes open. We can handle eight ogres. I just don’t want anything sneaking up on us.”
She waited a full minute, let out a shrill whistle, and charged, drawing her sword as she went. Damien stepped out of the storm to better watch. Before he got clear of the wind the first ogre lay in two pieces in the snow, staining it red. Their speed and strength enhanced by soul force, the warlords finished the guards in less than a minute. It was an impressive bit of work. The power of a warlord never ceased to amaze Damien.
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He ambled into the clearing in time to see Jen flick the blood off her sword and slip it into the sheath on her back.
“How did it work?” Damien asked.
“Like a dream. It cut through them with hardly any resistance.”
Talon slashed open one of the tents, revealing rows of heavy spears standing upright in wooden racks. The next tent held slabs of meat—no one wanted to inquire too closely about type—hanging from what looked like a clothesline. They tore open the other tents and found either weapons or food in each of them.
“What now?” Edward asked. “We can’t exactly make a fire out in the snow.”
“I’ll handle it.” Damien conjured bubbles around the tents and yanked them together in the center of the clearing, merging the bubbles into one. He drew a heavy portion of soul force and squeezed. The bubble shrank to the size of a large boulder, crushing everything inside and fusing it together in a solid mass. The bubble shifted, turning into a catapult with the crushed supplies as the stone. Damien launched the mass out into the storm where it vanished.
He dusted off his hands, reabsorbed the leftover energy, and grinned. “All done. Where’s the next depot?”
They set out for the next target but it was too far away to reach before dark. They made camp in the storm. Talon found a stand of spruces that cut the wind a little and Damien augmented it with an invisible barrier that blocked both the wind and the light of the little fire they made from dry branches broken off the nearby trees.
Damien reclined on a bed of soul force while Rhys fixed them a warm meal, the savory scent of simmering meat mixing with the smoke from the fire. It was nice, feeling like part of a group. His solitary studies at the tower and later spending months alone forging Jen’s sword had denied him that camaraderie. He hadn’t realized how much he missed being part of a team.
Jen came over and he conjured a replica of the couch in their quarters for her to sit on. She sprawled on it, one leg hanging over the arm. “You have a thoughtful look, little brother.”
“Just enjoying the moment. I never realized how much sorcerers did alone. I think I prefer being part of a team.”
She nodded. “That’s left over from your time at The Citadel. Warlords are trained to fight for the person beside them. When you’re alone you have no one to fight for.”
“I suppose. I—” He sat up. Something powerful was nearby.
Damien scrambled to his feet, trying to locate the source. He moved around the camp, ignoring the confused looks from the others.
Where was it?
The power felt defused rather than focused like a sorcerer’s conjuring. He stopped.
There!
East and a little north. It wasn’t too close, but it wasn’t that far either.
“What is it, Damien?” Jen stood beside him, squinting into the storm outside their shelter, trying to see what he saw. She could strain as hard as she wanted. What Damien sensed wasn’t visible to anyone besides a sorcerer.
“Power, lots of it. Headed toward our lines. It’s still a ways out, but in a day, maybe two, it’ll reach our people, assuming it doesn’t change course. I can’t get a fix on it. We need to check it out.”
“It’s dark and there’s a blizzard. We’re more likely to get lost than find something in this storm. Let’s wait until morning and if you still sense it we’ll investigate.”
Damien wanted to argue, but Jen made a good point. They’d be able to tell more in the morning, though she was wrong about them getting lost. He could follow something that powerful blindfolded.