Rise of the Mages (Rise of the Mages 2) by Brian W. Foster Read Free Book Online Page B

around the building.
    Dylan had one chance to hit him—a single shot for his life and Xan’s life. A miss by mere inches could alert him to their presence. A shout would mean failure.
    He pointed the tube. The sentry continued slowly forward, cautious but not alarmed. White skin appeared between his helmet and leather armor.
    Dylan aimed and puffed his cheeks. He considered the angle, the distance, the incredibly small sliver of bare flesh. Too much risk. Too little gain.
    He hesitated as the man continued toward the oak. Behind the tree, Brant would be silently screaming for Dylan to take the shot. One chance.
    The tip of the blowgun tracked the guard. A few more feet and he would be able to see Brant. Dylan closed his eyes for an instant. He blew.
    The dart sailed straight and impaled the sentry’s neck. His hand sprung to the wound, and he collapsed to his knees. Brant rushed from his hiding spot and caught the body before it crashed to the leaf-covered ground.
    The other guardsman stuck his head out the opening. “Zack?”
    Dylan didn’t have much time. The guardsman surely couldn’t see Brant given the angle between them, but the man’s suspicions were raised. If he peeked out the door, it would be the end of the rescue mission.
    “Zack! Report.”
    Dylan’s hand shook as he fumbled for the next dart. Brant, disguising his voice, mumbled a curse.
    The guardsman chuckled. “Don’t tell me you tripped. Clumsy oaf.”
    The dart slid into place, and Dylan lined up the end of the tube. The man’s eyes narrowed when no immediate response came to his call. Now or never.
    Dylan puffed. The dart sailed toward the opening. It grazed the side of the guardsman’s face.
    He slapped at the spot as if striking at an insect, and Dylan’s breath caught. The man drew away his fingers and held his palm up. A thin red line traced his chin.
    A single shout would end them.
    The guardsman’s eyes rolled back. He swooned forward and hit the wall with a thud before sliding down to the floor.
    Dylan let out a relieved sigh before rushing to join Brant. They dragged Zack to the front of the jail, and Dylan pocketed the spent dart before they burst inside.
    Xan stared at them with wide eyes. He panned his gaze to the slumped figure in the foyer. “Is he dead?”
    As Brant pulled a ring of keys from the guard’s belt, he explained about the blowgun.
    “You have no idea how good it is to see the both of you,” Xan said.
    Brant unlocked the cell. “You’re not going to start crying, are you?”
    “That’s your move.” Xan grinned as he stepped out. “Remember when your dad caught you sneaking into the girls’ barracks?”
    “I was nine! Give me a break.”
    Dylan shook his head as he gathered the other spent dart from the floor. He was pretty sure that, while Xan’s joking covered nervousness, Brant was genuinely relaxed. How could anyone remain calm in such a situation?
    “What now?” Xan whispered as they all exited.
    “Talk softly.” Brant crept toward the rear of the building and motioned for Xan to follow. “Whispers carry farther than a low voice. And keep your movements natural. Trying to be stealthy draws the eye.”
    The two passed out of sight around the back. Dylan fastened a rope around Zack’s chest and under his arms. Brant and Xan reappeared a few minutes later carrying a wood stand about a man’s height with a stout base and a hook.
    The three lifted Zack high enough for the rope to catch on the hook.
    “It’ll work from a distance,” Xan said. “I assume you have horses.”
    “They’re at the stable,” Brant said.
    “Why didn’t you bring them here?”
    “Do you want to get on with the escape or keep talking endlessly?”
    Xan grinned again. “That’s a stupid question, the answer is obviously …”
    “Talk endlessly,” they said together.
    Brant led them toward the guardsmen’s bunkhouse but on the opposite side of the street. “I grant horses would be faster, but they draw notice.