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leadership required men who wanted to be led, it also needed a leader with vision and competence—things Garrick did not possess.
    Garrick understood he was the only piece on the board that could stand between the orders and their domination of the plane, but he knew nothing of how to lead men beyond the fact that power corrupts.
    Power bends the people who use it.
    It was the main learning of his life.
    This army stood testimony to the fact that Garrick himself had become a man who used others. They were here for one reason, after all. Take everything else away, and Garrick knew they were here because he had decided to confront the orders.
    What price would these warriors and mages pay for his hubris?
    How bad would it be?
    All he could say for certain was that today he would meet two god-touched mages.
    And, today, he could not win.

Chapter 13

    Darien emerged from his tent and swaggered toward Garrick. The plume at the top of his polished helm blazed in the morning sun. His armor plates gleamed silver.
    “You’ve come a ways from Caledena,” Garrick said.
    “You’re one to speak.”
    They each grinned.
    “We may both be dead before this day is over,” Garrick said.
    “Perhaps,” Darien replied. “But I doubt it.”
    “You are a true optimist, my friend.”
    “Guilty. But I have my reasons. Suni’s mages are rested and our forces are in place. The field scouts suggest that our hidden mages remain undiscovered. My warriors are prepared. And you, Garrick, are rested. We couldn’t ask for more.”
    “It is still not enough,” Garrick replied. He looked at his friend and gave him his confession. “I have no real plan for my part.”
    Darien gave him a sly grin.
    “I’ve seen you work. I have no fears.”
    Garrick raised a doubting eyebrow. “Then perhaps you should be the one to climb the mountain.”
    “If all else fails,” Darien said, “put everything on griffin five.”
    Garrick laughed, and then pursed his lips. “Your father would be proud of you today,” he said in a low voice.
    “One step at a time, Garrick. One step at a time. Speaking of which, it’s time I go check on preparations. Fight well, my friend. I’ll see you this evening.”
    “Aye. Fight well, Darien.”
    He watched as Darien walked among Dorfort’s warriors. His friend spoke quietly with each. He listened to stories about their weapons, and eased their fears.
    Suni, too, spent time among the Freeborn.
    Garrick found himself oddly jealous of them both, but he knew he couldn’t find it within himself to do what they did. Theirs was a true form of leadership, something he did not have.
    Soldiers looked at him with questions in their eyes.
    He went to a kettle and spooned soup into a bowl. He didn’t need to eat, but the act seemed important. The heat of the bowl on his hand made him feel normal. The feel of the spoon felt natural.
    Suddenly, footsteps crashed from the brush behind him.
    Garrick whirled to see a man emerge from a copse of trees. Recognition dawned as he was reaching for his link to the plane of magic. It was the ranger who had saved him in the alleys of Dorfort. The man stood a head taller than Garrick. The muscles on his arms flexed as he hefted a battle-ax. His beard was still bristly, and his bald pate reflected the sun.
    “What are
you
doing here?” Garrick said.
    “Wouldn’t miss this for the world,” the man said.
    Garrick shook his head with wonder. “I am glad you came. Fight well.”
    “You also,” the ranger replied.
    And at that moment, a buzz crossed the field. Horns blew, and warriors grabbed their weapons.
    “Positions!” Darien called, riding forward.
    Suni raced to Garrick. She gripped his upper arm and rose to her toes to let her lips brush his cheek. “Fight well, Garrick,” she said. “Go with good fortune.”
    Then she rushed to her mages.
    Garrick’s hand rose to his cheek as he watched her leave. The sensation of her lips tingled for a long moment. Then he snapped out of it