The Magelands Epic: Storm Mage (Book 6)

by Christopher Mitchell

  The sun was low in the western sky as he pushed the empty wheelbarrow back to the tavern for what seemed the hundredth time that day. Many glances were sent his way, along with a few outright stares, but he ignored them, his head down. He reached the yard and staggered to the large water-butt by the corner of the tavern, reaching in with his arms and splashing his face.

  ‘Here you go,’ said Kelsey.

  He turned and took the mug his sister was holding out for him. She had a long apron on, tied with string round her waist and her wild hair was pulled back into a ponytail.

  ‘This is ale,’ he said, sniffing the mug.

  ‘Praise the fates!’ Kelsey cried. ‘Well done, brother, for it is indeed ale. I knew all those people who said you were stupid were wrong.’

  He smiled, unable in his exhaustion to think of anything to say back. He took a drink.

  ‘Well, I’ve been a busy little bee myself today,’ she went on. ‘Nothing of course to match your physical exertions, but I’ve made myself useful. I’ve chopped and peeled, scrubbed and mopped, fried and boiled, and generally ingratiated myself with the stout-hearted owners of this fine establishment.’

  He sighed and sat on a low stool, glancing at the pile of rubble that still had to be ferried to the other side of the village. Despite his efforts, more than half remained. Tilda walked outside with a smile on her face. She offered a cigarette to Keir and lit one for herself.

  ‘A grand job, son,’ she said. ‘You can finish the rest tomorrow.’

  ‘Tomorrow? Are we staying in the village tonight?’

  ‘Don’t worry, brother,’ Kelsey said. ‘Everything’s been sorted.’

  ‘There’s space for you in the attic above the tavern,’ Tilda said. ‘You finish that pile off tomorrow, and then you can leave the morning after that.’

  ‘Does that mean I’m done for the day?’ said Keir.

  ‘Not quite,’ said Kelsey. ‘We’re both working during the village’s evening meal, which, by the way, is just about to start, and then we’ll get our meal and off to bed. I’ll be serving, and you’re on the dishes.’

  Keir groaned.

  Tilda and Kelsey shared a laugh, then the owner turned and went back into the tavern.

  ‘Did you think we were going to be relying on charity, brother?’ Kelsey said. ‘Tilda and Philo are fair employers, and good people. As well as food and board, they’re going to be giving us supplies for the journey, and the blacksmith’s agreed to take a look at Fickle’s shoes. They’ve also told me what they’d be willing to pay for our mounts. They said they could really do with a couple of fine horses in the village, if we were willing to sell.’

  He took a draw from the cigarette. ‘You’d sell Fickle?’

  Kelsey sighed, and sat down on a stool next to him. ‘This is what I told them. I said that we might consider leasing our mounts to them. They’d pay us, but if we returned within a year, they’d let us buy them back at half the price.’

  ‘That doesn’t make any sense,’ he said. ‘If the blacksmith can fix Fickle’s shoe, then we could be in the imperial capital in a few days.’

  ‘But we’d have no money when we got there,’ she said, ‘and we’d have to sell them with no chance of ever getting them back. This way we walk, but we’ll have enough supplies for the journey, and we’ll have plenty of money when we arrive. What’s an extra five or six days?’

  ‘I’ll think about it.’

  ‘All right. You do that.’

  The sound of people entering the tavern filtered through from the kitchen door.

  ‘Come on,’ she said; ‘back to work.’

  Once Keir’s chores were over, he threw off his apron and stumbled out of the kitchen and into the warmly-lit tavern, where a dozen villagers had remained behind after the evening meal. A fire was crackling in the hearth, and sitting at a table close by were Kelsey and the couple who owned the place. His sister caught his eye and gestured to where a bowl and mug sat. Keir fell into a chair, hunger the only thing on his mind. He picked up a spoon and began wolfing down the food from the large bowl, barely tasting it as he swallowed. Cooked vegetables, and meat for the first time in many days.

  ‘You’ve earned that today, son,’ said Tilda.

  ‘There’s work here for a strong lad like you,’ said Philo. ‘We’ve already had half the village asking if you’re available. It’s a busy season, and there’s plenty to do.’

  ‘There aren’t many young folk here,’ said Kelsey, sipping from a mug.

  ‘It’s the war,’ said Tilda. ‘They’re all away in the army.’

  ‘Is that where you’re headed?’ said Philo. ‘Your sister said you had a job in the city. Are you joining the imperial forces?’

  Keir glanced up from the bowl, his dinner already finished. He picked up the mug and drank a long draught of ale, the words of the couple slowly filtering into his consciousness as his hunger receded. The army?

  ‘That’s right,’ said Kelsey. ‘My brother’s going to volunteer when we get to the city.’

  Many of the older villagers in the tavern nodded, and Keir noticed that everyone was looking at him.

  ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Do my bit for the empire.’

  ‘Good for you,’ said one of the villagers.

  ‘Is there any news from the war?’ said Kelsey. ‘We’ve been on the road for a while.’

  ‘We don’t get much news out here, love,’ said Tilda. ‘Rainsby’s still holding out, last we heard.’

  ‘The Empress is too timid,’ said one of the villagers. ‘I don’t understand why we just don’t send the whole army down there to destroy those fanatical bastards. What’s she waiting for? It’s been almost a year since they invaded.’

  ‘She ain’t let us down before,’ said Tilda.

  ‘It’s geography,’ said Kelsey.

  The others looked at her.

  ‘If the Empress sent the whole army south,’ she went on, ‘then they’d have to go down either the western or the eastern coast of the Inner Sea, and Ghorley could just march north up the opposite side they chose. If she divided the army into two and sent them down both sides at once, then Ghorley could attack each half one at a time.’

  ‘See?’ laughed Tilda. ‘Even a young girl can work it out.’

  The older man who had spoken scowled at Kelsey. ‘Where you from anyhow, girl?’

  ‘The Holdings.’

  ‘We’re all from the Holdings,’ the man said, ‘though I have my doubts about your brother, if that’s who he really is. He looks more like one of them Kellach if you ask me.’

  ‘Yeah, well no one was asking you, Toby,’ said Philo.

  ‘And have you ever heard of a dark-skinned Kellach?’ said Tilda.

  ‘No,’ said Toby, ‘but I ain’t never seen a Holdings lad as tall before neither. Something’s got to give.’

  Kelsey sighed. ‘It’s been the story of his life. Ever since he was a little boy, everyone’s commented on his height. Our mother’s never even met a Kellach Brigdomin in her life, but that didn’t stop tongues from wagging in our village.’ She gave Toby a hard glance. ‘We left home to get away from all that.’

  The old man flushed. ‘Sorry, girl. I wasn’t wanting to bring your mother into it.’

  ‘Then let that be an end to it,’ said Tilda. ‘These two youngsters have done a power of work for us today. Let’s not give them the impression they’re not welcome.’ She stood. ‘More ale for everyone?’

  Keir glanced at Kelsey as the villagers nodded. She was perched on her chair, her eyes taking in everything going on in the tavern. Keir waited until Tilda and Philo had gone to the cellar for another keg of ale, then leaned over to her.

  ‘Why did you tell them I was going to join the army?’

  She frowned at him. ‘Hush, little puppy. Just trust me and nod along.’

  ‘So,’ said the old man Toby, ‘which Hold did you say your village was in?’

  Keir opened his mouth but Kelsey beat him to it.

  �
��Greening,’ she said.

  ‘You related to the Greenholds, are you?’

  ‘No.’

  The old man narrowed his eyes. ‘Your accent tells a different story. You don’t sound like common folk; you’re more like aristocracy.’

  ‘Very good schools in Hold Greening,’ said Kelsey.

  The man snorted.

  ‘Leave them be,’ said a woman at the same table as Toby.

  ‘I just think we should be on our guard,’ said Toby. ‘These two could be criminals, running from the law.’

  ‘Your imagination’s getting the better of you,’ said the woman. ‘They’re children.’

  ‘He ain’t,’ said Toby, pointing at Keir. ‘Whatever he is, he ain’t no child. And why’s he not saying anything?’

  ‘Maybe he’s got nothing to say to a rude old man,’ said Tilda, re-emerging from the cellar with Philo, their hands grasping an ale keg.

  Toby scowled. ‘I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking.’

  Keir glanced at the old man and caught his eye. In an instant he was inside Toby’s mind, and could feel the suspicion and mistrust swirling within. There was a glimpse of a plan forming in the old man’s head, involving a trip to a nearby settlement where a local constabulary was based. Keir’s heart froze. If his parents had sent out word to every corner of the Holdings and northern Plateau, then even though they were miles off the main roads, Toby would most likely discover who they were. Keir lowered his eyes.

  Tilda handed him a fresh mug of ale and a lit cigarette.

  ‘So,’ Philo said as he sat, ‘which branch of the military were you thinking of?’

  ‘The cavalry,’ he said, as Kelsey said, ‘Infantry,’ at the same time.

  She glared at Keir, as Philo raised an eyebrow. ‘He wants the cavalry,’ she said, ‘but I’ve already told him that he’s better suited for the infantry.’

  Keir smirked back at his sister. ‘I like horses.’

  ‘And that stallion of yours is a fine beast,’ Philo said. ‘Maybe after a couple more ales we could discuss an arrangement regarding your mounts?’

  Keir shook his head. ‘Sorry, but I’m never selling Monty.’

  He heard his sister sigh beside him.

  The ale flowed and, as the evening drew on, more villagers made their farewells and left the tavern to go to their homes. Philo went to bed, leaving Tilda and a couple of regulars, along with Toby, who had been in a sullen mood. Kelsey nudged Keir.

  ‘Probably time for bed.’

  Keir ignored her. He had been tired before, but after several ales he was just beginning to enjoy himself. He knew he was starting to slur his words, but no one seemed to mind.

  ‘Keir,’ she said, poking him in the ribs with a fork. ‘I’m tired.’

  ‘Just one more ale,’ he muttered.

  Kelsey frowned as she stood. ‘Make sure it’s just the one. I’m going to bed.’

  She turned and gave a nod to Tilda, then walked from the darkening room, the fire the only source of light. Keir re-filled his mug and sat back, his eyes on the flames in the hearth. He felt his powers trickle out from him, reaching for the wisps of fire that rose into the dark jaws of the stone chimney. He hadn’t mentioned anything to his sister about Toby’s plan to report them to the local constables. The old man was still sitting at the same table where he had been all evening, keeping a watchful eye on Keir.

  ‘Need to take a leak,’ the old man said at that moment. ‘Then it’s the road for me.’

  Tilda nodded, her eyes on the fire. Keir watched as Toby got to his feet and headed for the back door, where a small shack housed a toilet pit.

  ‘Me too,’ said Keir, standing. ‘See you all tomorrow.’

  Keir walked to the back door, his heart pounding. Without knowing what he intended to do, he followed Toby out to the toilet shack in the back yard of the tavern. The old man grunted as Keir entered.

  ‘Tilda and Philo are generous folks,’ Toby said as he aimed into the pit. ‘I hope you’re not abusing their hospitality.’

  ‘You don’t know anything about me.’

  ‘No?’ Toby said. ‘But I can tell you’re upper class, your accent gives it away. And I’m not buying the Holdings lad routine. Your sister’s good, but she ain’t convinced me that you’re pure Holdings blood.’

  Rage boiled within Keir and he lashed out with his left fist, striking the old man on the side of the head, sending him flying to the dark ground. Keir gasped. Toby lay on his side, his eyes closed, his body unmoving. Keir backed out of the shack, and glanced around. The yard was quiet and empty, and the darkness of the sky above was mirrored by the village; the sole light coming from the seven stars overhead.

  He stole back into the tavern and crept up the stairs to the attic. Kelsey was lying sleeping on a mattress laid out on the floor next to their bags. He knelt down in the darkness and shook her shoulder.

  ‘Get up,’ he whispered.

  ‘What do you want, you oaf?’

  ‘We have to leave.’

  She sat up and scratched her head. ‘Why? What have you done? I was only gone ten minutes.’

  Keir swallowed. ‘I might have killed Toby.’

  ‘What?’ Kelsey said. She started scrambling about for her clothes. ‘Where is he?’

  ‘In the toilet shack. I hit him.’

  ‘And you think he might be dead?’

  ‘I don’t know. He wasn’t moving.’

  ‘Shit. Right, you stay here and get all our things packed. No, wait. Once the bags are packed, get your arse downstairs by the stables.’

  Before he could respond she was off, rushing down the steps to the ground floor. He lit a lamp and began throwing their things into the bags that were sat next to the mattress. He picked up the bags when they were full, and crept back down the steps. He neared the kitchen door and peered inside. They would need food. He entered. Low voices were still coming from the main room of the tavern, and he could hear Tilda talking as he shoved loaves of bread into a bag, along with everything else that would fit. He noticed a tin sitting by the kettle, and opened it. Inside was a pile of gold coins. He shoved it into a bag, pushing it deep and hiding it among a bundle of clothes. He hoisted the bags onto his shoulder and went back outside, where Kelsey was waiting for him.

  ‘Well,’ she said, ‘he’s alive at least, though he’s still unconscious.’ She shook her head as her eyes welled up. ‘You clown. What were you thinking? Do you realise I’m going to have to leave Fickle here?’

  ‘Tough,’ he said, barging his way past her towards the stables.

  He loaded the bags onto the flank of Monty, then placed the saddle into position. He could hear his sister standing next to him, but his only thought was to get away before anyone discovered Toby or the missing gold. He led Monty out into the yard and climbed up into the saddle. Kelsey emerged from the stables, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  ‘Come on,’ he said, extending his hand for her to join him on Monty.

  She reached out and he pulled her up. She sat behind him, and put her arms round his waist as he kicked Monty into action. He clasped the reins and Monty took off, trotting down the dark path towards the edge of the village to the sound of Kelsey sobbing.

  ‘Shut up,’ he whispered to Kelsey. ‘The villagers might hear you.’

  ‘Fuck off,’ she said as she clung to his back. ‘I hate you.’

  Chapter 13

  Night Sailing

  Plateau City, Imperial Plateau – 10th Day, Second Third Spring 525

  Karalyn sat by her bedroom window, high up in the Great Fortress. She and Corthie had been living there since Laodoc’s death, sharing space with the Empress’s children and the two youngest from the Sanang delegation. Belinda had also moved in, but had been ordered by the Empress to restrict herself to either her or Karalyn’s room only. Beneath them lay nine floors of soldiers, courtiers, government officials and countless barred doors and guarded entrances, but Karalyn knew that every defence was useless if anoth
er attacker came.

  Only she and Corthie seemed able to resist. Karalyn stubbed out a cigarette into an over-flowing ashtray and lit another, a cold cup of coffee sitting on the window ledge. A pile of untouched books sat next to her, with one of Belinda’s cats curled up on the highest volume. Karalyn didn’t feel like reading; she didn’t feel like doing anything, so she sat staring out of the window at the view of the peasant and Kellach quarters below. She could make out the statue of her auntie Keira in the busy streets and, further on, Duncan’s park stretched out; a great swathe of green in the heart of the city. Troops still guarded the bridges that led over the river into the Rahain quarter, but there had been no serious outbreaks of violence between the two groups since winter.

  Chatter was coming from the large living-room beyond her bedroom door, and she could pick out the voice of Thorn, the headstrong young hedgewitch who had so charmed the Empress and the court. Karalyn hadn’t mentioned anything to the Empress about what she had seen within the young Sanang woman’s mind; her Majesty had greater things to worry about than the vain ambition and ruthless streak of a volunteer hedgewitch. Nevertheless, Karalyn didn’t like the way that Corthie and many of the other boys and men gazed at Thorn; bewitched by her delicate beauty and dazzling smile, without seeing that it was all a self-serving act; but it didn’t matter. The hedgewitches were going to be put to work shortly, and most would be leaving the city in the days to come.

  There was a low tap at the side door of her room, which led to Belinda’s quarters.

  ‘Come in,’ Karalyn said.

  The door opened and Belinda entered. ‘Good morning.’

  ‘Morning.’