Fletcher

by P. S. Power

  The plan itself wasn’t that complex. They were all going to move in, with weapons ready and simply sneak up on the man. They had numbers on their side, as well as magic, it seemed. At least that was ready to be activated.

  Anders nodded, then waved at Captain Ford, the man glared at him.

  “What?” The single word was terse. Bitter at the edges and tired in the middle. A moment that spoke of wishing that Anders had simply stayed home, even if he couldn’t have been all that annoying so far.

  Which probably meant that the Captain either feared he was about to insist on taking the Master Healer himself, so that he could kill the man, or saving his life. Whichever would get in Ford’s way the most at the moment.

  “Either Depak or I should move in, in case he gets blood on the patches.” He glanced at the older Magician, trying to explain. “We can use the cleaning spell for that. A simple one.” Anders had a good one that would work, if he could get within ten paces of the man, or at least that distance from any blood magic he tried to activate.

  Ford simply nodded.

  “Good idea. Master Depak, if you would? I’d rather not lose my testicles to Lyse when we get back, if that’s all the same.” The words weren’t spoken as a joke. More as a way to placate Anders.

  As if he were going to insist on going forward himself. They had seventeen people with them, of which he and possibly Eltha, were the least able to stand in an actual fight. Maybe Master Tolan, was worse off than he was that way. It wasn’t a sure or certain thing at all however.

  Standing back, he walked in with the others, a bow in hand, ready to fight if he had to. If there was something that they’d missed, like secret tunnels or a force of magical entities ready to take over and attack them with a word or wave of the hand, he needed to be ready. Instead the whole thing was remarkably calm, compared to what might have happened.

  Master Franken yelled something, which sounded like it was meant to be magical, and a white light came from the cabin as the man was pulled out by three of the well-armed castle guards. Depak rapidly spoke a different version of the same spell that Anders would have used, which stopped the magic instantly.

  Then Master Belford moved in, almost silently and from behind the man and hit him in the back of the head with a stout stick. One thicker than his favorite one that he carried around in the castle. That didn’t take the Master Healer into sleep, so he had to do it several more times. The man kept going, clearly intent on killing the man.

  A thing that neither Anders or Farad was really planning to try and stop. Except that they needed to get some information first, if they could.

  “Master Belford? We should perhaps question him before killing him, shouldn’t we? Besides, he won’t suffer enough if you kill him now.” Farad heard the words coming from his own lips, a feeling of horror touching his mind as he realized something.

  The boy inside of him, Anders, hadn’t spoken them. He, Farad the peaceful old man, had. Worse, they weren’t about placating anyone at all. Just about trying to get the information they needed. Breathing hard, the man, who was dressed in all black, his face white as death in the moment, choked back a sob and tensely nodded.

  “Agreed. We do not allow him to escape us. Not alive. He escaped too well once and we know he’s willing to kill innocent people to do it.”

  No one spoke for a long while. Finally, feeling more than a little evil, Anders spoke. The answer was obvious, after all. Tying a man up was an invitation for him to slip his bonds. They didn't have stronger chains with them, either. Plus, the monster could have more magic on himself, hidden and ready to activate. Nothing felt right for that to Anders, though he didn't drop into a trance in the moment to get a finer reading on that kind of thing.

  “Strip him and then break his arms and legs. He won’t be able to flee if we do that. We need to check him for magic or weapons anyway.”

  The words got a grunt from Captain Ford. Then he gestured for several of his men to get that part, the removal of clothing, done.

  As the pale flesh of the man was exposed, there was an interesting discovery. All over his chest and back, in some kind of black ink, there were drawings. Or, as Farad recognized, tattoos. Mainly in spirals, with fine seeming symbols nearly touching one another. They covered his front and back, moving down onto his legs.

  Anders looked at them closely, then nodded.

  “The same style as we found at the attacks so far. It’s better quality work than what we found in his rooms. Probably that of his master. I can’t tell what it’s all for…” He stopped then, took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Then focused himself until the only thing he could see were the patterns on the man’s body, moving slowly, as if a living thing. Each symbol shifting and warping as it was looked at.

  One of the patterns in black was nearly impossible to focus on. It simply twisted and moved out of the way, over and over again. There was magic in the making of it. A thing powered by Master Franken, a part of his being, having become one with his flesh.

  The rest each had a purpose as well. Some to call to the minds of others, to make them feel that the Master was innocent. Two of the things held his looks stable, while stopping him from taking on a greater physical age. Looking at each, with his eyes closed, Anders nodded.

  “The arms and legs. He’s crawling with active magics. None of which is harmful to us directly. If he’s mobile they might help him escape later. If he can’t walk, he can’t run.” At least Anders thought that might be the case.

  One of the things was clearly the spell that allowed the man to move as he had. The only way to prevent that from working again would be to make certain he couldn’t take a life to power it. That, or possibly cut the spell off of him.

  The idea was tempting, though too risky, for the moment.

  Captain Ford did the work himself, breaking elbows and knees, then getting help to put the man over a horse, lying on his stomach. That portion required a rag to be placed in his mouth, since the Healer tried to scream in pain as he was lashed to the thing.

  It wasn’t about their comfort that got Anders to move to muffle the bellowing. When the others looked at him, interested in why he was wedging a piece of cloth between his lips, all he could do was shake his head a bit.

  “He’s scaring the horses. Speaking of which, we should take his steed here as well.” The beast wasn’t evil, even if it had aided the Master Healer in his escape from justice. From the look at the beast it was young and strong. Probably coming from the king’s own stable.

  No one fought him on the idea. They did have to wait for Master Franken to calm down a bit, before they rode out for the day.

  The trip back was tense, since everyone seemed to be expecting some kind of pursuit out of Yanse. Depak was wary the entire time and kept looking at the tattoos on the naked flesh of Master Franken every time they stopped. Master Tolan did the same thing, as did Master Belford. Eltha kept frowning at the bound man, her face hard and unreadable.

  Finally, she moved to Anders, as they neared the castle.

  “I cannot like what those signs upon his body mean. Are we taking a weapon back with us?”

  Master Tolan had said he didn’t think that was the case. Anders and Depak had both attempted to test the man for anything along those lines as well, using both wizardry and their own skills. The truth was that it was still a risk. Gull had even tried to work out what they might mean himself and was uneasy about the work but couldn’t articulate why that was. His take was that they should cut the things off of the man, for safety.

  Which would kill the man, or it probably would have been tried.

  Anders didn’t love what it might mean either.

  “We should hold him away from the castle. In one of the outbuildings, if that’s allowable. Away from anyone that he might harm if this turns out to be part of a larger trick.” His voice was still too high pitched. Probably annoying to the adults there.

  Everyone agreed with him anyway. Every knight, guard an
d magic user. Even the baron simply nodded. The man had spoken daily, without ever doing much more than caring for Master Belford, as if he were the tutor’s servant, instead of nobility.

  In the end they took over one of the guard spaces. A watch house, which was big enough for ten people to be in at one time. At least if they were standing and didn’t mind being close to one another. Once inside they placed Franken in a wooden chair, directly in the middle of the wooden room and tied him firmly in place. Tight enough that his hands and feet started to turn white almost instantly.

  Then, most of the people were sent away, by Captain Ford.

  “We need to find out what the King wants done with you, Franken. Then we’ll make certain you pay for what you did to our Mother. Won’t we brother?”

  For his part, Master Belford merely nodded. At first. Then he pulled a knife from the scabbard he was wearing on his right side.

  “That we will, brother. That we will, indeed.”

  Chapter thirty-four

  The news that they were returned, with a prisoner, was nearly silent in the castle. None of the servants came to see them into the building and certainly there was no line of waiting relatives or welcomers for them this time. Instead what they got was the King and each of the Princes, striding into the guard hut as if they were there to extract their own retribution. Each face was as grim as death.

  The King even held a long knife in his right hand, when he came through the door. For the first time since he’d been captured, nearly half a month before, Master Franken did something other than ask for a bite of food or something to drink. He ducked his head a bit, indicating a bow, after a fashion.

  “Sire. I don’t suppose you’d allow me to explain?” The man didn't seem afraid, even if he had to know that he was going to be dying, very soon. Possibly within the moment, if the King chose that fate for him.

  Breathing hard, the King stopped in place, the gleaming blade pointed outward, toward the still naked man. He didn’t reek, since Anders had made sure to clean him each day in their travels. Using magic, so it could be done from a distance. True that had been mainly about making sure no blood could pool on any of the tattoos, not about the man’s personal comfort. It still made it seemed like they were doing the right thing by the prisoner, he had to feel. No one had even beaten him as they traveled.

  Everyone who had been there for the capture had been kicked out of the duty hut, except for himself, Captain Ford and Master Belford. Outside there were half a dozen guards. All men that had traveled with them, meaning they could be trusted. It wasn’t enough, if anything truly bad took place. Prince Erold also had his blade out, which was a good idea, though again, having the King and Princes there wasn’t a grand idea. They were outside in the little hut for a reason, which largely had to do with keeping them away from any potential magic.

  Matheus growled, the blade moving forward aggressively, though from nearly three feet away.

  “You can’t possibly think to talk yourself out of this. Not now. Did you think that I would let the murder of any of my people go? Especially the Mother of two of my own sons? Talk if you wish. That grace won’t last long.”

  The ruler of Istlan sounded bloody in his certainty that Master Franken was about to die.

  For some strange reason the bearded man, tied firmly to the chair and naked, simply smiled. It was a bit sad seeming. Haunted.

  “Over thirty years ago, a woman came to me, in my workshop at the time. It was some years before I found my way into your Father’s employ here. She was dressed in strange fashion, holding the dark skin of those from the southern climes. She offered me power and use of incredible magics, if I aided her in a few small ways. She had a plan, you see. One to save the world from tyrants and evil men. She was alluring, in her own way. Exotic, certainly. Also, as she promised, powerful.” He stopped, everyone in the room staring at the naked man.

  Anders noticed that one of the sigils started to charge with power first.

  When he spoke, his voice was cold.

  “Out. Everyone. There’s magic here…”

  The words got an eye roll from the restrained healer.

  “True, Anders. Or should I say Farad Ibn Istel? You have no doubt already worked the whole thing out. Who it is that came to me, all those years ago. Who has been attacking you here, trying to break this land from the top, instead of under the yoke of war. Who had you placed in the body of young Anders Brolly here…” The man shook his head a bit, his beard wild, lacking proper grooming as it had been for over a week.

  Almost everyone, except the King, looked over at Anders.

  When he spoke it was the same warning again.

  “He’s trying to get us all to stay here. Go! Something is happening!”

  This time, as he pointed, it was clear that everyone was starting to notice the magic taking place. A thing that was no longer subtle or difficult to manage in the slightest. One of the spirals, a thing made up of tiny symbols, all in black ink, a large one on the man’s pale chest, started to glow. Bright enough to fill the room with a golden hue.

  Then too bright to look at.

  As Franken spoke, his voice changed. Altering into something smoother and younger. So did the way he looked, when it was possible to see him through the dimming light that had covered him for no more than a few moments. Instead of being the Master Healer, another man was sitting there, tied to the chair, when the light faded. There were murmurs when they saw who was there. Nothing all that excited or strained, given the new man was still tied in place as he was.

  Farad didn’t know what to do for what felt like the longest time. Finally, he rolled his eyes, as the man spoke, the voice familiar, if only to one person in the room.

  The fellow in the chair laughed.

  “So! My minion in the north has called some attention to himself, I see? Very well. Which of you rules here?” The new man looked around, first at Prince Robarts, then at each of the others, finally landing on the King. There was a small smirk, as the prisoner worked it out without being told.

  Before he could say anything about how clever he was, being able to tell who was the ruler there at a glance, as if anyone would have had an issue doing that, Anders spoke.

  “That’s a bit obvious, don’t you think, Ganges? Or do you go by something different now?”

  The man went still for a moment, then smiled.

  “A boy? One who recognizes me by name, even. Very good then, child. Who are you, then, if I am allowed to ask? One of the other great users of power from the ages… Perhaps one of the new powers, a being of greatness in your own right? It matters not. When this talk is over, this vessel will be gone from your reach, no matter how great you prove yourself to be. It is the nature of this magic. A life is owed, for me to come to you in this place. Do you rule there then, in this new land of Istlan? The power behind this fair and good King?” Ganges looked at Matheus then, smirking more than a little. “You are far from the worst of your kind that I’ve had to deal with, by the way. It is only that I need your lands for my great endeavor, or I would leave you and yours alone. Alas, I cannot, I fear. This location is too central to the northern continent. Without Istlan, I cannot bring peace to the world.”

  Prince Robarts spoke then, his voice hard without being harsh.

  “We will fight you and have defeated your plans thus far. It would be best if you didn't try us.”

  The man, who looked very little like Franken now, which was clearly a cast illusion, not a physical change at all smirked a bit. It was too familiar to Farad by half.

  Also, a bit lacking in sanity.

  Ganges, seeming wild and slightly bemused, stared at Robarts.

  “Of course you’ll resist. They always do. Then I crush them and do what I had planned anyway. I’ve been at this for a very long time, gentlemen. Longer than any of you can know. I, as our young friend here noted, was once called Ganges the Great. Entire continents have trembled before me. You will do the same. I do not doubt you are
brave and worthy men, if you must have my thoughts on the matter. Indeed, that you are all stalwart and true to your beliefs is why I have come to you first, in the north. At least in this form.”

  King Matheus waved the knife a bit, trying to catch the bound man’s attention.

  “To what possible end? Coming here will prove your undoing. We have you tied to a chair, in a place well away from my people. Even if you can kill us all here, you cannot end us. Istlan is stronger than any one man. If you strike me down, then my sons will rule in my stead. If they lose their step then others will step forward to thwart you. Down to the lowest farmer, we will fight. Perhaps you are a mere seeming, not to fear your position here. Regardless, this blade through your chest will stop that from taking place, soon enough.” He started to move in then. With Captain Ford waving his right hand. That distracted the King for a moment.

  A situation which wasn’t going to last very much longer.

  Ganges spoke, answering the question in a pleasant voice.

  “I seek to unify this world, King Matheus of Istlan. I shall create a place of splendor and glory, where all might seek to better their lot in life. Where the part of the King will be to see to the well being of those under him, instead of to his own riches and power. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to help me give your people a better life? That would be the best outcome, for everyone involved.”

  The King shook his own head then. A bit too hard.

  “It is my task to see to the wellbeing of all my people. Giving that responsibility over to another, one who would seek to conquer, instead of using a more civil path, would be to abandon my people to a tyrant. I cannot allow that to happen.”

  Ganges, looking around the room, simply nodded.

  “Away from your keep or castle then, you said? That’s an excellent plan. It would be very easy to make this space explode in a fashion none would credit as being possible. Do you know why I’m not doing that?”