by Brandon Barr
“What are men and what are animals? Are we pawns in this game of existence? Or are we masters of our own destiny? You fight with passion, and passion is for the strong, but you counteract your strength with your bleeding heart. Your love for the weak will be your ruin.”
“I’m not afraid of dying. I’ll leave that kind of knee-shaking for gutless rats like you. You aren’t man enough to risk your own life. What you call strength is just old fashioned cowardice wrapped up in a pretty string of stupid words. Your men murdered my parents four years ago, and since that day, I’ve been waiting for the chance to rip that cold hard heart out of your chest and squat a piss on it.”
The right side of Titannus’s lip curled in amusement.
“You know what else? That chicken in your man’s hand has a name. I love that damn chicken. He’s going to pay for even touching my bird.”
The man holding Cluckruck paled slightly.
Titannus grinned. “I’ll take that as a no on my offer.”
Payetta bent down and touched the ground, sensing out with her mind for Titannus’s true location. The five men before her were exactly where they stood. Four more men lay on the ground around her. Two of them were men she’d butchered, the other two were on the ground, one still moved, struggling to keep his throat out of the mouth of five attacking dogs.
She questioned who the man standing before her was. Did Titannus disguise his face the day before? Or was this face a disguise? Or was this some other kind of trick? Whatever the situation, he could kill her at will with a flick of his wrist. His knives so far had been deadly accurate.
Digging her toes into the dark soil of the forest, she reached out with her Eartheye and channeled down into the tree roots beneath the five men positioned opposite her. She would have to be quick, or his wrist might end her life with a single twitch.
“What happened to the less ugly Titannus I saw yesterday? This new guy makes you look like an old leather hide with a beard.”
Titannus gave a genuine laugh. “If my men could insult with half the intelligence you do, life wouldn’t be so droll. Too bad you—”
Payetta drove the tree roots up from the ground, cutting off Titannus mid-sentence and catching the talkative fool off guard. She focused her greatest attention to roping the mage’s right wrist with a sinewy root. Titannus grimaced as he became tangled, roots wrapping around his feet and torso. The four other men beside him struggled just the same as their leader, fighting to break free.
Payetta stormed forward, carving the air with her blade as she rushed toward Titannus. Curses as bitter and vile as those her father had once unleashed flew from her tongue at Titannus.
Then Titannus slammed through the barrier of her mind and she stumbled. By sheer will, he slowly brought her to a halt, her sword tip stopping inches from his chest.
Payetta pushed, but it was like pressing against an opponent of equal strength. His white, blazing eyes glowed soullessly at her from this strange new face, and she wondered at the type of deception Titannus was playing on her. The sharp edge of her sword was so near impaling the monster, she couldn’t give up now. She thrust her will against him, straining to topple the intruding force. Her control over the tree roots lessened, so too her grip on the animals as she transferred her power into expelling the mage from her mind.
A wave of fatigue washed over her and she closed her eyes. The day’s magic use and the fight in her head were draining her faster than she could handle. She devoted all her energy to the roots holding Titannus and the four men down and released the animals.
A hand came up under her throat and she opened her eyes again to see the grey-bearded man’s face very near, his brows bent like a steep ravine over his blinding white eyes.
She brought a root sliding up around his arm, and managed to seize his wrist with her free hand. In transferring her focus, her sword hand felt as if it were a weight in her hands and the tip sank to the ground. Her grip on his wrist was weak as she tried desperately to tear his choking fingers from her throat.
A nagging impression entered her mind, but it felt foreign, as if Titannus might have placed it in her thoughts. It was the whisper that her sudden fatigue was not due to her efforts alone, but that Titannus was draining the energy from her.
“As strong as you think you are,” said Titannus, his radiant orbs locked on hers, “you are still weaker than I. Last chance to change your mind before I put an end to you. Do you want to learn to be a truly powerful mage, or are you going to die as a failure at my hand?”
The question burned deep inside her heart. Again, she pushed against his will with a small measure of renewed strength, but it was her own presence that lost footing. She was slipping, losing ground. Her intense longing to kill the man before her was offset by the reality of her own death edging closer.
This couldn’t be! She wasn’t ready to die!
Titannus tightened his grip around her neck.
She wrenched weakly on his wrist, but her hand held little strength. Black motes began to swirl in her eyes and the sharpness of her vision grew hazy.
A metallic SHLIIIIIING echoed from somewhere close, and then Titannus convulsed suddenly, his mouth sputtering blood.
His hand at her throat went limp and she fell back as his fingers lost their grip. She gasped as her body hit the ground, her mind free from his intruding presence. She lay there dizzy, sucking in air hungrily. In the background, she heard the cries of men.
She rolled over and pushed herself up to a knee.
There hung the four men’s bodies, each entangled in the roots, and each with his head slumped down over a mortal wound to the chest. In the middle was the strange grey-bearded Titannus, staring at her. A gleaming river of blood ran from a wound to his heart, pouring down the front of his cloak to the ground where it spattered into a dark crimson puddle. Strangely, there was no fear of death in Titannus’s eyes, only an intense burning anger.
Behind Titannus stood Daeken. His dark, purple tinted eyes squinting at the back of Titannus’s head.
“Shame, you just killed my favorite puppet,” rasped Titannus through lips dripping blood. “Next time we meet I vow not to waste my breath on you. Everyone you love and care for I will hunt down and kill. You could have had the power to save them.”
A twisted smile formed on his lips as his head began to droop. “Now you can lay your head down at night with that promise tickling your weak little mind. And you can—”
Daeken’s sword stung the air and the grey-bearded head flew into a bramble of thorn bushes.
“That’ll shut him up,” growled Daeken. He looked at her, his eyes heavy with concern. “Are you all right?”
Payetta shook her head, tears of anger and pain rolled down her cheeks. She turned her face away, lips curled in disgust. Thankfully, Daeken didn’t try to speak further.
When she felt ready, she turned back to face him. “Dammit!” she yelled, rising to her feet. “I thought I had him!” she kicked the ground. Her hands pinched tight into fists. She strode up to the broad shouldered man who’d held Cluckruck. The man hung awkwardly from the tree roots, the flaking wood sagging like an old fence with the weight of the body. Cluckruck flapped her wings and hobbled with a limp up to the man’s feet, cackling angrily. In a blur of motion, she sent a flurry of furious pecks at the man’s leggings, then stopped to cock a murderous eye up at him.
Payetta clenched her jaw. The sight of her injured chicken only compounded her frustration.
She punched the man in the face and roared, then punched him again.
“He’s dead, Payetta.”
“Shut up!” She glared at Daeken, but she felt no anger at him, only at herself.
“You’re a brave woman,” said Daeken. “I count nine bodies here. That’s a lot for one person to take on. Add to that the fact that one of them was a mage and you got yourself into some real poo-poo.”
She squinted at Daeken, “Don’t you dare try to be funny. Not now. I didn’t know there was a
mage—and there wasn’t—not really! It was a trick. Titannus used another man’s body—how was I supposed to know?”
“Are you telling me that you wouldn’t have attacked if you knew he was there?”
She gave him a dirty look. Half of her respected the man, for he could fight and didn’t have the streak of fear running through him like the Meadowlanders had—or even those in the Heroes Brigade. But then, Daeken had no qualms calling her out whether in private or in a group. And damn it if he wasn’t right!
“They attacked my home, it was a matter of honor,” she snapped, unwilling to satisfy him by admitting the truth. If she’d known Titannus was there, the only thing she would have changed would have been to have all the animals converge on him and then rip him to shreds first before going after the others.
“I understand honor,” replied Daeken. “But let me explain why Titannus almost killed you twice now. He knows what he’s capable of, and he doesn’t go beyond his limits. He saw what you were capable of last time, and he has powers you haven’t seen.”
Daeken gestured to the headless body hanging contorted in the roots. “He had eight other men with him against you, a cocky eighteen-year-old teenager with lots of talent, but no restraint. He knows he can beat you if you’re alone, that’s why he isolated you during the first fight. Tricked your friends with an illusion, and then this time, you stepped right into a fight with him—or would have if you’d have known he was here. The sooner you get what I’m about to say into your thick head, the sooner you’ll start acting like you have a brigade of heroes behind you and not just your own ass.”
Her face burned, but she sucked in her pride and held his gaze in silence as she waited for his punch line.
“You need to stop acting like a one-woman brigade. A handful of guys backing you is nice, but if you want to defeat Titannus and his entire force of two-hundred—or whatever the number we’ve cut it to—you need a lot more than what you have. And if you are fortunate to get more men, don’t treat them with disdain. They may not have the guts and fearlessness that you and I have, but they’ve left home and loved ones to fight. If you want to save the Meadowlands, you have to appreciate them, and rely on them. You might not be capable of killing Titannus by yourself, the question is—are you all right with that?”
Payetta breathed out an angry sigh and picked up her splintered wooden sword and stared hard at it.
“I hear you,” she whispered, her tone brimming with frustration. She turned the swords over and fingered the intricately carved hilt, but her thoughts remained on Daeken’s words. “Please leave me be now. I want to be alone.”
Daeken nodded. “See you at Ferren’s tonight?”
She eyed him with a withering glare. “That’s a stupid question. You think I can’t handle you burning my ass? I’m no sissy. Course I’ll be there.”
He smiled and bowed his head. As his footsteps faded, she was thankful he’d allowed her the last word. Dammit if he didn’t take everything else from her, she at least had something for her pride.
***
Daeken went to retrieve Shepherd from where he’d hid him before entering the fray. The boy looked as if he hadn’t moved at all, and Daeken lifted him up onto his shoulders and the boy’s little hands wrapped around his forehead for support. With Shepherd secured, he wound through the woods toward Old Ferren’s house, adrift in thought. He’d barely arrived in time, and he’d actually found himself surprised that he’d slipped past the mage’s notice and killed him—or his host at least, as Payetta had mentioned.
It only proved his point further. A mage can only do so much on their own. Titannus could be killed, and if the Heroes Brigade had more men to fight in addition to Payetta’s power, their chances of victory over Titannus could be evened.
As his feet found a path along the border between the woods and a large cornfield, he felt his purpose growing clearer with every step. He already knew the boy on his shoulders needed him, but on a grander scale, this small pocket of civilization, it beckoned him for guidance. His past had shaped him for this moment in time. Now the blood of Terry Henry Walton that flowed through his same veins was calling him to a higher purpose. If the Meadowlands could overcome this assault, if they could rally around a leader that had the power to fight against the mages and their heartless raiders, then the tide of unruly darkness sweeping over the land might be halted.
And with a little luck, brought to its knees.
At the heart of it all was the woman he’d just departed from.
She was a force to be reckoned with, but in grave need of guidance. Like Shepherd, Payetta needed him. Perhaps that was the reason he felt his heart blazing in his chest. The role being placed upon him.
In some primal way he needed something bigger than himself, or even the Meadowlands. As much hope as he could draw from his own strength, or from his desire to farm and have a family, it would never be enough as long as evil crouched just outside his door.
Payetta was the one, and it was his job to shape her into a legend. A difficult task, but the call of it pounded in his chest.
CHAPTER TWENTY
She’s a menace, raged Titannus. And she’s not alone.
Zarith Smith’s voice replied in his mind. No sense trying to tame a wild stallion. Kill her and all who are helping her.
Titannus glared about the cottage where he’d sought refuge while he communicated with Master Smith. Five of his men stood guard by the door. He waved them away with a forceful motion of his hand. Their brows wrinkled in response to his hand gestures and he shouted, “Stand outside you idiots!”
Titannus closed his eyes to focus on his master who stood on the far eastern side of the Cloud Mountains, east of the Meadowlands. Through his master’s eyes he watched an army of slaves digging at the Mackay Ruins. What Smith hoped to find there he hadn’t said.
Titannus refocused his thoughts. I delved into the young mage’s mind. She comes from a community that I wiped off the map.
What is this mage woman’s name? probed Smith.
Payetta. She has a small group of fighters helping her. They call themselves the Heroes Brigade. But there’s an added fly in the ointment. An outsider that’s joined their ranks who has a penchant for killing my men. I probed his mind and found that he fancies himself after a long dead ancestor whom he reveres.
Is he a mage too?
No,” replied Titannus. “Just a big, muscled oaf.
Did you catch his name and the name of his ancestor?
Titannus probed his memory. He knew Smith had a fascination with history. It was one of the reasons he had devoted himself to excavating the old ruins and digging up pieces of the past, obsessing over novelties and books. As far as Titannus knew, Smith was the only mage who could read the old scribblings. The oaf’s name is Daeken Zee Walton and his ancestor was Terry Henry Walton. Do you know those names?
Smith was silent for a moment. I know of Terry Henry Walton. What has this Daeken Walton done to trouble you?
He’s managed to kill eleven of my men, two of them Elderhosts—including High Elderhost Jethri
Ah, came Smith’s gentle voice. That’s why you’re so unhinged, Titannus. I know you didn’t call out to me just to chat about your failures thus far. What counsel can I give you other than to tell you to slaughter the mage and her Heroes Brigade?
I don’t need advice, I need men. Would you spare one of your pupils to assist me in hunting her down?
Titannus waited for Smith’s response and swatted the flies swarming over what appeared to be blood on the floor.
Krolan has me sending armies north and south and my pupils are stretched thin. The Meadowlands are a prize we can’t afford to lose, but do you really believe you and two hundred men aren’t enough to secure the area—even with a mage and a few resistors?
That’s just it, Master. With the girl mage’s presence, I fear that the farmers may be emboldened. I’d rather not risk losing what we’ve already gained.
Is Hargst
ead close to falling?
I plan to open the gate tonight. By morning the streets will run red with blood. It’s the North Meadow I worry about. That’s where the mage has recruited from in the past. I don’t want to be caught unprepared.
Titannus watched through Smith’s eyes as his master turned. Behind Smith was a slab of strange grey rock with perfectly carved rectangular windows. Four men Titannus assumed were newer trainees sat cross-legged in front of it, facing Smith.
I shall send you Keeth and his contingent of fifty brutals. I sent him on a mission to test the strength of the Meadowland’s southern neighbors, the Caulderi. Keeth is near enough to your position. I’ll divert him to your location and he should arrive by evening tomorrow.
Titannus could only frown at the name. Could you not send one of your pupils?
Why is Keeth not satisfactory?
Master, he isn’t a mage.
Observing through Smith’s eyes, Titannus saw his master turn his attention from his pupils, and gaze out at the excavation site. He can crush a man in his arms. That is a sort of magic, wouldn’t you say?
Titannus remembered the over-sized muscular arms and the large looming frame that dwarfed even the largest men he knew.
It should be enough, said Titannus.
Smith’s reply held a cautious edge. I think it should be, Titannus. I want the Meadowlands secured and Payetta’s bloody head hanging from whatever remains of Hargstead’s walls. This rogue mage must be silenced and the people of South Meadow killed. All of them.
Titannus was surprised at this last command. You don’t want any brought back as slaves?
Butcher every one of them. Daeken Zee Walton included. I want the Meadowlands purified. The memory of this mage girl must be extinguished.
***
It was a two-hour walk to Old Ferren’s house, and usually Payetta cut the time by half or more by keeping up a brisk jog, but not this evening. The sun was close to setting and she still had another hour to go.