Luther, Magi: Blood of Lynken II

by Geoffrey C Porter

  "You can go in, and we'll wait outside," the left guard said. "We'll lose our rank if we leave."

  Rubie pulled a small silver key out of her shirt. "Only three people have one of these keys. A good locksmith can open the door easily enough."

  The queen turned the key in a lock securing the iron door. It clicked. She undid it and slid the bar out of the way. "We need light, Derrick."

  The group stepped into the vault. Derrick summoned a light in the gemstone on his staff. Stacks upon stacks of gold coins. Thousands. The light was almost blinding. Swords and armor fashioned out of gold. Such riches Malik and Derrick had never seen.

  "What are we doing here, Mom?" Gregory asked.

  Rubie walked to the northeastern corner of the room. The wall was brick. She reached her hand down to the bottommost stone. "I think it's fifteen up and seven across."

  She counted up fifteen rows of bricks. A table stood in her way stacked with silver. She pushed that away from the wall. Seven bricks in from the edge, she put a fingertip on each corner of the brick. She made one quick motion forward. The brick moved. A whole section of wall four-foot square moved about an inch.

  Rubie pointed. "Push on it, you idiots. The keystone can only do so much."

  Malik pushed the wall forward and disappeared into a dark passageway.

  Rubie looked at Derrick. "You next; you've got the light."

  Derrick turned to Gregory and smiled. The Magi held out his hand, and a swirling mist of white light formed into a ball. Gregory caught it in his hand and moved into the passageway. Derrick did the same with Emmy, and she went forward. Rubie followed Emmy.

  Derrick brought up the rear.

  The passageway opened into a square room with walls lined with skulls. Three blades sat in a triangle in the center of the room.

  "We have a room full of skulls in our castle?" Gregory asked.

  "Yes, it's kind of sick," Emmy said.

  Rubie brushed dust off her hands. "When you rule, you can make sure they all get a decent burial. I'm sure they were all bad people."

  "I don't get why we're here?" Malik asked.

  "Derrick, identify those blades."

  Derrick began a low chant of Truesight. "They're truly powerful, my queen, blades of speed and carnage. To forge one is weeks of your life."

  "Gregory, choose yours."

  Gregory smiled wider than any of them had ever seen. He handled each blade in turn, for each was different. He picked one of the three. "I like this one."

  "Now take the other two, and assign them to your new bodyguards," Rubie said.

  "I don't need bodyguards!"

  "When you're king, you'll never be alone. You'll always have trusted soldiers at your side."

  "I have Malik!"

  "I'm a war general, an advisor, and your friend, Gregory," Malik said, "but she's right, you must start using bodyguards."

  Emmy let out a little girly laugh. "Better you than me."

  "If he falls in the war, you're next in line for the throne," Rubie said. "You'll have bodyguards, too."

  "Be safe, brother."

  "You must choose your men," Malik said.

  "I choose Nero and Reno," Gregory said. "I can trust them."

  "Let's find them and give them the blades."

  Gregory and Malik ducked out of the skull room. The others followed. They found Nero and Reno in the barracks. Gregory said, "You're to be my bodyguards. I have arcane blades for both of you."

  Reno and Nero smiled and looked at each other. Reno said, "You know what this calls for?"

  "The Nork Song of Loyalty!" Nero said.

  Gregory glared. "No."

  "Yes, my liege,” Reno said. “It must be sung."

  Gregory hated that song, and Reno and Nero sang an especially long version of it that went on and on. Gregory was honor-bound to listen to their display. He hated nothing more. Reno and Nero were obviously drunk, because at the end of the song, they started fresh from the beginning again.

  Gregory wept.

  The next day, four thousand Nork regulars marched for Lynken, with Gregory, Malik, Reno, and Nero at the lead.

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  Out of habit, Juxta took a few moments each day to scry various parties. He saw Prince William and Mathew speak of David after his death. He also saw Prince William build a great pyre for Kergia's men. When Kirl's troop was slaughtered, Juxta saw the bloodstained snow. He also noticed when Gregory and Malick's troop marched out of Nork. He watched Quintak's forces as well, and the southernmost tribes were already marching and riding north.

  Juxta was at the mine working on timbers when things started to click in his mind. He stopped forging branches and rallied men together. Soon enough, Lisa and Monroe stood at his side. They had eight wagons ready, and a thousand turquoise cubes in each one for ease of counting.

  "Lisa and I will take four wagons and five hundred men north to meet Nork's forces on the road," Juxta said. "They're vulnerable."

  "Take extra horses, and push the beasts hard," Monroe said.

  "You're not coming with us?" Lisa asked.

  "No, I'm going to oversee the rest of the mining."

  "Spiders could come here."

  Juxta rubbed at his chin. "We'll take six wagons, and three hundred men. The mining must continue. Better to not keep all our turquoise in one place."

  They set out that morning, with Juxta and Lisa riding in the first wagon. The men rode horses or drove wagons in the rear. They brought fifty extra horses. Bart, the apprentice who studied in Weslan, stayed with Monroe, but every man staying had a chunk of turquoise in a pocket or satchel. The road was frozen solid, and the wind bit with a deadly chill.

  Juxta threw a great orb of swirling white light into the sky to let them ride a bit past sunset. They lit twenty fires. Some of the men produced two small ovens out of wagons and baked one-pound loaves of warm bread until midnight. Most of the men slept either in the back of a wagon or under a tent. It snowed on them in the night. The men on guard duty let the fires die out. They did have four wagons full of kegs of their distilled cider, but the men knew the farther north they traveled, the colder it would get.

  Juxta scryed about in the morning. The troop ate jerky, bread, and dried apples. They raced to the northeast. Five days passed traveling this way. Finally, they crested a rise, and Gregory, Derrick, Derrick's apprentice Oppie, Nero, Reno, and Malik smiled wide from the top of the next hill. Juxta shouted, "Hail!"

  Gregory waved. The troop from Nork advanced, and Juxta's troop started down the hill.

  "I scryed you on our path," Derrick said, "but I didn't know why you were meeting us."

  "Turquoise," Juxta answered. "There are spider shamans all over the countryside, and the only counter to their magic is turquoise."

  "I've never even heard of it."

  Juxta pulled his turquoise chunk out of a belt pouch and held it high.

  "And you have enough for our troops?" Gregory asked.

  Malik shouted, "It looks like they brought whiskey, too!"

  "Distilled hard cider," Juxta said. "I prefer it over whiskey."

  "How many gallons did you bring?"

  "Four hundred."

  Derrick spoke in a loud voice carried by his magic, "I sense a dire cold front moving in, and the men need the cider to keep warm tonight."

  Nork's men raised up a great cheer.

  Malik shouted, "We need some men to stand guard, of course."

  Some Nork men nodded. They made camp. A few of the men didn't sleep at all. Others got so plastered they curled up under blankets and passed out. Gregory took one sip of the fire water and said, "Hell no."

  Malik made sure every man got at least a taste of the brew and a square chunk of turquoise. When tavern masters bought the brew from Juxta's fiefdom, they always watered it down by as much as fifty percent, so it was a rare thing to taste the drink from the source.

  They didn't set out at dawn the next day. More like noon. Nork's army was on foot. Juxta
's men hunted and scouted. Days passed as they traveled this way. The farther south they moved, the warmer the weather became, and the more mud got in their way.

  * * *

  Every Southlander from the Southern reaches who was old enough to carry a blade was at Quintak's capital. Close to ten thousand wagons were loaded with food and wine. And Bractar. Almost every wagon carried Bractar. Quintak stood on a great platform before most of his army. Luther, Timothy, and Jason stood at his side, loyal servants.

  "We'll break them under our heel!" Quintak shouted, and every man in his army heard. "We'll drive them south or north so they can live in the wastelands, and we can claim our place in the fertile plains."

  The men howled up a great storm of cheers, enough to almost deafen everyone, and their ears did ring. Luther, Timothy, and Jason smiled. Jason spoke in a low tone. "We're the righteous ones. Southlanders deserve a better homeland. It’s our destiny. The lands of free men are not truly free, until they know the Bractar."

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  Prince William and his army of Cat Riders traveled through Druidia unmolested. They reached the capital at noon and only stopped long enough to buy beef jerky and dried apples from merchants. They traveled east through Weslan for days. Winter seemed to be planning to live forever, and a layer of snow was on top of everything.

  The troop reached the Weslan capital and spoke with the High Council who claimed the fifty Magi and fifty apprentices had left over a week ago.

  * * *

  King William, Simon, and Teresa were consulting the calendar stones: ancient carved devices that worked with the sunset and sunrise in a special room in the castle. Teresa touched the light on the floor. "We have seven days of winter left."

  The king merely nodded.

  "The Rangers must be sent," Simon said.

  The king spoke low, "Those Rangers could be riding into traps."

  "They know the risk."

  "This isn't optional, William," Teresa said.

  "Summon them to the courtyard, Simon," William said.

  Simon ran off.

  William pulled Teresa in close. "I want you to flee to Weslan or Nork to safety."

  Teresa kissed him on the lips.

  "I'm being serious," he said. "Flee Lynken."

  "Am I taking our thirteen-year-old with me?"

  "No. I want the boy to witness this battle. I want him at my side in the command pavilion."

  "And our daughter?"

  "Yes, you can take our daughter," he said.

  Teresa hugged him close. "You know she has been seeing a Ranger."

  "Which Ranger?"

  "Theo, he's eighteen like she is, and a sergeant."

  "He's under Fredrick. I know him," he said, then he began to grin almost painfully wide. "Has he proposed?"

  "I told him he should, but for some reason, he's terrified of you."

  He pushed her away. "The men will be assembled. Theo is on the roster to head south."

  She kissed him again. "Let's go."

  William addressed the men and instructed them that each man must convince people in the Southern reaches to migrate north this year and plant crops there. William signaled out Theo with his eyes and walked up to him before dismissing the Rangers. Theo was broad across the shoulders with thick legs, brown hair and eyes like so many men in Lynken.

  "You're Theo," William said.

  The young man shivered a bit. "Yes."

  "I hear stories you've been seeing my daughter."

  The young man twitched this time but didn't answer.

  William clasped his shoulder. "If you are, you better be the marrying kind."

  "You'd approve?"

  "She's allowed to marry whomever she chooses. I'll bless the union so long as it's her wish."

  A great cheer rose up from the men.

  Simon shouted, "Dismissed!"

  The men rode out of the castle, heading south.

  * * *

  Juxta stayed at the front of the troop from Nork. The horses didn't seem to mind the slow pace. Juxta's men hunted and scouted. Malik produced a flute and played it as they walked. Gregory had such a spring in his step as if he'd been in the ceremonial leaves of the One True God or Druid's Wine. All of Nork's men wore armor on their chest, seamless pieces of steel that seemed custom-made to fit their forms.

  They wore amazingly thin layers of steel links on their arms and legs. The front and back pieces of chest armor were connected with leather straps over the shoulders and on both sides at the waist. The whole ensemble looked heavy, but apparently, it kept the men warm. They never marched for more than two hours without a thirty-minute break, and usually only three two-hour stretches per day. The men acted as if they could have done a fourth stretch if it were important enough.

  After a few days, they passed into Lynken. Juxta scryed both Prince William, Kirl, and the Southlanders, plus his own fiefdom. He spent some time looking for spiders, too. He didn't even know if he could scry the spiders; with their magic, there was no telling.

  The roads were muddy, and most men walked in the tall grasses beside the road instead. A hard winter had smashed the grasses down enough that it was passable. In summer, these weeds would be almost waist high. Juxta had a secret. He had another fifty gallons of the distilled cider hidden under a blanket in his wagon. He was saving it for his men.

  * * *

  At dawn, on the last day of winter, Quintak's armies marched into Lynken. Well over one hundred thousand men walked with long blades at their sides, some men as old as fifty and others as young as twelve. Almost five thousand shamans on top of spiders. Easily ten thousand wagons were drawn by beasts of burden. Plus another hundred thousand youngsters and women, mostly wearing Bractar.

  Quintak raised the sound of his words until they thundered across the desert. "A new era begins!" Nearly a quarter million voices cheered and howled.

  Juxta was a day's march from Lynken's capital, and he saw.

  * * *

  Frank and the other miners hammered away with pickaxes and shovels until their arms burned. They filled up carts, and runners pushed them out into the open air. Sorters separated the rocks into different types. The turquoise was too few and far between. Of what they did find, more men worked at cutting the stone into cubes with hammer and chisel. They saved every piece and shard.

  The only plus side was that the torches they used for light provided some small heat, too. Frank and a few others were enjoying a nice rest in the tavern. Monroe approached their table. He sat down and spoke in a low tone, "We won't have enough."

  Frank shook his head. "We don't even know how many Cat Riders they're sending."

  Monroe buried his face in his hands. "We won't have enough for one Cat Rider, let alone thousands."

  Frank pushed himself up from the table. The other miners followed his cue.

  "Where are you going?" Monroe asked.

  "To the mine. Make sure you keep the food, water, and cider flowing to us."

  "No man can mine day and night."

  Frank held up four fingers on one hand. "Four hours a day is all the rest we need. Just make sure we've got food and drink."

  "Madmen."

  "No, true men of Lynken."

  The men from William's regular army became machinelike. Each man took two hours out of every twelve to bed down. Sweat poured out of their bodies as they dug and dug. Women brought them skins of water with one-fifth cider in each one. They slaughtered chickens, pigs, and cows. The bread ovens never stopped. For the first time in the history of Juxta's fiefdom, they ran low on dried apples.

  Over a week passed, while the men wanted for rest and fresh air. A few men broke and were given rest. A boy ran through the mine shouting, "We have enough! We have enough!"

  The miners from Lynken stopped. They slept for a day.

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  Kirl and Josah were the first of the reinforcements to arrive. Juxta and the men from Nork arrived the next day. Three days passed before Pri
nce William arrived with the Cat Riders. In another day Monroe arrived with the rest of Juxta's forces.

  Juxta scryed throughout the day to try to figure out when the Southlanders would arrive. Fleeing peasants from Lynken stayed at least a day ahead of the Southlanders.

  Soldiers from every fiefdom in Lynken sent troops.

  Rollin sat in a pub sipping on a glass of watered down cider. It seemed pointless to distil it if penny-pinchers were just going to water it down. Rollin's hands were old, and his face was old. His frame was still bigger than some younger men. The pub was filled with at least twenty men as old as Rollin. Most were in their sixties, but they were obviously men who worked the land. Some of them would not shut up.

  "Damned Ranger sergeant said nobody over fifty!"

  "I almost gave that spring chicken an ass whooping."

  "You should have."

  Men grumbled, "Aye."

  Another man said, "They really can't stop us."

  "We'll likely nap during the battle."

  Rollin slammed his empty glass down and stood up. "Curse those sergeants. I helped change our king's diaper. I'll be damned if I'll be left out."

  A few men cheered. A man whispered, "You think they'll let us?"

  "I say we walk right into that castle and demand our place on the line!"

  A lot of men cheered this time.

  Rollin turned away from the men and stepped out of the pub. He didn't look back to see which men followed, but every man did. He climbed on his horse and walked it to the castle, so if men were behind him, they'd be able to keep up.

  The castle gates stood open, and a young sergeant ran up to Rollin. "Nobody over fifty! The king was clear."

  Rollin dismounted his horse in one smooth motion. His right hand rested on his sword hilt. "Fetch William."

  A few of the older men in the courtyard stepped closer to Rollin and bowed down low.

  "I can't fetch the king, you old fart," the young sergeant said.

  Rollin let out a low rumble of a snarl. "Then on your honor, I say steel, no armor, and blood for points."

  The young sergeant turned white as a ghost. "Who shall I tell the king is calling?"

  "Tell him an old friend is here."