The Call of Ancient Light

by Ben Wolf

  Axel elbowed him on the way toward the storehouse doors. “Think you guys got enough there?”

  Calum chuckled. This running away thing might not be so bad after all. “Hey, I haven’t eaten my fill for as long as I can remem—”

  Something yanked him back, and a shovel clanged against the doorframe. Calum hit the wooden boards on the storehouse floor, and half the contents in his sack spilled out next to him. When he looked up, Magnus stood between him and the doorway.

  A man, one of the quarry workers, stood in the doorframe and swung his shovel a second time, but Magnus caught the shovel by its shaft and leveled the worker with one vicious punch. He grabbed the worker by his legs and hurled him out of the storehouse, then he pulled the doors shut.

  “C’mon out.” A gruff voice ordered from the other side. “Surrender now, and I don’t gotta kill you.”

  Calum knew that voice, and fear pulsed through his chest.

  It was Burtis.

  Chapter Eight

  “Calum, I know you’re in there,” Burtis called. “Saw you when Khoba almost took your head off with his spade.”

  Calum glanced at Axel and then looked at Magnus, who shook his head. He stood to his feet and backed away from the door. “We’re not coming out, Burtis. You might as well just get out of here and let us pass.”

  Laughter bellowed from outside the storehouse. “You’re funny, kid. Always good for a laugh. That’s for sure.”

  “I’m serious, Burtis.”

  “You don’t know the meanin’ of the word, Calum.” All the mirth dissipated from Burtis’s voice, replaced by primal undertones. “Now get on out here, or I’ll kill you my own self.”

  A part of Calum, the same part that had learned almost a decade ago to fear those in authority, whether the foreman like Burtis or the King’s soldiers, wanted to step out and give up.

  But another part held him back and loosed his tongue.

  The part of Calum that refused to lie down anymore. The part that would no longer be bullied or abused.

  The part that longed to be free.

  “Burtis,” Calum began, “if you kill me, then so be it, but I’m not your slave anymore, or anyone else’s.”

  “You sure ’bout that?” Burtis called back.

  Axel nodded and drew his sword. “I’ve already come this far. I’m not gonna let a bunch of quarry scum—no offense, Calum—keep me from my future.”

  Magnus growled and drew his pickax. “Nor will I be going back.”

  Calum smirked at them both, then picked up a wooden rake leaning against the inside of the storehouse. “We’re not coming out, Burtis.”

  “Then we’re gonna burn the storehouse down around you. How ’bout that?”

  “You won’t,” Axel yelled. “The King’s men will arrest you for treason.”

  “That the young farm boy I hear? So these fugitives recruited you to their lost cause as well?”

  “Recruited me?” Axel winked at Calum. “Not a chance. I’m their leader.”

  Magnus huffed.

  Burtis cackled. “You bein’ in there won’t stop us from burnin’ it down, and neither will an empty threat ’bout the King’s men. Just as easy to say you four burned it down when you were tryin’ to escape. Since you’ll be dead, you won’t be ’round to argue your side.”

  Axel eyed Calum and Magnus then turned back toward the door. “Why don’t you come in here, and we’ll find out?”

  “Oh-ho! Big words for a farm boy. Why don’t you c’mon out here and make me?”

  “Go ahead,” Axel yelled back. “Burn it down. See if I care.”

  Magnus grabbed Axel’s satchel and pulled him away from the door. “Easy.”

  “He can’t talk to me like that.” Axel pointed toward the door. “Without me he’d go hungry. Dumb brute.”

  Magnus started to say something, but one of the doors swung open. A torch zipped inside the storehouse and landed in a mound of hay. The fire quickly spread to the nearby wall, which caught fire.

  Firelight flickered in Axel’s wide eyes. “He’s… actually burning the storehouse down.”

  Magnus grabbed Axel and Calum by their shoulders and pulled them close. “Listen to me. We have little time. We must fight our way out of this. Work together. Watch out for each other. Let them attack first. Wait for them to swing, then dodge and hit them with your weapons. They may be older and stronger, but you are younger and faster. Use that. Crystal?”

  Calum nodded, but Axel brushed Magnus’s hand off. “I know how to do this.”

  “Then make sure Calum does not get hurt. Keep him safe.”

  Axel nodded. “No problem.”

  “Follow me.”

  When Magnus stepped out of the storehouse, a barrage of clubs, pickaxes, and shovels swung at him. He avoided several and blocked the others with his own pickax.

  Calum and Axel followed, ready for battle. One of the workers recovered from Magnus’s deflection and hacked at Calum with a spade. He reacted and blocked the blow with his rake, but the impact sent a shock of pain into his hands, and he nearly dropped the rake. Now he understood why Magnus had told him to dodge the attacks instead of trying to block them.

  The worker swung again. This time, Calum hopped back away from the swipe and then, while the worker was stuck in his follow-through, Calum whacked him in the side of his head with the blunt end of the rake, and he went down.

  Calum stole a glance over his shoulder, and to his surprise, it actually did look like Axel knew what he was doing. He waited for the attacks to come, avoided them, and then lunged forward to deliver quick blows to his opponents with his sword, sometimes wounding them.

  Magnus did most of the damage. The workers came at him in droves, but he batted them aside as if they weighed nothing.

  Within minutes, the only workers still able to fight were Burtis and three of his men. Everyone else was either unconscious, wounded, or possibly dead, depending on the level of mercy Magnus had deigned to show them.

  While Burtis and his three remaining men hesitated to come forward, they still blocked Calum and his friends’ escape, and the storehouse fire still raged behind them.

  “This is your last chance to give up, Calum.” Burtis’s eyes focused on him, then on Axel. “You too, farm boy.”

  “Do I look like a boy to you?” Axel started forward, but Magnus pulled him back.

  “Yes.” Burtis chuckled, and Axel scowled. “Either way, I figure you got ’bout ten minutes ’fore ol’ Scrim gets back with the King’s men. Then you’ll really be in trouble.”

  Calum glanced at Magnus, but he didn’t budge. Facing down Burtis and the idiots from the quarry was one thing, but dealing with trained soldiers…

  “The King’s men don’t take kindly to thieves and murderers.” Burtis tilted his head. “And neither do I.”

  Axel huffed. “I didn’t steal anything from you.”

  “No, but them two did.” Burtis extended his fingers one by one, listing his claims as he glowered at Calum and Magnus. “There’s that pickax in the beast’s hand and the belts strapped to ’im. Then there’s the matter of the beast himself. I own ’im for no small sum, and now Calum’s at fault for his escape.”

  Calum glowered at him. “He escaped on his own, and you know it.”

  “Did he?” Burtis asked. “Then why’d you whack poor Jidon in the head when he tried to stop the Saurian from escapin’? Nearly killed the man. As it is, neither he nor most of the men with ’im are gonna be back to work anytime soon. Or the ones with me, for that matter.”

  “He was gonna kill Magnus.” Relief settled in Calum’s chest. As awful as Jidon had been, he was glad he hadn’t killed the brute. He threw in a smirk for good measure. “And he was a moron.”

  Burtis blinked and stared at Magnus. “It’s got a name now?”

  Calum’s jaw tensed. He didn’t have to defend Magnus, but he would nonetheless. “He’s always had a name. He’s a person too, just like you and me. And like I said before,
we’re not your slaves anymore.”

  “My slaves? You both belong to the King. I’m just one of his many stewards, here to keep you in line.”

  “You’re doing a great job of that,” Axel muttered.

  “But you sided with the Saurian and ran away.” Burtis shook his head. “Did you really think you’d get away with—”

  “Enough talk.” Magnus hefted his pickax higher. “We are leaving. Let us go, and we will not add you to the number of the dead and wounded. Try to follow us, and you will perish this night.”

  “So he talks after all.” Burtis huffed. “Not a word all day, but now you speak?”

  Magnus glared at Burtis, then he refocused on Calum. “Let us go.”

  Burtis didn’t move to stop them, but his gaze fixed on something behind Calum, and he smirked. A twig snapped from the side.

  “Watch out!” Axel yelled.

  Magnus swiveled his hips, pushed Calum to the ground, and swung his pickax. A man soared at him through the air and knocked Magnus to the dirt. When Magnus shoved the man off of him and onto his back, Calum recognized him.

  Jidon lay before him with his head bandaged up—and the pick end of Magnus’s pickax protruding from his chest. Burtis had lied about him being too wounded to work—but now it didn’t matter. He was definitely dead now.

  Burtis roared and lashed his sword, but Axel’s blade caught the blow just before it could reach Calum. Axel threw two haphazard swings, then Burtis jammed his fist into Axel’s gut so hard that it dropped him to the ground, gasping for air.

  Already back on his feet, Calum swung his rake at Burtis’s head, but Burtis batted it away with his forearm and sent Calum flying back with a wild kick to his chest. Then Burtis turned back to Axel and raised his sword as Calum scrambled to his feet again.

  Calum had no hope of stopping Burtis’s swing, but he could knock him off-kilter. He charged forward and drove his shoulder into Burtis’s huge frame, just like he’d done to Jidon earlier. The impact barely knocked him off-balance, but it jarred Burtis enough that his swing thumped into the soft ground instead, missing Axel entirely.

  Burtis retaliated with a ferocious backhand to Calum’s cheek that sent him spiraling back down to the ground, his face ablaze with stinging pain.

  Magnus leveled the three remaining workers in quick successive blows, then he charged toward Burtis, who rolled out of the way. He slashed at Magnus’s gut, and a red line split his yellow belly. A long grunt rumbled from Magnus’s throat, and he pressed his hand against the bleeding wound.

  His cheek still burning from Burtis’s smack, Calum pushed himself to his feet for what felt like the millionth time that day. He started toward the fight, but Magnus caught him by his wrist and pulled him back.

  Magnus’s fingers left bloody red streaks on Calum’s wrist. Magnus winced, pressed his free hand against his gut again, and said, “He is mine.”

  Calum glanced at the red line across his belly and the blood trickling from it. “But you’re—”

  “I am fine,” Magnus insisted. “Help Axel.”

  Axel still lay on his side, gasping for air. He somehow hadn’t ever released his sword, even after Burtis’s punch. Calum darted over to Axel and helped him upright as Magnus started toward Burtis again.

  “You may be bigger,” Burtis growled at him. “But you ain’t never gonna be meaner.”

  Magnus didn’t move aside from breathing. His pickax still protruded from Jidon’s chest, and Burtis now stood between Magnus and Jidon’s body.

  Why hadn’t Magnus reached down to pick up any of the shovels or other tools that lay all around them? It didn’t make sense to Calum.

  Burtis waved his sword in front of him. “C’mon, Saurian. You talk like a human. Bleed like a human. Bet you can die like one, too.”

  When Magnus stepped forward, Burtis stepped back.

  Magnus snorted. “Afraid?”

  “I ain’t afraid of you. Not in the least.”

  “I see torches in the distance.” Axel pointed back toward his family’s farmhouse, but Magnus didn’t look. “Soldiers?”

  “Still time for you to give up,” Burtis sneered.

  Magnus took another step toward him, and Burtis backed up again. This time, Magnus didn’t stop, though. He took two more quick steps after the first, and Burtis swung his sword. At the last instant, Magnus hopped back, and the tip of the blade missed his gut by mere inches.

  Burtis swung his sword again. Magnus spun away from the blow and whipped his tail at Burtis’s head, but Burtis ducked under it. Magnus darted forward again, and Burtis’s sword stabbed toward his gut.

  From Calum’s vantage, it looked as if Burtis had skewered Magnus and his sword now extended out of Magnus’s back, but then a loud snap sounded, followed by a wail from Burtis.

  Burtis’s arm buckled at the elbow—the wrong way—in Magnus’s huge hands.

  Then the tip of Burtis’s own rusty blade rotated toward him, disappeared in the center of his bare chest, and promptly reemerged from his back.

  His eyes wide, Burtis dropped to his knees and rolled onto his side.

  Magnus spat on the ground next to Burtis and wrenched his pickax out of Jidon’s chest. Then, without so much as a word, he grabbed one of the bags of food from the fiery storehouse entrance and headed into the forest.

  Calum looked at Axel, who nodded at him.

  “Come on.” Axel stood to his feet, finally breathing normally again. “I see torches at the edges of the cornfields. The soldiers are getting close. We’d better go.”

  Calum tossed his rake aside and grabbed the bag of food he’d dropped a few feet from the burning storehouse. After a final look back at Burtis and Jidon’s bodies, he headed into the woods and left his old life—and Axel’s burning storehouse—behind him forever.

  Chapter Nine

  Western Kanarah

  For Lilly’s escape attempt, Roderick ordered that she go one day without food. That night, two of Luggs’s goons, Gammel and Adgar, made sure she didn’t eat. They were the same two men who’d carried out the male slave after Roderick knocked him unconscious.

  Colm had tried to sneak her some food once, but they caught him. They stopped the entire procession, hauled him out of the wagon, and gave him five lashes for trying. Then they took his food as well.

  That didn’t stop silly old Colm, though. He’d managed to stash some extra bread crusts somewhere within his weathered cloak, and he waited until Gammel and Adgar thought he was asleep to slide one to her.

  She thanked him with a sad smile. Part of her considered giving it back. After all, she was young and healthy, and he was just a poor old man.

  He flashed her a glimpse at a gold coin he’d taken from Luggs after Lilly had tried to stand up for Sharion, the other slave woman in their wagon. Not just a poor old man—a poor old thief.

  Under the moonlight, Lilly whispered, “How’d you manage to get that off him?”

  “I may be old, but I still have nimble fingers, child.”

  “I’ll say.” She frowned. “Too bad it won’t do us any good while we’re in here.”

  Colm grinned. “I wouldn’t say that. These slave traders love coin more than anything else, and they treasure it even more than loyalty to one another. I know of more than a few men in this bunch who’d trade me an apple, or a bowl of hot soup, or even a chicken leg for this.”

  Lilly’s eyebrows rose.

  “I’d share, of course.”

  A smile cracked her lips, then a chill ratcheted through her body. Without her armor, the night would be long and cold.

  Colm scooted closer and spread his cloak over her shoulders. “Here, child. No need for you to shiver in the night.”

  Part of Lilly wanted to refuse him. It felt awkward and strange to sit so near a man not of her family, someone she’d just met, even in spite of his age—and in nothing but her undergarments, no less—but it was cold. Colm had only helped her thus far, so she inched closer to him, and he curled his arm ar
ound her shoulders.

  “You might think I’m trying to take advantage of you.” He looked down at her. “Well, I am. I confess it.”

  She gawked at him, ready to pull away.

  “Don’t look so surprised. I’m old. The heat leaves my body faster than it used to.” Colm grinned again. “Never fear. I still harbor no interest in you except that you fare well.”

  Lilly exhaled relief and leaned into him, and their shared warmth eased her tension. She rubbed the fabric of Colm’s cloak between her fingers. “Your cloak wouldn’t happen to have any aerosilk in it, would it?”

  He shook his head. “Sadly, no. A luxury I could never afford, save for a few times in my life when the Overlord’s generous blessings seemed to rain from on high. Why do you ask?”

  “If it was aerosilk, I could use it as a replacement cape. Then I could fly out of here.”

  “Is that how it works?”

  “Yes. Windgales need aerosilk in their capes, in significant quantities, in order to fly. The amount can vary from Windgale to Windgale, but in general, about fifty percent or more is necessary.” Lilly watched Sharion dig down into the hay. “Sharion?”

  Her head popped up and she glared at Lilly.

  “Would you care to join us?” Lilly smiled. “There’s room to keep warm over here.”

  “Leave me alone.” Sharion dug back into the hay and disappeared beneath a mound of golden-brown straw.

  “Well, if you change your mind—”

  “I won’t.”

  Lilly smirked, but her amusement faded far too soon. “Roderick mentioned the Pass. Does he mean…?”

  “Trader’s Pass?” Colm nodded. “That he does.”

  Lilly’s breath caught in her throat. They meant to take her to Eastern Kanarah? So far from her family, from her home. And into what? Slavery? To whom?

  “Colm.” Her voice broke when she said his name. “What’s going to happen to me?”

  After a long pause, he squeezed her shoulders. “Easy, child. Best not to ponder a future that may never come. Survive the night, first.”