WarMage: Unexpected (The Never Ending War Book 1)

by Martha Carr

  After dropping off the jug of milk at a leather shop, she turned and headed back to the cart, where Deacon was looking for his next delivery.

  “You doing okay?” Deacon looked at her sideways, going back to check the next order.

  “It’s a good distraction. I can do a few more. You’re not worried about anybody making off with the milk or Presley, are you? We’re leaving this unattended.”

  Deacon waved off the implication. “Nah, we’ve done this before. These are good people, and there’s no need to steal.”

  Raven pointed at the crowd. “Then why an early draft?”

  “What?”

  “We’re so safe, why pull strong young wizards away from their fields and their jobs?”

  Deacon picked up the next order, balancing the jugs against his chest. “Safe inside the walls.”

  “Yeah, but look at them!” She nodded toward the crowd. “There are old people smiling and hugging them, shaking their hands vigorously. It’s like... They’re being treated as if they’re going into battle. They haven’t even gone to training yet. And nobody’s messed with us in what, over fifty years?”

  “One thing you can count on from politicians and powerful wizards—they won’t tell you much, but if you pay attention, you’ll learn a lot just the same.” Deacon hoisted another jug off the wagon.

  Raven watched the master wizard pass among his recruits, smiling and nodding, but she noticed tension around his eyes. She tilted her head to the side. “They know something.”

  Deacon let out a belly laugh as he walked away. “They always do! Stay out of trouble while I’m gone, Raven.”

  Deep in thought, Raven pulled another jug off the wain and walked up the road to make her next delivery. As she walked along, a large splash of water struck her on the left side of her face. She stumbled to her right and let down the jug carefully. Blinking her eyes, she wiped the water off, the ends of her hair dripping. “What the hell?”

  A young man with dark brown hair and slightly older than her, wearing filthy clothing and dirt all over his face, jogged up to her with a panicked expression. “Oh, I am so sorry!”

  “What is happening?” Raven spat out the words, tasting grit in her mouth. “What a day!”

  “I was just washing the horses, and that last bucket of water got away from me. Don’t worry, it was clean.”

  “Ugh.” She ran her hands through her hair, trying to squeeze out the water. “It’s okay. It was an accident. I appreciate you apologizing.”

  “Of course! I would never do that on purpose.” He patted at her hair with a damp, dirty rag as Raven tried to duck out of the way.

  “We’re good. Okay. Nope, don’t need that.” She held up her hands, doing her best not to touch him. The fragrant smell of horses rose off his skin.

  “Let me start over. My name is Quinn Warren.”

  “Well, Quinn Warren, you need to work on your aim. You didn’t hit me directly or miss me entirely. Kind of a half-measure.”

  Quinn looked at her, startled and not sure what to do. His hand was frozen in mid-air, the rag crumpled in it.

  “It was a joke. It’s okay, I didn’t melt.” She patted her chest, making herself take a deep breath and relax. “I’m Raven, Raven Alby.” She looked past him at the tall pair of Clydesdales standing together. The warm sun was already drying them. “You’re a groomsman?”

  “Yes, but from where I come from, I’m called a hostler. I’m traveling through from the northwest part of the kingdom, a city called Jenkinstown.”

  Raven nodded. “I’ve heard of it. You traveled here last night? What’s it like being on the road? Are you always someplace different?”

  “A lot of the time. I kind of like it, though. You meet new people and see new things, and the food is always changing. Every region has its own specialties. Why so many questions? You have any place in particular in mind?” He walked back to the pair of large brown horses with long hair around their ankles. They were both tied loosely at a post.

  “No, just curious. I’m usually here inside the walls. I don’t get to see the world out there.”

  Quinn gazed around and smiled. “Seems like a nice place to be.” He picked up a stiff brush and rubbed it against the hide of the larger horse. “Good workhorses.”

  Raven grabbed the jug off the ground and wandered over to watch him scrubbing the bellies of the animals. “You do this all day?” She set it back down next to her and watched, mesmerized by the large animals.

  “No, this is just part of what I do. We rode in pulling a large delivery.” He smiled as he moved to the back of the horse, still brushing the thick coat. “Gotta be careful back here. I get too rough, and they’ll make a point of stepping on me. But I’ve built mutual trust with them. I’ve taken care of them for years.”

  “Was this your family business?”

  “It’s not the most glamorous job. And it sure is thankless at times, but it has its benefits.”

  Raven moved closer, rubbing the mane of the smaller horse and staying to the side where the horse could see her. The stallion raised his hoof, slamming it into the mud and splashing her pant leg, giving a loud snort. Raven forgot the pain in her shoulder and laughed, laying her head down on his neck for a moment.

  Quinn glanced at her. “You don’t scare easily, do you?”

  “I’ve been told. Was this always your dream? To be a…”

  “Hostler, yeah, sure, I guess. I’m not sure I gave it a lot of thought. When I was coming up, I was offered an apprenticeship, and I like being outdoors, I like working with animals.” He patted the side of the horse. “Seemed like a good fit.” He eyed her more carefully. “You’re asking a lot of big questions, and you already have a nice decoration there on your shoulder.” He waited patiently, not saying anything as Raven searched for the right words.

  They never came. Raven wasn’t going to share all her secrets and desires with this stranger. “I have to get these deliveries out, but it was nice meeting you.”

  The young man dunked his brush in a bucket to rinse it off. “Nice meeting you too. Sorry again about splashing you. I’ll be more careful.”

  The conversation hung in Raven’s head as she approached The Wrangler, a tavern just off the middle of town. She walked in, heaving the jug of milk at her side and greeting the bartender. “Hey, Zeke, I’ve got your delivery.”

  Zeke greeted her and took the jug, heading to a backroom to get her payment. Meanwhile, three old, bearded barflies nursed their drinks at the bar, staring her down.

  “Hey, that’s Connor’s grandkid, ain’t it?”

  The middle one laughed, exposing his yellow, rotted teeth beneath his filthy, matted beard. “It is! Haven’t seen her doin’ deliveries afore now.”

  “Hey, anything to keep him away from town. The old wizard still can’t show his face around here.”

  Raven rested on the bar. “Excuse me?”

  “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” one of them said. “Your grandpa just can’t face up after surviving when almost everyone else died. Has to be more to that story.” He pointed to a table in the back corner of the bar where two older men sat quietly. “Wizards were the best Brighton had to offer, and then they go and waste it. Crying shame.”

  Raven walked over to the table with the spent wizards who still had an air of controlled dignity. There was a royal blue patch on each of their shoulders. “Doesn’t that bother you?”

  One of them smirked. “Those fellows aren’t worth the worry. Harmless. We have learned to pick our battles, and they’re barely a bothersome gnat.”

  The other lifted his head and gazed at Raven. “You’re an Alby. You look just like him. We all liked Connor. Tell him we miss him.”

  “We still save him a seat. Here all the time. Tell him Joseph says hello.”

  Raven gave him a nod, trying to take in every detail to tell her grandfather later.

  “Here you go, girl!” The bartender stood behind the bar with money for Raven, interrupting
her thoughts. She closed her mouth and waved at the old men. “I’ll tell him.” She took the money from the bartender, thanking him, and headed out.

  They’re our heroes. They deserve more respect.

  Before she left, she paused in the doorway and turned to peer at the men at the bar, leaning over their beers. She squinted one eye at them and muttered, “Effundite Summa” under her breath.

  In an instant, all three of their beers flipped into their laps. They shrieked at the cold splashes on their pants and leaped out of their seats. Raven glanced at the wizards, who chuckled but quickly went back to their conversation, their heads close together. An old lesson from her grandfather came to mind: “Keep watch, and the clues will come together,” she murmured as she stepped outside and headed back to the wagon.

  One by one, Raven delivered jugs of milk to homes and businesses throughout the town, occasionally checking in with Deacon. “We make a good team!” Deacon announced.

  He walked to his next delivery while she carried another jug down the road. A shadow blocked the sun, and she looked up to see a trio of massive dragons soaring over the town, their wings spread out for what seemed like miles. The sun made their skin sparkle even at a distance. One of the dragons dipped and turned, and she caught sight of the rider on his back, artfully holding on and leaning into the flight, the wind blowing back his hair.

  “Dragonriders,” she whispered. So much more to learn.

  Chapter Seven

  Raven made her last delivery and ditched the main road leading to the square, taking a side street to avoid the crowds.

  Blocks away from the center of town, she came across an old man dressed in rags sitting on the edge of the paved sidewalk in front of an old bookstore. In the window was a sign offering to buy or trade used books. His hair hung in dirty clumps around his ruddy cheeks and wrinkled features.

  Although the sun was warm on Raven’s skin, the man was wrapped in a worn olive coat and hunched over with his arms around his body. An old forest-green felt hat was balanced against his wooden leg, and on his shoulder was a royal blue diamond patch from the Order of Master Wizards.

  As people passed by, he would mutter or shout loudly. Most were doing their best to ignore him, but Raven saw a young man toss a coin into his hat and hurry along. Several people crossed to the other side of the street.

  He shook the hat, coins jingling in the bottom. “The end of the world. They’re coming! Be ready to fight! It’s the end of the world. I’ve seen it!” He pounded a cane against the ground, waving his arm.

  Raven reached into her pocket to grab a few coins for his hat, just as three boys walked up to the man, laughing and shoving each other.

  “Crazy old man!”

  “Can’t get a job because you lost your brain, not your leg!”

  “Hey, I’ll race ya!”

  The man swung his cane in a wide swath, narrowly missing them and getting another round of laughter. One of the boys shoved his head, knocking him on his side. “Come on, aren’t you a war hero? I can take you out! No wonder you got hurt!”

  Those little shits. Raven started to cross the street toward them.

  Another one of the boys grabbed the man’s hat, shaking it wildly. “Listen to it jingle! Sounds like you’re making a real killing out here. I bet there’s what, two? Three coins in here?” He dumped the hat in the street and stood over it.

  Raven wasn’t having any of it. She sized up the boys, watching how they moved, who was the leader, where were the weak points.

  Deacon is right, observe everything!

  The tween who had shoved the old man was elbowing the others, urging them on and boasting the loudest. There’s the leader.

  Halfway across the street, she pointed at the boy and whispered, “Mio de te ipso.”

  At once, the boy doubled over with a panicked look on his face and moaned. His leg twitched, and he shook his head in confusion. “No, wait. What…” He gritted his teeth and stood still as his muscles relaxed. When he straightened, a large wet stain darkened the front of his pants.

  “Dude!” one of them shouted, pointing and laughing. “Really? Did you just piss your pants?”

  “I... I don’t, uhh…” The young man turned red in the face, clenching his fists. He growled at the old man but sprinted away, shouting he’d be back. His friends laughed and jostled each other, taking off in a different direction.

  The old man sat back up and brushed off his dirty jacket, then used his cane to stand. Raven retrieved his hat and set it down in the center of the coins, picking them up using her good arm.

  One of the silver coins had rolled a few yards away. Raven walked over to the coin but was beaten out by another man who bent over to pick up the currency. The young man flipped it, caught it in his palm, and was about to tuck it into his pocket.

  Raven gave him a stern look. “Hand it over.” She extended her hand and glared.

  He took a step back and attempted to walk past her, smiling a toothy grin. “Have to get a little faster if you want to get ahead.”

  “You’re not from around here, are you?” A flash of anger sped through her body. “Enough is enough,” she protested.

  She squeezed her eyes shut and summoned some of her energy, letting it pour into her hand, ignoring the increased level of pain in her other arm, radiating down from the shoulder. She grabbed him by the back of his neck, letting the energy pulse through him, making his eyes widen and bulge out in surprise as his chest tightened. He gasped for air. “Didn’t your mother raise you not to take something that isn’t yours? Fork it over.”

  She let go and let out a rush of air, stumbling back a step. She caught herself and stood firm, waiting for the young man to turn over what didn’t belong to him.

  “What did you just do? Never mind…” He saw the look of determination on Raven’s face despite the sling on her arm. His hands trembled as he handed it to her. He took off at a trot, his hand on a knife sheathed at his side that she had failed to see at first. She froze for a moment and thought about what everyone had been saying to her all day long. “Having power is but the start,” she muttered.

  She walked to the old man and handed him the coin as he looked at her with a cocked eyebrow. “You got lucky,” he said. “The only reason he didn’t use that knife was you surprised him with that move.”

  Raven went for the hat and handed it over. “It’s been a long day.”

  “You have a lot of them? Might want to consider meditation.” He rubbed his nose on his sleeve, pulling the hat closer. “Pretty good with a spell. Didn’t even see you say anything.” He was watching her closely, tilting his head to the side. “Like you were just thinking about it.”

  The man began humming to himself, tapping his teeth with a dirty fingernail.

  Raven nodded and started to walk away when he grabbed her by the arm.

  “Hey! What are you doing?” Startled, she fell back against him for a moment, the smell of sweat and grass rising off him.

  The man grabbed her wrist, pulling her closer until she was looking him square in the eye. His hot breath was right in her face.

  “Seriously, I like my personal space all to myself, and you’re gonna need to let go.” Raven pulled back, and he reluctantly let go.

  “You have to hear me,” he said. “I see you’re special. You could help. They think I’m crazy, but I’m not. I have seen death. Stared at it, right in its soulless face. Evil like that can’t die! It’s coming back. Your magic could help us! It’s strong in you, I saw that! If we’re not prepared, it truly will be the end of the world.” He jabbed her hard with his finger, leaning on his cane. “Or at least the end of us!”

  Raven pulled back in horror at his shouting, looking around to see who had heard his rants, but no one was paying much attention. She took a step closer to him. “Are you okay?”

  “They’re coming back. Watch the horizon for a red sky. The old telltale warning. The fight isn’t over, and your kind will have to lead the way th
is time!” He hissed out the words, curling his hand into a fist. “Tell the others, and tell them Peter is still ready to fight!”

  “What is coming back? Who are you going to fight?”

  “The Smithey Ranch! Remember the Smithey Ranch!” His eyes filled with fear, and he snapped his mouth shut, staring at her. “No! No! Watch for the warning!”

  Raven pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, frustrated. “You’re reliving the past, aren’t you?” she said, her voice softening. She patted him on the shoulder and took a few steps back, keeping an eye on him.

  “Pay attention. It’s the only way you’ll know in time. Gather the ones just like you. It’ll take all of you.”

  “Day definitely has a theme to it. A little crazy with a dash of watch out.”

  The old man sat. He exhaled and pulled the green hat near his wooden leg. He glanced at Raven. “Don’t forget,” he whispered and stared at some shoppers piling out of the bookstore.

  Raven took another step back, shaking her arm, trying to be rid of the feeling of foreboding. “It’s the start of some kind of adventure, but what? Two missing ranch hands, a family leaves their ranch, and an old veteran goes on a general rant. Not much of a story. I need more information.” She turned to go back up the road to the wain. “I mean, I’m an Alby, right?”

  When she reached the wain, Deacon sat atop it, tapping his foot. Presley was untied, gently tugging at the reins. “It’s about time! What took you so long? Did you get lost in your hometown?” He laughed and slapped his knee. “Good one.”

  Raven stared forward. “No. Just talking to an old man and” no use explaining it “took a break. My shoulder was bothering me.” Not a lie.

  They rode back mostly in silence, Deacon occasionally pointing out a six-point buck running behind the third layer of trees or a fox darting back and forth. Raven tried to pay attention, but she was still going over all the pieces, trying to make sense of it. By the time they arrived back at the ranch, the other hands had wrapped up the day’s work. Raven collected the payments as Deacon walked Presley back to the stable. “Thanks for your help today. Much appreciated,” he said, leading Presley away.