Knight's Struggle: Age Of Magic - A Kurtherian Gambit Series (Tales of the Wellspring Knight Book 2)

by P. J. Cherubino

  Adi frowned. “Will we have to leave our house again? I like it here. The Pixie lady has my medicine, and I don’t want to leave Charlie.”

  Both Moxy and Charlie were kid’s favorites. They drew crowds of children most of the time.

  Pleth felt a lump in his throat. “This is our home. Nobody’s going to make us leave our friends.”

  Karla surprised Pleth, then. “Your father has a very important job to do. Astrid herself gave him orders.”

  At that, Crina came out of the little area behind a curtain that served as a bedroom for her and her brother. “Is it about what happened to that boy on guard duty?” She glanced down at Adi.

  “What happened?” Adi asked, fear making his large blue eyes wider.

  “You’re a big boy,” Pleth said. “It’s time we stopped sheltering you.” He knelt down by his son. “A few nights ago, one of the woods people was killed.”

  Adi looked angry then. “The bad men,” he hissed.

  Pleth nodded. “I’m going to Ward 52 with Mr. Gormer. We’re going to spy on the bad men and find out what they are planning.”

  “I hate them,” Adi growled. “Will you fight the bad men?”

  Pleth sighed. “No, son. I’m not a fighter. That’s not who I am. But I can do something.”

  “I understand, Father,” Adi said.

  Pleth gave his son a hug. “I believe you do understand, son.” He was surprised that this seemed to be true.

  Pleth hugged his daughter, picked up his rucksack, and left before he lost it completely.

  Out in the cold, the tears already began freezing to his face.

  “That took a long fucking time,” Gormer declared, suddenly behind him.

  Pleth jumped as if to catch his own heart that threatened to escape. “Don’t do that!” he stammered, voice rising a couple octaves. “Scared the fuck out of me!”

  Gormer just smiled. “I can see we have some work to do.”

  “The work of giving me a fucking heart attack?” Pleth said, adjusting the rucksack that nearly fell off his shoulder.

  “No,” Gormer said. “But getting you more comfortable with fear.”

  “So, we’re not going right to Ward 52?”

  “Nope. We’re going to spend a couple more days training. It’s time for your advanced learning course.”

  Pleth narrowed his eyes. “I don’t like the sound of that. What’s involved?”

  “Cheating at cards,” Gormer said. “Against the woods people. The meaner and more violent, the better.”

  Pleth stopped in his tracks. The biting air felt even colder. The look on Gormer’s face told Pleth he was deadly serious.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Visit to The Caves

  The day after David’s funeral, Astrid headed out with Vinnie and Tarkon to the Caves, the place where Woody’s Tribe had their stronghold. Astrid also believed that the Caves were one of the keys to success.

  The only problem was that she wasn’t exactly sure how to define success.

  She knew that they had to take Keep 52. Of that, she had no doubt. The open questions were what happened after that.

  Once she took a keep, that meant she was capturing and holding land. She had no illusions that, after taking Keep 52, that she’d be at war with Protector Lungu.

  So far, they’d just been outlaws avoiding the long, corrupt hand of unjust enforcement.

  But, to fight a war, Astrid would need an entirely different set of assets. For starters, she’d need an army. She was well on her way to having one.

  But armies were only as good as their training and weapons. She could check part one off that list. The woods people were natural soldiers. They just needed guidance and discipline. That left the question of weapons.

  For that, she had Vinnie and the Caves.

  In the far north of the Protectorate, the Caves were in a region of high, jagged peaks and rugged terrain. The same features that kept it safe from Protectorate interference were the same features that made it hard to get to, especially in winter.

  But the woods people had been living in those caves for decades. They had access to food, water, and shelter.

  But the word ‘caves’ wasn’t quite accurate. The mountain had been carved out by the New Ancients centuries ago. They were mines. One part of the mountain contained coal, but deeper inside, there was copper and iron.

  Tarkon was particularly excited about the prospect of the latter.

  “The New Ancients had magic machines. They had magic that somehow powered the devices,” Tarkon said. “When you go into the mine, many of the walls meet at nearly perfect right angles.”

  “I’ve never been inside,” Astrid said. “I was busy killing Lungu’s son the last time I was here.”

  They’d been traveling all morning and the day was inching towards noon. They were close now, just a couple more hours. Progress took twice as long in the snow, but Vinnie had several ideas on how to decrease transit time.

  Vinnie could restrain himself no longer. “Tarkon,” he said in the tone that told them he was about to start a lecture. “It wasn’t magic that the New Ancients had. In fact, we may not have magic either.”

  Tarkon flinched at the statement. May the Matriarch forgive you for saying that,” Tarkon replied in somber tones. He’d been over this many times with Vinnie, whose theories offended his beliefs.

  But Vinnie continued all the same. “The New Ancients had technology. Their machines were the result of centuries of learning and trial and error until they taught themselves how to build everyday wonders.

  “They had machines that flew high in the air, floating cities that carried five thousand people across the seas. They had wheeled carts that traveled many times faster than the fastest horse.”

  “None of that saved them from just one, really bad day,” Astrid said. She had been waiting to hit him with that for at least a week.

  Vinnie went on unfazed. “I agree,” he said, to Astrid’s great disappointment. “But they somehow discovered a different form of technology that we call magic.”

  “You’re insane,” Tarkon said. “To deny the very thing that you call on to do your magic.”

  “I respectfully disagree, my friend,” Vinnie replied. “The difference between magic and technology is understanding how it works.”

  “We’re getting closer,” Astrid said.

  The rugged trail leveled out, and they guided their horses over a rocky berm and onto a wide road. In the spring and summer, the road was nearly impossible to see from downslope. It was difficult enough to spot in winter.

  “We got lucky,” Tarkon said. “Any more snow cover, and we’d be days away from getting here.”

  Vinnie just smiled. Astrid caught his expression, and that made her wonder. She knew him well enough to understand he was holding something back. Sometimes, Vinnie liked surprises. Astrid did not, but she let this one ride.

  They heard a bird call, then another. Astrid whistled back, and they all stopped their horses and waited. A third bird call told them that they were all clear.

  About a mile up the road, they came to a place where the pines leaned in towards each other. Large boulders bordered the way. An old man appeared on top of one with a bow. Then an old woman appeared beside him.

  Three more oldsters slipped out of the woods.

  “I remember you, Pete,” Astrid said to a burly old man with a nasty-looking spear in his hand. The weapon resembled a harpoon.

  “And I you, young lady,” Pete said. He fixed her with a broad grin devoid of front teeth and made a lewd gesture with his tongue.

  The old woman beside him punched him in the gut and slapped the side of his head. He barely flinched, then pushed the old woman back. She barely moved.

  Astrid shook her head. “I don’t believe I’ve ever met any people tougher than you folks.”

  “Flattery will get you nowhere,” the old woman on the rock called. She scrambled down the boulder like a person half her age, however old that may ha
ve been.

  “Speak for yourself,” the man beside her said. He had more trouble getting down off the rock and appeared to be much older.

  The Cave was home to the youngest and the oldest among the woods people. It was also the place where they cared for those who couldn’t care for themselves—those with disabilities, both mental and physical.

  In her travels, Astrid had come across communities that killed old people as well as those who couldn’t contribute physically.

  The woods people were tough. They were good at killing. When necessary, they stole and raided commerce to survive, but they took care of their own. They never abandoned or neglected anyone who was part of their tribe.

  “Let’s get to it, then,” the oldest man said. He used his long bow as a cane. Astrid noticed that someone had added a sort of foot to the bow for that reason. “Gertrude is waiting.”

  As they made their way up the path, more people appeared from the woods. By the time they got to the mouth of the cave, twenty people had come out to greet them.

  A short, squat girl with a round face lumbered out from the crowd and gave Astrid a tight hug. She almost had to draw from the Well to withstand it. She stared up at Astrid with bright, tiny eyes and a pure, infectious smile.

  “You’re the big fight woman!” the girl said. “You saved my daddy!”

  “Oh, ah…” Astrid said, trying to recover. She was rarely caught off guard. She’d spent some time in the camp, but the fight was so chaotic, she couldn’t remember who this girl’s father might be.

  “Let her alone now, Sarah,” Gertrude said as she threaded her way through the crowd.

  Her long, brown robes of coarse material hid a strong and slender frame beneath. Astrid lost count of the much younger men Gertrude had killed with a pair of long daggers.

  “Do you still have your blades, Gertrude?” Tarkon asked with his scariest bloodthirsty grin.

  “I do,” Gertrude said, pulling one from her sleeve in a flash. “I was hoping to see you again. If I were forty years younger, I’d have you in my bed.”

  “You flatter me,” Tarkon said with a deep bow. “But my heart belongs to another.”

  “Good for you,” Gertrude said. “I was never much for romance, but I should have known it, the way you looked at that… what was she?”

  “She’s a Pixie,” Tarkon replied with a bemused grin. “I didn’t know it myself.”

  “Men never do,” Gertrude said, turning around. “Welcome back.”

  They moved into the cave as a procession. Astrid had a hard time fielding all the questions that came at her.

  “Ah, Vinnie,” she said. “A little help here?”

  Vinnie tapped into his considerable charm and distracted everyone while Astrid caught up to Gertrude.

  “Have you eaten?” Gertrude asked.

  “Dried meat and dried apples,” Astrid said.

  “That’s not eating,” Gertrude replied.

  They’d broken away from the crowd, and Gertrude motioned Astrid deeper into the cave. Tarkon and Vinnie finally caught up to them. Gertrude peeled some moss from a wall and wadded it up into a ball. Picking up a glass-enclosed box, she stuffed the moss inside. A soft, green glow filled the cavern. It came from the leaves on thin, translucent vines that grew from patches of moss on the wall.

  Vinnie gasped. “I’ve never seen plants like this.”

  “We discovered them long ago,” Gertrude said. “They seem to be here just for us.” She smiled. “Our people came here more than a century ago.”

  “The evictions have been going on that long?” Astrid asked.

  “No,” Gertrude replied. “We don’t all come from the villages.”

  Vinnie took the conversation in another direction before Astrid could pursue Gertrude’s statement.

  “May I take a sample of these plants?” he asked.

  “Sure,” Gertrude said. She handed the glass box to Astrid.

  When she moved the box closer to the plants on the wall, they glowed brighter.

  Vinnie gasped again. “They’re reacting to the moss you put in the glass box.”

  “Bright boy…” Gertrude said.

  Vinnie nearly tripped over himself after he took samples and walked along sniffing, poking, squeezing, and otherwise examining the strange plants. His massive belly pushed Astrid into Gertrude when they all stopped but him.

  “Scuci,” Vinnie said.

  “What?” Gertrude said.

  Vinnie cleared his throat and awkwardly put his botanical sample away.

  They’d turned down a narrow passage and ended up in a cozy, dome-shaped chamber carved out of the rock. A small fire burned in a cubby hole that was chipped out of the rock. The smoke went up, so Astrid assumed there must have been some kind of vent.

  Gertrude saw her looking. “There’s shafts all around here to vent the smoke and let air circulate. I dug my way into that one damn near fifty years ago, back when I could still swing a pick.”

  She sat down heavily in a chair fashioned from leather straps and unfinished wood.

  “You gotta stand, big man,” Gertrude said. “Got no chair to handle ya.”

  Vinnie smiled and gave a small bow. “I’d be happy to sit on your floor,” he said, graciously.

  Gertrude gave him a curt nod, and Vinnie lowered himself down smoothly into a cross-legged position. Astrid and Tarkon pulled up chairs and the three made a triangle.

  “So, what do you want from the Caves?” Gertrude got right to the point.

  Astrid nodded to Vinnie, who jumped right in. “We want labor. I want to teach you how to manufacture weapons. Specifically, a new type of crossbow I’ve designed. Tarkon would like to set up a forge to practice his craft.”

  “We got a forge,” Gertrude said. “We know craft. You talk to me like we know nothing.”

  Vinnie was taken aback. “Please forgive me, signora,” he said. He shot to his feet in a flash and bowed deeply. He spoke in some new ancient language that nobody understood, then followed it up with an apology. “The last thing I want to do is insult you. I meant no disrespect.”

  “But you do insult me, and you do show disrespect,” Gertrude said. “What’s in this for us, besides more bleeding? My damn fool of a nephew, Woody, has our clan fighting a war.”

  Astrid held back a smile. If Vinnie saw what she was doing, he was certainly brilliant at hiding it. The old woman was going after the hard bargain.

  “What Vinnie means to say is that we can increase your capacity. As far as what you have to gain.” Astrid leaned forward. “How would you like to be rich?” She nodded at Tarkon.

  The Forge Monk raised his hands, and his eyes glowed black, almost seeming to catch fire. He turned in his chair and pointed his palms at the wall to his right. A stream of pure, glowing copper dust sizzled as Tarkon pulled it from the rock. He closed his hands around the fine dust and squeezed his palms together.

  Tarkon opened his eyes and opened his glowing hands. A perfect copper sphere lay in his palm.

  Gertrude sat with insouciance that seemed hard to maintain. She cleared her throat and said, “My wall is discolored now.”

  Astrid glanced over. A misshapen, pale splotch had appeared in the dark gray, nearly-black stone.

  “This is pure copper,” Tarkon said. “I can conjure forth pure iron and carbon and other minerals to make the finest steel in Irth.”

  Vinnie smiled and declared, “My magic can expand your home. I have the power to displace rock and soil. I can create tunnels anywhere.” His eyes turned black, then red as the lava flowed behind them again.

  “Don’t demonstrate!” Gertrude said as the ground began to tremble. “I see… I see… I believe.” Astrid almost laughed. Of course, trembling ground was the biggest fear of anyone who lived underground. “Can you conjure gold?” Gertrude asked.

  “I can,” Tarkon said. “But gold is the most sacred metal to my order. The gold I produce is not for mere currency.”

  “Together we can turn your h
ome into an underground city,” Vinnie said. “When Astrid prevails over Lungu, the Caves will soon be rich.”

  “I’m not asking to be rich,” Gertrude said. “Don’t get me wrong. It’d be nice. I want to give my people a better life. Always have. I want them to be healthy and happy.” She thought for a moment while the others held back their breaths, waiting for a decision. “Also,” she continued. “It would be nice to put a thumb in the eye of that talking badger cock, Lungu.”

  “So, does that mean—” Vinnie began

  “I’m in,” Gertrude said. “We need more food. Especially meat and cheese.”

  “Cheese might be hard to come by,” Astrid said.

  “Cheese,” Gertrude said, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair. “And I mean the good stuff. The kind they eat in their cozy fucking pleasure huts in the Fortress Wards. The kind of cheese Lungu himself eats.”

  “Cheese it is, then,” Astrid said. “My cheese is my word.”

  It was the first time she’d heard Gertrude laugh.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The Hideaway Camp

  Gormer could feel the the fear and anxiety coming from Pleth like waves of heat. The meditation exercises Astrid had shown him were paying off in ways he hadn’t imagined. Even back at the Heights, when he was still trying to be a mystic, he’d never experienced things like this.

  It was almost too much. At times like this, he wished he still had his opium. People who practiced mental magic used a bit of alcohol to deal with the effects of living with the thoughts of others. But, true to his self-destructive ways, Gormer had turned to hard drugs. Astrid and Moxy got him away from the habit, but there were times…

  There was a reason that human beings weren’t born with hearing each other’s thoughts. Gormer could barely handle his own. He reached into his coat for the vial of Moxy’s special elixir. The herbal blend helped him deal with withdrawal. He took half the vial and returned it to its pocket close to his heart.

  “What’s going on back there, Julius?” Gormer asked.

  “Nothing,” Pleth replied in morose tones.