“Bullshit,” Gormer growled. “I can fucking feel it. Spit it out. We keep secrets and lie to others, but I don’t lie to you, and you don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not lying,” Pleth replied. “I’m just not telling you what’s on my mind.”
“I can go in there and get it,” Gormer said.
He considered it a sad fact that, now that he could poke around in people’s minds without damaging his brain, he chose not to. It seemed that ethical training back in his early days of schooling at the Heights did stick. Now that he was reasonably sober, his conscience wouldn’t let him do many of the things he did before.
But now, he had official sanction from Astrid to lie, cheat, and steal. Spying was going to be a field day for him.
“I don’t think I can do this. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m a coward. I faint at the sight of blood. I can’t—” Pleth began, but was quickly interrupted.
“I betrayed every family that ever tried to love me. I got people killed because I didn’t—I still don’t understand what the fuck love is. When people tell me they like me, my first impulse is to destroy them.”
Behind Gormer, the hoofbeats stopped. “You bastard. I thought you didn’t read minds without consent or necessity.”
“I didn’t,” Gormer said, turning around on his horse. “That’s what’s in my head. I’m telling you why I crossed the Madlands trying to die. I’m telling you why I smoked opium, got into bar fights, stole from Woody and his crew, robbed Assessors and a whole lot worse.”
“Why?” Pleth asked. “Why are you telling me this?”
“You left something off your list,” Gormer said, turning around.
“What?” Pleth asked breathlessly.
“You’re dumb as a goat scrotum.”
“I’m turning back,” Pleth said, voice cracking.
“Gah!” Gormer shouted. “Are you going to make me say it?”
“Yes,” Pleth replied, folding his arms.
“So dense,” Gormer sighed. He turned his horse around and rode the few paces back to Pleth. “We are alike, you numbskull. We’re driven by the same shit. We’ve done horrible things and we don’t know why. Don’t you want to change that?”
Pleth nodded his head.
“I’ve never had a friend like you,” Pleth said.
“You still don’t. I don’t have friends. It’s just that some folks… I don’t hate some as much as others.”
“Now who’s the dumb fuck?” Pleth replied with a stupid, sappy grin on his face.
“I’m gonna puke,” Gormer replied. “If you try to hug me, I’m going to put poop mushrooms in your eggs tomorrow.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Pleth volleyed. “You’re not my type.”
They rode in silence until they got to the perimeter of the bandit camp.
They didn’t use signals at the hideaway. They either killed you or recognized you as a friendly. As they rode into camp, woods people stopped and turned their heads to stare at them.
Pleth hurried a bit and rode his horse closer to Gormer. “They don’t look happy to see us.”
“They’re generally not a happy lot,” Gormer said.
What was once an open field that backed up against an angled rock outcropping was now a collection of four large teepees and three octagonal yurts. Heat waves rose from the tops of the teepees, but no smoke.
Astrid had taught them to make smokeless fires by digging vented pits in the ground. The yurts used some kind of wood stoves that were also not producing smoke.
The camp was well-hidden between two taller ridges. There were only two approaches to the camp, both of them rugged.
“Where’s Woody?” Gormer asked a large, round, glowering woodswoman who sat on a stump sharpening her sword.
She managed to point to the largest teepee while still staring down Gormer.
“Nice talking to you again, Merg,” Gormer said.
She flipped him off, then went back to sharpening her weapon.
A couple of the young attendants ran up to them and took their horses to the stables for care. Gormer pushed open the flap of the teepee and stepped through.
“As I live and breathe,” Woody said. The tent was warm and steamy, enough for Woody to be shirtless.
“Put a damn tunic on, you madman,” Gormer said.
Woody turned to Pleth, and his mood dimmed a bit. He respected Pleth, because Astrid told him he had to, but he didn’t like the man.
“Pleth,” Woody said in a clipped greeting.
Pleth returned the tepid hello.
“Are you going to offer us a seat, or what?” Gormer asked.
“Well, shit,” Woody said, and Gormer realized he was more than a little bit drunk. “You know I can’t stop you.” Woody pulled a chair over to a small wooden table. He gestured to another empty chair.
Pleth took the hint and sat with them.
“So, what have I done to earn the curse of your company?” Woody asked.
“Nice one,” Gormer said. “We need to stay here a few days,” Gormer said. “The rest I can’t tell you, so don’t ask, and tell your people not to ask, either.”
Woody squinted at him for a moment, then shrugged. “You, too, Pleth?” He belched for emphasis. Pleth nodded. “Then you better get that jug over there,” Woody said.
He pointed to a brown, earthenware jug. Gormer hopped up to grab it. He popped the cork and took a gulp.
“This is that beer we stole from that cart more than a month ago,” Gormer exclaimed. “I thought that was all gone.”
“Not all of it,” Woody said with a grin. He tapped the side of his nose with his index finger. “We’re still thieves, remember?”
“How could I forget?” Gormer replied. He handed the jug to Pleth. He mouthed the words “go slow.”
Pleth pretended to chug.
“While we’re waiting,” Gormer said. “How about a card game?”
Woody was about to take a slug when Gormer suggested the game. The jug paused halfway to his mouth. He narrowed his glassy eyes at Gormer. “How do I know you won’t read minds?”
“Of course, I’m going to read minds. That was our scam, remember? That’s what got me locked up two months ago. I see a lot of new faces in camp.”
Woody slammed down the jug and jumped to his unsteady feet. “Are you saying you want me to cheat my fellow woods people!” He growled, but not loudly.
Pleth tensed up and shot bolt upright in his seat.
“Yes,” Gormer said.
“I fucking love you,” Woody replied, and gave Gormer a clumsy embrace that produced an accidental head butt.
Pleth drank a bit more than he intended. By the time they got around to breaking out the deck, he was light headed.
It took Gormer and Woody a while to select the right victims. They kept the card game on the down-low by saying that only a select few were allowed to play. The cover story was that Pleth was a sucker, and they’d need to work him slowly and take their time taking his money.
“Make him a compulsive gambler,” Gormer said. He also seemed distressingly drunk. “We’ll get every wanna-be card badger in the camp in here. Let’s turn all their pockets out.”
“Yeah,” Pleth said. “Pockets. All of them.” He belched.
They had a game with five players going by sundown. Woody made a few runs to bring in more firewood and set it around the walls of the teepee. “This should keep us warm all night.”
“No,” Merg said. “This will keep us warm.”
She shucked off her furs to reveal a tremendous amount of cleavage. She reached between her breasts and removed a pint bottle full of cloudy, green liquid. Her laughter shook her ample belly as she held it up for the crowd.
“Is that…” Woody said.
“Absinthe,” Merg said.
“The greene faerie,” Gormer declared. His mouth watered. Oh no, he thought.
“It’s the real deal,” Merg said. “Made from the bark of the wormwood tree and
warmed in a very, very special place.” She blew a kiss at Pleth, whose face turned completely red. “I like you,” she said. “You’re cute.”
“He’s also married,” Gormer said.
“That usually doesn’t stop men when they get a little liquor in them and they see what I have to offer,” Merg replied.
Before Gormer could object, Woody scrambled for cups while someone else went out to collect snow for water.
“Do you have sugar?” one of the players asked.
“I’m lookin’ at a big lump of sugar right now,” Merg said, blowing Pleth another kiss.
“Oh, no,” Woody said. “Merg, you got it bad. You broke the last man you got hold of.”
“I can’t help it if men are fragile,” Merg replied.
They were careful melting the snow to keep the water nice and cold. Woody put a bit of beet sugar into each cup. Merg was generous with her precious liquor, and a bit more so with Pleth’s cup.
“Who wants to do the honors?” Merg asked when it was time to pour the water.
“I’ve got more experience than you all,” Gormer said. He did, but more importantly, he wanted to switch cups with Pleth, who didn’t follow the advice to go slow. Who knows what Absinthe would do to him? He was clearly not a drinker, and absinthe had narcotic effects.
He poured enough water into each cup until the liquid turned milky-green.
“Go slow,” Gormer said. “I really mean it. This stuff is no joke.”
Woody swirled the mixture in his cup for a moment, then tipped it back and drank it all in one go.
“What a fucking waste,” Gormer said. He took a delicate sip, letting the cool liquid kiss his lips. The flavors revealed themselves like old friends at a costume party as his mouth warmed the drink.
Pleth cast scared looks around the teepee.
“Join us, honey,” Merg said, batting her eyelashes around her big, brown eyes. Her chubby cheeks flushed red. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Pleth couldn’t help himself. He smiled back and took a respectable sip. His eyes went wide and his mouth went slack. “That was… amazing.” He took another, larger sip.
“Slow,” Gormer said as the absinthe wandered through his mind like sweet vapor.
Before he knew it, the cup was empty. They shouldn’t have gone for another round, but Merg insisted. “No sense leaving this little bit,” she said.
“Can’t argue with that logic,” Gormer said. His words felt airy and light, like birds, flying into some field after a rain.
They all drank a second cup. Silence reigned for some unknown time until Gormer said, “My words look for tasty grubs. They peck at you.”
Woody somehow ended up on his back, arms and legs splayed out. His pants, as well as his shirt, were gone. Only his loincloth remained, and nobody seemed to mind. Gormer barely noticed.
“Were we supposed to play cards?” one of the players asked. Gormer never caught his name.
“No,” Gormer said. “You were supposed to play cards. Me and my friend over here were supposed to take all your money by cheating.”
The man smiled back and simply said, “You, too, eh?”
Gormer didn’t mean to, but he read the man’s mind. He blinked for a moment and saw a burst of impossible colors radiating out between all the bodies.
“I can see your intentions,” he said, reaching out a hand to pass it through the visible energy. “I see thoughts now.”
“No, honey,” Merg said. “It’s the absinthe. But isn’t it wonderful?”
“You don’t know what it’s like,” Gormer said. “How can you? How can anyone? The things I feel. The things I’ve seen… the hatred… the love… so much blood…”
He allowed the energy to wash over him. For once, he didn’t try to judge it, deny it, or reject it. He had no idea what it all meant, but he saw it all clearly—the life energy coming from the world around him, the mental energy coming from the people.
It was beautiful, and it filled him with bliss. And then, it wasn’t beautiful. Something else crept in. A predator. Something that wanted them dead. It felt like the same thing that killed his family.
Gormer fell back over in his chair and hit the ground. He didn’t feel the fall. What he did feel was ice and snow under his feet as he climbed the path towards the camp, crossbow in hand. He wasn’t one, but thirty.
He was thirty fighters coming to kill the enemy camp that backed up to a leaning rock outcropping.
He was coming to kill the men and the women who lived in yurts and teepees.
“They’re coming,” Gormer said, sitting bolt upright. “Get your weapons.”
“Gormer, just relax,” Woody said. “Just enjoy this.”
“No!” Gormer shouted. “Now! I saw them.”
“Do it,” Pleth said. “Trust him.”
“Damn it,” Merg said, picking up her shield and short sword. “Woody, let’s go. We need to babysit Gormer through an emotional, drunken bender again.”
Woody picked himself up and shook his head violently, letting his jowls shake freely.
“OK,” he said, “let’s fight our dreams, then.”
“I’d rather be fucking,” Merg said, “but fighting will do.”
The would-be card players pushed out of the teepee and into the frigid night. Merg wore nothing but her leather and fur pants and a loose-fitting top. Woody wore nothing but his boots and a loincloth. The rest were fully dressed and armed.
“OK, mind-man. Where is the damn enemy?” Woody asked.
Gormer closed his eyes for a moment, then ran to the center of the camp and rang the alarm bell. “South hill!” Gormer yelled. “Enemy coming up the south hill!”
The camp exploded into action as men and women fighters grabbed bows, swords, and shields, then took their positions.
Gormer took off towards the south hill.
“OK,” Woody shouted. “Let’s do this thing.” Steam rolled off his bare skin as he sweated profusely in the cold.
“There they are!” someone shouted. “Enemy!”
“He was right!” Merg said. “Stay behind me, sexy man,” she shouted to Pleth, who hadn’t thought to pick up a sword. They all ran close behind Gormer.
As Gormer approached the hill, he saw the intention to kill rising up like a dark, red wave. When he gestured back to Woody to come forward, his hand cast off orange streamers.
“Are you seeing that?” Gormer asked as Woody came up beside him, wild-eyed. He carried a short sword in each hand.
“I feel fuckin’ great!” Woody bellowed, ignoring the question.
Merg showed up with Pleth taking cover behind her wide frame. Gormer felt Pleth’s fear as well. He glanced over his left shoulder and saw Pleth standing on trembling knees.
“Don’t worry,” Gormer said.
The shouts of the enemy merged with the shouting from the defenders. A crossbow bolt hummed by Gormer’s left ear, and he just shrugged.
Merg shrieked and lifted her shield. THOCK, THOCK, THOCK! Bolts sank into the wood.
“Die!” she commanded before charging.
“Kill the fat woman!” one of the enemy screamed.
Merg didn’t like that at all, so split his skull in two, right down to the shoulders, then kicked the man beside him in the balls.
“Fuck you!” she screamed. “You’ll never fucking know, now!”
She grunted when her shin met a steel crotch piece. Gormer stabbed the man in the neck with his dagger, then turned towards another man who rushed him with a short sword. He lost sight of Merg as he squared off against his attacker. Four more took knees in front of him.
Am I dead now? Gormer asked himself. There was no fear, only a mild curiosity as his body seemed to fight on its own.
Woody streaked into view while trailing blood-red streamers of energy. One enemy lost his head and slumped to the ground. The other three died in the snow from slashed necks.
THOOM! THOOM! Went the crossbows, but Merg was there again with
her shield like magic.
Gormer saw it all. He saw what the men intended to do before they did it, and the red streamers lashed out from his body and touched those around him. He was connected to them somehow—all of them—enemies and allies alike.
He was barely conscious of the blood that dripped from his nose, over his upper lip, and down into his mouth. This is what dying feels like, he thought. I’ve been here before.
The vague realization brought him out of the vision just enough to walk through the woods.
The moonlit world suddenly grew dimmer. Something else was in the woods. He knew it as fear, but he didn’t see it, yet. He felt it first. He knew where it was, but whoever cast the energy of fear remained hidden.
Gormer stepped toward the origin as a line of woods people formed up around him. They clashed with the enemy, some prevailing, others falling. The red tendrils connecting him to the rest strained and stretched.
Then, the black tendrils of fear revealed themselves, wrapping around the woods people. They faltered and fell, shrieking like terrified children. Only those connected to Gormer by the red streamers were able to fight. Anyone touched by the dark Reachers felt nothing but terror.
Pleth appeared on his right. He’d picked up an enemy sword and tried to use it. He managed to block one strike, then staggered back. Merg appeared again with her sword to cut the man down.
“We need to stop him!” Gormer yelled and ran forward.
Pleth ran along beside him, eyes wide with confusion. He’d never seen a battle before. Gormer grabbed his arm and pulled him to the left as another crossbow bolt whizzed by.
Fighters screamed behind Gormer as he ran with Woody, Merg, and Pleth towards the source of the living fear. It hid itself behind a tree.
“You are the evil,” a voice screamed inside Gormer’s head. “The remnant didn’t kill you when you were a child because you are just like them. You let your family die. You watched and did nothing. You were evil from birth.”
Gormer was three when his family tried to cross the Madlands. They didn’t make it. Until tonight, the memories of them being slaughtered remained hidden. But now, he saw it all through the eyes of a child. The dark Reachers had swept away all his defenses. All the anger and hatred that he piled up to bury those memories were gone.
Knight's Struggle: Age Of Magic - A Kurtherian Gambit Series (Tales of the Wellspring Knight Book 2) Page 9