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

by P. J. Cherubino

  So, this is what blood poisoning feels like, she thought. She had lost many hours, but was able to tell it was the day of her execution by the number of times she saw slivers of dusk and dawn poking between the thin metal bars high on the wall of her cell.

  The magic still kept her alive. Three days now. She’d never drawn from the Well this long. It healed her constantly. But how long could it last? Wanting to know the answer to that brought only mild curiosity now.

  When the door banged open, she didn’t even jump. Footsteps hurried to her. Someone kneeled down.

  “I’m a friend,” he whispered. “Help is on the way. Hang on. Sorry for what’s about to happen.”

  “Hey!” another voice screamed. “Stop feeling her up, you sick fuck! Out of the way unless you want to get wet.”

  The man had put a hand on her shoulder, but she didn’t realize it until he grabbed the shoulder of the rags that served as her clothes and pulled. The tunic was torn away. Another rough pull on her pants, and she was naked on the straw.

  Someone threw an icy bucket of water over her. Thank you, she almost said aloud. They had no idea how refreshing that felt.

  “On your feet, prisoner,” the first guard said.

  Astrid stood slowly, and the men before her came into focus. They were afraid. There were five; three soldiers and two guards. The soldiers had swords pointed at her.

  The boss guard had a bundle of cloth in his arms. “We’re going to unlock the collar. If you try to fight, or even resist at all, these men will cut your fucking head off. Got that, bitch?”

  Astrid smiled with black eyes that saw far more than the boss guard knew. “When this is over,” Astrid said. “I’m going to find you and snap your neck like a dry stick.”

  The boss guard motioned again, and his subordinate threw another bucket of water on her. Astrid pretended to flinch and recoil, hoping the show would bring another refreshing bucket. She was out of luck.

  The first man unlocked the collar as the guards surrounded her. Sword points scraped the skin at her neck and ribs. She had a choice to make. The water had revived her enough to fight. It was hard for her to estimate her chances. She only knew they were slim.

  Very slim.

  Astrid decided to take her chances with the man who had whispered in her ear. She knew that Gormer and Pleth had made contacts. That’s what she sent them here for. It was really Gormer she trusted.

  That’s when it hit her. The voice in her head the other day belonged to Gormer. He had to have been close. The anger at the risk he took pushed passed the pain. Stupid risk, she thought. What the hell did I tell you? Play it safe, I said.

  “Hurry up!” the boss guard said.

  “She can’t,” the first guard said. “She’s all fucked up.”

  “Well then put it on her, you jackass,” the boss said.

  “Lift your arms,” the first guard shouted.

  Astrid lifted her arms. The guard shook out the garment and slipped it over her head.

  “Sorry,” he managed to whisper again.

  “What the fuck?” one of the soldiers exclaimed. “What did you say to her?”

  “I’m about to be executed,” Astrid said quickly, thinking on her unsteady feet. “And you call me a slut? Fucking animal.” She moved forward just an inch and managed to whisper. “Hit me.”

  The guard did as Astrid commanded and punched her in the gut. She absorbed the blow like nothing and made a show of doubling over. Compared to the burning that had now spread to every muscle, the punch was a mere tickle.

  It was only when they marched her out of the cell that she realized they’d covered her in a clean, gray, burlap robe. In contrast to the rags, it felt like a formal gown. She could work with that.

  Astrid could not help herself. “All dressed up and nowhere to go,” she quipped.

  The boss guard moved to strike her.

  “Enough!” Lungu boomed. The guard froze in place. “She will hang just minutes from now. Permit her some dignity.”

  “My dignity is something you can’t permit,” Astrid replied, holding her head high. “I never lost it. The Well—”

  “Oh, ‘the Well, the Well,’” Lungu mocked in a childish voice. “Your way is weak. You prove it on your way to the gallows.”

  It was then that Astrid realized Lungu was sober. Her heightened senses didn’t detect any alcohol.

  Good, she thought. It will be a fair fight. On the heels of that, she tried not to guess when her friends would come for her. It was crucial for her to keep her expectations neutral.

  Each step up from the dungeons to the courtyard was agony. Her knees felt like they were joined with mortar—like bricks grinding together during an earthquake.

  Lungu stopped halfway up the stairs and cocked his head. “I don’t hear anything,” he said. “Did the gate guards let in the crowds?” Nobody spoke. “I asked a question!” Lungu barked.

  The boss guard cleared his throat. “Yes, Protector. The courtyard is full.”

  “Impossible. Why are they silent?” Lungu asked.

  They kept climbing, and Lungu made them all hurry until the lead soldier pushed open a door made from heavy timber and iron bolts.

  The dawn light blinded her, but Astrid was grateful to feel the sun on her skin. She closed her eyes and savored fresh air.

  “That’s right, bitch,” the boss guard jeered. “Enjoy that breath. It will be one of your last.”

  Someone pushed Astrid, and she stumbled forward again. They were on a raised walkway that led from the door and into a courtyard where a permanent gallows stood on a stone foundation. Astrid didn’t pay much attention to the heavy beams. A quick glance told her the structure had been there for many decades.

  She decided at first glance she would burn it down at some point. But killing Lungu was the first order of business. Everything else was a passing fancy.

  The boss guard fell back as they approached the gallows, and Lungu reached back to grab Astrid’s arm. He paused for a moment when he felt how hard her muscles were. In his arrogance, he willfully ignored it. He was so sure he’d won. Astrid knew better.

  “Hood or no hood?” the executioner asked. His dead eyes and expressionless face made him look the part.

  “What the fuck do you think?” Astrid spat back.

  “No hood. You have my respect,” the executioner replied.

  Lungu shot the man a look that might have killed. Literally. Astrid was jarred to unreality once again by the strange admiration she felt for the executioner. The strange man slowly rolled his eyes towards Lungu and met his gaze without a hint of fear, or any emotion at all, for that matter.

  Lungu blinked. “I remit the prisoner to you to carry out the sentence.”

  If you can weird out a vicious bastard like Lungu, you have my respect, Astrid thought.

  “I accept the prisoner as Chief Executioner of the Lungu Protectorate.”

  Lungu stepped forward on the gallows and looked out over the crowd. Until then, Astrid hadn’t noticed them. The courtyard must have been two-hundred square. It was packed.

  Everyone wore black. Everyone was silent.

  Lungu cocked his head. His brow furrowed at the sight. He looked confused for a moment.

  “Last chance to let me go,” Astrid offered. “Come to your senses, before it’s too late.”

  Lungu suppressed a snicker. The crowd was far enough away from the gallows that they couldn’t hear. A ring of guards with spears kept them back from the gallows.

  “A brave fool to the last,” Lungu said, shaking his head. “I’ll take that as a unique plea for your life.”

  “No,” Astrid said. “It’s a plea for yours. I’m going to hate messing up that handsome face of yours.”

  “Flattery?” Lungu said, clicking his tongue. The Protector cleared his throat.

  He’s enjoying this, Astrid thought as the executioner nudged her forward.

  “This way please. I am a professional, so this will be quick,” he said.
His touch was almost gentle. “You won’t feel pain.”

  “I’ve never met such a polite executioner before,” Astrid said.

  “Why be otherwise?” the man asked. His voice was still flat, and that added yet another surreal note to the situation. “I won’t cinch the noose until it’s time.”

  “Thank you,” Astrid said, and almost burst out laughing. I just thanked the man who is about to kill me. “Do you find life very strange sometimes?”

  “I’m an executioner,” the man replied with a shrug. Astrid did laugh then.

  But the crowd did not. As soon as the noose went around her neck, people began to sob.

  Watching him, Astrid knew Lungu understood something was wrong. She was certain that he was too deluded by his arrogance to understand that the crowd came there to mourn, not to celebrate.

  In the crowd

  When Gormer’s eyes turned white and began to glow, the hair stood up on the back of Pleth’s neck. Gormer felt it as if Pleth’s prickling skin was his own.

  “What was that?” Pleth gasped. “I’m in ice water.”

  “Sorry,” Gormer said. “I need your mind.”

  “You got it,” Pleth replied. “But I don’t have to like it.”

  Gormer stepped forward into the crowd from the gatehouse side door. Their contacts had come through. They were on their own, though. Getting to that doorway used the last favor from the last known ally they had in the Fortress.

  “Are you sure about this?” Pleth asked.

  Gormer didn’t answer with his voice. He felt the answer ‘yes,’ and Pleth felt it, too.

  “Oh,” Pleth thought with his conscious voice.

  “Don’t think too much,” Gormer projected. “Stay calm. Breathe deeply.”

  Gormer felt Pleth’s mind relax. He saw what Pleth saw. Four sets of eyes became one and weaved together threads of perception.

  At first, it was almost too much. Gormer knew what he had to do and had no doubt he would make it happen. But when it did happen, that was another story. As soon as he let the magic happen, he became huge and the world became small. Usually, it was the other way around.

  Threads of color—more like wisps of smoke—coiled and curled everywhere. At first, the colors made sense; red was for anger, yellow for fear, gold for love, and so on. But then, as the smoky threads passed through him, he cared less about what the colors meant.

  Straight, black lines shot out at him from the crowd. The part of him that he still knew as Gormer knew them as sightlines. People were looking at him. Effortlessly, almost subconsciously, Gormer sent information back down those sightlines.

  “Just another person.”

  “Just another guard.”

  “Another old woman.”

  “Another old man.”

  Gormer willed them to see him as he wanted to be, so he could walk straight into the crowd with his bow in his hands and his quiver over his shoulder.

  “It’s OK,” Gormer said with his physical voice. “I don’t feel pain. The magic doesn’t rip me anymore.”

  “You’re fooling all these people,” Pleth said aloud. Then, he realized his mistake.

  Gormer chuckled lightly, “Well, not if you keep saying things like that.”

  Pleth almost laughed aloud but stopped himself. He felt what Gormer felt, and that was perfectly calm, almost giddy.

  When Lungu raised his voice above the crowd, Gormer froze. The energy Lungu put into the air put him at risk. He knew that instinctively, so he stopped about a hundred feet from the gallows.

  “It’s too far,” a voice chimed in. He knew that voice. It sounded like his own, but it wasn’t. It was just the part of him that he didn’t want anymore. “It’s OK” Gormer said to that other self. “Shh…We have this.”

  “This stranger comes to our land and threatens us!” Lungu bellowed. “She mocks our institutions! She makes cause with bandits, with thieves! She makes war on us! If she does not respect me, the rightful authority of this land, she does not respect you! For your protection, and for the high crimes she has committed against the Protectorate, I sentence Astrid Sala, the stranger, to death!”

  “Too far,” the voice said again. It was panicked. “It’s OK, Gormer,” he replied to himself. “You don’t have to doubt anymore.”

  Lungu raised his hand. The executioner gently nudged Astrid forward over the trapdoor and cinched the noose. “You can rest now,” he declared. “Be at peace.”

  In one, smooth motion, the executioner reached over and pulled back hard on a lever.

  The crowd gasped as Gormer released the magic and focused his entire being into drawing back his bow.

  Astrid dropped through the trap door and the rope went taut the instant the arrow struck it. The arrowhead glanced off the line, snapping half the strands. The weight of Astrid’s body turned the rope into a stiff column.

  Gormer held his breath in a moment of utter despair. Then, the rope snapped and bounced upward.

  “There!” one of the guards screamed. “In the crowd! Seize them!”

  The guards all turned towards Gormer and Pleth, who looked at each other with stupid grins on their faces.

  “Well,” Pleth shrugged. “She ordered us not to die during this mission.”

  “I guess our mission’s over,” Gormer replied and stuck out his hand.

  “Nice knowing you,” Pleth said, still grinning.

  “It’s been a privilege. I would say honor, but I still don’t have any of that.”

  Pleth laughed, and the two shared a clumsy embrace as the guards pushed the crowd aside and rushed at them from all sides.

  BOOM! The ground jumped beneath their feet. People screamed and most fell to the ground that seemed more like an ocean.

  Gormer and Pleth found themselves lying in the dirt in a pile of confused people who all tried to stand.

  “The fat guy,” Gormer said. “He’s here.”

  Pleth rolled onto his back and laughed hysterically.

  Beneath the Gallows

  Astrid hit the ground and her knees buckled. She wasn’t dead. She knew that instantly because the pain she thought could get no worse, suddenly got worse. She was busy pulling herself to her feet while working out her plan for killing Lungu when the ground seemed to sneeze.

  She fell again.

  The soil opened up inches from her and a familiar, bearded face appeared at eye level. Vinnie smiled for a second on seeing Astrid, then gasped when he saw how deathly her face looked. She was so relieved to see him, she didn’t bother getting up.

  “I know,” Astrid groaned. “I feel as bad as I look. You are just in time.”

  Vinnie scrambled out of the tunnel, and Moxy simply popped up. She jumped so hard that she nearly hit her head on the ceiling ten feet up. Tarkon scrambled up a moment later.

  Moxy landed in a crouch beside her and sniffed the air. “She smells like death,” Moxy declared in a quivering voice.

  “There’s something implanted in my back,” Astrid said. “Get it out, so I can heal.”

  Tarkon wasted no time. He saw a fist-sized lump on Astrid’s back and slashed the cloth above it with his dagger.

  “What the fuck is that thing?” Tarkon exclaimed.

  Vinnie figured it out instantly. “It’s a clamp. It’s pressing her vertebrae together.”

  “Get. It. Out,” Astrid insisted. “I have work to do.”

  Tarkon took a deep breath and reached out his hand. His eyes turned black, then completely red as if his skull was a forge and his eyes mica windows. He held his hand above the metal that turned red, melted and streamed up against gravity to hang under his palm like a raindrop.

  Astrid’s skin smoked and sizzled as the metal melted. But just as quickly as the flesh charred and flaked to ash, new, healthy skin formed beneath it.

  Astrid’s entire body crackled with bright blue energy, and her eyes turned from the deepest black to the brightest aquamarine.

  All the magic she had summoned to keep her alive w
as suddenly free to heal her. She had never felt so much power.

  As she rose to her feet, color returned to her face, and her veins turned from black to blue, or completely faded back into her skin.

  “I have a shit stain to wipe off this place,” Astrid said with a huge smile as she pulled the noose from her neck. “You’re welcome to join me.”

  “Wait,” Vinnie said. “I brought you an extra sword.” He pulled the weapon off his back.

  “I’ve got my weapon right here,” Astrid said. She held out the rope that had once been around her neck.

  Vinnie knew exactly what she wanted. He swung the sword so fast and hard that Astrid barely felt the rope move. She had him cut another section about ten feet up, then wrapped the line around her waist.

  She crouched down, craned her neck to look at the ceiling above, then jumped. She brought her fists up above her head. Her friends below had to scramble out of the way to avoid shattered wood.

  Astrid exploded from the gallows floor, rising up twenty feet in a cloud of splintered wood. She landed in a crouch several feet from a shocked Protector Lungu.

  “Remember me?” Astrid asked, rising to her feet.

  Lungu recovered quickly. “Who could forget?” he shouted, and blasted her with a touchless strike that would have made rock explode.

  The blow doubled her over and sent her sliding down the gallows planks. Her fingernails dug into the wood, making gouges as she slowed herself. She ended up crouched down like a cat.

  When she uncoiled her legs and streaked forward, Lungu hit her with another telekinetic blast. She passed through it like an arrow through a sudden wind.

  Lungu brought out his sword at the last second, but Astrid hit him in the chest with her shoulder. They flew back together, but Lungu managed to get his feet under Astrid’s belly and kick.

  She flew high into the air and over the gallows railing. The crowd scrambled away as she gained control by somersaulting in the air. She landed in a crouch again, but had to jump back when Lungu landed right in front of her with his sword.