The Dark Mage

by Jace Mitchell

  That man’s name was Eisen, and while he would never fill Riley’s shoes, Mason was coming to understand his competence. He ran his crew efficiently, everyone under him operating like a perfectly tuned machine.

  Eisen had stopped his horse and was staring into the distance, one hand above his brow. The rest of the Guard had brought their horses up around his, all of them performing the exact same gesture as they peered forward.

  “What is it?” Mason’s horse remained behind the line they’d created. He didn’t bother trying to see. His eyes weren’t good enough, and he knew it. He’d met Riley as a kid when he’d tried his hand at pickpocketing. Lucie had caught him on his second or third attempt and told him, You ain’t never gonna be no good at that. You don’t got the physical skills necessary. Stick to being a Prefect.

  She hadn’t been lying. The men in front of him weren’t just trained, they had also been chosen for a combination of physical skills. Their eyes saw farther than his now, and would into the future.

  Riley was the best of them, he thought.

  No, she is the best of them. She’s going to be fine.

  “A tent city.”

  “You’re kidding.” Mason could hardly believe it.

  “I wish I was, sir,” Eisen responded. “It’s large.”

  Mason knew of tent cities. They existed throughout the Badlands. Sometimes warlords owned them, while others were more or less societal rejects. There were mutants in them, too—offspring of the nuclear explosion survivors, but their DNA had been altered. What Mason didn’t know was how dangerous they were.

  He had five men, which wasn’t nearly enough to take down a tent city.

  “How many people, Eisen?”

  “It’s tough to say, sir. I’d venture to say sixty to eighty.” He asked his patrol, “Anyone think differently?”

  “No, sir. That appears to be correct.”

  Mason nodded, thinking this through. The men in front of him were trained to protect with their bodies and kill if necessary. He was trained to lead, and through leading, protect those under him. That was what he had to do here.

  “They’ve seen us?”

  “Sir, I imagine they’ve seen us for days now. These tent city dwellers have eyes throughout the desert—eyes we can’t necessarily see.”

  “If they’ve seen us and let us approach this far,” Mason decided, “it most likely means they’re not going to harm us until after they talk to us.”

  He looked at Eisen’s horse and the pack on its flank. A New Perth flag was folded inside it. He could roll that out and display it as he went forward, but was it necessary? Their horses wore New Perth’s royal purple, and that would be recognized even out here in the Badlands.

  Displaying the flag might only show arrogance.

  “Any other thoughts, Eisen, before I decide what we do?”

  The man didn’t turn around on his horse but kept gazing forward.

  “Not a whole lot, sir. Whatever you decide, my men and I will surround you. I won’t lie to you and say that we can definitely fight our way out. I’ve met tent people before, and they’re a different lot. We’ll be able to give ‘em hell, and if they’re untrained and weak, we’ll be able to get to the other side.”

  Mason looked around the city to the left. They could skirt the side, perhaps lessening the chances of an altercation. It might not, though.

  There were any number of things that could happen. Perhaps the tent people needed supplies. In that case, it wouldn’t matter whether Mason and his team went forward. They’d be killed and robbed all the same. The tent people might have only let them this close so they wouldn’t have to drag the loot very far.

  Or they could be friendly-ish. Going to the side might be looked at as snubbing them. Like the people of New Perth were too good to speak to tent people.

  Every choice had problems.

  Riley’s face came to Mason then. She always went forward, and she didn’t skirt anything. That made up Mason’s mind.

  “Let’s go forward.”

  “Yes, sir. Guard! I want a circle around the Assistant Prefect, and keep it tight! Nose to ass on every horse!”

  Mason watched as the men reacted without question, horses backing up and turning around until he was completely surrounded.

  “Sir, I will set the pace, if that is permissible?”

  “Yes. Let’s go.”

  The group moved forward, a circle of horses with a bullseye in the middle. As they grew closer, Mason saw a group of tent people forming a straight line. They were all men, but behind them the women and children stood and watched. Their skin was a dark, dark tan and it was hard to tell what was dirt. It had to be there, living as they did in nothing but sand.

  Eisen stopped his horse fifty feet in front of the line.

  Mason looked over the tops of the Guards’ heads. The tent people had no horses, and all held weapons of some sort. Swords, axes, and bow and arrows, all looking old and brittle.

  They don’t go to war often, Mason thought. Those weapons won’t hold up.

  More men were coming to the line, and there were at least twenty of them now.

  “Eisen, I want you to move your horse and let me out, then accompany me to them.”

  “Sir, we don’t even know if they speak our language. Tent people have their own dialects.”

  “Eisen,” Mason said, “you heard what I told you?”

  “Yes, sir. My apologies.”

  The man said nothing else, only spurred his horse forward, creating an opening in the circle. Mason trotted forward until his horse was parallel with Eisen’s. “We go on foot.”

  Eisen gritted his teeth. “You know what your father will do to me if I let you get hurt?”

  “Oh, I imagine it’ll be better than what Riley will do to you.” Mason grinned.

  “So you’re going to put me at risk with your father and your Right Hand?”

  “Don’t forget the people in front of us. I’m putting you in danger here too.”

  “True, Assistant Prefect. Days like today, I forget why I accepted this position.”

  Mason’s smile broadened as he looked at the tent people. “Well, how else would you get to bask in my good looks and charm, Eisen?”

  The guard’s grimace broke then. “My apologies, sir. I have forgotten my whole purpose, which is to stare at your glory.”

  “There you go. That’s the spirit. Just keep that in mind if these people decide to chop us up and feed us to vultures. You get to look at me as it happens.”

  Still grinning, both dismounted.

  “Keep your sword sheathed unless it’s necessary to pull it.”

  “Yes, sir,” Eisen responded. Mason knew he sensed death in the air. Mason did too, but not right now. He sensed it in the future, after another four days in this unbearable heat. If bandits or tent people came upon them then? He and his men would be scattered like the grains of sand beneath their feet.

  The two men walked forward and stopped ten feet from the line. Mason could see them well now. There were mutants here, showing physical deformities that had probably come down through multiple generations. Mason thought it likely the mutations stemmed from the World’s Worst Day Ever, or slightly after the actual day. He’d heard of such things being caused by the weapons used, and the deformities were often passed from mother to child.

  They didn’t choose this life. They were run out.

  “My name is Mason Ire, Assistant Prefect of New Perth. These men with me are my Honor Guard, and we all come in peace.”

  “Aye. Assistant Prefect, say ya?”

  The man who spoke was bare-chested and had a deep tan like everyone else. A black tattoo of a rose sprawled across his chest. His head was bald, and he had a large gold hoop earring in his left ear. Mason saw two golden teeth sparkling from his mouth, both on top.

  “Yes. May I ask your name?”

  “I Worth. No last name. Tent people don’t need last name.”

  “It’s an honor to meet
you, Worth. Are you this city’s leader?”

  “Aye. Hold the sword, don’t I? Means I lead.”

  Mason saw the sword now, although he’d missed it before. It was across the man’s back, and although Mason couldn’t see the blade, he knew it was much larger than the other weapons the people held. Mason looked the man over but saw no physical deformities, and thus no reason for him to be out here.

  “Why you here?” Worth’s English was passable but rough, his accent strange to Mason’s ears. It was like nothing he’d ever heard before.

  “We’re heading to Sidnie. We came across your city by mistake, and we humbly apologize. Since we are here, though, I ask on my men’s behalf if we can rest for a short time. No more than an hour.”

  “Rest, aye? Need water, betcha.”

  “We have our own water,” Mason said. “My men only need to get out of the sun, and I’d like any advice you have for making it to Sidnie.”

  “Rest ‘n advice, say ya.”

  The man turned his large head to the sky. “What say?”

  Mason thought he was talking to the others around him, but he couldn’t be sure.

  “Aye.”

  “Aye.”

  “Aye.”

  The single word came up from multiple people, and then silence fell. The man remained staring at the sky for another moment. Finally, he looked at Mason again.

  “Aye, they say. Aye, I say. Come. Your men rest. You, me talk. Aye?”

  Mason nodded. “Yes, that’s fine with me.”

  Mason needed an hour of sleep without the desert heat beating on him, but he had no choice in the matter. If this man wanted to speak, then he would have to speak.

  He looked at Eisen. “I want you and the Guard to get a bit of sleep. I’m going to try to find out the easiest way to get to Sidnie.”

  “Sir, my men can sleep, but I cannot let you remain alone. I must stay with you.”

  Mason almost told him no, but saw immediately it wouldn’t matter. Eisen wasn’t going to sleep, even if it meant Mason removed his title for disobedience when they returned to New Perth.

  “Fine. Tell them to rest. You and I’ll talk with Worth.”

  Mason couldn’t miss the deformities. He made sure not to stare, but to avoid them altogether would have perhaps been ruder. He would have had to look away from everyone he saw. There were tiny third legs attached to knees—things without bones, just flesh. Missing ears. Missing hands. Tongues split down the middle, which Mason thought might make communicating extremely tough.

  The only person who wasn’t obviously a mutant was Worth—a big, strong man, the rest of his tribe smaller and weaker. He walked with his back to Mason, showing no fear. The sword was long, at least as long as William’s.

  Eisen walked at Mason’s side, his own sword sheathed.

  Worth had given instructions to some of his tribe, and the rest of the Guard had been taken away to what appeared to be soft beds. The tent city was large, but Mason could see all the way across it. Everything was open right now, but apparently, drapes could be dropped both around the edges and in different places inside, creating rooms.

  None dropped now, and he was thankful for it. The tent people weren’t trying to hide anything from him, at least not from sight.

  Worth sat down on a huge wooden chair, and Mason had the distinct impression that no one else was allowed to sit on it. Only the man who carried the sword.

  “There, there.” Worth pointed to two bags in front of him. Grain bags, perhaps. Mason wasn’t sure, but he sat down on one all the same. Eisen followed suit.

  He looked at the bald man. His dialect was shabby, but Mason saw intelligence in his face. You had to be intelligent to live out here; there was no doubt about that. The dumb didn’t survive in the Badlands.

  He also saw a sense of humor, as if the bald man thought the whole world was a good-natured joke, despite the circumstances he lived in.

  “Your men rest. You want advice. First, tell Worth why you go Sidnie.”

  Mason nodded.

  “New Perth is going to be attacked by a mage. We don’t practice magic in New Perth, but they do in Sidnie. We need help from them. We need mages, so I’m heading there to ask for their help.”

  “Hmmm.” Worth put his hand to his bare chin and rubbed it roughly, almost angrily, as if he were trying to figure out a tough math problem but couldn’t quite get there.

  He’s judging the truthfulness of my words, Mason thought.

  “Mage who attack. Who he?”

  “I don’t know him,” Mason answered. “He hurt someone close to me, my closest guard, and she said he’s coming to conquer New Perth.”

  “Your Guard is woman?” Worth raised his eyebrows and looked at Eisen, shocked.

  “No, no!” Mason smiled at Worth’s meaning. “Not him. No. He is a...a replacement. My closest guard was a woman.”

  Worth smiled at that, nodding. “I like. I like. Here, in tent city, all women can do all men work. All men can do all women work. ‘Cept feeding baby. Men can’t do that.”

  He laughed, and Mason realized he had made a joke at the end. Mason joined in, hoping to the Father and Mother that Eisen was laughing too.

  “Too much judgment in world,” Worth said when his laughter ended. “I like you let woman be guard. Aye, I like lots.”

  Mason didn’t know what to say, so he kept quiet.

  “Sidnie help, you think?”

  “I don’t know. I hope so.”

  “Magic, aye.” Worth rubbed his hand on his chin again, more softly this time. He was silent for a moment, and then looked at Mason. “What kind magic you want?”

  “I don’t know,” Mason said again, and truthfully. “I’ve never used it. I’ve never been trained in it.”

  “Look at us,” the man responded. “Look close. Now.”

  Mason saw he meant it, wanting the Assistant Prefect to study his people. Mason did. They were small, and if pressed, Mason would say weak. Not quite sickly, but close.

  “How many tent cities you think?”

  “Total?” Mason asked. “Like in all of the Badlands?”

  The bald man nodded.

  “I have no idea.”

  “Lots. Lots and Lots. Warlords. Bandits. Worse, too. Mmmhmm. Worse. How you think we survive? How you think they not take us?”

  Mason looked at the big man. “No one ever comes here? You avoid being taken over because you don’t come in contact with anyone?”

  “Ha!” Worth laughed loudly, his voice spreading across the tent. “He think we no war. He think we hide. Ha!”

  The man didn’t sound angry, and Mason was glad for that. Eisen was deadly, but Mason wasn’t, and he wouldn’t be able to do anything if this man wanted a fight.

  “You wrong, Assistant to the Prefect.”

  Mason didn’t correct the man’s mistaken title, and he thanked the Father and Mother that Eisen didn’t either. His guard wasn’t stupid, and that was worth ten strongmen.

  “We war. We no hide.”

  Mason watched as the man’s eyes lit up red, the black pupils disappearing. The sand next to him started to swirl and Eisen jumped to his feet, his sword already out. Mason stood and backed up, his eyes wide and his mouth open. Worth didn’t move or even look at Eisen’s brandished weapon. He stared at the swirling sand.

  Mason looked too.

  It wasn’t twirling up, but down, creating a pipe into the earth. A few seconds passed, and then Mason heard something else.

  Water, he thought. That’s water bubbling.

  And sure enough, that was what came to the surface. Crystal-clear water flowing across the sand.

  “We magic.” Worth smiled. “Now what kind you need?”

  Mason stood in the sun with Eisen at his side. They were a hundred feet away from the edge of the tent city, with their backs to it.

  “Eisen, I know you may not be used to this, but I talk my decisions out. My father doesn’t. He keeps everything inside, and when he comes to a c
onclusion, he’ll tell you. That’s not how I work. I need you to talk to me about this.”

  “Yes, sir,” the guard said.

  “And I need you to tell me your honest thoughts. Don’t sugarcoat anything, you understand? Iron sharpens iron, and minds sharpen minds.”

  “I understand, sir.”

  Mason nodded, staring out at the desert before him.

  “This is harder than I imagined. It’s harder on me, and it’s harder on you and your men than I thought it would be. We’re halfway there. There’s a long half yet to go.”

  Eisen nodded. “Living in the desert is a skill, and traveling through it is even harder.”

  “Exactly. So my options are, I go forward to Sidnie. I beg them to help us, and then I travel all the way back across the desert and hope I’m in time. Or, I see what this man wants, promise it to him, and then bring them back. You see the problems in both these options?”

  “Yes, sir. In the first option, we might die before we make it back, or we might not make it back before the attack occurs. In the second, well…” Eisen chuckled. “They don’t exactly look like saviors.”

  “That’s right. Maybe they can survive out here with their magic, warding off small-time bandits, but are they going to be able to fight off what’s coming for us? That’s the question.”

  “It’s a tough decision, sir, and I have no answer. It is time versus quality.”

  Mason was quiet for a second, then asked, “Do you know my Right Hand?”

  “Yes, sir. I know Right Hand Trident.”

  “She’s better than me.” Mason’s eyes grew distant as he thought about her. “She’s better than me in almost every way, and I’m trying to decide what she would do right now. Her whole life she’s looked up to me, and she would die for me, without a doubt. Yet I’m trying to figure out what she would do, because she’s smarter and stronger.”

  Eisen said nothing for a few moments.

  “Sir, I don’t pretend to know Right Hand Trident like you do, so forgive me if I’m out of line. However, the woman I know is no coward. She is brave. If she were here, I think she would take this group of ragtags and head back to New Perth, because she wouldn’t miss a war on account of travel. I apologize if that’s too forward.”