Reborn: Age Of Magic - A Kurtherian Gambit Series (The Rise of Magic Book 8)

by CM Raymond

  Gregory sighed. “I don’t think it would be that simple. That rift was small and newly formed. Laughter has been pouring her energy into the Rift near New Romanov for decades. Think of it like a wound… We got to this one fast and were able to heal it fast. The first Rift—that scar won’t go away easily. The Gate worked well, but I only got a fraction of the power out of it that I should have, not to mention…” He trailed off, not sure how to continue.

  “Not to mention,” Hannah said, “that I can barely sit up right now. I don’t think I could close something much larger than that.”

  “Hey, don’t sell yourself short,” Parker said, putting his arm around her. “What you did out there was badass.”

  Everyone around the table nodded. There was a reason that Hannah was their leader. She showed daily the kind of courage and conviction that was worth following.

  “Aye, I hate ta be the buzzkill,” Karl said. “But I think we’re missin’ the big picture here. How did that blasted thing even come ta be? I thought we were fightin’ a battle on one front, but that, what we saw up there, it changes everythin’. If that laughin’ person could attack us here to the middle of nowhere, then she could attack anyone anywhere. I’d bet on this team over any other, but we’re not the Bitch and Bastard. How the hell can we protect the whole damn planet?”

  The room fell silent as everyone contemplated the rearick’s words, but finally Hannah rose to her feet. “I don’t know what that new rift means for us, but I do know that whatever Laughter throws at us we’ll chew up and spit out and whistle while we’re doing it. As long as there’s a Bitch and Bastard Brigade, we’ll be preparing to fight.”

  Team Triple-B cheered and pounded on the table in response. Sal looked up from where he was sleeping in the corner and snarled in protest, then rested his head again.

  Karl smiled. “So what does that mean for us, Cap’n? What’s our next move?”

  Hannah looked down at him. “I don’t know about you, but I think we’ve spent enough time aboard this damn ship. It’s time to head back to New Romanov.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Ezekiel blew through the small community of New Romanov like a cool breeze, stretching his legs and taking in the place he had called home during his childhood. If he hadn’t known about its military history, its recent combat against foul and violent creatures, and the impending invasion hanging over its head, the old man would have assumed it was as peaceful and prosperous a place as any in Irth.

  The damage from the last attack had been repaired, the sun was shining, and the community was going about its daily duties as if it were any other day.

  Ezekiel smiled as Mrs. Shutov walked up to him. She was one of the few citizens of New Romanov who had been around during his youth, and he was glad to see that she hadn’t lost her old fire.

  “So, young man,” she said with a mischievous grin, “I see you’re taking your leisure today. I’m sure a person such as yourself has nothing better to do.”

  He laughed loudly and the sound echoed over the town. “You’ve been accusing me of taking it easy for the better part of a century, Mrs. Shutov. One would think that by now you’d have gotten tired of it.”

  She shook her head. “You were obstinate as a child and you’ve matured into a stubborn old mule, but I remain vigilant in my duties.”

  “And what exactly are those duties?” He cocked his head to the side as he asked.

  “To keep saggy-asses like you from weighing us all down.”

  He laughed again, pleased as always with the woman’s colorful language—something she claimed to have learned from the gods. He gave the old woman a slight bow. “As you command, my lady. I shall reform my error-laden ways, and endeavor to become a dutiful servant such as yourself.”

  She smiled and patted him on the back. “Finally, some progress. Now if only my grandson and his friends were equally amenable. He takes after their shit-stain father.”

  “Well, don’t be too harsh on them,” Ezekiel said. “Roman’s physical magic is coming along nicely, and Yuri is already being used by Olaf and the city guard.”

  “Ha,” she said. “Any usefulness they provide is a result of my harsh childrearing. This city should thank me.”

  “Well, I can’t speak for all of New Romanov, but I thank you. I’m getting old, so my memory may not be clear, but I seem to recall being quite a little prick when I was their age. But you—and this place—raised me to be the man I am today.”

  She nodded. “It is special, that’s for sure. I haven’t seen the world like you have, but I know enough to believe we’ve got it pretty damned great here. Of course, most places don’t have our secret weapon.”

  “You’re right about that,” Ezekiel replied. “Lilith is one of a kind. Speaking of which, I should go see her before the day escapes me. As you said, it’s time to make myself useful.”

  She waved as he headed up the hill toward the entrance to New Romanov’s underground caverns. While strong-willed folks like Mrs. Shutov were New Romanov’s soul, Lilith was its beating heart. Her knowledge and advice had guided Olaf and his father Boris before him and kept New Romanov alive while the rest of the world fell into the Madness.

  And it was the Oracle’s guidance that had led Ezekiel to bring the world back out of it again.

  Hopefully she would show them how to survive the darkness once again.

  ****

  “Zeke, you have quite the spring in your step today,” the mechanical voice said as he walked through her door. “Anything I should know about?”

  “Nothing concerning the fate of the world. I just received a little encouragement from our resident grandmother, Mrs. Shutov.”

  “That woman is everything that’s unique and beautiful about your race,” Lilith said.

  Ezekiel paused, taken aback by her words. The Kurtherian, with her scientific mind, wasn’t prone to outbursts of sentimentality.

  “As usual, you’re not wrong—she’s the best of us. If the rest of the world were more like her, we’d either be at peace or we’d have killed each other years ago.”

  “Peace either way, then,” Lilith responded.

  Another curious phrase, Ezekiel thought to himself.

  “Lilith, how about you? Are you doing OK?”

  The machine fell silent. Her technologically-enhanced brain allowed her to process information at an almost godlike rate, which was a curse only when she was trying to hide something. Pauses like this were her tell—the sign that she was attempting to think of a way to evade Ezekiel’s question without lying, something she had promised she’d never do to him.

  Finally she responded, “I am in good spirits, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  Ezekiel began to pace around her. “That’s only part of what I’m asking, and you know it. What’s going on?”

  Lilith seemed to sigh. “My hardware, it’s failing.”

  Ezekiel managed to choke down his alarm and put a hand gently on her metal exterior. “I thought Gregory had solved your energy problem? It was at least supposed to last longer than this.”

  “No, the engineer’s amphoralds are working as designed. He really is quite bright for a human…no offense.”

  Ezekiel smiled. “None taken. But if you have the energy you need, then what’s the problem?”

  “It is difficult to explain, especially to someone like you.”

  “You mean an idiot in regard to all things technical?” Ezekiel couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Precisely,” she said. “But the components that allow me to operate—that store my consciousness—have a shelf-life. I’m just like you humans in that way—eventually the body decays. Granted, my rate of deterioration is nothing like most humans, but I have been around for quite a while.”

  Ezekiel resumed pacing and stroked his long white beard with his free hand. “But can you not be...repaired?”

  “Perhaps,” she said. “If I had access to the right parts.”

  “Well, where are they?” he
asked. “Wherever they are, I’ll get them.”

  She laughed. “Nothing of that sort exists anywhere near here. My estimates place them light-years away.”

  He stopped pacing. “If you can’t be repaired in your current form, there’s only one solution.”

  “No,” she said resolutely. “That is out of the question.”

  “Lilith, we’ve talked about this—”

  “No,” she said again, cutting him off, “you’ve talked about this, and I’ve been clear in my wishes. Your plan... The risk is too great. I’m not the person I once was. My purpose on this planet is to preserve life and I will not put another life at risk just to save my own. When my hardware fails—and it will fail—we need to be ready. The only thing I care about now is preparing us for that eventuality.”

  Zeke shook his head angrily and opened his mouth to speak, but a tall young man burst through the door.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt, sir,” Roman said while trying to catch his breath, “but it’s Yuri. He’s seen something.”

  Zeke nodded and followed the boy. When he reached Roman, he turned back to address Lilith. “This conversation isn’t over. I will find a way to save you. That is one promise I will not break.”

  ****

  Roman sprinted up the corridor toward the exit with the speed of youth. Ezekiel followed closely on his heels, the power of Etheric energy surging beneath his skin. They squinted at the noonday light as they broke out into New Romanov.

  Spinning to the magician, Roman said, “What do you need from me?”

  The wizard’s heart pounded, but his breathing was steady. “Get Mika first, then assemble the troops and meet me beyond the southern wall.”

  As the kid nodded, his unkempt blond curls bobbed on his head. Without a word he cut toward the western end of the city, and Ezekiel headed for the center of town. He needed information, and that meant talking to Yuri.

  Ezekiel knew just where to find him.

  The young man had become quite important to the defense of New Romanov. Although most of the magical citizens tended toward some form of physical magic, Yuri showed great promise in the mystic arts. While his abilities were limited to one or two areas—the rest would take years of study to master—he was able to perceive the presence of an approaching threat. Either because of his inability to speak or the cause of his muteness, his mental skills made him the perfect city watch.

  Ezekiel jogged swiftly through the streets of New Romanov and drew stares from its citizens, the youngest of whom were just getting used to his presence and command of their city. They had followed Olaf’s leadership for decades, but the large man had placed Ezekiel in charge so he could better assess the entire Archangelsk region. There had been no word from him for days now, but Ezekiel was confident that the werebear could take care of himself.

  Ezekiel paused at the door of a humble building just off the town square. He considered knocking for a moment, but instead he turned the knob and walked in.

  With all the blinds drawn the place was nearly pitch black, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. The seams of light that worked their way into the room from the edges of the curtains were all he needed though, as there wasn’t much to the place. It was small and simple, like the rooms in the belly of Unlawful. Even that was a bit of an understatement, since there was nothing here but an overstuffed chair in the middle of the room. The boy, who was about Aysa’s age, was seated in it with his eyes closed and his lips pursed in concentration.

  Ezekiel silently closed the gap between himself and Yuri and stopped next to the chair. He considered touching him for a moment, but Ezekiel knew that the kid’s concentration was the key to him getting what he needed from him.

  Eyes glowing red, the magician entered Yuri’s mind and observed what he was seeing.

  An army with a dozen heavily armored men on horseback leading a legion on foot strode through the familiar land just south of New Romanov. Their faces were shielded by helmets that only allowed their eyes and mouths to show. Biting his lip so as not to gasp at the sight of the approaching troops, he picked up his staff and left the room as quietly as he had come.

  By the time he had rushed through the bedlam of the streets and made his way outside of the city walls the horde was in sight. Glancing behind him, Ezekiel prayed to the Matriarch that the New Romanov army he had worked so hard to assemble in the absence of Olaf would soon be at the ready. He knew he had to buy them time.

  Gritting his teeth, he drove his staff into the ground and let the enemy draw closer.

  ****

  Ardyn gripped the cracked leather reins and gave them a jerk, pulling his midnight steed to a quick halt. He raised a fist in the air and immediately the sound of two thousand boots marching ceased.

  His greedy eyes took in the reconstructed walls of the city he knew would soon be his. It was unlike any of the other towns or villages nearby, and it would be a perfect place for him to cement his power over the region.

  Then he saw the figure that stood between him and the booty that would soon belong to him.

  He laughed, and the men to his left and right shifted in their saddles. Gesturing at the old robed man in the tall grass, Ardyn growled to his second, “It seems they have sent the elderly out to negotiate. This is surely a pathetic people!”

  The man raised a bow. “You want me to put a shaft through his eye, Ardyn? I’ll give you the choice of left or right.”

  The commander raised his hand. “Nah, not quite yet. Let’s hear him out. I haven’t had a good laugh for a while. Perhaps he wants to beg for the lives of their young and the purity of their women, not that it will do any good.”

  “Aye, sir. You are good to let him say his piece before we paint the town with his blood and hang that greying head from a pike outside the walls.”

  Ardyn laughed. “That’s why I keep you close, Remis. I wouldn’t sleep, knowing a madman like you was on the other side of the fight.” Turning to the old man in the field, he yelled, “Step aside, grandpa. Go back to whence you came and tell the people that if they surrender this moment, my men and I might just show mercy and keep them as our chattel.”

  The old man stood as still as a statue for a moment, and then gave the slightest nod before shouting back, “It is you who will turn aside and return to whatever pile of dung from which you climbed out. Do this, and your wrinkled balls might just stay hanging between your filthy legs for another day.”

  Ardyn burst into laughter again, and Remis and the others followed suit. The commander slapped Remis across the chest. “I almost like this one. It will bring me great joy to pull the entrails from his gut while he’s still breathing.” He shouted to the man, “You speak of balls, grandpa. You must have a set as great as a giant’s on you. Are you not only old, but also blind? My troops number over a thousand. We’ll take what we want, and make no apologies for it. Now, enough of your bravery or your madness, whichever it might be. This is your last chance to yield the city before we take it by force and fertilize the fields with your bony rotting corpse.”

  The old man raised his staff and pointed it at the them, his face as serious as a dirge. “I’ll make you a deal you won’t refuse. Send me your champion, the strongest of your horde. If I best him you’ll turn around, leaving his corpse at my feet and this city in peace.”

  “And if he wins?”

  “New Romanov and its citizens are yours to do with as you please.”

  Ardyn looked at Remis, who only shrugged. He smiled like a madman beneath his dented helmet, displaying his yellow teeth.

  “Bring out that monster of a man who joined us last week. He has a fire in his eyes, and is built like a mountain range.”

  Remis flicked his reins, and his horse turned as if it could read its master’s mind. Remis whistled and pointed at a man twice as wide as most and a head taller than he was. A mighty battle ax, its edges notched with the evidence of past victories, hung in his hand. “You, there. Come!”

&nb
sp; The horsemen shifted and the man-monster stepped between them. Ignoring Remis, he addressed his commander. “It would be my pleasure,” he grunted, lifting his weapon and tapping it on his other palm as if it were a common stick from the forest floor.

  “Do me a favor, son…” Ardyn sneered. “Hit him hard and fast, but then keep him alive. Maybe just a leg and an arm. I want to stare into his crazy eyes as he dies.” He glanced at Remis and grinned. “I love that part, really. Makes my bloody day.”

  The ox of a man nodded, but stayed silent.

  “Go!” Ardyn shouted, and without any further command the man took off at a sprint, moving faster than seemed possible for someone his size.

  The old man spread his legs wide and held the staff out in a defensive position as Ardyn’s newest champion cut the space between them in half and then in half again.

  The commander could see the man’s eyes flash red as he tensed for action, but then he did something Ardyn had not expected.

  He laughed.

  It started as a chuckle, soft at first, but it grew into near-hysteria as the ax-wielding brute approached.

  “He must be mad,” Ardyn whispered as he watched, but then an even crazier thing happened.

  The large man—Ardyn’s champion—stopped running.

  He began to laugh as well.

  ****

  Ezekiel’s body convulsed as the man slowed to a stop. The champion bellowed out his laughter, loud and crisp. He raised his battle ax and said, “This was good. I needed a good laugh, although I ought to knock you on your ass anyway just for the sport of it.”

  “I’d like to see you try! You’re barely a man,” Ezekiel exclaimed.

  “You son of a bitch!” the man said, his voice deep and husky. “Was that a bear joke?”

  In one swift move the champion dropped his ax and flipped the helmet off his head, exposing a grin.

  “Welcome home, Olaf,” Ezekiel said, pulling his friend into an embrace. “I’ve never been so glad to see you.”