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

by CM Raymond

  “Son of a shit-eating bitch-whore,” she screamed. She dropped to one knee and sheathed the dagger. As she swept her hands in front of her Hannah’s eyes blazed red, and she pushed a perfectly-focused blaze of bright blue energy from her palms. It landed squarely on the lycanthrope’s chest, and with a whimper it flew back into the dense forest on the other side of the path.

  She spun to find that Olaf, clothes scattered behind him, had transformed into his bear form. Crouched, he was growling at two more of the damned beasts.

  “Good luck,” she said to the creatures as she turned to meet another pair coming out of the woods.

  They stopped to size her up, fixing their dark soulless eyes on her.

  “Last chance to turn tail and run, furballs,” she said.

  Looking at each other and then back at her, the lycanthropes let out a blood-curdling howl in tandem before charging her.

  “Bad choice.” She sighed and threw a fireball, catching one with a direct hit to the face.

  It screamed and dropped, slapping itself silly as it tried to put out the fire spreading across its fur-covered body. The other stopped a yard shy of her. Stepping to its right, it tried to get a better position on its prey.

  “You wanna dance, huh?”

  It snarled in response, saliva dripping from its teeth.

  The lycanthrope sprang at her and Hannah drew the dagger again as it sailed through the air. They hit the ground together, the beast on top of her. She gripped it with one hand as she rolled, driving the dagger up and then farther into its belly. Its body twitched once before going still.

  Hannah sat up, holding her side. Olaf, still in bear form, loomed over the dead bodies of the other two lycanthropes. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she saw some sadness in the bear’s eyes, as if Olaf knew something of the creatures’ plight—caught between human and beast.

  She reached down to her side, and her eyes turned red, sending healing power into her own body. The pulsing pain of the animal’s attack subsided and then disappeared.

  After cleaning her dagger on the fur of her fallen enemy, she put it away and stood.

  The reddish-brown bear stretched its open jaws toward the sky and let out one last roar of victory before its body started to contort and twist.

  Hannah watched with wide eyes. Olaf’s bear form lost mass and changed shape all at once. She never saw his hair fall out or even retract into his human body, but one second Olaf was a mountain of fur and animal muscle and the next a man with thick body hair.

  Naked in the shade of the trees with his chiseled muscles and long hair and thick beard, Olaf looked like the image of a god come to Irth. Hannah's eyes wandered down his body and opened even wider when she took in his privates.

  She whistled. "Well then, I guess Mika isn't just in this for your charming personality, now is she?"

  Olaf gave Hannah a simple smile; there was no hint of embarrassment on his face. Two-hundred years of appearing naked in front of total strangers had a way of making one comfortable with nudity, and Olaf had had more opportunities than he could count.

  He walked over and grabbed the clothes that he had quickly scattered before transforming.

  “Tell me… Your friends, are they as strong as you?”

  “Are you kidding me? The two of them working together couldn’t fend off a rabbit.”

  He nodded. “I was worried about that. This is not exactly a safe area.”

  Hannah turned to look for the path again. “Then we’d better quit standing around with our dicks hanging out. Lead the way, big guy.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The sun beat down on Karl and heated his leathers, which sent a near-continuous stream of sweat down his back. Summer was still a few months away, at least according to how they tracked the seasons in the mountains south of the Arcadian Valley, but out in the middle of nowhere in Archangelsk the sun burned like it was the hottest day of the year. Although he had made peace with the road as his home, he missed his little mountain hut and life in the Heights.

  He shaded his brow with a hand to inspect the tree line. They had been on the road since daybreak, and he knew that if all went according to plan they would make Urai for dinner.

  Although he didn’t care for the role of babysitter, he had taken it without grumbling too much since he saw the wisdom in her decision. It was much easier to wage war without the risk of collateral damage.

  He glanced over his shoulder at the mass of humanity following them. There were hundreds of them: young children, the sick and injured, and the elderly, all following his path, step by hot and tired step. Most of the people on the move were from Tark, and they were learning all too quickly the life of the wandering refugee.

  Although the people of Urai were still recovering from the destruction that had been waged on the city by their Skrim attack, Mika knew that they would do all they could to help. Kindness was a hallmark of the people of Urai, as was loyalty. Although they all knew that Karl, Hannah, and the others had saved the city because it was the right thing to do, the Uraians nevertheless believed that they owed them a debt.

  That debt was about to be repaid.

  After scanning the horizon once more Karl fell into a steady rhythm, taking care to keep the pace slow enough that the weakest of the lot could keep up.

  No more than ten yards ahead of them, Sal loped along with a half-dozen kids on his back, hanging on to his neck and wings and the thick rounded plates that jutted up and ran down toward his tail. A dozen more ran behind him, laughing and screaming down the old dirt road that connected the sister cities.

  “Looks like Sal has found his calling,” Mika said, breaking the silence that had hung between them all morning.

  Karl laughed and rubbed his hand across his beard. “Aye, damn dragon is good wi’ kids. He ain’t bad at rippin’ out the throats o’ the assholes we run inta either. Pretty effective combination, if ye ask me.”

  “Glad I’m on his side of this then,” Mika said. “I heard we almost lost you on that last mission.”

  Karl waved his hand at her. “Bah! Ye can’t go listenin’ ta everything them bastards say, especially that Aysa. Sure, them two crazy old bats down in that mountain had me by the short and curlies—well, mentally speakin’ anyway—but I’ve seen worse. Much worse.”

  Mika laughed, and Karl gave her a confused look.

  “That’s sweet.” She patted him on the back and then squeezed his broad shoulders, which put a blush on Karl’s cheeks. “But I wasn’t talking about that kind of losing you. Aysa told me all about your little mountain princess and how you almost got married in Heema.”

  Karl cursed Aysa and grumbled under his breath as he kicked stones down the road.

  “When are ye women gonna stop chafin’ my balls about ‘er?”

  “Karl,” Mika chided, “have you thought that maybe it’s the lack of love causing the chafing? There’s nothing wrong with a little love. Olaf was a real high-strung sonofabitch until I came along and provided some ways for him to decompress.”

  “Ways?”

  Mika laughed, her hand covering her mouth. “Well, there’re those ways as well, but I wasn’t just referring to the ways a woman has with a man. I mean, just being together… Laughing, knowing someone is there for you no matter what—it changes a man, and apparently a Were as well.”

  Karl kept his eyes on the path for a few strides, largely because he had no idea how to respond. He knew as much about women as Gregory did about warfare, which wasn’t saying much. And all this fanfare about him and Clarissa…the others were never going to let it go.

  “Not much room fer love when yer flyin’ around tryin’ ta save the damned world. She was a fine lass and a sight too, but she deserves ta have a man who can stay by ‘er side.”

  Mika shrugged. “Maybe that’s a decision you should have let her make for herself.”

  “Aye, but she has ‘er people, and by the looks o’ things they’d be needing ‘er more than I would,” Karl s
aid. “And besides, I think I might’ve been a bit too old fer ‘er anyway.”

  Mika laughed again.

  “What?” Karl grumbled.

  “You do know that you’re talking to a woman who is with a man who is more than a hundred and sixty years older than her, right?”

  “Scheisse, I guess yer right on that one,” Karl laughed. “Maybe yer right, lass, and I was wrong ta leave ‘er there. Hell, maybe me right move would’ve been ta stay there in Heema ’n raise a couple o’ mountain kids. The gods know I’d’ve been set up just right. But knowing what I know, I had no other choice.”

  Mika nodded as she marched along. “Just don’t ignore the feelings in here,” she said, putting a hand over her chest. “I know you are a tough and rugged badass from the Heights, but you can still be tough and rugged while also being loving and attached.”

  “Aye, sure.” Karl replied. He scanned the tree line again, hoping to see an angry horde of remnant or a pack of lycanthropes rush out of the woods. Hell, he’d even take a fight with a half-dozen Skrima to get out of this awkward conversation. “Maybe after we take care of these rifts and shit-demons I’ll go check on ‘er.”

  Before she could answer, Mika was cut short by the voice of an old Tarkan man who walked with a limp and carried a staff that looked like it had seen the days before the Madness.

  “Don’t mean to interrupt,” he began.

  Karl shrugged. “Life is a series of interruptions, sir. What can we do fer ye?”

  The old man pushed between them, and Mika and Karl spread out to accommodate him. “It’s that beast of yours. Some of the others aren’t quite comfortable with it.”

  Laughing, Karl said, “Don’t let Sal hear ye callin’ him an it or sayin’ he’s mine. If he does, ye might just have somethin’ ta be worried about.”

  The old man let out a sigh that Karl thought would never end and then continued, “Well, I don’t mean anything by it, but some of the mothers are a bit afraid that thing is going to have one of the littles for an early lunch. I mean, we’ve seen one of those things destroy most of our city in a few hours’ time.”

  “A dragon?” Mika asked.

  The old man shook his balding head. “No idea what the hell you call them, but the one we had was enormous and red. Looked like an oversized dog with horns.”

  Karl laughed. “Ye think Sal’s one o’ them Skrima?” He slammed his open palm against his hip.

  “It isn’t?” The man turned his eyes farther up the road and watched Sal, who was currently spinning and pitching side to side, making for an adventurous ride for the children. “Then what is it? I can’t say I believe in dragons.”

  Mika shrugged. “I don’t really know anything about dragons, but Sal here—you’ve got nothing to fear from him. He is the creation of the magician named Hannah, and he is as loyal and gentle as a common housecat.”

  “With better manners,” Karl added. “I mean, don’t cross ‘im or he’ll kick yer arse three ways to Sunday, but I can’t think of any creature I’d prefer by me side in battle than Sal there.” He nodded at the dragon, who had laid down on the road to transform himself into a scaly hill for the kids to slide down. “Hardly looks dangerous to me.”

  The man agreed and then introduced himself as ‘Bartholomew,’ but told them they could call him ‘Bart.’ He had a long face with deep wrinkles around the eyes and tracing his forehead. He was tall and slender though he didn’t look frail, especially for how old Karl assumed him to be.

  “So ‘twas a Skrim that drove ye from yer homes?” Karl asked. Since the Tarkans had moved into the encampment surrounding New Romanov there had been more than one story about how they had ended up leaving the city as such a big group, and what role Ardyn had played in the exodus.

  “Indirectly, I guess you could say. That thing swept through Tark like a hurricane, killing and destroying. We did all we could to stop it, but most of our men aren’t fighters and we don’t have any magicians to speak of. After it killed the bravest of us, it just caused a bit more havoc and then left. Damndest thing!”

  Mika listened intently and then said, “That’s like what happened in Urai, the city we’re going to now. No one could tell why the Skrim left. It just moved on. It was only later that we realized it was all part of Laughter’s plan to split us up so she could attack New Romanov.”

  “Laughter?” the man asked.

  Mika smiled. “Right, I guess there is a lot you don’t know.” She looked at the familiar road between her two homes and, realizing that they had plenty of time before reaching Urai, dove into the story of Laughter and the Skrima and even a bit about the history of the Kurtherians. She slowed as she got to the part of the story that should include Lilith, her history, and her waning power, but there she pulled back, withholding details since they still didn’t know this man or the Tarkans’ details well.

  Bart laughed. “That explains things a lot better than anything we could come up with.”

  “Why didn’t ye stay an’ rebuild?” Karl asked.

  “Ah! That was where Ardyn came into the picture.”

  “That’s the asshat Ezekiel took care of?”

  He nodded. “One and the same. Ardyn held a peculiar place in our city. He had built a reputation through his exploits outside the town, or at least through the stories he told. I never believed half the shit he spewed, but when the Skrim destroyed Tark he really got the people riled up. Told us that to rebuild would take a lifetime.”

  “Which was why he marched on New Romanov,” Mika said.

  The old man sighed. “Yes, you are right about that. I’m ashamed to say that Ardyn served us a heaping plate of lies, and our people were so hungry for a place to call home—a place that was safe that it wasn’t hard for him to convince us that New Romanov was not only a city of malice and unjust rulers, but that it was also on the brink of chaos and disarray. He insisted it would be an easy win, and better for Irth herself for us to take the city. And then—”

  “A badass wizard rode out to meet ye,” Karl interrupted.

  “That he did, and it was a damn good thing too,” Bart added. “We had you in numbers, but it has become obvious that you best us in terms of power—and generosity.”

  Mika reached over her shoulder and grabbed her canteen out of the top of her pack. She uncorked it and took a sip. “Still would have been a bloodbath if Olaf hadn’t infiltrated your ranks. Not good for either of us.”

  “That’s true,” Bart agreed, “but it seems me and the other invalids are fated to spend our lives fleeing from bloodbath to bloodbath.”

  Karl shook his head. “It’s only precautionary at this point, but if them aliens come through the damned Rift, it’s better ta have yer kids up in Urai.”

  “And us old men,” Bart laughed.

  Karl snorted. “Aye, I guess so.”

  Bart shook his head. “A damned shame, getting old. In my day I was filled with piss and vinegar, fought on the front lines to hold back the mad ones.” He wiped his brow with a handkerchief that he pulled from his pocket. “Now I’m lucky just to hold my piss through the night.”

  “Scheisse, I ain’t far behind ye, friend.”

  “Is that why you’re babysitting us as we walk away from danger?” Bart asked.

  Mika laughed heartily. “It’s clear you don’t know the rearick, old man. Karl is on this mission because if we get rushed by a hundred remnant from those woods,” she pointed off to her right, “his hammer will level half of them before you have a chance to piss your robes. And once you’re inside the perimeter of Urai, you can bet your wrinkled ass he’ll be double-timing it back to face the danger.”

  Bart smiled and elbowed Karl. “She’s a firecracker.”

  “Aye, and she’d gut the other fifty before I was done wi’ mine. Yer better off not screwin’ with Ms. Mika here.”

  They all laughed and fell into a silent march, keeping their eyes on Sal as he tromped along with the kids. From where they walked, they could see that one of the
m had fallen asleep on the dragon’s back.

  “So what was it like, old-timer?” Karl asked. “Fightin’ them Mad, I mean?”

  “You never fought them, rearick?”

  Karl shook his head. “Was barely born when the Age of Madness was comin’ to an end. I cut me teeth on killin’ remnant after the Madness, and that was hellish enough.”

  Old Bart nodded. “Hellish perhaps, but when the Madness broke it was truly hell on Irth. We were always ready to fight, just never knew who it was going to be. I mean, we’d get some of those bastards wandering in out of the woods or down from a neighboring village, but the worst part was when they came from within.”

  Mika shook her head. “Olaf has told me of those days. Sounded terrifying.”

  “’Terrifying’ doesn’t get at the extent of it. I had a friend turn during guard duty. Barely killed the poor soul before he got me first. Most husbands and wives stopped sleeping together for fear that one of them would turn Mad and be at the other’s throat before day broke. It was essentially every man for himself in those days. I never thought we’d see the other side of it, but here we are. The human race goes on. It’s why I know those bastards from the skies won’t win this fight.”

  Karl laughed. “I hope yer right about that one.”

  The men laughed together, but Mika’s face remained straight. Her eyes darted from Sal and the children to the tree line and back again. The dragon had knocked the kids off his back and now circled around them, getting his small herd into a tight pack before positioning himself between the kids and the woods.

  He turned his head toward Mika and Karl and silently batted his wings twice, signaling.

  Mika’s eyes turned back to the woods, and she saw motion in the shadows of the trees. She grabbed Karl by the loose folds of his shirt and pulled him to a stop, nodding in the direction of the movement she had spied.

  He drew his hammer and gritted his teeth. “Seems ye might get to see us in action after all, old-timer.”