The Hunt for the Three Roses

by Jason Hubbard

  “But it’s true! He’s going to die, and I’m sorry.”

  “Who?” she snapped, her temper rising again. “Who’s going to die?”

  “Your … your friend. He’s a … I think he’s a mage?”

  She inhaled sharply and glared at him. “That’s not funny, Jonas, that’s really not funny.”

  Jonas merely looked down and didn’t respond.

  “Okay, so you must be talking about Kane. If he’s going to die, how will it happen?”

  Jonas scrunched up his face like a child thinking deeply. “All I see are … metal men? Yeah, I think they’re metal men.”

  “Metal men? You mean like armored knights?”

  He shrugged. “They’re metal men. But Callie, you can save him. If you go right now, you can save him before he dies.”

  She frowned again and took a sip of her juice with a tightened hold on the cup. “Jonas, this is getting ridiculous,” she said evenly, trying to keep herself from exploding. “Someone is making you say this, so who is it? Are they blackmailing you?”

  “No … what’s ‘blackmail?’”

  “It’s mail that’s black. But forget that and tell me who it is.”

  “Who’s what?”

  Callie sneered and leaned forward with wide eyes. “Who is making you say this?”

  Jonas fell silent a moment then sadly shook his head. “I’m sorry, but he’s going to die if you sit here and do nothing. You can save him.”

  “Oh, really? Where is he then?”

  “He’s in a place with a lot of flowers.”

  “Well, that could be any old place.”

  “You can save him. You can, but you have to go very soon.” And with that, he stood up and went away.

  Callie stuck out her tongue at him and went back to her mending, cursing whoever put him up to saying that. She could be difficult to get along with, but she didn’t have a great deal of enemies in the maids’ camp. There were, however, Sally, Monica and May—whom she dubbed “The Terrible Trio.” They were nasty bitches who could certainly be cruel and devious enough to try to trick her into leaving the camp and getting charged with desertion. They always got a kick at seeing others in pain and misery, and of the three of them, Sally especially held a grudge against her.

  But as Callie had noted, Jonas was extremely honest, being too simpleminded to see the benefits of lying. Even when he made a terrible mistake, he wasn’t clever enough to make up a story to cover himself; he simply took the blame, and people usually took pity on him for being addled. The moment Callie asked him who made him lie, he should have given her a name. Hell, he should have relented on the second or third time she asked.

  But he didn’t, and that bothered her.

  She tried not to think about it and focused on her work. Maybe she had figured him out wrong; maybe he’d been spending time with the Terrible Trio and discovered the joy of cruelty. He’d been known to be highly impressionable, even going so far as to put on a dress just because the Trio told him to. All in all, he was simply a fool who couldn’t tell right from wrong, and he was trying to get revenge on her for not returning the crush he clearly had for her.

  Stupid lovestruck idiot, that’s all he is.

  She was able to drive Jonas from her thoughts for a minute, but then she remembered the rose tattoo on his upper arm. Last May, after learning that King Hugo was looking for the “Three Roses,” Kane, Callie, and her old partner, Dan, had tried to figure out what the Roses were. They could be powerful magic weapons to be used in the war, codenames for government spies, or exotic treasures the King wanted in his comfy den just to have a conversation starter. These were things a king would desire, not an addled man who needed help just tying his bootlaces.

  But Kane was convinced by the tattoo that Jonas was one of the Roses, although he had no other evidence for it. Callie supposed Jonas could be the King’s distant relative, but she mostly chalked up the tattoo as a mere coincidence.

  But what if she was wrong? What if there was something more to Jonas than what he appeared as? What if he had a special talent that no one else could do? What if he could—and she couldn’t believe she was even thinking this—see the future?

  No, that was impossible. There were many people who claimed to be psychics, and they were all charlatans who preyed on the grieving for profit. Jonas, in his own strange way, was no different,

  But if it was true that he could foresee future events … that would make him highly desired by a king.

  No, I still call bullshit on him. He can’t be anything special.

  But her mind (or was it her conscience?) would not let the matter drop. Jonas said Kane would die if she didn’t do anything about it. If she ignored the warning only to find out later that he’d been killed, she would regret it. Hell, it would be one more big regret that this year kept piling on her. Her attempt on the King’s life, her ransom job with Kane, the special favors she pulled from Dan, her search for the Three Roses—if she could somehow undo any one of those things, she would.

  And now she had a golden opportunity to actually prevent another regrettable situation—but only if she believed it was one. She merely had to put blind faith in Jonas, take him at his word.

  But if she left the camp, she’d be charged with desertion. It had happened once before, and it had earned her a whipping. She hardly looked forward to another one, and she could also end up in one of the camp’s rusty gibbets.

  But if she could save Kane’s life, it would be worth it. What was a little pain compared to the heart-wrenching news that Kane had gotten butchered on the battlefield? Hell, she felt responsible for him, for he wouldn’t be out there if it wasn’t for her.

  But risking her life and freedom meant putting stock in the absurd notion that Jonas, as one of the Three Roses, was a soothsayer who could only give vague details …

  “Shit!” she suddenly muttered. “Shit, shit … shit!” She threw down her needle and stood up, and she looked at the cuirass in her hands as if seeing it for the first time. She decided to use it for a more practical purpose … but first, she had to get out of this damned kirtle. There was no use in running across a potential warzone in a skirt.

  She ran to one of the carts filled with laundry. There were three girls nearby who were waiting for a pair of horses to start pulling the cart. Callie jumped in the back and said there was an emergency: A young man needed something fresh to wear before he could go out to battle. His captain insisted on it. One of the girls asked what the man’s name was, to which Callie gave the bogus handle of “Chris Fufflesniffer.” Other than that, the bored-looking girls had no questions about this supposed dire emergency.

  Callie picked out a brown linen tunic and a pair of trousers that looked to be her size and ducked into an empty tent. She untied her cloth belt and yanked loose the laces of her bodice, then slipped off her kirtle and nearly ripped off her voluminous knickers. She put the tunic on first, not bothering with the buttons, then tried on the trousers which were a little big for her but would have to do. After putting her old boots back on, she carefully put on the leather cuirass. She was no stranger to a cuirass, having worn one for years in St. Mannington, but this one was not designed for a woman. It was cramped and uncomfortable, but she was willing to deal with it as long as it made her feel protected.

  Upon leaving the tent, she suddenly realized she had no idea where to go. Ideally, she should find Jonas and demand he tell her what to do, even if she had to shake the living snot out of him. But she had a funny feeling that time was running out, especially thanks to her insistence on changing clothes. She did a quick look around and didn’t spot Jonas anywhere, so she gave up on him and rushed in the direction the army had gone. As she crossed the imaginary boundary of the maids’ camp, her fellows yelled at her to come back and said she was crazy.

  Oh, I’m crazy, all right. I’m following the advice
of a man who can’t even count to twenty without taking off his boots. I could get killed out there, but I just can’t risk the chance of Kane …

  No, it was best not to think about it. She only had to follow the tracks of the soldiers and assume they led to the man she was looking for. Thinking wasn’t always her strong suit, anyway.

  Kane stood tall with both hands on his staff, its amber stone glowing with a soft yellow light. In front of him was the edge of a magic barrier that shimmered with a lovely red glow, just a small part of a massive dome that shielded the Mage Corps in the center of the meadow. He had the help of eleven other people to form this barrier, but he still felt an uncomfortable amount of strain as if his cranium was in a vise. He shook his head a few times to shake off the feeling, but it persisted like a swollen mosquito bite. He thought about dropping his magic just to have a moment of relief, but he’d probably get in trouble for it.

  Besides, his task wasn’t nearly as arduous as that of the Golemmakers’. Each mage had to take a sip of a green potion which filled his magic reserve to the brim, and then he had to pour his magic into one of the suits. Most of the Golemmakers merely had to supply magic energy, but a few had to project their thoughts and input commands into the suits, occasionally being at odds with one another. As one of the commanders put it, the spell was like “pouring water down an aqueduct while constantly changing the direction of hundreds of valves.”

  It didn’t sound like fun, and Kane assumed the Golemmakers had their own vise-grip sensations. He glanced at them occasionally, taking in their grimacing faces as red streams of magic flowed from their staves into the golems’ helmets. He wondered how they could do it, keeping up such teamwork while enduring great discomfort.

  Many people thought a mage’s life had to be wonderful since they had great power at their fingertips. While the ability to do spells was nice, the truth was that a mage’s life was semi-charmed, filled with constant danger. The potions he consumed were toxic, and he had to keep drinking them to build up immunity; the spells he performed held the risk of overloading and blowing up in his face; and he could find himself creating instruments of war with a spell that strained his body like a heavy weight.

  Kane recalled how he wanted to do magic at a young age so he could help the ill and injured. It was terribly funny that he hadn’t done much of that, yet he proved rather competent at killing people. He hoped that after the war, he could turn that around; otherwise, he’ll never touch another potion ever again.

  Callie noticed that the blacksmiths’ working area was vacant, so she stopped by the armory and picked up a leather helm with a steel plate above the visor. Her ponytail made it uncomfortable to wear, but she could deal with it. She also thought about taking a sword, but the additional burden would only slow her down.

  With the helm securely strapped on, she raced for the river and headed north along its muddy bank. It felt good to run again in spite of the situation, though she felt herself tiring quickly. The army host hadn’t moved in several days, and she spent much of that time doing laundry and making medicine from ingredients scouts brought in. Her body had gotten lazy, and it wasn’t long before her muscles and lungs began to ache.

  And Kane might be near the dam, which was said to be about three kilometers away. Oh, joy.

  Twenty-two minutes after she left the maids’ camp, she entered a forested area where she slowed to a walk. She took off the helm, thinking it might have been a bad idea since it accumulated heat and sweat. She hadn’t wanted to be recognized as a woman by any stray soldiers, but it only served to cloud her vision with moisture.

  Upon wiping her brow, she was startled by the sound of something splashing, which turned out to be fish jumping from the river to fight the current. There were also turtles lounging in a spot of sunlight on a rocky stretch of the bank, snapping at flies as they buzzed about. Callie hadn’t witnessed such a charming scene in years, and she wished she could stop and stay awhile.

  Thoughts of Kane made her step up to a jogging pace, and in two minutes she came across a bridge. It appeared mighty enough to withstand the river when swollen with rainwater, but it was clearly old, many of its stones cracked and spotted with moss and mildew. She stopped at one of its end posts to gather her thoughts. On the way here, she had thought of what to say to convince Kane to come with her. Her words had seemed good for a time, but now in the stillness of the forest, she had doubts. Telling him that a commander was looking for him and only him sounded outlandish and would only raise questions. She had to think of another story, because the only other method was to mention Jonas’ name, which she didn’t want to do. Attempting to rescue Kane was her decision, not Jonas’, and she didn’t want to implicate him by bringing his name to the ears of bystanders. Even so, reminding Kane that Jonas was one of the Three Roses might be enough to—

  Her thoughts halted when something moved in the corner of her eye. She turned her head to catch a ball of white light tinged with blue before it suddenly darted to the underside of the bridge. She took a few steps to the right and hunkered down, but the ball of light was gone. Reflecting back on it, she could have sworn she saw a pair of insectile wings.

  A fairy. Something she really didn’t need now. It was rare for a fairy to venture out from the Badlands but not unheard of. It was probably a scout monitoring the humans who were fighting close to the fairies’ territory, and now that it was seen, it might feel threatened.

  “Hey, I know you’re there,” Callie said. “I won’t tell anyone I saw you; I’m just looking for someone. If you leave me be, I’ll do the same for you. Deal?”

  She was answered with silence, which suited her just fine. Even if the fairy couldn’t understand human speech, it should have read the sincerity in her voice. But as she crossed the bridge, her mood shifted. After the midway point, she heard a steady humming sound from beyond the trees. A group of insects first came to mind, but she then considered another, more horrifying possibility: An army of fairies, numbering in the hundreds, awaiting orders to move on the humans and wipe them out. If the scout reported back to them, it might be all they needed to start operations.

  She should tell someone about this, get word to the generals that the Lonsarans were the least of their worries. But she couldn’t bring herself to do that without visual confirmation. Seeing one fairy was alarming, but it wasn’t enough to upset the army’s activities.

  Going as quickly as she dared without making too much noise, she pressed on through the woods, gradually seeing more daylight. Upon reaching the forest’s edge, she was stricken by the sight of thousands of flowers covering a gentle slope—the meadow Jonas had mentioned. And up ahead was a dome that pulsed with red light, the source of the hum.

  She sighed in relief as the fairy (if that was what she had seen) hadn’t indicated a larger threat, and although she couldn’t make out what was in the dome from this distance, she was sure it was the doing of the Mage Corps. Kane couldn’t be far now.

  After giving a silent thanks to Jonas for doing whatever mysterious ability he had, she stretched her limbs and took off through the sea of flowers.

  Kane didn’t see anyone approach until someone shouted and pointed. It appeared to be a soldier, but through the haze of the barrier, he couldn’t tell if it was a friend or foe. Most likely it was a messenger sent by the generals to tell them to hurry up, whom the Mage Corps commanders would promptly ignore. Golem-making was long, sensitive work; haste would only complicate things and possibly spell failure. If the generals wanted the golems so soon, they shouldn’t have had the siege and the golem ritual happen at the same time just because they were wary of enemy spies.

  As the soldier grew near, Kane noted how slight of figure he looked as if he hadn’t been eating enough, and he wondered if starvation was a bigger problem in the army than he’d thought. The newcomer came right up to the barrier and was met by Master Maclean who demanded his identity. But the soldier ig
nored him and went around the barrier as if searching for someone—and his heart leapt in his throat when he recognized the “soldier” as Callie in a uniform.

  “Kane!” she cried, and she stepped close to him and pounded a fist on the barrier. “Kane, I need to talk to you!”

  He moved closer to her while maintaining his concentration on the spell, tightly gripping his staff with both hands. He could barely make out her concerned face as he squinted from the glow of the transparent barrier. “Callie, what is it? What do you want?”

  “Kane, you have to get out of there! I don’t know what you’re doing in there, but—”

  “Young lady, what in the hell are you doing?” Master Maclean bellowed as he stepped beside Kane. “What’s this about?”

  Callie pounded on the barrier again. “This has nothing to do with you, I just want to talk to him! But if you’re smart, you’ll stop what you’re doing right now!”

  Maclean stared at her with simmering anger, then turned to Kane. “Do you know her?”

  “Yes, sir,” Kane said, turning red in the ears. He had probably never in his life been as embarrassed as he was now, especially when two other commanders joined the scene. “She’s just a friend; I have no idea why she’s here.”

  “Well, tell her to leave since she won’t listen to me!”

  Kane turned to her with a tight-lipped frown and a raised eyebrow.

  “No, don’t listen to him, you have to get out of there!” Callie insisted.

  Raising his voice to be heard through the barrier, he cried, “No, go back to the camp! I have a duty here, and you can’t expect me to walk away from it!”

  “It’s Jonas, Kane … Jonas told me you were going to die here if I didn’t do something!”