The Hunt for the Three Roses

by Jason Hubbard

  Cypher then told the story of a time when a bogle ran rampant in the Royal Castle, pulling tricks on the staff and destroying a three-thousand-year-old suit of ceremonial armor when it used it to play ninepins. It was up to him to exorcise the thing before it could bring down the entire keep, which was more difficult than Cypher thought it’d be. It was a trying time for him, but he told the tale in such a silly and clever manner that it elicited laughter from everyone.

  Kane grew too drowsy to hear the end, so he lied down using his cape as a blanket. Before he drifted to sleep he thought, Master Cypher and Callie sharing stories around a fire … I never thought I’d see the day.

  Seven

  Just before noon the next day (which Cypher announced was the second day of September, a Sunday), they came to a wide river which they would need to cross at a bridge upstream. Kane suggested they try their hand at fishing using a simple spell, but Cypher said he wanted to cross the bridge first. On the other side, Callie’s sharp vision spotted a herd of deer and suggested they go hunting instead.

  “Good eye, young lady,” Cypher said. “You should also be on the lookout for wolves. Kane, if we’re followed by wolves, lob a fireball or two at them and they should stop pursuing.”

  Kane silently cursed himself for leaving his staff behind, which would make fireball creation much easier. “Master, do you have an extra wand handy?”

  “I do not. Just use your hands; they wouldn’t have to be large fireballs.”

  Kane made a face. Right, my hands … as if singeing my face yesterday wasn’t bad enough.

  Unwilling to risk injuring their horses in a run, they trotted along the stony riverbank till they came to a road that climbed along the face of a bluff, where crows eyed them warily from atop birches and oaks. They soon had a bird’s eye view of the river which lazily flowed past trees with a few spots of rushing white water here and there.

  “Can anyone tell me what we should be afraid of?” Cypher suddenly asked.

  Kane peered around but couldn’t come with an answer. The road was high up, but it was fairly wide and dry, making for sure footing. If it was raining, there would be danger of slippage, causing a horse to fall over the edge and tumble down the embankment, but it hadn’t rained in days.

  “Good spot for an ambush,” Callie said. “Bastards could be waiting up top to either jump down or shoot arrows at us.”

  “Of course,” Cypher said. “Wolves aren’t the only predators in the wild.”

  Kane simply nodded, feeling a little embarrassed. As a soldier who had been taking lessons on battle strategy, the answer should have come to him right away. Instead it came to Callie, who probably had more battle experience than him overall.

  As they climbed the ascending road, Kane’s thoughts turned to yesterday’s events. He didn’t believe he had ever come so close to death—not when he had broken his leg, was enslaved by a vile thieves’ clan, and not even when he was sentenced to execution by King Hugo. He had stood in the middle of a blast zone and wouldn’t have budged if it wasn’t for Callie. As indebted as he already was to her, he was now even more so, and he hoped to repay her someday. He also wondered what had become of the siege. Did the Consarians overcome the dam site and bring it down? Did they learn in time that the Mage Corps was decimated and the golems weren’t coming? He had a feeling he wouldn’t know the answers until weeks down the line.

  The sun had been shining all that morning, but in the early afternoon it was hidden by thick clouds, making the rocky landscape dark and gloomy. It was an appropriate mood for the moment when the travelers sighted a convoy ahead where Lonsaran soldiers milled about.

  “Shit, shit!” Callie muttered.

  “You kiss your mother with that mouth?” Cypher asked.

  “I’m twenty-one going on twenty-two, I can say whatever damn thing I please.”

  “Shush, let me have a better look.”

  As they drew near, Kane spotted at least five armed men around two carriages and three carts, as well as four dead bodies lined in a row and several horse carcasses still attached to the vehicles. In the river below were the smashed remains of a fourth cart, its cargo strewn about the muddy water. Two more fallen horses lied nearby, one of them making cries of pain as it brought its head up and down.

  “Those are the banners of Count Guyver,” Cypher said, referring to two green banners on one of the carriages, each depicting the black insignia of a diving hawk. “He’s an acquaintance of mine, so this may not be as bad as it looks.”

  “Do you see this count anywhere?” Callie asked.

  “No, so get ready for a chase.”

  Kane tightened his grip on the reins, confidant that they could escape if things went south. Bandits must have crippled the convoy, leaving it barely able to attack or pursue anything. Bowmen might pose the most serious threat, so the two mages should be ready to deflect any arrows.

  Two guards approached them with their hands on their sheathed swords. “Stop where you are and identify yourselves,” he said threateningly, clearly still shaken by the bandit raid.

  “I am Master Cypher, an ally of Count Guyver and Darin Province. We mean no harm; if your lord is among you, I’d like to speak with him.”

  “Why are you with a Consarian soldier?”

  Kane took a deep breath, wishing he had different clothes on. His cape had been discarded and his military markings removed, but the Lonsaran had still recognized the distinctive design of his leather tunic.

  “We are not spies or scouts,” Cypher said forcefully, “but if you think to stop us, you should think again.”

  Before the soldier could reply, a voice came from the carriage with the green banners: “Cypher, is that you?” A man then got out and headed to the scene. “Men, let them through, let them through!”

  The soldiers hesitantly stepped aside, and a smiling Cypher ordered his companions to dismount. Kane did so, hoping the sorcerer wasn’t being too trusting.

  The travelers slowly led their horses to the approaching man, whom Kane presumed was Count Guyver. The count appeared to be in his mid-thirties, with a short beard and a bald pate over a hedge of dark hair. His slightly chubby frame was garbed with a dark green dress shirt with puffy shoulder pads and a black belt with a decorative gold buckle. He walked with the aid of two crutches, for his right leg was missing below the knee, the knob concealed by a blood-soaked cloth.

  “Master Cypher,” the count said pleasantly. “You look exactly the same. Couldn’t you stand to add one more wrinkle?”

  Cypher spread his hands, trying hard to contain his smile. “I never saw the point of it. You yourself look none the worse for wear.”

  “Bah, I won’t hear any of that! I know how I really look.”

  As the two men closed in on each other, Count Guyver took a moment to steady himself on his one foot and two crutches and extended a hand. Cypher shook it with both of his, making it look as if the count was more than just an “acquaintance.” “It’s good to see you, Erik. How is Henry?”

  The count dropped his smile and shook his head somberly. “Cypher, we need your help. I know I have no right to ask this of you, but raiders have made off with Lady Millerton and killed most of our horses. We might have shaken them off, but they have a mage with them, a crazy old nutter with a staff. Most of my men have gone to rescue the lady, but I don’t have much faith in their success. Please, Cypher, follow their trail and lend your aid. Give those damned raiders what for.”

  After a moment of thought, Cypher said, “Our people are at war, but we don’t have to be. Of course I’ll help you. In return, you must allow us safe passage to Asturia.”

  “Yes, I’ll make sure you have it.”

  “I think I’ll go it alone, take one of the horses. My companions will stay here.” He then turned to said companions and added, “If the raiders come back, you are to defend the count at any cost.
And don’t forget Jonas, he’ll be helpless against them.”

  “Yes, sir,” Kane said, and he gave Callie a worried look.

  “Thank you, Cypher,” Count Guyver said. “The raiders followed us from the top of the bluff and killed the horses with arrows, then actually rode down the bluff as if they had death wishes and took Lady Millerton and some of our food. You see the pockmarks on the ground? Those are from the mage’s fireballs. Be careful around him; he seems to have a few nails loose.”

  Cypher relieved his maple-colored mare of many of its supplies then made off down the road to reach a point where he could get to high ground. Kane and Callie were left to unburden the chestnut mare, all the while feeling the suspicious eyes of the soldiers. Kane was fearful at first, but his fear turned into annoyance when he realized he had done nothing wrong. Jonas, meanwhile, sat by a cart, looking as if he was close to tears as he glanced at the dead bodies.

  “Wish we could keep going,” Callie whispered, “but things could be worse, I guess.”

  “I wish we were, too, but let’s just count our blessings,” Kane replied.

  Count Guyver had retreated to his carriage. After a time, he called out, “You three, a word if I may.”

  Kane encouraged Jonas to rise to his feet, and the three travelers met the count by the carriage’s door. “Greetings, my lord,” Kane said. “My apologies if we didn’t introduce ourselves earlier.”

  “No bother, lad. I am Count Erik Guyver, lord of Darin Province. I and Lady Millerton had been relieved of our duties, so we were going back home, which hasn’t been smooth sailing. We were supposed to go to Fort Lauer for more supplies, but we learned the fort was overtaken, so we had to go this way with what little we had. And who are you, young lady?”

  “I’m Callie, um … my lord. Pleased to meet you.” She made a curtsey, which left Kane surprised by her politeness.

  “Pleased to meet you, Callie. And you, young man?”

  He had already prepared a response for this question. “Sean … Sean McAlister, my lord. I am a mage myself.”

  “You were a soldier of the Consarians?” Count Guyver asked in a lowered voice.

  “Yes, my lord, until Master Cypher called on me to serve him.”

  “Well, Cypher is a good man, so you should be honored.”

  Sean replied with only a small, troubled smile, then glanced at Callie who made nearly no reaction to the sudden name change. He planned to explain to her later that the new name was by no means a temporary alias; he intended on sticking with it as long as he could—possibly for the rest of his life. “Kane” was the name his father gave him, and in the wake of his father’s betrayal, he had little problem in throwing that name away and forging himself a new one.

  “This is Jonas,” Callie said, leading the man by the shoulders to step up. “You’ll have to excuse him, for he is a simple man who can hardly do anything for himself.”

  Sean winced a little at the words “you’ll have to,” for no one told a lord that he “had to” do anything. Fortunately, the count didn’t take offense. “I’ll keep that in mind. So, what business do you have in Asturia?”

  “I and Callie want to make a new life there, away from our overbearing families,” Sean said.

  “Yes, my parents are sooo demanding,” Callie said, shaking her head. “Always telling me who to date, who to marry …”

  “As for Master Cypher … to be honest, we’re not sure what he wants. All I’m sure of is that he wants Jonas to be safe, because a war zone is no place for a man like him.”

  “So you left your countrymen to get to safety,” Count Guyver said. “That’s something you may want to keep to yourselves. No one likes a man or woman of wavering loyalty.”

  Sean’s heart sank and he looked away. The count had seen right through him, which did not make for a good first impression. Still, if the count granted them safe passage through Lonsaran, that was all that mattered. Safe passage, though, was only guaranteed if Cypher returned with the count’s men.

  “We’re only fleeing because we don’t want to hurt any more of your countrymen,” Callie said. “We want to live in peace in the city. I hope you can understand that.”

  “I do. I don’t want this war any more than you do, Callie, and I hope you two can be happy together.”

  “Oh, we’re not, uh … together,” Sean said, rubbing his hands. “N-not like that.”

  The count raised an eyebrow then chuckled at his own assumption. The group made nothing but small talk afterward, ending with the count saying that he wished to rest while waiting for his men to return. Sean then tried his hand at talking with the troops in hopes of being on agreeable terms. One man refused to talk, sounding offended at the notion of a man in Consarian garb trying to relate to him, but most were willing to talk of their homes and lament the recent bandit attack. They still seemed suspicious of him, even after he had talked to their lord, but Sean couldn’t fault them for it. He too found it uncomfortable to talk to people whom he should technically be fighting against, given the times. In his heart, though, he was trying to identify himself as a Lonsaran since he was going to live in Asturia in about a month’s time.

  The hours dragged by with no sign of Cypher or the count’s men, and the sun drew close to the faraway hills to turn the sky pink and the heavy clouds purple. Sean sat on the edge of a cart among a few of the men, thinking about his father. It had been a long time since Father had entered his thoughts, and he wondered where he was now and what he was doing. The last time they had dinner together, Lord Callahan said he was ordered to join a warfront, though he didn’t say where. For all Sean knew, his father was a general in the very army host he was in, and Lord Callahan never knew because his son was just another face in the crowd. Had his father overseen the siege on the dam, or had he gone north to deal with enemies blocking the sea routes? Or was he in another front altogether?

  Not that Sean was dying to know. If he never saw his thoughtless father again, he would be content.

  He tried to stay awake, but his eyes were getting heavy. He was thinking about talking to Callie to help pass the time when he suddenly jumped at the sound of an explosion. Memories of yesterday sprang to mind, but this explosion was much smaller, kicking up only a handful of dirt. He got off the cart and rallied with the other men around Count Guyver’s carriage as a man cackled from atop the bluff.

  “Get your asses up in the air, for the Lord has your names on his lips!” the man cried. Sean tried to make him out in the fading daylight, catching a long white beard, a ratty blue robe, and a ruby-adorned staff before another fireball fell to the road, landing close to a soldier. The chestnut mare, which had tolerated the first fireball, now turned around and fled down the road whence it came.

  Of the five men, only two had bows and arrows at the ready. They shot at the old mage, only to see their arrows deflected by bright flashes of white light. The old mage retaliated with another fireball landing squarely in the middle of a cart, setting its wooden frame and supplies ablaze.

  “Don’t you fuckers know who you’re dealing with?” the mage yelled hysterically. “The Lord God knows you’re evil, so he has sent me as his avatar! Rot in hell!”

  Sean tried to think quickly. The entourage were sitting ducks on this road, being unable to quickly run out of the range of the fireballs. They had no negating crystals to nullify the old mage’s spells, and jumping down to the river was no option (unless breaking one’s bones was no big deal). And since arrows had no effect, that left Sean as the only one who could counter their foe. But how should he do it? He could try hurling fireballs, but he didn’t feel confident about that with no staff to absorb the heat. Shooting spikes of ice would fare better, but he suspected the old mage could easily deflect them, being an experienced magician with strong defenses in place.

  Without a second thought, Sean decided to put up a barrier. He held up his hands, his
palms exposed to the sky, and tapped into his magic reserve. A glowing red wall appeared between him and the old mage, but it was only two meters wide. He pushed harder, extended his resources further, and he made the barrier grow large enough to cover the carriage and everyone around it, shaping it like a quarter of an egg.

  He instantly regretted it as his head felt enormous pressure on it from all sides. His cranium was in a vise again, and this time someone was slowly turning the winch. With no other mages to help him, doing the spell was like pushing a boulder uphill with only one hand.

  The old mage issued another fireball only to see it tap against the barrier and dissipate into nothing. “You!” he yelled while jumping like a puppet in a street show. “How dare you! How dare you! Why are you down there in your shitkickers and defying the Lord God with your blasphemy?” He issued his biggest fireball yet, one as large as a lion’s head which didn’t so much as put a scratch on the barrier. “Why do you do this? I am the arm of the Lord, and you could be his shield! Don’t you know, the Lord gives and the Lord takes away!?”

  Another fireball struck the barrier, this one close enough to the ground to make everyone jump. They were all huddled by the carriage, most of them on their knees as they prayed for the barrier to be strong enough to keep them safe. Jonas was bawling like a baby while Callie held her hands over her head. “Dammit, just who pissed in this guy’s oatmeal!?” she asked no one in particular.

  As the old mage sent more fireballs and yelled more curious statements, Sean did not have an easier time of it. The pressure made him feel as if his head was about to crack open, and the pain brought him down to his knees. He bared his teeth, took deep breaths, and told himself to hold on, but he knew his time was running out. Soon, he’ll have to drop the barrier or else feel something inside him break, and once the barrier was gone he’ll have to try something else. Perhaps issuing a roaring fireball from his bare hands wouldn’t feel so bad; after all, he could light a campfire with his hands alone.