“I’ll make you fear the Lord like no one else!” the old mage yelled. “You shall see the awesome power of—”
An inexplicable rumbling occurred, followed by flickers of light that made one’s hair stand on end. Then, without further warning, a mighty lightning bolt dropped from the clouds and struck the old mage, kicking up mounds of soil and deafening everyone below. Sean was so startled he involuntarily dropped the barrier. He waited a moment, hoping he hadn’t made a mistake, but as he saw smoke rise from the spot where the old mage had been, he suspected he knew what had happened.
A few men cheered, but most remained silent in the tense atmosphere. Sean held his head and groaned from the pulsing pain, feeling as though something was trying to break out of his skull. Callie knelt next to him and asked if he was okay, but Sean brushed her off and headed for the nearest cart. He knew it was wrong of him to do that to her, but he was in no mood for comfort.
As Sean perched himself on the cart, Master Cypher approached the fallen old mage atop the bluff and felt for a pulse on his neck. “Dead,” he announced. “Or if he isn’t, he’ll wish he were.”
“Cypher, what news?” Count Guyver cried out as he hobbled from his carriage.
“The bandits have been defeated, and I’m returning with your men and some horses.” The soldiers cheered, but Cypher held out a hand to demand silence. “I’m sorry to say, Lady Millerton is dead. We’re bringing back her body, so get some sheets ready to cover her in.”
Once Cypher departed, the count suggested that everyone get some rest before the others arrived. “There’s a lot of work to do, and we may need to put off sleep until it’s all done.”
It was a good idea, but Sean’s pounding headache wouldn’t let him fall under, so he sat in misery and clutched his temple. As he tried to will the pain to go away, he caught some of the troops’ chatter and noticed how the name “Sir Barnes” came up occasionally. He was apparently a knight in the service of Lady Millerton, and her death was bound to hit him hard. Some said they pitied the poor man while others condemned him for his failure.
“Here, try to eat,” Callie said, bringing him a waterskin and some of the last of their salted pork. “Maybe it’ll make you feel better.”
“Thanks, Callie. Sorry for pushing you away like I did.”
“Well, you’d better not do that again, or I’ll toss you off the cliff and see if you can fly.” At his humorless face, Callie added, “Just kidding. I understand, and I forgive you. You damn well saved our lives, so we should all cut you a break.”
“Too bad I can’t summon a bolt of lightning, or that man would have been dropped sooner.”
“Cypher’s a sorcerer, so of course he can do amazing shit like that—and one day you can, too. And my lesson for the day is: Never get on a sorcerer’s bad side. Hell, we both learned that months ago, didn’t we, Kane?”
“Yes … and please remember, the name is ‘Sean’ now.”
“Oh, right … well, that’ll take some getting used to. You don’t really look like a ‘Sean.’”
“Too late now.”
“It sure is, Sean. Hmm, I should go back to Jonas; he can’t stop crying, and he keeps going on about how that crazy guy is going to kill him.”
Once she left, Sean tried out the pork, consuming it slowly because he didn’t feel like eating. About thirty minutes later, Master Cypher returned from the north along with seventeen soldiers (four of them being women) and six horses. Cypher ordered the Count’s retainers to light some torches and prepare the sheets for Lady Millerton’s body. A morose-looking man dismounted a white stallion and carefully took the body from the saddle, then delivered it to the empty carriage where it was wrapped in whatever sheets could be recovered from the remaining carts.
That must be Sir Barnes, Sean thought. He noticed that he was frowning at him, and that was when he realized he was being jealous. Not from how the man appeared more miserable than Sean did (if that was possible), but from how ruggedly handsome he was. Beard stubble covered a square jawline, and his long dark hair was combed back into a fine tail. Dark, bushy eyebrows complemented a pair of sincere-looking blue eyes, and his dark green tunic sported the silhouette of a lion, with chain mail underneath. It was small wonder that a noble lady would choose him as her champion.
With the body wrapped up and stored in the lady’s carriage, Sir Barnes knelt before Count Guyver and laid his sheathed sword on the ground, his head lowered in shame. “My Lord Guyver, I have failed to uphold a knight’s most sacred duty. I pledged my life to see Lady Millerton safe and secure, but I let her perish. My lord, allow me to place judgement in your hands. Sentence me as you see fit.”
“Sir Barnes, we were all caught off guard, and when the lady was kidnapped, you were the first to go after her,” Count Guyver said. “I see nothing to punish you for.”
Sir Barnes vehemently shook his head. “My lord is too kind. I am humbled, but this failure is unforgiveable. With Count Millerton also gone from us, it is for you to decide what to do with me.”
Count Guyver gave it some thought, then said, “Getting home should be our chief priority, so I shall delay your sentencing till we arrive at Darin Manor. Retrieve your sword, for you’ll still have need of it. Lady Millerton would think so, too.”
Although he seemed reluctant, Sir Barnes did what he was told and submitted himself to the troops’ captain for orders.
Cypher went to Sean and leaned his backside against the cart’s edge. “You did well, young man. Keep pushing yourself and it will grow less painful, but it’s important not to push yourself all at once. Do that, and you’ll make yourself an invalid.”
“Thank you, sir. By the way, I took your advice and gave myself a new name: Sean McAlister.”
Cypher raised his brow, for the name “McAlister” was that of a notorious family in Consaria known for being reckless with magic. “Are you sure you want to go with that name?”
Sean shrugged. “It might give me some respect, and if people don’t like it, I’ll just say I’m a distant relative.”
“It’s a name with a lot of baggage, but do as you wish.”
“So what was wrong with that man, anyway?”
“Who knows? He may have been respectable once, but then his life took a turn for the worse. Maybe he met with disaster, or maybe he made too many bad decisions. In the end, he fooled himself into thinking that he could do anything he wanted with magic, and that God would allow him to. I suppose the bandits used him as a tool and let him think he was the one in charge.”
“Poor fool.”
“Yes, but mages like us can easily slip into such a status if we’re not careful. You should always keep in mind that it’s our relationships with other people that give us power, not magic alone. It’s a lesson that even I have trouble with.”
Sean was surprised at Cypher’s candid admission, and he didn’t know what to say about it. “The count sounds very wise and kind. He could let the loss of his leg make him bitter, but he hasn’t. How long have you known him for?”
“Around twenty years. I first met him when he was a teen and wet behind the ears. King Hugo sometimes sent me to Darin Province because they produce an important crop for trade. Can you guess what it is?”
Sean wasn’t in the mood for guessing games, but he took Callie’s lesson to heart and humored the sorcerer. “Um, carrots? Broccoli? Turnips? You can never have enough turnips.”
“Hops,” Cypher said with a smirk. “Hard green bulbs used to make lager and ale. Count Guyver’s estate makes the most out of any other place between the two kingdoms. I used to be a mediator in trade negotiations, and I would sometimes do favors for the estate such as healing sick workers and making effective scarecrows.”
“Is that what the war is being fought over?” Sean asked, being only half-serious. “Does the King want to have all the hops for himself?”
“I should hope not, or else I’ll be sure to throttle King Hugo in his sleep for waging war over something so stupid. But I never said that, got it? As for Erik … yes, he’s a good man. Strict only when he needs to be. Now try and get some sleep; tomorrow’s a big day, and we’ve lost too much time for my liking.”
Sean nearly asked what the hurry was for, but he let the question drop. He was getting exhausted, and not even his headache could keep him conscious for long. Using a pile of clothing for a pillow, he lied down in the cart and got comfortable beside a sack of grain.
Before he drifted off to sleep, he recalled what Cypher had said of the old mage, that he “fooled himself into thinking that he could do anything he wanted with magic, and that God would allow him to.” Sean himself was a strong believer in God and his son-made-flesh, Micah, and he had used Micah’s lessons to guide him in life. Although he thought he could have done more, he believed Micah would mostly approve of the decisions he had made for himself.
He had given little thought to the idea that there were people in this day and age who believed God would condone their wicked acts. How could a loving God look at a man who ambushed a crippled convoy with raining fire, and then nod in approval? Sean didn’t know, but that old mage sure thought that was happening as he screamed and tried to murder the men beneath him.
It seemed like a reversal of something Micah said to his apostles, that the world would hate him because he testified of its evil works. But now, hundreds of years later, people still did evil works, only they did it in Micah’s name.
Eight
That morning, Count Guyver laid out four objectives: repair the vehicles, gather food, build cooking fires, and bury the dead. Sean went with the burial team, which consisted of him and three others. They went to the western end of the bluff with three horses to help carry the bodies, while the other horses (including the chestnut mare Cypher had recovered) went east. That way, none of the animals could be alarmed when the fallen ones were butchered for their meat before infestation set in.
The burial team chose a spot in the shade of a large evergreen where the soil wasn’t so hard. Only two shovels could be salvaged from the remains of the cart that got set ablaze, so two of the burial team had to use shields to dig. Sean tried to be accommodating to his new companions by asking for a shield, but the others insisted he use a shovel so the job would be easier for him. They clearly revered him as a hero, for one of the men had told the tale of Sean bringing up the barrier when the old mage attacked. Sean tried to be humble about it, but the man said he was greatly indebted to him for saving his life. Sean couldn’t help but be a little uncomfortable about it (he was not one to accept compliments in times of distress), but he was glad to have on his side these men whom he formerly called enemies.
They were done by eleven o’clock, patting down the dirt that lied atop six men and one woman. Four had died on the road during the ambush, and the other three during the raid on the bandit’s hideout. According to the soldiers who were at the hideout, more of them might have been killed if not for Master Cypher, who lent his fearsome magic skills to the battle.
When all was done, all four men gave parting words with brows slick with sweat. The soldiers promised to personally visit the families of the departed to deliver the news, as well as to ask the count to give the families grievance pay. Sean never knew the fallen soldiers, so he recited passages from the Holy Book that promised life everlasting to those who upheld their duties to the Lord God and their fellow man.
On their way back to the convoy, they passed by the remains of the old mage and his broken staff, which they left by the river for animals to find. Sean suggested they build a small pyre and burn the body, for it would only be proper, but he got outvoted. The soldiers didn’t feel they owed any backbreaking labor to the old mage, and their resentment of him understandably ran deep. Sean also didn’t care much for him, especially since the man had brought on his lingering headache, but he nonetheless glanced at the body with pity, wondering what had happened to put the man in such a bad state.
They arrived to find the vehicle repairs mostly completed, using scrap metal and hastily whittled pieces of wood. The butchered horses had already been carried away, and the horses from the burial team were hitched to the black carriage in front of Count Guyver’s. Lady Millerton had sat in this carriage in life, and in death she lied in it still, waiting for the day when she will be buried beside her husband in their estate. Cypher had cast a temporary stasis spell on the body to stave off decomposition, and out of necessity (though not everyone liked it), supplies were kept in the carriage alongside the human remains.
At around midafternoon, the vehicles at long last continued their way down the road, escaping the side of the bluff to reach level ground away from the river. There they stopped at the roaring fires that slowly cooked large hunks of horsemeat that made the men wary of predators attracted by the scent. They were right to be cautious, for a pack of wolves drew near to test the limits of the numerous humans. The wolves retreated after suffering arrow wounds, but they remained in view awaiting any scraps the humans may leave behind.
As the soldiers settled in for a meal of juicy horsemeat, stale flatbread, and boiled water, Count Guyver spoke a prayer for the dead, then assured everyone that while the day was wasted, they’ll continue on as before, stopping first at a way station for anything that might help on their journey. He finished the speech by thanking everyone for their hard work and their commitment to getting him home safely.
Sean sat with a circle of men, listening to tales of valor from the war, and while some might not have been true, they were still entertaining to listen to while dining on the slightly sweet horsemeat. Callie was meanwhile at another fire, getting acquainted with the four female soldiers of the lot. He felt a pang of jealousy which he quickly stamped down, for he was mostly glad Callie was enjoying the company of other women whom she probably had more in common with than the Consarian maids. He only hoped she hadn’t revealed that she was once a clan member who snatched purses and coffers, for that wouldn’t endear her to a lord’s men-at-arms.
Cypher and Jonas ate with the count, the lord and sorcerer probably planning what route they would take and what help Cypher would provide. Sean was afraid Jonas would grow fussy in their company, but he only sat in morose silence, his spirit disquieted from yesterday’s trauma. Seeing how the simple man couldn’t sustain himself alone, it was no wonder Cypher wanted to pull Jonas from the war, but the real question was why King Hugo cared about him. Hugo was a stern man with cold, calculating eyes who didn’t mind starting a war for mysterious reasons and sentencing a young man to death for an offense that didn’t call for it.
Of course, Jonas was a soothsayer, but was that the only reason a king had his eye on him? Just where did this ability come from, and did the other Roses have it also?
The next day saw light rain, which was always welcomed by long-distance travelers. Drinking water was easily obtained in pots and skins, and the road didn’t get too muddy and slick. The convoy took it as a sign of good fortune in the coming days, a relieving weather pattern after two days of hardship. When the rain let up that afternoon, some of the men asked Cypher to bring it back, but Cypher chided them for their request, saying they should have known that no sorcerer could make the skies rain on command.
The following evening, after exiting rough terrain into bountiful farmland, they arrived at the trading station. It was a simple setup of two cottages and a small inn with two long stables, surrounded by dozens of acres of wheat fields which held a dull golden hue in the dying sunlight. Sean had heard that the invading Lonsarans had burned numerous crops upon entering the country, but given the countless stalks of wheat ripe for the taking, those reports had to be either false or greatly exaggerated.
With the onset of the war, the station had been abandoned except for a few wild horses that ate in the fields. The soldiers found some meager leftov
ers, such as blankets and kitchen equipment in the cottages and sacks of grain in the stables, but they didn’t get as much as they hoped for. They risked building several fires from leftover firewood, conveniently using wheat stalks for kindling, and cooked the deer they had hunted that day. They sensed more wolves in the nearby woods but were confident they could defend themselves using freshly whittled arrows.
Sean felt at peace here as he helped feed the horses, keeping an eye on them as they grazed along the fields, yet he was anxious as well. He wanted the journey to be over with already, even knowing that his destination was weeks away. It wasn’t that his legs were sore or that his boots were in need of constant repair—he was used to those things. It was simply due to his uncertainty of the future, of not knowing what to do or expect once he arrived in Asturia. He had been a nobleman’s son up until last spring, and before his father’s betrayal he had always believed his status and security were assured: He would inherit the Bailey estate and become the new lord of Ester Barony. It would mean a lot of responsibility, but he would want for nothing and always have a roof over his head.
But now his life had been turned upside down and nothing was assured. He had been spoiled, he knew, but that realization didn’t make him any less uneasy about his prospects. He hoped that his schooling and experience with magic would land him a good job in Asturia, but Lonsarans imposed many restrictions on mages, requiring them to apply for numerous licenses before they could do so much as blink at a workplace. Sean would feel like he was jumping through hoops, but if that was what he needed to do, then so be it; he only wished to get the process started before his skills got rusty.
The Hunt for the Three Roses Page 9