Shades Of Glory: Age Of Magic - A Kurtherian Gambit Series (The Hidden Magic Chronicles Book 3)

by Justin Sloan

  An ice spear nearly caught him, but two of Laird Lokane’s wind mages hit it with a gust that sent it to shatter at his feet.

  “Form a line!” Bale commanded, and the paladins did so—including Stone, even though he had left their ranks before this had all started.

  They charged, but even the wind mages couldn’t keep all the spells away from them, and then wild folk, men dressed in barely any clothes and covered in white paint, charged in. They were from the clans of the north, who were known to be vicious. Soon even the paladins were getting pushed back to their defensive positions.

  When the call came for retreat, Stone was expecting it. Too many were falling, their positions having been overrun.

  “Release the wall!” came a shout, and at this he turned, confused. He ran to a window when he heard a great rumbling. The wall on the far side was crumbling and water was shooting out.

  “Everyone out, NOW!” Laird Summers shouted, and a hand grabbed Stone, pulling him out of there and into a tunnel that they quickly worked to close with a large stone behind them, sliding it into the carved crevices. Someone had really thought this through, he realized as he heard the gush of water and saw the water mages behind them focusing.

  Screams came from the other side, but he was sure it wouldn’t do complete damage. They would have their own water mages, or if not, the one they called “Master Irdin” could likely do a good job of freezing at least part of it to assist them in their escape.

  “Stay with me!” Bale shouted and Stone snapped out of it, turning to run with the others and escaping through the now-blocked tunnels as water started seeping through the stone barriers behind them.

  Well, they had been wondering where that bastard Master Irdin was hiding, and now they knew. Somehow he had found their hideout, though it wasn’t hard to imagine how with all the clansfolk streaming in, and the paladins.

  The paladins had come straight from the enemy camp. Why hadn’t he thought of it before?

  Halfway up the tunnels he turned on Oldran, pulling him close. “Keep your eyes open and watch the other paladins. It’s possible one of them left a trail for the enemy to follow.”

  Oldran’s eyes went wide and his mouth moved as if he meant to argue, but then he nodded.

  As they made a run for it, keenly aware that there could be more of the enemy waiting for them above, he considered who it could be. None of them made sense, but he didn’t know most as well as he knew Oldran, Bale, and Gerin. He certainly hoped he was wrong, but at least it wasn’t one of those three. Regardless of how friendly they had once been, if he found out someone he knew was behind this, they would pay.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The small boat was nothing compared to the two larger ones that came out to meet her once she had passed into the waters of the Kingdom of Gulanri, nearly two days after having set sail.

  “Kill all lights,” Alastar ordered, and it was done. “Andreas, one more burst here.”

  The lad had taken a break as they approached, getting a feel for what they would be up against and preparing to make their move before the sun rose. Now it was time to make it past the patrol. Better not to have to explain themselves quite yet, he figured.

  Andreas gave him a nod and then stepped up again to place his staff in the bucket of saltwater his magic demanded. With a swoosh of wind their sail filled and they were off, sticking close to the shore while riding high enough to avoid the rocks.

  A shout came from one of the large ships. They had started to turn toward them, but with Andreas’ help, the Gulanri ships didn’t stand a chance. The small ship had left them far behind by the time the larger one even had time to fully catch the wind.

  “They still might pursue if they actually saw us,” Kim noted.

  “Let’s make this quick, then.” Rhona turned to the land, assessing it. “How far is Lonran from the King’s wall?”

  Alastar considered this. He wasn’t sure of the exact location the wall had been built, only that the King of Gulanri had ordered one built toward the end of the Age of Madness to separate the south and north. It would likely be around a mid-point, he guessed, but knew it was south of the Ghostland Ruins.

  “I wish it were as simple as that,” he stated, deciding that focusing on such landmarks wouldn’t really be of much help. “We won’t be close until we see the point where the water cuts into the land. ‘The Knife’s Edge,’ it’s called. We follow that, find a port if possible, and go the rest of the way on foot.

  “Wonderful,” Rhona replied, moving back to try and find a comfortable place on the ship.

  He knew what she meant—this wasn’t exactly a luxury ride. While Leila had been right about them finding the boat useful, sailing with magic at twice the speed for almost two days for non-sailors simply wasn’t easy on the body. It was made worse by the choppiness of the water.

  At least there hadn’t been any storms.

  “Why do you suppose there were patrol ships out and about anyhow?” Lars asked, staring back the way they had come. “Surely the king of Gulanri doesn’t have the resources to keep ships floating about at all times.”

  “Could he have already heard about the sorcerers?” Kim replied.

  “I don’t think so,” Alastar chimed in. “I mean, if so, he’d likely have more defenses set up that we would’ve noticed, right? Or, knowing that magic was coming, he would’ve sent magic users aboard those ships. If they saw us, which they would’ve, then they would’ve used magic to stop us.”

  “He has a point.” Kim scrunched her nose in thought. “It was dark and too far away to get a good look, but…”

  “I thought of that, too,” Lars said. “It could’ve been, but how’d they make it so far?”

  Rhona gave Alastar a quizzical look. She was about to ask them to elaborate when she caught on.

  “No, you don’t think… Barskall?”

  Lars nodded. “They made it to the village with Leila. Who knows where else they went or how many there are.”

  “The situation up north must’ve gotten pretty damn bad for them.”

  “They were probably searching for places to land, hailing us to ask for help.”

  “Let’s not get hung up on not helping the Barskall,” Kim commented with a laugh. “The best kind of Barskall is at the bottom of the sea, I always say.”

  “I know you do,” Lars replied with a smile. “That’s what I like about you.”

  “Whoa there, flirting over the idea of the dead—keep that behind closed doors,” Rhona said. “They…didn’t seem that bad.”

  “If you knew the atrocities their people have committed,” Lars put an arm around Kim and holding her tightly, “you’d think otherwise.”

  For a while they simply sailed, watching the sunrise over the mainland in the distance—a scattering of purple and red mixed with the dark blue of the water around them. Andreas finally sat down, leaned against the back of the boat, and closed his eyes.

  “Wake me if we need to run. Otherwise, get lost,” he said, and started snoring almost immediately. They sailed on a bit more, Lars steering the boat to stay as close to land as they dared.

  After a while, when Kim had sat down and started to doze off too, Rhona came over to Alastar’s side and gave him a worried look.

  “What’s this mean for our land?” she asked. “I mean, the sorcerers, and now this. Our lives will never be the same, will they?”

  “We don’t want them to be, right?”

  She smiled, considering that. “True, but…the way things are going, I’d guess we’re in for some dark days.”

  “You, afraid of the dark?”

  She held out her hand as if to slap him. “You know what I mean. Shut up, or I’ll show you what being afraid of the dark is truly like.”

  “Don’t you remember, Sis? I have the power of light.”

  “I doubt I could forget if I tried,” she said with a laugh. “Your people tried to hunt me down. Speaking of which, why do you think this sorcerer group is aft
er me?”

  “Honestly, that’s been bothering me,” he admitted. “The only thing I can figure is that it had something to do with Sir Gildon. He was working with them, and your magic started up right around the same time they arrived. There’s no way that’s a coincidence.”

  She nodded, and he could tell that bothered her.

  “I’m never letting them get to you. You know that, right?” He turned to fully face her, arms crossed. “You’re strong on your own, but don’t forget you have family and friends.”

  She bit her lip, eyes blinking, then gave him a quick hug. “Thanks. I mean, I know that, of course, but sometimes I don’t know that.”

  “Well, if those bastards show their faces around here, look my way. You’ll see me at your side, and a second later you’ll see me pulverizing those faces.”

  “Enough talk of violence.” She leaned on the rail, breathing in the early morning air. “Let’s focus on the beauty of the land while we can and let all that come later.”

  He agreed, and for the rest of the journey that’s just what they did. It was a chilly morning, but with the peace of the water and the beauty of the land as they sailed past made one hell of a scene. He could almost believe they were on vacation, simply floating away from their troubles.

  Then the water turned sharply inland, and he knew they had reached their goal. The kingdom would be at the water’s end.

  He had no idea what to expect, nor did he know how they would gain an audience with the king, but he knew it had to be done. A glance at the supposed Sword of Light reminded him of one approach they could take, but he wasn’t sure it would work. After all the lies the High Paladin had told them, was it even remotely possible that this king gave a damn about this sword?

  Soon they found a dock and tied the ship to an old, nearly collapsing pier. The city was visible not far off, and there were no other ships in the water. Odd, that, considering the power Alastar had always understood the king to possess.

  The walk didn’t take nearly as long as expected, although that could have been because of the massive amounts of city still intact here. They walked past tall apartment complexes on streets that barely looked like they had seen turmoil, and past markets that put the bazaars of Roneland to shame.

  “How is it we never knew this existed?” Alastar asked, looking up at shattered billboards and whistling. He spotted a cart selling meat on a stick and corn, so he pulled out a couple of coins and bought enough for the group.

  Eyeing the coins, the merchant pulled her shawl tight with one hand. When she turned back to Alastar, she said, “A word of advice. Don’t let them know you’re outsiders once you reach the city center. Some folks here aren’t as friendly as I am.”

  “How’d you know?” Alastar asked, then looked at his group and cringed. “Oh, right.”

  While the other men walking around this part of the city wore britches and jerkins over plain shirts and many of the women were in long dresses, he and his crew were dressed like a warrior, two mages, and two barbarian emissaries.

  He laughed, checking his coins, and asked the woman, “Do you know where we can buy some clothes?” She pointed them in the right direction.

  “I’d rather take my chances,” Lars stated as they walked away, looking with disdain at the clothes being worn by everyone around them.

  “We have to fit in,” Alastar insisted.

  Lars grunted but went along with it, as they all did, and soon they were walking through the streets looking like everyone else, only with large bundles on their backs holding their armor, weapons, and previous clothes. Or at least, they thought they did. People still stared, and Alastar decided it must’ve been Lars with the Norse look to him.

  Nothing they could do about that, though.

  While the city had plenty to amaze them, it had its downsides as well. One side street they passed was occupied by a gang of teens who smelled like shite, and at one point they passed a man in chains being whipped by a guard as they paraded him down the street.

  “Move aside,” a guard said, shoving more prisoners through.

  “The castle, is it this way?” Alastar asked, but that only earned him a glare.

  “You look like the type who’d know his way to the castle,” an old woman said, eyeing Alastar up and down, but then leaning in, focusing on his face. “But…you’re not from here, eh?”

  “The castle, ma’am?”

  Her smile revealed stained black teeth, and she motioned past a hill full of houses. “Up there, then there’s no missing it.”

  He couldn’t help noticing the intrigued look she gave him as he thanked her. When they came to the top of the hill, he saw what she meant—there it was, amongst a sea of brown roofs and chimneys, with ruins in the distance. The castle was an old government building with new stone pillars added at the entrance and battlements atop those, though they looked out of place. While there were likely plenty of old castles around, he supposed it made sense that this one would be the most comfortable and easily defensible, given its location and the level of upkeep most ancient castles required.

  To build anything new would either require a lot of labor or magic.

  “Suppose we better get to it,” Lars said, readjusting his belongings to get a better grip. “I’d hate to have to carry this stuff longer than necessary.”

  “I’ve heard stories of your king,” Andreas remarked as they started walking.

  “Technically he’s not our king,” Rhona replied, “seeing as the Lost Isles aren’t united.”

  Andreas shrugged. “Right, sure. And why is that?”

  “His lack of interest in helping out Roneland in the battles between the paladins and the clans.”

  “Exactly. He didn’t want to be involved before, so why now?”

  Alastar felt his heart double-beat as he thought of something. “Maybe it wasn’t that he didn’t want to help, but that he knew something we didn’t. He knew there wasn’t a right side in that war.”

  “So why not try to stop it?” Andreas asked.

  “Not enough power?” Rhona suggested.

  “Right,” Alastar agreed. “That, or maybe he thought that would make him the enemy. An outside force coming to intervene on neither party’s side could soon turn both sides against him.”

  “All those years, all those deaths,” Rhona shook her head. “At least now we know who the bad guys are.”

  “If we win, that’s a good thing,” Andreas stated. “If we lose, that will just make us more depressed.”

  Kim laughed at that. “Not us, exactly. We can always sail home.”

  “So you will, then?” Alastar asked. “After this is over.”

  “We’ll do our part to help,” she replied, “but yes, once it’s over, we’re heading home.”

  He nodded, knowing that was the answer but secretly hoping they had changed their minds. Their presence wasn’t unwelcome. In fact, he was growing quite fond of them.

  Soon they were in the great cobblestone square outside the palace looking up at the greatness of it. Nothing in Roneland quite compared, though Alastar wasn’t sure if that meant he liked it more. It was impressive, but intimidating at the same time. And something about it felt familiar too, as if he had been here in another life.

  “Here goes,” Rhona said as they approached the guards at the door. “Alastar?”

  He grunted, mumbled “Fine,” and stepped forward. “We’re here to see the king,” Alastar told the guard. The others were close behind him.

  The guard scoffed, glanced his way before looking straight ahead again with another scoff.

  An older guard stepped up now; he must’ve been passing on the street. He looked them over and asked, “Who’re these folks?”

  “They must’ve lost their way,” the younger guard replied.

  “It would appear so.”

  Rhona stepped forward, annoyed now. “Move aside and let the king know we’re here and would like to see him, or so help me—”

  “Rhona,
” Alastar chided, “that’s not the way to—”

  “Wait…Rhona?” The older guard turned to look at her now, then at Alastar at her side. As he stood there, his sternness melted and his jaw began to slowly drop. “Get them inside, now.”

  “Excuse me?” the younger guard asked, confused.

  “You heard what I said. Now!”

  The younger guard sprang to action, unlocking the door and moving aside for them to enter with the older guard at their rear. Although the inside was old and crumbling, it was adorned with great tapestries and banners. On one side were the golden wings of King Evanar, the first of his name. It was one long banner split down the middle, with strips of gold lining each side. At the top, above the split, was the royal crowned shield in blue and gold.

  Seeing it here, Alastar felt a sensation of awe and something else he couldn’t quite describe. Nostalgia? A latent memory bubbling to the surface? In his mind he was here in this very hall, running about and laughing as his mother chased him.

  How did that make sense? A quick glance in Rhona’s direction showed that she was equally troubled by something here.

  “What is this about, sir?” Alastar asked. “Why were you so eager once you heard my sister’s name?”

  “Sir Egland,” the man said, moving aside his cloak to show, as Alastar had suspected, that he wore the symbol of the crowned shield on his left breast plate. This meant he was not only a knight, but one of the king’s most trusted inner circle of knights. “The truth is, I might have normally hesitated. Doubted, even,” he glanced toward the three from Kaldfell, “especially with such company.”

  “Doubted what?” Alastar asked, irritation pronounced in his voice.

  Sir Egland assessed him, then shook his head. “Walk fast. I’ll tell you as we move.”

  Alastar spared a moment to share a concerned look with his comrades, then followed. They all appeared both as confused and intrigued as he felt.

  They moved past several guards, who moved promptly aside for Sir Egland but couldn’t help glancing at the odd group with curiosity. Halfway up the stairs, the knight started talking.