“He uses mental magic,” Vinnie remarked, checking Gormer’s pulse. “But not well at all. Using the power wounds him.”
“I told you,” Tarkon hissed. “He’s a criminal. He’s corrupt, so the magic rebels inside him.”
Their eyes darted upward as their luck suddenly ran out. Shouting in the distance grew louder as it was directed toward them. Several guards near the gate pointed their way and moved toward them across the yard.
Tarkon looked around with calculating eyes. “I’ll get us out of here,” he said, then hopped up on the remaining horse.
“Hey!” Astrid shouted and jumped on just as the horse took off.
This one wore a saddle, but Astrid sat just behind it, forced to hold on to Tarkon as he pushed the horse toward the back gate.
“It’s a dead end!” Astrid shouted.
“Let go of me,” Tarkon said, loudly and calmly. “Grab the saddle.”
“You don’t like the touch of a lady,” she teased.
“Just do it!”
The gate came up on them fast. Astrid did as Tarkon said, gripping the leather. The small man somehow came to a standing position on the saddle. He let go of the reins five feet from the gate. The horse stopped, and Tarkon crouched down and jumped.
Not much surprised Astrid, but the sight of the man jumping off a horse to reach a height of ten feet certainly did it. Tarkon straightened his body like an arrow pointing toward the moon. Flames erupted from his cupped hands.
The man rocketed forward to land on the top of the wall where the gate mechanism was. The doors opened in seconds as the guards ran up behind them.
Vinnie charged through the gate, and Astrid followed. Tarkon hit the ground beside the horse and shoulder-rolled with an “OOMF.” It looked like a bad landing, but he hopped right back up and ran after Astrid’s horse. She reached out an arm, which Tarkon grabbed to haul himself up behind her.
They ran into the forest, leaving the confused keep behind.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The Forest, Between Argan and Keep 52
Gormer groaned on the horse, but Vinnie held him on as he stirred.
“Upside down again,” he moaned “What the hell… ”
“You’re on a horse in the woods,” Vinnie said. “You passed out.”
“But I’m still upside down. Stop the horse,” Gormer said. He pushed himself off as soon as the animal stopped.
He landed on his ass and propped himself up with his arms, feet splayed out in front of him. “How long have we been riding?”
“Less than a half hour,” Astrid replied.
“They should be here by now,” Gormer said, looking around.
“Who?” Tarkon asked, shifting uneasily behind Astrid’s saddle.
“My friends. I reached out to them telepathically,” Gormer replied, rising shakily to his feet. He peered into the shadowy, moonlit woods. “Unless they’re already here.”
Something crackled and snapped in the woods. Astrid perked up and Tarkon hopped down off the horse and raised cupped palms as he slowly circled.
“Relax,” Gormer called out. “That means all of you!” Gormer shouted.
Several dark figures emerged from the woods. Only one came out of the shadows while the rest lurked near tree trunks. A large man stepped forward with a wood axe over his shoulder. A wild, bushy red beard obscured most of his face, but couldn’t hide the scar that rose from his left cheek and ended above his left temple.
“You have some nerve calling on us, Gormer. I should strip you naked, rob your friends, and leave you in the woods.”
“Well, now,” Astrid said, “I might not have an issue with item one, but you wouldn’t want to try the second part of that proposal.”
The man’s cold, blue eyes turned to Astrid slowly. He looked her up and down, then took in the rest of the crew. “You all look but a trifle to me and my crew.” He raised a hand and at least a dozen more figures appeared from the woods.
Astrid hid her concern behind a wise-ass comment. “Well, since you put it like that, let’s talk.”
The man gave a brief, gruff chuckle and Gormer seized the moment. “I got caught, yes,” he explained. “But I didn’t give you up.”
“You got caught because you tried to make off with our share of the coin. Probably to buy opium,” the man said.
Damn it, Astrid thought, a junkie is the last thing I need.
“Well, yes,” Gormer replied. “I was hoping you’d understand. I needed to get some medication for my… condition… I just didn’t have time to explain it to you.”
“The only reason I’m not beating you to a pulp,” the burly man said, shifting his axe from one shoulder to the other, “is because you did us right on a bunch of raids. I’m just here to tell you that your time is over. Don’t darken my doorway again.”
“But you haven’t met my new friends,” Gormer said, sweeping his hand toward the rest. “And you don’t have a doorway to darken.”
“We were friends once,” the ax man said, letting sadness enter his voice.
“I’m a shitty friend,” Gormer confessed. “Story of my life. Sorry. It’s who I am, but look: this woman and this fat guy just broke me and this glum fucker over here—” he pointed to Tarkon“—out of jail. They set a warehouse on fire and stole two horses. The keep didn’t know what hit it. Literally. I still don’t know how they did it.”
While Gormer spoke, the big man’s lips parted slightly and his eyes widened a bit. He lowered his ax head to the ground and leaned on the handle and said, “You don’t say… ” Then, he smiled. “I’m listening.”
“They’re standing up to the Protector’s goons,” Gormer said. “They’re gonna need all the help they can get.”
Tarkon lurched forward and opened his mouth to object, but Astrid silenced him with a hard glare. He folded his arms across his chest and stared at the big man.
“This one doesn’t seem to like our kind,” Red Beard said. “But I’d be willing to work with the fat one and this strong-looking woman.”
Astrid gave a reserved smile to the yellow-toothed grin of the bandit leader. “My name is Astrid. What’s yours?”
“They call me The Woodsman, but my friends call me ‘Woody,’” he replied.
“OK, Woody,” Astrid said “If you—”
“Call me Woodsman for now,” he interrupted.
Astrid frowned, disappointed that she fell for that cheap head game. “Right, Beard,” she recovered. “You help us out, and we’ll see what we can do.”
“You gotta do better than that,” Woody said.
A coin purse hit him in the chest. Vinnie adjusted himself on his horse. “I have a bit more where that came from. It’s not the coin of this land, but it’s solid gold.”
“Gold?” Woody asked. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand and brought the ax back to his shoulder. More bandits emerged from the shadows, faces cloaked in shadow beneath hoods.
“You just fucked up,” Gormer muttered, backing away.
“Well, now,” Woody said. “Maybe we just take that gold, and we don’t need you.”
Vinnie became a blur. One second he was on his horse, the next he stood inches from Woody, nose-to-nose. The ground rumbled.
“You wouldn’t want to try that,” Vinnie said. “Do not test my generosity or my kindness. You don’t want to be on the wrong side of either.”
Woody swallowed and took a few steps back. He gave a crazy, stressed laugh. “Oh, this will be interesting. I like this one. You have a deal.”
“This is a mistake,” Tarkon sidled up to Astrid and muttered.
“Only one way to find out,” Astrid replied. “Are you in, or not?”
“I’m still in. Said I was. My word is steel,” Tarkon said flatly.
Drama queen, Astrid thought to herself. “Good,” she said aloud as she dismounted.
Astrid walked over to Woody and stuck out her hand. The grip she found was calloused, firm, and unwavering, as were his eyes.
About half of them were women. Most had small hatchets hanging from their belts, but the majority of the women carried bows and quivers full of hand-crafted, river cane arrows.
Woody whistled, and his companions did the same. A few seconds later, the forest was full of the sound of galloping horses. A herd of lean, powerful steeds each found a person, and all the bandits mounted.
“Even their horses are stealthy,” Tarkon said with admiration.
“Where to?” Woody asked. He climbed on his horse, with its light-brown coat and a white diamond on its forehead.
“The village of Argan,” Astrid said. “We need to get there quickly, before the Compliance Officers return.”
“Are you sure they ever left?” Vinnie asked.
“You drew a compliance check already?” Woody asked. “I am impressed. It means you’ll probably lose, but I’m still impressed.”
“If I lose, you lose,” Astrid said.
“As long as we get paid, I don’t give a fuck,” Woody said. “Follow me. I know a quick path.”
On horseback and on a wider trail off the main road, the trip took just two hours. They arrived back at the village around two in the morning. Astrid had the bandits recon the area before they went in.
Just as she had wagered with herself, Jank and his men were gone. They had all run to respond to the horns from the relay posts up and down the Toll Road.
Rather than enter the village in darkness, Astrid decided to camp out in the woods. Vinnie stood watch until morning.
Lungu Fortress and Environs, Shores of Lake Bicaz
Krann always enjoyed seeing the Fortress City. He considered it a personal achievement by extension. He remembered stories from his great-grandfather describing how his father before him helped collect the tribute for the first stones to be laid.
It was different today, though. The Fortress and the might of the family it stood for seemed different. The system Krann was born into and raised to serve, preserve, quantify, and analyze seemed to face a challenge he had never dreamed of. That challenge took the form of one woman.
The numbers in his ledgers were the same as they had been for the past thirty years. Tribute was up in some places, down in others. Some villages needed punitive measures, others got rewards. But the system he thought was perfect, when faced with someone like that terrible woman, seemed to break down.
Krann thought about all of this as his horse-drawn coach glided through the orderly grid of streets just inside the Fortress wall. The sun was shining on the shops and all those spending money. Fall fashions were on display—all representing the economy that Krann considered his personal achievement.
The streets cleared for the Commissioner's coach all the way up to the Fortress proper. Its towering stone walls rose a hundred-and-fifty-feet above the one and two-story buildings.
At the gate, Krann exchanged a series of passphrases to get his wagon through. They checked the driver’s credentials and those of the four crossbow-armed guards who rode on the outside of the coach. They had stood on those narrow platforms for fifty miles, all the while on high alert.
It took ten minutes for Krann and his driver to finally reach the atrium of the Protector’s offices. When they did, the driver nearly collapsed from hauling behind him the steamer trunk full of records that Krann brought to present to his Protector.
When one of the secretaries came to ask who he was, Krann was surprised to see the look of shock on his face. The slight little man scurried off and disappeared through the doors at the back of the high-ceilinged hall.
The guard arched his eyebrows. “That didn’t look good, boss,” he said.
Normally, Krann would have chewed the dolt’s head off, but he couldn’t because he happened to agree with the guard.
A minute later, the secretary came back with two of Lungu’s personal detail. The warriors and secretary whisked them away through the atrium and into the Protector’s office past rows of benches on which petitioners of every description glared jealously.
“I’ve been waiting for three hours,” Krann heard one of them complain as he walked by.
“Consider yourself lucky that you have good news,” Krann replied, not bothering to turn his head.
The doors closing at the back of the room sounded ominous. The guard behind him had trouble putting one foot in front of the other.
Lungu swept into the chamber with his short, red cape flowing behind him. His broad chest was covered in brass chainmail. He had a brass helmet tucked under one arm and a blunted training sword on his belt.
“Commissioner Krann,” Lungu said, his voice surprisingly high for such a tall man. “I understand you have dire news for me.”
“Yes, Protector,” Krann said with a bow. “Last night, Keep 52 was attacked… ”
“Yes, yes,” Lungu interrupted. He made two gestures and attendants scurried forward from the borders of the large room bearing two chairs. “This was in your emergency report. It’s details I want right now. We should sit for this, you and I.”
Lungu waved his hand at Krann’s driver, who bowed jerkily and stumbled over his feet as he scurried away. Krann was honored at the great sign of respect Lungu showed him by sitting down with him. Normally, those in service were required to stand.
“What… what is that?” Lungu asked, pointing at the chest. “What is he leaving behind, Krann?”
“The annual reports of Keep 52,” Krann said, proudly as he sat. “While I was here, I thought… ”
“Very good, Krann. Very good. I’ll look at them later.” Lungu practically groaned at the thought of paperwork. Another wave of his hand made the attendants hustle away with the steamer trunk.
“Tell me about this woman who assaulted you,” Lungu said. “I understand she was seven feet tall?”
Krann scowled. “I estimate her to be about six feet even. It seems that men beaten by a woman feel the need to justify their defeat.”
Lungu gave an easy chuckle, then set his steam-shovel jaw. “Let’s hope she doesn’t meet my men anytime soon. We haven’t sent first-order agents into the villages in twenty years. I don’t want to start now.”
“Very wise, Protector,” Krann said.
Lungu frowned and locked his dark brown eyes on Krann’s. “I didn’t grant you this audience to receive flattery. I have a whole court for that. I expect nothing but facts from my Commissioners.”
“Yes, Protector Lungu. My apologies,” Krann said. His voice sounded calm in his ears, but his heart pounded as if it wanted to escape his chest. An audience with the esteemed Protector was a rare thing.
“Your report said this woman snuck into the Keep admin building, assaulted a guard, and forced her way into your office… to pay a toll?”
“The day before, she fought Pleth’s men on the Toll Road after refusing to be taken into custody.”
“Are any of these men dead?” Lungu asked.
“None,” Krann said, after a moment of hesitation. “Their injuries were not minor, but they weren’t severe, either.”
Lungu pinched his dimpled chin and stared through Krann. He blinked and finally responded. “This is a very skilled fighter we are dealing with. I’m not sure that you are aware how much training and restraint it takes to do what this woman has done.”
“I think I have some idea,” Krann said in spite of himself. He rubbed his hand on his sore neck where Astrid pinched his windpipe closed. At that moment, with her hand expertly cutting off his ability to breathe, he thought he would die.
“Fair enough,” Lungu said with an easy smile. The man’s face seemed to go from clouds to sunshine in seconds. “It was in your report, but tell me what she said again. I want to hear it in your voice.”
“She said that she would—”
“No, think, Krann, think. I want to hear exactly what she sai
d. Remember.”
Lungu seized him with his eyes that turned black, then white as eggshells. The Protector had learned a little mental magic, but using it drained him. Krann’s hands fell limp on his lap. “She said, ‘The Village of Argan will pay its rightful share to this Protectorate, but not if it means children will starve. This territory has a Protector? Fine. Argan now has me to protect it.’”
It was as if he were there, in that room again. Then, it was over. Lungu released him.
“Argan village… why there?” Lungu asked.
“She came to pay her toll. After she threw the coin on my desk, she told me that one of Pleth’s men used a compliance measure with the village Elder.”
“Ah, Pleth,” he sighed. “I remember him now. This is why that village sounds familiar. Your man Pleth sent along the most delicious sugar beet wine made in that village. He included a personal note, in fact. Very nice touch. We drank it at the last Protector’s territorial meeting. Nothing like good drinks to help settle disputes.”
Lungu paused for a moment as he delved deeper into the memory. “Yes, and then the note mentioned something about a sick child. I don’t know. I skip the boring parts. When you’re at the top, everyone looks to you for handouts.”
Krann went cold inside. His toes and fingers went numb from the rage he masked so expertly. There was no record of sugar beet wine production from Argan Village. Pleth did this behind his back to earn favor with Lungu.
“Oh,” Lungu exclaimed. “That village also grows the most wonderful hot peppers! Your man Pleth certainly knows how to allocate acreage. I gave a bushel of hot peppers to Protector Petran, and he could hardly eat one. He makes his agent trainees eat one every day. Said it filled them with vigor!”
Krann stared at Lungu with a dead face while he seethed inside. “There is one thing, though, that is peculiar,” Krann said. “The woman said that she left a note for us on Pleth’s wagon. Pleth did not report this, nor did his men mention any note.”
“Oh?” Lungu replied. “That is most disconcerting.” He paused a moment. “Let Pleth have his secret. When he thinks his lie is safe, we will come for it. That is the best time to unpack a lie. In the meantime, I want you to send Jank back to the village and retrieve this Astrid person. I want her brought to me unharmed.”
Knight's Creed: Age Of Magic - A Kurtherian Gambit Series (Tales of the Wellspring Knight Book 1) Page 8