Knight's Creed: Age Of Magic - A Kurtherian Gambit Series (Tales of the Wellspring Knight Book 1)

by P. J. Cherubino

  The front door of the house crashed open and four men with crossbows burst out and formed a line. They must have come through the house from the other side. No time to worry about that now, Astrid thought.

  Gormer shot one of them through the neck. The others were unfazed. They had selected a target. It was obvious it had been Tarkon they saw first as they each took aim on him. Tarkon was about to die.

  Astrid summoned energy and dove into the line of fire. Three bolts pierced her back through the thick, studded leather. She slid across the ground on her chest with blood bubbling and foaming from her mouth. They had pierced her lungs, but Tarkon was safe.

  “NOOOO!” Moxy screamed, the word barely recognizable as she launched herself at the crossbowmen.

  “Die, pigfuckers!” Gormer screamed as he went after the men with his short, thin blade.

  Astrid was already on her feet, but the blood spraying from her mouth trapped her words. She wanted to tell them she was OK.

  Two on three, she thought. Claws and a dagger against short swords. Shit!

  She tried to rush in, but the lack of oxygen made her dizzy. Energy from the Well kept her on her feet and alive, but she was no damn good.

  Two more explosions turned two mercenary heads into a red blooms of horror. Tarkon had more ammunition. Gormer and Moxy instantly pounced on the other man and took him down in a split second.

  Tarkon quickly made his way to Astrid and steadied her. “How are you still alive right now?” he asked with more emotion in his voice than Astrid had yet heard from him.

  She allowed Tarkon to hold her up while she bent down and squeezed the blood from her lungs with her diaphragm.

  She took in an agonizing breath. “The Well,” she wheezed.

  “Astrid, no!” Sally yelled, running up to her.

  “We got all of them, Astrid,” George said from behind Sally. He looked panicked. “Oh Gods, lay her down. Don’t worry, Astrid. We won’t let your death go unanswered.”

  Astrid grabbed George by the collar and pulled him close. “Shut the fuck up. Get these fucking bolts out of me!” she managed to wheeze through the agony.

  “Wha-what?” George said. He looked ready to faint.

  Astrid pushed him away and waved Gormer over. He walked up almost casually.

  “Push them through,” she said as she grabbed his armor with both fists. “Before I pass out.”

  “Do what now?” Gormer cocked his head and asked.

  “Cut the feathers off and push the bolts through. I’ll pull them out,” Astrid said. “Hurry, you fucking idiot.”

  Gormer chuckled. “This is a first. Hang on.”

  He sliced the feathers off the bolts while Astrid turned to Tarkon and gripped his shoulders to stay upright.

  “The one on the left,” Astrid groaned. “Angle it down so it misses my heart.”

  George had seen enough. His eyes rolled up and his knees gave out as he passed out. The bandits who weren’t busy securing the village gathered around to watch.

  Gormer worked fast. She felt the bolts moving around while he whittled them down. Her whole body shook. Veins on her arms and forehead pulsed and writhed like worms on a hot sidewalk.

  She didn’t scream when Gormer rammed the first bolt through the front of her chest just below her heart. Nor did she scream when the second came through a few inches to the right of that. The third one hurt just as bad when it came through just above her solar plexus. No scream then, either.

  Her black eyes went wild as she wrapped each hand around the first two spikes that had come through. It was impossible to take a deep breath with all the blood in her lungs, so she just pulled.

  They came out in one savage yank. She tossed them on the ground, then grabbed the third. It came out slower because she was about to drop, but she managed the feat with impressive strength. She did scream then, lifting her black eyes to the sky.

  She hung on to the final arrow as she dropped to her knees with every muscle on fire. She wasn’t sure how long it took her to hack up enough gore from her lungs to take a decent breath and stand.

  When she finally got on her feet, she met faces full of everything from terror to awe to complete disbelief.

  She smiled as she steadied her swaying. “Woo! Damn. That was a lot of fun, but I wouldn’t recommend it.”

  Everyone looked at her, their faces somewhere between shock and wondering if laughing at her humor was appropriate.

  Shaking her head, she decided to change topics. “Is everyone safe?” she asked.

  “We didn’t lose anyone,” Sally said. “Some injuries, though. Don’t know how bad.”

  Her lungs burned and itched as the Well repaired them, but she felt the energy begin to fade. She had never taken that much damage in combat before. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take.

  She walked over to George, snorting as she pointed down at him. “Did he hit his head?” she asked, obviously amused.

  Gormer let out a gale of hysterical laughter. “Asked the woman who just pulled three crossbow bolts from her chest.”

  Astrid couldn’t help but chuckle. “Well, I’m trying to be the bigger man here and check on the ladies.” She winked. “Any of the mercs left alive?”

  “No,” one of the bandits said. “They didn’t want to be taken alive. Fought like hell.”

  “The family?” Astrid asked.

  The bandit looked sheepish. “We took out the bosses just in time. They would have killed all of them, the fucking animals. Unfortunately, the family panicked. Locked themselves in the basement. They refuse to come out.”

  That’s when Astrid heard muffled shouting. She hurried inside, where she found a crazy-eyed bandit in front of the thick basement door.

  “I fucking told you we’re not gonna hurt you!” the big man yelled. His sleeve was cut and his right arm was caked with blood. His face was bruised and puffy. Astrid immediately recognized him as a man still lost in battle adrenaline. She had seen it before.

  “What’s going on?” Astrid said in a mild voice.

  The bandit turned, and the sight of Astrid knocked him out of his frenzied mode. “Holy shit, your eyes…” he said with a gasp. “What the fuck happened to you, Astrid? Looks like you took a nap in a slaughterhouse.”

  “You look like you’ve been in the mix yourself,” Astrid said with an easy smile.

  “Heh,” was all the bandit managed.

  “I’m sorry, but I haven’t had time to learn all your names…”

  “Alvin,” the bandit said, slapping his chest.

  “Alvin, I have a job for you. Take these two guys—” she pointed at Alvin’s two companions, who seemed much calmer “—and find the Elder of this village. He might be in the stockade. They were whipping him. After that, get someone to look at your arm.”

  “Fuck my arm. I hate those assholes. I’m glad they're dead!” Alvin bellowed. “We killed the bosses. Fuckers almost killed us back.” Alvin rambled on and veins bulged in his neck.

  “Yeah,” Astrid said, casting a meaningful glance at the two much calmer, less-wounded bandits. “Great job. Your buddies here will help. I need you to make sure the guy is OK and bring him back here to his family in the basement. That’s your mission. You got that? It’s important. Only you can do that.”

  “I’m on it!” the man shouted and bolted from the house.

  Astrid was breathing easier now, but it was still difficult. She pulled a chair closer to the basement door and sat down heavily. She tapped lightly on the door.

  “Hello down there,” she called out with a calm, gentle voice. “Can you hear me?”

  “Just take what you want!” a woman’s voice called back. “Don’t hurt us.”

  Astrid sighed even though it burned. “My friends and I are here to help.”

  “You’re bandits! You killed those men!” the woman shouted back.

  “Yes,” Astrid replied. “We’re bandits. But we’re not going to hurt you. I’m pretty sure those other men were g
oing to kill you all.”

  “Just go away,” the woman pleaded.

  “When we are sure you are safe, we certainly will,” Astrid said.

  “We’ll never be safe now. Jank’s men will punish us,” she called back, obvious fear in her crackled words.

  “No,” Astrid said, her voice dropping several octaves. “I mean to take care of Jank for good. I’ll give you the tools to protect yourselves while I’m working on that.”

  “We don’t have much of a choice now,” a voice said from the doorway.

  Astrid turned to find the village Elder flanked by bandits. He was shirtless, bruised and bleeding.

  “No,” Astrid said. “You don’t.”

  The Elder was proud. He walked painfully across his living room to the stairs. A minute later, he came back down wearing a tan shirt.

  “I believe you mean well,” the Elder said. He lifted the volume of his voice and said. “Did you hear that? Please come out. These people won’t hurt us.”

  A few seconds later, scraping and thumping sounded behind the door. A woman came out with three teenage girls and a young boy.

  “Where is my son?” the woman asked.

  “Safe,” Astrid said. “I’ll send for him.”

  “What happened to you?” the woman asked, eying Astrid’s condition.

  “I got in a fight,” she replied.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Leaving Bellford

  Burying the bodies was a terrible job. They did the work in a rotation field near the woods. Bandits and villagers alike worked together. They finished by putting up a quick and dirty fence around the field. The Elder declared it might be a few years until they used that ground again.

  Astrid tried to help, but was eventually defeated by Tarkon and Moxy, who urged her to rest while she healed. She compromised by working with a small group of villagers who cleaned up and arranged the body armor and weapons salvaged from the bodies. The equipment was too valuable to bury.

  It was also hard work convincing the bandits to leave the weapons and armor for the villagers. The compromise was that anyone who wanted the items would have to stay behind to protect Bellford. Seventeen bandits volunteered immediately. The next argument was about how to erase the coins and daggers insignia of Jank’s company.

  Astrid and her group had just finished their work. The villagers hurried away when George and Tarkon came up. They were still uneasy around these rough people who had saved them.

  It was decided that twenty bandits would stay behind while Astrid rode back with the scout and George along with a few bandits from George’s tribe. George had mixed feelings that a few of his people wanted to stay behind with Sally’s folks.

  On the one hand, it was positive that they wanted to work together. On the other hand, George would be separated from people he was close to.

  He masked his sentiment with hard words. “Once bandits get a taste for the soft village life, it’s hard to pry them away.”

  “They’re doing honorable work here,” Tarkon said. “Probably for the first time in their lives.”

  To George, that was a backhanded compliment. He just glared in response.

  “Can I get off invalid duty now, guys?” Astrid said.

  Tarkon fixed her with his usual dour stare while George shook his head.

  “You can do what you want,” George said. “But if you’re smart, you’d take it easy and rebuild your strength. That water magic or whatever the hell it is you use doesn’t make you immortal, as far as I can tell. Just makes you ridiculously hard to kill.”

  Astrid cringed at the reference to her art. “It’s called the Well, and it is available to all who seek it with a pure heart.”

  “Whatever,” George replied. “Everything has its limits.”

  Astrid couldn’t argue with that.

  “Day’s almost over,” George said. “We need to rest up, regroup—make a plan and head out at dawn tomorrow.”

  “We have a hard ride ahead of us,” Tarkon said. “Jank’s mercenary force is no doubt in Keep 52 by now.”

  “I’d rather travel through the night,” Astrid said. She tried to mask the stabbing pain in her chest when she stood. It didn’t work.

  “I didn’t take you for a fool,” George said. “If you’re looking for me to convince you of what you need to do, I’m not the guy. You won’t be much use without some rest. That’s the truth. I don’t want to travel if everyone in my party isn’t fit to fight.”

  Astrid shot him an angry look. She knew he was right. “What can I say? You just found one of my flaws. I’m stubborn. You’re right. I surrender.” She sat back down.

  Several bandits came over and cleared the table.

  “Where are you taking that?” George asked.

  “Relax, boss,” one of the bandits said. Astrid recognized him as Alvin. “We got it all worked out. Didn’t even come to blows over it. When they come back, we’ll kill us some more and take their armor, too.”

  “You are a truly frightening man, Alvin,” Astrid said with no small amount of admiration.

  The big man grinned. “Not half as scary as you,” Alvin said.

  Astrid chuckled, then coughed up some chunks of dark red blood. “It’s OK,” Astrid said in response to lightly-masked looks of concern. “It’s old blood.”

  She didn’t see Gormer and Moxy come up. Moxy walked fast ahead of Gormer, who was obviously still very high. His eyes looked like brown pools in cups of blood.

  Astrid shook her head, and her jaw clenched. She had no idea how the magic he so misused didn’t kill him. He pulled up a chair, then rested his head on his folded arms over the table.

  “Food’s coming soon,” Gormer said. “This wood feels so nice.”

  Tarkon sneered at him and shook his head while Moxy sidled up to him.

  “That’s the second time you saved me,” she said.

  “All part of the fight,” he said.

  Some villagers brought over more long tables and put them end-to-end. They set out chairs, and bandits came over to sit. Sally joined them.

  “Must be forty chairs here,” Sally observed. “I guess some of the villagers don’t mind eating with us.”

  “Wait till they see our table manners,” Alvin said.

  “What manners?” another bandit said.

  “Exactly,” Sally replied. “Seriously. You’d think they’d be more grateful that we saved their asses.”

  “Yeah,” Gormer said. “Before their leader got killed, I saw what he had in mind. He had orders to kill them all and blame it all on Sally’s tribe.”

  “What!” Sally exclaimed. “You didn’t tell us earlier?”

  “I was resting,” Gormer said. “And you were out burying bodies.”

  “You were out wasting yourself with drugs,” Tarkon growled.

  “About that,” Moxy said, sitting across from Gormer. “I have something that should help you with the headaches.”

  “I like my opium,” Gormer said, lifting his bloody eyes.

  “Where the hell are you getting opium?” Tarkon asked.

  “I have a guy at Lake Bicaz,” he replied.

  “You mean you had a guy,” Tarkon replied. “None of us will ever get within ten miles of Lungu Fortress again.”

  “This guy brought so much of it back from the Great Salt Sea. He says he traveled all over the world. I thought he might tell me the best place for me to wander next,” Gormer said. “I’ll find a way.”

  “Yes,” Astrid replied. “You will. That’s what Moxy was saying. She has another way for you.”

  “Does it involve sex?” Gormer asked. “Because if that’s what she’s talking about… ”

  Moxy growled like a cat, and her claws extended from her fingertips. Some of the bandits stood up and backed away.

  “Easy, Moxy,” Astrid said, resting her hand on her arm.

  “If the asshole doesn’t want help…” Moxy growled.

  “He does,” Astrid said. “He just wants us to work for
it. Right, Gormer? Isn’t that what you do—Find people that actually give a shit about you and then do everything you can to make them regret it?”

  “Whatever,” Gormer replied, waving them off, before he laid his head down again.

  “I found some herbs and other plants near the bandit camp back east. I can make a tincture that will help him stay away from the opium. It will also help with the headaches and the nosebleeds when he uses his magic.”

  “Training, discipline, and proper intention can help him channel magical energy,” Astrid said. “Unfortunately, Gormer has no discipline and as for intention, he seems to do everything for the wrong reason.”

  Gormer lifted a hand and extended his middle finger without lifting his head.

  “At least I can help him stay away from the drugs,” Moxy said. “He’s too unstable when he’s high.”

  Gormer just giggled at the bandits, who sat down again upon seeing Moxy’s claws retract.

  More bandits came over, followed by a procession of villagers with a small wagon loaded down with food.

  The table filled up quickly as pots of beef with cabbage, carrots, and potatoes were placed on the table. Some of the bandits literally drooled on themselves as their eyes went wide. Villagers sat among the bandits looking a bit nervous.

  “I take it you don’t get much beef,” one of the villagers said.

  “We usually don’t kill your cows,” Alvin answered. “And when we steal it off the tribute, it’s usually more valuable to us in trade.”

  “Maybe I’ll stay behind and help guard the village if we get to eat beef,” a bandit said as he stood up and reached for a pot.

  Sally jumped up on the table, feet planted squarely between two steaming pots and slapped the bandit on the side of the head. “Don’t reach in there with your damn hands!” she exclaimed. “Show some damn self-control.”

  The slapped bandit made a comical pouty face and rubbed his smarting head. “Fighting and burying dead meat makes me hungry.”

  The villagers passed out plates and utensils and set down serving spoons by the pots. Sally walked up and down the table making sure nobody started a food riot.

  Astrid herself struggled against the urge to stuff food into her mouth with her bare hands. All the fighting, healing and drawing energy had her body drained. She almost groaned when Sally insisted on making a speech before they ate.