Drifter Mage

by PMF Johnson

  Deeb was pleased with the layout. "This will do very well."

  "Here's the setup," Arch said. "They'll sneak up on the cabin. Hard to tell from which way. You have to be ready for them and you must stay silent as possible when they are close. Once when you have a clear view, hit them with arrows and your fire spells."

  "No warning? Just strike at them?"

  Arch shrugged. "They've had their warnings again and again. They're attacking you anyway, without warning or mercy on their part. If you let them know you're here you lose even this tiny advantage. They'll find a different way to attack, when you are not prepared. And your wife and child are at risk, not just you."

  Grimly, Deeb nodded.

  "We'll do it," Mara said.

  "Use your imp to take on their own imp if it comes scouting, or as defense against any counter attacks -- magic spells they throw at you. You'll need the protection, I'm thinking. They will be casting fireballs."

  "What about you?"

  Arch nodded. "I'm going out after them. See if I can cut down one or two, make the fight a bit more even."

  "Alone?"

  "Yes, ma'am. I intend to be."

  Arch headed into the woods.

  Cautious did not begin to describe how he must act, going against the Owl. But taking one or more of them out of the fight was essential.

  As he drifted away from the pilgrims' position, he examined it critically. The eye passed over the spot, a non-descript lump of bushes back in the trees was all the area seemed, nothing to think about. Good.

  He headed into the deep forest, needing the greater freedom of movement gained by being afoot, the ability to be quieter and less noticeable. He eased around bushes, moving carefully to avoid the sound of cloth on twig. He found a spot beside a protruding hunk of granite where he would blend in. The cabin was slowly fading into the deeper darkness as night deepened. The river was beyond the cabin, the corral with the stock off to his right.

  There was no movement -- even the wind had died, leaving things strangely quiet. He could hear an animal -- a moose maybe, or a bear, rustling through the brush on the mountain above, but it remained unaware of him.

  #

  Rock gazed out over the valley, flexing his arms, his huge muscles rippling. The elven looked like a creature from another world, alien, untouched by mortal concerns. "Arch? I know the name."

  "Everyone knows his name." Shef's voice had a harsh bite. "I'm thinking she was just saying it. Trying to frighten us. He ain't here. Of course, I ain't a-frighted. Not by one guy alone."

  But Shef shook his head. "He's awful slick. They say he's the strongest mage ever."

  Rock glowered at him but Shef only gave a sort of mean smile in response. "Not counting Rock, a' course. Our Rock Gul could out-duel him, sure."

  Rock's wings fluttered wide. "You think you could?"

  Shef made a dismissive gesture. "Can't imagine why I'd have to. I got no quarrel with the man. Don't intend to start one, 'less he starts one first. I'm thinking it's time to reassess. Bunch of pilgrims is one thing. A team of folks with Arch Compher among them? What's the payoff? Makes me remember how much I enjoyed the city of Holy Sa, last time I was there. They got folks digging raw magic out of the ground, who never fret about a thing, never look over their shoulders. Fat pickings up there. Real plum."

  Kin Re growled. "That woman is the one who hit me." He fingers the mark on his face, still visible all this time later. "Got to have been her. I know it. Gonna pay her back if it's the last thing I do."

  The Preacher said nothing. If he was the head of the gang, he intended to lead them in the direction they were already intending. Shef had had enough, that was obvious. Dunshil, he could not read her intentions clearly.

  But his cousin Kin Re was spoiling for a fight after the woman had marked him, and even more, after they had killed his brother Tarn.

  Ulf surely felt the same way. He liked killing.

  The Preacher wanted Arch Compher dead too, but he would be just as happy if Rock did it. No hurry for him to try, Rock might just do it.

  Shef shook his head. "We got two gone already, he kilt. Tarn Re is dead, Benn Ku never came back, you know the guy done for him. Nothing in our pockets from all this, either. Why am I doing this, I gotta ask myself. Why are any of us?"

  He looked over at his brother, but Ulf was looking off into space somewhere.

  Dunshil hissed. "T, t. Owl, you spotted him. Where was he?"

  "Up in the woods," the Owl answered, waving uphill. "They were moving through."

  "Off to Plover town?" Kin Re asked.

  "Seems likely to me."

  "Got their stuff here," Ulf answered that. "Folks like that'll want their stuff. They'll be back. Them're planters."

  "I think they're back at that house," Rock said. "We'll go check that out." He stared at Shef. "As a group."

  "That's always been our system," the Preacher said, smiling. "All together."

  They mounted up, Ulf with swift, nervous moves, Shef with an easy grin.

  Kin Re mounted more slowly. "They're what, half an hourglass away?"

  Shef shrugged. "Twice that, anyway. A few thousand paces, easy. Maybe longer, since it's night."

  "You thinking we'll tackle him at night?" Kin Re asked.

  Shef parsed his lips judiciously. "Oh, he's all for Rock. I wouldn't come between the two of them. Rock is primed for the guy. Tougher, and hungry for it. I figure to take a lesson, here."

  Rock acted like he did not hear this. Shef didn't quite chuckle. Rock did not respect him, but Ulf now -- even Rock remained cautious around Shef's brother. Shef had his brother on his side that much, anyway.

  "Then we'll hit 'em at dawn," the Preacher said.

  A couple of the others nodded. They headed out downslope to find their positions, no words exchanged during the ride -- men together almost by chance, to do a brutal business, their thoughts sour with suspicion about each other, sour about their own lives.

  The Preacher had seen a spot, a small dell in the woods, where they could await the dawn, a place down by the river in the thickets, where no one was likely to chance on them. They dismounted there, securing their horses with tight knots. Dunshil ordered her imp to build them a small fire, but no one stood near it to warm themselves.

  Ulf flipped his knife mumblety-peg into the ground, over and over. Rock stood near a tree, going into one of those mysterious trances the elven had, communing with whatever powers might be out there for him. Kin Re kept the fire going, his fingers tapping nervously the while. The Owl held a little apart from the others. If he too meditated, no one could tell.

  Shef sat off on his own, away from the others. No one paid him any attention. They never did. He made a sour face. This was not a place he wanted to be. Rock, the Preacher, this was all for them. And they were making enemies and playing against powers he was not happy about opposing. So when he heard the quiet, almost whispered words, his first instinct was to listen.

  "Don't look around, I'm armed."

  "I won't."

  "This is Arch Compher, Shef. I remember you from years back. I'm gonna start whittling down this crew, but I wanted to give you a chance to get out first. I remember you always had a good time, Shef. Had some fun in life. Well, there ain't no fun for you out here I'm thinking, so if you were to take off you wouldn't be missing anything you cared about. Not anything at all."

  "That's true enough," Shef said. "Nothing here for me."

  "So you're leaving?"

  "You give me the chance, I'll be shut of this place by midnight."

  "I'll give you that long, Shef, no more. It's going to be deadly out here."

  Shef nodded. "Good luck to you."

  "Choose well," Arch said. Then he was gone.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Arch ghosted away through the brush. He would give Shef most of the night. No guarantee the man would do as he said, of course, but either way he wouldn't tell the others. If Rock thought Shef was communicating with Arc
h, Rock would kill the man out of hand and Shef knew it. Back down on the Spice Road, years ago, Arch had known Shef as a small-time grifter and mule, not looking to make a name, nothing cruel or brutal about him that Arch ever heard. So he just might go.

  Back where he had tied up the gelding, Arch stopped to chew over what to do next. The Preacher and them, they were a pretty hotheaded crew. Chances were they would charge the cabin straight away, without studying the situation first. If they did, and if Deeb would attack without warning, then Arch and the pilgrims just might deliver a death blow to their enemies. Deeb was not all that likely to do so, however. Civilized people would rarely think of doing such a thing.

  But Mara, maybe -- seeing her family endangered, after her experiences with these men -- time and again they had attacked unprovoked. She might cast her fire at them. He smiled, thinking how she smashed that one fellow's face in when he came after her family. A bit of a she-bear, she could be.

  Arch thought over the possible scenarios. The thugs had closed in on them and possessed the advantage in numbers. They had taken some blows and that would make them ornery. They would come in fighting, dirty and evil. And the Owl would be with them, silent as a spook, with that preternatural alertness for any sound or movement.

  Arch did not think there was a good chance of attacking the camp of the thugs, so he slowly headed back to the area of the cabin, listening the while, and keeping his horse to the loamier spots where its hooves would make less noise.

  He let his horse free in the little corral with the rest of the stock, then eased over to a low rise to the east where he would have a clean shot across the bare spaces around the cabin. He settled down to watch.

  Nothing moved, and only the faintest whisper of water over rock indicated where the river flowed. The merest breath of a breeze stirred the trees, and some small prowling creature worked its way through the underbrush.

  His hands were damp with sweat -- he dried them on his sleeves, then raised his staff again.

  Then...a flicker of movement. By the far side of the house, something stirred. The thugs' imp? Prostrate on the ground, he eased his staff into position, aiming it at the area of movement. He could not fire until he could confirm who it was, but he was ready. Inside the cabin, a faint, orange glow appeared. Magic.

  Someone had gone inside to investigate. Where were the others?

  He took a wider view to encompass the whole area and spot any movement. The hill, the river, the trees. There. He had thought they would come down off the mountain from the east in a charge. Instead, a line of them rode horseback up from the copse of woods to the south, this side of the river, dark against the dark background.

  The one in the cabin -- the Owl, likely -- had disappeared again.

  He fervently hoped the Partens were awake and paying attention. The thugs were very hard to see, spread out and nearly silent. He brought his staff around, took care to sight it best as he could on one of the foes, calculating height, distance and lead for the distance. It was a far reach for a fireball. He muttered the trigger word.

  A seed of orange light flashed across the clearing and exploded in a roar of flame. Someone screamed, then a flurry of hooves thundered as the riders leaped forward to the attack.

  Immediately, a seed of light shot from the Partens' nest, and a second fireball exploded with a thump among the enemy. One of them shouted, an inarticulate cry, then swore.

  Arch felt the surge of confidence that came from using elemental magic and smelled the burnt scent of lightning.

  He loosed another fire seed at them, then pitched himself to the right to avoid any counter spells. He came up ready, staying low, but the enemy had not fired in reply. They had dived for cover themselves, and were out of sight.

  Then a fireball exploded where Arch had been. It faded to dying flickers in the underbrush, and a few dark oily wisps drifted away.

  Another fireball exploded in the woods, to one side of where the Partens hunkered down. So they had not located the spot where the pilgrims were holed up. Good.

  Arch withdrew, fearing another fireball -- several of the enemy were war mages and could loose a whole series of such attacks.

  He had felt the fierce heat of the last one a bit too close. He shifted further to his right, then forward and down the hill to a small copse of young aspen and brush, where he awaited further developments.

  As his eyes adjusted to the darkness after the flashes of the fireballs, he could discern a body in the meadow, lying at an awkward angle.

  The thugs' advance had been halted and broken up by the crossfire. Now they were down in the grass, certain to be creeping forth on the hunt for the Partens and Arch himself.

  Had any more of the thugs been injured than the one visible? Was the man out there done for or merely roughed up, still dangerous?

  Carefully, Arch eased back -- the copse of trees offered a strong position but little protection.

  The sky was lightening before dawn. He wondered if the victim out there was Rock, or maybe Ulf. That could make all the difference, but Arch thought it unlikely. He continued through the woods, moving right, then downhill to the river.

  He spotted tracks indicating a couple of the thugs had splashed through the water and taken to the trees on the far side. Upstream, a tree had fallen across, partially blocking the current and creating a small marsh. The trunks of the trees gleamed pale in the rising light -- it was more open ground here.

  Someone in the Partens' position shot a fire seed, which exploded in the night. Instantly three mages cast fireballs in reply, a triangle of fireballs that exploded over the source of the fire seed with a triple concussion.

  Arch cussed, hoped the Partens' imp had protected them. He located where the thugs' magic had come from and launched a spell at the starting point of the closest fire seed, then swung his staff around and sent another at the spot where a second seed had fired.

  He dove aside, just as a fireball from the third location blasted where he had been. He sent a cold spell back in reply -- a blue dot, harder to follow in the darkness, though not as deadly. It flared slowly and silently where he had aimed, then faded into darkness. No will magic had been launched -- the Owl and Rock had not seen anyone clearly enough to attempt such a spell.

  He did not wait to see the result of his own casting, but slipped off through the undergrowth, headed for the small marsh. Where the ground grew damp he turned and skirted the edge of the slough, working his way by the feel of the damper ground under his feet, until he reached a more open area and paused.

  The pale trunks of the trees offered some cover so he continued on at a low crouch, coming to a halt when he heard voices. Someone was cursing steadily.

  He went on after they turned away, but as he reached the far end of the open area, a soft log collapsed under his foot and his leg plunked into the water.

  A fire seed streaked out at him. He dove headfirst between a pair of bushes in the instant before it exploded with a deep boom, lighting the area.

  Darkness returned. He waited, hearing...silence.

  The acrid scent of the magic drifted away, after which he could smell the honeysuckle bushes on either side -- he had found a natural depression, so he was protected by earthen bulwarks on three sides.

  He listened for sounds and looked for any visual clues to his enemies' location.

  Then came the rattling of hooves -- someone leaving, more than one. But how many? Were any lying back in ambush, waiting for him to reveal himself?

  Well, he was in no hurry to move, no hurry at all. Time crept on. The bird whistles rose in intensity as dawn came, though the sun remained behind the hills. Clouds passed across the sky.

  At last he moved out to his left, slow and cautious, pausing to listen then moving again. Silence. Then at a far distance another horseman headed off, the trample of the horse dying away.

  Out in the open beyond the cabin he saw a lump in the grass. Someone down? He drifted forward with great wariness, since the Pa
rtens would not expect him to be here. Taking his time, he eased through the trees, covering the whole area until he ended up in the spot the Partens had fought from. To his consternation, no one was there.

  Where had the pilgrims gone? And had they fled or been captured?

  Arch studied the bed of leaves, the brush, the aspen -- no bodies, no pooled blood, nothing left behind.

  He backed off, intending to study the situation more when the sun cleared the hills and gave more light. It was still basically night. He moved out into the open area around the cabin where the horse waited and a body lay.

  Cautiously, he used the butt of his staff to turn the dead man face to the sky. He recognized Kin Re, scorched by fire and covered in blood -- feathered by one of Galle's arrows through his chest.

  Arch headed back into the woods. He had a short while until full sunup, when he could track the thugs. He would rest for a short while. He was tired. Dead tired. And much depended on him.

  If Rock and them had captured the Partens, they would have killed Deeb right off and let his body lie where it fell. Unless...what if they still thought the Partens had raw magic? Then they might haul him along, to torture later to get the whereabouts of the magic.

  Some of them, Ulf and the Preacher, would never believe there was no raw magic. They HAD to believe. And the Menesketh brothers were still around, surely, and the Owl.

  #

  Deeb thought faster and harder than ever in his life. Once the trio of fireballs had exploded it was obvious to all where he and his family lay. The thugs were out there, closing, and that meant he had to get his wife and child away from the danger.

  When he explained this to Mara and Galle in a low tone, Galle had a solution right away. "Pa, there's a low gully going back up the slope. We can use that to get away."

  Deeb reviewed the gully. It was a low wash made by a trickle of water through a course of stones, but it did offer a way out without being detected.

  "It'll do. Now Galle, I'm giving you Lok to protect you. Head up through the trees to that open spot at the top of the hill east of the cabin. Where the bald knob of rock stands. You remember the spot? I'll meet you there."