Ragged Heroes: An Epic Fantasy Collection

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Ragged Heroes: An Epic Fantasy Collection Page 63

by Andy Peloquin


  “Yes, what is the meaning of this interruption? Speak up, boy!” Wizard Tanis scowled and returned to eating.

  Ramos swallowed then pointed at the adept-imminent. “He has poisoned the food. I know. I have the rats to prove it!” Ramos grabbed Cara’s hand with the bag and shook it at the wizards. “He poisoned them.”

  “You fed our food to the rats?” a voice said.

  “No, they ate the garbage out back. I sprinkled some white dust on the garbage. I found it in his clothes.” Ramos said, his finger shaking with anxiety.

  Madrid smiled back at him, but his eyes were cold, black orbs. “I think the boy is confused. You really should not push him so hard in his lessons.” Madrid picked up a plate and piled it high with food and then took a bite, his smile widening when Ramos’s mouth opened in shock. Madrid waved a fork at the wizards, who had returned to their meals. “My compliments to the head cook. These are the best biscuits I have had in quite some time.”

  “If you are quite finished, Ramos, I suggest you return to your quarters, and, for god’s sake, put some shoes on.” Wizard Telling waved them out of the room. Flushing with embarrassment over his second shaming episode in less than an hour, Ramos turned his back on the room. A soft chuckle reached his ears. He glanced back at the wizard adept, who grinned at his defeat.

  Ramos left the chambers with Cara trailing in his wake. She pulled the doors closed behind them. Cara paused, staring at her hand clutching the bag of dead rats, a perplexed expression on her face.

  “If the food wasn’t poisoned, why did he want to carry up the tray?” said Ramos, frowning. “Maybe we got there too quickly and interrupted, although he had all the time he needed to poison that food.”

  “How do you know it was poison that killed the rats?” said Cara. She walked away down the corridor with Ramos at her heels. Ramos puzzled over the answer to her question all the way back to the adept wing.

  “If it wasn’t poison, why did they die? Or was it poison that only works on rats?” said Ramos.

  “Why did you think it was poison in the first place? Has he killed someone else with it?”

  “No.”

  “Did he threaten to kill someone?”

  “No.”

  Cara marched along in silence until they reached the entrance to his quarters.

  She stopped outside his door and put her fisted hands on her hips, the rat-filled bag swinging. Her face was as dark as a thundercloud and flashed with anger. “You just had me race into a room full of wizards and accuse their apprentice of a crime with no proof?”

  Ramos blushed again. “He is not what he seems. He arrived on a dragon late yesterday.”

  “You saw him on the dragon?”

  “No, I saw him in his room. The boy on the dragon went into his room.”

  “You saw him enter the room?”

  “No.”

  “Then how do you know it was him?” She stamped her foot with impatience.

  Ramos could feel the blush rising again. “I felt that I was right.”

  She stared at him, her mouth open in disbelief. She shoved the bag of rats at him, glaring. “I have had enough of this. You need solid proof, Ramos, before you go accusing people. Feelings are not enough.” She turned and left him, standing with his mouth agape and ready to argue his point, except he found his words failing him, as self doubt stalled his tongue.

  As Cara walked away, he whispered to her retreating back, “Thank you for your honesty. I feel that, too. Time will prove that I am right. I just hope it isn’t too late.” Ramos opened his door and entered his room, sinking down onto his cot to think.

  Chapter 6

  Elemental Attack

  Castle Ionia, in the province of Tyr, was perched on the apex of seven hills which made up the city of Ionia. Built over the centuries, the castle was home to L’Ordre du Coeur Sacré, an order of elemental healers. Harnessing the elements of magic, the women came from every province in Gaia to train as healers. Thus, every province incorporated a healer into each its populated centers as a cherished part of the community. Many of these women sat on the elders councils, assisting with the governing of the villages, towns, and cities.

  Marion was one such young woman. Eighteen years of age and fresh out of school, she was unprepared for was the extent to which her skills would be needed. She had set out to return to her native province of Bastion, eager to settle into the community and teach at the elemental school located at the tip of the extinct volcano, which was the tallest land feature in all of Bastion.

  She made the journey back to the town of Melina in the company of a cloth merchant. Rumours circulated with every passing caravan along the road known as the Citrus Route about a terrible plague that was sweeping the town. People claimed to see creatures roaming the streets at night that were not native to Bastion. They reported horrible burns and blisters as a result of contact with the creatures and many, many deaths. Some believed it to be a curse unleashed on the people due to a lack of piety to the old gods, but others blamed their closest neighbours in the provinces of Fjord and Samos, believing it to be a creature released with one simple purpose: to wipe out Bastion.

  The healers had so far been stumped as to the cause of the blisters or how to stop their spread. Contagious, they spread rapidly through every infected household, infecting both man and beast. The townsfolk of Melina had taken to burning the homes of the infected, complete with the occupants. At the outset of the plague, the children were isolated from their sick parents and transported like chickens in caged wagons to the summit of Melina. As there was only one road to the summit, they were isolated from the town and the anarchy occurring below.

  It was late in the day when the caravan that carried Marion toward Melina pushed through the last dense forest screening Melina from view. As they spilled out of the verdant jungle, the town lay before them, undulating over the seven hills that ringed the volcano. The air above the town shimmered in the late-day rays of the sun, but the shimmer was not from humidity but from smoke. Fires burned all over the town so that it was impossible to separate one hill from another. A captain of the guard of Melina rode forward at their approach, trailed by a dozen heavily armed men. Marion heeled her horse forward and rode out to meet the captain, lowering her hood in greeting, as was the custom.

  “What is this?” said Marion, her words sharp with command. “Who is behind this foul act?”

  The captain eyed her healer’s robes and nodded. “My lady, the town is besieged by a black plague. The command has been given by the council to burn the infected houses to halt the spread. We are to stop all who approach from entering the city for fear of spreading the disease. Melina has been quarantined.”

  “Why were the healers not called?”

  “They were, milady. They were the first to fall. It is a curse, milady. The healers died trying to treat the infected. There are none left.”

  The shock of this information shuddered through Marion. Her sisters were all dead? Her eyes searched the smoke, seeking an answer in the twisted forms that curled from the burning homes. “None have survived?”

  The captain shook his head.

  “I must speak to someone in charge. I need more information about this plague. Who has survived?”

  The captain glanced back at his men, whose mounts shifted nervously under their tightened reins, before replying to her question.

  “The council has taken up residence on an estate outside of the city. They are monitoring the plague’s spread from there. No one is allowed in and no one is allowed out, of Melina. The children were being moved to the Citadel healers school up until the time the council closed the town.”

  Marion’s eyes rose to the shining dome of the bell tower of the school, glinting with reflected sunlight. It rode a cloud of smoke that obscured the stone structure at its base.

  The merchant train driver, who Marion had not noticed until he spoke, said, “I will not enter that town with this caravan. You can stay with the guard,
milady, or travel on with us, but we make for the border with Samos.”

  “I will stay with the captain. My duty is to help Melina, if I can be of service.”

  “As you wish, milady.” He nodded to the guards then returned to his companions and turned to the east to skirt around the doomed town.

  “Lead on, captain. I wish to meet with the council.”

  The captain took a road that looped to the west of Melina, keeping well away from the burning town. Marion rode alongside the captain, so that she could question him further. “So when did the plague begin?”

  “About a month ago. At first the people went to see the healers as normal, lining up at their clinics to be assessed. Soon the lineups to see a healer stretched out the door and down the street. As people became progressively sicker, they were being carried to the healer on stretchers. Many died in the street waiting to see a healer.

  “When the rumours began about the healer not being able to cure the illness, the people turned violent. No one wanted to be near someone sick and those in the street became targets of attacks by vigilantes who believed that their inability to be cured of the sickness was proof of their lack of faith in the old gods. When the healers themselves came down ill, the town convulsed and the healers were the first to burn inside their very clinics. Anarchy descended and neighbour turned on neighbour.

  “We do not enter the town. We keep all who are inside within its walls. Those that try to leave, we shoot. No one is allowed to enter. To enter is to die.”

  Marion let the shock of the words echo through her chest, settling into her mind like the stilling of a gong. “How could the town succumb to this so quickly? Are all the people inside carriers? Are they all infected?”

  The captain shrugged. “No one knows. There is no way to tell.”

  Marion frowned. “I heard rumours of a creature that might have started the plague. Do you know of what I speak?”

  “There were rumours of a creature, yes. I have never seen it. I have never witnessed its presence outside the walls of the town, and neither have my men.” He jerked his head to indicate the men riding along side and behind them. “If the creatures exist, they are within the walls.”

  “Is there anyone outside the walls that came in contact with a creature or witnessed it?”

  “I do not think so, milady, but the council may know better. Look, there is the hacienda.” The captain pointed out an earth-coloured building set in a cluster of pines. A few minutes later, they rode through the gates and up to the manor house. The front door opened and a portly man stepped out onto the wooden porch, a mayoral badge of office pinned to his vest. Marion and the captain dismounted then approached the mayor.

  “Greetings, mayor. I am Marion, a healer of L’Ordre du Coeur Sacré. The good captain has escorted me to you with ill tidings for the town of Melina. I have come to help. Are things truly as grave as reported?”

  “Come, step inside, milady.” The mayor gestured for Marion to precede him inside then led her to a parlour just inside the door. Once she was comfortably seated, he answered her question. “It is worse than you have been told. Madness has gripped all with in Melina’s walls. The town is cursed.” He reached for a pitcher of water and poured two glasses, handing one to Marion.

  “There must be something that can be done. How did it begin?”

  “There were reports of a creature, which we believe to have been an elemental with physical form. The creature appeared in the middle of the night and by morning a third of the population was infected. A child was the first to get sick, and it quickly spread to the adult population. But here is the strange thing. The children recover from the infection, but the adults do not.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “The only bodies we found were adults. The children became very ill, but not one died. The healers wanted to see children only, to study why they were able to recover. That is why they were having the children sent to the peak, to study why they recovered, but before they could formulate any conclusions, they were killed. We had to withdraw from Melina. The infected adults reacted in a feral way, as though they were reverting to beastly version of their true selves.”

  “How are the children able to cope in that environment? Are they still on the Citadel?”

  “We do not know. Perhaps they are no longer living. We cannot get close enough to tell.”

  “Well, someone has to go in. We can’t sit here and watch the town tear itself apart.” Marion glared at the mayor, seething inside at his cowardice. “These are your people!”

  “They were my people. The people I knew no longer live.” The mayor stood and walked over to a window that looked out on the town, smoke rising from its midst. “There is one person I know of who still lives, within Melina’s walls.”

  “Who is that?” said Marion, her voice sharp.

  “My niece, Cherise. She is eight.” His voice broke and his chin sank onto his chest. “She was on the last wagon to the school at the summit.”

  Marion stared at the mayor’s shaking back, and her voice softened. “We will recover her, mayor. Tell me how I can find Cherise.”

  Chapter 7

  Pearls of Wisdom

  It took most of the night to convince the mayor that Marion was the best person to enter the condemned town, but by dawn and after many cups of tea, he agreed to her plan.

  “You are sure this will work, Marion?” asked the mayor, his brows furrowed with anxiety.

  “Elementals don’t just appear. They are creatures of magic. For magic to awaken in such a powerful and uncontrolled way there must have been a draw. Something has occurred in Melina that has concentrated the elemental magic in this one spot. I must go to the location of the first sighting. There is a clue there that only I or my sisters can detect.” She held up her hand to stop his diatribe of concerns. She had heard them over and over throughout the night. “Stop. We have agreed. It is time for me to go.”

  “You must rest first. You do not understand what you are walking into.”

  Marion shook her head. “There is no time. I am leaving.” She rose to her feet and swayed slightly. She was tired, no doubt, but she was drawn to the city. She could sense the elemental magic at work, and it was an itch that needed to be scratched. “Thank you for your hospitality. I will bring your niece to you if she lives.”

  “Thank you, Marion. May the gods bless you.” He clasped her hands briefly then let her go.

  Marion nodded and walked out the door to the front porch where a guard waited to escort her to the only accessible entrance to the town. She climbed into her saddle and took up her reins, and, with a final wave of farewell, followed the guard out of the gate she had ridden through twelve short hours earlier.

  They took a path that wound around one of the low hills, the village invisible except for the curl of smoke visible through the tall forest canopy. The trail was narrow forcing them to ride single file. The guard led her past a lookout tower. As they passed underneath it, a series of bird calls echoed through the woods. Her guard whistled back, and they carried on in peace. Marion shivered, feeling the eyes of the watchers, but when they passed out of range and she relaxed.

  “When we reach the next guard tower, I leave you to go on alone. Remember, keep to the wall and you will come to a green door. Knock three times, and it will be opened for you from within. Once inside, you will not be allowed to leave. The road in front of you leads to the Citadel. The pink cottage at the base of the mountain was where the first elemental was reported to have been sighted. You will be on your own. Even the guards do not patrol any longer.”

  “I understand.” Marion rode behind the guard, and a few minutes later the second tower came into view. As they rode abreast of it, the guard halted.

  “Good luck. I pray you can help the town. May the gods protect you.” He saluted and then turned his horse around and rode away. She walked her horse in the shadow of the wall then pulled her mare to a halt at a green door. Marion pulled up her
hood then bent over and knocked sharply on the wood. She heard the rasp and clunk of bars being pulled out of sockets.

  “Ride on, milady. Do not be caught on the streets. You have a narrow window while the city sleeps, but soon it will wake and the screaming will start. You do not want to be caught in the open when those who are possessed awake. Take this,” he shoved a staff with a long, sharpened metal tip into her hand. “Godspeed.” Then, the door opened wide enough for her to ride through before it slammed closed.

  Marion heeled her mare and clattered down the cobblestone street into town, heading straight as an arrow toward the Citadel she could see rising on the far side of Melina. The road to its top curved back and forth, a pale ribbon against the darker stone. Torches burned along the road, clearly visible in the shadow of the mountain despite the sun rising at its back.

  The town was silent except for the occasional rustle. A breeze wafted smoke across her path, obscuring her view of her goal. When it cleared, two men stood in the middle of the road. At least she thought they were men. They were hunchbacked and bald headed with their clothing hanging in tatters. They carried torches, and the flickering firelight washed over arms covered in festering sores. Marion’s mare snorted and tossed her head, nervous of the pair. They smelled of death, and Marion suppressed a shiver.

  “Move aside.” Her voice rang out strong and clear, masking her fear. She lowered the staff and spoke a few words. The spear glowed, magic dancing on the tip. The men grunted and ran at her, their gait a loping thing reminiscent of a bear. Marion heeled her horse and charged the men, swinging her spear to touch the right man on the shoulder. He howled and fell to the side, body jerking as a blue flame encased his body. It began to smoke and sank into the stones, a deflating sack of putrid flesh.

  The second man grabbed Marion’s stirrup and reached up to pull her from the saddle, but her mare was having none of it and reached back with her teeth, clamping them onto the attackers arm. It ripped away, and the jerking motion dislodged his other hand as he stumbled and fell. Marion raced on toward the pink house, not pausing to look behind her in case others came to investigate the disturbance. Now that she was at a full run, her spooked mare refused to slow and Marion let her have her head. She also had no wish to linger in the diseased streets.

 

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