Rogue Mage: Age Of Magic - A Kurtherian Gambit Series (Path of Heroes Book 1)

by Brandon Barr

  His best estimate was twenty to twenty-five raiders plus the mage, Titannus. Whatever the actual number was, he and his men slaughtered thirty families in their sleep.

  Percy tapped his boot against the spyglass. “Where are the bodies?” asked Percy with a note of suspicion.

  Justen frowned at the question. “We buried them.”

  “Where?”

  “In the woods where they died.”

  Percy’s hard gaze passed over the entire Heroes Brigade. Justen glared back.

  “How many of you were there for the fight?” asked Percy.

  Justen cocked an eyebrow. “Are you questioning our report?”

  “It’s a simple answer, Justen. Who in the Heroes Brigade was there?”

  Justen felt the unease in the air from the seven men standing behind him. Like him, they were caught off guard by the question and the accusing tone. Percy had been antagonistic in the past, but never like this.

  Justen couldn’t bare the silence any longer. “Payetta and I were the only ones there.”

  “Thank you,” said Percy. “Such a difficult answer to a simple question. But now I have another—how did two of you bring down five armed men? I would think you’d have gone for help before going against such suicidal odds.”

  Justen breathed uneasily. He didn’t dare reveal the truth about his wife—there was no telling how Meadowlanders would react. And even beyond them, if word ever got out and made its way to one of Zarith Smith’s mages, he felt certain they would come for her—either to kill her or take her back with them alive.

  “They were in two groups when we came upon them,” said Justen. “We surprised three of them and my arrow brought down one before we were forced to fight with swords. The other group of two found us.”

  Percy nodded slowly, raising his hand to his chin as if considering something. “I admire your courage. I’m sure it was a terrifying experience, especially as husband and wife. I can’t imagine the fear each of you must have felt for the other’s life.”

  “We aren’t like you,” Payetta inserted herself with a coldness that could have frozen summer itself. “We’ve devoted our lives to stopping Titannus and protecting the innocent. Fear is about as useful as your mouth. It’s a distraction from dealing with the real problem, of which you are a big pig-headed part.”

  Justen gave Payetta a gentle shut-up-and-let-me-talk pat on the back.

  “On the contrary,” said Percy. “I suspect you are the problem. What was it you wanted us to do to Titannus last year? Do you remember? You and Justen came into town after claiming to kill two of the mage’s men, and you tried to rally some kind of reprisal attack on his fort up in the mountains. I’m wondering if this is more of the same. Who actually saw the bodies of these five men?”

  Again Percy’s eyes roved over the Heroes Brigade.

  “Payetta and I buried them,” responded Justen in a low voice that hid none of his anger.

  “As I thought,” said Percy. “Five bodies in one day? Did you go back to get shovels and forget to get help?”

  The question lingered in the air for just a moment, then Percy continued, “I think, Mayor, we should have a look at these bodies, otherwise we may find that these items they’ve brought are nothing more than a collection of junk they’ve gathered over the years. I’ve heard how often they frequent the old ruin sites dotting our valley. Clearly, this spyglass originated there, one way or another.” He tapped it with his toe again for emphasis and it rolled to a stop at Justen’s boots.

  Justen wanted to smack Percy across his smug face. There was no way around it now. If they showed them the bodies, then Payetta’s magic would be revealed. Shovels would be useless for getting at them, for the men were bound up in the roots of the trees. If they attempted to dig them out they’d hit the roots and be proven guilty under Percy’s accusation. The only way they could prove themselves true would be for Payetta to raise the bodies from the ground.

  “Bring a shovel then,” replied Justen evenly, hoping to call Percy’s bluff.

  “That’s right,” added Payetta, “bring a shovel and prepare to kiss our asses, you ungrateful bastard.”

  Percy put his hands up, as if trying to calm the situation. “I’ll gladly apologize if I’m wrong, but it’s been my experience that big bold words are more often used to prop up charades than to tell truths. But I’ll withhold my judgment until I see these dead men for myself.” He scanned the crowd. “Who wants to come?”

  “Just you and the mayor,” said Justen. “No one else.”

  The mayor cleared his throat. “And why is that, Justen?”

  Justen folded his arms, angry that he and Payetta were being made out to be some sort of criminals. His determination to protect Payetta won out over his desire to put Percy’s accusations to rest. All it would take is a little demonstration from Payetta here in the street, and they’d understand why two versus five was not such a feat. Nor burying the bodies.

  “I can’t tell you until we arrive there,” Justen finally answered.

  A stare-off between him, Payetta and Mayor Brundig created a foul silence in the street.

  “You’ll tell me now,” said the mayor, “or I’ll banish you from the Meadowlands for treachery and disband your Heroes Brigade.”

  Payetta looked about ready to explode. Justen put a hand on her shoulder in what he knew was a mostly futile gesture, but he had to try.

  Justen spoke quickly, “It seems you lied to us, Mayor Brundig. Apparently you do use force to get what you want.” He glanced at Percy. “I promise you this, Payetta and I will stay out of Hargstead, but as long as we have breath in our lungs, we’re here for the farmers. Ask them if they’d sleep as soundly at night with us gone?”

  The mayor’s face flushed red. “As of right now, the Heroes Brigade is under orders to cease any activity until further notice. If these two are seen anywhere on the meadows or in the surrounding woods, put them under arrest. Do you understand, Percy?”

  A triumphant glint shined in the captain’s eye. “Perfectly, sir.”

  The look on Percy’s face almost put Justen’s fists over the edge.

  His wife was not so self-controlled.

  One quick step and her long arm struck the captain. The blow rocked him sideways.

  “You dog of a woman,” growled Percy, gripping the side of his face.

  “You’re the bitch,” said Payetta. “Scared of five guys. Can’t bury bodies fast. Frightened to come out to see what a fool you are because you think Justen and I will do something to you. My man’s junk must dwarf your little pecker, you beady-eyed, pig-faced bastard.”

  Justen’s neck burned red hot. Why did she have to bring his manhood into this? It never ceased to shock him what could come out of her pretty lips. Her anger could burn down a forest when it blazed hot.

  Gently he took her hand. “Come on. This place reeks of ungratefulness.”

  Justen turned for the gate, the Heroes Brigade in tow. The only sound disrupting the silence was Captain Percy’s yelp of pain.

  “Payetta…what did you do?” whispered Justen.

  A smirk broke through Payetta’s rigid face. “A little bee sting. Just to make the piggy squeal.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Mayor Brundig circled the small table where Captain Percy sat, cutting his fingernails with a small knife. He wasn’t pleased with his own performance in the street. As much as Payetta had riled him over the years—and Justen to a much lesser degree—they hadn’t displayed anything that amounted to the treachery of which he’d accused them.

  Percy was of a different opinion, and the captain’s tone had influenced his own response. The mayor paused beside the chair opposite Percy and stared hard at a painting of his father, the first mayor of North and South Meadows.

  “In the event that the two troublemakers weren’t lying, what would we do if say twenty or thirty armed men descended on us? Or what about fifty?”

  “I hardly think Titannus’s fort in the Upper
Reaches could support fifty men. Food is scarce at that elevation, not to mention ill-suited for growing much. He and his men are hardly our concern, it’s the ravers and brutals that cause us trouble.”

  “What if his master Zarith got involved?”

  Percy looked up from his nail work and set his knife on the table. “You’ve heard the reports from up north. The villages he’s attacking are small, a quarter of our size or less. Like the mountain communities they wiped out four years back, they attack the weak and keep their distance from the strong.”

  “Just as well, I want us to be vigilant,” said Mayor Brundig. “A watchman should be posted this month. And if we can spare it, a night patrol.

  Percy shrugged and gave a polite nod. “As you know, Mayor, we have protocols in place should a sizeable attack fall upon us. The farmers can take up arms from our supplies in the armory. A ready arsenal with bows and arrows for those assigned to the walls, swords for the rest. The bell tower to call out the warning.”

  “Do you have any idea what a mage can do?” asked the mayor.

  Percy cocked an eyebrow. “They’re dangerous of course if the stories are as true as they’re told. But a mage must be protected. He’s only one man and can only perform his magic on a few. We have the numbers here in the Meadowland to overcome any attack from Titannus or any of Zarith’s mages.” Percy stood, “If you’ll excuse me, Mayor, I need to instruct the men on our new policy regarding Payetta and Justen.”

  “Yes…about that. I think I was hasty in my banishing them. They should at least be given the chance to explain themselves about the bodies, if they exist or not.”

  Percy’s lips tightened. “They’re both liars and are keeping something secret. That’s been clear throughout the last four years. Again and again, their stories haven’t added up. I finally called them on it today.”

  The mayor frowned. “Yes, but I want to give them a chance to come clean. Perhaps we can discover why they were so reticent to let us inspect the bodies, or whatever it is they’re keeping hushed up.”

  “I think it’s obvious,” said Percy, snatching his knife from the table and holding it close to his face, blade down as if ready to fight. “There are no bodies. They want to use the story to stir fear in the farmers and then steer it toward fighting against Titannus. They want revenge for what he did to their community, and they’re willing to sacrifice our blood to accomplish it.

  “Old Ferren and the others of the Heroes Brigade have deluded themselves with their mission. It’s like the cultists south of us. The Caulderi. Charisma mixed with a little fear and doom can build a following ten times faster than truth. If we allow them more time to sway the farmers with their little schemes and lies, there’s no telling how many more they’ll drag in by their scare tactics.”

  Mayor Brundig paused again on the painting of his father, mostly satisfied. “You’re right,” he sighed. “It’s time we parted ways with them. They’ve stirred the pot for the last time.”

  ***

  Titannus stood under the portico just outside of the barracks where his men were dining. In the distance, the sun was waning as it descended behind the distant ridgeline. The trees looked golden there, bathed and cleansed in majestic glory.

  The loud laughter and revelry of his men was a distant sound amidst his thoughts. He was not alone in his head.

  Is everything in place? came Zarith’s calm, quiet tone pushing through the walls of Titannus’s mind.

  Yes, but we’ve had a setback, replied Titannus, focusing his words back to his master who was a very great distance to the east, sitting cross-legged before six of his newest disciples.

  Zarith’s voice surged softly into Titannus’s, but there was a note of concern. What’s happened?

  Five of the seven we sent never returned. I fear they were killed and the Meadowlanders will suspect our intentions.

  A long silence followed this last communication and Titannus peered again at the gold-tinted trees on the ridge. The harshness of the day had faded into this brief hour and all things became as they should be. Balanced. Pure. He longed to see the day when all things could be made as such. Though the sun could not be controlled, the hearts and minds of men were not so impassible.

  Zarith’s voice finally echoed again over his thoughts. Have you tried to breach the minds of any of the Meadowlanders?

  I have not. It is a challenge to get near enough that place without being discovered.

  Who in the Meadowlands killed your men?

  Titannus stroked his fingers lightly through his long white hair. That is a question I’ve been pondering. It is not the first time men have failed to return after going too close to that valley. It seems that entire forest has ears that hear our footsteps. I find it unnerving.

  His master’s response was another round of silence. Titannus closed his eyes and waited for that empowering voice to return. The voice who’d mentored him as a youth and taught him the power of magecraft.

  This is disturbing news, came Zarith’s voice again. Finding the answer to the riddle should be of utmost importance. Do not delay the plan, but be attuned to this new threat. I do not know with certainty, but I suspect there may be a Meadowlander who has harnessed some form of our powers. If this is the case, your mission has become all the more urgent. If an impure mage exists there, every effort must be made to hunt them down. Kill them if they do not convert. We do not want them spreading their diseased magic to others. Overmage Krolan would have our heads.

  ***

  Payetta leaned against the wall in Old Ferren’s house and watched five of the men in the Heroes Brigade dance like idiots with their wives.

  Brodie and his eldest son strummed their guitars and Kinwick’s foot stomped a beat as his fingers drummed on a lineup of Old Ferren’s pots and pans. Dane and Flinn were striding around cheek to cheek with their wives while Kirk attempted to perform a more traditional dance with his lady. Jax and Ian were doing god knows what on the floor as their wives were doubled over with uncontrolled fits of snorting and laughter.

  The smell of pan-fried fish drifted from the kitchen where Justen was busy helping Old Ferren prepare dinner.

  Ferren had returned from his fishing trip to hear the ridiculous news of her and Justen’s banishment and all that had taken place in Hargstead. He frowned then, just as he was frowning now.

  Payetta pushed off the wall and entered the kitchen, careful to grab her husband’s rear as she passed him cooking the fish over the fire. Old Ferren was dicing carrots when she slid beside him and met his glare with a sly smile.

  “You going to miss me, ya old grouch?”

  He wrinkled his bulbous nose at her. “You’re not going anywhere. I can’t get rid of you that easy.” He winked at her.

  “What? You think Justen and I aren’t worried big, bad Captain Percy might lock us up and throw away the keys?”

  Old Ferren’s frown returned. “I’m a lot more concerned for Captain Percy than I am for the two of you. Not that I care much for him, just that—blast it all—don’t do something stupid, Payetta!”

  She placed her hand against her chest and feigned surprise. “Why, I would never,” she said sweetly.

  “The day they find out you know magic, then things will get complicated. Just control yourself, all right? The guys told me what you did to one of the raiders… don’t be tempted…”

  Payetta lifted her right eyebrow just a hair. “Which raider? The one She Grunts sprayed in the face, or the one I castrated with a badger?”

  “You did what with a badger!? No—never mind. I don’t want to know.”

  Ferren’s wife scooped up a tray of his freshly cut carrots. “You giving my husband a hard time again?”

  “I’m just trying to cheer his grouchy ass up. He worries too much.”

  “We both do. We love you and Justen too much not to. You heed his advice now and take care of yourself. Don’t want a kerfuffle springing up in the Meadows.”

  “Of course,” replied Paye
tta. “I’m just being a pain, that’s all. All bark, no bite, you know me.”

  Ferren’s wife departed with a doubtful look and a little hmmph noise to verbalize her skepticism.

  Old Ferren leaned in and whispered. “Kerfuffle should be your new name.”

  Payetta snagged a slice of carrot and popped it into her mouth. “I’ll give you a reprieve tonight, Ferren. I could stand here and ream you all evening with comebacks. I hope you enjoyed your day on the lake. I know you need a break from me every now and again.”

  The old man gave her a slanted grin. “Naaaaah.”

  She winked and spun around, making her way back to Justen. “I want to get out tonight. Feel like heading up to Camarack? We haven’t been up to see the graves in months.”

  “Tonight? It’s already near sundown.”

  Payetta shrugged. “I’m just following the rules, Justen.”

  Her husband scowled suspiciously. “What rules?”

  “We’re supposed to leave the Meadows,” she replied very seriously, then lifted an eyebrow. “Percy’s orders.”

  Justen shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Camarack’s a three-hour walk.”

  “So let’s borrow Ian’s horses. It’s a full moon and a cloudless sky. Besides, I need to go. It’s been too long since I paid my respects.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  The ride up to their old mountain community took two hours. The road to the little village was always accompanied by a heaviness in the heart. It was a steep path and completely unused by anyone but themselves. It was once a thriving little trade route between the Meadowlands and Camarack.

  The mountain people hunted, gathered pelts, and foraged delicate mushrooms and plants only found deep in the forests. And they crafted instruments and decorations from wood and rock.

  They also were adept at salvaging metal and the occasional odd object found at one of the ancient building sites that were now overgrown and usually lost or buried in the undergrowth of the woods.

  The past was still a mystery. Pieces of what exactly had happened long ago could be gleaned from the older generations, but everything came back to an era of madness and the time when most men and woman had gone insane, killing their own friends and family, eating other humans and burning every remnant of civilization down to the ground. The old timers said the brutals were tame in comparison.