Mad Mage: Claire-Agon Ranger Book 3 (Ranger Series)

by Salvador Mercer

  “Why would you scare a child to sleep? I’d think that would keep them awake and not help them to slumber.” Malik narrowed his eyes.

  Collette shrugged. “I don’t know. Don’t ye tell your children frightening stories to keep them behaved where you come from?”

  Malik had to think about this for a moment. He wasn’t really sure what Ulathans did with their young ones at bedtime, though he knew his grandpa to speak a scary tale from time to time when the old man was alive, years ago. However, he also knew his mother never scared him or his siblings in such a way. He was baffled at the local customs. “It doesn’t matter,” he finally said. “What else can you tell me about the place?”

  “Nothing, really.” She shrugged and dropped her hands to her sides. “The stories about it being haunted are true, though, as well as the fact that no one goes there. That I can say for sure.”

  “Is it far from here?”

  “It’s near the middle of the island, more than a day to walk, I think. The road there is overgrown with dead trees and brushes, and the vegetation appears to be rotten as if spoiled, though alive.”

  “You’ve been there or you’re telling me what others have told you?”

  “Oh, I’ve seen the road. It’s off the main road north that runs along the inner coast. You have to go right by it when traveling north. The mountain itself is always surrounded by dark storm clouds, and that ain’t natural, let me tell you. Gave me the creeps when last I saw it.”

  “Inner coast?” Malik asked.

  “The west side that faces the mainland. The wind and waters are calmer on that side, so the road goes that way.”

  “When was the last time you saw it?”

  “Oh, that was long ago when I was a wee girl,” she said, blushing slightly.

  “Decades ago?” Malik pressed.

  “Now, Mister Malik, you shame a woman,” she said, holding a hand to her face. “If I tell you that, then you’ll know how old I am. Ain’t proper for a gentleman to know a woman’s age, now is it?”

  Malik looked confused. He knew the age of any woman who was known to him more than a simple introduction, and thought nothing of it, but obviously this was a sensitive topic for her. “Never mind,” he said. “I just wanted to know if your information of the area was recent or not.”

  “You can go there yourself, if you like. It’s not far . . . I mean, to the crossroad, to see the mountain and the road. I don’t dare tell ye to climb it.” Her face started to turn pale at the thought.

  Malik didn’t want to inform her that the haunted mountain and Akun temple sitting atop it might actually be the exact place he needed to go. “Perhaps that may be something we do as part of my visit to Balaria. What would a trip be here without seeing the haunted mountain, eh?”

  She looked at him oddly and then said, “No one comes here to see it. It ain’t natural, it ain’t.”

  Malik nodded and let it drop. Two ain’ts in a row were enough for him. He’d have to see the place for himself.

  They spent the better part of an hour finishing their conversation before returning to The Wild Mermaid for lunch, having skipped breakfast. They returned at midday and repeated their wait. Finally, they came right before dusk and waited till it was dark and the street porters started to light the torches along the streets.

  Malik insisted that they wait until well past dark in the hopes that the crazed undead Lich would have something, or someone, prepared to meet with him. When nothing happened, they started back toward the inn. “This is stupid,” he complained.

  Collette appeared genuinely distraught at his anger. “Maybe tomorrow?” she offered meekly.

  “What was Azor thinking?” Malik said out loud.

  “Who is Azor?” she asked, trying to keep up with his long strides. In his anger, he forgot to slow his pace for his companion.

  Malik continued, moving down one street where the torches were yet to be lit, not waiting for his escort. “Oh, and that’s another thing. How can you people go running around acting like everything is normal when the Kesh have invaded my homeland?”

  Collette desperately grabbed at his arm in an effort to slow him down, as she was about to fall behind his rapid pace. Malik turned abruptly to face her as she commented, “What else are we supposed to do?” Her first question was rhetorical, but her second wasn’t. “I thought you said you were from Tallist? I hadn’t heard the Kesh invaded your realm.”

  Malik stopped for a moment and looked at the woman, who seemed somewhat startled at the change in his demeanor. He started to feel bad for allowing his anger and frustration to rise, so he took a deep breath and spoke in a lower voice. “I lied to you when I said I was from Tallist.”

  “Well, you’re too tall to be from there, so I knew ye weren’t telling me the truth . . . so then where are you from?”

  “I’d rather not say,” Malik said, looking around and wondering where all the people had gone to. It wasn’t long after dusk, and they weren’t far from the square, harbor, or his inn. The street seemed dark and deserted all of a sudden.

  Collette didn’t seem to notice. “You don’t have to say if you don’t want to, Mister Malik, but we all knows that only Rockton and the backwater realm of Ulatha were attacked by them Kesh. Don’t take a wizard to know yer from one of them places.”

  “But how can you live so happily knowing that the one realm that you trade with the most has invaded other sovereign realms?”

  “I don’t know what you mean by sovering,” she said incorrectly, “but our lives here are anything but normal or happy. Just look around you. We lost half our trade overnight to those magic-users, and half of us found ourselves without a means of living, if you understand my meaning. We just doing the best we can with what we have, and yes, we may be lucky to have been spared them Kesh, but that has more to do with our guilds and less to do with anything we done right.”

  Malik looked at the woman who had spoken simply but strongly in defense of her own realm. So far, Balaria wasn’t exactly living up to its reputation as a land of thieves and assassins. The only people he’d met so far seemed industrious and friendly, quite the opposite of what he had expected. It took only a second for the illusion to vanish.

  “Step aside, Colly,” a voice said softly as three figures suddenly appeared from deep shadows along the buildings around them. They cut off escape from either street, along with the nearest cross street.

  Malik turned, stepping back and pulling Collette with him so that they had their backs against the wall. He drew his sword and swung it from side to side in preparation for a battle. “I should have known,” was all he said.

  “Have you three gone daft?” Collette asked, appearing to know who their attackers were. The three men had wicked-looking short swords in one hand and a dagger in the other. Together, they were facing six weapons and three opponents. “Old man Harvey will turn you in himself if you mess with his customer.”

  “Well, times been hard, lass,” the closest man said, “and Master Harvey hasn’t been sharing in his good fortunes of late. We reckon it’s time that this here gently man pay his dues.”

  The way in which the thief mispronounced the title for Malik was mocking, and the man didn’t apologize for it. Malik shot a quick glance at Collette and whispered, “Do you know these men?”

  “Sort of.” Collette spoke softly.

  The chief thief interrupted her. “Oh, now, Colly, don’t be coy with the gently man there. Tell ’em about our relationship together, you and me. I’m sure he’ll be likin’ it once he hears it.” The man guffawed at his own secret joke with the woman.

  Malik watched as Collette started to tear up and shook her head at him. It was obvious she was distraught and upset by their appearance. He didn’t know what relationship they had in the past, but he felt confident that she wasn’t part of what was happening now. He turned to the first man and leveled his sword at him. “It’s true I don’t know you, but it’s also true you don’t know me.”

&
nbsp; The man tilted his cloaked head slightly in a sign of confusion. “What’s that supposed to mean?” The man waited for an answer for a second, and then realized that he didn’t have all night to strike up a conversation with his mark. He added with a note of finality, “Never mind. Just hand over that large purse of coin that ye got there under your belt and we’ll be on our way nicely now. Then you and Miss Colly can enjoy your evening together.”

  The other two thieves laughed at that and started to advance on the pair. Malik spoke to the man for the last time. “You missed my point. You have no idea what I’m about to do to you. Miss Collette here will be seeing to it that you and your two companions are given a proper burial despite your status as thieves.”

  The three men laughed at that. There was no stigma to being a thief in Balaria; in fact, it was considered one of the better professions to have, especially if membership in the guild was included. “Times up, Mister Gently Man,” the leader mocked. “Besides, who said there were only three of us?”

  Malik looked around and saw no one else, but the thief’s words rang true. If there were more of them, he could hardly know where to look. He didn’t have long to wait before he spotted the commotion on the rooftop opposite of him. The next moves were faster than the eye could follow. An errant bolt almost hit Collette in her head, though he was sure it was meant for him. He thrust with his blade and scored a hit on the companion of the leader directly into the man’s chest, missing his heart he was aiming for.

  Collette screamed, and one of the bandits tried to silence her by hitting her over the head with the hilt of his dagger. The move obviously showed that these thieves had some sort of reluctance to kill or harm her, either due to some rule or law of the Thieves’ Guild, or because they knew one another. There apparently was either no law or fear of any government rule breaking to stop their initial attack.

  The next moves were parries and thrusts with the other two robbers as Malik used his free hand to bring Collette behind him, as he had stepped in front of her and gave some room between the building’s stone wall and his back, as well as putting some distance between her and the third attacker. He was about to make a run for it, pulling her with him, when a dark silhouette jumped down from the far building kitty-corner to them. The figure quickly crossed to them and held a blade to the back of the lead thief’s neck. The man froze instantly, and his companion, sensing that something had happened and bleeding from his shoulder wound, stopped and stepped back, disengaging Malik and seeing what had happened to his leader. The third man, the one who’d tried to club Collette with the hilt of his knife, did the same.

  The voice of the figure was soft and feminine, though deadly. “I think it’s time to call it a night, boys.”

  There was hesitation as all three thieves assessed the situation. Malik didn’t hesitate and stepped forward, bringing the point of his sword at the exposed neck of the man he had already wounded. If they miscalculated, then two of them would die immediately, leaving only the one clubber left, as whoever was on the rooftop with the crossbow was also out of commission.

  The men were wiser than they were effective as robbers. “As ye say, lady of the night,” said the lead bandit, lowering his blade and tucking his dagger into his belt.

  The dark figure pulled her blade back and circled, keeping it leveled at him as she brought herself around to the side of Malik so the attackers could see her better. “I have business with our visitor . . . official business, so time for you to go.”

  The men required no further prompting and backpedaled before heading to the building where their companion was located. They entered the stone structure, and the sounds of their boots could be heard as they ran up a set of stairs located just inside the side doorway. Malik turned to Collette. “Are you all right?”

  The woman gasped and started to breathe heavily as she shook from the encounter. She nodded and then spoke briefly. “I’ll be needing that bath soon, if you don’t mind, Mister Malik, sir.”

  Before he could answer, the other woman grabbed his arm and said, “It’s not safe here. We need to relocate.”

  Malik nodded, and the woman turned, hardly visible in her dark cape and clothing. She sheathed her sword on the run and zigzagged into several smaller streets and alleyways until they started to encounter not only people but lit torches as well. She pulled the pair, Malik and Collette, into a dark corner of an adjacent alley where the street was lit, and a few people strolled by, but they were hard to see in the shadows and out of the way.

  Malik spoke first. “Who are you? And I guess I should thank you.”

  The woman responded, “You are Malik of Ulatha, are you not?”

  He looked at Collette, whose eyes widened in surprise, though she had already figured out that he was either from Ulatha or Rockton. This would only confirm it, so Malik nodded. “I am. Now who are you?”

  The woman nodded and then looked in both directions before speaking in a hushed tone. “I am Isolda of Balax, and my client has tasked me with securing you and bringing you to him . . . safe and unharmed.” She added the last part since Malik narrowed his eyes at her in suspicion and gripped his sword, which he had sheathed during their run.

  Malik loosened his grip slightly at her words, but also because she had obviously helped him, though that the entire incident could be an elaborate ruse to get him to trust a stranger. Either way, he’d keep a good eye on her just the same. “I guess thanks is in order for your assistance back there. Who was on the rooftop?”

  “Those cutthroats had a boltman covering you from high ground. I took him out first.”

  “Boltman, eh?” he asked.

  “Yeah, a crossbowman,” Isolda explained. “Why? Do you call them something else?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Malik waved her off with his hand and then continued. “Only the one, then?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then he was exaggerating a bit at how many his crew numbered,” Malik pondered to himself out loud.

  The female intervenor took it as a question. “He did. There were only four of them.”

  “Do you know them, and what did you mean by official business?” Malik asked.

  Collette pulled at his arm sleeve, getting his attention, and whispered with a tinge of awe in her voice, “That means official guild business, it does.” Her emphasis on the organization was obvious.

  Before he could say anything, the other woman added, “The Lady Collette is correct, but I lied about that last part.”

  “You did?” Collette’s eyes went wide, and an expression of relief crossed her face at the revelation that the guild wasn’t involved. Then came the proverbial curiosity. “Whatever for?”

  The female motioned for them to come closer to her. Unconsciously, they were keeping a distance that wasn’t normal or conducive to a discreet conversation. The pair stepped forward as Isolda spoke. “It was the path of least resistance. My client needs to meet with you quickly, and we didn’t have time for a fight. Besides, I’ve never seen you use a sword before, so there was a danger that you could be hurt, rendering you unable to talk, or worse, killed. Then my client would be most displeased.”

  “So you are an actual guild member?” Malik asked.

  “I am,” Isolda answered.

  “And they . . . weren’t members?” Malik asked in an attempt to understand the political dynamics involved in the attack on him and Collette.

  “Correct again,” she answered, and then added, “However, my business now lies outside the scope of official business. What I do now is considered freelance work.”

  “Understood,” Malik said. “So who is this client of yours who wants an audience with me?”

  Isolda looked at both for a long moment before answering, “A Kesh mage.”

  Chapter 9

  Death Decisions

  “You should have stayed away and let me expose the trap,” Dorsun said to Salina, hefting his blade and preparing for death.

  She didn’t hesitate in
her response. “Then you wasted the entire summer in not getting to know us. We could not allow you to die here for us in vain. Honor works in more than just one culture.”

  “The good news is that Father isn’t here,” Cedric said, holding his last two knives, one in each hand. “There is still hope to save him.”

  The young man’s comments weren’t meant for them. Salina leaned close to her son and turned her head to look at him. “I’m proud of you, and your father would be, too, if he were here to see it.”

  “Kill them,” the Balarian ordered.

  “Charge,” the remaining Red Throat commander ordered. “Make ’em pay for their crimes.”

  Salina stepped in front of her son to take the lead brigand, engaging him with her slender sword. The man’s eyes widened as suddenly, as if by magic, a familiar-looking arrow appeared in the man’s chest, dropping him to the ground. Several more brigands were likewise dropped in similar fashion, and a chilling war cry thundered across the ground. “Ulatha!”

  “Fight,” Salina ordered, sparing with an opponent who was caught off guard, looking for the source of the arrows. She put him down with a thrust to his torso. The Balarian assassins scurried for cover, having more sense than their Kesh counterparts.

  Dorsun engaged two brigands who were attempting to flank them, wounding one on the man’s sword arm, causing him to drop his weapon, and slicing the chin of the second. Neither wound was fatal, but they had the same effect, stopping both men’s attacks in less than a few seconds.

  Cedric had the hardest task. Every time he brought his throwing arm back to launch his knife at a target, that exact target fell to one of Targon’s arrows. “Damn,” he exclaimed as the third and fourth targets went down. In all, a dozen arrows hit their marks, none missed, and almost all were fatal. Looking over his shoulder, he shouted into the darkness, “Leave some for me!”

  “Now is not the time for bravado,” Dorsun chastised the young man. “We’re still in serious trouble.”