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

by Salvador Mercer

  The rain never let up, and in a way, it kept the streets empty, as did the lateness of the night. Plenty of people were peering from dark windows at the seat of power for their ruling caste and wondering what could cause the pyrotechnic displays they were witnessing. Hardly anyone noticed the pair of Kesh and their Ulathan companions as they raced along the dark and deserted streets of Keshtor, and when they were noticed, they were quickly forgotten as another ball of fire or bolt of lightning lit up the night sky around them.

  The last hurdle, getting through the main city gates, was almost as easy as the postern door. A few words from Dorsun, followed by orders from Khan, and considering the battle being fought for control of their city, the guards decided not to challenge an unknown wizard and a Kesh chieftain, allowing them passage out of the city even at that late hour.

  As the rain finally started to slow and stop, the group found themselves far outside the outskirts of the city where they had their horses stabled. Dorsun had to wake the stable boy who was the only one sleeping through the thunder of that night. The owner stayed in the doorway and watched as he took payment from his clients. The horses were saddled and brought around to them, and the pair of Kesh took all four mounts and led them to a dip in the main road where the Ulathans were waiting for them.

  “I do not think I need to ask.” Khan pulled his horse up and offered the reins to Targon. Dorsun did the same for Salina. Dareen had demanded that Targon put her down once they were outside the walls, telling him she didn’t need her son to carry her all the way to Ulatha.

  “No, you don’t,” Salina agreed. “Let’s ride until we fall out of our saddles.”

  “I’ll hold you,” Targon said, mounting his steed and then pulling his mother up and allowing her to sit in front of him. He used one hand on the reins, and the other he wrapped around her waist, holding her close.

  They rode like the wind for most of the night, and when the sun came up, they allowed the horses to alternate between a gallop and a trot. Dareen fell into a fitful sleep, and Targon kept her from falling. Salina yawned and slipped a couple of times while Dorsun kept his mount close to hers. After a few more hours, Khan pointed at an old barn that stood at an abandoned farmhouse. “Does that place look familiar to you?”

  “Yes,” Salina said, rubbing her eyes and blinking multiple times. “I think I remember passing it on the way to Keshtor.”

  “Well, I mentioned it may be a good place to rest, and I think now we should do just that.”

  The others nodded, and they took their mounts inside the barn structure, which did little to help them, as most of the roof was missing. The ground was dirty, and wild grasses grew inside the building, but there were remnants of stalls and some old hay and leaves that left at least some place to rest.

  They dismounted, tied their horses to the old wooden railing, and found places to lay out their bedrolls. Dareen lay between Targon and Salina for body heat, as she had started to shiver again despite Targon giving her a clean blanket from his pack and keeping her as close to his own body as he could.

  They didn’t discuss keeping a guard. Targon said he felt sorry for anyone who would disturb them, and they all fell asleep in the cool autumn morning. Targon had freed his mother.

  Chapter 25

  Reunion

  The pair of barbarians had been beaten down and injured. Their attacks on the Lich were ineffective, and both had lost their weapons, having watched them melt once they entered the creature’s body. Their comrades around them lay dead on the ground, and only the new arrival had sparred them their lives.

  Kaz watched as Bran returned with another tall man, an Ulathan also by appearances, but this man was as tall as they were and almost as large in build and stature. He carried a bow that he had slung over his shoulder and then pointed at them with a rod that he now carried in his hand. It glowed an ebony color that seemed to have some effect on the dead.

  “Why should I let them live?” Malik asked.

  “Good to see you too,” Bran stated, walking up with his sword in his hand and standing next to the Lich and the Ulathan bowman. “These men have honor, and if you can’t compel yourself to show mercy for once in your life, then do it for me.”

  “I have liberated Korwell for you. That should be enough,” Malik countered.

  “I’m serious, Malik,” Bran said. “Spare these men and let them return to their homelands.

  Malik paused for a second then looked at Azor, who stood motionless next to them. The light in his eyes pulsated, indicating that the Lich was animated and aware of his surroundings even though his body appeared to have been immobilized. Without a cue from the dead mage, Malik was going to have to make the decision himself.

  “Whatever you’re going to do, you better do it soon,” Isolda said from across the tent as she walked back toward them from the western wall of the complex.

  “Why? What’s happening over there?” Malik asked.

  “Well, half of those barbarians are dead, and the other half are about ready to make one last suicidal charge in our direction.” Isolda reached them and stood facing the group but kept a few yards’ distance between her and her companions. “I think they know their leaders are not yet dead.”

  Malik nodded and then looked at Azor one last time before addressing Bran. “Fine, Captain Moross. Since you once commanded here, I’ll honor your request, but if I see them again, it will be their deaths.”

  “Agreed,” Bran said, and walked to stand in front of Kaz and his leader, the one who had inspected Bran three days prior. “You are free to go.” There was silence as the two men eyed him suspiciously, and Bran sheathed his own sword and then turned and walked over to the nearest weapon’s rack, picking out the two best swords he could find. Returning, he grabbed each one by the blade in his hands and offered the hilts to each Northman. Bran spoke one more time. “Ahouk, or whatever you say to mean go. Leave now quickly and take your men with you before the dead ones change their minds.”

  Whether they understood or not, the men accepted the swords and turned to walk toward their men, who were huddled against the far western wall. Nearly half of them were dead, and over a hundred waited for the attack to renew. They had taken out well over thrice their own number in undead, killing the already dead creatures and ensuring that their skeletons were unable to continue the fight.

  “I think we better escort them and make sure they find the gates before there is any more fighting,” Isolda stated.

  “Good idea,” Malik said. “Are you coming?” he asked Bran, and with a nod, the trio followed the pair of Northmen to their comrades.

  In short order, the Northmen prepared to depart. They were surrounded by well over a thousand of their undead enemy, who stood still, frozen by the command to stop that Malik had given once Korwell was liberated and the battle had been won. Kaz made one final order, and each Northman secured his weapon and then picked up a fallen comrade and hoisted the dead body over his shoulders, carrying them to the gates.

  “Hey, what do they think they’re doing?” Malik asked, not happy that the barbarians were carrying away their dead. Not that he was thinking of animating them. No, he had not and did not intend to ever do that. It was the fact that the activity was not requested and not approved. The barbarians appeared to have their own ideas of retreating.

  “Let them go,” Bran said. “They’ve suffered enough.”

  “Not the way we have,” Malik argued.

  Bran shook his head, watching them march toward the main gates. “The Kesh took advantage of them as much as they did us by invading our lands. The Kesh lied and used the Northmen for their own purposes.”

  “I won’t shed a tear for them,” Malik said, watching them leave.

  “When are you going to tell me about your new friend?” Bran asked, looking sideways at Isolda.

  “She can tell you herself when you have time,” Malik said. “Come, I want you to see something.”

  The trio, two Ulathans and a Balarian
woman, walked over to the king’s tower. They passed Azor, who held the key that Hermes had dropped. Reaching the fortification, the Lich handed the key to Malik, who unlocked the door, and the group entered and started the laborious climb of three hundred thirty-three steps to the top of the tower.

  Exiting and breathing deeply, all except the Lich, who didn’t breathe at all, the group went to the northern edge of the tower and looked out over the stormy, windswept view of the realm of Ulatha. They watched as the Northmen headed to their camp to break it and return north. Much further away, almost out of sight, was the remnants of the Kesh brigade that had occupied Korwell, also fleeing along the ancient trade road, presumably back to their own realm.

  “What did you want to show me?” Bran asked, looking at Malik intently.

  Malik pointed straight out and then swept his hand across the valley and to the east. “I told you I’d liberate Ulatha and make things right.”

  Bran leaned forward and looked down at the undead milling in the inner courtyard below them. They had been freed of their last order to halt in place and now were roaming about, looking for the living, the ones they were allowed to hunt. “You call that making things right?” Bran motioned with his head to indicate what he was referring to.

  “Well,” Malik began, “you were supposed to help me secure an army and liberate our realm. You spent the summer healing and enjoying Kesh hospitality, so I was forced to act on my own. Don’t question the nature of the army that I provided. Those creatures will move to the next target in due time, and our capital and land will be free of them and all our enemies.”

  “Pray tell, what target would that be?”

  Malik looked at his former captain but didn’t have to answer. Azor the Lich answered for him. “Kesh.”

  The return journey was uneventful. They ran into only one patrol, and that one was dead. Core had been reunited with Marissa, and Will could not contain himself once they came across the scouting party of Kesh brigands. Cedric, Will, Marissa, and Core decimated the patrol but maintained their guard at the entrance, or exit, to the underground city of the ancients. The horses were let loose in the wild, and the saddles hidden not far from the northern road. They had heard nothing of events back in Keshtor and didn’t fancy finding out along the main road, so returning the horses to any sort of stable was out of the question.

  Targon had argued against a return trip through the mountain passageway, reminding his fellow travelers of the snake-like creature that had attacked them. Who knew what else was waiting for them? In addition to this, his mother, Dareen, had an intense desire to stay above ground and protested any travel that required going back into a tunnel, passageway, or dungeon. In the end, Marissa protested that if Core could not go back to their country, then she would stay with him in Kesh until he could. The only way for the huge bear to traverse the mountains was via the secret construct of the ancients.

  Argyll, flying overhead, had remained above the entrance to the mountain door, and they took that as a sign that it was safe to travel, at least from the bird’s point of view. They managed to traverse the Border Mountains in only a day and a half and came out the other side without incident. They were expecting trolls, but they had timed their journey so as to arrive in mid-morning and allow enough time to exit the area before nightfall. Trolls did not like daylight, and the autumn storm clouds had finally cleared, allowing plenty of precious sunlight to touch the ground.

  After two more days of fitful sleep and travel, the group found themselves back in the Blackthorn Forest. The reunion between mother and daughter was an emotional one, and even grumpy Agatha had shed a tear at seeing Ann and her mother reunited. There was hardly a dry eye at the Terrel homestead that day.

  Later, when the day had waned and all were readying for the evening, Dareen took Will aside, where they were seen talking between themselves at the edge of the forest, well out of earshot. Salina walked up to Targon, who was witnessing the scene, and joined him. “She’s telling him about Inga,” Salina said.

  “I know,” Targon replied, lowering his gaze as if he shouldn’t be watching the scene unfold.

  Dareen had said something that caused Will intense grief and emotion, and the man held his hands to his face. Targon’s mother took the man’s head, which was well above her own, and brought it down to her shoulder, allowing the man to grieve and bear his pain again with someone who cared. They stood like that for a long time, holding one another and consoling each in turn. Dareen was seen wiping her eyes as well.

  “We should let them be,” Salina said, turning to face the group on the porch and around the firepit where the McFadden brothers from Rockton were preparing the wood for burning. Each and every one had a place and a duty.

  When the sun set and the stars came out to shine and play, the group gathered together for Elister’s big announcement. This time, Dareen sat in front, closest to the fire, with Targon at her side and Ann in her lap. Mary from Rockton had taken one of Salina’s old brushes and used it to comb Dareen’s hair after a refreshing bath in Bony Brook earlier that day. She had been given more food than she could eat, and everyone else had finished their suppers for the night.

  Salina sat next to Targon with Karz on her lap. Both Ann and Karz had struck up a brother-sister-type relationship, with Ann being the older sister and adopting the young boy in Salina’s absence. She leaned toward the Terrels and asked, “Any idea what Elister is up to? He’s been gone most of the day and evening as well.”

  “Beats me,” Targon said. “I thought he’d want to be here once we returned. It has to be something important to keep him away like this.”

  “Well, we won’t have long to wait. There he is now.” Salina pointed to the southern part of the forest where the dead druid came out of the trees and walked toward them in the dark.

  “Hello, everyone. Comfy, now are we?” Elister asked, and all eyes turned to the petrified druid.

  “As good as last time you asked that question, Master Druid,” Horace said from the porch where he sat as usual with a loaded crossbow in his hand.

  “Very good,” Elister said. “I’m afraid I’ll need to ask you to put your weapon inside the cabin for the safety of everyone here.”

  “You can take my crossbow when I’m dead and gone,” Horace stated defiantly. It took a few minutes before Emelda talked some sense into the old man and he let her take the weapon and place it inside. Most of the Ulathans were unarmed, and only a few of the warriors, Will, Salina, Dorsun, and Targon, had weapons that they kept. Khan kept his staff, of course.

  “Yes, well, I am sorry for the drama, but I have some good news and some not so good news,” Elister began. When no one said anything, he continued. “Ah, again, a fine welcome to our esteemed hostess, Dareen Terrel. It is most pleasing to finally see you home again. We have much to do, but first, the good news.”

  “Go on,” Agatha said. “We ain’t got all night, you know.”

  “Yes, right,” Elister said, looking flustered for the first time that Targon knew him. “Where was I? Oh, Dareen Terrel is home, yes, and I must inform our Lady Salina that her husband, Bran Moross, is alive and well in Utandra.”

  “You mean Korwell,” Salina corrected him.

  “Yes, that’s what I said, Korwell.” Elister smiled at her.

  “When can we see him?” Cedric asked, smiling at the news of his father.

  Elister scratched his stony head for a moment, and everyone ignored the dust that always puffed out when the man did this. “There is a slight problem,” Elister continued. “Your father is alive and well, but he isn’t exactly free.”

  “What do you mean?” Salina asked. “Speak plainly, Master Elister. This is my husband and father of my children you’re talking about so frivolously.”

  Her distress was obvious, and Elister hurried to explain. “You see, the Kesh have been run out of Utan—Korwell.” The man corrected himself mid-word. “The problem is that the person who ran them out is a Kesh Arch-Mage who ha
s been dead for about as long as I’ve been alive. He has an army of the dead as well, so while he is alive and well, he is not free to leave and we are not welcome there right now.”

  “You jest, right?” Agatha asked, her head tilting slightly.

  “Is this even appropriate to be saying in front of the children?” Monique asked, sitting with several of them around her and looking at the adults for some sign of disapproval.

  “I’m afraid the children would be in more danger if they were not with an adult right now,” Elister stated. This got everyone’s attention as the group started to whisper and mutter under their breaths.

  Finally, Salina said, “Quiet, everyone. Allow the good druid to explain himself. I’m sure our children are perfectly safe here with us.”

  Elister looked sad, if his stone-hard facial expression could be gauged accurately. He spoke solemnly and with much respect and a tinge of fear, and fear was not known in the old man, even when he was alive. “The invading Kesh army, the war between the wizards for supremacy of their realm, this new army of the dead, and even the trolls, brigands, raiding barbarians, and evil creatures of the night have threatened us, as well as most of Agon. We should fear them. However, the recent actions of the Kesh have disturbed the peaceful existence of power in the universe. The arcane energy of the Kesh wizards has stirred things up a bit.”

  All eyes turned to Khan and Dorsun, who sat well in the back and away from the cabin, as was their usual custom. Khan did not shy away from the topic and thought he knew what the dead druid was referring to, but he asked anyway. “What exactly is it that we have to worry about now?”