Death Flag

  “That’s right,” Warren said, picking up right where she left off. “I’m surprised you even know about it, Shayna. Most of it wasn’t recorded in the histories because it was such a dark time for our world, and people weren’t keeping records on every little thing. Not to mention, a lot of people are embarrassed to admit that it ever even happened.”

  “What do you mean?” Madison asked, eyeing the boots at his feet. As far as he could tell, they were just simple boots. “I can understand people not recording things when they’re worried about how they’re going to make it past the next day, but why would they be embarrassed about it?”

  “Ahh . . . Well, an entire practice of magic was basically wiped out overnight,” Warren explained. “People had to blame someone for all their misfortune, and more often than not, they were willing to blame it on magicians and casters. You can understand how superstition runs wild in small country towns where they don’t come in contact with a lot of folk who can practice the arts. Couple that with the facts that life was harsh, and there really wasn’t much that magic could do to help them back then. Healing magic was around, certainly, but it wasn’t nearly as advanced as it is now. For as few healers as we have who can actually practice that line of magic, there are far more powerful and more useful spells now than there were then. Not to mention, casters did a lot of damage during the wars at the behest of the lords they served. You’ve seen what magic can do. Imagine using it against people who were completely defenseless and likely didn’t have a clue what it was capable of. It was a slaughterhouse for years.”

  Madison kicked at the boots once again, resting his weight on their toe to see how it would hold up under pressure. “What you’re saying is that, once things were all said and done, the people had to blame someone for all their trouble, and they started blaming magicians because no one else was readily available. So, naturally, someone forms a cult, the Hunters, and they track down every single magician they can get their hands on who uses a certain type of magic?”

  “Pretty much. The battle magic was targeted in particular because of its effects in war. Those impossibly-light boots are just the start of it. Can you imagine armor or weapons imbued with magic that gave its wearer impossible properties? The ability to dodge attacks? To pierce through armor? The ability to jump higher, run faster and longer, and to never get tired? We don’t even know what all of the abilities were because they were so thoroughly eradicated. What little bit of it I read was stored in the library at K’yer Utane, and it might very well be the only information on it anywhere in the world.”

  Madison looked back and forth between Shayna and Warren and then reached into the chest once again as he started fishing around for more gear. “I think you might want to go easy on that fancy new gear you’re using then. It’s either a thousand years old, or so incredibly rare that it’s irreplaceable if you screw it up.” He felt something appear in his hands, and he straightened up as he pulled it out to examine it. He scowled down at the curved, black metal, flipping it over and over in his hands. “Sabatons,” he said, holding the pair up to the pale light to get a better look at them. “I think. Designed to protect your feet. I was a bit curious what that dragon had in mind for me, but I think this gives it away.” He reached back into the chest with both hands with a goal in mind.

  Now that he knew what he was looking for, rather than just using a vague idea, it seemed to go much faster. He pulled forth an entire suit of heavy armor in a matter of minutes, starting with his feet and working his way up. He had studied the various different parts that made up a suit of armor at one point in time for a class he took on medieval history, but he couldn’t recall the name of exactly every single piece as it came out of the chest, even if he recognized them for their intended purposes.

  By the time he was finished, he had stowed away a pair of boots, greaves, cuisses, vambraces, rerebraces, and large, angular pauldons that were designed from several layers of thick material. He had pulled forth a pair of black leather gloves that clearly matched the boots, along with the little pieces designed to protect his knees and elbows, which he couldn’t remember the names of. The final piece of armor he pulled out was a breastplate that was covered with the same angular features as the pauldrons, and by that point, he was slightly concerned that he wouldn’t be above to move about at all when wearing the armor. No single piece had felt particularly heavy in his hands, but he knew that all that additional weight would add up once he donned it all. Lastly, he went fishing for a helm. Instead, however, he pulled forth a large, dark hood with a heavy cowl made from a soft, flexible material. Madison shook his head, trying to imagine what it would be like wearing it into battle. He’d have to be wary of headshots, for certain, but he was also worried that it was going to restrict his vision—something that could be even deadlier.

  “I guess that’s it,” he said when he’d finished stashing everything away. He was certain that the small footlocker Warren had prepared for him so long ago was filled to the brim and beyond at this point, but he didn’t dare ask how any of that worked. He was certain the answer would be ‘magic,’ but it didn’t stop him from being curious. The breastplate alone was larger than the original size of the footlocker, so the physics just didn’t add up—and that wasn’t even considering everything else that had been packed into it originally.

  “Care to try it on?” Warren asked. “You should probably get a feel for it before you have to wear it into battle.”

  Madison nodded and braced himself, expecting to suddenly be burdened down with all the weight of a heavy set of armor. He thought about pulling it forth from the locker like he did everything else, and he saw the same faint glow surround his body that he had seen on Warren and Shayna as they equipped their gear. He felt his orientation shift slightly as his thin boots were replaced with the new pair—they clearly had a larger sole on them—but that was it. He looked down, expecting to find that he had somehow failed in his task but was surprised to find that he was wearing the armor. He held his hands up and flexed them, and he could feel the stiff leather in the gloves and see the vambraces and rerebraces covering his arms, but he couldn’t actually feel them. He twisted his head to the side, eyeing the massive pauldrons on his shoulders, and then leaned forward to examine the sabatons, greaves, and cuisses on his legs. He realized then that there was also a dark-colored cloth tasset hanging from his breastplate that he was certain hadn’t been there before. He shook his head disbelievingly at the sudden change and how light everything felt, and he realized that the cowl was on his head as well.

  “Woah . . .” Warren gasped.

  Shayna sucked in a sharp breath and didn’t let it out. “That’s creepy,” she said slowly. “I can’t even see your face. How can you see from under that thing?”

  Madison shrugged, and the movement came as naturally and easily as it would have if he wasn’t wearing anything at all. “I don’t know. But as far as enchanted armor goes, this is definitely that.” He held up one hand and flexed his fingers before swinging his arms from side to side. He took a few steps forward, and realizing how light he felt on his feet, he took a few small jumps. Not only was he able to clear as much ground as he could normally, he was certain he had covered a little more as well.

  “That’s . . . uncanny,” Warren observed. “That’s definitely enchanted armor. There’s no way you should move like that normally.”

  “That’s so weird!” Shayna said again, this time with much more emphasis. She crossed her arms over her chest and turned her nose up and said, “It definitely suits you.”

  “No pun intended?” Madison asked. He reached into the chest and instantly felt his hand clasp around what he was looking for. He pulled forth a long two-handed sword, and the moment it was drawn from the chest, Madison knew that it was magic. He felt a jolt of electricity run up his arm that stuck him to the core of his being. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, letting him know for certain that magic was at play, and he was reminded of that same ee
rie feeling he got whenever he was being examined. It was like the sword was somehow judging him the same way the dragon had.

  Madison held the weapon up in front of him with both hands and examined it as the feelings washed over him. Then, just like they had appeared, they simply disappeared. Whatever the magic had been doing, it was over with. Just like the armor, the blade was designed with functionality in mind over appearance. The long steel blade reflected back what little light there was, and it was set over a modest guard and a leather-wrapped grip. He stepped forward, moving through a few practice swings, and he was pleased with what he felt. The sword was light, well-balanced, and incredibly responsive. He was able to turn and parry and thrust and jab exactly how he wanted without having to worry about the weapon’s weight dragging him down.

  When he was finished, Madison made everything disappear back into his own trunk once again and walked back to where the others were waiting.

  “You’re not going to keep the armor on?” Warren asked in surprise.

  “No, I don’t think so. I really don’t see the point unless we’re going into battle. It’s not uncomfortable or anything, and I think I might be able to move better with it on than I can on my own thanks to the enchantments, but I don’t want to paint a target on myself if someone happens to spot us. You guys have gear that’s designed to blend in and be stealthy—that armor, while extremely functional on a battlefield, clearly isn’t meant for sneaking around in the woods.”

  “Ah. I see your point,” Warren replied, almost sympathetically.

  “So, you don’t want to broadcast to everyone what a creeper you are?” Shayna asked, actually managing to sound relieved. “Maybe there’s hope for you yet.”

  “I can reform, but you will never grow!” Madison shot back. On a whim, he reached out and shut the lid to the chest, grabbed it by its edges, and then tried to make it disappear into his own footlocker. There was no telling what else it contained, and he didn’t want to leave it sitting around for just anyone to find. Unexpectedly, it worked. The large chest completely disappeared from sight, leaving his empty hands to frame up what had formerly been the edges of the chest’s lid. “I’m never going to get used to that,” he commented. “I really want to know how all that can be stored away in something that’s not even large enough to hold all the smaller pieces but . . .”

  He trailed off, leaving the thought unfinished, and turned to look to the east. The light was growing brighter there, though it looked like only a short time had passed since they had been high in the clouds above on the dragon. They had certainly taken their time going through the new gear the dragon had left for them, but Madison felt like it was worth it. They had been woefully under equipped compared to now, so as far as he was concerned, it was time well spent. His only concern was that they somehow weren’t going to reach the others in time to rescue them. But, if that was the case, a half hour spent on preparations wasn’t likely to make the difference.

  “We need to get moving. We’ve spent too much time here as it is, and we have a job to finish,” he said. Then, without waiting for a response, he started off walking across the clearing.

  “Agreed,” Warren said, falling in beside him.

  Shayna lagged behind for a moment but quickly fell in as well. “Where do we start?” she asked. “We don’t even know where to go from here.”

  “Actually, I was taking notes while we were up above. There’s someone camped close to here, a little higher up on the mountain. I think that’s the best place for us to start for now. We go back to our original plan, and we don’t fail this time.”

  “Wait, you mean you want to try and take someone prisoner again?” Warren asked in surprise. “That didn’t go so well last time, Madison.”

  “No, it didn’t,” Madison agreed. “But I won’t screw up again. Besides, we don’t have any other choice. We need information now more than we did then, and there’s only one way we’re going to get it. I saw a larger camp down to the southeast, but I don’t want to march in there with just the three of us unless we have to. It would also likely take close to a full day of travel to get there, even with your magical abilities.”

  “How do we know that the people you saw up here are connected to anything else that’s going on down there?” Shayna asked dubiously. “They could be completely separate and not have anything to do with the others.”

  Madison shrugged. “That’s a possibility. But we won’t know until we find out. Plus, we have to keep in mind that these groups seem to have occupied this area for a while. If they have enough forces to attack Lord Fox and his retinue as well as cover the entire western forest, it’s unlikely that even a small force would be able to slip through completely undetected. The way this mountain is, they had to either come around the long way, starting in the east, or they scaled up several hundred feet of sheer rock face to get there. That’s possible but . . . Well, it’s not likely.”

  Everyone remained silent for a time after that as they all focused on putting one foot in front of the other without tripping over anything in the dark. Once Madison told Warren the general direction of the camp, the younger man was more than willing to take the lead, and Madison was thankful to have someone who was a natural scout leading the way. Plus, if he understood the exchange he had heard between Warren and Shayna, they actually had the ability to see in the dark, even if it was limited. Madison materialized some of the jerky and oats from his rations so that he could eat while he walked even though he wasn’t very hungry yet. He was beginning to suspect that one of the side effects of the Rush he had taken was to decrease his appetite, so he made a mental note to stuff some protein and carbs into his body along with a little water every chance he got. Warren and Shayna followed his example, and the trio had a small snack while making their way north and further up toward the mountain.

  Madison was the first one to break the silence, filling them both in on some of the details of what had happened after they plunged into the river while Shayna was unconscious and Warren was missing. It turned out that Shayna had come out of the river upstream from where Madison had. She had been groggy and disoriented when the troll found her, but she had managed to put up enough of a fight to sink her dagger into its back before it walloped her with one of those massive punches, rendering her unconscious. She had been so unsteady on her feet that she hadn’t been able to evade the attack in time—a fact that she was apparently self-conscious about.

  Warren’s tale was actually a little different. He had dived into the river with them, but he had managed to pull himself out before ever traveling downstream very far. He had gotten caught in an eddy, which whipped him around into the cliffs, and he had grabbed ahold of a rock and climbed out on the opposite side from where he went in. Since the raging fire and angry slavers were on the other side of the river and way above him, he had just sat on the small ledge until he was certain that no one else was going to jump off, and the fires had burned out a bit. He then shot off an arrow with a guideline, a thin and taut wire, across the canyon and used it to swim back across, where he climbed out the other side. Once there, he skulked around, moving downstream until he found a small cluster of people and decided to trail them.

  “I figured they might have somehow picked up you guys further down river,” Warren explained, looking back over his shoulder as they walked. “Even if they didn’t, there was still a chance I might learn where other groups were that they were working with or even pick up word of Erin and Alyanna or Lord Fox.”

  “Well, how did that turn out?” Madison asked. He had been impressed by Warren’s ingenuity—first escaping the canyon and the raging river and then his willingness to continue ahead with the mission despite the fact that he was alone. Madison had thought it would be impossible to climb up those cliffs, but he had apparently been wrong.

  “I learned a few things, but nothing that I’d rate as good,” Warren explained.

  He had a slight edge to his voice, like he was reluctant to say something
but was going to anyway. Warren got like that from time to time whenever Madison asked a question that was clearly supposed to be a secret or some K’yer Utane legend, and he had learned to recognize it from the scout.

  “Explain,” Madison said simply.

  “Well, I found this.” Warren stopped walking and turned around, holding up something.

  Madison reached out and pulled a small trinket from Warren’s palm. He held it up between two fingers and examined it in the light. “A ring?” he asked curiously. “What does . . . Wait, this is from K’yer Utane.” It was clearly recognizable once he put two and two together, but his brain hadn’t wanted to connect a random ring from a group of would-be slavers with K’yer Utane. If he had seen it while within the compound, it would have been instantly recognizable. Since it was out of place out here, however, it took him a minute to make the connection. “What’s this doing all the way out here?” he asked. “And with a group of thugs?”

  “I don’t know,” Warren answered uneasily. “I actually lifted that off a guy just before I found you. I followed that group all the way up here without ever actually getting close enough to hear anything or make out very many details. Like I explained to Shayna, I can only see so far in the dark since I didn’t learn more than the most basic level of Cat’s Eyes. “That’s why I shot at you when I saw you—I figured you were an enemy scout or a someone else coming after me. It has to have some type of value to them or, at the least, some purpose. We don’t just hand those out to anyone on a whim.”

  “It could have been to seal an agreement of some sort,” Shayna offered. “I’ve heard of people holding someone else’s ring until a payment was made or a promise was kept.”