The Brothers Three: Book One of The Blackwood Saga

by Layton Green

  The Fens lasted far longer than Will cared to think about. Though the nice parts of the city were even cleaner and more prosperous than back home, New Victoria now felt like a beautiful woman whose fancy clothing concealed a terrible disease ravishing her body.

  The Museum of History of the Protectorate of New Albion had a handsome green limestone façade, and was located in what Will knew as Lee Circle. Instead of a bronze statue of General Robert E. Lee, the center of the grassy circle showcased a bronze replica of Queen Victoria, the gnomish figure sporting a crown and a diamond-topped scepter.

  “She looks the same here,” Val murmured. “Remarkable.”

  As the evening light waned, ushering in dark thoughts about the impending journey in the morning, Will wondered what secrets this last stop would divulge.

  -19-

  With less than an hour before closing, they had to make strategic choices.

  Will found no mention of his father in the museum, but they learned of the discovery of New Albion long ago by an expedition of aquamancers; the appointment of New Victoria as capital due to the port location and the heightened tellurian energies; the wild tales that had trickled back from the Ninth Protectorate; and the uneasy alliance with the mysterious and powerful indigenous kingdoms to the south.

  They also saw plenty of bizarre pieces of history, such as an anti-wizard cult that worshipped a giant snapping turtle, and a favorite pastime called Zelomancy that looked similar to Battle Chess.

  A giant wall map with a timeline of The Realm caught Will’s interest. Albion equated to England, and as they had gathered from Val’s tourist map, New Albion was roughly North America. Though bearing a vague resemblance to the British Empire, with outposts around the world, Will saw no evidence that Albion had ever controlled India or Egypt, both large countries that a caption noted were ruled by a caste of wizard-priests.

  In Europe, Catalonia took the place of Spain, Scandinavia had swallowed Germany and the Low Countries, and Eastern Europe consisted of the Kingdoms of Bavaria, Hungary, and Wallachia. Large African entities included the Kingdoms of Mali, Ghana, and Great Zimbabwe. The Asian heavyweights were the Himalayan Empire and the tongue-twisting Hồng Bàng Dynasty of the Divine Dragon Lord Kinh Dương Vương.

  It was apparent that magic, not technology, had been the driver of empire. There was no mention of gunfire or other advanced weaponry. Druids led the successful defense of Albion against the Romans and other invaders, though the wars lasted centuries and still resulted in heavy outside influence.

  The current date was Post Realm (P.R.) 1980. Will pondered the lack of scientific advances in this world, which the map called Urfe. Did something about the physics of Urfe interfere with certain technologies?

  Or did the wizards simply discourage them?

  A prominent entry called the Pagan Wars caught his attention. The Pagan Wars had ended in 1201 P.R, the same date as the official formation of the Congregation. Exploring the topic further caused Will to whistle, and the others crowded in behind him.

  Val’s voice was full of controlled awe. “I’ve been wondering about the absence of churches in the city. Wizards used to be scattered and disorganized, and the British population—pagan at the time—persecuted the wizard-born. Thousands of mage families were slaughtered, until they banded together and fought back. And get this—the leader of the coalition of wizards who ended the Pagan Wars, the first leader of the Congregation? Myrddin.”

  Lance turned the page and said, “Holy smack—they outlawed religion here, over five hundred years ago!”

  Caleb chuckled. “I’m liking this place more and more.”

  Val paraphrased as he read. “The Congregation allowed the monarchy to remain, though wizards became the true ruling power, and the public worship of deities was prohibited. Less than ten percent of the population remains pagan, concentrated in the Gypsy Diaspora and indigenous peoples.”

  Will folded his arms, thoughtful. He had wondered what sort of religions thrived here, whether powerful clerics existed who could call upon the power of their god. While they had seen history exhibits on druids, influences from Greek and Roman religion, and references to a slew of mythological pantheons around the world, the absence of Christianity and the other major modern religions on Earth was a mystery. Though in the Realm, at least, he thought he had found his answer.

  “Instead of religion stamping out magic and superstition,” Will said, “it was the other way around here.”

  Dusk had settled by the time they returned to their lodging, which Caleb had dubbed “Salomon’s Crib.” Though Mala had said she would take care of supplies, the group fretted over how much gold to bring and what weapons to take.

  Caleb, a staunch pacifist his entire life, refused to bear arms. Val stuck with his staff, Will selected a dagger in addition to his sword, and Lance kept his war hammer. Lance insisted the brothers wear the leather breastplates, and he was the only one who took a shield. Will needed both hands for his sword, and the shields were too heavy for Caleb and Val.

  If this were the beginning of a D&D wilderness campaign, Will wondered, what else would he take? Assuming he was playing his favorite paladin, Maximus the Smiter, then besides his sword and plate mail+2, he would pack a crossbow, healing potions, his compass, a sleeping roll, rations, and a few choice magical items, maybe his Decanter of Endless Water or the always useful Gauntlets of Swimming and Climbing. He would definitely take +1 Bolts of Speed for his crossbow, since wilderness campaigns required effective long-range weapons.

  If Mala were smart, she’d have an archer on the journey. Better yet, a druid or a ranger. But once they got to the castle, they’d need more ground and pound, a couple of fighters and a mage. Maybe an experienced dwarf, in case there was a dungeon—

  God, Will, you’ve got to stop. This is real. Life or death. What you’d be packing for the great campaign back home would be two bags of Cool Ranch Doritos, a six pack of Mountain Dew, and a box of Swiss Cake Rolls. Maybe a case of beer in case your geeky D&D friends decided to get a little crazy.

  What if Mala were injured or killed during the journey, leaving them at the mercy of this world? Corkscrewing his stomach even tighter was the knowledge that he would likely seize up again if danger arose.

  And danger, he knew, would most certainly arise.

  That was the damnable nature of his panic disorder: the very thought of having an attack added to his stress, resulting in a vicious cycle. He stepped outside for some fresh air, trying to ease his anxiety.

  Will knew he was brave, a risk-taker, someone who wanted to experience life to the fullest. These bouts of fear and anxiety made no sense to him. He knew the stress of not having control over his life contributed to the attacks: the constant struggle to make ends meet, not being able to pursue his dreams, his failure to think positive and create your own destiny like those frivolous self-help books preached. Dad’s death and Mom’s catatonia had taken away his safety net, magnifying his own shortcomings.

  But still, Val didn’t have panic attacks. Caleb didn’t have panic attacks. Most of the free world didn’t have panic attacks. So why Will?

  Physician response had been uniform: though linked to stress, panic attacks were a mystery, and the only thing to do about it was to either deal with it, or take a bunch of drugs that Will abhorred and which weren’t effective unless he took enough to turn himself into a zombie.

  He balled his fists and looked down. He was dreading his panic attacks and they hadn’t even left the city.

  Someone put a hand on his shoulder, and he jumped.

  “Thinking about the trip?” Val said.

  “That obvious?”

  “We all are. I assume your medicine didn’t make it over?”

  “I didn’t even have any,” Will said. “I stopped taking it a while ago.”

  Val frowned. “You want to talk about it?”

  “Not really. I guess I just can’t handle life.”

  “The body and mind connection
is a powerful thing,” Val said gently. “You see your panic attacks as a sign of weakness, but I see it as a sign of a superior human being. You feel more deeply than the rest of us. Sometimes your body doesn’t quite know what to do with that.”

  “It better figure it out before I get someone killed.”

  “It will.” Val squeezed his shoulder just like Dad used to do, and Will felt a rush of warmth for his brother. “Come see what Caleb found. You might like the view a bit better.”

  Will placed his hand over Val’s and squeezed it in return.

  In the kitchen, a collapsible metal ladder led to the roof through a hole in the ceiling. Starlight shone through the opening, and Will heard Lance and Caleb conversing above.

  “Caleb found it a few minutes ago,” Val said.

  Will saw a pole with a hooked end lying on the floor. “Clever. I thought that clip in the ceiling was for hanging plants.” He climbed halfway, then paused to examine the ladder hole. “This looks like new construction. No rust, no wear and tear on the hinges.”

  “What about the rest of the place?” Val said.

  “Hard to tell with stone. I think the basic structure’s been around for awhile, but some of the walls and doors look more recent. Probably a reno.”

  As Val narrowed his eyes at the compounding mysteries, Will poked his head through the roof and saw Lance and Caleb holding beer mugs and taking in the view of the spires. A crescent moon breathed silvery light across the sky, and as Will peered over the ledge, he saw rows and rows of golden orb lights illuminating the streets of New Victoria.

  Caleb handed Will a mug. “I found a door to the beer cellar underneath the pantry shelves. We’re stocked. Hey big brother, don’t you have work in the morning?”

  “I called in sick after the client meeting, just in case.” Val smirked. “Had some bad oysters for lunch. If we make our two month deadline, no one will know the difference.”

  “I think Caleb was kidding,” Will said.

  Caleb regarded Val with an amused grin. “The fact that you can possibly think about your career right now is more unbelievable than this city full of wizards.”

  “Goal orientation has never been a challenge for Val,” Will said.

  Val winked. “Just covering all the bases. You going to be okay missing a few shifts at the bar?”

  “I’m not too worried about that.”

  “Yasmina will cover for you?”

  Caleb snorted softly. “I don’t think I’m going to need anyone to cover for me. The only thing up for grabs is what my sendoff will look like, and I’m guessing it won’t be pretty, which is a bummer.” He raised his mug. “I’d rather go out in style, if you know what I mean.

  Val grabbed Caleb by the collar and snarled. “Don’t talk like that.”

  “I’m a pacifist, man. I don’t see myself making it back from this place, and that’s just reality. To your great credit, eldest brother, reality is something you’ve always managed to bend to your will.”

  Val removed his hands from Caleb’s collar and cradled his face. “You’re just as capable as anyone else up here. You just have to believe in yourself.”

  “I do. I know my limits, and I believe in them fully.”

  “I saw what you did with those bracers,” Will said. “Just stay out of harm’s way, use that mad hand-eye coordination if anything comes your way, and you’ll be fine.”

  And besides, Will thought, I’m the one whose chances of making it back alive are slim to none.

  Okay, maybe me and Caleb both.

  Lance snarled. “All of you shut up. The first rule of going into battle is you don’t talk about what could happen. Ever. We’re all coming back in one piece. If something does happen to any of you, it’ll be over my dead body. And I’ve got a big, battle-tested, country-tough, hard-to-kill body.”

  “Lance is right,” Val said, staring at each of his brothers in turn, boosting Will’s confidence by the intensity of his stare alone. “We’re going home. Somehow, someway. All of us.”

  -20-

  The next morning, Val woke Will as the sun crept above the horizon. Everyone looked alert except Caleb, who they found slumped on the kitchen table, an empty jug of ale beside him.

  After coffee, Will shrugged his sword and scabbard onto his back, using a sling he had retrofitted from two of the belt straps in the closet. His stomach felt queasy as they left Salomon’s Crib, the lock clicking into place with a sense of finality.

  Yet it was a beautiful day. The promise of a sunny sky. Oak leaves crunching underfoot. A hint of fall in the air.

  A journey from which the last two parties of trained mercenaries had never returned.

  The cooler air made Will think about the approach of Halloween back home, and how deliciously gothic and eerie New Orleans would look. It was his favorite time of year. He thought about what he might be doing at this very moment: reading a fantasy novel on his balcony, knocking back a BBQ shrimp po’boy, absorbing the Halloween decorations on Magazine as costumed revelers drifted by, wishing the ghosts and witches and cobwebbed haunted houses were real.

  Well, he had gotten his wish. Despite the gravity of the coming ordeal, Will felt buoyed by the promise of adventure and abuzz with the manifestation of his dreams, no matter how twisted they had been.

  Sooner or later, he knew, everyone realized that their wildest fantasy—whatever it may be—had a dark side.

  Mala was waiting at the Minotaur’s Den as promised. A scarlet head-scarf swept her wavy hair off her face. Allira was with her, along with a man and a woman Will had never seen before. Allira put Will at ease with a smile of recognition.

  Mala and her companions carried backpacks. Four more lay on the ground. After Val handed Mala a sack of gold, she examined it and then distributed the backpacks. “We’ll walk to the stables,” Mala said, “and ride from there.”

  “Good morning to you, too,” Will muttered.

  They headed west on Magazine, away from downtown. Will studied his new companions with fascination. The man in the traveling cloak made of fine wool caught Will’s eye immediately. Wearing far more refined clothing than anyone else in the party, he stood out like a CEO in a homeless shelter. He also wore leather riding boots, and his haircut was as polished as Val’s. A sizeable amber ring adorned the middle finger of his left hand.

  Had Mala brought a wizard on the trip?

  The new woman looked younger than the man in the cloak, about Caleb’s age. Leather breeches and a high-necked riding shirt outlined a lithe body. Pixie-cropped auburn hair accentuated mischievous eyes and a waifish, attractive face. A dagger and several pouches hung from her leather belt. The dagger was unusual, three-pronged like a sai but with the two outside blades notched and forming a V. A trident dagger, Will thought.

  They followed Magazine Street until they came to a large stable nestled amid moss-strung oaks and swampy ponds. Stable hands had their horses at the ready. Lance hopped on his animal with skill, giving instructions in a low voice as the brothers flopped onto their steeds. Mala noticed but said nothing. One benefit to the lack of globe-shrinking technology: everyone simply assumed the brothers and Lance were from somewhere far away.

  They rode north until they could see Lake Pontchartrain, then headed east, skirting the developed portion of the city and seeing more of the Fens. Will noticed Mala’s jaw clenching as they skirted those garbage dumps of humanity, a fierce light burning in her eyes.

  They left the great city behind, travelling down a well-maintained road signposted as the Southern Byway. The road was a dusty mixture of crude pavement and cobblestones, sealed with a binding agent.

  Caleb took to riding quite well, but Val struggled. The eldest Blackwood hated to look incompetent, but the more he tried to bend his proud brown mare to his will, the more obstinate the animal grew. Finally Mala trotted to his side.

  “Not used to the horse, wizard? I assume it’s quite a long walk from your village. Did you perhaps fly here, or use one of the new air ca
rriages?”

  “I can ride,” Val mumbled, clenching his reins so tight the tips of his fingers turned white. “This horse doesn’t like me.”

  “Maybe she doesn’t like wizards,” Mala said.

  “Maybe you don’t like wizards.”

  “If that’s so,” she said in that gently mocking tone, “then why is it I’ve brought a geomancer with us?”

  Val gave no physical reaction, but Will’s mind was spinning at the thought of an actual wizard in the party.

  “Because you’re expedient,” Val said.

  Mala laughed. “True. But Alexander isn’t your typical wizard. I’m sure you’ll have ample opportunity to discuss your profession along the way, colleague to colleague.”

  Val didn’t respond, and Mala said, “You’re paying me, and thus I’m unconcerned with your ulterior motives, so long as they do not affect the safety of my party.”

  “Then we understand each other,” Val said.

  “You’ll understand as well, then, why I’ve decided to protect my investment by providing mentors on the journey.” She nodded at the woman in tight leather breeches. “Marguerite is assigned to your taller brother.”

  Of course she is, Will thought.

  “We didn’t discuss this,” Val said.

  “I’m not asking for an opinion. I’m in charge of this party, and I’ll do what I see fit to ensure that safety is maintained and our objectives accomplished.”

  “By objective you mean getting paid,” Val said.

  She looked bemused. “Of course.”

  “What exactly does this assignment entail?”

  “Training for your brothers, to increase their chances of survival.”

  “Caleb chooses not to engage in violence. He has a rare spirit.”

  “And you wish for that rare spirit to survive this journey, no?”