Traitor for Hire: Mage Code

by Max Irons

  "Watch your back, mage!"

  Iven.

  Somehow, he'd found him. The solid air dissipated, and Galeron dropped to the ground as Hektor rushed to Atreus's side.

  "Kill the archer," said Hektor.

  "Come on, stone hands, see if you can catch me," he yelled from the darkness.

  Galeron rushed Hektor and the downed Atreus, but Hektor sent him hurtling through the air. He slammed his right shoulder into the ground, sword and shield flying in different directions. Pain erupted from his collarbone, and he flopped onto his back, shoulder sticking up at an awkward angle. The stars spun in the heavens as his vision shifted in and out of focus.

  "Forget the archer!" yelled Hektor.

  "Get the archer. No, don't get the archer. Do they think you can't handle me?" taunted Iven. "Is it because you're a woman? They think you can't take me?"

  Tondra screamed, and an explosion shook the ground.

  "Missed me!"

  Another shockwave rocked Galeron.

  "Whoops. Missed again!"

  "Now, Tondra!" yelled Hektor.

  The wind kicked up, and Iven fell silent. There was quiet for a few moments before the pounding of horses' hooves shook the night and faded into the distance. Galeron watched the heavens spin until he could no longer hear the hoofbeats. His heart throbbed in his shoulder, and he shifted his weight onto his good arm, sitting up. A flash of pain shot through his clavicle, and he lay back on his side, groaning.

  Boots clomped across the plain. "Well, don't we look amazing?"

  Galeron scowled. "Iven. Got a problem."

  "You don't say? Looks to me like you broke your collarbone." Iven rolled him over and ran a finger gently down his clavicle. Galeron gasped as Iven hit the fracture point. "Found it." He shook his head. "We're going back to Trinetta. You need to see a medicus."

  Galeron groaned. "Wonderful."

  Iven shrugged. "We can do that, or the bone heals wrong and you never wield a sword again."

  "Stop being right."

  "Stop being stubborn and we'll call it even."

  Galeron took Iven's hand and stood, biting down the urge to heave the contents of his stomach as they collected his weapons and walked back to the city. "How'd you find me?"

  "Wasn't hard. All of Trinetta heard the gate burst. I went to investigate, and the guards told me you had already been by." He chuckled. "Finding you on the plane was another matter entirely. I ended up running off in the wrong direction before I caught sight of Atreus's fire and corrected. You know the rest." Iven paused. "An expression of gratitude usually accompanies a rescue."

  Galeron snorted. "You still owe me a lot."

  "Excuse me? Who saved whom back there?"

  "Do we really have to bring up our trip to the Han again?" asked Galeron.

  "Unfair. How was I to know we weren't supposed to touch that statue?"

  "Maybe because they were bowing to it."

  Iven opened his mouth, said nothing, and shut it again. "Fair enough." A long silence passed, and then he said, "It's a real shame women never see me in action."

  "Hoping to impress dinner out of them?" asked Galeron.

  "At least they wouldn't think I was full of it," Iven said.

  "But you are."

  Iven sniffed and lifted his nose in the air. "Galeron, I'm hurt. When you're as dashing and fearless as I am, how can I be anything less than honest? It's not my fault my exploits are tales of legend."

  "Only in your mind."

  "Oh, look, we've made it back."

  Galeron looked up to see the massive gatehouse and shattered doors. It looked like a man's mouth after a tavern brawl. A wall of soldiers stood at the entrance back to back, one side facing the streets inside, and the other facing outward. Iven waved at them with a free hand, and Galeron sighed. Making friends wherever he went. That was Iven.

  "Sergeant Forreau, let us in, please," Iven called.

  "Let him through, men," a gruff voice responded.

  "How do you know him?" asked Galeron.

  "I stopped to talk before I came after you," Iven said. "It's amazing what being friendly will do for a person." He grinned. "I also courted his sister when I was younger."

  Galeron grunted. "You've courted everyone's sister."

  "Envy simply isn't your best feature, you know," he said as they passed through the ranks. "I could give you some tips if you like."

  "No."

  Sergeant Forreau, a balding middle-aged man with a long mustache, shook his head as they moved past. "What did I tell you, Iven? Hunting mages is a fool's errand."

  "I know how much you love to be right," Iven said. He took a deep breath. "Be a kind sergeant and point us to the medicus's quarters."

  "We'll have to wake him up," Forreau said. "Follow me."

  He led them down a side street, much smaller in width than the high street. The buildings and shops leaned out over the pavement, giving Galeron an impression of being in a forest of stone and timber.

  "How's Calandre?" asked Iven.

  "She's gotten over you," Forreau said. "Married a blacksmith in Burnell."

  "That little hamlet? I thought she loved the madness of the city."

  "Guess she loved him more."

  Iven chuckled. "The things we do for love."

  "Or something." Forreau stopped at a cottage nestled between a cooper's shop and an apothecary. He banged on the door. "Mercer, get up. You've got a patient."

  Silence reigned for a moment. Something clattered and burst inside.

  "I'd say he's up," said Iven.

  The door flew open, and a portly man sporting disheveled gray hair and dressed in his white nightshirt down at the sergeant. "Do you know what time it is?"

  "Sometime after second watch," said Forreau. "We've got a man down from mage hunting." He gestured toward Galeron. "There's your patient."

  "He looks fine to me," said Mercer, leaning his forehead against the door frame.

  "He's hunting on the king's orders," said Forreau. "Get your lazy bones moving and fix whatever's wrong with him."

  Mercer let out a long moan. "Fine. Get him on the table before I fall asleep, or I'll just give us both some nightshade and end all our suffering."

  "Tavern life never agreed with you." Forreau shook his head. "Perhaps one day you'll remember that."

  "Spare the lecture until I'm sober enough to remember it," Mercer said.

  Galeron's stomach churned as Iven helped him inside the medicus's quarters. He didn't sound drunk, but manipulating bones was a difficult enough job while fully aware. "Are we sure about this one?" he said.

  "No, but I don't see you having much choice," Iven said.

  "I assure you, even inebriated, I am a more than competent...surgeon and...m-medicus," Mercer said. "Now get on that table."

  Galeron and Iven approached the table standing in the middle of the small room. Galeron slid onto the table using his good hand, and sat on the edge, feet dangling an inch above the floor. Cabinets with little glass panes lined the walls, displaying a variety of surgical equipment, medicine bottles, and other assortments Galeron couldn't discern the purpose of. A staircase spiraled upward off to the left, and the shattered remains of a wine bottle lay at its base, its fruity contents seeping into the floorboards and giving off a distinct, yet sour smell.

  "Will you be requiring anything else?" asked Forreau.

  Galeron shook his head. "Doubtful."

  "What's the game, sergeant?" asked Iven. "You were never this helpful when I was with Calandre."

  Forreau furrowed his brow. "She's my sister, and you're a scoundrel. More importantly, the king has sent missives to most major cities about your hunt. The watches have been ordered to assist in emergencies."

  Galeron shifted his weight on the table, and his collarbone protested. He winced. "Good to know, sergeant. Thank you."

  Forreau sighed. "It's your funeral. Might as well make you comfortable."

  Iven smirked. "King's words?"

 
"My interpretation. Have a good night." He nodded and walked away.

  Mercer shut the door and walked over to Galeron. "What hurts?"

  "He's got a broken collarbone," said Iven.

  Mercer glared at him. "I'll be the..." He swallowed. "...judge of that." To Galeron, he said, "Right or left?"

  Galeron grimaced. "Right."

  Mercer placed his sausage-like fingers on his shoulder and began kneading the bone. A jolt of pain shot up his neck and out the back of his shoulder blade. He grunted and held down the surge of bile that tried to erupt.

  "Feel free to vomit on the floor," Mercer said, continuing the prodding. "It's had worse." He stopped. "Broken clavicle."

  Iven put a hand to his forehead. "Didn't I just say that?"

  "Once you've gone to school for medicine, I will listen to your opinion," Mercer said. "Until then, excuse me if I don't take advice from a sell-sword. Now, soldier, what is your name?"

  "Iven Porter," said Iven.

  "Not your name, his." Mercer moaned. "Why me?"

  "Galeron," said Galeron. "How'd you guess?"

  "High pain tolerance, quiet on the table," Mercer said. "Besides, serving in the Broton army leaves its mark on a man, and after the Delktians, I've seen more than enough veterans."

  "I was a soldier as well," said Iven.

  "A Rayan legionary, no doubt. Only they would allow such lip in the ranks."

  "Complaining is the right of every soldier."

  "Spoken like one, too. Talk to your friend for a moment, and get him out of that doublet and tunic. I'm going to have to set the bone."

  He walked over to one of the cabinets and rummaged through the shelves. Iven looked from him and back to Galeron. "What's our next move?"

  Galeron forced his mind away from the throbbing in his shoulder as he extracted himself from his doublet. Where to go next? "Atreus and the others are supposed to head for Azura," he said. "Tondra got information from Jarek about a teacher in the Consortium who thinks she's discovered the secret of magic."

  "Clearly, not something we want Atreus to have," Iven said.

  "Right." He paused, still not sure how to process the next bit of information. Best to get it out in the open. "Atreus also has Prince Lattimer, alive and decently well."

  Iven raised an eyebrow. "He died, remember? Are you sure you weren't hallucinating?"

  "No, this was before the fight started," Galeron said. "Somehow, the prince lives."

  Iven fell silent, his face twitching. "Maybe Hektor pulled the same trick twice?" he asked. "If he could do it for three people jumping, he could do it for one prince."

  "You don't sound surprised."

  "I'm Rayan. I'm used to magic and weirdness," said Iven. "Besides, this job isn't a normal one." He pulled off his hat and scratched his head. "Azura, huh? Birthplace of night dust."

  Galeron frowned. "I didn't know that. How did you?"

  Mercer snorted. "Every Rayan lad goes to school once a week until his..." He yawned. "...tenth year. I see your education was well spent."

  "Bah. They taught me to read, as useful as that is in my line of work." Iven ruffled his hair. "Haven't read anything longer than a tavern sign since I left."

  Mercer handed Galeron a piece of thick boiled leather, surface riddled with bite marks. "I suggest you put that in your mouth. Waking the dentist at this hour would be more dangerous than waking me. He bought a firelock he's eager to try."

  Galeron put the leather in his mouth and clamped down on it, shades of the salt and vinegar used to create it filling his mouth. He inhaled and exhaled through his nose, relaxed his muscles, and closed his eyes.

  "Good, you've done this before," Mercer said. "Brace his back and make sure he can't lean away. Keep talking."

  "Things I'm good at," Iven said.

  Iven's hands pressed into his upper and middle back. Mercer ground a few herbs together with a mortar and pestle.

  "If the prince lives, why the charade?" Iven asked.

  Galeron grunted. He'd been asking himself the same question since finding out. What was the point?

  "They could have all jumped as one and spared us the theatrics. It doesn't make sense," Iven said.

  "Wait, drink this," Mercer said, handing him a up with a greenish liquid sloshing about. "It'll help with the pain."

  Galeron spat the leather into his free hand and placed it on the table. "Shock, maybe." He drank the liquid, which had the taste of grass and molded bread, and put the leather back in his mouth.

  "I guess that's a possibility." Iven rubbed his chin. "But if revenge was the plan, killing Lattimer makes sense. It's a match, an equal loss for both parties. Keeping him alive for ransom doesn't make any sense. Even if they needed the money, and they might, there's no way King Soren would ever pay up. He'd hunt them himself until his skeleton fell from the saddle."

  Mercer pressed on Galeron's collarbone and jerked it to the right. Galeron screamed into the leather. White light flared in his vision as his bones ground together in a crunching agony, but the pulsing in his shoulder stopped after a moment. The pain ebbed and flowed, and the light diminished as the bones slid back into place. Sweat beaded on his forehead and ran down his cheeks. Breath came heavy and fast through his nostrils as Mercer wrapped a tight bandage around his shoulder.

  "Keep it on for at least four weeks," he said. "The bones will be held in place as they heal, and you must keep your arm in a sling for at least twice that length."

  Galeron spat out the leather again. "That long?"

  "Unless you want to rebreak it," Mercer said. "Even after you take the sling off, your shoulder won't be fully healed. From there, you must stretch it every few hours to prevent stiffness and other issues in the future."

  Galeron frowned. "So be it."

  Mercer tied off the bandage and helped Galeron get back into his tunic before fastening the sling around his arm. His limb hung suspended across his chest, leaving only his left free. He sighed. A long road lay ahead in more ways than one.

  "I believe your injuries speak for themselves," said Iven. "We're going to need a bit of help to move forward."

  "Hunting mages. You're both insufferably mad," said Mercer. He handed Iven a few spare bandages. "If there are no other broken bones to attend to, I'd like to go greet the inside of my eyelids."

  "I appreciate your help," said Galeron.

  Mercer grunted and hauled himself to the door. "Yes, yes, I've heard it all before, but it's time to go."

  Galeron and Iven exited the medicus's shop. The door slammed and locked behind them.

  Iven stared at it with raised eyebrows. "Cheery sort. Wonder what he's like sober."

  "I don't think we want to know," said Galeron.

  "Where are we going, exactly?" asked Iven. "We can't take the king's highway by ourselves. Walk down that route with a wounded man, and you might as well sound a trumpet and ask to be robbed."

  Galeron bit the inside of his mouth. A good point. With most of the king's army occupied by the Black Drakes, the patrols on main roads had slackened. Bandits were a plague on the merchants. Merchants who might take free service.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Trinetta never slept. Galeron and Iven strolled around the horse paddocks in the merchants' quarter. Stable hands rushed about, leading their mounts by the bridle toward the appropriate carriages or carts. Merchants drew their wares into a long formation, five or six carts deep surrounded by mercenaries of varying skill sets. The only safe method of travel would be in one of these convoys, especially with his injuries, but so far, every merchant had declined their services, despite the offer of free labor.

  "It's that sling," Iven said. "Who's going to hire a sell-sword with a broken arm?"

  Galeron shrugged his left shoulder. "Can you really blame them?"

  "No, good business and all that." Iven pulled off his hat and ran a hand through his tousled hair. "But still, it doesn't help our cause any."

  "Can't go anywhere else either," Galeron said. "Th
ese are the only groups going south."

  "If it were winter, we'd be in good shape," Iven said. "There'd be lots of snow, and everyone would be trading at warm Azura. Rotten luck."

  Galeron knit his eyebrows together. There had to be a way to join a convoy. "Maybe we're looking at it wrong."

  "How's that?"

  "What if we didn't go as mercenaries? What if we approached the wagoners and drivers and asked to provide free labor, not just protection."

  Iven squinted at him in the predawn light. "You mean, I'm offering free labor. You can't do a thing like that."

  "You've got a better idea?" he asked.

  "Ah, no."

  "Best get to asking, then."

  Iven stared at the sky before putting his hat back on. "Mother always said I was better off doing honest work."

  Galeron gave him a half smile. "There you go."

  They returned to the convoys. Iven approached one of the drivers. "A good early morning to you."

  The driver, sitting up in his seat, eyed him and grunted. "Lies."

  "Do you have work that needs attending?" asked Iven. "We...that is I, with some help from my friend, will be happy to do whatever might be lacking."

  "Suppose you want payment," the driver said.

  "Nothing more than to travel in the safety of your caravan," said Iven. "We need to get to Azura and have no wish to travel the roads alone. We have our own food and water and will cost nothing more than just a bit of space."

  The driver grinned at them. "You might regret that choice." He looked over his shoulder. "Rand, got some new hands for you."

  A man jogged up to the wagon. "Geoffrey, you called?"

  Geoffrey pointed at Iven. "They've offered their services to anyone needing it."

  He wiped his hands on his leather smock and extended one to Iven. "Pleasure to meet you. Rand Tomkin's the name."

  Iven shook. "Iven Porter, and this is my friend Galeron."

  "What'd you do to your arm, Galeron?" asked Rand.

  "Picked a fight with the wrong person," Galeron said. No need to spread any more word than they had to about the mission.