Traitor for Hire: Mage Code

by Max Irons

  So that's where this was going. "Then Atreus found you?" he asked.

  Tondra bobbed her head up and down on the pillow. "He took me in. He didn't think I was a daemon. He...he promised to teach me, to be a father." She blinked furiously. "Where is he? Why did he leave me?"

  "I don't know, Tondra," Galeron said. "Maybe he got what he needed out of you."

  "No, no, he doesn't do that," she said.

  "Really?" He leaned over her. "Isn't that exactly what he did with Iven and me? He needed extra hands, and he hired them. When they were no longer useful, he got rid of them."

  "You were sell-swords," Tondra said. "He never planned to keep you around. I'm a mage. I'm his apprentice. He wouldn't treat me like that."

  "Wise men often say a man's character is revealed by how he treats those beneath him." Galeron nudged her. "You think we're beneath you." He shrugged. "It doesn't bother me, but if Atreus will treat us like this, doesn't that tell you what kind of a man he is?"

  Tondra turned her head, pointedly looking away from him. "He always treated me well."

  "No. He rewarded you like a hunter rewards his dogs, but they're only useful for one task. Once the hunter is finished, he doesn't need the dogs anymore." Galeron shifted his weight on the bed. "Atreus used you for your strength. He doesn't need it. His plans don't need that."

  "It isn't true," Tondra said, looking back at him. "He needs me. I have to break down the gates."

  Aha! "You're very good at that," Galeron said. "What makes these gates so special?"

  "Harracourt's gates are the strongest in Broton." Tondra's eyes widened. "He needs me to get him inside."

  There. Atreus's plans. Galeron fought to keep a smile off his face. Couldn't give away the game now. He nodded, keeping his expression impassive. "Of course. Harracourt. Atreus is going back to take his revenge on the king."

  "He's bringing his revenge with him," Tondra said. She yawned.

  Galeron suppressed the urge to shake her. What did she mean? "Bringing it? Why go to Harracourt if not to kill the king?"

  She smiled, eyes starting to close. "Killing the king is only the first step. Atreus is going to create a kingdom where mages won't be hunted. It's going to be so..." She yawned again. "...peaceful." Her eyes closed.

  Boiling bones, she couldn't fall asleep now. Galeron nudged her again. "Tell me, Tondra, if I wanted to be part of the peaceful world, where would I go?"

  Eyes half opened, Tondra tried to focus on Galeron's face, but her gaze kept slipping. "Tearlach Cave." With that, she slipped into unconsciousness. Galeron shook her again, but she didn't respond.

  He frowned and stared at her. Caves? There were no caves around Azura. It was all flat plain, wasn't it? Still, at least now they knew Atreus's plan. He was headed back to Harracourt, but why? What would make a return trip worth it?

  Iven poked him. "What're you thinking about?"

  Galeron ignored him for the moment. To one of the soldiers, he asked, "Are there any caves around here?"

  The soldier nodded. "There's a network of sea caves about five leagues north. Do you think that's what she was talking about?"

  Galeron shrugged. "Who can know?" He stood and collected his sword. "Let's go, Iven."

  "Where, and why are we leaving free beds?" asked Iven.

  They exited the infirmary, and Galeron stopped. The kingdom, the prince, and Atreus's promise. Things came into focus, like mountain mist revealing a valley below. He checked the door, shut as it needed to be, and turned to Iven.

  "I had a thought," Galeron said. "Tondra mentioned Atreus was going to make a kingdom where mages weren't hunted."

  "Right," Iven said. "Where are we going with this?"

  "What did we learn today?" asked Galeron.

  Iven cocked his head. "That you are a little unnerving when questioning someone?"

  Galeron sighed. "No. We learned--" his voice dropped to a whisper, "--that anyone can be a mage."

  "Yes. Where is this going?"

  "Iven, really? It's so clear now." Galeron ran a hand through his hair.

  Iven looked up at the night sky. "Give it to me in easy bites."

  "We've been wondering why Atreus kept the prince alive, and then we wondered why he came all the way here for Kyra's knowledge." He swallowed. "The only explanation I have is...he's going to turn Prince Lattimer into a mage."

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Iven didn't say anything for a long time. The sea breeze whistled in Galeron's ears as Iven's face performed all sorts of contortions as he rolled the idea around in his mind. He took off his hat and spun it on one finger.

  "No, not buying it," Iven said.

  "Why not?" asked Galeron.

  Iven sighed. "Think about it. How could he plan all of this ahead of time? We all just learned this information yesterday...or today...whenever. He would have had to know all of it from the start."

  Galeron paused. Was he giving Atreus too much credit? He shook his head. "No, it fits. If Soren believed Lattimer was alive, he'd rip apart Broton to find him. Atreus fakes the prince's death to keep the king from sending hordes of riders after him, leaving us behind to take the fall. Atreus assumes Soren will torture us for information on the Drakes, and he makes his getaway while the king's busy, planning to demand...whatever it was he wanted to start out with...on a later day."

  "Except he accidentally hired a figure from legend," Iven said.

  "Right. Atreus couldn't have known it was me," Galeron said. "I'm the flaw in the plan, and then, when Atreus learns of Kyra's discovery, the plans change. Suddenly, he can put Lattimer back with the powers of a mage."

  "I...I...that's insane."

  "I thought so, too, but do you have a better explanation?" Galeron started to pace up and down the length of the infirmary. "Think about it. If Atreus kills Soren and puts himself on the throne, you'd have a massive revolt from the Broton army, but if he turns Lattimer and then kills Soren, Lattimer is the legitimate king who happens to be a mage. He's not going to continue the practices of his father if his life is at stake."

  Iven stopped spinning his hat and started tossing it in the air. "Somehow, I don't think it's going to be that simple. What do we do, then? If you're right, the Drakes will just take Lattimer back to Harracourt for us. We wait for them there, capture Atreus, and take him to the king."

  "That won't work."

  "And why not?"

  Galeron stopped. "We'll be laughed out of the throne room, for one. Remember, no one else knows what we do."

  Iven caught his hat. "Us, a few dozen rebels, and a firespeaker who happened to be within earshot. Of course, no one else knows."

  Now wasn't the time for joking around, but Galeron bit his tongue. Losing his temper would do nothing but cause problems. "No one at Harracourt knows. All of this hangs on Kyra's translations..." He paused. "Come to think of it, we don't even know if they're true."

  "What do you mean?" Iven asked.

  "We've never seen it work," Galeron said. "Neither has anyone else. For all we know, Kyra could be crazy and have made it all up."

  Iven frowned. "Do you really believe that?"

  "No," he admitted, "but it has to be considered. We're dealing with the unknown. We know for certain that becoming a mage, whether everyone can do it or not, requires a near-death experience...usually, at any rate."

  "True," Iven said. "We've had mages confirm that."

  "We also know, or at least figure, that it has to take serious strength of will to survive it," Galeron said. "Otherwise, everyone would be a mage."

  "Also true."

  Galeron scratched his head. "Which means we've got a larger problem. Whether or not Kyra's right, Prince Lattimer may not survive the transformation."

  "That would ruin our chances of getting back in the king's good graces," Iven said.

  Boiling bones, but was that ever an understatement. If King Soren discovered they'd let his son be turned into a mage, or be killed in the attempt, thoughts of pardons would go on
the chopping block with their necks. Galeron leaned against the wall.

  "If we wait for Atreus to surface at Harracourt, Lattimer might be a mage, and we can't have that. They might also succeed, and that's a problem," Galeron said.

  "How so?" Iven shrugged. "It doesn't sound all bad to have a mage as king. They haven't caused huge problems in Raya for a long time."

  "This isn't a mage problem so much as a coin problem," said Galeron. "If Soren dies, we don't get paid, we don't eat, and we end up right back where we were at the start of all this."

  Iven snorted. "Well, you do. I'll just have to go back to seducing dinner out of women."

  Galeron rolled his eyes. "The point is we can't just do nothing, and we can't play a waiting game. We'll have to go with your plan."

  "And which one was that?"

  "The one where we sneak in and get the prince back."

  "Oh." Iven nodded, and then held up a finger. "We might know where they are, but Tondra's information could be muddled by poppies. What happens if she's wrong?"

  Galeron shrugged. "Then we're in deep trouble anyway. She might be wrong about all of it. There's no way to know, and I'm not about to treat her like a Delktian prisoner." He shuddered. "Reports weren't considered valid unless you tortured it out of them. I've seen more than enough of that."

  Iven put his hat back on and glanced at the eastern horizon. Faint light emanated from the edge of the sea. "Let's get moving then. I have to get up at the end of this watch and go to work."

  They walked back to the wreckage of Rand's shop, but he and his family were nowhere to be seen. Shattered wood still smoldered and steamed, but the fire and smoke had long since dissipated. Galeron shifted blasted pieces of wood and clay roof tiles to pull his shield and war ax out. Their bags of supplies were squashed, but Iven insisted that a flat carrot tasted better than a regular one. Galeron pulled on his arming doublet, now worn thin from wear and travel. Better than just a bare tunic.

  "Do you know where we're going?" asked Iven as they walked down the main road.

  "No, but if they're sea caves, and the soldier said they lie to the north, all we have to do is follow the coast." Galeron stepped out of the way of a merchant and his donkey. "Simple enough, right?"

  "I suppose." Iven shook his head. "It just seems like we're moving a bit faster than normal. I'm wondering if maybe we need to stop and think for a moment."

  "This coming from you?" he asked. "Usually I'm the one saying that."

  "Maybe you're rubbing off on me."

  "We don't know when Atreus is going to attempt this," Galeron said. "He got the information yesterday morning, and it probably took him part or most of the afternoon to get from here to the caves. Assuming he stayed up all night reading, he might try something as early as this afternoon, and we have to be there to stop him."

  "Very well." Iven grabbed Galeron and dragged him off to a merchant. "But I need to get a new bow before we go anywhere. I'll use my knives if I have to, but I prefer to keep enemies at a distance. A long distance."

  Iven spent the last of their coin on a good yew longbow. He strung it and drew it back to his ear as they walked towards Azura's main gate, which had just opened for the morning.

  "Nice and supple, not too much give in the limbs." He grinned. "I need to ask him where he harvests his saplings."

  They followed the coastline north as the sun rose. Galeron smiled with relief as clouds populated the morning sky, shielding them from yet more sunburns. His skin itched and peeled, still bright red from the convoy trip, and his limbs ached with a dull pounding from too many nights of little sleep, or maybe that ache came from fear. Most men complained of worms in their stomachs before a battle. Galeron's limbs would ache in time with his pulse as anticipation grew.

  The coast sloped upward the further they walked, rising into a gentle embankment that separated the grassy inland from the sandy beaches. The roar of the surf followed them every step of the way, and its consistency and rhythm dragged Galeron's eyelids half shut. Some part of his mind went back to the infirmary bed and, by trick of his mind, brought the feeling of the straw pallet against his back. He could almost touch the rough-spun sheets that covered it, trace the coarse grooves of thread.

  Galeron shook his head and suppressed a groan. Should've taken Iven's advice. Best not to tell him that, though. His head was big enough as it was.

  The drop off between grass and sand steadily grew. By midday, it had turned into a steep tumble as tall as a two-leveled building. They stopped for lunch as the wind kicked up and ate what was now smoked carrots and very smoked pork from Rand's convoy stock. As they finished up, Iven looked over his shoulder and pulled Galeron flat against the ground.

  Iven put a hand over his mouth and gestured toward something with his eyes. Galeron rested his chin on the ground and looked. A man in a gray arming doublet much less worn than his walked across their field of vision, carrying a crossbow over one shoulder. How hadn't he seen them? The tall grass provided some cover, but it wasn't tall enough to hide movement.

  "He's going to find us," Iven whispered.

  The man walked past them, reached some predetermined point, and turned to head back. This time, however, his path would take him right in front of them.

  "I can't get my shield off," Galeron said. "It'll take too long."

  "If you rushed him, he'd get his shot off before you could strike," Iven said.

  He slowly nudged his hat off his head and pulled a bow string from his hair. Rolling onto his back, he reached for his bow, and the arrows in his quiver clattered with the movement. Galeron snuck a glance up at the patrolling man. His gaze slid over the patch of grass they lay in. Galeron looked back to Iven, who wrestled to get his bow strung, using his feet to hold one end while he dragged the other notch down to meet the string's loop.

  "Got it."

  "Good." The patrol drew closer. "I'll draw his attention." Inhaling sharply, Galeron got to his feet and raised his hands in the air. "You caught me."

  "What are you doing up here?" asked the man, drawing his crossbow level with him.

  Galeron glanced about. "Looking for a good fishing spot?"

  "Where's you're pole, then?" The man laughed. "You're a terrible liar."

  Iven popped out of the grass, arrow nocked. The man turned, but Iven had it fully drawn as the man reached for his trigger. The bow let out a deep strumming noise as the arrow jumped from Iven's fingers and buried itself deep in his target's throat. The crossbow hit the ground, bolt discharging harmlessly over the beach. The man reached for his neck, gagging and coughing before he hit the dirt and expired with a final rattle.

  "We're bow fishing," Iven said.

  Galeron's shoulders dropped. No alarms raised. "What are you talking about?"

  Iven gave him a funny look. "He asked you where your pole was. I told him we were bow fishing." He shook his head. "I thought it was a good joke."

  "If you say so."

  Iven unstrung his bow and collected his arrow from the man's corpse, wiping off the blood in the grass. "These things don't just grow anywhere, you know." He put it back in his quiver. "I wasn't about to waste one of my bodkins on him."

  "Why didn't you just choose a broadhead?" asked Galeron.

  "I was busy saving your life."

  They continued up the slope and topped a small knoll. Galeron peered over the edge and saw an inlet, presumably the mouth of the sea cave, far below them. He frowned and scratched his head. The guard hadn't been wet at all, so there must be some other way to get from the cave to the top of the cliffs. He turned away.

  "Look for anything unusual," Galeron said.

  "Such as?" asked Iven.

  "Mounds that shouldn't be there." Galeron kicked at a tuft of grass that looked too thick, but it was just a strange growth. "Edges of a trap door, disturbed grass. We don't know if this place is a constant hideaway for them or a recent endeavor. They might have several ways in and out that don't involve the water."

 
; Iven nodded and walked around the area, head bent and eyes narrowed. Galeron did the same, poking at strange patches of earth, but he found nothing. It was, admittedly, a very wide area to search, and something as simple as a trap door covered in dirt and grass might be overlooked with relative ease. He drew his sword and stabbed at a disturbed patch of the tall grass.

  Nothing. The blade sank into the earth without issue. Galeron withdrew it and wiped the dirt off on his trousers. He tried the same thing several more times with the same result. No openings, no air tunnels, or even listening posts. Where had that patrol come from?

  His boot snagged on something before breaking free as he stepped. String snapped, but nothing else happened. Galeron frowned. What had that been? He knelt down and examined the piece of twine. One end was staked deep in the ground, not even visible from overhead. After searching for a few minutes, he found the other piece, or where it should have been. Someone had drilled their way through the ground and, if his assumptions were correct, the other piece of twine had slipped into the hole.

  Why would...the question froze half formed in his mind. The twine had to be tied to something below them, an alarm bell or warning chimes. His heart leapt into his throat. This wasn't here by accident. The Drakes would be coming to investigate, likely several of them.

  "Iven, over here," Galeron said.

  He jogged to his side. "Find something?"

  Galeron held up the remnants of the string. "Some kind of alarm, perhaps. They're on their way." He stood and unslung his shield, gripping it tightly in his left hand.

  Iven restrung his bow and nocked another arrow, standing back to back with Galeron. "At least we'll know where the entrance is now."

  Galeron grunted. True enough, but at what cost? "Now the Drakes know we're here."

  He scanned his field of vision. Nothing moved amid the waving blades of grass. A seagull screeched overhead, but there were no other signs of life. Galeron took controlled, even breaths. His palms grew clammy and cold, and his sword slipped in his grasp. Where were they?