by Max Irons
Iven shrugged. "I went down to the docks and took a dive in the sea. Hid in between a Drake boat and the docks." He shuddered. "We'll add tight squeezes to my list of fears. Almost got crushed by the hull a few times. After they settled down, I started picking off Drakes until Atreus got wise and sent Hektor after me."
"How'd you find us?" Galeron asked.
"It turns out that Hektor couldn't use his power in the tunnels," Iven said. "Tight squeezes didn't work well for him either, what with the lack of wind and all. I took a wrong turn and ended up at the firing bay before you got there, and Hektor tossed me out one of the ports. From there, I climbed back up, thankful that it was one of the lower bays."
Galeron shifted and glanced around. Several figures occupied the beds around him. "The prince?"
"Shaken up, a little burned, but fine," Iven said. "He's got a couple of scars he'll be carrying around, but no worse for wear."
"Lonni?"
A door slammed. Iven smiled. "She'll tell you herself."
Footsteps pounded down the infirmary, and Lonni came into view, still in her battle attire. Soot and scorch marks covered her face, but she still smoldered from under them. "Galeron Triste, I'd slap you if you weren't half-dead."
Galeron frowned, but moving his face sent a spark of pain through the poppy's haze so he relaxed. "What's gotten into you?"
"You're a reckless fighter, and if you had died, I'd have brought you back just to kill you myself." She folded her arms and glared at him, but she couldn't hold the look. Iven pulled up a stool, and she sat on it by his bedside, body visible sagging as she exhaled.
"This is how they all end," Iven said, sitting on the pallet by Galeron's feet. He paused, and then said, "Bringing in the royal marines was a new one, and so was storming a rebel stronghold." He paused again. "Actually, this is a first for us, too. Most of the jobs we've done ended with our client dying."
Lonni raised an eyebrow. "You aren't very good at being a sell-sword, are you?"
"Good or bad has nothing to do with it," Iven said. "Hungry, on the other hand? Aye, there you've found the problem."
"What happened?" asked Galeron.
Iven's mouth split into a wide grin. "You wouldn't have believed your eyes." He pointed at Lonni. "She was amazing. One pistolette in each hand, firing away at the Drakes. We battled back to back, and then she took out the last two rebels with one blast from that culverin she had strapped to her back."
Lonni sighed. "It's a mule."
"Apt name. It kicks hard," Iven said.
Galeron bit back his frustration. They had missed his point. "Atreus. Where is he?"
Iven shut his mouth mid-laugh and took a sudden interest in Galeron's bedsheets. Lonni put a hand on Galeron's bandaged palm. "We couldn't find a body. In fact, we don't know what happened after he lit the pyre. We were hoping you could tell us."
Galeron coughed, and Lonni handed him a cup of water from the nightstand next to his bed. Properly sated, he told them of the battle with Atreus. They stared in silence for a long while.
"You didn't actually kill him," said Lonni.
"Atreus was a dog," Iven said. "He's not walking away from that one. Probably just crawled away to die. Maybe now you'll realize you've earned the title of Deathstalker." He grinned. "We could go back and get Atreus's arm. Maybe Arlana would appreciate that as a souvenir."
"Who?" asked Lonni.
Galeron sighed and lay his head back.
"Two mages by your blade," said Iven. "Two felled by a mortal. Wonder what the bards will call you now."
He didn't hear what he said next, as the poppy milk finally claimed him, dragging him into the soft confines of sleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Recovery was a slow process for all three of them, though at times, Galeron swore he wasn't improving at all. With burns on his face, hands, and legs, he required a cleaning process for the first few weeks that was easily more painful than his battle with Atreus.
Small things were considered great victories. The ability to make a fist by three weeks was a milestone. Walking around the naval yard after one month felt like he'd been released from prison. By the time Orson set a day for Galeron to leave the infirmary, Iven had already been out for two weeks, and, much to Lonni's annoyance, his pursuit of anything in a skirt hadn't been dampened by the battle.
On his last day in the infirmary, Prince Lattimer dropped by to see him. He strode into the building clad in a royal blue doublet and black leggings, flanked by several slate-faced members of the baron's personal guard. Galeron jerked as the door slammed and set aside his breakfast of oatmeal. He stumbled to his feet and lowered his head.
"Deathstalker, this visit is unofficial," said Lattimer. "Let's not bother with formality."
Galeron frowned and looked up. What was that supposed to mean? "I beg your pardon, highness?"
Lattimer shrugged and scratched the healing burn on his nose. "Baron Heuse would prefer I didn't roam the city. It causes an uproar whenever princes return from the dead, I'm told."
Galeron nodded. "Such miracles do tend to excite people, highness."
"We both know why I'm here," the prince said.
"I'm afraid I must plead ignorance," said Galeron.
Lattimer sighed. "I'm ignoring the kidnapping part of the tale with the demise of Atreus Luccio. Thanks to you, the Drakes have been nearly wiped out." He shook his head. "I'm referring to Atreus's discoveries, especially magic. We might as well sit."
Galeron sat on the edge of his bed, and Prince Lattimer sat opposite him on another.
"What did you wish to discuss?" asked Galeron.
"Is it true?" Lattimer said. "All he babbled about. That anyone could be a mage, that it's a part of being...human?"
A good question. I wish I knew. "All I can really say, highness, is that it is one of many theories on magic," said Galeron. "Atreus had a partner from the skylands who insisted that the Great Spirit of his people bestowed magic on those of his choosing. The Delktians say anyone can do it. The Brotons believe it's an evil skill, and the Rayans...well, who knows what they think, but they seem to have made peace with it."
Lattimer frowned. "What should I tell my father? If this theory is right, he's persecuting our people over nothing."
Galeron nodded again. The prince was quite astute, more so than he'd been at that age. "I believe it's best if neither of us said anything. We haven't proven it true, and the king would benefit just from having his son back. One Delktian War at a time, highness."
"What should the story be, then?" asked Lattimer.
"That Atreus wanted to use you as a bargaining chip, and he faked your death to make his escape," said Galeron. "It is the truth, from a certain point of view."
Lattimer pursed his lips, stared and the ceiling for a moment, and nodded. "Have you ever given thought to a career in the army? You'd make a good officer walking such fine lines as that."
Galeron chuckled, wincing as his smile crinkled some of the burns. "One war was enough, highness."
The prince arched a brow. "When I'm king and should your mind change, I could use you."
"I appreciate the offer, highness." A sudden thought struck him. "When you next see Princess Arlana, could you give her a message from me?"
Lattimer raised his eyebrows again. "Is it a personal one?"
Galeron shook his head. "Just tell her this: your gift is here."
"Is that supposed to mean something?" he asked.
"Coming from you, highness, it certainly will," Galeron said.
Prince Lattimer departed soon afterward, and Orson released Galeron from his care later that day, though he was still expected to come in three times a week to check for infections. Rand put Galeron and Iven up in his residence free of charge as thanks for saving Lonni's life more than once. Corinna insisted they should stay as long as they liked, which made Galeron truly happy for the first time in a long while. One afternoon, though, while napping in the repaired lean-to, a messenger arrive
d for Galeron and Iven. King Soren had come to Azura and demanded their presence in the baron's keep.
"What should we say?" asked Iven as they stood outside the great wooden doors that led into the keep's main hall.
Galeron shifted uncomfortably. His legs ached from standing and walking so much in one day. "Answer his questions, and we shouldn't have a problem."
The doors opened, and the guards ushered them through. Azura's hall was much smaller than the king's throne room. Soren sat in the baron's chair a short distance from the entrance. A few banners, including the baron's personal colors, hung from the walls, but otherwise it was plain and bare. Prince Lattimer stood in his regal doublet and hose next to the king's right hand, and Baron Heuse, a dumpy sort of man in green, lacy formal wear, stood to the left.
Soren eyed Galeron and Iven as they approached. Iven got down on one knee, but Galeron merely bowed.
"My apologies, your majesty, but if I knelt, I don't think I could get back up again," Galeron said, staring at the stone floor.
Silence reigned for a long while.
Soren gave a small laugh. "Hunting mages has turned you into an old man, Deathstalker."
Galeron looked up. "It is quite taxing on the body and the mind, sire."
Iven got to his feet. "A job for you, your grace, is always worth it."
"Flattery is expected, Master Porter," said Soren. "But it will not bring up the matter of your payment any sooner."
Iven stared at the floor.
"The larger issue at hand is, in fact, that," he continued. "I have heard tales of your exploits from my son, whom I thought dead. I am grateful for his return, but that was not the job I hired you for."
Galeron froze. What was he talking about?
"The mage Atreus has not been brought before me," Soren said. "Thus, your job still stands unfinished."
"Sire, he's dead," said Iven. "If you've heard the stories, you know Galeron chopped off his arm, and he was already in bad shape anyway."
"True, but the terms of your job were clear." Soren glared at him. "You were to bring me the Drake leader alive or dead. I would be satisfied with a rotting corpse, but you have brought me neither. In light of this, you will not be paid."
Iven opened his mouth, and then shut it. Galeron said nothing, but inwardly, the ice that coated his stomach melted in a fire of anger. They had just spent three months of their lives chasing Atreus across the kingdom, rescued the prince, and prevented Soren's own death in the process. How could he not pay them?
"However," the king said. "You did rescue Lattimer, and for that, I will offer you a minor reward." One of the guards tossed Iven a small, jingling sack. "You will not be executed, but treason cannot be worked off a second time. Should I find out that you have transgressed against the crown in future, you will be slain without trial or mercy. You are dismissed."
Galeron and Iven bowed and retreated from the meeting room. Once the doors were firmly shut, Iven turned around and shook his fist at them.
"We burned for that blasted prince, and what does he do? Reminds us that, technically, we didn't fulfill the job." Iven growled and rummaged through the coin sack.
The door opened again, and Prince Lattimer stepped through, his gaze searching.
"Deathstalker," he said.
Galeron raised an eyebrow and inclined his head. "Yes, your highness?"
Lattimer put his hands behind his back. "My father is iron-fisted when it comes to coin. The Delktian Wars left Broton with quite a bit of debt. I'm sure you can understand his desire to save royal funds where possible."
Iven scowled. "Royal budgeting doesn't put food in our bellies, highness."
Lattimer gave him a half smile. "True. My father may not believe my life is worth the coin, but I do." He produced a larger coin purse from behind his back. "In truth, you should be paid much more, but I can only get so much coin from the treasury before it looks suspicious."
The prince handed the sack to Galeron. The pouch had a decent weight to it, much more than the feather-light payment from the king.
"Your highness is too kind," Galeron said.
Lattimer's brow creased. "My highness isn't, actually. I want to do more, but maybe that will take care of your bellies for a while."
Iven grinned at him and bowed. "We are at your service, highness."
The prince regarded him for a long time, and he turned to Galeron. "Best of luck, Deathstalker. I hope our paths cross again."
"Preferably under better circumstances, your highness," Galeron said, inclining his head once more.
Lattimer walked back into the meeting room, closing the door behind him.
"Odd little prince," Iven said.
"He's nearing his sixteenth year," said Galeron.
"Bah, what did any of us know at sixteen?" He stuffed the coin purse in his pocket and turned toward the keep's outer door and whispered in Galeron's ear. "Still, he's a nice enough fellow, and he wasn't wrong about the king. Soren barely gave us enough to get back to Trinetta."
Galeron walked toward the door. "But we aren't going back there."
"No, but it's the principle of the matter," Iven said. "It might get us two nights at a good inn."
"So, we pick bad ones, then."
"Our lot in life." He paused. "Galeron?"
"Hmm?"
"I'm hungry."
Galeron Triste and Iven Porter will return in Traitor for Hire 2.
Congratulations on reaching the end of the book. Now that you've finished Mage Code, what should you do next? Here are some suggestions:
• Review the book on Amazon. Did you like it? Did you hate it? Share your thoughts.
• Follow Max Irons on Twitter or like his Facebook page for snippets from the writing process and updates on coming installments.
But what happens next? I must know!
Calm down. Traitor for Hire 2 is under construction and ought to be out before Christmas. In the meantime, here's an idea of the habitually hungry sell-swords' next adventure. The Princess Arlana ropes Galeron back into the world of informing as he and Iven return to Iven's homeland, Raya. Digging into the gruesome and scandalous murder of a Rayan princess and Broton diplomat, Galeron unearths a plot to restart the Delktian Wars.
About the Author
After learning that dragons only exist in books, Max Irons decided that writing fantasy would be the only way to live out his wild imagination. Max frequently splits his time between writing the rest of the Traitor for Hire series, completing his pre-med courses, and keeping his border heeler Phantom from herding the unruly neighbors. He doesn't go out much, but if the planets align and you're thinking traitorous thoughts, you might see him at a local coffee house in his hometown of Nashville, TN.