by B J Hanlon
Edin instantly pictured his nightmare. Was it warning him?
As the other guards disappeared into the barracks, Grent sheathed the sword and started toward Edin with long determined strides.
Edin began backing up. He reached for the front door and yanked it open. The voices grew louder. He wanted to look back, see what was happening but couldn’t. Grent’s feet were pounding on the porch.
He clambered up the stairs, the steps groaning as he went. He shoved his door closed and dove to pull out his rook sack from under his bed. Next to it, was Dexal’s hunting knife he picked it up and turned. No Grent. He waited with his blade aimed at the door. Little it would do against the head guard.
But still Grent didn’t show.
Edin glanced out of his window toward the forest. Normally he liked the view but now he wanted to know who was coming down the walk. If he made a break for the forest, he knew the woodsmen would track him in hours. There were no boats on the river and if jumped in for any length of time he’d freeze to death, that wasn’t considering the rocky bottom and the current that could break him on any number of boulders.
Edin threw trousers and tunics into the bag and slung on his green cloak.
He couldn’t ask his mother or Master Horston, even if they were okay with his curse. What could they do? Horston was old and despite his mother’s brains and cunning she couldn’t stop a mob from murdering him. The mere suspicion of magecraft or witchcraft or whatever term someone wanted to use, stirred fear and hatred in people. From the rising cacophony of shouts and feet crunching the gravel lane, it was clear what was coming. The mob.
Even if they weren’t sure he was a mage, he’d have to run. The looks, the whispers. Dexal already tried to kill him, who would be next?
Edin ran toward the door and flung it open. He stared at Grent. Beneath the man’s mustache he could see a frown. Edin started to back away and Grent seized his arm with such force he was sure bruises would appear.
“Let go,” Edin grunted, though he didn’t have power to command anyone. These men were mercenaries. They guarded the manor for an easy paycheck then left when they feel like they’d made enough. All of them except Grent.
He put a finger to his lips. “Relax, it’ll be over soon.”
Edin closed his eyes and took a breath, he was ready to feel the blade slice through his chest and puncture his heart. Hopefully it’d be quick. Maybe they wouldn’t draw and quarter his body since he just found out he was a mage.
As he waited nothing came, then the image of his dream appeared. The mage hunter in dark black laughing at him as he started the fire. The crowd demanding his charred corpse.
“I will not be burned alive,” Edin yells pulling away, somehow his arm slipped from Grent’s grip and he fell backward into the bed.
Grent appeared next to him almost faster than he realized and Edin felt a slap across his face. “Listen and don’t be stupid.”
An instant later his insides twisted then pushed. Grent, the bed, and his dresser were all flung into the walls with loud crashes. The room was glowing as a white bubble surrounded him.
“Stop that,” Grent huffed, his voice muffled. “You need to act normal.” He muttered a curse under his breath. “Horston… he is trying to pacify them.” Edin noticed the shouts had stopped.
It took a moment, but Edin released the pressure and felt himself tire. The bubble disappeared as quickly as it came.
Grent ran his fingers down his armor and checked his body.
“Bloody mages… I woke the old man when I saw the constable. Until the mob is calmed, we keep quiet and out of sight.” He reached into the hallway and grabbed something. A moment later he produced a long and narrow bundle.
“I know you’ve been practicing, but you’re not proficient. If Horston can delay them, we can leave after they disburse… and you’ll need to know how not to stab yourself.” Edin grabbed the package from Grent. As he removed the cloth he found a beaten-up brown leather scabbard holding a sword. The hilt was clearly very worn.
Edin furrowed his brow. “What do you mean leave?”
“Leave… I mean leave. What do you think? You can’t stay here. We don’t have a lot of time.”
Edin pulled his rook sack over his shoulder. Grent frowned. “We?” Edin said. A loud howl from multiple people reverberated through the house. It felt almost like a battle cry. Just as quickly it went silent.
Grent slipped out of the bedroom and moved across the small hall to an empty guest bedroom. He went in first without lighting any lamps. The sidelong glow from the sun barely penetrated the window. Grent moved to the left of the window, Edin followed a few inches behind.
Outside, it looked like a revelry, easily three dozen people, possibly more. Almost all of them were men.
The low droning of Master Horston’s lecture voice crept up to them. Edin tried to bet a better look.
“Keep out of sight,” Grent said roughly pushing him into the empty bed.
Edin slumped back into the shadows and gazed at the mob. In the firelight he knew a few of the faces, healer Dougan, Jassir the blacksmith, Kes’ father and the tailor who fixed his clothes. With the number of rips and tears Edin had brought to him over the years, he was certain to be a favorite customer.
In front was Dexal’s father, thin and tall with a perfectly trimmed mustache and off to his side was a man in a dark cloak.
A large red-haired man pushed through the crowd to the front, he towered over everyone. There was no mistaking him. Berka’s father, Vistach. He stopped a few feet away and put his hands on his hips.
“My wife and son are held hostage with an abomination in this house, free my kin and give us that… thing. Do this and we will spare you and the servants,” Vistach said.
His voice was cold, his face firm. Edin shivered looking at the man who treated him like another son. The constable helped him out of trouble, gave him advice on life, work, freedom, respect, and especially girls. Edin asked once how he should approach Kesona.
“Carefully, that one seems feisty,” Vistach said with a smile and a wink under his thick red eyebrow.
“Your family are not hostages,” Master Horston said, “they are guests in this house. Your son hasn’t fully recovered from the beast. I would not recommend it, nor would Healer Dougan…”
“There is an abomination in that house!” The healer called back.
“I believe you are confused… however, if you wish, feel free to take Master Berka home. I do think that the beds here are much more comfortable than the rug he sleeps on at your cottage, dear constable.”
“Don’t mock me old man,” Berka’s father spat. “I do what I can for my family.” His face was growing redder and his jaw tensed.
“I was not mocking you at all my friend,” Master Horston said in the drawling superior tone Edin had been subjected to many times. “You are a grand man.”
“Then you will free them?”
“They have always been free,” Master Horston said. “I can have some of the guards carry your son to you, however, he still hasn’t spoken.”
Dougan stepped forward next to Vistach. “I have seen his eyes moving. He’s in there, it doesn’t matter where he rests, and he will recover in his own time.”
Edin felt a small sense of relief as a smile cross his lips, Berka was alert.
“As you wish,” Master Horston said. “Now, if we are done here, I’d like to get back to bed. It is far too early for this nonsense.”
The dark cloaked man stepped forward, he pulled down his hood to reveal a clean-shaven head. His head raised as he began peering at the upper windows. His eyes seemed to rest on Edin’s, though there was no way he could see him.
“Wait,” the man said his voice booming over the crowd. “Give us the abomination and we leave in peace.”
“A Justicar…” Grent muttered. “We gotta go.”
Edin felt a tug on his shoulder and glanced at Grent.
Horston continued. “Vistach, y
ou are a constable; therefore, you should know that any crime needs evidence.”
“I am aware.”
“Not that of an abomination…” the Justicar said.
“And what makes you certain he would be? Rumor? I thought you people would be able to tell truth from lies… and yet you believe the drunken rabble that permeates the tavern.”
“We have our test…”
“And is the stone here?”
“I will bring him to it.”
Dexal’s father raised a long sword toward the house. “Murderer, come out!”
Horston ignored him. “You will bring it to us. We do not trust you nor that mob…”
“He’s stalling,” Grent said, he reached for the rook sack on Edin’s shoulder and tore it off. “There is a prepacked one in the cellar,” Grent said. “Beside the weapons, the rest of that isn’t going to help you. Now let’s go.”
“My clothes?”
“Travel clothes are packed, your mother prepared it days ago.”
Edin nodded, he couldn’t believe what was happening. His heart sank. He was leaving. Grent grabbed his bicep, the injured one. Edin flinched as he was dragged down the hall.
A few steps down the hallway he stopped and glanced at Berka’s room. They had to move, but first he had to see his friend. Edin yanked free and opened the door.
“No time,” Grent said.
“I must see him,” Edin said. The hinges squealed. Basked in the dim light of a small flame, he saw his friend’s red hair and pale face. A rolled-up bed roll was on the floor next to a dirty wash basin and a few wooden plates.
“They stayed in here for days?” Grent nodded, Edin walked over to Berka and put a hand on his friend’s. “Why didn’t they come out?”
“She did, after I assured her you were asleep.”
Edin took a deep breath and made a fist. No one wanted him here, they all thought he was a monster, as evil as a crillio.
“I’m sorry this happened to you.” Edin said to Berka, “I tried.”
Berka’s eyes started to open, he blinked a few times. Edin didn’t know what to say, he swallowed a lump in his throat and grinned.
“Hey there oaf,” Edin teased, “feeling a bit woozy, too much of a good time with old lady Freta? I hear she makes a mean stew after... is that true?”
Berka’s eyes blazed open, his pupils dancing around like he was frantically searching for a fly. “Ahhba…”
Grent appeared next to Edin and punched Berka so fast he wasn’t even sure he really saw it. The thwack made it true. Berka was unconscious on the bed. Edin didn’t even know where Grent had come from. “We need to go, now.”
“How did you…” Edin started.
He grabbed Edin’s forearm and began dragging him toward the stairs.
“Where would we go? There are dozens of them, they have dogs and can track us,” Edin said when he reached the bottom.
“Not yet they won’t. Not until Berka is in their care,” Master Horston said appearing in the doorway. “The Justicar just left, he will be back though…”
“My men?” Grent said.
“Guarding the entrance.” Horston said. “Now, through the kitchen… go.”
Grent yanked his arm again almost pulling it out of its socket.
Master Horston glanced back toward the door and called out. “Mister Berka is in the first room to the right at the top of the stairs. “
The door swung open and Grent closed it silently. The kitchen was empty, ingredients sat on the counter, dried herbs hung around the room like a garland, a half drank cup of coffee steamed on the table.
“Where are the servants?” Edin said.
Grent shrugged, normally they’d be up cooking or cleaning. There was always a clattering of pots and a sizzle of something fried. A few moments later Master Horston appeared again.
“I bought us some time. The idea about the haunted grove possibly being magic worked on the drunken fools… the Justicar though will verify soon if we’re still here.”
“Why is the councilman here?” Grent asked.
“He wants to kill the person who murdered his son.”
Grent looked at Edin as he felt the blood rush from his face. “Tell him to get in line.” Grent said.
Horston looked from one man to the other. “Oh, gods bless us, we need to go wake up Laural”
4
The Last of the Line
His mother was in the kitchen moments after Master Horston said her name. Her face was scrunched and she had the intense look that she usually held for him when he did something unbecoming of a gentleman.
“You’re packed?” she asked. Grent nodded and glanced at Master Horston who returned the gesture.
“The cellar, quickly.”
She moved around them toward a small nook in the kitchen. Master Horston followed with Edin and Grent behind.
They went through the dry pantry to the small staircase at the rear.
Grent shut the door quietly behind him. “Go, I’ll follow in a minute.” Grent started to grab dried fruits, breads, and smoked meat from the pantry and shoved them in an old potato sack.
His mother and Master Horston were whispering below in the cold storage cellar. Fresher meats, wine, cheese, and ale were kept down there as well as vegetables and fruits that were best eaten crisp.
“Some seemed to believe me… they have the manor surrounded and won’t enter until Berka is freed. There’s a Justicar riding to town for the stone… we maybe have twenty minutes.”
Edin thought of Berka’s face when he woke. The look of horror. He knew his best friend was trying to say abomination.
“To do what?” Edin asked as he moved around a large barrel of wine. The cellar had a dirt floor and low ceilings. Edin had to slouch to miss the ancient wooden beams.
“To escape.” Horston said. “Then they’ll burst in, Dexal’s father will want revenge even if I had convinced them you were not a magus.”
Edin felt like his mind had just started spinning in ten different directions. Dexal is dead, the boy wanted to murder him in the streets… or backyard with no trial. If Dexal succeeded and was caught, no one would say anything. Now a mob was out front, one of people he’d known his entire life. He remembered the look on Kesona’s face, a girl that once said she loved him.
His past was gone, sheared off like a razor to a piece of parchment.
His mother, Master Horston, and for some reason Grent were the only ones who didn’t look at him for what he was. A monster. His brain whirled and he suddenly felt exhausted. It was as if he hadn’t slept at all the night before.
“Escape to where?”
“The isle, like I told you,” Master Horston sighed, “I swear it’s just like your studies, I need to tell you twelve times and you still don’t get it.”
“What’s there?”
“A life, but you have to go now.” His mother said.
He turned toward the warrior who appeared at Edin’s side. Grent was hunched over like he had a back injury. Edin heard a loud crash as something slammed in the house. A woman yelped. His eyes shot to the wooden floorboards above him. Ali or Freta?
Drawing the sword, he started toward the steps but felt Grent’s strong grip tearing into his injury. The man would not stop hurting him.
“She needs help.”
“She’ll be fine,” his mother said, her voice wavering slightly as she glanced up.
“Laural,” Master Horston said.
His mother nodded and walked quickly to a chest on the ground. It looked old. She flipped it open and pulled out three large packs. She grabbed a few skinned rabbits and squirrels and a brown paper-wrapped meat from the butcher.
“Laural!” A deep voice yelled out. The sheriff. “Horston!”
Edin heard footsteps pounding as Grent took one pack, Master Horston the other.
“I’ll meet you in the town of Brisbi in three weeks, if I can.” his mother said. She handed Edin the last pack and stared into his eyes. S
mall droplets of tears began to form despite the smile. She hugged him, squeezing him close to her then kissing his cheek. “I love you son, your father loves you… now go.”
“Mother come.”
Master Horston walked to the small alcove in the rear corner of the cellar. A wine rack where dusty brown, green and black bottles of spirits from all over Bestoria sat. He pulled one out and started pushing the wall.
“Master Grent. I could use some help,” Horston said.
Edin watched as the two silently swung the wall in on itself. As it opened he felt the rush of stale air, he could almost taste the damp and moldy world invading his senses.
His mother gripped his hands as Edin turned back to her. Her greenish yellow eyes stared directly into his. He saw fear in them. “Come with us,” Edin said again.
She shook her head, “they won’t hurt me. Our family goes back for generations here and there’s never been a mage in the family.”
“Mother,” Edin said, he could feel tears coming to his face.
“We have to go,” Grent whispered.
“If I miss you at Brisbi, I’ll try to meet you on the island. The Boganthean Tower was always his favorite place.”
Grent grabbed Edin’s arm and dragged him back. His mother turned and went toward the stairs. She quietly raced up them and disappeared without a sound through the door. Suddenly the wine rack door closed and they were in complete darkness. Edin felt a shiver as a cold gust blew down the dark tunnel.
Grent pushed him forward, Edin could feel the man’s breath just above his ear.
“This way,” Master Horston’s disembodied voice said from ahead of him. He didn’t know where to go, he couldn’t see anything. The darkness was all encompassing and oppressive.
“I don’t know where you are?” Edin said, he could hear a drip of water echoing down the hall.
“Light it up then,” Master Horston said. “It’s a talent your kind possesses.”
Edin furrowed his brow as he heard footsteps retreating in the darkness.